#partially inspired by the bit in the novel of carrie

[severedfromthesource]

Vampire’s Kiss

A trick of hypnosis. NSFW. Features F resus, F rescuer, cardiophilia, CPR, fingering, sex acts on an unconscious person, consensual cardiac arrest

Catarina laid her head back against the overstuffed pillows, her hair spilling out in a halo of gold ringlets. Her stormy, nearly silver eyes bore into the creature hovering above her in the shape of a woman. A lovely woman at that. Lovely skin, a deep onyx that was almost purple in certain lights, black hair clipped short to the scalp, round full lips, eyes like burning coals. Even if her features morphed into that of a bat when the light fell across her nose and mouth, even if she had the face of demons painted in every church inside which Catarina had spent her childhood; she was still beautiful. Beautiful and hers. Her Lady Angelique. Her fallen angel.

The tip of her claw traced over the many layers of fabric packed around Catarina’s pale belly and the cloth parted under her hands. Laces snapped and cloth ripped with hardly a noise of complaint. When her long, wickedly hooked nail came to the middle of Catarina’s chest, she swiped up, and her round breasts fell as the last of her bustier gave way at once. Despite so many nights of this creature coming to her in the dead of night, she still blushed to be exposed before her, turning away as her cheeks and chest flushed red. The air between them grew heavier, and she knew Angelique was scenting the blood flooding closer to her skin. Her talons came to lay against Catarina's ribcage. Her thumb curved beneath one breast, the rest of her long and elegant fingers curling around her side. Her heart beat madly, tapping against the creature's palm. She lowered her face, her nose swiping up the valley of her breasts.

"You're starving, aren't you, love?" she whispered in the dark, braving her hands to rest against Angelique's thin arms. Deceptively thin. Underneath, she could still feel the rippling of muscles. She could plunge that hand under Catarina's ribs and tear her open, if it pleased her.

"I never come to you starving, mon petit peau de vin. I would not be able to help myself." Her lips grazed over the curve of her shoulder. "I would be a beast to you."

Catarina reached up, slipping her hand between the gap in her beast's simple cotton shirt, laces undone to the middle of her chest, and cupped one of her small breasts in turn. "I like when you're beastly."

She chuckled against her freckle dusted chest. "Non. You don't. You have not seen me as a beast yet."

Her fingers rolled over Angelique's nipple, watching the edges of her shape as she held herself aloft above Catarina's bed. The creature's hand moved up to the slope of her chest, feeling with delicately curved fingers how her heart leapt there, that little space where it jumped against her skin in her excitement.

"Do you like feeling my heart?" Angelique nodded at the question, turning her hand to press her palm a bit harder against the breastbone. Just hard enough her heart beat up against the sudden intrusion and sped a little. "I have no heart of my own," said the creature, "I envy you for it."

Her lips curled and she resettled against the bed, laying her arms above her head. "Shall we play that game again?"

She couldn't see her naked brow arch in the dark, but she felt it. "Oh? Did you enjoy it last time, mon petit peau de vin?" Catarina nodded. "I liked being at your mercy." The beast chuckled low and husky. "You are always at my mercy, sweet dove." Still, her hand trailed up, nails gingerly dragging over the surface of her skin, to wrap around her throat. Catarina's thighs instinctively rubbed against one another.

"We won't be playing for awhile after this, oui? I do not want to damage that lovely lump of gray matter behind that pretty face." Catarina giggled at her words and nodded her assent. "Promise, not for a little while," she said, "Just tonight."

So she began. Angelique's thumb tapped against the carotid artery in her throat in time with her rapid pattering heartbeat. "I see your heart, snug and content between your lungs. You don't notice it most of the time, the hard work it puts in to make your cheeks flush under my gaze." Her mouth lowered to lick a stripe over Catarina's sternum. "But it feels a little slower, no? And a little slower still." As she said this, Catarina's heart did indeed slow its steady gallop, and the tapping thumb slowed its pace as well. Her breaths came a little deeper and slower, even if her head swam a bit from the sudden drop. "You can feel it open and shutter its gate with each pulse of blood. Squeezing out through your entire body. But there's less blood to go around now." So there was. Her fingers prickled with cold.

Angelique lowered her mouth to her shoulder, dragging her fangs in two little lines down the skin there. It was just enough to draw blood, and it welled up from the wounds on her tongue as she licked back up over the twin lines she'd made. "Mmh. Eager, aren't we? Your blood practically leaps for my tongue, sweet dove." Catarina slid her leg in between the creature's, spurring her back into their game. "Ah, but that workhorse behind your ribs. It's slowing down more, isn't it? A little slower. A little slower." Catarina tried to keep her angel's devil eyes in her sight, but it was hard. Her head kept nodding, her lids getting heavier, until those twin flames in the blackness of her room were distant fires. Her brain told her to breathe, her body, so accustomed to living, fought against this gentle death. Even if it wouldn't be permanent, her ancient systems, taught her entire life to keep her heart beating and her brain thinking and her lungs breathing, did not know the creature's plans. Her brain snapped orders for her lungs to take a breath and she heard the choked, snoring sound she emitted with the attempt.

Her angel brought her lips to the artery still pushing blood, valiantly trying to keep up with its one job; keep her alive. She didn't feel anything but the slight rush of cold where her fangs buried into the soft meat of her throat. The flat of Angelique's tongue rolled over her pale neck, drawing her lifeblood away from her slowing heart. There was only the slight pulling sensation to Catarina's fading awareness. Her pulse swelled against the creature's lips, each hot spurt of blood down her angel's throat providing one less ounce of life to her body.

Finally, after a few great, gulping mouthfuls, Angelique drew away just enough to whisper against the shell of her ear. "And now... it stops."

And it did.

Her heart finally slowed to a stop, pooling one last spurt of blood inside her chest before it went still. The last wisp of oxygen left her lungs in a quiet rasp, her chest falling under the beast’s hand, cupped against her ribcage once more. She leaned over her prize for a moment after, her lips still against her pulse point, reveling in the feeling of her stillness and the blood still gently leaking from the puncture wounds in her neck. She swiped out at the thin trickles with her tongue and drew back up, settling her weight against Catarina’s hips. Even in the pitch black of the room, the quickly vanishing remains of her body heat glowed like embers, and her slack face was clear enough to the beast. She’d never had a willing feed source, let alone one that liked this game.

Angelique skated her palm up from the side of her ribs to the center of Catarina’s sternum. Those gray eyes stared up lifeless into her face, but she knew awareness still lingered behind them. Even as her throat worked of its own accord and she made another one of those wet, rasping noises of a failed breath. She had enough power in her body to cave in every bone in her body, so she relegated herself to one hand as she began to pump the heel of her palm into Angelique’s still heart. The other she let drift over the girl’s cheek, slid down her jawline, skimming over the artificial pulse she was creating in her neck.

Catarina watched, both outside herself and in. She felt her ribcage bend a surprising amount without breaking, though perhaps it would. She’d liked the last time when it had, and she couldn’t so much as breathe at court without thinking of her monster. It had pleased her beyond words to bear the mark of her love in the blackened bruise of her sternum. And she had been so tender after, almost apologetic. That didn’t stop her from beating against her heart just as hard this time. She pictured the swell of blood, pulling into and pushing out of arteries, cycling back through her heart at the behest of the woman sat astride her. She wanted her to kiss her, but knew she had no breath in her own lungs to give. Catarina was only playing a corpse, while Angelique had to suffer as one.

“You’re still wet,” the creature mused. Her free hand had slid down from the artery in her throat to the one at the apex of her thighs. Her fingers moved between their bodies and found her femoral, feeling each compression against her heart push blood down through her extremities. “You are such an odd little dove.” Her fingers dragged a bit over to the side, parting her slick folds with hooked claws. But she was gentle, always gentle for her prize. She rubbed against her entrance with a knuckle, the pad of her thumb rubbing her clit in tandem, careful not to claw something sensitive.

Catarina wanted to moan, but all that came out was a croaking breath. Angelique worked her fingers over her plump lips and eased them inside, still gentle as she guided the curved talons at the end of her slender digits into her. They scraped just enough against her inner walls that she would have hissed in pain if she had any control of her vocal cords or lungs. The creature pushed harder against her ribcage now, a faster rhythm that she created with one hand and felt with the other. She preferred it when her dove’s own racing heartbeat was mirrored inside her, not the beat she made for her while the organ lay motionless inside her ribcage, but she enjoyed it never the less. Each hard pummel against her sternum made her soft, round belly pop up, tapping against her own sex, which made her shiver. Her full breasts rippled from the force of each compression, swaying to the rhythm. Angelique moved in and out of her to the beat she created for her, coaxing another strangled attempt at a breath from Catarina.

Angelique’s eyes burned like hellfire as she stared down into her prize’s unblinking gaze. “Will you come back willingly, dove? Or do you need a little more motivation?”

Catarina wanted to scream, “Yes, god, yes, I’ll refuse any attempt at revival until you kiss me. Kiss me and take me.” But she couldn’t move. She was in the hands of the vampire, just where she wanted to be. Still, Angelique seemed to hear and smiled at her desperate spirit. She leaned down, pausing her compressions, her attempts to beat life back into her, and laid her palm flat against her heart. There was nothing there, of course, and without her manually pumping blood through her ventricles the pulse in her warm cunt died too. Still, she lowered her body down so her small breasts and bony clavicle brushed against Catarina’s full bosom, her hardened nipples. Her lips parted, tongue pressing between her sharp canines and she leaned in to take her mouth. It offered no resistance, nor did it reciprocate her affection, but she went on kissing anyway, tongue probing her still mouth. Catarina’s lung shuddered with another failed attempt at breathing and she gasped into her mouth. Her fingers moved in a restless, quickening pace, drawing her muscles tighter as she neared her climax. As if joining in the growing excitement, her heart had taken up a fluttering, inconsequential cadence, too weak to draw her away from the limbo she was still caught in.

When Angelique pulled away, she smiled down at her dove, fingers flicking like a snake tongue in and out her dripping gash. “Now,” she sighed, “I think you ought to come back.” And she raised her other hand up in a balled fist. She struck Catarina between the breasts, a hollow thump reverberating as the blow landed, and Catarina arched with a massive inhalation. Her heart burst back into a racing rhythm and she came as it returned, groaning from the pit of her lungs and squirming beneath her fallen angel as she relentlessly toyed with her. She orgasmed twice, both times crying out and clutching for her strong thighs as Angelique rode astride her.

Then, as she lay panting and spent, Catarina let her lay across her body, head tucked against her chest. Unmade and made again. She smiled down at her beast and slid her arms around her.

[bardic-tales]

4.3.2023

Good evening, my friends, followers, and mutuals. Today's writing update comes kind of early. I was woken up earlier than I liked today, and thought that I would finish everything I had planned by 2:00 pm EST.

Also, if you sent me an ASK for STS, I will answer it next Saturday. I was here for a bit on Saturday but was offline Sunday. I look forward to answering your question.

Author’s commentary:

As I am breaking out of the writer's block that has been haunting me for who knows how long, I am writing in short bursts. I am also participating in Welcome to Writeblr's event this month.

Looking back at these updates, I am wondering if my aphasia can be seen coming through? Writing everyday does help keep my mind sharp, but it does take me more time to write than a normal author.

Today's Masterclass focused on Writing for a younger audience. An interesting takeaway was that an adult reader will give you up to 100 pages to become "hook" on your novel, but a child will need to be "hook" on the first page. It is still an important idea to have a stellar opener, however.

That's one piece of advice that I will carry with me throughout my writing career.

I worked somewhat on the short story. It is now over 1k words. I'm shooting between 1700 - 7000 words. Today, I was inspired by the Michael Crichton novel: Congo and the way that the gorillas defended their home. This is how Kaaksser collects the ingredients to revive his son.

For the introduction of Lady Florence-Deniau Casimir of Xynnar, I was inspired by a character in Fairy Tales. Florence was away from the village for three years, so she was away when Kaaksser's son was murder and her daughter taken.

Onto the snippet:

The cart creaked as it moved along the dilapidated road. With each wheel rotation, the aging woman bounced on the ripped, velvet bench. [. . .] No one ran out to greet the town’s hero. What men were out in village quickly rushed inside their homes and slammed their doors closed and shutters on the windows. This was Lady Florence-Deniau Casimir of Xynnar’s homecoming. This would have bothered a hero who needed attention, but Florence only had one goal. She wished to return to her lavish estate and spend time with her daughter. Hunting the elusive black dragon, Florence had been absent from Xynnar for about three years. When she had got close to finding the location of the elusive beast, it moved its lair to partially flooded ruins.

[after-witch]

Horrorfest: Damned to Live Forever (Vampire Yandere Aizawa x Reader)

Title: Damned to Live Forever (Vampire Yandere Aizawa x Reader)

Synopsis: You fall prey to the whims of a vampire with a penchant for lost, helpless souls. Inspired by a quote from The Hunger (1983): “We're damned to live forever - with no release, no end.”

Word Count: 1704

Notes: yandere, vampire, blood/slight gore

You hate walking alone at night. Not for sensible reasons, mind you--such as being worried about someone sticking a knife against your back and demanding your purse or your life; or even the fear of city rats, which had grown particularly plump and daring as of late.

No. You hate walking alone at night because of your childish fear of what might be lurking out there, in the dark, in the night: creepy crawlies and monsters and shadow-men and other childhood fears that have never quite lifted away. You still refused to walk by mirrors in the dark, you always crossed your finger when you walked by a cemetery, and you certainly wore your crucifix around your neck when you were walking alone at night.

You hadn’t been religious, not exactly, since childhood; blind faith had left you like other things, but in moments of fear, when you needed comfort, it was there. 

And a crucifix, in particular, was good at warding off vampires.

As you walk along the deserted city street, still damp from afternoon rain, you couldn't help but keep one hand on your purse and another on your necklace. Protect-me, protect-me, you think. Just in case. You're still repeating your mantra when you hear... something in the shadows, in the alley. You feel something, too. A rush--wind, but lighter. You hear the sound of rustling, a snapping sort of fabric sound, the sound you used to hear when your mom would snap laundry wrinkles.

And then--a cry, strangled, and soft, and desperate. "Help! Please!" It's coming from alley, just a few feet away.

You feel your legs turn cold. You want to run and every inch of your common sense screams at you: Run, run, run, run. But the sound of their cry replays in your head: help, please, help, please. Wouldn't you want someone to come to your rescue? Or at least try? Your desire to help pushes you to shove your hand into your purse and dig out your keys. You stick them in between your fingers like claws and press on ahead towards the plea for help.

Your work shoes click furiously against the pavement, mirroring your hammering heartbeat, as you rush into the unknown. You can just make out a figure, no, two figures: one, hunched over the other. The first figure, swathed in black, has their victim wrapped in some type of fabric. The other figure is sagging in the grip of the fabric, moaning softly in pain, breath hitching. Their eyes look enormous--white, bulging out of their face, terror-stricken.

The bulging, helpless gaze soon turns to you; they whimper, and in a moment the first figure straightens their back. They know you’re there.

You feel your bowels clench and the hand gripping your keys weakens; they drop to the ground, clattering so loud you could swear they echo. The dark figure slowly turns around, facing you, and your hand instinctively clutches your crucifix.

It’s… not human. Its eyes are black. Blood and bits of skin cling to their chin. Their mouth, partially open, reveals two sharp fangs.

