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actress4him · 3 years ago

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For Bad Things Happen: could you please do Keith strapped to an operating table with Shiro coming to rescue him? (Ironically the opposite of what happened in canon 😆)

Sure thing! I enjoyed this one, though I wrote the last bit with a fever so I’m hoping it makes sense and the quality didn’t drop.

@badthingshappenbingo

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Prompt: Strapped to an Operating Table

Warnings: human experimentation, noncon body modification, non-graphic amputation, non-graphic mouth whump, emeto, blood mention, death mention, threatened eye whump but nothing actually happens, needles

The first few times, Keith fought against the restraints. Growled at the Druids that stuck needles in him and pulsed magic through his veins. Screamed his anger to disguise his fear, despite the fact that no one listened or cared.

That changed after the first surgery.

When they took his arm, a bit of his defiance went with it. He didn’t have the energy to fight so hard anymore. After all, it had been days with no sign of anyone coming for him, and now there was this thing attached to him that he refused to acknowledge as his own.

He didn’t know how Shiro did it. How he just...accepted something of hers being part of his body. Used it like it was nothing, like it had always been there. Like it hadn’t been crafted specifically for him by the witch who took pleasure in torturing him.

As the experiments dragged on, he still snapped his teeth at any fingers that strayed too close to his face. Still glared his hatred at the emotionless masks that hovered over him.

But he remained silent. Stoic. Stopped rubbing deep rivets into his wrists and ankles, pulling on metal straps that had no give. Haggar noticed the change, smirked that infuriating smirk and commented on how much better behaved he was.

He couldn’t fight anymore, but he wouldn’t let them see how he was crumbling to pieces inside. Only once he was returned to his cell did he allow himself to curl into a ball, metal arm laying out as far away from his body as possible, and let his thoughts run wild.

Why haven’t they come for me?

They’re not coming for me.

They shouldn’t come for me.

I don’t want them to endanger themselves.

I can’t keep doing this.

I want to go home.

The second major procedure wasn’t quite as bad as the first, though when the choices were ‘amputation without meds’ versus ‘teeth removal without meds’ it wasn’t really something he wanted to dwell on comparing.

A metal contraption was shoved into his mouth, the crank on it turned until his jaw was forced wide open, and Haggar herself took out both his upper canines and replaced them with what he’d find out later were fangs. She tended to lurk in the background while her Druids carried out the tests from day to day, but she took over the major stuff herself. Keith wasn’t sure what was worse, having to stare at the Druid’s masks, or at her ugly face. At least with the Druids he couldn’t tell that they were actually enjoying the whole thing.

And he didn’t have to worry about her seeing when a few tears slipped down to his temples.

That night in his cell he accidentally bit his tongue, his lip, then his tongue again with the sharp new fangs. He wanted to scream, wanted to rip them out with his bare hands, but he was too much of a coward to go through that pain again. She was turning him into something he didn’t want to be. She was making him look like...like them, like a monster, like the half of his biology that had enslaved and murdered so many people, the half that he tried so hard to pretend didn’t exist.

What will Shiro and the others think when they see me again? Will they even recognize me by the time she’s done with me?

Are they even coming?

It’s been so long. Has to have been over a week, at least.

Maybe it really is better if they don’t come at all.

The next experiment they ran made him violently ill. He really couldn’t afford to lose any of the sparse food they gave him, he’d already lost so much weight. The only good news was that they were forced to cut the testing short that day, dumping him back into his barren cell to fend for himself.

He was so tired. Tired of being there. Tired of being poked and prodded and cut and changed. His body was flagging, all of the substances they’d injected him with and the blood he’d continuously lost taking its toll.

He wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to last. If the team was coming...they might be too late.

After that day of puking his guts out, he no longer even had the energy to glare or snap. He let them drag him to the lab, shove him onto the table, and pin him down with all the many restraints without so much as a sound, and stared up at the ceiling doing his best to ignore what was being done to him. All of his fighting now went into keeping the tears he could feel burning his eyelids from escaping.

Shiro...I’m sorry. I tried to stay strong. You should...you should just forget about me.

