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#he’s pretty good about fixing the plot holes with author’s notes or just later on in the story

wewindondowntheroad · 3 years

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Writer asks: 1, 6, 10, 22, 29, 38

thanks! :D

1. When did you start writing?

I've got an awful memory for like placing that sort of thing but when I was pretty young, like third or fourth grade. I used to have this massive binder of DBZ fanfiction in my closet as a kid (since systematically destroyed) and I remember in fifth grade me and my best friend at the time just convinced we were going to become published authors and we both wrote really long stories and used to exchange them to read.

6. Do you write on your phone/laptop/paper/something else?

Mostly on my laptop, occasionally, like if i'm at work or on vacation or something I'll write down bits and pieces on paper or in a notebook, and i've got a tons of notes on my phone for when i'm on a walk and start thinking of good stuff. if i'm really desperate, like yesterday at work, i start drafting a story in like a tumblr draft so i can just copy and paste into my document when i get home

10. Origin of your username?

on here, wewindondowntheroad is from Stairway to Heaven because I started out as a classic rock blog and i'm never going to let it go because "we wind on down the road" is such a life mood

i'm radiantradish elsewhere because I can't remember why exactly but at some point when I started my current job I just really resonated with radishes (i was a cashier so like ringing up produce all the time) and there was this guy i liked and I used to tell my sister like well he's a babe and I'm just a radish. and that's sort of the origin? i vibe with root vegetables

22. Favourite part about writing fanfiction?

Hanging out with my favorite characters I guess? going on fun adventures and falling in love and working through problems.

Like in a technical way though, my favorite part is when I'm struggling with some part of the story like a plot hole or a missing scene and then the good feeling when I figure out how to fix it, like imagining the one detail about a character or a situation that just makes everything else fit just right

And also when I've got something finished being able to come back to it later to reread and enjoy in the same way that I did when I first wrote it

29. Where do you get your inspiration from?

life, music, thinking of silly conversations in my head

38. Something writing related you'd like to get better at?

smut. That's what i'm working on right now lol

#ask #spacejammie-eimmajecaps #thank you!

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crue-sixx · 5 years

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Is This A Zombie?

Title: Is This A Zombie?

Author: tiddly-winx

Fandom: The Dirt (Motley Crue Movie)

Summary: The reader is a zombie, but with all of her senses in place. How will she explain to her crush Tom Zutaut that she's the living dead?

Note: Tom Zutaut needs some love. Also, reader is bi-sexual.

Warnings: zombies, dead things coming to life, swearing, drinking, drug use, sexual references, mention of self harm and abandonment. If you are sensitive to any of this, please don't read.

DEATH:

You woke up with a gasp and you were utterly confused. One second you were in nothing but darkness but now you were in a well lit semi-medical place. You heard a scream of fright as you whipped your head around to see a person in hospital scrubs sprawled out on the floor, their equipment scattered around them. "Jesus Christ shut the fuck up already!" you shouted above the person's screams. Your voice sounded hoarse like you'd been sick or something. They stopped and stared at you in total horror.

"Alright then" you swung your legs around and tried to hop off the rather uncomfortable bed but your legs buckled and snapped under your weight, the strange thing was that you didn't feel any pain. You just marveled at your twisted legs and said "Now if you'll stop being a little bitch for a few moments. would you kindly tell me what's happening to my body?"

The person pulled off their mask and you could tell from the Adam's Apple that it was a man "Your legs broke because of rigor mortise" his fear turned into awe as he looked you up and down. "You're dead..."

You should have been scared shitless, but you just gazed at them and asked "Can you set them right?"

"Erm...yes...I can reconstruct the bones and put splints on your legs until you can move them freely again..."

"Cool" you sat up "Now if you'll please help me back on the metal slab, could you tell me how I died?" you were now more interested in all things morbid.

LIFE:

You were visiting your cousin Vince while you were in town, the two of you tearing it up. You two smoked, drank and injected whatever you could get your hands on. It was always like this, even when you two were growing up. You were his favorite substance abuse buddy and he was yours. You did a whole lot of stupid shit together, including pissing off whoever got in the way of your good time.

You did however, have a penchant for being attracted to nerdy boys. Where Vince loved the big titted mud wrestling blonde bimbos, you craved socially awkward males with above average intelligence. You saw nothing but bliss when Tom Zutaut walked to your table at the Rainbow all professional like you were struck with cupid's arrow.

You laughed along with Vince and his friends when Zutaut jumped and fixed his fly, turning down a free blowjob was hilarious but you found it charming at the same time. You, Vince and his friends were far from "normal" but even you had turned down some drunken bitch's advances from time to time because she was so trashed that she could barely walk. In those cases, you'd help her friends get her to where she was going safely.

The royal dick sucker however, wasn't at all inebriated so after Tom had left you put your hand under the table with a crisp brand new fifty dollar bill in it and said "Hey, Sweetheart?"

The curly haired blonde poked her head from under the tablecloth "Yeah Dollface?"

"That clit isn't going to suck itself you know" all the boys around you chuckled, the curly blonde smiled and took the fifty, getting to work on you. Nikki and Tommy both high fived either one of your hands and grinned at each other on the promise that you'd let them both watch while you were being pleasured, them slipping under the table to enjoy the show.

Later a small bottle of what you assumed to be alcohol was placed on the table, from seemingly nowhere. You snatched it up and slipped it in your purse for later consumption when you got a private moment to yourself. That moment wouldn't come however, as when all the rest of them but you and Vince were passed out he had went through your purse to see if you had any more crack for him to snort. "Y/N what the fuck is this?" he teased, shaking the bottle.

"That's mine" you said, taking the bottle from him.

"Then why does it have my name on it?" he pointed to the printed "VINCE" on the label.

"Maybe that's the name of the drink, dumbass" you teased back, taking a swig. You didn't even swallow before you started coughing up blood. "What the fuck?"

"Y/N! Fuck!" he leaped up to help you, to his horror a hole was burning through your throat. You had drank a corrosive material thinking it was alcohol. The smell of burning flesh was sickening, your vocal chords fried to shit, the only sound you could make was gasping for air.

The others had rousted from the noise and Tommy was on the phone with the ambulance. You were crying as Vince kept applying pressure to the wound, him freaking the fuck out about the situation. He lifted up the cloth he was using to replace it with a clean one, only to gag at the sight of the oozing wound in the middle of your neck.

You felt yourself sink into the floor, your vision going dark. Vince's voice was getting distant like you were running away from him. The last thing you saw was him being pushed out of the way and the paramedics taking over.

LIVING DEAD GIRL:

The medical examiner had said you had prevented an assassination attempt on Vince by drinking the corrosive acid in his place. Though it was on accident, you had preferred it that way-he had a promising rock star career with the band and Electra Records. You were just some girl living in her uncle's van while your parents didn't care what was going on with you-they turned you loose when you were twelve because they just simply didn't want you anymore.

You turned to drugs and alcohol to cope, you admit it was a bad way to cope but it was the only way that you could numb the pain of abandonment. You tried cutting yourself, but the pain was still there even after the razor blade sliced your skin. Of course Vince had found you during one of your episodes, cursed you out and bitch slapped you across the face to knock some sense into you. He had set you on the path to substance abuse, but he thought it was better than you carving yourself up like a turkey dinner at Thanksgiving.

It was a few weeks before the medical examiner was able to give you artificial bones throughout your body so you'd be able to move around like normal and not clunky like a rusty robot. In that time, you'd had your funeral, staying quiet as a church mouse in your casket. Then you were buried in a family plot, dug up by the medical examiner (who by now you'd named Dr. Frankenstein) and had artificial bones and a showroom new set of vocal chords so you'd be able to talk normally again.

You were almost normal, except for the gaping hole in your neck that couldn't go away, even with skin grafts it just melted the new skin right off. You had given up and decided on wearing scarves and neckerchiefs, even though you hated them. You couldn't go out in public with that nasty wound on display. You wanted to find that Zutaut kid, but first thing you wanted to do was scare the shit out of Vince and his friends. A girl had to have her fun after all.

You knocked on the door to their apartment, Nikki answering the door and nearly shitting himself. "What the fuck?!" he stumbled backward.

You stepped over him and said "I see you finally fixed the door" Vince looked hurt and confused, him stuttering over his words like a frightened child-in many ways he was. "Quiet now, Vinny" you cradled his head to your chest "I'm right here..."

"No" he pulled back gently "you're dead...we watched you die..."

"Dead as a door nail" you agreed and giggled "but I just couldn't stay dead" you reached out to try and touch his cheek, but he backed away.

"You're still so cold..." silent, horrified tears rolled down his face.

"Vince" you said softly "I never blamed any of you for letting me die..." there was a hint of malice in your voice that wasn't there before.

Vince shook his head "You're not Y/N...she'd never say something like that..."

"Who else would I be Vinny?" you pulled off the scarf from your neck, exposing the wound. His hand flew to his mouth and he fell back to the floor "doesn't this prove that I am Y/N L/N?" you straddled him and he tried to make himself smaller. You were about to sink your teeth into him when you saw Tom Zutaut's business card covered in cocaine.

You picked it up and looked at it a little bit, then showed it to him "Call this nerd for me and tell him to meet me outside the Rainbow in an hour?" he nodded his head in agreement and dialed.

Zutaut was there in under ten minutes, him being attracted to your confidence when he last saw you. He didn't know you had died, and you didn't look like you were decaying, thanks to the mortician's amazing embalming job. "Hey! Y/N!" he was happy to see you, you having put your scarf back on to hide your secret. "Thanks for having Vince call me! It's not very often I get asked on a date by a pretty girl like you!"

"Well, when I want something I grab it before anyone else can" you said, taking his arm. "Where do you want to go?"

"Just walking is fine with me" he said "I was eating dinner when I got your call, but some ice cream sounds good" he led you through the park to an ice cream stand and bought you both a cone. As you licked it, you felt the cold fall out the hole in your throat.

"Shit..." you whispered to yourself and cleaned up, thankful your scarf was absorbing the flow.

He stopped and looked at your scarf "It's almost 100 degrees outside, why are you wearing that thing? Do you have some hickies you don't want me to see?"

"No" you said quickly "I have a rather nasty rash that's only contagious if you touch it, but it still looks unsightly so I don't want to gross you out" you looked away shyly.

"Oh..." he turned away "so you like to party like a rockstar?"

"Hell yeah I do!" you laughed "but I can turn it off if you'd like. I want to quiet down some..." you looked up at him with your big doe eyes "I wouldn't mind if it were with you. Tom" he gulped, leaning down to go in for a kiss.

It only took a few seconds of tasting you for him to roughly push you away and say "You taste like death!"

You couldn't keep it together anymore-your mind and body. You softly began crying to yourself, then the cries turned into a cackling witch's laugh. You began to scratch at your face, the skin falling off in shreds. "Damn it! Damn it, damn it, damn it!" Zutaut looked on in horror as you lumbered toward him. "Just when I find a respectable boy, I just HAD to go and die!" At this point, your mandible was starting to rot off and was hanging by a thread of skin.

You couldn't form words anymore, even if you had your mouth fully intact. Your brain had been slowly rotting from the time you "woke up" to now, and your body was just catching up. Tom had the good sense to run away when you started to change, but from behind the medical examiner took the sharp end of the shovel to take off your head.