A vampire.

All of your childish fears flood your mind in an instant; years of nightmares and novels and terrified tip-toeing into your parent’s bedrooms because you swear you heard something scratching at the window and-no-it-wasn’t-a-branch.

The creature releases the other figure. You notice dimly that their body drops on the ground, unceremoniously, ashen grey and lifeless. The fabric that had encircled them seems to slither back to the first figure on its own accord, wrapping around its neck.

You back up in horror, thinking foolishly, nonsensically, that if you can just make it back into the street you’ll be safe. You don’t take more than a step or two before your shirt is suddenly gripped, and you are slammed against the wall.

Your breath comes in terrible, ragged pants as you look up at the creature’s face. Up close, it was even more unearthly. The smell of dirt and stone filled your nostrils. It reminded you of fresh graves you used to smell on the way to school, walking past the cemetery with your fingers crossed so hard that they hurt. Its skin had a strange, pink clamminess to it; the black eyes seemed to dance with shadow. But it was the fangs, and the mouth, covered in drying blood and gore, that had your attention.

The creature, still gripping your shirt tightly in one hand, brings the other up to your face. Its hands are surprisingly clean, with fingernails filed into sharp points. You whimper when you feel a finger run along your cheek. It feels like a razor, and you swear you can feel blood already dribbling from a cut.

The creature leans in, and you groan in terror at the sight of the fangs and blood and its tongue darting out to lick your cheek. The fear overtakes your body, bringing back your almost primal childhood responses, and the hand holding your crucifix trembles as you begin whispering wildly, feverishly: Lord-protect-me-lord-please-please-please.

At your pleas, the creature stops; it seems to notice your hand tightly fisted around the crucifix. Its cold, clammy hand peels at your fingers, and you let go with a numb lack of resistance. At the sight of the crucifix, you see it smile. Not cruel, exactly. But… smiling in pity. In condescension.

You whimper as it tugs at the necklace and easily drops it on the ground, as if it was just another trinket.

“You’re so helpless,” the creature says, looking down at you with its mild, condescending gaze.

You simply stare back, frozen in fear and unsure of what to do, what will happen, if you will die and how horrible it will be. You find yourself staring at its eyes, eager to avoid the bloody mouth. Its black eyes seem to dance with shadows; from far away, they were simply pure black, but up close you can see things in them. Shapes. Figures.

Taking advantage of your state, the creature gently traces the outline of your jaw with the pad of its fingers, carefully avoiding slicing open your skin.

“And you know it… don’t you? That’s why you wear that necklace, that’s why you cross your fingers when you walk by a graveyard…” His voice is soft, almost soothing.

His words make your voice return, if only to express your terror-soaked confusion. “How--how did you know that I cross my fingers…” You don’t finish, swallowing thin amounts of saliva. You want water.

The creature tuts, and traces a finger softly down to your neck. Your entire body shudders. “I’ve known everything about you since the moment I saw you. An entire lifetime in a few seconds. Such a short life… you go from dust to dust in no time at all, don’t you?”

You try to stutter out a response, but you suddenly feel its sharp nail piercing your neck and the pain stops your thoughts. “No--” you say, thin and sad and mortal. “Please, I don’t want to die.”

It tilts up your chin with a bloody nail. Your eyes are drawn to its dark eyes, and the swirling shapes within, as it smiles. Its fangs are still bloody.

“You won’t die, dear. You’ll see… when I finish, you’ll see..”

You don’t have time to ask what he means before he lunges towards your neck, biting into the soft flesh with sharp, jagged fangs. You cry out, disbelieving, startled by the pain and the sudden feeling of cloth wrapped tightly around your limbs, keeping you stock-still as he tore into your throat. 

The smell of blood enveloped your nostrils and the sickening realization that it was your blood, your life force, being sucked down greedily strikes you as terribly cruel. The sensation of hot liquid dribbling down your neck does nothing to lessen the thought. 

The pain never lessens, but your energy seems to fade, bit by bit, as he feasts on you. Your mind feels fuzzy and you briefly begin to pray inside your head, over and over; something you used to say before bed as a child, giving you a frenzied sense of peace as your vision starts to blacken. But your prayers are interrupted by the creature’s low voice.

“No need for that, dearest. Drink.”

You can’t lift your head to ask him what he means. Drink? You want water. You open your mouth.

Instead he shoves his wrist, open and bleeding, onto your gasping face. You unwillingly swallow the thick red substance; instead of iron, you taste sweet, beautiful relief. But with it comes what the creature meant when he said “you’ll see.

Because you do see, then. You see the vampire’s life, hundreds of hundreds of years, rushing by like a moving picture. You see thousands of victims, dead and lifeless, dropping to the ground when he’s finished with them. 

You see dozens of others, men and women, petted and bitten and turned into creatures of the night. You see them kept and coddled, bound by blood and sometimes chains; you feel their bitterness and elation and even, sometimes, love for their maker. You feel his love for them, his pity and control and his frustration when they fight him.

But most of all you feel the weight of eternity, pressing upon you from all sides. There would be no death, from accident or old age, for you; no decaying body rotting inside a wooden coffin as cities are built on top of you; no crumbling into dust, no fading away. Only life eternal, surrounded by darkness and doomed to kill forever.

You feel your soul withering away as you black out; the last feeling being the sense of the creature--your maker, you realize, your maker--carrying you in his arms.

“We’re damned to live forever with no release, no end.”

[izartn]

MDZS JGY fic promt

I’m thinking about Meng Yao/Jin Guangyao and I think I would love to read a fic of him snapping in the opposite direction of his desperate grab for power and respect from his shit father. We know, thanks to JGS gruesome murder that at some point, after already being a shitty human doing murdery things, JGY snapped hard and said: “if i’m gonna do the shitty things of running this sect i’ll do them for myself and fuck you to death”. Quite literally. 

So I’d like to imagine a world where he, like, not necessary becomes a much better person; I dunno about the JZX and WWX kill plot, or about NMJ. I think he’s very set in his auto-preservating self-beneficing ways, and if you don’t really work well with that part of his chara then he’s not JGY anymore. 

But instead of being, I’ll become the highest in the cultivation world, so i will be finally respected and listened to (uhm, didnt’ work especially well did it? they never let him forget his mother profession when it was his father who was the absolute worst) he decides that while cultivation is still something to aspire to -can’t forget about his mother dying dream, also longer life and health benefits + being a hero, doing the decent thing- he realises the cultivation sect system as it is horrible. 

He was in the middle of the war, he saw it from both sides. He then went to low to high but still a servant. And it’s always blood what counts. He sees what happens to his other bastard brothers, to WWX when he decides enough is enough, and how he himself is still treated by his Sect despite his intelligence and abilities. And instead of trying to take refuge in the system, he is a bit more self-aware or inquiring; maybe he is more idealistic in some ways? But still oh so bitter, and decides to destroy the system from within.

You know what? Do it so he still rises to Leader of the Jin Sect (without prostitutes murdering and necrophilia; he is now more on the side of the common, so maybe he gets the help of Sisi or someone he knows to aid him poison his father and after he gets them a nice reward and packs them to a new life in Japan or something. Or he simply uses another subtle method without intermediaries or with unaware ones, he is certainly able of doing that when he isnt being an ironic murderer shit.) because it’ll serve him, and to be the leader responsible of making sure the so estimated Jin blood is disposesed will make him smug pleased. To slowly gain power and bit by bit erase the division between the noble clans and people who learn simply bcs of talent, scouting youngsters witht the excuse of replenishing the clans after the war and quiting the idiots nobles from their spoiled positions. 

Hell you can even make LXC and NMJ (did he died before or after JGY becomes Sect Leader? Well if he is still alive, NHS doesn’t destroy him, but then WWX doesn’t come back. If he dies before, then the vengeance is still in play, but it’ll be even more fraughted bcs now JGY goals and methods are a lot more morally grey and watching WWX and LWJ confront that would be super interesting O-O), you can make them see those policies and be like, oh sure, that’s a good thing you’re doing A-yao. But also conflict with their positions in the nobility system, as time pases and JGY subtly passes more changes and brings to ruin those sect leaders more entrenched in the old ways and abusing of their people.

 Programs for literacy, for the spread of knowledge and the civil use of cultivation techniques with the excuse of avoiding beforehand the formation of ghosts and resentment appealing to the lazy nature of the rich while eliminating bit by bit the necessity of their existence, like boiling a frog, the creation of the watchtowers still fits nicely and we know in canon he faced oppposition there so here it’s more important still, even more so Su She I think, will be elated with this turn of events and even more loyal lmao if JGY sells it well and JGY sells his ideas really well. 

Maybe he helps XXC and SL bcs it’s in his interest they find success although he finds them naive; but JGY has a canon soft spot for people who treat him well regardless of his common born status, so. Maybe he intercedes with XY and convinces him to work with him taking out nobles reasonably (I bet XY will like that), and manages to avoid somehow XY elaborated revenge on SL and XXC? or executes him when he is too much of a wild card, but we know how that ended in canon... The best bet is making XY see on his own best interest to help in JGY vision but that’s well. almost crack fic lmao. 

OH! Maybe he finds XY before the massacre of the Chang clan bcs he is searching for someone to help him above table and gets to him by offering a more subtle but still suitable appropriate revenge with the pro bonus of getting to do the same to others after and access to WWX manuscripts. You know this has a much higher chance of working, let’s go with this scenario. So he keeps XY out of his father reach, when he is searching for someone to gain control of the stygian seal and wen ning. Yeah, this will appeal immensely to JGY xD

You know, and JGY being beloved by the people, and having more than a facade of being just or fair, but proving it although it isn't in the interest of the nobles. And as he is politics savvy, although with more effort he could certainly make it so he avoids assassinations or walking in a minefield like wwx etc. 

Depending on the NMJ situation... You could make it so NMJ doesn’t die and then they enter a stalemate of grudging respect bcs JGY wants more an ally in swaying people for his cause than his revenge, although he sure could make non lethal things to inconvenience NMJ lol. And NHS as sect leader wouldn’t have the same power to his decisions and reach, no matter if he is more manipulable; after all isn’t NHS a pampered noble in JGY eyes? Who could be sure if he even would follow JGY anyways... 

And you could give it different endings depending on the development of JGY: a success where he gets to the point were factually the sects aren’t bloods based anymore, just a few like the lan (those traditionalists lol) resisting an unavoidable wave of change taht comes for everybody, and the money doesn’t flow in their pockets like a river to the ocean but instead it goes back to the people. 

You could make it so it’s a partial success bcs JGY is still himself and does more than a few morally grey things that come to light with the NMJ murder reveal, but his changes linger and the common people plus others of the same ideal now trained and in process of being cultivators won’t let themselves be cowered by the awful nobility -another big conflict breeding, and maybe it won’t be successful but people have long memories and books and the new ideals of equality would spread regardless, so it would start again and again each time a bit better-. I think WWX POV in this case would be delicious omg, LXC conflict even more pointed. This would be, I think the more realistic and interesting to write take on the idea. Iand you now, I’m in favor of a novel setting and characterization, but to make it more painful, use the 16 gap of the show and nothing else (i haven’t see the show beyond the first episodes bcs i couldn’t take it lol)  so JGY has more time to make changes. 

You could make a downer ending (this I wouldn’t like lmao, but it’s there) so that shows the cruelty and inability of making changes to something so integrated and supported by itself, that JGY loses much to his revenge he takes more and more radical actions that come back to bit his ass with NMJ and JGS murder revelation. I think XY in here would be appropriate, in an antagonist role as in MDZS. But it still has an impact; JGY’s life, despite his faults was still more inspirational, made better impact than his canon self. Make it poetically tragic and a comment on the futility of trying to change society by oneself, but find beauty in the attempt itself which has created community, which will in the future do the true work of overthrowing the yokes of the high ups, educating and helping each other in their messy human lives.

All this ending, and JL conflict, who at this point has learnt much at his uncle JGY side, who has decided to (dunno about marrying QS and A-Song’s death. depending on your take and ending it’ll have different impact) go on with his labor bc he sees the good on it and swears to not be like the worst of JGY. A legacy he can reconcile with himself thanks too, to the experience of meeting WWX. JL is in a more fraught position with JC in this verse, I think, bc for one, he is more mature/not so spoiled and that would make JC glad, but his ideas are at the same time understable and anatema to JC who puts so much of his life on honoring the clan on making sure the Jiang carry on and his name isn’t forgotten but who recruited from nothing during the war. Who sees the danger in alienating the powers of the cultivation sects bc he saw what it did to WWX and he believes in protecting his own and to hell with the rest. 

So very interesting!!! 

You could spin so many takes from this, it’d be so fascinating and satisfying. I’d love to see the chara of JGY developed in this direction, bcs he has so much potential to waste it in so petty goals. His ambition is certainly big enough to believe he will damn well do a silent revolution well. 

Just, using the classics to argue for equality and education and a good life even if you’re a peasant, using the cultivation basis and its suppose use to better oneself and the world in making a point of avoiding wars and violent retribution (to the public, he’s still a bit of an hypocrit bcs it serves him well to have a stick with which to beat his enemies lmao) and instead use diplomacy and a sort of rehabilitation or service thing. Because those ideas are there, in the different clasics and schools of thought (not confucianism, not as much) it’s just that the nobles and high scholars were never interested and used them to argue for a sort of natural hierarchy were they’re in top. 

 Let JGY create a new school of thought, and LXC and others seeing the merit on it. JGY has the reach and the intelligence and the ability. 

The best revenge is living well and destroying the system which allowed the other to harm you, the ideas, the means. Create a fantasy fulfillment ^^

[yetremains]

“...”

“Well damn, alright.” Yang downed the rest of her tea quickly, before gasping for a breath as she shoved her cup away.

“Lightning round, lets go!”

chocolate: when was your first kiss?

“It was in my young teen years, 15 I think. I’d been dating that individual for a couple weeks before they abruptly decided to kiss me then and there. We’d been dancing around the subject for a while. It wasn’t spicy or romantic, merely spur of the moment. Was sweet though. The year after that we had broke up and remained friends for a while until we lost contact.”

french vanilla: how old are you?

“You shouldn’t ask someone their age when they been through shit. Too god damn old is the best answer if you must know. I’m older than 28, trust me. Don’t let looks fool you. But hey, I’m getting even older come December 25th!”

cotton candy: three places you want to travel to?

“Do places long gone count? Can I say Home? Nah probably not. So three places let’s see... Japan, China, Romania. The actual places not whatever anything makes them out to be.”

strawberry: a language you wish you could speak?

“I know a damn lot of languages actually. Sometimes it’s hard to think of the right words to say because of this, knowing so many. It’s one reason I’m so odd with my way of speaking. However, I would not mind learning some dead languages. If that doesn’t count, then... Persian?”

coffee: favorite cosmetic brands?

“Ah hell. I mean, I’m not much of a cosmetic expert here. I work with whatever I really need for a music show or for just every day. I could say L’Oreal because I’m worth it joke but that seems in bad taste. If I was using cosmetics just for the enjoyment or to look special, I just try and get whatever works for me.”

mint chocolate chip: indoors or outdoors?

“Answered this one~!”

cookie dough: do you play any instruments?