More time passed. By Keith’s best guess it had been a few weeks since he’d been captured, but he’d kinda stopped bothering to count. They strapped him down to the table again, and he didn’t even really care until Haggar appeared above him.

She was going to take something else from him.

How much more, until he was no longer himself at all?

“Such unusual eyes,” she croaked, dragging a far too sharp fingernail across his cheekbone. “More advanced than Champion’s, for sure, but still nothing like they could be.”

Dread crawled up Keith’s throat and stuck there, making it difficult to breathe. “No,” he whispered. “No, please, don’t…”

A smile lit up her face. “Ah, he finally begs. I’ve been wondering what it would take.”

He didn’t even care anymore. “Please don’t take my eyes, please.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” She turned to the side, busying herself with tools. “I’m only taking one for now.”

He was gonna be sick. Panic blared in his mind, burning his chest and throat and eyes...his eyes, his eyes. He’d never really liked them all that much. They were a weird color, not normal, an outer indication of how different he had always felt.

But he didn’t want them to be taken. He was...he was gonna end up looking like Sendak, wasn’t he? The thought only increased the pressing nausea.

He turned his head to the side, sure he was about to throw up, when an alarm began wailing out in the corridor. Red lights flashed overhead, and he squinted against them, confusion taking over his panic. Haggar and the Druids suddenly hurtled into motion, snatching up tools and gathering around the table, but their frenzy was interrupted by the door slamming open and more people pouring inside.

The next few moments were chaotic. Keith couldn’t lift up his head enough to see what was going on, but he heard the familiar enough sounds of fighting and dared to hope. That this was finally over, that someone had come for him, that he wouldn’t have to lose anything else, after all.

“Stop!” Haggar screeched. Her hand fisted in his hair, and his breath caught. “You really don’t want me to inject this into your precious Paladin. You see, I’ve been saving this for a later experiment.” A sharp point grazed the side of his neck. “Pure quintessence. What will it do to him? Even I don’t know. Quintessence is a tricky thing. I’m hoping it will bring out more of his superior lineage. But it could very well turn him feral.”

“Haggar. Don’t.”

That was Shiro. Shiro. He was really there!

“Then drop your weapons,” she hissed.

No. He was so close, so close! “Sh-shiro, please…”

“It’s okay, Keith. It’s gonna be okay.”

The silence was so thick that he could hear Shiro’s arm power down, hear two different bayards return to neutral and clatter quietly to the floor. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the tears to stay put.

The crack of a gun split the air.

Keith’s eyes flew back open, but he barely saw Haggar jolt and disappear through the sudden pain stabbing through his neck. He screamed, and he didn’t know how much of it was from pain and how much from fear.

Shiro materialized over him, and he would have laughed aloud from relief if he hadn’t been shaking so hard. “Hey bud, it’s okay. You’re okay now.”

“N-no, no, get away, get back, get away from me. You can’t…” Keith sobbed. “I don’t wanna hurt you, you have to leave me.”

“We’re not leaving you,” Shiro replied firmly. “Look.” Gently, telegraphing his movements, he reached for the syringe and pulled it out of Keith’s neck, eliciting a whimper. Then he held it up for him to see the golden liquid. “She didn’t get to actually depress it, see? You’re good. You’re safe.”

Safe. A feeling that he’d never thought he’d have again. Shiro was here, running his hand through his greasy hair, and the others were cutting through the restraints, and it was over.

Except that it never really, truly would be. “Shiro, she...she…”

“I know.” He pointedly didn’t look at the arm and the teeth, but they were there on display for everyone to see. “It’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna get through this, okay? Together.”

He was free now. No more metal restraints. No more Druids or Haggar. Shiro gathered him up into a huge hug, and it was the best thing he had ever felt in his life.

“Okay,” he whispered, tears running down his cheeks and the front of Shiro’s armor. “Together.”

