#so anyone else obsessed with words all the time and can't stop thinking about formats? bc im obsessed with words all the time

[lightbulb-warning]

<3 is a smile and <\3 is also a smile. to me. hope this helps!

[pb-dot]

Ooh, I love talking about my writing. Not more than I love writing it, but I do not hate talking about it as often as I hate writing it. My relationship with my writing is very passionate, you see. Here are the answers for The Clockwork Boy.

1: The Clockwork Boy and the series I hope it'll lead to is about strength and vulnerability, and communities organized around the same. Our protagonists are able to stay alive and navigate the world because they are open towards each other and the people who support them about their vulnerabilities. Meanwhile, the principal antagonists of the book are struggling to maintain their power and place in their communities because they, like most people eventually, are unable to maintain the front of overwhelming unilateral strength

2: I've been rooting a fair bit around colonialism-era Europe for inspiration for the world at large, and the fate of the government that used to rule there, but most of the worldbuilding has emerged from the themes of the story. There are, of course, some exceptions, like how the clockwork people work and operate is more or less a lift from the full-body cyborgs of Metal Gear Rising: Revengance but adapted to clockwork technology.

3: I consider both the POV character Jake and his clockwork friend 13 to be the main characters and their goals are aligned, but subtly different. Jake wants a place to belong, and he wants the people that make up that place to be as safe and healthy as possible, his prime struggle is dealing with the fact that to achieve this, moments of danger, or maybe even violence, may be necessary. 13 wants to know who he is. Whether this is to recover his pre-conversion memories and suss out who he used to be, or find out what kind of person he is now that time, and considerable surgical modification has changed him, is something he can't quite figure out. He'd also like to figure out Jake, as the sheer level of support he shows just doesn't compute for 13.

My main motivation to write this whole thing is, honestly, that I couldn't find enough genre fiction with a leading M/M couple, so I decided to take it upon myself to fix that. As I started working on the thing, though, my desire to Say Something with my writing took hold, thus the grander, or at least more expanded ideas about strength and vulnerability above.

4: The book is partitioned into 23 chapters and one epilogue at the time of writing, but it is pretty lean, so if I could find it in myself to indulge with some filler at appropriate spots, that number might increase.

5: Original content. My long-term plan is to get it published in the traditional sense, but I have no idea how to go about making this happen.

6: I started writing before I knew how to write. I and my paternal grandfather would "write books" when I was a kid, in reality, I dictated whatever wild shenanigans I came up with and he dutifully wrote it down. After I learned to write myself it's just been a thing I got to doing on occasion, until this most recent obsession of mine that started late last year.

7: I don't think I'm telling anyone here anything they don't know when I say writing is hard, especially if you, like me, are suffering from mental health problems or anything else that drains your energy inordinately. It's frustrating to not get as far as you want when you write, or not get to writing as often as you want, but take this from me: If you like writing, if you look at what you write on occasion and go "Yeah, this bit's pretty neat," keep going. Whether or not you publish and whether or not the whole thing turns out like you expected or wanted, it's immensely gratifying to get words on paper, to fasten the semi-organized idea cloud in your brain down in a linear format. Also, if you're anything like me, writing that stuff down is the only way to stop all those ideas and concepts from rolling around in your head all day and causing a ruckus anyway, so you might as well write about it.

Writers of Tumblr, I have an ask game for you all!

Please reblog and answer these questions, maybe tag others too! My asks are also open for them.

What is the main lesson of your story (e.g. kindness, diversity, anti-war), and why did you choose it?

What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding (like real-life cultures, animals, famous media, websites, etc.)?

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, help readers grow as a person?

How many chapters is your story going to have?

Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

When and why did you start writing?

Do you have any words of engagement for fellow writers of Writeblr? What other writers of Tumblr do you follow?

[rice-enjoyer]

A taste so sweet ; it makes all of your senses rot, from within.

a/n: this has been MARINATING in my drafts since august. reader is a cook/chef from Liyue! ~3.0k words! this is not sagau, for once, wow! a mostly harbinger-centered fic, i was simply not feeling it with scaramouche, sorry simps. (my boy pants though. - pantalone is finally in the spotlight! the wording of this fic seems to make it easy for me to go on and on about him.) dottore does get his routine paragraphs that are a mile longer than everyone else's, he's still my favorite war criminal <3 cw: gn reader, x reader format. food, probably everything that has to do with preparing food, reader gets kidnapped, reader has some angst added and self-esteem issues but it turns into fluff very soon. few mentions of death, (reader's and a side character's)some obsessiveness + possessiveness, reader ACCIDENTALLY cuts themselves with a knife, very short-lived and harmless wound.