“Plenty. I’ve decided to learn a few different ones so I can mix together my own music needs of demands arise for it. But I really enjoy stringed instruments or wind instruments. I carry a small harmonica or Ryūteki in my packs.”

rocky road: favorite songs at the moment?

“Not easy to give an answer for, I’ve got a really broad taste. But I’m thinking something with a heavier beat at the moment-”

butter pecan: favorite songs for life?

“Oh come on this makes it harder. As I said, broad taste. I can find enjoyment in many kinds of music and lyrics. Can’t exactly answer a favorite song for life here.”

cheesecake: what’s your zodiac sign?

“Which zodiac are we talking here? There are a lot out there. But the first one into my head is Capricorn. I am on the 25th of December.”

toasted coconut: the beach or the pool?

“As nice as the ocean can be, fuck the ocean. I’ll enjoy the coast line just fine but you won’t catch me swimming that far out in it. There is damn good reason why I don’t like the ocean much anymore. I’ll relax in a pool or a lake or river, thank you.”

chocolate chip: what’s your most popular post?

“Good question. I’ve made a few social media posts that exploded. But that’s probably not fair considering the music I do. I think my most popular is from years ago when I spray painted a statue of a certain someone to look like a baboon.”

bubblegum: books or movies?

“Both! Why choose? I enjoy both quite a bit. and besides, Books can always be there no matter what. And can hold so much valuable information depending what you are reading.”

pistachio: manga or anime?

“... Both again? But I prefer novels. This is more a guilty pleasure.”

salted caramel: favorite movies?

“I can’t remember the last movie I watched, if I’m honest, let alone a favorite movie.”

birthday cake: favorite books?

“Hmmm. Hard one. I enjoy the collected works of Edgar Allen Poe? There is Shōgun. The Mark of Zorro, Sherlock Holmes, Bram Stoker Dracula... There’s several.”

moose tracks: favorites for manga?

“Not exactly applicable, I don’t remember the name of any I like when I was young.”

orange sherbet: favorites for anime?

“The same as above. Wow I am old... I should really get in touch with these things again.”

peanut butter: favorite academic subject?

“Hah, I loved science and history. A damn lot really. I’ve used both to really help my self along and it’s come in handy. My need for knowledge had me spend a lot of time researching.”

black raspberry: do you have any pets?

“I’ve not had any pets since I was a rookie. Never had the time to truly care for one, and now with a hectic life, I’m not gonna do that to an animal.”

mango: when and why did you start your blog?

“Suppose just to exist and have something to do between pit stops.”

mocha: ideal weather conditions?

“It is torn between two for me. A nice warm day, clear, maybe with a gentle breeze. Some clouds above, and calm. That’s the ideal outing day... But, I suppose due to my birthday, I can enjoy a soft snow coming down,some snow on the ground, watching through a window with tea in hand while bundled up and warm. Much prefer clear day though.”

black cherry: four words that describe you?

“Now that’s just not fair. Let me think... Loyal, Determined, Caring, Protective.”

neapolitan: things that stress you out?

“Being reminded of my failings and those I’ve lost... the people I’ve hurt... Thinking about friends I wish I was closer too but too fearful to be that close. Hm. I can also be stressed out by far too much stimulation for my brain at once that it can spin my gears way too quickly.”

raspberry truffle: favorite kind of music?

“Again, broad tastes. But depending on my mood or feelings, it changes what my favorite kind of music can be. But I will always enjoy something gentle and calming.”

chocolate marshmallow: favorite brands of candy?

“I’ve always been partial to chocolates, or cream items.”

toffee: a card game that you’re good at?

“Ever hear of a game called Egyptian Rat Race? Also known as Egyptian Rat Screw, dunno why of course. I learned this game when I was a kid. 52 card deck, deal to each player until the deck is entirely used and everyone has a pile face down. Starting to the left of the dealer players pull the top card off their pile and place it face-up in the middle. If the card played is a number card, the next player puts down a card, too. This continues around the table until somebody puts down a face card or an Ace. When a face card or an ace is played, the next person in the sequence must play another face card or an ace in order for play to continue.If the next person in the sequence does not play a face card or an ace within their allotted chance, the person who played the last face card or an ace wins the round and the whole pile goes to them. The winner begins the next round of play.“

lemon custard: do you eat breakfast?

“Uh... Admittedly not often. With my metabolism problem I absolutely should, considering the demanding needs. I just can’t always bring my self to do so, the will for it isn’t there. I do snack though.”

dark chocolate: turn ons?

“Ooohh boy... Now this one has me turning a bit red here. I mean there is biting and tight holds, the usual stuff. But... I’m not gonna list a lot here, a turn on can be blindfolding me if I trust my partner enough.”

fudge: turn offs?

“Being an asshole, for one.”

peach: how do you relax?

“A nice cup of tea, maybe some soft music, and let my mind unwind a little. That’s if I’m alone. Otherwise a gentle conversation with a friend about small things... Once upon a time long ago I would have said long hugs or cuddling. Not an option these days.”

praline: a popular book you haven’t read yet?

“I’ve not read The Golden Compass, that has been on my to do list.”

superman: do you like sweaters?

“Weird how this one is with sweaters... but yeah I can enjoy sweaters in the right weather. They can be soft and warm, comfy. Great for cold days.”

cherry: do you drink tea or coffee?

“I drink both actually. But if I have the option for a good tea I’m going to take it without hesitation. Yet the spark of energy from Coffee can’t be denied.”

dulce de leche: an instrument you wish you could play?

“Without a doubt, Taisho-goto. Have you seen one of those? It’s so intricate and amazing, and can sound wonderful. It can be used to play all sorts of things. Fascinates me that the item was half inspired by a typewriter.”

blackberry: have you ever laughed so hard you cried?

“Oh a few times actually. It’s been a good long while now since I’ve gone that far, but it’s come close. But once upon a time this has happened!”

ginger: a new feature you wish tumblr could have?

“To Become A Functioning Website.”

blueberry lemon: favorite blogs?

“Now that’s just kissing and telling...” (( I’d also have to tag and dont wanna spam. ))

almond: favorite mean girls quote?

“Oddly specific, but... Variations of ‘One time she punched me in the face. It was awesome.’. “

butterscotch: what color are your nails right now?

“Uh, natural and colorless? I’ve not painted my nails in a while.”

cinnamon: have you ever been confessed to?

“I have yes.”

blue moon: have you ever had a crush on someone?

“Again, yes. We’re not gonna go into this can of worms.”

cappuccino crunch: do you take naps?

“Sometimes. There comes the occasion when one does get exhausted and needs a damn nap.”

mint: the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done?

“Get way too flustered and accidentally admit I liked someone.”

brownie batter: do you like sushi?

“Completely! You say we’re going to get Sushi and you have my full attention.”

key lime: where do you want to be right now?

“Home unfortunately.”

red velvet: do you wear prescription glasses?

“Nope! I’m thankful for that, but one day I have no doubt that’s going to change.”

green tea: favorite flavors of ice cream?

“Mochi green tea, chocolate chip mint, red bean, Strawberry shortcake... Gelato raspberry or orange cream.”

[shiningstages]

@aaetherius - { Lancelot and Vane! }

send me an otp (headcanons)

Who’s the messiest one: Lancelot. All outsiders looking in would be surprised by it, but everyone who knows them knows that, while the captain of white dragons may be diligent and take utmost care of details in everything else, that wasn’t the case for his messy room or study (though he somehow knows where all his papers are, even if they’re stacked and scattered everywhere). Vane, on the other hand, loves doing household chores and simply tidying things up in general, so his desk and room are one of the best kept places (on the ship or at home in Feendrache). He also helps Lancelot tidy things up, either just in spurts of inspiration to clean or if the other really looks like he needs the help.

Who feels the most uncomfortable about PDA: I don’t think either of them feel uncomfortable at all? I would say Vane is the more flustered of the two when it comes to PDA, partially because he feels embarrassed to show like that in general, but also partially his thoughts on not really expecting or deserving any kind of romantic gesture (looks at vday and white day lines). Though I also think he’s a huge romantic (looks at the picnic from his SSR fates) and can be very boisterous and outgoing in expressing his love for Lancelot (one day he will bridal carry him; cuddle him real close; the good stuff, and all while Arthur and Mordred look on in awe). But Lancelot is also pretty romantic, and I’d argue probably the initiator of a lot of romantic or tender moments (probably 60/40) so I don’t think he’d be uncomfortable with PDA unless he has to show his captain persona in front of royal officials or foreign guests (though I think the king gives them his blessing, even if they don’t know it).

Who's the funniest drunk: Lancelot actually getting drunk is funny in it’s own right, so that in essence would make it his win. Yet I could see both of them letting go of all their inhibitions (read: insecurities) when under the influence in equally interesting ways. Lancelot is probably more of a talkative drunk in my mind; not necessarily spilling every secret he has, but certainly his mouth is unhinged and he can go on about any topic for hours. Vane is a more party and crying drunk; he will make sure everybody is having a good time but also fully indulge himself in fun activities, but catch him when the mood isn’t as bright and he’s crying away every insecurity or even just any thought he has (“this shibe………*sniffles* it was so cute, but i couldn’t pet it;;;” like literally anything about his day he will remember and cry over). Though I also think they’re both sleepy drunks, and as soon as they have one too many, they actually get a good night’s sleep (but not in a very healthy way, and they are gonna regret everything the morning after as they take some pain meds).

Who texts the most: Vane! While they’ve both texted back and forth quite a bit, Vane always texts in the morning and at night to make sure Lancelot has a good day or gets some rest, and also messages him a lot of reminders (either general things he’ll need that day, or just to tell him he loves him, or just like “oh this song i heard reminded me of you!” or a quote that did or something like that). I would like to think that he also sends lots of emojis sometimes, though it’s more to express tone and not to spam (though if they’re texting through LINE then he might spam one too many stickers).

Who has the most embarrassing taste in music: I feel like Lancelot just feels embarrassed over the fact that someone could happen upon his swing collection at any moment, though I also feel like they’d both really enjoy swing or jazz a lot. Maybe the more embarrassing would be if he ever had a punk faze and someone found rock or punk mixed in with the swing and classical music (or if anyone sees him rocking out to Aoidos/Benjamin).

Who reads the most: Lancelot! I feel like reading stimulates Lancelot’s mind, but also gives his mind a total break from work to focus on more uncharted seas of pages, making it maybe one of the better activities for him to relax to while not feeling like he’s indulging too much in himself (he’s exercising his brain after all~). Vane probably likes reading too, though he’s more for reading to people rather than for his own amusement (he admittedly gets tired a bit too quickly when reading a novel).

Who’s better with kids: Vane! While I think they’re both great with kids, and nurturing and fun with them in their own ways, I feel like Vane is the less afraid of the two to tackle everything there is when it comes to babysitting or playing around. He’s quick to be the fun big brother and carry them around on his arms, the reassuring ear whenever they seem hung up on something (and is very good of thinking of answers to questions on the fly, except for “where do babies come from?”), and being both stern but understanding when they get hurt or hurt something (drawing on the walls, breaking vases, etc.). In a next life, he could probably make a really good preschool or elementary school teacher (he’d probably be good with all ages, but the lil ones just adore him y’know?).

Who’s the one that fixes things around the house: I feel like both of them are technically savvy at this, but they both have different approaches. Vane sees a thing broken or the sink is being weird, and he goes headfirst into using what they have around to fix it (or he does go to the store if he knows what will fix it but they don’t have it). Lancelot is more the type to look at the thing that needs fixing, looking up through searches and possibly his memory of this breaking in the past, and then gets everything he needs to fix it (possibly even having multiple solutions ready should he need any backup plans).

Who’s got the weirdest hobby: I would like to say none of their hobbies are very weird. Outsiders may think a man who loves to clean and do laundry is a bit out there, but it’s not a very eccentric hobby either. And maybe studying tactics and collecting weapons could be seen as a bit much, but could also be seen as just working too hard given their main verse jobs. So there’s a bit of weirdness but also a lot of understanding to it, so neither of them really beats out the other.

Who cooks and who cleans up: *points at the first question* Vane has always loved to cook (says the girl who hasn’t read the bistro event yet) and very much loves both being in the kitchen and tidying things up. So, if anything, Vane kind of forces himself into being the one that cooks dinner and cleans up around the house. Though Lancelot certainly tries to tackle both to help Vane out, not wanting the other to overwork himself or take on all the responsibilities, but that’s also if Vane lets him help (less out of a desire to dominate those areas, but rather more out of a “i’m already doing it, and you deserve some rest Lanchan!” type attitude). Though he does certainly let Lancelot in, especially if one of them brings about cooking a new recipe or cleaning up the office as a bonding moment.

[markoftheasphodel]

Unfulfilled Dream: An Introduction to Finn and House Leonster

This is intended to assist fans of Three Houses, and specifically Blue Lions fans, in understanding what the hell FE old-timers are talking about when the names “Quan,” “Finn,” and “Leif” come up with regard to Dimitri and his retainers (and Dimitri/Dedue in particular). You may have encountered these characters in FE Heroes, but there’s a lot more stuff out there and it’s not all in one place, or even readily available in translation. So here goes.

So, as a starting point, Azure Moon route of Three Houses is heavily influenced by Thracia 776 (aka FE5) and the more familiar you are with FE5, the more evident the parallels/echoes are. But going backward from Azure Moon to its inspiration, or to Genealogy of the Holy War (FE4) which served as an inspiration for Three Houses itself, can be really confusing.

We have the two games, FE4 and FE5, both of them for the SNES, neither of them ever given a worldwide release. Both have modern, very good patches so if you want to play them, it’s a much better user experience than it used to be. We have two artbooks, Treasure for FE4 and Illustrated Works for FE5, both of them only partially translated via websites and translation blogs. We have developer notes and interviews. We have the appearances of these characters as Einherjar in Awakening. We have their modern appearances in Fire Emblem Heroes.  We have the modern run of Cipher cards as well as much older TCG cards. And finally, we have various manga and light novels, many of which have been fan-translated of late but also rather... dubious as “game canon.”

So, to grasp Quan, or Finn, or Leif, it’s a bit like being told “read 100 support conversations plus some DLC that never got translated,” right?

Here are the basics that might be of interest to Three Houses fans!

Quan is the prince of Leonster, a small but wealthy kingdom on the Thracian Peninsula, which juts eastward from the continent of Jugdral. He carries the Major Holy Blood (so, kind of like a Major Crest) of Njörun, one of the Twelve Crusaders who liberated Jugdral from an evil cult several generations before. His holy weapon is Gae Bolg, aka The Lance of Love and Sorrow, reputed to be cursed. Quan generally at war with his neighbor to the south, King Travant of Thracia (a poor nation), who also has Major Holy Blood and is a descendant of Dáinn, Njörun’s brother. Each of them wants to unite the Thracian peninsula and rule over the whole thing; despite an Irish naming scheme, Leonster was inspired by Italy and is supposed to be an elegant, fashionable place with a thriving middle class. Quan attended a fancy military academy in the center of the continent (the direct inspiration for Garreg Mach!) and has two close friends from other nations, Eldigan and Sigurd, also heirs to holy bloodlines. The three of them swear an oath to always have each others’ backs and Quan marries Sigurd’s sister Ethlyn, who has minor holy blood (like a minor crest but with no holy weapon access). They have two children, Altena and Leif.