He then took out a recording device and spoke "Professor Greene. The reanimation experiment was a complete failure from the get-go. The intended test subject was unable to be collected, the test subject we obtained was incompatible with our technology and deteriorated at a slow pace, which was to be expected from a fresh corpse. I was shocked when she first woke up-I wasn't expecting the experiment to even get off the ground. The concept was so far fetched that I thought it impossible. At the time of termination, the subject had withered away into a rotting shell of her former self. I was able to convince the gentlemen at the apartment she visited that they were having a very bad drug induced dream. I will now suspend the experiment until a later date, but will keep an eye on subject Vince Neil until we are able to update the technology. Signing off" he stowed the device and buried your body in the shallow grave he'd dug a few feet away. He'd followed you to the place to observe you.

He had failed, but he'd just have to keep on trying.

#motley crue #mötley crüe #the dirt #vince neil #motley crue imagine #mötley crüe imagine #vince neil imagine #not mine #submitted #submission

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shadowsong26fic · 4 years

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Coming Attractions!

First Monday of the month, woohoo!

(And also kind of a NaNo roundup post because that was last month, after all…)

NaNo:

Sooooo I didn’t finish, lol. Not that I was…super expecting to, exactly, but I was hopeful! I think I just missed too many days in a row and lost all my momentum.

In terms of my goals, I was hoping to write:

1. 20-25k on Precipice 2. 20-25k on our faces like a mirror 3. 10-20k on Other Projects. 4. 50-70k total

In terms of what I actually accomplished:

1. 9,241 on Precipice (Sooooooo....about half of what I’d hoped, a little less. But I still got a fair amount done/prepped for upcoming chapters, plus a couple chapters actually posted, even while doing other stuff, so...go me!) 2. 9,043 on our faces like a mirror (Again, a bit less than half of what I’d hoped for, but I got enough done for the story/etc. to take a real Shape in my head. ...ish. See the specific OFLAM stuff later on in the post...) 3. 10,601 on Other Projects (Hey, I actually met this goal! ...barely, but still! Mostly thanks to the Nikita/Rebels crossover, lol...) 4. 28,885 total

Original Fiction:

I got a decent chunk of a big backstory piece for Lux done (in the form of a “then” and “now” set of scenes/vignettes for the five Archangels)--that being said, I’m not sure I actually like what I have there, lol. I know more or less what I need to cover, but the details are fiddly. Also not sure whether I should refer to Lux by her current name, for consistency’s sake, or use a different name (either Lightbringer or just Lucifer) since she does technically reshape her name after being released when the main Apocalypse storyline kicks off…also debating whether Lux should be/present as female way back when--angels don’t really do gender the way humans do in this ‘verse, but the closest human term for Lux would be genderfluid, sooooo IDK. Also also, for the ‘Now’ part…ehhh, I’m not sure I should have this be the first thing I post involving Trixie…but I’ll keep poking at it and see what comes out.

(I’d also planned to work on the big Kesshare character study saturation for The Farglass Cycle this month, and maybe go back to my untitled first-contact story, but neither of those happened, lol.)

Precipice:

We’re in the home stretch! Kinda. So to speak. Probably three to four more chapters in Arc Seven, which I’m hoping-fingers-crossed I’ll finish by the end of the calendar year??? (But given how much other stuff I hope to work on (see Other Fanfic Projects for more details…)

At that point--and I know I’ve said this before, and I’ll probably put it in an A/N in the next chapter or so, but following the end of Milestones, I’m planning to break off into a second/sequel fic, working title Protectors. This is at least in part because length (over 200k wtf I was anticipating 50-75k, maybe 100k, for these seven arcs @.@), but also was sort of planned even without the Length issue, due to some thematic/structure shifts following a six-year timeskip. Which, if you do the math, you can probably figure out where that’ll land us and why I might be structuring it this way…

Anyway, I’ve increasingly realized that there’s some stuff I should probably set up that I’ll need for later arcs in Part 2 involving some Rebels characters, more with the Last Batch, plus a Sith Apprentice who needs to turn up and die (although the gap between Infernalis and the next apprentice I actually care about/have a name and some kind of Plot for is only about four years in my mental timeline, so maybe there isn’t an active Apprentice in that period*…hmmmmm…), some background about the Hands, etc. But I feel like it’s all a little too disjointed for an entire additional arc. So, Arc 7.5, tentatively titled Preludes, is also going to be a thing XD I don’t think I’ll have a fixed schedule for that vs. the main storyline--and, honestly, it’ll probably work more like a collection of one-shots taking place during the timeskip than a proper Arc, but a little more Relevant than stuff that goes in Bonus Content, if that makes sense? It’ll probably be posted alongside at least arcs 8 and 9. Which, incidentally, take place more or less back-to-back and cover a fairly short period of time, but there is A Lot of plot/setup that goes into them. Like. If I tried to do it all as one arc, it’d be at least twice as long as any of the other arcs I’ve done, possibly including Arc Four--certainly over twenty chapters, I think--plus there’s a good (and by good I mean Horrible) place where I can split the arcs, so…we’ll see how that goes.

(…still not sure what to do with Maul, lol. He may just be Sir Darth Not-Appearing-In-This-Fic, or he might turn up in arc 10/11/13, which are the sort of vaguest of the next seven arcs which make up Protectors, in terms of how much I have planned out…)

(*On a semi-related note, I’ve been asked about Inquisitors a couple times in comments lately, and…well, I’ll probably mention this when I reply to the commenter in question, but I figured I’d set it out here as well, in case anyone else was wondering the same thing but doesn’t read other peoples’ comments. Like I’m pretty sure I mentioned at the start, when I plotted out** the bulk of this fic, I hadn’t seen Rebels yet. I’ve since decided to integrate a few characters/plot points (Kallus and Zeb will feature prominently in a subplot in arcs 13 and 14, for example), but, as a rule, characters and plot points from Rebels haven’t been taken into account unless I Really Like Them and/or they’re a good way to fill in a plot hole in a later arc, as with Kallus and Zeb. So, for example, when I include Thrawn, I’m writing more towards Legends!Thrawn in terms of personality, though the two have blended a bit in my head and I do reference specific events in Disney!Thrawn’s personal timeline; and b) more relevantly, I hadn’t made any plans to include Inquisitors, and that…hasn’t really changed. So, I might have them in Preludes, but they almost certainly won’t show up on-page/be super-relevant in the main arcs of the fic, sorry :/ )

(**Loooool I say “Plotted Out” like I’m the kind of author with a Master Plan or at least an outline. But I did have a general idea of the Major Plot Points going in, such as when Rex and Ahsoka would turn up, Luke’s storyline with Lavinia, how many Apprentices I would need to make them work, etc., and I’ve had parts of Arcs 8, 9, and 14 written for like at least two years now, so I know more or less where I’m going--though they’ll be edited once I have more of the connective tissue in place, in case I’ve accidentally Jossed myself…or I change my mind, which is becoming A Possibility with a major event set to happen in Arc 14, so…we’ll see.)

Aaaaaanyway. Exciting times ahead, I hope!

Other Fanfic:

This month, I finally posted another AU outline, woohoo! …I mean, it was a super-niche Nikita/Rebels crossover with a handful of OCs thrown in but who’s counting XD (I do actually intend to finish Let’s Go Steal a Crossover and update the Ventress one at some point but…yeah).

I also put out a Kallus one-shot that I think turned out really well. May do more of those at some point, who knows…

I made some significant progress on our faces like a mirror, as mentioned above! But now I’m waffling a little bit over structure. Basically, the fic covers Bo-Katan’s backstory from the time Satine becomes Duchess, through the Civil War, and eventually leads to Bo’s eventual break with her sister to join Death Watch. It comes in two pretty distinct halves--what I call the Fugitive arc in my notes, which covers the Civil War, and the Breakdown arc, which is everything after her return to Sundari.

So, my original plan was--prologue covering at least part of the final Epic Screaming Match that leads to Bo’s departure; jump back to the Fugitive Arc; and then follow through until we catch up to the prologue, with a coda/epilogue with her and Pre Viszla. The problem is, there’s…really not a lot to connect the two halves??

I’ve got a couple options on what to do about this, but I’m not sure which would be best.

Option One: Keep the structure as-is and just let it be episodic.

Option Two: Keep the structure as-is and find some way to connect the two halves (i.e., a recurring antagonist; I do have an idea of who this could be, but the problem is, it takes away a good chunk of the focus from Bo and Satine’s relationship for the Breakdown Arc…which I don’t really want to do.)

Option Three: Remove the framing device and focus on the Breakdown Arc, and include the Fugitive Arc as flashbacks, since the Breakdown Arc can’t really stand on its own. (The main issue I have with this one is that, if I want to actually write out future chunks of Bo’s life later--meaning, her time with Death Watch, and getting her from TCW to Rebels--I won’t have these flashbacks and I don’t want to change the structure too radically for any eventual sequels? Also, I’m not sure how I feel about a flashback structure for this fic in general…)

Option Four: Remove the framing device and focus on the Fugitive Arc, ending the story with Bo’s return to Sundari. (Two issues with this one--I really do want to go into the Breakdown Arc; that’s where my interest in this story started. Also, due to the constraints of setting and so on, Bo interacts with…like…two canon characters over the course of the Fugitive Arc? And while I don’t really have a problem writing a story that’s essentially a Backstory Epic for a tertiary character, populated by about 90% OCs, I’m not sure anyone actually wants to read that, except as the lead-in to the Breakdown Arc??? But maybe I’m overthinking…)

…so, yeah. Any thoughts/opinions on which option would be Best? (I may make a separate post asking the same question later, but figured I’d lay it all out here, too!)

Also, I’m working on a Secret Santa project, and probably not going to use OFLAM for SWBB, which means I need to come up with and write a different plotline of some kind, so back to the drawing board on that one…

Also also, I do genuinely plan to get Distaff off hiatus At Some Point, especially since I’ve gotten some new comments/responses lately…but given how much else I have on my plate, writing-wise, that probably won’t happen until next year, alas.

Anyway, the long and short of it is--lots of writing planned for this month! Now let’s see how much I actually get done XD

What about the rest of you? What’ve y’all been up to/what do you have planned for next month?

#coming attractions #miscellania #shadowsong writes star wars #shadowsong writes original fic #shadowsong writes crossovers #shadowsong writes self-indulgent bs #feedback greatly appreciated #our faces like a mirror #precipice verse #nano2019

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twobellsilence · 5 years

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Fanfic review #4 - “Close To You” by Hikaru

Next on the list is a multi-pairing piece (im starting to think platonic fics dont exist in this fandom why do i even bother anymore), which is apparently based on a drama called “Perfect Love”. This one has nine parts and each of them are quite long, so it took a while to finish. Now, the question is - was it worth it?

It honestly didn’t work that well for me, but I also think it depends on what you’re looking for.

For starters, this isn’t your usual GLAY (Jiro, Teru and Hisashi, Takuro is nowhere to be found) fic - it also features Die, Shinya and Toshiya from Dir en Grey, Ami and Yumi from PUFFY and even good old Sugizo. It’s quite an extensive cast of characters, but I’ll be covering that a bit later on. For now I want to focus on the single thing that really makes and breaks this story: the pacing.

Buckle up peeps, this is going to be a long one.