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commander-diomika · 3 years ago

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Fandom: Rusty Quill Gaming Pairing: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde Rating: Gen Word Count: ~2000 Additional Tags: Slow Burn, 18-Month Time Gap (Rusty Quill Gaming), Rating Will Change to Explicit in Later Parts, Opposites Attract, just two people trying to figure out how to keep the peace with each other and very occasionally succeeding

Summary: Part 2 is here, set several months after Part 1 in a Damascus safehouse. (here's Part One)

"There was another Sending from Curie’s people.” From a side-table awash with documents, Zolf fetched a piece of paper. “New workin’ theory on London, some kind of disease, rather than mind control."

Wilde frowned. “Oh, that’s much worse. Mind control magic at least implies some kind of central power system, a culprit to be fought. If it’s an illness… it might just be chaotic, undirected spread.” Wilde's eyes were shrewd. This was the Wilde that Zolf actually liked working with.

“The message doesn’t sound certain. Just a theory.” Zolf pointed out. He settled back. The couch was a threadbare number but it was comfortable enough, and this wasn’t the first evening they’d spent sitting here discussing plans and directions.

The two of them couldn’t have gotten the hell out of Cairo at a better time. Two weeks after Zolf and Wilde made their quiet exit from the Meritocrats, Aphophis disappeared, taking with him the last few loyal agents. In the ensuing chaos, Wilde pulled some strings and… appropriated significant funding for the next phase. Enough to rent a modest base of operation in Damascus, where they had been for the past few months.

Zolf wasn’t quite sure how Wilde made it all happen so smoothly. At the time he’d just thought Wilde got lucky. Though having worked together for just a few months, he was tempted to say Wilde got lucky a lot… Or perhaps he was just very good at making it seem that way.

“Ho, Wilde,” Zolf called from the kitchen, as he heard Wilde enter the townhouse.

His companion entered the adjoining sitting room, dressed almost-sensibly for the heat in a cream linen suit, a satchel slung over his shoulder.

“What you got there?” Zolf called. He had been chopping vegetables for the evening meal but seeing that Wilde looked flush with success, Zolf put the knife down and wiped off his hands as he went to join him.

His step faltered as he realised that Wilde, once again, was not alone. With him was the man Zolf couldn’t help but think of as “the interloper”.

Alfred Douglas stood just a few inches shorter than Wilde, similarly dark haired and dashing, as he followed Wilde into the sitting room and greeted Zolf with a winning smile. “Hello, Mr Smith.” Wilde had once said that he chose his friends for their good looks, and to look at Alfred, Zolf would begrudgingly agree.

Zolf had met this newcomer just a few days ago. Returning from a fruitless trip to Turkey, he was shocked to find another person at the safehouse; an old friend, Wilde said. When pressed for details, Wilde had first deflected, demurred, and then dug his heels in. It had gotten ugly.

Not wanting to repeat the fight, Zolf just nodded tightly. “Douglas.”

“Oh please, I’ve been telling you, you can call me Bosie.” Zolf, basically immune to affected charm, ignored him and repeated his question to Wilde. “What’s in the bag, Wilde?”

“Books!” Wilde replied, pointedly ignoring the pair’s less-than-warm interaction.

One by one he produced several tomes from the leather satchel with a flourish, revealing each as if waiting for applause before placing them on the low wooden table. A History of Dwarven Achievements; Svalbard, a Japanese travel guide, and one more sizeable volume. Zolf couldn’t immediately understand the title, but he could see that it was written in Dwarvish. That last one gave a small puff of dust as Wilde gently ran his fingers through the pages before adding it to the pile.

“Bosie was such a help, weren’t you dear, I would never have found that last little merchant alone. I swear we went down so many side alleys it was like a maze!” Wilde’s voice was honeyed and light again. It made Zolf feel itchy and irritable. In the months they’d been in Damascus, he’d almost gotten Wilde to just act like a normal bloody person when it was just the two of them, instead of some conversational artiste looking to make a spectacle of every interaction. Two days in the interloper’s company and he was back to the same smarmy, dunkable cad Zolf had met in London.

“The Svalbard one wasn’t exactly easy to get our hands on, either. It’s not like anyone is doing transfers from The London Library anymore.” Wilde reported as he speedily shed jacket, hat and shoes, then plopped down on the settee. Still looking overly pleased with himself, he patted the seat next to him, inviting Bosie to sit. He did so.