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As the saying goes: The way to anyone's heart is either through their pants or stomach - you chose the latter, being a well-known chef from Liyue. You sort of had to. How did you end up becoming the 11 harbingers' personal chef? Well... You liked to participate in those little cooking competitions, that's how. Always being on the podium, never getting anything worse than 3rd place. You grew up loving to participate, even as a child - not expecting to win, but to learn. Knowledge when it comes to cooking, baking, recipes, and how to alter them just fascinated you, ever since you were young. Xiangling was a close friend of yours, and you've been thinking about signing a contract, to work in a restaurant. You went home, already planning your future as an official chef for the restaurant. With new responsibilities in mind, you sigh deeply in the empty hall as you take off your shoes. Your mind was filled and rattling with all sorts of new problems to antagonize over. You were worried, deeply, but concealing that should be the best, weakness has no place in your heart for now. Maybe later, when you are a bit more comfortable with being employed at a new place. Everything was going too well. Maybe you'll even make friends! And, as you'd joke, fate really despised you. Only, it wasn't a joke this time.

The Fatui are everywhere, you can't deny that. But you started to notice a new pattern as you were about to start working at Wanhmin. Day by day, more and more agents show up around your workplace, then on the street, you live in, you were sure someone broke into your home the other day. But there was no evidence, so what can you do? Stay paranoid, and vigilant. Only one problem with this seemingly flawless plan. You are so exhausted from working one day that you didn't lock your door. You were already busy making dinner, craving stone harbor delicacies since it was easy to prepare - you hear the door creak open. Your train of thought has abruptly stopped.

Now, for the exact beginning of your pitiful reality. It all started with an offer you just can't refuse, literally. A misunderstanding brought you to Sneznhaya, how very tragic. The person rummaging and searching for something in your house made eye contact with you, as you were trying to arm yourself with a single, very average, and rather dull kitchen knife. Mistaking you for someone else who had information worth taking, maybe until your lifeless body would get thrown into the soft snow. While the only thing at your disposal was cooking knowledge, and your lowly excuse of a weapon. Such a sorry fate, for you, and that cicin mage who suddenly vanished shortly after failing such an important mission - never seeing your kidnapper again. You were naive, fate leading you by the hand into a pit you can never truly crawl out of.

Lucky for you, meeting your end would've been too kind of a finale to your seemingly short-lived story. Seeing how you are useful in a way, death's cold grip didn't pull you into the night. In the end, you did sign a contract to work, just not in the restaurant. Becoming head chef for the palace rather quickly, your talent would've been wasted, and, no one would want that now would they? Seeing how you were pleasant to be around, compliant, and mostly, quiet, you were just perfect. Having to serve food for the recruits, and agents were no big deal. You'd even strike up conversations with them, some of those were quite lovely. The problem was that after a while, the harbingers have taken an obvious interest in you. You were too frightened to notice that, at first.

To cope with your sudden change of scenery, of environment, to digest your experience, instead of sleeping at night, well, you'd walk. Restless, going from empty room to empty room, looking out the window. With whatever little moonlight was illuminating these rooms, you'd wonder, if you could ever rest, in a place so cold, so distant from your entire being. And so, the cycle continued, you'd wake early, still dark outside to start preparing for the day, exhausted from not getting any rest. Hands full of idle work, thoughts filled with uncertainty. You dreaded lunch, more so than before. Slowly, you climbed the ranks unintentionally, and because of your hospitality, every single cook, maid, and housekeeper tried to shove all of their scarier duties toward you. You may stutter and show minimal signs of discomfort when talking with any of the harbingers, but you wouldn't break under pressure, therefore, the other staff would live to see another day for a job fulfilled well. But knocking on their doors, when you knew you'd be bothering all of them, wishing they'd just, interact with you as little as possible. Oh but fate just hated you, you were just sure of it. You danced the same, off-beat waltz around the palace at dinner. It took you a while to understand but they hated each other so much. Your daydream of not having to talk to them on a daily basis, having them together at a single location, like one of the many dining rooms was never happening. There are a few exceptions, of course, but by the looks of it, they'd rather eat glass than willingly talk to one another. It was night again, so you'd get yourself ready for... walking. And restlessness.

And so, you thought you were replaceable, anyone can cook, bake, and make dishes taste divine, with the right background and experience.

Anyone could be you.