For the most part, the pacing of this goes so damn fast you’ll get whiplash. It’s especially bad on the first few chapters, where I found myself having to go back and re-read some parts again just to process what just happened. To give you an idea of how out of control it is, let me summarize the first couple of scenes - Jiro, a random IT guy, has a toothache, so his co-worker and friend Shinya recommends him a dentist, Teru. Jiro goes to Teru’s office, they meet, Teru does his thing, and at the end he tells Jiro a friend of his (Die) is going on vacation to Bali and invited him as well. Not only that, he also told him to bring over as many people as he wanted, so Teru invites Jiro to go with him and suggests inviting Shinya over as well. I guess Shinya makes sense, since it’s implied that Teru has known him for some time, but Teru literally just met Jiro. They’ve only been together for 30 minutes tops. Even then JIRO ACTUALLY ACCEPTS, and he also invites Shinya, who ends up accepting as well. For the record, Jiro does note that everything is extremely sudden, but he doesn’t give it that much thought afterwards. They pack THAT SAME NIGHT, and in the next scene they’re already in the airport along with Teru and Die. And all that isn’t even half of the chapter.

It is a trend in this entire thing - the plot moves so fast it’s difficult to keep up, and it doesn’t help that Jiro, the PROTAGONIST, is as flat as a piece of paper and does nothing significant to make the story go in a different direction. Really, he’s the least developed and most generic out of all the characters in this story. Another glaring issue is that characters make ridiculously bold moves basically as soon as they make eye contact, which gets very tiring very quickly. At the end of the story I was completely desensitized from any form of affection most of the characters showed because they’d kiss or fall in love or sleep with each other after literally anything - they just met? Deep kiss, maybe sneak into bed later. One helped the other? Now they’re in love. Really, there’s this entire subplot where Shinya tells Toshiya some things he wants to know about Jiro, and Toshiya KISSES HIM PASSIONATELY as a thank you. It is later on revealed that TOSHIYA REALLY LOVED SHINYA AT THAT MOMENT AND THAT’S WHY HE KISSED HIM, but he didn’t like him that way anymore and they weren’t together. In other words, TOSHIYA WAS UNIRONICALLY IN LOVE WITH SHINYA ONLY FOR AROUND 15 MINUTES. This is almost always played as a cheap way to build up tension between characters, but they’re all so volatile it doesn’t carry any weight and you end up just waiting for them to make up and kiss a couple of lines later. As an unrelated extra point, Sugizo (who is supposed to be Teru’s brother) is a complete a-hole for whatever reason, which is extremely strange when you consider Teru and Sugizo are pretty good friends irl and the story doesn’t seem to suggest they’d make up at some point. I’m really sorry you got treated like that, uncle Sug.

Thankfully, not all characters are like this, and some actually work pretty well with the erratic flow of the story, particularly Teru. He’s one of the most well-rounded people in the cast, with a decent enough backstory, a solid personality and actual motivations. He’s extremely impulsive, which is why I don’t have that much of a problem with his decision of inviting Jiro and Shinya to Bali after reading the entire fic - he did it without too much thought just because he found Jiro cute and attractive enough to help him forget about his failed relationship with Toshiya which, as ridiculous as it may seem, really makes sense for his character. He also grows as the story goes by, learning to leave Toshiya in the past and feeling guilty about using Jiro, with whom he ends up falling in love but tries to leave behind by using Ami in a similar fashion. It reaches a point where he finally begins to see that he can’t run away from his feelings or actions... Until the end, that is. Which is something I’m going to discuss later. Ami, although not as developed as Teru, is also a very good and consistent character, and it’s very easy to empathize with her.

Now, I must say the best character is Hisashi, hands down. He seems like an actual person with very real problems and very real struggles who just wants the best for his little brother (Jiro). His personality has depth and is quite likeable, and his actions are really in-character. You really feel for him, expecially with his backstory (which neatly ties into his actions and points of view) and the love story that comes in the final chapter and is probably the best part of this entire fanfic (barring how he kisses his lover the second after they meet for real, just like the other characters, but the rest is so well-crafted it’s actually forgivable). Sadly, his entire arc is thrown out of the window in the last part of the final chapter, just like Teru’s.

Really, the ending is what kills this fic for good. And it’s really sad, because it isn’t even the real ending. That’s right, this fic is actually unfinished; it has been like that for over a decade, and it will remain like that forever. Huh, that makes me incredibly nostalgic for some reason. Honestly, doing all these things, archiving old pages and reading old fanfiction and reading about the community back in the day makes me feel extremely sentimental, but that’s besides the point.

And it’s just so rushed. Yes, the fic has consistent pacing issues, but it was slowly improving, and I was actually starting to enjoy some of the dynamics like Die and Shinya’s relationship, Hisashi’s conflict with Jiro and Teru’s struggles with leaving Jiro behind. Heck, the last chapter started with Hisashi’s love story like I said before, and it was actually pretty damn solid. However, the last couple of scenes not only ruined Teru’s arc, it also completely butchered Hisashi’s character and caused the plot to go nyoom again. It’s, once more, a cheap way to create tension between characters and spawn a problem for Jiro, which not only is uneffective because Jiro is the character you’ll care the least about but also because it makes absolutely no sense in the context of what the story had shown us so far. Not going to spoil it in case you want to go read it (which nobody probably will, who even reads these posts anyway hfjdbhfgjdhbvjk), but it’s so ooc it’s actually frustrating. Maybe the author intended to fix it later on in the story, though. We’ll never know.

As you can see, this fic is very flawed and could annoy some readers, but it also has a fair share of good spots that could also endear others. It ultimately comes down to what you want out of it - if you're looking for a deep story with complex characters and strong, meaningful relationships, you may not be satisfied with the experience; on the other hand, if you just want lots of shipping and fanservice, you’ll appreciate it a lot more.

#Luke rants #Luke surfs the dead Geocities

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feynites · 5 years

Text

Scum Villain AU

Welp, fell down a rabbit hole of translations for novels written by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu, and my brain would not let go of the idea for a Scum Villain sharkbait AU. I blame @pyrrhy also for being a fantastic enabler.

So, this is a thing now! But first, on Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System, the general synopsis is that a book reviewer dies suddenly with his last thoughts being of how unsatisfied he was with the harem/stallion novel he just finished reading. He finds himself subsequently transported into the body of a minor ‘scum’ villain from said book, with the task of fixing/improving the story. Of course, the character he’s currently been cast as was, in the original novel, dismembered and killed by the protagonist.

In the interests of not having that happen, our intrepid hero immediately starts trying to suck up to the protagonist. He does a good job. In fact he does such a good job that the protagonist ends up falling in love with him, and therein lies the core of the story’s shenanigans.

If you wanna read the translations, it’s ongoing here at bc novels. For other works by the same author, there’s Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation (Mo Dao Zu Shi, which also has an animated series) over here at Exiled Rebels Scanlations, and Heaven’s Official Blessing is being translated here at Sakhyulations. Translating is hard work so if you read and enjoy any of ‘em, it’s nice to consider donating to the sites, too!

Some of the above stories definitely fall into problematic pitfalls of the slash genre, though. While I am a big fan of the pacing and storytelling Mo Xiang Tong Xiu pulls off and love her characters, I’ve been forewarned on some issues too. As I’m still reading my way through I can’t give my personal assessment on a lot of that stuff or offer more in-depth warnings for everything. But it should probably be mentioned.

Warnings For This Fic in Particular: At the outset of our story, Uthvir is underage. No romance is gonna take place while they are, but when they meet Thenvunin is an 18 year-old posing as their teacher, and Uthvir is 15. This is a slow burn. I also follow the original plot points of the story pretty closely but change up the order/direction of some things, too.

Additional Notes: In the original novel, the story that the lead character gets sucked into is a fantasy/cultivation novel hybrid with elements from a whole thwack of other genres, too. I’m leaning more heavily into the fantasy stuff because I don’t have much experience with cultivation novels, just for reference, but it should be noted that a lot of the story elements draw expressly from Chinese culture and I can take no credit for them - just in case anyone who’s totally new to these genres reads along. Also, I took some liberty with the names of things, because just throwing in Chinese words seemed unfitting and I’m not following the entire script on world-building elements. (Plus, in the novel, the story’s author is notoriously bad at naming things anyway.)

Alright, my apologies for the huge stack of notes/explanations! Please enjoy reading. The characters Calain and Jhe’andal (not seen in this chapter but bound to appear later) belong to @pyrrhy, who’s graciously loaned them to me so I can mess around.

“Stupid author, stupid novel!”

Thenvunin was not entirely surprised that those ended up being the last words he uttered in life. Though he is rather regretful about it. But at the time, processing the sudden failure of his ongoing health treatments had been harder than just fixating on the fact that, probably, the last book he was ever going to read in his life had been that terrible trainwreck of a harem fantasy novel.

That popular disaster of a book, ‘Immortal Demon Way’. With records broken on copies sold, but most critics more or less agreeing that it was mindless dreck. Except, the problem was, it wasn’t really ‘mindless’ dreck. There had been parts that were really promising. That was the real tragedy of the entire mess. The story had plenty of interesting side-characters and concepts, some intriguing world-building, even the promise of genuinely engaging content. But all of it had been tethered to a truly terrible main plotline. A black hole of a plot that managed to be boring and offensive by turns, even if the protagonist did manage to come across as somewhat compelling once in a blue moon.

Because ‘Immortal Demon Way’ was pure self-indulgent trash. The leading character, Uthvir, was one of those characters whose tragic life led them onto a dark path of retribution and conquest. Despite being pure-hearted in their youth, the constant mistreatment from people around them eventually blackened their heart, until they were the sort of person who wear a friendly smile while torturing a man to death. And naturally, over the course of the story, they managed to accumulate a truly massive harem, all filled with beautiful women. Even though the author - writing under an anonymous pen name of ‘Half-Demon Prince’, had come out and said that the character wasn’t exclusively attracted to women - that claim never manifested in the actual text. Which made the whole gesture feel quite performative.

Honestly, Thenvunin probably would have never picked up the book if he didn’t need to review it for the site he worked for. He’d never been fond of harem works, where the hero collects love interests like they’re filling up a basket of flowers. It had less to do with the numbers involved, and more to do with the sheer fact that more love interests usually meant less development on any particular relationship. Plus, inevitably, there would be scheming plotlines within the harem, and Thenvunin had never liked reading about women causing one another to miscarry or murdering each other’s babies to try and keep ahead in ranking. Luckily, ‘Immortal Demon Way’ hadn’t included a lot of such content, and what was there had been easy to skip. Enough so that Thenvunin had found himself speed-reading most of the ‘romantic’ parts. A sure sign of failure, given that romance was his actual preferred genre.

But yes, all in all, ‘Immortal Demon Way’ was one of those stories he would have been happy not to think about ever again. And instead, it had ended up being his last thought in life.

Well…

In his old life, at any rate.

But somehow, after he had died, he had found himself hearing an odd robot voice in his mind. Sort of like one of those automatic screen-readers.

W. ..what…?

“...What’s going on?” Thenvunin had asked.

The obvious question, really. He had felt panicked, or rather, like he should be panicked, but also like everything he could feel was very far away. Shock? He’d gone into shock before. It was a similar sensation, but not exact. But then again, there could be a lot of variables with that sort of thing. Everywhere around him just looked blurry, and pale. As if he was standing in a very modern office and wearing smudged glasses. He wondered if he’d survived after all, and if this latest disaster in his health had damaged his eyes so badly.