Finn starts off as Quan’s page. I say “starts off” because FE4 and FE5 follow him over the course of twenty years. He’s the child of a noble house in Leonster, and when he was orphaned he was sent to the castle to be raised/educated. He’s not skilled at making friends but he does become Quan’s page and grows to think of Ethlyn as a big sister of sorts. When Quan and Ethlyn go to war across the continent to assist Sigurd, Finn wants to come along and they take him, even though he’s maybe fifteen and barely old enough to fight. Quan mentors Finn (which is something we see in FE4 itself), building his confidence up, telling Finn he’s the most promising knight of his generation, bequeathing Finn a special lance of his own, and ultimately entrusting Finn with guardianship of Quan’s son and heir, Leif. Finn in turn becomes utterly devoted to Quan and to Quan’s ambition of ruling all of Thracia.

A word about devotion. This is not “devotion” in the sense we’ve seen from Frederick or Jakob in recent FE games, where it’s performative and kind of amusing, with complicated tea rituals and recruiting slogans and whatnot. This is straight-up utter acceptance of someone else’s dreams and ambition as one’s own purpose in life. Hold that thought.

Anyway, Quan and Ethlyn are ambushed and killed by Travant shortly after Leif is born; every knight in their party is massacred in the Yied Desert. The rest of the continent is falling under the sway of the Grannvale Empire (Eldigan’s already dead, Sigurd dies shortly after Quan&Ethlyn), and Leonster is able to hold out for a couple of years before it falls to a one/two attack by Travant’s Thracian army and the Grannvale Empire. Finn, who’s been caring for Leif as his guard, escapes from the burning castle with Leif in his arms (Leif’s grandmother Queen Alfiona dies in the blaze; his grandfather King Kalf died shortly before on the battlefield, betrayed by allies).

The Yied Massacre and the Fall of Leonster are the Jugdrali psychological horror-show that parallel the Tragedy of Duscur’s impact on House Blaiddyd. Finn is devastated by the fact that his duty to Leif kept him from Quan&Ethlyn’s side during the massacre because dying with them would’ve been preferable to surviving them. He hasn’t recovered from that when Leonster falls in an inferno that traumatizes him for, as far as we can tell, the rest of his life. As Leif tells it, Finn then shut down emotionally to the point where he neither cries nor laughs. Of course, Leif himself is scarred by the memory of the burning castle, and that and the loss of his parents fuels his own rage and desire for revenge. Leif is also bothered by the fact that he only has minor holy blood from his parents, which is much less impressive than having two minor Crests because he can’t use any holy weapons. On the other hand, two types of minor holy blood don’t kill you.

(I think at this point many of y’all can see how these events are echoed in Azure Moon. The atrocity, the survivor’s guilt, the fallout on both a child prince with a heavy burden and his retainer who’s struggling with his own issues.)

After this, Finn has nothing aside from his duty to Leif, and as he sees it his duty to Leif is ultimately to see Leif placed on the throne of a unified Thracian peninsula as its sole king. He raises Leif and Leif’s companion Nanna/Jeanne (Jugdral is complicated) under a variety of harsh & tragic circumstances for the next thirteen years. Sometimes he has to forego meals to feed the kids. The people who assist him usually end up dead. At least once he gets betrayed by the citizens of the town they’re hiding in. And so on. These are not circumstances that really allow one to recover from trauma, and by the time Leif himself is fifteen years old and the game plot of Thracia 776 begins, Finn still doesn’t give a damn as to whether he lives or dies as long as he can see Leif made King of Thracia. This is where the portrayal of Finn in Fire Emblem Heroes comes from-- by this point he’s about thirty-four and he really hasn’t had a good day in his life since he was about nineteen.

One of the Cipher cards probably says it the best: His fallen master protected him, saw him through to adulthood, and entrusted him with an unfulfilled dream, and now Finn leads the way to a new era in his motherland! That complete, utter, unswerving dedication to Quan and his unfulfilled dream is what brings Finn to mind when discussing Dedue (cutscene after Gronder in Verdant Wind, anyone?) It’s not funny. It’s tragic. It’s kind of disturbing. Thracia 776 offers a lot of commentary on knights and knighthood-- not as savage as the discussions Felix has with his Blue Lions comrades, but pointed nonetheless-- and with Finn as the Jugdrali exemplar of A Knight, that criticism rebounds, directly or indirectly, on him. Knighthood is kind of effed up and so is Finn. 

Finn does get the opportunity to get his revenge on Travant in FE4, as both he and Leif have boss-battle conversations with Travant making it 100% clear they’re after revenge (Leif even speaks of killing Travant with his bare hands!). Travant’s death helps clear the way for Leif to take the throne of Thracia after the war... and with the dream at last fulfilled, Finn disappears, apparently into the Yied Desert where Quan and Ethlyn died. (He does come back three years later.) He’s got nothing else in his life. He’s seemingly not equipped to take over the usual veteran-knight role as some kind of advisor or general... or, after all that, he just WANTS to disappear for a while.

(You say, this is pretty TL;DR for “the basics”; I say, “I left a lot of stuff out, especially wrt shipping” because Jugdrali shipping is complicated.)

Anyway, so that’s the outline of the plot stuff. Note again, this takes more than twenty years to play out-- more than double the time elapsed between the Tragedy of Duscur and Dimitri’s final victory in Azure Moon. Jugdral is a long, long, hard slog for the characters that survive it.

Now, here’s where we get to the interpretive part. Finn’s devotion to Quan (and thence to Leif) and his trauma and self-abnegation are not up for debate. Hell, FE Heroes provides a pretty fair encapsulation of it. What Heroes also conveys is the sheer depth of his grief for Quan after fifteen, seventeen, twenty years... a grief that leads a number of fans, including me, to see a romantic subtext there. Maybe Quan, as a happily married man with two kids, wasn’t ever thinking of his page-turned-protege like that, but in between some interesting bits of dialogue in FE5 about Finn being “cold to women” and his current portrayal in Heroes, it does create the impression that at the very least Finn’s feelings for Quan went outside the ordinary bounds of the lord/retainer relationship. As Jugdral by its nature doesn’t lead to the sorts of paired endings we see in Three Houses, that’s really something fans have to experience for themselves. 

If that interests you, hopefully this essay has provided some pointers on where to find material. Have fun!

[phoxphyre]

10 Writing Questions Tag Game

Thank you @sbazzing and @vkelleyart for the tag! I’m loving reading everyone else’s answers. 

1. What’s your favorite genre to write?

Historical fantasy--I get really hooked on the research. I fell in love with history in school and then majored in Classics in college and have just...never emerged. I thought that might be different for fanfiction, but given that I’m now knee-deep in a regency AU...um, I guess not. 

For fanfiction, mostly AUs so far. I love canon desperately, but I think I’m too new to fanfiction to have developed the knack for finding “gaps” to fill with fic. Maybe it will come? 

2. Do you pull inspiration from real life, or do you pull things from other books/fan fiction you’ve read?

All of the above? The emotions are definitely drawn directly from my own experience, and my characters tend to have a lot of bits and pieces of myself and other people I know in real life. It’s hard for me to write something that feels “true” without putting myself into it. But the situations are all fantasy!

I saw a great interview with Lin-Manuel Miranda (one of my personal heroes) where he said that he has a lot of browser tabs open in his brain all the time. That rang true to me. I can only hope that I’m mashing all of those influences into something that feels new. In fanfiction in particular I’m still learning the norms around how much it’s okay to borrow from/be inspired by other people’s fics. 

3. Do you tend to write one-shots, short stories, or longer things?

Hahahahaha. *snort* I’m constitutionally unable to write short things. I was that person in school who had to cut literally pages from my papers, and then shrink the font size and narrow the margins. Even my short stories turn into novellas. My novellas turn into epics. My epics turn into...well, see answer 8 below. 

4) Do you prefer to write description or dialogue?

Dialogue! Internal monologue, too. Descriptions are harder for me and I end up having to go back and fill them in after the fact. 

One thing I love about writing for CO (versus my novel, which is based in a fantasy version of ancient Asia Minor) is that I get to write modern dialogue. Lord, how I have missed snappy dialogue. 

But then of course I have to go write a regency AU. Apparently I live to suffer.  

5) Favorite fic/book of all time?

Oh wow, it’s a long list. I reread a lot and there are a whole pile of books that are old friends at this point. Off the top of my head? 

Carry On and Wayward Son, obviously!

The Prydain Chronicles

The Blue Sword (and a lot of other Robin McKinley books)

Possession

Kushiel’s Dart

Tigana

Clockwork Angel

The Aubrey and Maturin books

The King Must Die

Daughter of Smoke and Bone

In Other Lands

I could go on...and on...

For fanfic: I’m new to the CO fandom and I’m still working my way through...well, pretty much everything! It’s a joy to read all of this for the first time. 

It’s way too hard to pick one favorite, but I have a special place in my heart for @vkelleyart‘s Light a Match Inside Your Heart, which is the first fic I ever read and pretty much the direct reason I’m here now.  

6) Favorite Trope?

Slow burn? Does that count? I have a soft spot for “romantic leads trapped in a conveniently private cave in the middle of a dangerous adventure.” Also time travel...I have grave doubts about being to pull it off myself, but it’s my favorite thing in the world when other people do it well. Looking at you, @sharkmartini. 

7) Are you the kind of person to work on more than one wip?

Three months ago I would have said I’m a strict one-project-at-a-time person, but fandom is already totally ruining that master plan! I have 2 Snowbaz WIPs plus my (sadly neglected) novel, and another fic poking around the edges of my brain. Two months ago I was worried that I would never have fic ideas. Whoops. 

I usually only actively write one thing at a time, though, partially because I don’t have time to do more, partially because I like to immerse myself in one story at a time, and partially because if I jump around too much I never finish anything (ask me how I know!). I usually only read one book at a time, too. 

8) How long have you been writing?

I’ve wanted to be a novelist for almost as long as I can remember. I wrote novels all through middle and high school, including an epic work called “Battle Maiden,” which I still have and which included the immortal line, “Why didst thou not tell me it was thy first time?” 

I’ve been working on my current novel off and on for almost 20 years (work, parenting and the rest of real life keeps getting in the way, but I love the story and characters). I’m on my third discrete draft and have high hopes for this one. I’ve been in the same writer’s group for years (which, fun fact, now includes two published novelists) and I’ve done something like 10 NaNoWriMos, mostly drafts of my novel but some other stuff for fun. Oh, and I write poetry in fits and bursts, but I almost never show it to anyone. 

I don’t think fanfiction existed when I was in school (the Web wasn’t a Thing until I was in college), but I wish it had. I’m pretty sure I would have gone deep. 

9) Do you tend to write more in the morning, afternoon, or evening?

Morning! I like to get up at 5am before anyone else is up and write over way too many cups of coffee. But with two young kids I’m trying to learn to snatch writing time where i can. 

10) Do you prefer to post and update your wip chapter by chapter or wait until it’s 100% complete before sharing it?

In theory, there are a lot of advantages to writing the whole thing first. In practice, I need the validation of posting as I go. I have my eternal novel for writing long internally consistent things that no one ever sees! I had a bad experience in a writing class in college and went for almost 20 years without showing anything to anyone, so I’m trying to unlearn that. Fandom is a way for me to practice sharing with other writers and artists. I’m so happy to have found you all! 

I’m so late to this that I feel like everyone has been tagged already. Trying to think of whose I haven’t seen yet. @sharkmartini? @krisrix? @warriorbeeofthesea? @knitbelove? 

[ghostplantss]

Brickclub 1.1.1 - 2 + Introduction

Hello! I’m Alice she/her/hers, trying to catch up to brick club, not the sharpest pencil in the drawer, knows near nothing, so this’ll be something of a miscellaneous collection of rambles just for myself and hopefully it’ll work out!

1.1.1

M. Myriel! I adore you and I’ve missed you terribly

Footnotes and app “common knowledge” say that the inspiration for M. Myriel is de Miollis, bishop of Digne from 1806 to 1838, emigrated to Rome during the revolution, anti-napoleon, bought back church land confiscated by the frev.

Mgr Myriel dans les miserables

According to this article, which I cannot understand since it is in French, jvj was based on pierre Morin, released after 5 years in prison for stealing bread for his sister’s starving family, couldn’t find a job or shelter, was taken in by the aforementioned bishop and died in the battle of Waterloo - does this have anything to do w the pontmercy? 

de miollis was born 19 june, 1753 instead of? 1815 - 75 = 1740? I couldn’t find anything remotely interesting that happened in 1740 except marquis de sade’s birth and hopefully that was an unfortunate coincidence. 

he had 15 siblings, 7 of whom died young, 4 brothers, 4 sisters. of whom one brother took on the family business of conseiller, two (i think) were generals under napoleon - family dinners must’ve been difficult - and the last was a prefect. Hugo says Myriel had 2 brothers, a prefect and a general, which is close enough. de Moillis does not have a sister baptistine, but he does have a sister named anne magdeleine de moillis, married to a marquis, with a servant named genevieve. the article says perhaps hugo thought the name genevieve too noble for a servant, which i find silly bc magloire’s a perfectly lovely name. so i went in looking for his relationship with baptistine and felt terribly cheated to realize hugo had fabricated the sister almost entirely which i suppose is fair.

I think the article says that de Moillis was given the position bc his brother was a general under napoleon. and that the hospital thing fabricated as well but! i’m sloth and articles are so entirely dull. 

A 17th century precursor to Mgr Myriel

This article posits that the creation M. Myriel was influenced by Lancelot’s 17th century novel relation d'un voyage d'aleth which sounds terribly interesting and i must look into it aaaand i’m terribly off topic

SO ANYHOW: 

Myriel emigrated to Italy just as the revolution began and when Napoleon left Italy for France, one by fortune and the other by choice. And he said he was a good man while Napoleon was a great man - I promised myself I’d get throw the next book to call Napoleon a great man at the wall, but alas, I’m reading this digitally - so they’re somewhat opposites! 

Myriel was in an arranged marriage and indulged in affairs, which his later parishioners v consciously forgot, which? I suppose? Shows his love for them is more unconditional than theirs for him? And could? Well? Parallel how ppl were so reluctant to look into the past of Madeleine and how easily they forsook poor jvj as soon as the v ancient news reemerged

Young myriel sounds like such a riot! A bit like? Courfeyrac aka the nicer tholomyès aw imagine if he were cosette’s father instead? I’m sure he wouldn’t abandon her Oh no I’m off topic but I suppose Hugo here’s either saying? Affairs aren’t virtuous and so ppl are capable of change - which would be hypocritical of him - or affairs are ok as long as you take responsibility and such which? i suppose I can get behind. Of course, with the ease of getting divorces nowadays, hopefully people wouldn’t stay in loveless arranged marriages. I remember, when I first read the book, being rather discomfited by the way Myriel seems to ignore how his actions affect women who depend on him? Such as the voluntary scarcity he not only devoted himself to but also foisted upon his sister and sweet Magloire. And? now the way he cheated on his wife, who probably wished no part in this relationship either, but has less freedom than he does in this marriage but ah now I’m terribly off topic and bumming myself out.