“How did you go with your leads?” Wilde asked, still slightly breathless from the performance he made of unveiling the books.

Zolf’s lips pursed, and he considered not answering. Even though Wilde was probably telling him everything in the long hours they spent sequestered in Wilde’s room, it still felt wrong to discuss business with Douglas here. Since he’d arrived on the scene he’d been nothing but disarming smiles and quiet interest but…

Maybe I’m just bein’ paranoid, Zolf said to himself. It was immediately followed with another thought, unbidden and unwelcome. More like bein’ jealous.

That couldn’t possibly be the case, so Zolf opened his mouth and started speaking. “I went askin’ after our initial contact with the Hephaestus lot. You know, the one that sent me on that bloody wild goose chase?” Zolf’s recent trip to Ankara had been based on that lead. He’d been looking for Garten, with no success.

“Turns out she’s not keen on explaining to me why her lead was a blumin’ fake, and the rest of ‘em have closed up ranks.” Finding something to do that didn’t involve looking at either of them, Zolf picked up Wilde’s hat off the table and hung it on the hook by the door. “Also, it looks like the whole Cult is gettin’ ready to move, if I’m honest. A lot less folks workin’ and a lot more packin’ up than I saw last I wer’ there.” He picked up Wilde’s shoes and put them by the door.

“Yes, actually, I noticed something similar at the Artemisian temples the other day,” Douglas said thoughtfully.

Zolf glared at him. Who did he think he was?

As far as Zolf was concerned, the man’s only saving grace was that his sudden reappearance in Wilde’s life made him happy. Pleasant or positive things had been in short supply, and Zolf wasn’t a monster. But Douglas had been tottering about on thin ice since the moment he arrived, and his comments were only salting the surface.

Wilde’s eyes tracked between the two of them, and with a melodramatic sigh he said, “Perhaps you ought to head off, my dear.” He threw Zolf a glance that said there, are you happy now?

“Yeh, I’ve got some things to discuss with Wilde. In private.” Zolf added, eyebrows brewing up a thunderstorm.

Bosie tilted his head, an expression of mock-hurt on his face. It was an expression Wilde made often and Zolf did his best not to explode. These two were as bad as each other and getting worse.

Wilde made an apologetic shooing motion with his hands, and Douglas did as he was bid. He gathered his hat with a reproachful look at Zolf, and gave Wilde a peck on the cheek before leaving. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Oscar.”

Wilde walked Douglas out and returned to the settee, sitting with an exasperated sigh.

It had been getting better between them, heroes with their backs against the wall that they were. It had been. For all that Wilde was insufferable when he got on his airs about “need-to-know information” and couldn’t cook and was constantly preening as though any of that even mattered… But for all the myriad of ways he got up Zolf’s nose, he was also talented. Adept at making and keeping contacts. Able to talk his way into places Zolf couldn’t even get a foot into. An incredible mind for language, information, and planning. He was useful to have around, and for that Zolf was trying his best to extend a bit of graciousness.

And for all Wilde was frustrating company, at least he was someone. Wilde had been dead right, back in Cairo. It was nice to not be alone.

A mulish expression settled on Wilde’s face. It was obvious he was getting ready to jump straight back into the argument about Douglas, but Zolf wasn’t in the mood to rehash the same angry words.

you need to trust me, Zolf

you ain’t supposed to hide things from me anymore

we’re supposed to be partners

it’s none of your business

I thought you were more careful than this

With all the tact of a glaive to the face, Zolf changed the subject.

“There was another Sending from Curie’s people.” From a side-table awash with documents, Zolf fetched a piece of paper. “New workin’ theory on London, some kind of disease, rather than mind control. But it is affectin’ paladins, so it’s not any kind of disease we’ve dealt with before.”

Wilde frowned. “Oh, that’s much worse. Mind control magic at least implies some kind of central power system, a culprit to be fought. If it’s an illness… it might just be chaotic, undirected spread.” As though a spell had been lifted, as soon as Douglas left the room, Wilde turned into a different person, sharp and incisive.

Zolf nodded in grim approval of Wilde’s assessment, moving to sit down next to him.