It was a chilling thought. Or, it should have been.

World? What world?

“I don’t understand,” Thenvunin said. “Am I in the hospital? Where’s my mother?”

That last question was perhaps more embarrassing than he would have liked, but it didn’t seem as if he was feeling embarrassment too keenly, either. And his mother always came whenever he was hospitalized. Thenvunin was only eighteen, and had been sick all of his life. Naturally, his mother worried a great deal about him, and the hospital staff knew to inform her whenever he had a serious incident.

Deceased…?

Thenvunin reeled, and even with his current level of detachment, struggled to process it all. He tried asking the “system” more questions, but none of them seemed to garner satisfactory answers. Asking who had created it didn’t get him anywhere. Nor did asking how it knew anything about him. Asking what this whole ‘Immortal Demon Way’ project was just prompt a repeat of the ‘story goals’ - it sounded like he was being moved into a story in order to fix it? Like a sort of virtual reality?

He had a great deal of trouble processing the whole concept.

But then, there didn’t seem to be anything for him to do but accept it in the end, either. It could all be a trick, but, Thenvunin did remember dying. Or something that felt close enough to it that he couldn’t bring himself to take that risk. He was afraid of dying; afraid enough that he could feel it, even as he drifted in that strange ‘waiting room’.

It was a feeling that followed him as he woke up in another strange room. But this time it was one he could see. His heart was hammering in his chest, and he felt like he had a terrible headache. The room around him definitely wasn’t a hospital, however. As he sat up, he could see sunlight streaming through several beautiful, open windows. The air smelled fresh, like the mountains he had visited once, before his father left. He sits up to find himself laid out in a comfortable bed, with a clothe on his brow, and a very light but comfortable robe on his body. The pale green fabric is the same colour as his eyes, but he only stares at it for a moment before his attention is arrested by something else.

His body.

Which is… definitely not his body.

There’s a curtain of long, wavy hair falling down past his shoulders. His chest is broad and… chiseled? How could he possibly have a chiseled chest? And his arms are muscular, and long, and utterly devoid of the scars he had gotten from his car crash eight months ago, when he had tried to drive himself to the hospital and veered into a lamppost instead. Thenvunin is almost too shocked to move, but after a moment, he finds himself hurriedly pushing back the blankets and looking at the rest.

His legs - !

His legs look… they look good! Moreover, as he moves, he’s startled to realize that he doesn’t feel any pain. None at all, apart from his headache. Under other circumstances he would assume he was on some heavy painkillers, but obviously, this might not even be the case? He moves his legs and marvels at the ease of it, swivels his hips and feels nothing, and after a minute he cannot help but leap out of bed and begin jumping around, amazed and entranced…

…And more than a little disconcerted. This body is totally, completely different from his own. He looks down at it and intellectually knows that he’s inside of it, but it scarcely feels that way. After a few minutes of either celebrating or panicking, or possibly both, Thenvunin finally locates a full-body mirror next to a dressing station in one corner of the room.

He stares uncomprehendingly at himself.

His eyes are the same, and his hair is the same - if somewhat longer, he thinks - and there’s a certain congruity between his facial features. But the man staring back at him is undeniably, completely different. He looks both strong and elegant, somehow. More muscular than Thenvunin would have ever idealized himself as, but the strength in those muscles is making him feel slightly giddy as he moves. And he’s tall. He’s not stooping over in the least, not struggling to keep his shoulders straight, feeling no pain from his surprisingly trim waistline…

It can’t be him!

He’s still trying to reconcile the idea when he realizes he has no clue who this character is, either. From the system, he gathered that he was going to be transported into an existing character’s body. But there are a few who might match the description of this one, and even more who were mostly undescribed. The only thing he knows for certain is that he is not Uthvir; they would not be so tall.

Right?

System, who am I supposed to be?

He freezes in place, at the sound of the response which he can somehow tell is purely in his own mind.

Did the system just call him a virgin…?

How would it know?!

Although it seemed to know everything. Thenvunin paused in embarrassment, before the rest of the message finally registered. His character is Thenevunin Thenerassan…?

Wait, ‘Thenerassan’? That villain? The corrupt instructor who was always taking time to abuse and harass Uthvir, when they were still young and full of hope for the future? He’d never even realized the character had a first name! Though admittedly, he hadn’t read all of the author’s shared notes and ‘tidbits’ on social media. For a moment he is thoroughly offended. How dare this horrible character share his name!

And then he remembers.

Thenerassan…

Thenerassan dies in this story!

And not peacefully, oh no. After years of abusing Uthvir and then finally betraying them utterly at the grand tournament, the hero comes back seeking vengeance, with their heart blackened and ruthless. They utterly decimate Thenerassan’s reputation, until there is no one on earth who would pity him, and eventually end up taking him prisoner. Then they cut off his limbs, one by one, and blind him, and use their demonic blood to torture him until he can finally take no more and expires.

And Thenvunin himself had once visited the story’s forums to express disappointment that this character wasn’t castrated, too. Considering everything he had done.

He feels faint, going white as a sheet while he stares in the mirror. So consumed with terror that he doesn’t even hear the door to the room opening.

“Brother?” an unfamiliar voice calls.

Thenvunin whips his head around, and freezes in place. A new kind of fear gripping him, as he looks at this unfamiliar person. Presumably a character in the story. For half a heartbeat, he’s almost afraid that it’s Uthvir, come to drag him off for torture and death. But then his mind catches up with him. No, this is… that wouldn’t be right. This place, based on the descriptions, must be Thenerassan’s chambers on Quiet Peak temple. The author of ‘Immortal Demon Way’ had only very loosely followed the structure of a ‘cultivation’ novel, taking grand liberties with the various stages and processes of most established works. The Peaks, as he recalled, were little more than supernatural stomping grounds; like elite clubs for people who had attained immortality through cultivating their internal energies, and becoming incredible fighters.

If he is at Quiet Peak, then he mustn’t be at a point in the story where this character has been ruined, yet. But that’s only one relief; he still finds himself looking at a concerned face he doesn’t recognize.

“...Yes?” he finally ventures.

The stranger comes into the room. He is a man. Handsome. Long dark hair, pretty brown eyes, middle-dark complexion. He could be any number of a dozen characters, really, but Thenvunin supposes he could narrow it down to the ones populating Quiet Peak. It was an early part of the story, so one he remembers fairly well.

Before he can latch onto a guess, though, the stranger pauses and gives him an assessing look.

“Are you feeling better?” he asks. “Your disciples said you collapsed out of nowhere on the practice fields. Compassion took a look at you but couldn’t see any problem, either with your health or internal mystic energies. She advised that we let you rest…”

“Ah,” Thenvunin says. “Um. Well. Yes, I… fainted.”

The stranger raises an eyebrow.

“You fainted? Have you been neglecting yourself in some way, brother?” he asks. He seems cordial enough, which further limits the possibilities for who he could be. Dark hair, brown eyes, friendly enough to check in on the unlikable Thenerassan’s health…

“...Venavismi?” he ventures.

The man blinks.

“Yes?” he asks.

Oh thank goodness.

“I. Um. I seem to be… not feeling well…” he says. It feels like an odd thing to say, since technically speaking, he doesn’t think he’s ever felt so well before in his life. He almost jumps out of his skin when he hears a soft ‘bing’ inside his head, though.

<Warning: Impending Out of Character Behaviour Alert. Current Participant has OOC Restriction Locks still in place. OOC Restriction Locks can be removed once Achievement: Character Development has been obtained.>

Thenvunin freezes in place again.

What?

What are OOC Restriction Locks?!

Meaning… if he behaves out of character, he’ll be penalized?

But Thenerassan is a monster! Thenvunin can’t act like that. It would be beyond the pale! And besides, how can he possibly change anything in this story if he has to act like an amoral reprobate the entire time? No, wait. There was more, wasn’t there?

What’s ‘Achievement: Character Development’?

What?! How am I supposed to do that, I’m nothing like that wretch!

Thenvunin is still in the process of thinking furiously in his mind when Venavismi seems to decide that he must be rattled. He’s accustomed enough to being handled by nurses that being steered back towards his bed barely registers in his mind, until he finds himself being settled onto the mattress again.

“...more rest, brother,” Venavismi is saying, genially. He seems to be about as nice as the impression his character gave off, in the story. Thenvunin always felt rather badly about his death. Which… he suddenly recalls, was Thenerassan’s fault. Retaliating in a fury after the accusations against him had landed, he had killed the first people who attempted to apprehend him, only for Uthvir to swoop in and put a stop to him. One of them had been Venavismi. Decapitated, as he recalls…

He feels an inexplicable rush of shame. Not that he’s responsible for Thenerassan’s actions, but, well…

“Thank you,” he says. “You are a very upright person, Venavismi, even if you can make terrible jokes sometimes.”

What? Just for saying ‘thank you’?!

<Character: Thenerassan would not thank Venavismi without ulterior motive. -5 Deduction. Character: Thenerassan would not compliment Venavismi without ulterior motive. -5 Deduction. Character: Thenerassan would also not display weakness in front of a potential rival. -5 Deduction. Deductions reduced by 50% due to mitigating factor: Plausible Disorientation.>

Internally, Thenvunin fumes. Plausible?! He is most certainly disoriented, of course he is!

But Venavismi does look very surprised.

“Um. Thank you, brother…?” he ventures. “I think I had better get another healer to attend to you. Do you remember hitting your head on anything when you collapsed?”

“Of course not, I don’t even remember collapsing!” Thenvunin snaps, flustered and unhappy with having lost points. Even though he doesn’t know what the points mean. He lets Venavismi bow his way out of the room, the atmosphere awkward and disconcerting, and then finally just drops his head into his hands.

What do all these points even mean, System?

…Yes. Yes, I would, if that will explain this whole confusing mess!

<Beginner’s Tips have been activated! Additional Mode: Character File Recognition has also been activated. New characters will now appear with their names provided by the system, in the event that Character: Thenerassan would be able to recognize them. For a cost of an additional 100 points, Easy Mode may be activated. Warning: current point levels insufficient to make payment. Regarding point system: actions furthering project goals generate points. Lock violations or insufficient story progress will incur penalties. Negative point status will result in Participant’s ejection from the project.>

Ejection from the project…?

In other words, then, if his points go into the negatives, he’ll be sent back home.

Where he’s… dead.

And what happens if I die during the course of this project? He wonders, thinking of the chilling prospect of Thenerassan’s canonical fate.

Death of the Participant will result in ejection from the project.

So… death, again.

Thenvunin lets out a shaky breath.

He would… yes, he would definitely rather avoid that, all things considered. But by the time a healer - whose name Thenerassan apparently would not have bothered to know - comes to his chambers, he doesn’t feel much closer to regaining his equilibrium.

Thenvunin takes an entire day to rest from his ‘mysterious illness’. In the evening, one of his disciples comes with something more substantial for him to eat. Desire, or ‘Squish’, as the narrative had nicknamed her. She is a pleasant girl, and a teenager, though how old she exactly is would depend on when he’s arrived on this scene. Assuming it’s prior to Uthvir’s descent into hell, she could be anywhere between fourteen and nineteen. Thenerassan - the original - had lusted after this girl, behaving inappropriately the entire time. Seeing the girl come into his rooms, Thenvunin is appalled twice-over by that particular story element. Here Thenerassan was supposed to be her mentor, but he had scarcely seemed to teach her anything except that authority figures weren’t to be trusted! And then she had joined Uthvir’s harem, all full of scandals and intrigue, and… admittedly, Thenvunin had rather lost track of her character after that.