I wish there were more said on the 30 years they were married, on their exile to italy, i want to know it all! “Nobody knows” says the omniscient narrator oh come on Hugo spill the beans on myriel! I am the brainless gossiping mob tell me everything

I love magloire and baptistine’s descriptions I love them both! Hugo says a lady needs to be a mother to be venerable but i think that’s just you Hugo you have this odd thing for feral saintly mothers and who can blame you. Mlle. baps is an aspiration! mme. Magloire too! She’s so hard working despite being ill, and it just isn’t right she should be the only one to be so busy when she has asthma

I know I shouldn’t ship them but reason escapes me

1740: born

1758- 1760: 18-20 arranged marriage

1790ish: 50ish emigrated to Italy - wife died of? consumption?

1806: 66 become bishop

1815: 75 current

Cool quotes:

“La révolution survint, les événements se précipitèrent, les familles parlementaires décimées, chassées, traquées, se dispersèrent.” - it flows so nicely!

“M. Myriel devait subir le sort de tout nouveau venu dans une petite ville où il y a beaucoup de bouches qui parlent et fort peu de têtes qui pensent.” - such a burn and this is me! little brain and much tongue

on Mme. Baps: “et cette diaphanéité laissait voir l'ange… Sa personne semblait faite d'ombre … un peu de matière contenant une lueur ; de grands yeux toujours baissés ; un prétexte pour qu'une âme reste sur la terre.” aaa i adore this so much! to imagine her angelic, respectable, and made of shadows! 

1.1.2

Onto chapter 2! So um I know this is terribly off topic, but nap the bonbon said that an archbishop would have a stipend of 15000 francs while a bishop would be given 10000 francs, and this book published after les mis still cited the same numbers as well so it’s odd that Myriel has an annual stipend of 15000 francs? AHHh also! bonbon said that rectors - one class of them at least - would be paid 1500 francs annually, and i’m not entirely sure, but isn’t a curé a rector? as hugo said, myriel never really took more money than he needed. BUT he allocated 1000 francs instead of 1500 for his personal stipend and so I’m! very! confused! i feel like i’m v earnestly explaining how a triangle has four sides. i swear i’ll move on.  

(adding on oh god i just realized?? baps gets 500 a year? i really hope myriel isn’t counting her pension as part of his own personal expenses... though itt does say that “Avec ces quinze cents francs, ces deux vieilles femmes et ce vieillard vivaient.” but that would be rather despicable)

I love the part where he converts the palace to a hospital! hugo started off by describing the extravagance and grandeur of it all, and then juxtaposing it to? the hospital and myriel’s decision to swap houses and there’s something terribly satisfying about the layout. just. how it ends with “Il y a erreur, je vous dis. Vous avez mon logis, et j'ai le vôtre. Rendez-moi ma maison. C'est ici chez vous.” it all wraps so nicely!

The book reiterates how Myriel’s family was ruined by the frev - to what extent, for both of his brothers are employed by the napoleonic government. To that end, it almost appears as a sort of denouncement of violent social change. However, that isn’t quite what myriel believes, it seems, at least according to his budget? since he allocates more to the People as opposed to family, so i’m very confused. Perhaps Hugo is saying that the sacrifices of a few good men who benefit from an unjust system is necessary. 

Myriel took the transportation fee! it was hilarious. of course, i do have mixed feelings because M. Préameneau was right, it’s ridiculous for someone in such a small parish to apply for a carriage fee, which was at least partially why Myriel ultimately chose the donkey. and i’m supposing this most likely sets a terrible precedent for the next bishop of digne who might not have similar philanthropist sentiments. so Hugo’s saying we’re allowed to take advantage of a broken system as long as our own ends are good? how machiavellian! and the buildup was hilarious even if we all knew myriel would never pocket the money himself. poor Mme. Magloire though, it sounded like the household really could have used the money. I think the way she said? that he began by being kind with other people, and now he will end with us? it’s almost rather tragic. that he should’ve neglected the feelings of the people closest to him. 

Hugo seems to have? Baps represent the spirit and Magloire the body, or at least more worldly worries, which seems rather classist of him . I suppose it might be a necessary evil of liking symbols so much - you inevitably fall into stereotypes - and i do love them both, but it makes me uncomfortable. 

Posts from other ppl I want to keep: 

pilf: 

- “il y a toujours encore plus de misère en bas que de fraternité en haut, tout était donné, pour ainsi dire, avant d'être reçu” + charity

- that baps “venerates” her brother, and that he lists all their monetary needs as his own personal expenses, despite the fact that they are the ones managing the household and the money and that they are living off the money same as him, and?? baps only gets 500 yearly, half of what her brother considers a meagre sum

- and aaaa i love how pilf said that it isn’t an admirable move to force those around you to live according to your own morals. just. yes. baps and magloire don’t esp have a choice. and?? magloire and baps really did carry the brunt of the burden. Myriel was able to stay afloat “grâce à la sévère économie de madame Magloire et à l'intelligente administration de mademoiselle Baptistine.” 

akallabeth: 

- how the specificness of the itemized list shows intent and research into the most underserved individuals + causes in his parish: 1. soup for hospital 2. debtors w families

- “And he calls the almsgiving his household expenses. The young man asked Jesus, “Who is my neighbor?” The bishop responds, “The poor are my family.”” (i couldn’t find this quote! but it is amazing!)

- pfff his swanky, company-provided house. i love it

- 15000 francs approx 3 mil usd or 58 workers’ annual wages, which means?? bap’s pension is worth? two adult male workers’ wages? wow

- Myriel uses vous for Magloire

[reading-while-queer]

Amnesty, Lara Elena Donnelly

Rating: Great Read Genre: Fantasy, Romance, Spy Thriller Representation: -Gay protagonist -Bi protagonist -Black protagonist -Disabled and disfigured protagonists Note: Amnesty features minimal (but present) explicit sex. This novel is NOT YA. Trigger warnings: torture, graphic injury, injury by fire, addiction, alcoholism, state violence/corruption, bombing/explosion, death

If you have not read Amberlough and Armistice, you may wish to skip this review!

Amnesty is the third and final book in the Amberlough Dossier, and with its completion I can say with confidence that this is my favorite LGBTQ series - maybe even my favorite series, period. Amnesty had me checking my calendar for months in advance of its release.  Donnelly has remarkable skill with suspense, skill which she puts to phenomenal use in the spy thriller genre, and which will make readers just now picking up the first book in the series glad that all three of them are now available.

That is the key to why Amnesty (and the previous books in the series) work: Donnelly makes you wait.  These books demand patience from the reader, and it makes the pay-off that much sweeter.  However, this is not your typical slow burn romance, only because the burn is not slow - the fire is roaring in the hearth!  Only, one of the main characters is standing outside in the snow because he is too proud to be warm, while the other is in a neighboring country.  Every time Donnelly adds another log to the fire, and you expect the romance to finally pay off, you realize, damn it all, that Cyril and Aristide are still outside in the blizzard.

Donnelly makes you wait on the romance, but that is only one of Amnesty’s moving parts.  Amnesty is not by any means a book where nothing happens for 300 pages - it’s a balancing act where the romance is drawn out slow, but the thriller-style plot keeps you frantically turning pages.  Still, Amnesty is something of an outlier of a thriller.  The core problem of the story is an open-ended question: how do you rebuild your life after you have lost everything?  The city of Amberlough has just experienced the rise and fall of a fascist regime; the country at large has not even elected a new government yet.  Our main characters are war-scarred, broke, and newly arrived back home only to find their old life is no longer there to receive them.  What do they do when one of their rank is lauded as a war hero while the another is reviled by his country as a traitor?  Not exactly typical thriller fare.  Yet Donnelly’s strongest suit is tension and suspense, so despite the lack of a heist, kidnapping, or assassination attempt, Amnesty still reads like a thriller.  The stakes are high on a very personal level, and we readers have dashed our way through the heists and hijinks with these characters for long enough in Amberlough and Armistice that the rather more subdued plot of Amnesty is not unwelcome.  The reader interest in knowing the characters come out of things okay carries some weight for the plot - but I doubt you’ll mind.  After all, you will be too preoccupied with whether the characters come out okay.

Donnelly’s world-building continues to dazzle in Amnesty, as well.  One of my favorite things about her work is that she does not coddle her reader.  You are given exactly as much information as you need, exactly as many reminders, and no more.  And because the world is so rich, and the reminders so sparing, the reader’s immersion in Donnelly’s world is nearly flawless.  With every book, Donnelly gives us a little bit more context, meaning that the reader absorbs information more like a child absorbing the world naturally than like a student committing things to memory.  It helps that Donnelly uses real-world touchstones that allow her readers to fill in the gaps, touchstones which also explicitly create room for people of color to take a starring role.  I’ve spoken about how well Donnelly uses Porachis as an analog for South/SE Asia in Armistice, and in Amnesty, she only continues to fill in the gaps on her globe.  

In this book, we learn more about the countries of Liso, Asu, and Niori.  Asu and Niori are both east Asian countries, partial analogs to China and Japan, while Liso appears to be linguistically tied to southern Africa, with minor character names like Achela Aowamma taking inspiration from Sesotho, though Jamila Osogurundi’s name may be a composite of Oso (Nigerian surname/prefix) + Gurundi (Nigerian snack).  There is no one-to-one comparison to be made.  Just as Gedda isn’t quite the Netherlands, neither are Porachis, Asu, Niori, and Liso exact analogs.  Donnelly’s writing choices here are fascinating - she gives just enough of an analog in order to create diversity of ethnicity that real-world readers will be able to understand and appreciate, while still changing enough to make her world an original, non-derivative fantasy.  It is a delicate line to walk, and Donnelly does so with grace.  I strongly recommend the whole series as a tool of study for aspiring writers, even if the genre isn’t your usual cup of tea, because it really is that good.

The globe isn’t just flavor, either.  One of the main themes of Amnesty is how one reconciles living an international life.  Lillian and Jinadh continue to play a role as main characters after Armistice.  Their arc in Amnesty, however, is about reckoning not only with the fallout from the ousted OSP regime, but the personal struggles of being displaced.  Jinadh is a Porachin prince, while Lillian is Geddan.  They cannot be married for political reasons in Porachis, but Lillian has the advantage of language and culture back home in Gedda, which is a source of marital strife for them.  Yet what choice do they have?  Is it better to live in a country where neither know the language, like Asu, or to allow Lillian the gift of her homeland, no matter how ‘unfair’? It is questions like these that build Amnesty into a story so real it is almost tangible.

Amnesty - the whole series, in fact - is a rough read.  Donnelly pulls no punches in her treatment of war and fascism, though it is important to note that her interest lies on the boundaries of war - the social consequences - not the thick of the fighting.  In Amberlough, Donnelly first questions how fascist regimes rise to power.  In the sequel, she asks how a fascist takeover unsettles the countries around it - to the point that refugees from fascism cannot count on their safety even far from home.  Finally, the last book in the series asks about the aftermath; how is history written around fascism?  How do nationally-held emotions become more sacred than law, and to what end?  And, on the smaller scale, can one recover a self that you once were, before great trauma?  Can you pick up where you left off?

If you, like me, read Amberlough and Armistice, I highly recommend picking up where you left off with Amnesty.  A rough read it may be, but one that fully rewards its reader’s patience.

For more from Lara Elena Donnelly, visit her website here.

[squiddybeifong]

Trek to Themyscira, Ch. 4

On A03 here!

--

“No.”

Raven paid no mind to the way Constantine sipped at his flask, the botanist obviously amused despite his serious countenance at the scene unfolding. He kept an eye on Zatanna, still rummaging around the rotting outsides of the cabin, and went about poking at some of the plants that graced the ground. He flipped through his almanac (and let out a sigh of relief at the more recognizable species that presented themselves on this island) as the zoologist perched her hands on her hips. “Victor,” She tried to appeal to him, but his denial immediately carried over her voice, “Absolutely not!”

They glared at each other, neither willing to back down. A harsh laugh shot out of him and he ran a hand over his face at the determination on her face, “Have you gone mad, Raven? I wouldn’t even leave the best half of the guards alone, and yet you--”

“Are more than capable enough of surviving until the rest of the expedition returns.”

An incredulous, protective, astounded snort rumbled out of him. “And just how will you survive? The water--”

“Is fresh and the ship has spare pans we’ll keep for boiling if needed.”

“And for food?” Both his brows jumped, mocking and scrutinizing as he desperately tried to change her mind, “There’s no guarantee that rations will keep long enough even if we agreed to this unbelievably idiotic plan.”

“I have my crochet hooks and enough twine to build a dozen rafts. I’ll fix up a net and fish off the rocks.” Pink lips curled into a wry line, “And if all else fails Constantine will lend me one of his farmer’s almanacs for any and all known Mediterranean flora. We won’t stray from it.”  

Victor rolled his jaw. He knew that Raven saw the widening cracks of acceptance that were starting to show in his eyes and surged on with the most pressing of all matters, “And if these primates attack? If they’re as big as you presume they are, what then?”

Pale fingers twitched and Raven swallowed the air in her throat at the near crack in his voice. Even after all this time, he was still so protective, just as an older brother should be. She slowly blinked once, taking a breath so as to inspire his confidence even more, “Jason taught me how to shoot a gun.”

Gray eyes flicked to the ship with her words. Victor’s lips tightened and she straightened her back, not-quite-glowering at him as she put her foot down (metaphorically, of course. Small stature or not she wasn’t a child anymore), “Vic, you know I could do this on my own. Take the fact that Zatanna will be accompanying me as the extra reassurance that it is.”

A sigh heaved out of him but his shoulders were loose, “This is a horrible idea.”

“We’ll save an extra month’s worth of supplies if you head back to Themyscira today and then immediately to Gotham. Think of it, Vic,” Her hands grabbed one of his, squeezing hopefully. “A decade from now we could be musing about this very argument over whiskey as we calm down from our honors at one of Mr. Wayne’s galas.”

Waving off the pointed look he sent her, the zoologist added to her dreamy scene, “And I’d remind you that I was unharmed during the entirety of your absence. In fact, I’ll even showcase our mementos from our research to celebrate afterwards. Perhaps one of the many treasures Zatanna and I will certainly find after we see you boys off, hmm? I’ll write of it and let you read my journal as soon as you return.”

Victor shook his head at her calmness and repeated his claim, “This is a horrible idea.”

A brow raised over gray eyes, “But you know that it’s one that must be done?”

“It doesn’t have to be done,” Victor drawled as he leaned down and wrapped her in a hug. Raven immediately returned the embrace, letting out a little squeak of surprise and snickering against his shoulder as he lifted her in the air. His nose pressed to her temple, “But I know that if anyone could it would be you.”

He squeezed her tighter, not wanting to let go, “Promise me you won’t die.”

Raven leaned back to take stock of the abundance of emotions plain on his face. She patted his cheek, “If a pack of grizzlies can’t get me, nothing can.”

Victor scoffed and she smiled, “I have a few Wilde novels in my quarters. Every sunrise that passes I’ll carve a page’s quote and the date into that tree.” Brown eyes flicked to the gnarled trunk that she pointed to, “I won’t miss a single day.”

“So when we return I’ll know just how quickly you perished?”

“So you’ll know that I didn’t stop waiting on these shores. You’ll see them and we’ll meet back up on this very beach when you return.” She smiled up at him, knowing better than to try to butter him up for her next idea, “And yes, while we may use the lifeboat to travel to and back from Themyscira--” A pale finger raised before he could argue, “I’ll leave the date we left and returned as well. Have the sailors leave a flag where they left and I’ll leave quotes there too.”