“She also reckons we start treatin’ it like something communicable. Isolatin’ when we’ve not been able to keep an eye on each other, so on.”

“Well, that’s not very practical for us, now is it. We don’t have the kind of operation Curie does, with the people and resources to run proper quarantine.” Wilde said, eyes shrewd. This was the Wilde that Zolf actually liked working with. “We split up all the time.”

“Still, a theory from one of the sharpest minds left on the planet. Worth giving credence to. Maybe we need to look at bringing a few more people on board.” Wilde paused, thoughtful. “How would you feel about working with James Barnes?”

Zolf cocked his head, unable to place the name for a moment. “Commander James Barnes?”

“The very same.”

Zolf’s jaw worked as he started several different sentences then abandoned them. “I mean, he’s in the Navy, ain’t he? Last I checked, that’s still under Meritocratic order.”

“Perhaps he won’t be with them for much longer.” Wilde said mysteriously. Zolf nearly called him on it. Fighting about the sudden inclusion of Douglas in their affairs, Zolf had pushed Wilde hard on his habit of half-truths and leading statements. He hadn’t gotten anywhere with it. He was starting to think Wilde might be just an incorrigible equivocator, and there was nothing to be done about it.

So Zolf simply grunted.

“So that’s a solid maybe on Barnes,” Wilde grinned. “Besides, we’ll be fine for the moment. I won’t go running off and recruiting anyone new, because now we’ve got Bosie.”

Zolf took a slow breath at this topic change. He gentled the first angry words that came to mind, and spoke. “Wilde… I know you trust him. I know you two have a long history. But in light of this-” Zolf tapped the transcribed Sending. “-I don’t know how I feel about you bringing him in on… everything.” It lay on the table next to the satchel.

“Oh, that reminds me!” Wilde said smoothly, grabbing the bag and reaching inside. “I managed to pick up one more thing.”

From the satchel he produced a much smaller item, a banged-up paperback with a bright cover.

“Ohhh it’s the second Hearts of Fire!” Zolf exclaimed. He knew a misdirect when he saw one but couldn’t contain himself. “Those are so hard to get!” He took the book-shaped olive branch from Wilde quickly, already opening to page one.

“I knew I shouldn’t have given it to you until you’d at least had a look at the Svalbard books,” Wilde teased.

Zolf considered Wilde over the top of the book for a long moment. Wilde wasn’t off the hook. Neither of them were. They would have to come back to this jagged mess of a conversation at some point, but for now, Zolf chose peace. Of a sort.

“Look, the quicker I’m done with it, the quicker you can have it. Don’t pretend like you haven’t read my Campbells. I’m not the one dog-earin’ the pages. I thought you were sposed to be a man of culture.”

“Oh, stop hounding me about it, Zolf,” Wilde said, picking up Dwarven Achievements and relaxing gratefully back into the couch. Zolf was already so engrossed he didn’t even groan.

#hank writes #rusty quill gaming #zoscar #zolfwilde #rqg #rqg fic #but seriously how WOULD you feel if your legacy was just ''oscar wilde's lover''#literal RIP alfred douglas #anyway hit that reblog button plz

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awkwardplantwrites · 5 years ago

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I haven’t written yet, but I do have a lot of ideas to go off now. unfortunately, a lot of involves re-writing stuff. on the one hand, I don’t want to be stuck on the same chapters, but on the other hand, I just Won’t be able to continue unless I add it in. I know a lot of people say “just write, don’t edit” but those aren’t the rules bc there is none and I can do what I want. (pls fix? no being stuck!!! only edit!)

here’s a long post about things I’m planning on adding, as well as headcanons about my own damn story because I’m stuck in fanfic mode forever.

lots of spoilers ahead!

a horse motif for Renato: I remember when namme-e made the posters, one had a horse on it, which I reckon is a common association with knights. so far there have been 2 horses (well, one is a Kelpie, but it’s a water horse shh. I also found out Northumbrian folk/where Llantry is based call them Brags!) and there will be more horses later in the story. they’re recurring anyway, so why not use it.