He didn’t recall her has terribly complex. Mostly just sweet, and devoted, a simple ‘childhood friend’ style love-interest. Though he’s surprised when she comes in, and he notices that she lacks the typical ‘dainty’ appearance of such a girl. Instead she is heavy-set and… well, fat. With a round face and broad nose, and a tumble of curly dark hair. She is still quite beautiful, and obviously more than strong enough to handle the training at the peak, but Thenvunin doesn’t recall imagining her this way at all from her description.

Then again, Half-Demon Prince, the author, hadn’t been as typically prone to describing the female characters’ measurements and ‘charms’ as most writers in the genre. There had been a lot of fanart… perhaps the standard interpretation of this character was based more on a popular fanartist’s work, than on all the possibilities contained in her description?

But then, why should the ‘project’ choose an atypical interpretation, rather than the most common one?

He supposes that all has to do with how the system even works, and on that front, it has remained entirely silent.

“Teacher, will this meal do?” Squish asks him. Respectful, but a little distant.

It suddenly strikes Thenvunin - Squish was Uthvir’s only childhood friend. The protagonist. If he is to survive this ordeal, it seems absolutely paramount that Uthvir not want to kill him.

“This meal is fine,” he says, with a dismissive wave of his hand. He focuses intently on Squish’s face. “Tell me, how old are you this year?”

For a moment, he’s almost afraid that the system will tell him that was out-of-character. But it remains silent, and Squish’s expression turns somewhat reluctant.

“Sixteen,” she tells him.

Sixteen… which makes Uthvir fifteen. Three years. Thenvunin has three years to undo Uthvir’s hatred of him. But this also means that Uthvir has already spent two years around the Original Thenerassan. Being bullied, being starved, being beaten, being left out in the cold… Thenvunin pales at the thought of all the rampant child abuse. His only, minor consolation is that Thenerassan hadn’t liked to dirty his own hands. He had preferred to simply encourage the other disciples’ bullying, or to dole out punishments that simply resulted in Uthvir’s misfortune, by doing things like handing out complicated assignments too close to curfew. The other Thenerassan had been concerned with appearances, at least, and the reputation of his sect. It was probably the only reason why he hadn’t just immediately tossed his poor disciple off the mountain.

“My parents have said that they will outright refuse all petitions for my hand until I am twenty,” Squish says, jarring Thenvunin out of his thoughts.

He blinks at her.

“Sensible of them,” he replies.

Oh, for-!

He doesn’t bother to ask what that is about, realizing in a rush of nausea that this interaction must seem like he is digging into his student’s personal business to figure out if he can browbeat her family into handing her over to him. What a sick man the original truly was! He has to fight the urge to clarify things, knowing it will only cost him at the moment.

How many points do I have left? He wonders.

He isn’t entirely addressing the system, but it answers for him anyway.

Since he got here, he’s only managed to lose points…

Squish stares mildly back at him. He lets out a breath.

“Do you know where Disciple Uthvir is?” he asks, attempting to sound as neutral as possible. Neutral cannot really be out of character, right? If Thenerassan was always spitting furious every time he mentioned Uthvir’s name, surely the other mentors at the peak would have had to notice?

Thankfully, that assessment seems correct, as there is no warning or ‘ding’.

Squish’s expression turns wary.

“They’re still doing the tasks you assigned them this morning,” she replies. “They’ve been working as hard as they can.”

Thenvunin purses his lips. Scowling, but not at his student; he’s just trying to figure out how he can start to repair things, when one of the most concrete aspects of Thenerassan’s character was his ardent hatred of all things Uthvir.

“Send them here,” he decides.

<Warning->

How can it be OOC? This is entirely self-serving! He argues. If I don’t get on Uthvir’s good side, I’ll die horribly. If the original Thenerassan knew that, don’t you think he’d start being nicer, too?

Thenvunin swallows.

The food on the lovely tray in front of him makes him slightly nauseous. Squish looks suspicious, but after a moment, she can only nod obediently and leave to go get Uthvir. She looks as though she might say something to him, for a moment. But after a moment passes, she only shakes her head, and then leaves.

So now he needs to think of something that the original Thenerassan would do, that will put a stop to all these abuses - or at least, begin to - without losing him any further points. He has no idea how difficult it will be to regain points, since he hasn’t gained any so far. And that ‘Easy Mode’ that the system mentioned before seems like the sort of thing he might like to unlock, but he’s definitely not going to do so when it will bring his point total remotely close to 'zero'.

By the time Uthvir shows up, the food has gone cold, but Thenvunin thinks he might have happened on a solution. He has moved from his rest bed to his desk, unable to sit still. But he finds himself somewhat frozen again when he finally sees them.

Uthvir.

The terrible demonic tyrant who will eventually slaughter hundreds. Who will build a massive harem of beautiful lovers, all vying for their affections. The sharp, dangerous, deadly protagonist of ‘Immortal Demon Way’.

…But, they’re just a child.

Or a teenager, but Thenvunin’s a legal adult and feels very adult compared to the tiny figure who walks into his chambers. They’ve cut their hair, he notes. He forgets what age they did that at in the story, but thinking on it, it probably wasn’t long after they arrived on the peak. Their uniform is ill-fitting but clean, pulled from standard storage. They have large, red eyes, and soft features. Really, they look younger than fifteen.

But what catches most of his attention is the large blemish on the top of their cheek, and the ugly cut at the corner of their jaw.

Thenvunin stares at them while they shift in place. Waiting to see what kind of torment he has in store for them, no doubt.

I can’t do this. How can I be cruel to a child?

<Warning: Impending Out of Character Behaviour Alert.>

After a moment, Thenvunin clears his throat, and reminds himself of his plan. He makes certain his features retain a cold look, with great effort, as he reaches into a pocket of his robes, and retrieves a little jar of healing salve that the healer left with him. Uthvir’s wary expression does not abate as he tosses it to them; but with their reflexes, of course they catch it.

“It is disgraceful for one of my disciples to go around looking like that,” he declares, lifting his chin and pursing his lips to keep from saying anything else. Poor thing, poor thing, oh you poor little thing… “From now on, there will be no more transgressions to call my good character and teaching into question.”

Uthvir seems to pale at his assertions.

“Teacher,” they say, hurriedly. “Please don’t turn me out. I swear, I will not - I will not provoke them anymore. I know I have been slow at learning how not to, but I think I have made progress... I will redouble my efforts! Please, I have nowhere else to go...”

Thenvunin frowns at their fright, before realizing that Uthvir does not recognize what the healing salve is; they probably think he’s conjuring up an excuse to kick them out of the sect. But even Thenerassan couldn’t really do that - despite his best efforts, Uthvir’s acceptance onto the mountain was the doing of Mana’Din, the Peak Leader.

“Don’t be foolish,” he snaps, and they fall immediately silent. “Do you not even know what a healing salve looks like?”

The OOC Warning remains mercifully silent, but Thenvunin feels like he is dying on the inside.

Uthvir stares uncomprehendingly down at the little jar he gave them.

“This… is healing salve?”

They don’t even know what it looks like! I can smell it from here, but they’re clueless?! They’ve never seen it before?!

Come to that, Thenvunin hadn’t seen it before, either. But apparently he still has some sense memories from the Original… which would also explain why his coordination isn’t completely shot, even if he still feels like a ghost sitting in someone else’s body.

Uthvir doesn’t have the excuse of transporting themselves between worlds, though. They should know what a salve smells like even better than he does. Or they would, if Half-Demon Prince hadn’t given them such a reprehensibly deprived childhood. The realization makes his heart crack in half.

“I expect you to use it,” he says.

He braces himself…

At the ominous ‘ding’ in his mind he nearly dies inside; but to his surprise, the system’s tone isn’t its usual ‘points deducted’ one. It takes him a moment to really register what it’s saying.

<Congratulations! Points toward Achievement: Character Development earned, +10.>

...How many points do I need to get the achievement?

<Beginner’s Tip: Achievements are unlocked at 100 points gained, determined from the moment achievement challenge is set..>

That’s… that’s not so bad, actually. Thenvunin would almost feel good about it, if he hadn’t just been unreasonably cold and cruel to an injured teenager.

...He's going to have to do this at least ten more times. He takes it back, this is terrible.

But Uthvir looks uncomprehendingly at the salve for a moment longer. Before they seem to remember that they’re in the same room as their villainous instructor, and then quickly drop into a bow.

“Thank you, Teacher,” they say.

“Hmph,” Thenvunin replies. “You can go.”

Uthvir doesn’t waste any time in getting away, probably grateful to escape without having something unpleasant happen to them. Once they’re gone, Thenvunin drops back onto his bed, and puts his face into his hands. His shoulders shake, as tears begin to form in his eyes, and spill through the cracks of his fingers.

It’s just a story, he tells himself. Even if it’s different to experience it firsthand, all these people are just characters in a book. It’s not really real.

Is it?

Thenvunin manages to knock his point totals down to 65 before he finally begins to feel confident in manipulating the OOC Locks. Though he still hasn’t managed to earn any new points, he’s figured out some things about the system, and how they seem to be lost.

For one thing, witnesses are required. Thenvunin can do any number of out-of-character things in private, but the system will only notify him of a ‘ding’ if there’s someone present to see it. Which is a good thing, because Thenvunin finds himself breaking down in private quite a bit. The system will also generally warn him if there’s someone liable to witness his out-of-character moments - and whatever else might be said, he does appreciate that. Particularly when he’s been weeping in his rooms, and one of his disciples or another immortal from the peak is on their way to find him.

It’s not that he’s thoroughly miserable, though. It’s just a lot to take in.

Quiet Peak is a really beautiful place. Thenvunin doesn’t think he’s ever been anywhere so lovely before in his life. The peak is situated in a long chain of mystical mountains, and is one of several sacred peaks where spiritualists who have achieved immortality live and congregate. It’s a place replete with nature. Thenvunin’s home is one of several small buildings - almost a village unto itself - situated around a large main temple. It’s summer when he arrives, so the air is clear and warm, with the occasional cool breeze whirling its way around the mountain paths. Lots of small animals fill up the natural spaces of the area. Birds and rodents, foxes and stranger, more fantastical creatures from Half-Demon Prince’s imagination, like Phantom Lemurs and wolves made of branches and vines, held together by ambient nature energy.

To a normal person, some of the animals would probably be quite dangerous. But Thenvunin’s body, as he ascertains, is more than just fit and healthy. He seems to have all the supernatural powers of the immortals in the story. Along with a mystical sword that the original Thenerassed would have pulled from the peak, a blade that was manifested from his own innate energies.

Thenerassan - or rather, Half-Demon Prince - had called the blade ‘Swan’s Grace’. It’s one decision of the old Thenerassan’s that Thenvunin doesn’t mind. The name seems to suit the sword, which rests easily in his grasp, even though he’s never held a sword before in his life. It’s a beautiful thing. Pale and elegant, with a white handle, and a purple tassel tied with enchanted beads that help bolster spiritual energy.