Oh, but how wrong you were. None of them would admit it to you, of course. Prideful creatures they are. The slow, slow change was seen by all, yet no one talked of it. Annoyance at your presence turned to quiet acknowledgments, nods, and slowly, questions. Having as stressful jobs as theirs, it was nice to hear you chatter about simple practices you do to complete your given duties. It was a breath of fresh air, literally. Some even asked you, - if it was only the two of you, - that you would not use their titles, as it makes them feel closer to you, to being human. They were all oh so curious, about your process, all your thoughts about how to make those extremely difficult Fontaine pastries, what was the difference between baking and cooking, and exactly what would it take to poison them, but before that thought could continue, you reassured them that would never happen, as you are the unofficial taste tester, also eating the exact same things they do, and so on. So, instead of quietly humming to yourself, feeling alone, you realized, they were just as lonely as you. And so after months, you'd find yourself humming along with Columbina. She'd ask to dance with you, and, who were you to deny her a little fun? The pots overboiling had different plans, of course, but you managed. She prefers sweet and light dishes, but the ones with some sort of sweet or tangy filling are her favorites. Like taiyaki, for example. Only because that means there's usually some extra cream on the corner of your lips, and she can easily fluster you by holding your chin in place to clean it off with her finger, sighing in delight while your cheeks become tinted with red and babble at her sudden boldness.

As you were having breakfast, Sandrone was showing you her newest altered automation, mouth full of a slice of an egg, spinach, and cheese pie you cooked for her, it was hard to make out what she was saying, but you listened. She seems to prefer mild salty flavors and portable dishes, which is understandable, seeing how much she's focused on her work. Her favorites are bread specialties you make oh so very often, mora meat, or bread pockets made with fresh fish. You only noticed this when one of her robotic assistants asked you to explain in great detail on how to make the foods mentioned, to produce the exact same result as you do.

On your way to the market, Arlecchino just happens to run into you, saying how the orphanage is not far from the market, knowing very well it's in the complete opposite direction, but you indulge her, talking as if you've known each other forever. You play into her fantasy of having a friend, but after a while, it seems to be genuine. You were homesick the day before, so you made a big batch of lotus flower crisps and took some with you. The sweet aroma from your bag intrigues her, and she now has a favorite snack to eat, not only because it's sweet, but mainly because it reminds her of your walks to the market.

La Signora, she scares you the least. While it seems that she's just as cruel and terrifying, she has known love at one point in her life, teaching you ancient recipes from Old Mondstadt. When making one of them is a success, her subordinates are eternally grateful to you because it puts her in a better mood for days. One dish she really likes and has told you that it reminds her of the past is northern apple stew, so you make it for her whenever you can.

You'd genuinely smile when Tartaglia compared your cooking to his mother's, saying it has a similar "warmth". Another advocate for seafood and fresh fish, he has told you many times when you make Wanmin-style black-back perch stew, he feels like he's right back in Liyue. He's constantly complimenting how skilled you are with a knife when cutting meat. Perhaps it's an invitation to sparring? Who knows, he is never quite clear on that.

Capitano is very against it, however. That's why there's never a direct and clear answer to his question. Why harm the one person who can make good food? This just fuels Childe to annoy you further. Not only because it's fun to do so from Tartaglia's perspective, but also because it's a sure source of Capitano's attention. He is not picky at all, quite the opposite. But there is an obvious preference for meat-heavy dishes, like braised meat or minty meat rolls. A small nod of appreciation that makes you smile softly.

Pulcellina is assisting you to send your letters that are addressed to your family almost weekly, making sure that your loved ones don't think your disappearing meant certain death. He reads them in secret, or so he thinks. How could you not suspect it when you've learned that there is no privacy in this cold place left for you? To your surprise, you've found another pasta lover through him, making most, if not all of Liyue's noodle-centered foods.

Dottore seems to think you want some sort of favor from him, he's far too focused on his research to realize that being a chef is your actual job. It appears that way, but he does care, whenever one of his clones drops by the palace or he meets with them personally, there seems to be a small batch of select spices on your desk or some sumeru roses. How surprisingly thoughtful of him. In exchange for his efforts, you often make Sumerian dishes, such as biryani.

Going out of your assigned guest room, that later on becomes your very own, starting the day with drinking bitter and dark coffee with Pierro. He has told you many times how certain flavors you use in your recipes remind him of a faint memory that tastes like home. You are more than welcome to stay in his presence, "You are no bother, truly." - he finds himself saying rather often. If you have any writing to do, please, feel free to knock on his door, working in solitude is so much more tedious, even if there aren't any words exchanged between the two of you.