Chocolate brown eyes were an odd mix of distraught and amused, “Your dress will weigh you down. Drowning leaves me with nothing to mourn.”

“God Almighty you’re pessimistic about this.” He fully put her down and Raven crossed her arms, her face soft despite her sigh, “I see why, but you should also be encouraged. This is the discovery of a lifetime, Victor. And it’s right at our fingertips.”

Despite his worries a tiny smile curled his lips. Victor kissed her forehead, “You must’ve gone mad years ago. I’m not even surprised you’re about to do this.”

Gray eyes were warm as she put her hands on her hips, “Of course. Now go back with Constantine, pack up all the specimens collected so far and convince Mr. Wayne that my sanity is just as certain as my competency.”

The engineer let out a laugh, “His children love you. His assumption on your stability is already solidified.”

“As it should be,” They chuckled together and he kissed her temple. He sighed against her hairline, “Please stay safe and in one piece, Rae. You’re the only sister I have.”

Raven beamed up at him, “Then you best hurry back, Vic. You’re the only brother of mine.”

--

Zatanna carefully hunched over as she reread her recordings on everything they found in the cabin so far, her shoulders sore after how furiously they had waved goodbye to the rest of the expedition. She glanced to the side where Raven sat, a fond flutter to her heart at how well they had worked together so far. The girl’s self-assurance meshed well with her own overconfidence, and they both played off each other’s eagerness as more and more pieces of who had called the hut home opened up to them.

Raven was hunched over what appeared to be a child’s storybook, scribbling notes about the species and details of animals depicted, as well as how they were being used. Zatanna watched her for another moment, her eyes moving to the walls behind her. Half-rotted and partially burnt, she could tell (as she had with the rest of what the cabin’s contents hinted) that the Amazons had held a great deal of respect for family.

No one had been left out and people came and went. This must have been a nursery of some sort, if the carvings and flaky paint was any indication. Such a nursery was probably retrofitted to make a hub after the hurricanes hit and they fled.

Zatanna’s lips curled down and she shook her head at her own assumption. Sure, their own expedition had been able to sail around and traverse the tiny plot of Themyscira that they had landed on, but that didn’t mean no Amazons survived within the valley.

“Not sure if they ever came back here, but they almost certainly returned home after the storms,” Raven murmured.

Gray eyes flicked up and Zatanna briefly wondered if the girl could read her mind. A smile slid onto the younger’s face at the confusion on the older’s, her words coming out in a chuckle, “You whisper when you ponder possibilities. I don’t mind, but just let me know if you’d like me to add on to your brainstorm.” Her smile faltered, breaking a bit as she casually added, “I don’t know much about engineering or inventing or even anthropology, but it seems to help Victor when we study together.”

The anthropologist let out a quiet hum at her words, not responding beyond that. Her sapphire gaze went to the obvious evidence of a framework of action, the map and copy of the moon’s patterns far too complicated for young children.

“Surely there must be other cabins around this island, maybe even on the other ones that we passed earlier. This one is too…” Zatanna’s words trailed off as she tried to pinpoint why she felt so much resistance to the idea of this nursery being as old as the hurricanes. A soft wind brushed up from the ocean, knocking a crumble of wood-rot onto the ground. Sapphire eyes widened and the anthropologist looked around the room again, “It’s modern.”

She leaned back against the wall, peeking out past the windows to the clear water and soft sand that seemed to extend forever, stopped only by the lingering fog, “We’re not a stone’s throw away from the ocean, Raven. This place isn’t protected by the trees or leaves, the climate is humid enough, and with the yearlong fog--”

“Wood wouldn’t last too long, especially without being properly lacquered,” Raven continued her companion’s thought, gray eyes flicking up to the blackened marks. A sigh escaped, “Perhaps if there are still Amazons back in the valley, then they come to this island to teach the youngest about the life skills they need.”

Zatanna fought back a smile, “I haven’t been in grade school in years, almost decades, Raven.”

The girl snickered, her shoulders shaking as she reclined against the wall. Careful to not topple through, she sighed out, “You’re the anthropologist but I have some more ideas on their lives, but there’s not much to tell until we start to explore some more.”

“Let me hear them.”

Raven met the older woman’s gaze, her face going thoughtful as she blurted out, “Perhaps we’ll see if there’s any sign of more buildings. If the Amazons knew that only they knew about these islands, there’s no need to hide where they dock, right?”

At Zatanna’s nod, she continued, confident in her logic, “Then that means we can circle the island first, see if we find any evidence of them going back and forth. If anything’s here, we’ll stay and record. If there’s nothing, we finish recording the cabin and head to Themyscira.”

Zatanna pursed her lips, “You still think some are alive?”

“I do,” Her jaw rolled. “If they lasted long enough to be able to make a cabin so recently, they’re bound to still be around.” Gray eyes went to the window as another soft wind creaked the old wood. She remorsefully patted her notes once and stood, stretching onto her toes as the blood began circulating in her legs again. “We should reinforce everything before it gets too dark,” Raven suggested.

“You’ve recorded everything around the windows already?” At Raven’s nod, Zatanna stood and went to the supplies the captain had roped together for them.

After a few hours, the sun started to set. It painted the clouds like melting sherbert, both pastel and dull colors mingling in the sky. Raven sighed as she watched the sunset, wondering if the sunrises here held a candle to the ones in Gotham.

She licked her lips as her stomach rumbled. “Zatanna?” The zoologist called over her shoulder, “Do you want to do half- or quarter- rounds tonight?”

The older woman poked her head out of the door, “Half is better. You want first watch?”

--

Themyscira, lost to time that it was, practically buzzed with excitement under the moon’s light. Had she not been on watch Raven would’ve closed her eyes and meditated to the sounds that surrounded her. Bugs that she’d yet to record scuttled over the cabin’s top, birds she’d yet to sketch flapped their wings and cawed out as they snatched crabs from the surf, tiny creatures she’d yet to determine any link to the Amazons snored high off the ground.

Pale fingers drummed over her thigh as she took stock of everything around her; Zatanna was curled asleep in a ball near the mass of candles they had lit, the dozen pistols and three cases of ammo were not a hand’s length away from where she sat, the boarded windows were studded with nails but still shone flickers of light through the cracks. She stretched her legs as she kept watch, the music of the night-time keeping her awake.

Her head raised as the boards creaked outside.

Raven stretched to put a hand over Zatanna’s mouth, her narrowed eyes trained on the window. Pale fingers pressed down on the older woman’s lips as she jerked awake, the biologist not taking her attention away from the hand that was batting at a weak spot in the window’s boards. A piece of her heart hoped it was an Amazon, a human, someone she could reason with; a bigger piece of her brain screamed at her that it could be a primate, an animal, something she'd have to scare off.

Silently letting a slow breath out of her lungs, Raven grabbed one of the pistols the guards had left with them. She moved in front of Zatanna, remembering Jason’s words on staying steady and moving her palm to muffle the sound of the safety's click-click! as she got into position. She aimed at the window, her finger hovering over the trigger as the hand receded into the shadows.

A sliver of a woman’s face took its place.

Raven stared into the bright blue eyes for an impossibly long second. In the dim candlelight the pupils visibly dilated and the woman jerked out of sight. All was quiet as they heard her take a heavy step back. A shiver ran through the zoologist but she kept her hands up, desperately trying to hear what was going on outside past the sound of Zatanna’s terrified breathing.

Both let out a shriek as a fist suddenly punched through the boards, shattering the planks as if they were twigs. Zatanna hugged her from behind, her nails digging into the girl’s clothes as the fist unfurled and its twin started to help pry open an entrance.

Raven pulled the trigger.

The flash of the muzzle blinded her and the scream of the woman and her tumble down the cabin’s rotting steps filled her ears. Another scream, this one from behind her as Zatanna’s boots scuffed the wood, dragging against the floor as she scrambled to grab one of the pots.

There was a terrifying pause as another set of footsteps thudded outside the cabin. Then there was a shift of movement, a grunt, and the sounds of two feet jogging away.

Silence filled the air, ringing loud in their ears. Even the bugs had paused in all their movements, waiting for the wind to return.

Another pause, then the noise of the island came back as the waves crashed on the beach. Raven’s hands trembled as she wiped at her eyes, slowly resting on her haunches as Zatanna’s foot nudged the candles closer to the door. The two sat back to back for the rest of the night, a gun aimed for another intrusion and a tightly gripped pot ready to smash any fingers that dared try to sneak in.

--

Once the adrenaline of the encounter faded, the night seemed to speed by and didn’t falter until the early morning slowed to a crawl, the seconds strolling along with the pastel clouds.

It wasn’t until the birds started cawing that the scholars worked up the courage to peek outside. Zatanna sighed as she looked at the browning puddle of blood, softly touching the young woman’s shoulder as Raven blinked. Unsure whether or not the sight was a good thing, she tried to keep the already heavy air light, “Well, looks like you must have just grazed them.”

“Her.”

Zatanna took a step out onto the wood, her stomach knotted in an odd mix of fear and wonder, “You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.”

Humming, she stepped fully out into the open air. Cautious and curious at the lack of footsteps, Zatanna wondered how the footsteps completely disappeared as soon as they reached the treelines. “You know,” The anthropologist slowly looked around, thinly smiling at the back of Raven’s head as the girl kept a sharp eye on the forestline, “Apparently Themyscira was populated only by women.”

A tiny smile curled pink lips, “I get the feeling that we’d certainly get along well with them.”

Raven chuckled at her comment, her steps steady as they took stock of everything around them. After nearly an hour, when the clouds were back to their normal while and the coast seemed clear, Raven made her way to that gnarled trunk.

She kissed her thumb, took out her knife and set about carving her first quote, the most obvious choice being one that she knew by heart:

“You will always be fond of me. I represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit.”  -R. June 12th, 1902

A not-quite smile tersely came to her face and she debated whether or not to journal all the insanity that had happened just yet. She felt as Zatanna crouched next to her and hummed out, “Victor was always keen about this one.”

Zatanna let out a chuckle, “I can see why.”

She glanced around, squinting as she tried to place anything out of sorts with the trees. Nothing, of course. She nudged Raven’s shoulder, glad that their less stuffy clothes afforded them some refuge from the island’s humidity, “Care to go look around? See if we can spot anything.”

Raven slowly nodded, her hand going to the pistol on her hip. She ran a tongue over her teeth and glanced at the sky, not as cloudy as the previous day, “The light’ll keep us safe.”

Armed with only a gun, a pen, and a notebook, the two took off in a steady walk. They didn’t stray from the water’s edge as they started east. The sand was soft under their boots and the wind was light; conversation was only the murmurs that Zatanna inadvertently spoke as she scribbled her observations down and Raven pointing out something that caught her attention..

As the arc of their route obscured the cabin from view another howl rattled the air, this one distinctly ape-like and echoing from what must have been the other side of the island. Raven didn’t aim her gun but she did snap her face towards the rustle in the trees, a gasp filling her lungs and her shoulders going tense at the sight of four eyes peeking out from the leaves.

Zatanna’s hand went to her shoulders, the older woman freezing in shock at the sight of two tall, muscular women gaping at them from the tree branches.

Bare with only a skirt around her hips, the smaller of the two had a bloodied pelt wrapped around her bicep. Both had long, wild hair and similar features, adorned with scars all over every inch of them. The scholars would’ve blushed at their near-nudity, but time seemed to freeze as the four stared at each other for a long moment, not knowing how to react.

Obviously sisters, the two women --Raven and Zatanna both knew they were Amazons, no doubt about the fact-- exchanged a look. The taller one raised her chin as the presumably younger one jumped from branch to branch, swinging away into the shroud of the forest. Her broad shoulders squared and cerulean eyes narrowed at them. Getting the distinct feeling she was the problem, Raven moved the gun behind her back.

The Amazon’s head tilted and she turned her bare back to them, quietly escaping the way her sister had.

There was a silence as Raven’s knees threatened to buckle as her flush flooded her face; Zatanna let out a trembling sigh and covered her face in her hands. Whether or not the Amazons thought they were sisters as well, neither scholar knew; what they did know was that they couldn’t have their breakdowns here. Raven cleared her throat, awkward and numb with a plethora of emotions. She didn’t know if she were more entranced with the discovery or their beauty (or even if her stasis was due to her absolute horror at the fact that she had shot the very one who stole her breath away twice in a half day’s span). Shaking her head, the zoologist murmured, “We should go back.”

Zatanna nodded and grabbed her arm again, obviously too consumed in her own mile-a-minute thoughts to even attempt to speak.

The cabin wasn’t very far. They both immediately went about fixing breakfast rather than try to conceptualize the thoughts they mused about. For nearly a quarter hour the two ate in silence as the tea’s water started to boil and the kettle sang out. Raven bit the inside of her cheek as she prepared two cups, the words slipping out fast, "Do you know how to speak Greek?"

Zatanna put down her pear and sighed, "I hate that you're asking me this."

She leaned her head back and they gazed at each other for a long minute. The older woman pinched between her eyes, “We know they’re real. Please don’t say what I know you’re going to say.”

Raven’s tongue darted out to wet her lips. Zatanna groaned at the look on her face and the girl dropped a sugar cube into each cup, "We should go meet them."

"You're absolutely mad."

The zoologist’s hands were shaking as she handed Zatanna her cup, gray eyes bright and worried and delighted, "Now you sound like Victor."

Zatanna took the tea, sipping slowly as the young woman sat down next to her. She shook her head at the anticipation on Raven’s face, a snort escaping her, "How haven't you been killed in the field yet?"

"The bears were too slow."

Zatanna paused at that answer, her brows furrowing before she decided to simply take it at face value. She clicked her tongue, moving to the most pressing matter of dissuading the god-awful thoughts that Raven seemed to be leaning towards, “This is a horrible idea.”

Gray eyes rolled even as a grin split the zoologist’s lips, “If I wanted to hear Victor’s complaints the whole time I wouldn’t have invited you.”

Sapphire eyes shut. Did she dare voice the worried that were obviously on both their minds so soon? Neither ever hesitated with making their opinions know (especially to each other), but this was uncharted territory, geographically and academically. Her lips slid into a line at the thought of the Amazons, the apples of her cheeks darkening at the thought of the taller woman and her threatening, all too attractive glare.

Letting a fast breath out, the anthropologist commanded, “We’ll journal everything down first.” Zatanna’s gaze flicked around the room, “I’ll check that we’ve recorded all that we could with the cabin, but I want Constantine to know how we’re about to die and by whose hands.”

Raven stood to do as she said, the pen cold in her fingers as she drawled, “Do you know what a ‘pessimist’ is, Zatara?”

The anthropologist raised a brow. A humorless laugh escaped her, “Someone who believes the worst will occur?”

“No.” Raven looked up at her, biting the end of her pen as she thought of just how to sketch the two women they had encountered, “'One who, when she has the choice of two evils, chooses both.'”

Sapphire eyes flicked up from her notes, her head tilting to the side at the familiar words, “That’s Wilde, is it not?”

The younger scholar nodded, “It is. However, it’s not nearly as wild as running from bears or running towards Amazons.” She chuckled at her own joke, uncaring as Zatanna leveled a pointed stare her way.

“We’re going to die here,” Zatara deadpanned.

“Maybe so,” Raven shrugged. Her smile grew to a grin, “But what a death it will be.”