It’s one thing for Thenvunin to know that his body seems to remember how to do some things, though, and another for him to really feel comfortable doing them. The more Thenvunin thinks about upcoming events, the more he finds himself sweating under his collar. There are battles to be fought. Actual battles. Situations where making even the tiniest slip-up could result in death. Thenvunin doesn’t think it’s enough to simply rely on his reflexes, reflexes can’t provide strategies or help him think his way through more complicated situations, or really decide how to apply the skills that he - apparently - now has.

So, when the Peak Leader, Mana’Din, comes to investigate his ‘recovery’ from his mysterious illness, Thenvunin doesn’t waste much time before requesting access to some of the secluded mountain caves that are used for those attempting higher levels of cultivation. Or attempting to regain spiritual equilibrium. He remembers the caves from the books; they were frequently mentioned, and Uthvir even retreated to them on occasion, when a difficult battle had depleted their strength.

Mana’Din is, like Squish, quite different from what Thenvunin had expected, but still well within the bounds of her character description. The Peak Leader is a petite woman, dark-skinned and placid in her countenance. She wears a white half-mask, and an elegant white robe, and regards Thenvunin with what seems to be genuine concern. Almost immediately, he likes her. Though sensing the amount of energy contained within her aura is somewhat disconcerting; Peak Leaders are very strong, of course. Mana’Din is no exception.

In the original story, she was yet another character who died at Uthvir’s hands. Though, more tragically than the original Thenerassan. Uthvir had challenged her for control of the peak. Mana’Din had fought gallantly, but in the end, after all that had led to that moment, the peak’s forces were so weakened that she was no match for a full-powered and determined Uthvir. She as one of the few female characters in the story who actually died, rather than simply falling into Uthvir’s harem after being defeated. Some readers had been quite unhappy about that.

As he invites her to take his morning tea with him, Thenvunin feels another pang of inexplicable guilt. The original Thenerassan’s machinations were a huge component to the weakening of the peak - and to Mana’Din’s inevitable downfall.

“Venavismi told me about your collapse. I came to check on you while you were still unconscious. Forgive me, I would have come to check as soon as you woke, but preparations in the valley took longer than expected.”

Preparations in the…?

Oh! Thenvunin’s pleased to realize that he actually knows what Mana’Din is referring to. The tournament, still scheduled a few years from now, will take place in the valley south of Quiet Peak. Because of the potential dangers of the event, the Peak Lords themselves oversee all the preparations, creating shields and checking the security, and making certain that all possible precautions can be taken. It’s a long endeavour, which is why tournaments are not held more frequently. As an expert in placing barriers, Mana’Din’s skills in particular would be required.

The thought of how badly the tournament still goes puts another twinge of guilt in Thenvunin. He has to bite his tongue to keep from mentioning that extra security will most definitely be needed.

“Are things going well?” he asks, instead.

Mana’Din waves dismissively.

“Of course,” she says. “I’m more concerned over you. I don’t know whether it’s good news or bad news that the healers seem baffled by what’s happened. Do you think it was some sort of attack?”

Thenvunin clears his throat, and shakes his head.

“It did not seem that way to me, though it was… disconcerting,” he replies. Lifting his tea cup, he takes a slow sip. The warm liquid helps to settle his nerves a little, as he prepares his rehearsed lines. “My concern is for the equilibrium of my internal energies. Healers may not notice everything on such a front. If my leader is willing, I would like to retreat to the Secluded Caves, to better attune myself to what may be going on within my body.”

He braces himself. But fortunately, Thenerassan had generally worn a mask of courtesy around his leader; there is no ‘ding’.

Mana’Din makes a contemplative sound, and then inclines her head.

“If you think that would help, then certainly,” she says. “I will gladly open the caves to you. But do you think there is a chance you could unbalance your energies? You should not be left to go alone, in that case.”

Mana’Din is blunt. Thenerassan would have taken offense at the implication that he could unbalance his own energies via meditation, but Thenvunin can only see genuine concern in her expression. Spiritual unbalancing is very dangerous. It can lead to explosive and self-destructive behaviour, as well as lashing out. Left unchecked, it can, as he recalls, cause madness, permanently damage an immortal’s abilities, or even lead to death. And while the original Thenerassan may have been an immortal of indeterminate age, who was very accustomed to cultivating his internal energies, Thenvunin himself is… not.

However, his inexperience could be glaringly obvious to any witnesses who see him try to practice. And if people start to become suspicious, then it could lead to his discovery as an intruder, and then the dreaded ‘project reset’.

Thenvunin’s not sure what the bigger risk is. He hesitates.

Mana’Din seems to read his silence as offense. She lifts a hand.

“Please don’t mistake my concern for doubt. This is a mysterious situation, so, taking some exceptional precautions may be wise,” she tells him. When Thenvunin hesitates again, she purses her lips, and taps the side of her teacup. “Perhaps a compromise? There are certain segments of the cave system that are more open than others. Many of Battle Peak’s disciples are currently using them in early preparation for the tournament. In the event of some calamity, being in that system would probably make it easier to find help, rather than simply using the more traditional caves allotted to our peak…”

The original Thenerassan would have found such a suggestion offensive, Thenvunin thinks again. But would he have protested to his leader? Complaining might seem uglier than just capitulating, or even taking advantage of the situation. Something niggles at the back of his memory. Something about Thenerassan and the caves and Battle Peak… but he doesn’t have a lot of time to dwell on it, as Mana’Din looks at him expectantly.

He puts on a tight smile.

“I suppose, under the circumstances, that would be reasonable,” he concedes.

Mana’Din relaxes a little, and offers him a more genuine smile in return.

“That’s a relief. I’ll worry a little less, now,” she approves. Nothing dings. Thenvunin lets out a silent breath, and sips more of his tea.

Really, Thenvunin can’t help but think. How did it escape your notice that the original Thenerassan wouldn’t have been worth worrying about to begin with?

He doesn’t ask that out loud, though, of course. Despite his repugnant nature, the original Thenerassan currently retains a spotless reputation, marred only by occasion rumours of his ‘harsh’ teaching methods. And that reputation is currently very useful to Thenvunin, who is not looking to ruin it by being an actual child-abusing monster. Even if the system is making that challenging for him.

Mana’Din tells him he can set out for the caves in a few days’ time, after she has established things with Battle Peak. That’s a good development, he thinks, but it still leaves the matter of Uthvir up in the air.

While Thenvunin has been doing what he can to try and mitigate the bullying going on, it’s an uphill battle with the OOC Locks tying his hands. The original Thenerassan had a lot of disciples, though, as Thenvunin recalls, most of them will die as cannon fodder during the tournament. The thought makes him sick to his stomach. Even if they’re mostly a gang of bullies, barring Squish and Uthvir, they’re still children. Well, teenagers. And they’re following the lead set for them by their teacher. Thenvunin is a bit lost at sea on what to do about it all. However, he knows for certain that if he leaves things just as they are, with the senior disciples in charge, it won’t go well for Uthvir.

The trouble is figuring out how he can mitigate that without breaking character.

He’s still turning the matter over in his thoughts later the same day, when he finally decides that, caves or no, he needs to get some practice in.

Despite his lingering troubles with adjusting to having a totally new body, the fact that he actually has energy and a shocking absence of pain keeps making him antsy. All the beautiful nature around him, the strength in his limbs, the air in his lungs, it makes him want to do things. His fingers itch to see what the sword at his belt can do. His heart speeds up at the thought of actually being a warrior, a guardian, someone who can fight and protect people and be gallant and strong. The giddiness he feels over it is even enough to push back his worries about dying, and he finds he doesn’t feel any guilt at all in basically stealing all of these things from the original Thenerassan.

With all that in mind, Thenvunin sets out before evening to find a more secluded spot on the mountain. He has to travel for a while to do it, heading down and into the woods, with Swan’s Grace on his person. The sword feels light, and he finds he often notices its absence more than its presence. He wears green robes that blend in with the pale leaves of the willowy trees that grown in the region, and passes over a woodland stream, before finally finding a good spot.

After triple-checking to make certain that he’s alone, Thenvunin draws his sword, and takes a deep breath.

He swings it.

It slices elegantly through the air.

Another swing. His body remembers motions that Thenvunin has never made before, and after a few more attempts, he finds himself falling into patterns that feel natural. Sword-fighting forms. He pays attention to the way his body moves, or tries to. But it’s exhilarating enough that he soon finds himself distracted by the sheer joy of it all. Swan’s Grace sings, metal through wind, and as his spirits rise Thenvunin finds flurries of air whip up around him. The original Thenerassan was strongly attuned to the wind element. It seems Thenvunin is, too, as the gusts of wind follow his movements, and make the fallen leaves around him dance.

He is so enraptured, he never even notices the tiny figure who stumbles upon him. Arms burdened with firewood, eyes wide as they see their teacher practicing his forms.

Uthvir freezes in place and stares dumbfounded for a moment.

They have seen Master Thenerassan demonstrate techniques before, of course, but such demonstrations have tended to be very simple and mechanical so far. Put your feet here, hold your practice sword like this, sit this way, don’t move like that, and so on and so forth. They have yet to actually see their instructor fight - and of course, they still haven’t. But as they watch, they feel a sudden insight as to what that might look like, and it seems somehow wholly unexpected.

If they ever had to guess, Uthvir would never suppose that Master Thenerassan’s techniques were so… so…

Lovely?

They feel almost like a voyeur, somehow. As if they have stumbled upon the man bathing rather than practicing. The most shocking thing is probably the look on his face, though. From their angle Uthvir can only see part of it, but it seems as if Master Thenerassan is smiling. Smiling as he dances with the wind and strikes out with his sword, moving through forms so complex that Uthvir can only even recognize half of them.

Something in their chest aches with longing.

They want to be that graceful, and powerful. They want to be a master who can rely on their own strength.

They watch, fascinated, until it starts to occur to them that if Master Thenerassan is out practicing in the wilderness by himself, he probably doesn’t want to be seen. Maybe there are some secret techniques that he’s doing? Uthvir’s fear of getting in trouble gradually starts to overcome their interest, and they pull back, retreating the same way they came by and being careful to walk in the footprints they already made, to avoid stepping on twigs or crunching leaves. Every once in a while they glance back, unable to help themselves until Thenerassan is finally out of sight. Then they resolutely keep going, as their heart hammers excitedly in their chest.

They feel as though they have just gotten away with some kind of mischief. Even though, taken at face value, they don’t even know what they mischief would qualify as.

Master Thenerassan could probably enlighten them if he actually caught them, though. And probably assign them even more chores as punishment. Sneering at them from behind his fan.

Although… he seems to be more patient with Uthvir than usual, these days. Maybe Uthvir is actually making fewer mistakes? They’ve found the thought very heartening, even if the other disciples still seem to hate them as much as ever. Except for Squish, of course. Master Thenerassan gave her a new training manual the other day, and she promised to let Uthvir look at it, too. They were going to go this evening, but then Elandaris cornered them and told them to go find firewood.

A lot of the older students shirk their chores onto Uthvir. At first, they’d hoped doing things would be a good way to make friends, but it seems they’re always doing them wrong. Uthvir’s not entirely clueless, although sometimes it feels as though they are. They like to think that it’s the amnesia at fault. The first thing they can recall in life is running, confused, out into the road in one of the southern cities, and nearly falling straight into Lady Mana’Din. They don’t even know how they came by their amnesia; they were first brought to Quiet Peak as a mystery to solve, rather than a disciple to train. The only belonging of any real value that they can claim is the necklace they were wearing at the time Lady Mana’Din found them.