and upon looking at it’s symbolism, I realised that horses are very duty bound creatures, like Renato is to the people of Llantry, they symbolise war/battles - which can bring in memories of his dad, and in comparison to the first horse (which dies in chapter 5... some unintentional symbolism there) Isbeil the Kelpie is much more free and independant and they’re at the Fun part of the road trip, and the Nukelavee (even more dangerous than kelpies) later on will be wild/untamed right about when Renato’s emotions will be in turmoil... you see where I’m going with this :D :D other contenders for motifs include: hands, mirrors/reflections, his shield/armour, dragons. swords are more of a precision tool for magic than a weapon in this universe so that wouldn’t work as a motif.

a candy motif for Pepi: you thought I made him a candy merchant intentionally? no. not at all. except now it is. candy represents good memories, childhood, rewards, pleasure, reminds him of his dad’s business, responsibility in maintaining the business, his family, his lack of magic/inability to make candy, having to do Tammy’s chores for her, and just Tammy in general I guess.

in the beginning I remember him being enthusiastic about it (if he’s not I’ll add it in lol), singing about it and complaining about being “a candy delivery boy turned overworked squire” and even from that you can tell he already has a complicated relationship with candy. he can’t make it but he sells it and hates selling it but when he talks/sings about it it attracts people, especially children.. perhaps engaging his own inner child too... in chapter 3 Pepi mentioned he was down to two bags, which means he held onto them despite selling out the rest... representing that he’s still holding onto his past even though it’s in the past and gone... and one day he’ll run out and it won’t be in his control and he won’t be able to get any more unless he goes home... which means FACING HIS PAST. so I’m thinking, if he becomes more neutral to it that’ll show how he views his past more healthily? then eat fruit instead?? idk.

magic based on senses: kind of ATLA inspired, but with the 5 physical senses (and a spooky 6th). as I started writing this I realised I probably based their powers depending on which god chose them, for example Lidion is the god of protection, so Renato gets protection based powers. but y’know, I had another idea as I wrote this lmao, what if the regular civillians/people born with magic have sense based magic? not sure if it’s a little ambitious to have 2 entirely different sets of magic. maybe the god powers can be based on senses too. initially the magic was based entirely off of DND classes (Renato’s a paladin and Pepi’s a wild magic sorcerer) but I think I’ve found something more original haha. or perhaps I accidentally moved onto Greek god/Percy Jackson-esque powers. crap. research says scottish mythology is kinda like Greek myths anyway: that’s a win in my book.

changing Finlay from a floating crystal ball to a bird: introduced in chapter 2, and EVERYTIME I WRITE I FORGET ABOUT FINLAY. it’s like a personal meme at this point. so anyway I took a “what core type are you quiz” a while back and Pepi got adventurecore after I chose bird as his inner animal. making this change will make sense because a) Pepi can talk to animals and this will foreshadow it, b) he likes music and this might be his magic type..? c) Disney needs a mascot character if they’re going to make FM a movie

I just read some bird symbolism and GOD I want to make Finlay a chicken, since it symbolises finding inner power, getting over fear and also it’s very funny to me. or a duck since that symbolises decisiveness and leaving the past in the past. see there’s a lot of things I can do here. but is there such a thing as having too many motifs? I just read that you CAN have more than one, so yes, Finlay will now become a duck. 15 year old/duck obsessed me would be very happy.

empahsizing the illness: plural illnesses actually. Llantry’s illness is actually depression - which they didn’t know bc this is set around the 15th century and the gods forgot to tell them about it or something - caused by overusing their magic, the death of Renato’s dad (public morale figure), poverty, and y’know the middle ages in general. I feel like Renato’s way too upbeat, especially in chapter 4 when they’re running away from the Wakefield Knights. before now I was trying to weave in mood swings which would affect his behaviour and therefore the story. admittedly it’s very difficult, as what they’re doing generally requires a lot of energy and the tone is usually light. someone suggested having his depression be worse when the situation is worse, which I probably will do, but I still feel he could be more low-key. I really, really didn’t want to use the “happy and sad duo” trope, I wanted them to be more or less equal in demeanour. though if I want to portray his depression and distinguish them both it’ll have to be exaggerated I suppose.