Her notes dropped to her lap, showcasing the Amazon’s faces to the room as pale hands lifted, spreading out as if showcasing a painting, “Think of it, Zatanna. We could have our names hanging along the wall with all the other influential scientists. Maybe we’ll even be grouped with the likes of Miss Curie.”

Zatanna scoffed, “She published her paper not a week before we left.”

“But you’ve heard the chatter. Her radium is certainly bound to change the world. And with a discovery like this,” Graphite eyes flicked to the trees through the destroyed hole in the window’s boards, “1902 must be the year of greatness, don’t you think?”

“The year of impulsivity leading to certain death is more like it.” Zatanna crossed her arms, gnawing the inside of her cheek as she thought, “There’s no certainty that we’ll find those Amazons and not the apes that we keep hearing.”

Raven waved her concern aside, “Have faith, Zatanna.”

“Faith in what? God? Adventure?” A snort escaped her, “We’re researchers, Roth. Neither missionaries nor explorers.”

The girl let out a quiet laugh, pushing her glasses up as she started taking all the stray pins out of her hair, “Then be it the faith of advancement!”

She paused to beam at Zatanna, expectant. The older woman sighed, “Of science?”

Raven began pulling her hair up into a braid. A gray eye winked at her, “Now you're getting it.”

Zatanna let out a breath, her face turning to the forest again. They could stay in the cabin, write out everything that had occurred so far and hope that Victor and Constantine would return for them in less than two months. The lifeboat was still tied off if they needed to flee, but there’d be no guarantee of their survival if they left. Sapphire eyes glanced at the sun, not even halfway through it’s trek through the sky; they had at least ten hours of light left, but Zatanna had to restate, “This is a horrible idea.”

She stood as she spoke, her hands on her hips. Her lips pursed as she took stock of everything that they could carry and she glanced over her shoulder at the zoologist, “Make sure you bring an extra pistol. I don’t think a cast iron pot will do us much good out there.”

Raven let out a low chuckle, stretching her back until it popped as she stood, “I thought this was ‘a horrible idea,’ Zatara?”

Her cheekiness got her a half-hearted glare and Zatanna’s hair flip hitting her in the face, “Don’t push your luck, Roth. If anyone’s going to die first it’ll be you.”

[casus-fae]

Shambles

The original Shambles found in Terry Pratchetts Discworld novels is an in-the-moment piece of equipmemt for witches created for specific situations. However, variations inspired by this can be made with long-term specific purposes. It can be used for various purposes, but typically protection; either of family, home, or even dreams. Think of it as a dream catcher without the issues of cultural appropriation, for those without Native American heritage.

An original Shambles would be made of items carried with you, such as loose stones, lolly wrappers, and bits of string in your pocket or bag. In this instance they can also be made using a bunch of loose items floating around your room and house, as well as items which have been carried with you in pockets and bags for a long time without specific purpose. A key element of the Shambles is something living, such as a small jar to house a tiny succulent, a bug, or even something mouldy.

Depending on it's purpose, you could add reflective items such as pieces of discs, mirrors, or glass. To soak up negative energy black items could be used, but may require the occasional cleanse to redirect the energy. Each Shambles is unique for the witch and purpose, so you can be creative with the items used. Usually they would not be considered aesthetically pleasing or pretty, but you can make them attractive to look at if you so choose, but there's nothing wrong with a messy Shambles.

The Shambles can incorporate elements of your typical wind chime or dream catcher, and can be hung by a window indoors or out, or around the house or garden. If you want it to be a partial wind chime, you'll need to hang it somewhere with a breeze. If you are going to keep it outdoors be wary of the materials you use, as it may become damaged and broken, or become litter and pollute the environment if it breaks apart.

Image credit: 2016 Discworld Diary: A Practical Manual for the Modern Witch

[sugaurora]

NaNoWriMo - Can We Be Honest For a Second?

You are only doing NaNo for one of three reasons:

You need to get into a daily writing habit and writing 1666 words a day for a month is a good way of developing that habit.

You need to get a big chunk of writing done in a hurry and 50,000 words in a month ain't a full novel for most genres, but it ain't too shabby either.

Your friends are threatening to steal your fuzzy socks and your chocolate stash if you don't join.

See, the 50,000 words you get when you win NaNoWriMo aren't the prize, they're the byproduct. Winning NaNoWriMo means spending the month of November turning yourself into a better writer. And I want to help you be a winner.

There are pages and pages of writing advice on the internet. You could read books on writing, and nuance, and metaphor. If you're lucky you'll spend your entire life reading great books and learning from other authors, but no amount of learning is going to help you get off the starting block and to writing a book unless you know where to start. So that's what this post is about: how to prep for NaNoWriMo.

Mid-October you need to set aside a day for NaNoWriMo planning. You're going to be doing your research, basic plotting, and some very simple outlining. If you're a Plotter who needs to have all the details written down, fine, add more. If you're a Pantster (like me!) you'll find this method isn't overwhelming and leaves lots of room for improvisation. Once you've got your date set grab something to make notes on and give yourself five hours to work... and yes it's perfectly fine to do this in fifteen-minute increments over the month of October. You're busy, and that's normal. :)

Step 1: Write the elevator pitch for your novel.

Don't get hung up on finding an original plot or the perfect pitch right now. Just pick an idea that tickles your imagination and run with it. The fact that you are writing it will make it unique. Every person is different, and so is every story!

In two sentences or less write what you're going to write your book about. It doesn't need to be perfect, you just need to verbalize it somehow.

If you don't know what to write about look for inspiration in art work, online story prompts, the NaNoWriMo Adopt A Plot forum, or on Tumblr where the Out Of Context D&D people give anyone with a pulse an urge to write fantasy.

Can't decide on just one plot? No problem! Plan them all out. Start writing whichever catches your fancy in November and write the others next year.

Step 2: Use the Dime Novel Formula

This is 100% stolen from the author of the Doc Savage novels Kenneth Robeson (Lester Dent) and he deserves full credit. Partial credit goes to British author Tim Dedopulos who wrote a NaNoWriMo post in 2010 entitled How To Write A Novel In Three Days. We're using a modified version of his method....

Lester Dent said every good novel needed four things:

A new way to kill someone

A new thing for the villain to want

A new place

A menace that threatens your hero at every turn.

Write down your four things.

Step 3: You Need Four Plot Twists

No one likes a book where they can guess the ending on page one. It's boring. Plot twists set in the right place along the course of the book will give your reader a wild ride that keeps them reading long past bedtime. Plan on at least four plot twists.

Plot twist #1 comes in the first quarter of the book. "You're a wizard, Harry." "I found a wardrobe that leads to a kingdom of snow and my brother ate the evil queen's Turkish Delight!" etc. You get the idea.

Plot Twist #2 comes about 40% of the way through the book, this one's the gut punch. The hero loses something, they're betrayed, something horrible happens and at all cost, you must leave the readers thinking there is no way your hero can ever find a happy ending after this. If you're George R. R. R. Martin this is where you kill [spoiler redacted], you soulless fiend.

Plot Twist #3 comes at the climax of the story, when the fate of the universe hangs by a thread, and then suddenly PLOT TWIST! something amazing happens. Harry comes back from the dead. Loki really didn't kill Thor. Mulan shoots Shan Yu with a firework and the Emperor bows to her.

Plot Twist #4... and I know you're scratching your head here... this one comes in the last pages of the book. The villain confesses they did it all for the love of the hero, the hero pulls the sword from the stone and finds out it's plastic, the long-lost princess realizes she rescued the wrong kingdom! This is the very final twist that keeps the book alive after the last page is turned. It may seem diabolic, especially if you're not writing a series, but it lets the reader believe the characters will live on and have more adventures even after the book ends, and that's important.

Step 4: You Need Three Villains

Early in my writing career, I wrote several novels that were great except the pacing and tension seemed almost nonexistent. It wasn't until I wrote a book with a well fleshed out villain that I realized my early novels suffered from a lack of antagonist. Save yourself some tears and define your villains up front.

Who is your Primary Antagonist? This is the villain that shows up one page one and gives our hero grief but who may not be a villain all along. If you're writing an Enemies-To-Lovers romance this antagonist will wind up being a hero in the end.

Who is your Second Antagonist? The Middle Villain is the one who comes in the center of the book (hence the name) and who the hero didn't see as a problem beforehand. Either this antagonist was a friend before and betrayed the hero, or they become a villain because of the hero's actions in achieving the first quest of the book. This antagonist carries a lot of weight and deals the hero the most setbacks. They're the one that drives the hero to the moment of despair and strips them of everything (which is why a betrayer makes such a good second villain). While dealing with the second antagonist the hero stumbles into a realization of who the bigger villain is. If you're writing a series with One Big Villain driving the series (think Kate Daniels series by Ilona Andrews or Star Wars where the Emperor is the Big Bad) you'll have the hero defeat a series of Middle Villains in each book and only face The One Big Bad in the final book. If you're writing a series driven by Hero's Choice this second villain will bounce between being a villain and being a temporary ally (think the Mercy Thompson series by Patricia Briggs or Star Trek where Romulans and Klingons are sometimes enemies and sometimes friends). The other series option is the No Hero series like Game of Thrones where everyone is an antagonist and a protagonist in their own mind.

Who is the Third Antagonist? The Big Bad, the villain whose presence is felt but unknown throughout the book. In a series, you may not see this person until the end of the series. The best part about this kind of antagonist is it invites readers to reread so they can catch the earlier clues. You really can save this villain for the very end, or at least the last 1/3 of the book. They usually appear around the hero's Moment Of Despair, when the hero has lost all hope, friends, support, and belief in themself. This is the villain that defines the hero. Because the hero looks up from the mud and blood and despair and says, "I cannot let you do this. I cannot let you win even if I lose everything." The decision to fight this villain when all hope is lost, at great personal sacrifice, is what makes an ordinary person a hero. And because the hero is coming from such a low point, beaten and fragile, their victory is all the more sweet in the end.

Whew! Got all that? Okay. Good. Take a breather because the next section is there we're going to tackle the nitty gritty. You ready?

Step 5: Building The World

Do you know what derails the most NaNoWriMo novelists? The research. They pause to look up a name, or find a place to set a scene, and then they're lost down the rabbit hole of research and you find them wandering bookstores in mid-January wondering why people are hanging Valentine's Day decorations. It's sad, really. And you, smarty that you are, are going to dodge that bullet by naming everything right now!

Make a list of 25 female names and 25 male names for your book. You can do it by culture or race if you need to, but get it done before November 1st. And, remember, if you hate the name November 15th you can change it in edits. That's why we have the Search-Replace function.

Make a list of all the modes of transport in your book. If you have spaceships or sailing vessels make a list of names for them too. Ten minimum. More is better. Pick a theme if you're having trouble, like naming all the ships in your fleet after minerals: Jasper, Feldspar, Malachite...

Make a list of all the places you might set a scene. Name the cafes, name the fields, name the forests, name the nebulas, name the schools, name the rooms. You may not use them all but they'll be there if you need them.

Make a list of all your props: weapons, clothes, whatever will be on stage goes right here. If it helps, pretend you're planning a play. Picture what you might need. And feel free to add more when you start writing. These lists are guidelines only, you can use them or lose them to your heart's content.

Step 6: The Setting Thesaurus

This is going to take a bit of time, so plan ahead. What you need to do here is follow the excellent example set by Becca and Angela and make a thesaurus for all the scenes.

Honestly, this is more for the Plotters who need to know everything. Pantsters, write five or six key words to describe each place, one for each major sense. If you have more or have something you really want to see in that place, scribble it down.

Bookmark the Emotion Thesaurus and Setting Thesaurus in case of emergencies in November.

Step 7: Time For The Math

NaNoWriMo is meant to be thirty days of steady writing, but let's be realistic, unless you're life is perfect you won't be writing all thirty days. Look at your calendar right now and decide how many days you can write. For me is about 24 days in November. I take weekends off to spend time with my kids and I'll be too busy cooking on Thanksgiving to write.

Grab a calculator. Divide 50,000 by the number of days you have to write. This number is your target word count if you want to have 50,000 words at the end of the month.

50,000 isn't a full novel for adult genres and most YA. If you really want a novel in a month you need to do that math with 75,000 words. I'm sorry.

Curse yourself. Cry. Google WRITE OR DIE. Thank the creators of WRITE OR DIE for all they have done for you. Bookmark WRITE OR DIE. Tell your family and friends you love them, and then go buy some note cards.

Step 8: The Dread Outline

This trick I actually picked up from a fellow Critique Circle writer my first year participating in NANOWRIMO. She said she spent Halloween night handing out candy and writing scenes on a note card. One card per writing day with all the scenes she needed to write.

Let's pretend you have 25 writing days in November and you want 50,000 words. That's 2000 words on each of your writing days, or one scene per day.  

Pick out 25 cards and write one or two sentences describing a scene you want to write on each card.

Put a small sticker or check mark on Plot Twist days and mark the days on your calendar. You'll probably be writing a plot twist on the 7th, 14th, 21st, and 28th of November.

Rearrange, discard, or rewrite anything that doesn't seem to make sense.

REMEMBER! This is only the rough draft. It's meant to be rough. You are aiming to write something ugly. Everything will be smoothed and polished in edits. These cards can be changed at any time, they're really here to be your countdown clock to victory. No panicking allowed.

Step 9: Write Like A Pro

Can I share a teeny tiny little secret with you? There's not an author alive who knows what they're doing. That blank page is just as blank for you as it is for your favorite author. Every person is unique. Every person will write differently and in different ways. There is no wrong way to be an author.

Sit down.

Write.

All the planning you did, that's there for reference. All those lists and names and plot twists were written down so your subconscious could have time to play with the ideas and present you with the scenes when it's time to write. On November 1st all you have to do is show up and write.

If you get stuck, check your notes.

If you go running down a new avenue just make sure to connect with your plot twist.

Never abandon your villains, they're what makes your hero a hero.

Write.

Keep writing.

Don't give up.

Have fun.

Source

[aion-rsa]

The Mysterious Benedict Society: Bringing the Middle Grade Mystery Series to TV

https://ift.tt/3cZFTyo

This article contains spoilers for the first two episodes of The Mysterious Benedict Society plus teasers for future episodes. There are no book spoilers beyond the plots featured in the first two episodes.

The Mysterious Benedict Society is not only Disney+’s latest television series, it’s one of the streamer’s noteworthy original TV projects outside the massive Marvel and Star Wars franchises… But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t have a source material. The series is based on the bestselling middle grade book series by Trenton Lee Stewart. Stewart first published The Mysterious Benedict Society in 2007, which means the original readers are now adults and even parents themselves. (I myself discovered the series while working in summer camp and after school a year or two after publication.) The series was in development hell for over a decade before Phil Hay and Matt Manfredi joined the project in 2017. Den of Geek talked to showrunners Hay and Manfredi, who previously worked on AEon Flux and the Ride Along movie series together, to discuss the behind the scenes of translating this middle grade mystery adventure to the silver streaming screen.    

“We were aware of the book when we were brought them, and read the first one and just fell in love,” Manfredi tells Den of Geek. The most important example of this love comes through in novel series author Stewart signing on as consulting producer on the series. Several other middle grade books from the mid 2000’s, most notably the Percy Jackson movies, were reduced to in-name-only movie adaptations that butchered the essence of the stories, due to authors having no input on the adaptation. 