Uthvir never takes it off. They’re deathly afraid of having it stolen. The simple leather cord it’s on is nothing special, but the amber-gold stone, rough and uncut, always feels a little warm against their skin. Lady Mana’Din thinks it might be a Spirit Shard. The only other person they’ve ever shown it to is Squish, and she likes it a lot, too. Uthvir knows she’d be thrilled if they gave it to her, but they can’t bring themselves to part with it. Even if they don’t know why, it’s… theirs.

As if drawn to the current of their thoughts, the necklace in question slides out from under their over-sized collar. Uthvir pauses, shifting the firewood in their arms so that they can reach up and tuck it away again.

“Hey!”

They look up, startled, at the sound of an unwelcome voice.

Elandaris!

Hastily, Uthvir finishes shoving their treasure away again, and takes a wary step backwards. They nearly lose their balance, burdened with the firewood in their arms. Elandaris seems to be alone; they don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

“I’ve nearly finished,” they say.

“Took you long enough,” Elandaris replies, marching determinedly towards them. He points at their chest. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?” Uthvir asks, playing dumb. “The branches…?”

Before they can react, Elandaris reaches out, whip-fast, and yanks the piece of cord around their neck. Uthvir fumbles and their treasure pops back out of their collar, as their heart speeds up.

Oh no!

The older boy’s expression twists in a mix of anger and triumph as he reaches for the spirit shard. Uthvir manages to whirl away in earnest then, though, dropping the firewood they’re carrying. To their horror, the branches and logs fall directly onto Elandaris’ feet.

A disciple of Elandaris’ level isn’t going to be as fragile as most mortals, so Elandaris is at little risk of having his foot bones broken. But that doesn’t mean it’s not still a painful thing to have an armload of wood dropped right onto his shoes.

“I’m sorry!” Uthvir immediately exclaims. Elandaris reels back, cursing, before his face twists in anger and he lashes out and punches Uthvir clean across the face.

The force behind the blow is more than enough to send them staggering.

“You clumsy oaf!” Elandaris exclaims. “How dare you! You could have injured my feet. That would set my training back. Are you trying to sabotage me?!”

“No!” Uthvir assures him, spreading out their hands. “No, of course not! I would never! It was an accident, you grabbed me and-”

“Clumsy piece of shit!” Elandaris accuses again. “Either you did that on purpose, or you are a waste of training! Come back here!”

Uthvir’s attempts to move further away are thwarted by Elandaris grabbing them. They try and counter his grip, but the older student is faster, and pulls at their treasure instead.

“And where did you get this?” he demands.

“It’s mine!” Uthvir insists, reflexively.

“Yours? Where would you get a spirit shard?” Elandaris demands. “Even a cheap-looking one like this should be beyond the means of a beggar’s child like you. And don’t tell me someone gave it to you! I know no one would. You have no coin and you have no friends, so the only answer is that you stole it.”

“I didn’t steal it!”

Elandaris hits them in punishment. Uthvir knows they shouldn’t argue, but this is their treasure. If Elandaris thinks they stole it then he’ll take it away.

“I didn’t steal it!” they insist, through the pain. “It’s always been mine, it was found with me, Lady Mana’Din knows!”

“Liar!” Elandaris accuses. He tugs at the cord, and Uthvir struggles back. A few well-placed kicks send them falling backwards, though. Despite their efforts to train their skills, the extra chores that are always being given to them take up most of the time they would spend practicing. They are behind; they know it. And they don’t have much recourse, though their heart lurches in pure alarm as they feel the ties on their leather cord finally give out.

Elandaris seizes their treasure.

Uthvir falls down, and trips over the dropped firewood.

“No!” they protest, scrambling to get back up. “It’s mine, it’s not-”

“Shut up, you little liar!” Elandaris snaps back, and lands a kick against their stomach. Uthvir grabs his leg, too desperate to back down. They scramble to try and reclaim their necklace. The defiance makes Elandaris even more furious, however, and after a moment they are both rolling through the undergrowth. Uthvir loses track of where their treasure even is, if it’s been dropped or if the older student still has it, as Elandaris gets them pinned and begins pummeling them.

“How dare you!” he snarls. “You sneaky little thief!”

Uthvir tries to cover their face, finally going purely on the defensive. They brace themselves for the beating.

But Elandaris only lands a few uncoordinated hits before he suddenly stops; crying out in pain.

Bewildered, Uthvir risk looking again.

Elandaris is holding his hands up. But there is a large, crimson gash on the back of one of his wrists.

“How did you do that?” he demands, shocked at the sight of his own blood. “Did you stab me?!”

Uthvir swiftly shakes their head.

“How could I?” they ask.

It must be the wrong thing to say, though, because Elandaris just looks angrier. Like he thinks they must be tricking him. Uthvir only feels confused as he lefts his fists again. They brace themselves, but this time they keep watching. So they see quite clearly as his hands come down, and…

A leaf.

A simple leaf, being carried on a swift wind, whips by and slashes Elandaris’ hands again, before he can bring them down to hit. He lets out another cry of pain, and finally scrabbles back off of Uthvir. Bleeding from both hands.

“What are you doing?!” he wails. “You’ve cut me! You wretch! How did you cut me?”

“It’s not me doing it,” Uthvir tries to explain, raising placating hands. “It’s…”

The leaves?

They glance down to the ground, and the two unbroken, perfectly-shaped, but blood-edged leaves lying not too far away. There are techniques that can make even flower petals as sharp as darts, especially in the hands of wind practitioners, Uthvir knows. They’ve read as much as they can, when they’re able to. But in that case…

There’s only one person who could do this sort of thing.

If Master Thenerassan wanted to stop Elandaris, though, he could simply come and tell him to stop?

This must be a lesson, then. Or a test. Uthvir curses their own stupidity, as they wonder what the correct response is. They never seem to know the right answer with these things. But if Master Thenerassan doesn’t want his presence to be known, then… it’s probably better not to tell Elandaris?

Maybe Elandaris is supposed to figure things out for himself? He is also a student, after all.

Uthvir remains silent, and the two of them fall into a wary stand-off. After a moment, they push themselves back to their feet.

“Give me back my treasure,” they demand, helpless to let the matter go.

Elandaris’ expression twists. He looks down, but then, to Uthvir’s growing dismay, seems to realize that he doesn’t still have it.

“I dropped it,” he tells them. Then he lifts his chin. “Which is just lucky for you, because if I hadn’t I’d be taking it to Master Thenerassan right now, and you’d be getting kicked off the mountain for thieving.”

Uthvir balls their fists, but doesn’t dare make a move. The corners of their eyes itch.

“I’m not a thief!”

For a moment, they think Elandaris is going to try and beat them some more. But there’s blood still pouring from his cuts, and the sight of it seems to make him hesitate instead. After a tense second, he turns on his heel.

“You just wait,” he says. “I’m telling Master Thenerassan all about this anyway, about how you tried to break my feet and bloodied my poor hands. And then that’ll finally be the end of you!”

On that note, Elandaris races off. Uthvir thinks they would be terrified of his claims, except…

Except, Master Thenerassan must alright know. Mustn’t he?

And he… he stopped Elandaris.

They just feel confused, as they pause and look around. No matter how they search, though, they can’t seem to see their teacher anywhere. They give up looking for him after a minute - if he doesn’t want to be found, they don’t suppose they stand much of a chance - and instead start searching for the necklace. Their ribs and stomach and face all hurt from Elandaris’ blows, but they can’t just leave it behind. They try and retrace things, but even though they search high and low, pulling aside plants and checking around stumps, and even looking in spots that seem unlikely places, they can’t find it before the sun begins to set.

Their treasure…

Uthvir is so disconsolate, they finally slump on the ground, and let a few tears escape.

“I lost it,” they whisper. “I’m so sorry…”

They aren’t even sure who they’re apologizing to. The words just seem to fly out on their own. They take a minute to cry, holding themselves upright on shaky limbs. Before they finally sigh, and resign themselves to the truth. They still have to bring the firewood back. And now that they’ve lost so much time, they’ll probably have to spend all of tomorrow making up the difference on their chores. The ones they can’t do in the dark, anyway. They sniffle, and brush off their cheeks. Trying to dry their eyes as they finally pick up the dropped firewood, and then stagger back towards the mountain path.

Into their pockets, they tuck a pair of blood-stained leaves.

Thenvunin feels like he must be the worst person in the world.

He had been surprised when his practice had been interrupted by voices. Raised in argument, by the sounds of it. For half a second he was irrationally afraid that he had been caught, and that something about his practice had been so inherently wrong that he was on the verge of being discovered. But then he’d realized the voices were further off than that. And then he’d recognized them, too.

Uthvir and… Elandaris.

Oh no.

As he hurried over, Thenvunin found himself recollecting the scene he was encountering. If it was the one he suspected, anyway. The one where Elandaris stole Uthvir’s precious necklace, the only remnant of their forgotten, tragic past. The one item that could still bring warmth to their cold heart, even when they were at the height of their dark ways.

In the original story, Uthvir had eventually regained the necklace when Elandaris died in the tournament.

Thenvunin watches as the two students struggle through the undergrowth, though, and sees the necklace in question stuck in the middle of a nearby fern. From his angle it’s quite clearly visible. The golden shard is a bright bit of light in the dark green foliage. Most of his attention is soon caught by the fight, however, and his first impulse merits several insistent warnings from the system.

Thenvunin’s fists clench and unclench. Thenerassan wouldn’t have stopped Uthvir’s mistreatment.

System, how many points will I lose for just marching out there and stopping it anyway?

What?! 40 points? He only has sixty-five as it is! That would… that would put him so close to complete failure…

His mouth goes dry. Is he really just going to stand here and watch this happen?

No. No, there has to be a way to interfere. Even if he can’t stop it directly, there must be something he can do. He thinks. There’s a technique, he remembers. It was one of the cooler things about the original Thenerassan, in with all his depravity and scumbag qualities. Precision was something he was actually good at. He could whip around tiny things with enough speed and subtlety to make even the most innocuous strips of paper or blades of grass into weapons.

Of course, the original had mostly used this to inflict secret torments on Uthvir. Thenvunin can only hope it will work in reverse, as he plucks a leaf from a nearby tree. Keeping out of sight, he lifts the leaf to mouth, and blows. The first attempt goes wide of the mark, though. Drawing in a determined breath, Thenvunin grabs another one, and tries again. As Elandaris raises his fists, Thenvunin focuses precisely on where he wants the wind to carry the leaf. He feels the energy in his body, and the energy in the world around himself. And just like that, it feels as if he is remembering how to do something, rather than learning it for the first time.

The leaf slashes Elandaris.

Thenvunin is a little shocked at how much blood it draws. His bullying disciple pales, shocked in turn at the sudden blow.

Even so, Thenvunin doesn’t hesitate to send the second leaf. Uthvir looks as though they’ve been through the wringer. Elandaris finally backs off at that, but Thenvunin frowns deeply at his tirade. Already wondering how to manage that upcoming situation. He thinks he can handle it, though, so long as he focuses on Elandaris’ own misconduct. After all, the original Thenerassan would have known that Uthvir had some possessions, and that accusing them of stealing such things wouldn’t hold any water. He probably just would have been annoyed that Elandaris was wasting his time with information that he couldn’t use.