the second illness, Pepi’s anxiety. or well, it was initially anxiety but it’s starting to look more like OCD (that’s self projection for ya). some of my readers already figured out he can do magic, however it’s not that he doesn’t realise it. he casts spells in his sleep and thinks it’s his “evil self” (that idea is still TBC), and he sneaks off in the morning because he remembers sleepwalking and cleans up his mess. and to avoid making it look like schizophrenia, I’m planning to write it so it’s obvious he’s just very in denial about being able to do magic, because later it’s revealed he’s scared to use magic, because he doesn’t want to end up like his sister who became possessed by an evil being and abused magic, which for him is both a rational and irrational fear. avoiding magic could be considered a compulsion since he has intrusive thoughts about becoming evil.

so I did already plan for him to gradually get more restless and uneasy, he’s supposed to be seem energetic bc he runs solely on anxiety. in my head I was thinking of quirks, and realized him hoarding stuff in his pockets “in case he needs it later” and his insane amount of GUILT, and all that felt pretty OCD. so why not: he’s got OCD. possibly PTSD too.

the idea for Finding Magic began as “magic takes part of your soul, 2 wizards search for help as their magic stops working”. I still have the exact post it note I wrote the first idea on. for this story I have 2 countries, 13 semi-developed towns, over 30 characters. (yes, not Tolkien numbers, but I’m not Writers George) and the reason I wasn’t able to write about ANY of them for the past 2 months is because my brain spirals and ruminates over miniscule details that readers will never know. also because I lost passion, was too tired to develop characters I needed to develop the story to finish the first draft... but now that the passion is back: I’m writing this at 5am, which is reminiscent of the first day I came up with FM, back then called Journey to Magic, where I couldn’t sleep since I was bursting with ideas.

I guess this is what I find fun, analysing and improving and brainstorming. so while I might not have chapters written down, they’re pretty damn clear in my head and as you can see, I can talk up a storm about my story despite it not existing :D

#writeblr #writblr #writing #fantasy #amwriting #fm tag #im a big fan of symbolism that'll be lost on most readers #awkwardplantwrites #oc: pepi #oc: renato #the plant speaks

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erunerwynter · 8 years ago

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get ready for another rambling

so okay get comfortable bc im gonna talk abt the Gods of Gaia™

okay, in reality im not going to write down all of the gods, simply because there are just too many and i haven’t figured them all out right now

so here ill talk about the six gods of a very common religion in Steingatte, one of the four continents of Gaia (that are actually six if you count the Crowns of the World, that are basically north and south pole)

- Egatro is the god of the sky, basically. he moves the stars, the sun and the moon. He made the constellations and crafted the sun and the moon out of his own eyes, so now he’s blind; he’s also the god of darkness and the roads, protector of the Wanderers, the members of an international organization that are mostly adventurers. He’s completely neutral, but protects Gaia from the horrors that lie in the void between the stars so maybe that counts as Neutral Good? Anyway, he has an Outer Plane (even tho on Gaia the Outer Planes don’t have that much of influence – conjurers and the like are extremely uncommon, bc Gaia is cosmologically very far away from the Outer Planes) that is called “The Astrarium”, from where he can look at every point in the universe.

- Agasta is the goddess of war, of battle, of life and death and of the burning passion of two lovers. She’s the one who gives life to newborn children and the one who picks the souls of the dead in battle. She’s just, but fierce and merciless, and doesn’t have any pity for cowards. She’s Chaotic Neutral, because she doesn’t care about good and bad; she only cares about your bravery on the battlefield (she values in particular the ones who sacrifice themselves for the sake of other’s lives tho, even if they’re generally bad guys). Her Plane is called Ekraste, the Eternal Battlefield, that’s basically Valhalla.