“We talked to him very early in the adaptation process, got to know him,” Hay says. ”Then as the show went along, he read all the scripts, he saw the cuts…whenever he had an idea, it obviously rang a lot of bells for us… and, it was just very important to us that he be pleased and like it.” 

The series follows Mr. Benedict (Tony Hale), a scientist living in an alternate universe who is very concerned that the world’s increased anxiety, called The Emergency, is not, in fact, the organic result of social politics, but rather is being orchestrated by someone outside the government. There are subliminal messages about The Emergency broadcast across the media and adults have accepted these messages as truth. Kids are naturally more curious and at times confrontational about accepting authority and fate. Although Mr. Benedict has two extremely capable assistants in Rhonda Kazembe (MaameYaa Boafo) and Number 2 (Kristen Schaal); he needs children to infiltrate the educational institute from which the messages about The Emergency  originate. After a series of rigorous tests, he assembles a team of four extremely smart orphans to infiltrate and to find the person responsible. Renard “Reynie” Muldoon (Mystic Inscho) is a master puzzle solver, George “Sticky” Washington (Seth Carr) is a trivia champion, Kate Weatherall (Emmy DeOlivera) is a budding engineer and meteorologist, and Constance Contraire (Marta Kessler) is a social rebel who needs a cause to properly apply her truth-seeking instincts. The mission is going to test not only their skills but also their stamina to resist the subliminal messaging. The title of the series comes from the team name the children give themselves. 

Although the adventure elements are clearly targeted towards today’s preteens, the political undertones of the story are definitely going to be the element that appeals to adults who haven’t read the novel series. “The book feels prescient,” Hay says. “I double-checked the copyright page when I was reading it because it just seemed that the themes were so resonant and relevant to today.” This theme adds depth and immediacy to the children’s mission. Adults will immediately recognize current politics in this alternate universe where the language of The Emergency is the language of misinformation.  

Kids are also affected by the political situation around them and this renders the plot of The Mysterious Benedict Society relatable.  “We have kids thinking of the way they’ve experienced the recent past as a relentless tide of anxiety, and how do we get to the bottom of that and how do we find ways to contend with it?” Hay says. “I think the message of the show in a way, is through getting to the truth and through finding the truth and then also through addressing others with care and with empathy and with kindness, and those things coalesced to be the bedrock of what we think the show is about.” Although some may feel uneasy about a dystopian alternate universe as escapist entertainment especially for children, there is hope and a solution embedded into the mission. The audience naturally roots for Mr. Benedict and his team triumph over evil. 

Bringing the alternate universe of Stonetown and its environs to life from Stewart’s imagination presented several challenges for Hay and Manfredi. Shooting eight, hour-long episodes during the pandemic added considerable complexity to the project. “We had such an incredible team in Vancouver led by Grace Gilroy, our line producer, and the dedication of the cast and crew, which was extraordinary to keep each other safe and healthy and follow the protocols to the T all of which happened,” Hay says. “Every day when you’re shooting in that condition is seen as a gift, and you are just really reliant on everybody, every single member of the cast and crew to be vigilant and they were, and that’s something that is extremely inspiring.”

Another obstacle was reconciling viewers’ imaginations and the illustrations in the novels with the screen. “I imagined [the novel as] a bit more Gothic or Victorian, and partially just because it worked with the themes for us and partially because we thought a lot of other things have explored that visual landscape,” Hay says. “[We] settled on this idea that this could be told in a sixties, European modernist kind of vibe, where things are very organized and formal.”

That mention of other things exploring “a Victorian landscape” is an illusion to Netflix’s series adaptation of A Series of Unfortunate Events. Most adult viewers new to the series will likely make that comparison, since both series revolve around orphans fighting eccentric adult villains in a dystopian alternate universe. However, the first two episodes of The Mysterious Benedict Society make it clear that the main characters are fighting evil on the societal level versus an inheritance fraud conspiracy one. 

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Ironically, Tony Hale directly links the two series. He played Jerome Squalor in A Series of Unfortunate Events, and ended up being the top choice to lead The Mysterious Benedict Society. “We were such fans of Tony, and every role he’s done becomes an iconic thing,” Manfredi says. “He’s just so funny, and he had such a soulfulness to him and intelligence and compassion to him that he just kind of ticked all the boxes.” Hay added, “In the book, the character is reasonably a bit older. It’s more of a practical grandfatherly character than a fatherly character.” Mr. Benedict in the series is still eccentric, epilectic and tireless in his quest to right the wrongs in his world. At the end of Episode 2, the audience realizes Hale is pulling double duty in the series. He plays the sketchy institute headmaster and series villain L.P. Curtain. “We always saw it as a dual role, and that’s why somebody who is as versatile as Tony was, was so appealing to us,” Manfredi says. Novel readers know Mr. Benedict and Mr. Curtain are twin brothers. Hale makes a strong impression as Mr. Benedict in his introduction, and the challenge for the kids to figure out Mr. Curtain begins. 

Along with the set design and Catherine Adair’s (recently known for costuming The Man In The High Castle and Fate: The Winx Saga) vintage kitschy costumes, casting is also a key part of distinguishing The Mysterious Benedict Society from other series. Reynie, Sticky, Kate and Constance in the books were characters not only defined by their intelligence but also for their innate sense of the truth in an uncertain world. “When we were casting with the kids, it was important to us to find old souls.” Manfredi said.  

One of the most appealing factors to me as a reader over a decade ago was how Stewart’s vision of Stonetown had diverse representation built into the story. On the other hand, the adaptation of A Series of Unfortunate Events used raceblind casting to offset the white main characters Lemony Snicket (Daniel Handler) originally described. Episode 1 of The Mysterious Benedict Society brings this to the screen by introducing Reynie as a Latine boy learning Tamil from his teacher Miss Perumal (Gia Sandhu). “We were very, throughout the process really, really focused on diversity and inclusion in the cast, Hay says. “We were really hoping to find a diverse Reynie and Sticky … We wanted Sticky to be an African-American actor.” Although racism in the world of Stonetown works slightly differently than in ours, neither character is isolated from others who look like them. 

One of the kids had an unintentional shift in their heritage. “In the book, Constance Contraire is not Russian, but when we saw Marta’s audition, she illuminated parts of the character for us, and we all of a sudden just couldn’t see her any other way,” Manfredi says. Fans should be reassured despite this accent shift Constance in the first two episodes is still the obstinate, headstrong, and full of haterade little girl readers know and love.

This vision was also carried out in the casting of the adult characters in the series. “Rhonda Kazembe is such a huge part of the book and of the show, even a bigger part of the show than the book,” Hay says.  “To find MaameYaa was such a gift, but yeah, that was really on top of our mind, and then throughout the rest of the show, again, from the perspective of wanting the show to look like the world and seeing it as an opportunity to really create a world that does reflect the world around us.” In order to fulfill this objective, a shift in the storytelling was required. In the novel, once the kids arrive at the mysterious island institute, all of the action revolves around the children. “It was important to us to keep the adults involved, to create a kind of parallel storyline to have that back and forth with the kids and the adults and learn from each other along the way, and solve the mystery together.” Manfredi says.

What can viewers expect from the remaining six episodes? Stopping Mr. Curtain’s evil propaganda campaign is the conclusion the series is leading to. “We hope that over the course of the season, there’s going to be a lot of twists and turns and hopefully it’ll be a lot of fun,” Manfredi says. “[Hopefully] these themes of empathy and the importance of truth and being able to look at a problem in many different ways…[will] resonate, and hopefully they have fun with it.” 

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There are three books total in the series, plus a prequel about Mr. Benedict, but the fate of the series is out of the hands of Hay and Manfredi. For those who want to see the series continue, word of mouth online and offline will be key to get middle schoolers to watch and for adults to sign onto a nostalgia trip.  The first two episodes of The Mysterious Benedict Society will be available on Disney + on June 25th followed by one new episode every Friday.

The post The Mysterious Benedict Society: Bringing the Middle Grade Mystery Series to TV appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[damianimated]

Pardon me, I dunno if you've already talked about this elsewhere or if you'd rather not say, but I hope it's okay to ask, were you an animation major in college and where did you study for your bachelors? and if it's not that intrusive, are you working in a studio right now? I've been contemplating getting a second bachelor's in animation and wanted to know if you feel it's helpful to get into the industry or if you feel alternative methods like online schools could be just as good? thank you!

I actually kind of avoid talking about animation because I feel like I’m somewhat of a downer. I don’t work in an animation studio, though I wish I did. I’ve been continuously applying to internships since I was in my undergrad. 

Short Story: I wasn’t able to afford any of the schools I got into. And I don’t currently work in the animation industry, though I would like to.

Long Story: I was accepted into the California Institute of the Arts (CalArts), School of Visual Arts (SVA), and several others during my senior year of high school. Though my heart was dead set on CalArts because essentially if you want to pursue a career in the animation industry that’s where you need to go. The animation industry has a history of hiring primarily from CalArts, partially because it’s right near Walt Disney Animation Studios, DreamWorks Animation, Nickelodeon, and other top tier companies. So it’s easy for them to do student outreach.

Anyone who’s anyone has gone there: Tim Burton, Henry Selick, Pendleton Ward…literally everyone. Look up any major TV show and its creator came from CalArts. But it’s almost as expensive as Harvard.

This is why I think the majority of animated series come from upper class white men and why TV is slanted to present a certain perspective. People from low income areas will struggle to afford these schools.

Which for me…was incredibly disheartening. The end of my senior year of high school was spent crying over my acceptance letter. I couldn’t even scrounge together the massive startup fees. I was devastated because it had been my dream school since I was twelve. Then slowly I went down the latter and found myself unable to afford any of the schools. I fell into a deep deep deep depression and no longer cared about graduating or anything. I just stopped caring about everything.

I finally ended up getting enough energy to apply to a regular nobody state school In Massachusetts (it’s actually right near where J.K. Rowling’s American wizarding school Ilvermorny is located). 

I majored in psychology and writing (because I figured my dreams of doing art were ruined). Then I started taking art classes (because I couldn’t help myself) and switched to sociology and writing. Then I dropped sociology and became an art and writing major. I transferred to another state school that was closer to my home (close to where the Dr Seuss museum is) and that’s where I ended up graduating. While there I got really into children’s books. I had always been a writer so I focussed on that instead.

Currently I’m in my final year at Simmons College program in Writing for Children MFA, and I freelance write while working on my children’s books and graphic novels.

Anyway, in this day of social media I don’t think these incredibly expensive schools like CalArts have the same power they once did. You see, they honestly were all about social networking and being in the right place at the right time. Half of the top tier artists and show creators have less talent than people I’ve seen come out of schools you’ve never heard of. And a lot of storyboard artists and visual development artists are starting to come from schools that were seen as “less than” CalArts.

Rebecca Sugar went to the School of Visual Arts program in comic arts and she created Steven Universe which was a first. Carrie Lao is a story board artist at Disney Animation who went to California State University-Fullerton. Fawn Veerasunthorn is a story board artist and Disney who went to Columbus College of Art and Design. And there are artists who couldn’t afford school who did there own thing online. Like Naomi Romero who is a boss at social media and does her own stuff, picking up jobs from major studios. 

A lot of jobs are even given to people who go to ordinary state schools, or wherever, simply because they keep posting on social media. I have quite a few friends this has worked out for. I would advise against shady online classes or “for profit” schools like the Art Institutes. They are bad and just take your money and leave you with nothing.

My bit of advice is find a school you can afford. If it had a reputable program than that’s all the more better. And then draw, draw and draw some more. Keep drawing as much as you can and you’ll keep getting better. Draw from inspiration. Draw from others. Doodle. Scribble. Not everything needs to be perfect. Post it. Post it to social media and build a portfolio. AND don’t wait for jobs and opportunities to come to you. Interact with major players on social media, go to conventions, network. Whether in life or online. It might take some effort but you can get where you want, and maybe save yourself 200k along the way!

Anyway I have to wrap this up because I still have no pants on and I have class in an hour. Hope I could help a bit!

[breebeelee]

Black Diamond Rings: Amazing Popular Rare Pieces

One of the mainstream bits of adornments being worn by numerous big names and acclaimed stars these days is the dark jewel rings. They are typically created in platinum, titanium or white gold and some of the time in yellow and strong real silver. There are numerous varieties and in numerous choices of creator brands, you can see a blended mix of high contrast precious stones. There are structures which jumble little stones of both highly contrasting and they are truly stunning. The popular ones are the solitaire with round cut dark jewel set in white gold in 14k or 18k. These staggering rings are flawless birthday presents for those conceived in April. A few people who are attracted to the uniqueness and uncommonness of common dark jewels pick these stones to be the central fascination of their commitment and wedding bands.

Genuinely, this sort of rings overflow with inhale taking wonder. You can discover them in an assortment of shading from genuine dark to light dim shade. On the off chance that you window shop on the web and disconnected, you will be awed by the gigantic assortment of pre-set structures and styles. In any case, you ought to know that there is the characteristic and the improved dark precious stone which is a copy. Your gem specialist will give you a Certificate of Authenticity on the off chance that it is a real regular dark precious stone. It orders a higher price tag and evaluation esteem. It isn't profoundly cleaned or doesn't shimmer like a shaded precious stone in view of its strong hardness. In the event that you need a dark precious stone which has a brilliant coating you can wear coolly and as often as possible, you can choose the improved dark jewel or a hued precious stone which has experienced a procedure of upgrade in research centers to change its shading to dark.

Engagement Rings Perth The common dark jewels are viewed as the rarest and most costly kind of precious stone. A 1.00 carat orders a value which ranges from $840 - $1,200. These precious stones are found for the most part in Brazil, Africa, Venezuela and Australia. These stylish dark precious stone rings can be effortlessly blended and coordinated with practically any sort of gems. You can mix it with your accessory, arm band, hoops of any gemstone, pearl and you will revere them. In the event that you are considering giving your cherished one a dark precious stone ring as a present for an exceptional event or as a wedding band and she doesn't yet have this sort of gems, you need to ensure that she doesn't have any biased partialities about dark jewels.

For you to have the option to persuade her, it is smarter to have an away from of the historical backdrop of this metal and the encompassing secret that envelopes the excellence of its expectation. You can disclose to her an account of how diggers and researchers in Portugal found them in the last part of the 1800s. In view of a few theoretical hypotheses, these metals which are made of carbon iotas, hydrogen and a huge number of fortified little gems were shaped by a space rock collide with the earth a few a great many years back. Or on the other hand they were made under the earth a few billions of years prior and were raised to the surface by volcanic emissions. The secret rotates likewise on the odd convictions of certain individuals. The two of them can be sure and negative. The Indians accept that these jewels are reviled. Anyone who has them will confront misfortune or demise. There are a few people like the Italians who accept that these stones carry favorable luck to wedded couples and can forestall separate. They are viewed as stones of compromise and can mend broken connections.

When inspired, your darling can see the striking and excellent choice of dark precious stone rings. In view of the spending plan, she can pick her own novel shape and style of tasteful and exquisite solitaire style or other structure. She can have round, emerald, heart or princess cut excellent dark regular precious stone stones created in six pronged platinum setting in contemporary or old fashioned look. In the event that you consolidate the ring with differentiating conventional precious stones and different gemstones, the more she will adore and value her dark jewel ring. What's more, the more she will respect and love you as an end-result of the expressions of love you are showering her!