Much later, after finishing up in the dead of night, you'd find yourself drinking authentic Liyue tea with Pantalone in his office. You'd sometimes look over his shoulder, interested in what he was writing so quickly. He swears if he were to start explaining, it would bore you tremendously. There have been times when if you'd say one of his colleague's names, he'd listen to you a bit too eager to hear any form of gossip you'd pick up on. You've found yourself a person to actually converse with, good job! There have been occurrences when you'd find yourself getting a bit too comfortable on a sofa in his office, his velvety voice accidentally lulling you to some well-deserved sleep. Don't worry, a secret like this will never be the topic of the newest talk. That would mean sharing your company, and your limited free time with others, and that is certainly the worst. At least with him taking a liking to you, there is nothing in all of Teyvat you are short of. Fate is forgiving to you, just this once. Sometimes voicing your concern about how this is all a bit too much, he'd laugh. "Oh, please. I sincerely hope you are doing this out of formalities." Dismissing whatever humane insecurities you have left like it's the most normal reaction one might have.

You were the last one to notice that closeness, of course. Both figuratively and literally. You were doing a million things at once and accidentally cut yourself while chopping vegetables for dinnertime. A small diagonal cut going from the knuckle of your index finger to the middle of your thumb, nothing major, you think. A voice, coming from behind you thought otherwise. You turned to your left, only to feel two short taps on your right shoulder. "Oh, that could get infected if you don't treat it. Hm. You probably should." - A dramatic sigh left his mouth, probably because there wasn't anyone else around. "Come, you have work to get back to, and so do I. But I can't focus on said work if I'm hungry." Of course. Dottore. The concept of personal space is foreign to him, not leaving you any time to protest or even process what he said. Grabbing your arm a lot more gently than you expected you are being pulled or rather, taken to that god-awful lab again. His tone of voice is...softer, it seems. After a long series of walking, going outside to feel the snow decorating your face in a flushed red because of the cold, going down numerous staircases, you end up at your destination. Keys jingling, ancient iron walls creaking.

He gestures at a chair for you to sit down at. You do, while looking around, this place still irks you. "Tch, I can't just clone you and make you anew, Pierro made one of me sign a contract to swear by it, ugh. Take better care of yourself. This is an order." Judging by his tone, how fast and seemingly carelessly said those words to you, he probably wanted to keep all of this to himself but failed spectacularly. You let out a hearty laugh. The first one in months. Your guard crashes down, into the unwelcoming environment. Your laugh brightens every dark corner of the lab, for a short moment. Someone so apathetic getting worked up over something so trivial really makes you chuckle. "Hah, sorry I apologize." - you deeply inhale to catch your breath. - "I could make something extra for your troubles. Would you like anything specific, Doctor?" "Something sweet should suffice." He finishes wrapping the bandage around your hand, suddenly wincing in pain. He applied something antibacterial to the bandages, but you were too distracted having a good time to notice.

Most of them complain to you about their workload, their colleagues, everything. You now know way too much about the harbingers. You've made them softer towards yourself, but also towards each other. You are acquainted with all of them now. Dottore gloats about being the first one to make you laugh as some huge achievement, like one of his usual cruel experiments on his subjects. You do hear of this, from a maid who took your refreshments to the meeting room. Another thing you hear of from the same maid is how delighted they all are that you don't they don't have to share your attention with the Balladeer, as he is currently busy wreaking havoc in Inazuma. This makes you feel a little honored, but still uneasy. The course fate has picked for you made you so much more than you bargained for.

You hum softly. The same flavor of pride has set its poisonous teeth in you, just like it has in theirs. The walls they've built around themselves are turning into dust in your hands. You've awakened something humane in them, but, only towards you. And, of course, you would never dare to admit it, but they've changed you. You were still kind, and considerate, but the hunger for knowledge in your eyes... it has a different spark, a darker tint, barely noticeable, but it's there. Knowing you can... access information with no trouble, your view of the world, of fate, changed.

They all take great satisfaction in this, it was one of the few times something could be called a genuine team effort. Don't expect them to work together for another cause, unless it's the Tsaritsa herself declaring war. Her cold and gentle gaze makes you feel at ease when the palace is as empty as the poor people's eyes, glassy and dull who dare say anything against her Majesty's principles.

Making a cozy home for yourself in a place like this would make any workplace hire you in an instant, but why would you want to leave now? Maybe a visit to your family, making up for the many weeks and months of not seeing them, sure. But you'll come back, no matter what. You do seem to have some say in the matter, but smiling politely and declining is the way to go for now. It's quite a funny thing to think about, how you have the world's most feared feeding from the palm of your hand. Yes, you are sure of it now, fate has changed you.

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