- Ise is my favorite. They’re genderless, and they’re the god of secrets, magic, art, darkness and knowledge. Their Plane is known as The Library Of Many Things, and it’s one of the few Planes that mortals ever set foot on. The Library has many Librarians that come from all the Multiverse, may they be contract devils, azatas, demons with a knack for knowing secrets, Things From Beyond, elementals, and even mortals like human and elves. The Librarians set apart their differences and work together (mostly) without fights, bc the Library of Many Things is strongly Neutral, as her master is. All of the Librarians must reject their ties with their original plane of existence, putting them under the direct control of Ise, but that’s no big deal, bc the ones who want to become Librarians often feel like outcasts in their plane of origin in the first place, and Ise almost never asks anything from their servants. Mortals that become Librarians become basically outsiders, and as such they cannot die of old age anymore.

- Reno is the god of mercy, love, compassion, earth and harvest. Called the Father of the Rejected, or simply Father, his priests don’t build churches. Instead, they go in the houses of the poorest, assisting them as much as they can. Often they’re travelling clerics, aiding adventurers and healing them for free. While they can earn money and ask for payment for their services, they can only do that to people that are clearly wealthy. Reno believes that no creature is beyond redemption, and his church accepts everyone; that’s why there are many believers between tieflings and half-orcs. Even some drows that live near the surface and have heard of him worship him, obviously in total secret. His Plane is called The Glades, and he’s Lawful Good.

- Elandra is the goddess of nature. She is called the Huntress, and she’s the one who, with Agasta, decides who must live and who must die, but her influence goes beyond the battlefield. Some of her servants, the Crows, pick the souls of the dead to bring them to the afterlife. She’s often respected by druids, and most elves of the woods worship her. She’s Chaotic Good, and her Plane is called The Wilds.

- Nestre is the blacksmith of the gods. He’s the god of craft and wit, of order and prophecy and Time itself. He’s the god of metal, of ice and fire. He crafted the Wheel, that is in constant motion and keeps the Time flowing. Sometimes his clerics have glimpses of future and past things, but if that is indeed Nestre’s influence is still a controversial argument. He’s Lawful Neutral, preoccupied only by the order of things, and his Plane is the Forge of Fire and Ice.

- my second favorite, Ifaseo, the god of chaos, trickery, wind and sea, of songs and of tempests, the god of dance. He’s also the god of chance, and his priests often leave particular difficult decision to fate, with actions such as flipping a coin or rolling a dice (wink wink). So it’s not unusual to see a cleric of Ifaseo flipping a coin with their eyes closed to decide whether they should kill or not the creature that stands before them. Some of them take this to an extreme, leaving to chance alone almost every choice they make. Ifaseo hates law and order, that bind someone in doing something that they may not want to do. That’s why even his Chaotic Evil clerics fight against slavery and are willing to form an alliance with anyone to stop it, even the most lawful of paladins. He’s Chaotic Neutral, and his plane is called the Archipelago.

- Azra is the goddess of the sea and of the deep abysses, of darkness, water, silence, magic, sleep and dreams and oaths. She is the one who lies beneath the surface of the waves, under the realm of Ifaseo, her brother, whom she hates fiercely. She, it is believed, is the Mother of Aberrations, and that the Things From Beyond, such as shoggots, are her children. She’s Lawful Evil, and her Plane, cosmologically right under the Archipelago, is the Endless Abyss.

Then there is this goddess in particular, the First One, o “La Prima”, worshipped in Corveria, a nation where arcane magic is basically outlawed. La Prima is, her clerics declare, the one and only divinity that exist; they deny the existence of the Outer Planes, classifying the Library Of Many Things as a demiplane (one day ill talk about the cosmology of the planes beyond Gaia i stg). Funnily enough, no gods have ever spoken directly to their worshippers: some declare that gods don’t exist at all because of that.

In reality, all gods coexist in the Multiverse, but exist only because people who believe in them exist. If one were to kill all the worshippers of one particular divinity and destroy the very memory of their existence then that divinity would absolutely die. But if someone finds a mention of that divinity, such as a painting or a fragment of their sacred book, they may come back to life.

Still, it is quite the quest to destroy every mentioning of one divinity, given the fact that everything the Librarians know is immediately stored in the extradimensional shelves of the Library Of Many Things

#long post #about gaia #fuck it im tagging this as #abt my ocs #abt gaia #the gods of gaia

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