But then he hears an ominous ding.

What?! But - but, how? It was only a couple of leaves! Neither Uthvir nor Elandaris could possibly know who sent them!

System, I object! There’s no way that should have counted towards a deduction!

But no one even knows it was me!

Thenvunin feels sick. 45. He’s down to 45 points now, and all he’s earned so far is 10. This is a nightmare! He keeps still, fretting over having less than half his starting points, as Uthvir begins to search around for their lost treasure. It takes him a few minutes to even register what they’re doing. And when he does, he feels another lurch in his gut.

There, he thinks at them. Keeping his hiding place, yet trying, at the same time, to mentally project some knowledge of the necklace’s location towards them. It’s right there! Look over there, Uthvir, come on, you can find it!

He could just pick it up and give it to them. But he absolutely can’t, he knows. The thought of losing any more points right now just makes him feel sick to his stomach. So instead he stays locked in place, while he watches Uthvir search and search, their bruises purpling from where Elandaris hit them. Do they still have healing salve left? He tries to think of ways he could get them more, at least, to keep from cracking and doing something impossibly foolish. But he feels as if he is on the verge of it anyway, when Uthvir drops to the ground and begins to cry.

Oh, no! Thenvunin thinks, swallowing hard as his own vision goes a little blurry. Oh, no, Uthvir, it’s alright, it will be alright…

He doesn’t know how he manages to withstand it, until Uthvir finally gathers up the firewood, and limps off alone.

It’s only when they’re gone that he moves himself. Walking quietly over to the fern, and plucking the spirit shard necklace up from where it had been dropped.

<Congratulations! A pivotal scene has been completed. Important Item: Uthvir’s Treasure has been obtained. +100 points awarded. Achievement: Character Development has been obtained! OOC Restriction Lock has been removed.>

Thenvunin is so struck by relief at the sudden, unexpected points gain, that he almost doesn’t notice the necklace vanishing from his hands. But an object just vanishing is actually strange enough that it almost immediately distracts him from the bizarre rush of success.

Wait, system! He protests. Where did it go?

He has to get that back to Uthvir, somehow!

<Beginner’s Tip: Important Items may be stored within the system until Participant decides to use them.>

Thenvunin blinks.

So… you have the necklace?

There’s no answer, but that seems to be the correct assumption.

System, could you please give it back?

He’s thinking he might just be able to sneak it back into Uthvir’s possession, somehow, before he gets a response.

What?! Thenvunin draws in a ragged breath, and then lets out it again. He lifts up a hand to rub at his face. What sort of system even is this? He only just earned those points! And without them he’ll be down to less than half again. And will it undo his achievement? He… he can’t…

He swallows.

…No, he finally answers the system. He can work this out. He’ll get Uthvir their treasure back, it’ll just… take a bit longer than expected. All he has to do is earn enough points to feel comfortable, and then he can spare the 100 points needed to return it. And in the meanwhile, he can focus on making things better for them, now that he can actually act with some freedom. He’ll make it up to them later, he vows.

…Somehow.

The situation still seems bittersweet somehow, as he finally dusts himself off, and makes his own way back.

It wouldn’t be inaccurate to say that the loss of their treasure leaves Uthvir disconsolate.

When they get back, they can’t even bring themselves to tell Squish. She just thinks Elandaris was picking on them again, and it takes a lot of effort for Uthvir to convince her not to go try and break his knees. But they’re already in enough trouble as it stands, and Elandaris has a lot more influence with Master Thenerassan than either Squish or Uthvir. Though…

In light of what happened with the leaves, Uthvir’s not sure what to make of the situation anymore.

Master Thenerassan doesn’t like them. They’ve known that since their first week of training, when he more or less told them so. Most of the disciples at the peak come from good families. Quiet Peak is very well-respected, and the potential to ascend to immortality and prominence is enough to catch a lot of people’s interest. Of course, not everyone has the aptitude or discipline for it. Even a prince wouldn’t be able to join the sect if he lacked the potential for training. But while Quiet Peak looks after its residents, serving the region also doesn’t exactly pay well. So all things considered, most of the applicants who get accepted come from families who have enough affluence to spare them, enough connections to actually get them there, and who also have the potential needed to be considered for training to begin with.

Sometimes, though, masters who are out on trips will cross paths with individuals who seem to have very noteworthy potential. These people can be of all sorts of backgrounds; what matters is just that they have the makings of a good disciple. According to the tenets of Quiet Peak’s sect, there shouldn’t be any discrimination of people based on where they came from originally. Once someone sets themselves to the path of ascension, then, one’s place along that path is more pivotal to rank and influence than their birthrights or privileges.

That’s not really how it works, though. Uthvir is one of only a few disciples with a poor background, and the only one serving Master Thenerassan. When Mana’Din had decided to offer them a place on the peak as a student, Master Thenerassan had warned Uthvir not to expect that the idealism of the tenets would shield them from reality - that someone like them, regardless of their spiritual potential, was a pity case. A servant more than a disciple, not somebody who could actually learn and achieve full mastery someday.

Uthvir wants to, though. Even if it’s unrealistic, even if it’s impossible, they want to be strong. They can’t help but think of what they saw in the trees, before they ran into Elandaris. Master Thenerassan, moving with the wind.

A knock on their door startles them out of their thoughts. Their arrival at the temple was unexpected, so, when they were first set up they were given an old wood shed for a room. Lady Mana’Din told them it was temporary, but they’ve been there ever since. Uthvir actually likes it, though. The thought of sleeping in the barracks, with the other disciples, makes them feel cold dread down their spine. Even if it was the same barracks as Squish, they’d probably never sleep soundly again.

When they call out to the knock, it’s Squish who opens the door. Uthvir relaxes a little, seeing their friend coming in with some clean bandages over one arm, and a lantern in one hand.

“It’s late,” they say.

Squish hangs the lantern up on the hook by the door, and shakes her head.

“I only brought a few things,” she says. “I won’t get in trouble, it’s Venavismi who’s on the evening watch tonight and he’s a soft touch.”

Uthvir swallows, but can’t really find the energy to argue. They cause a lot of trouble for Squish. She doesn’t say so, but the others have told them often enough. Even Master Thenerassan has said so.

“Here,” Squish says, handing them the bandages. “Do you still have that jar of salve?”

Uthvir reaches under their blanket, and grabs the little jar to confirm it.

Another strange thing, they think. Master Thenerassan is often scolding them for not meeting standards, but he doesn’t usually give them the means to do so, either. The salve is really good, too. Uthvir has to fight the temptation to use it all up, rationing themselves and making sure to cover up any injuries that would be visible, first. But it feels warm and smells spicy, and makes the aches fade away. Squish takes the jar from them, which has them frowning.

“Don’t use it all,” they warn.

“I’ll use just enough,” Squish assures them, and then sets about helping them tend their wounds.

It’s always been like this. When Uthvir first came to the peak, Squish looked at them like she’d seen a ghost. But then afterwards, she was always helping them. Even when other people were very clear that everything Uthvir did was wrong, Squish never turned away or stuck up her nose. They could only conclude that she was the kindest person in the world.

That made them think on the strangeness of Master Thenerassan’s behaviour again, though. So far as Uthvir could tell, no one had really changed their attitude towards them since they had arrived at the peak. Lady Mana’Din was kind, like Squish, but she also very busy. She said hello to Uthvir whenever she saw them - which wasn’t often. The other disciples were either indifferent to Uthvir, or else actively disliked them. Master Thenerassan despaired of them ever showing any talent, and was just waiting for them to make the final, crucial error that would finally let him get rid of them.

So why had he given them the salve? Maybe he really was just sick of looking at Uthvir’s bruises and thinking they were an embarrassment. What was going on with the leaves, though? And come to think of it… there have been other things, too. The past while he hasn’t given Uthvir any chores to do. The other disciples have, but not Master Thenerassan. He hasn’t snapped or snarled at them for a while, either, or boxed their ears for speaking out of turn.

It’s nothing really big - but it’s why Uthvir has been hopeful that they’ve been doing better.

So… have they?

Are things different because they’re finally getting some stuff right for a change?

The only trouble Uthvir can find with that thought, is that they don’t think they’ve been doing anything differently. It makes them anxious not to know what they might have done right, because if they can’t figure it out, then how can they keep doing it?

“Squish,” they ask, as she carefully applies a thin layer of salve to their bruised cheek. The tip of her tongue is pressing out, just a little bit, as she concentrates.

“Hmm?”

“Have you noticed anything… different, about Master Thenerassan lately?”

Squish pauses for a moment, frowning a little. She doesn’t like their chief instructor. Uthvir knows that, although she won’t tell them why. They’re almost expecting her to just tell them that she doesn’t want to talk about ‘that man’, like usual.

After a moment, though, her brow furrows a little bit.

“I have, actually. He seems less…” she trails off, and makes a face like she’s trying to think of a term suitable for a student referring to their teacher.

This is a frequent problem whenever Squish talks about Master Thenerassan.

“Shit?” Uthvir suggests.

Mostly to make her laugh. They’re just in the wood shed, after all.

And it works! Squish snorts, and grins a little. Then she seems to think about it, as she goes back to applying the salve, and shakes her head.

“Don’t say that where the others can hear. Disparaging our ‘illustrious’ teacher will just get us into trouble,” she warns.

“I know,” Uthvir says, quietly. “I was just joking. It’s a great honour to serve someone like Master Thenerassan.”

Squish snorts again.

“Don’t say that, either. It makes me want to point out all of his failings instead.” Switching to their other side, she starts rubbing some salve onto the bruises there. Uthvir holds still, and fights back a wince whenever her fingers brush over and especially sensitive spot.

“Lazy,” she mutters. “Insincere. Vain. He barely teaches, I don’t think he can take credit for the success of any of his students, even partially. He just treats us like servants, unless someone else is watching. I wish he’d fall off the peak so someone else would have to take us on instead.”

“Squish!” Uthvir protests. “That’s ungrateful!”

She gives them a flat look.

“I’m incredibly ungrateful for him,” she confirms. Uthvir wants to laugh, although they know they shouldn’t. It’s mostly her tone. Well, that, and the little voice inside their head that whispers that they’ve never liked Master Thenerassan very much either.

They used to. When they first arrived they thought he was magnificent. Regal and handsome, like a portrait of everything a master of Quiet Peak should be. That impression lasted for about five minutes.

Then he opened his mouth.

“But,” Squish says, tugging their shirt open to get at the bruises on their chest and stomach. Uthvir tries to stop her - they’ll waste salve - but she just bats their hands away and starts applying it anyhow. “You’re right. He does seem different, this past little while.”

Hmm.

So if Squish has noticed it, too, then maybe it’s not that Uthvir has actually gotten better at things?

“Do you think he had a revelation?” they wonder.

Their friend shrugs.

“I don’t know. I heard he fell down and hit his head. Maybe it’s a miraculous head bump situation, like in some stories? Something knocked a negative block out of his skull that’s gone unnoticed for decades, and now he’s finally able to channel ‘niceness’ again,” she jokes.

Uthvir gives that prospect some serious consideration, though. It might not be as silly as she’s making it sound. Oh, it wouldn’t be exactly that, obviously. But what studying Uthvir has done has taught them that spiritual energy can behave in really unpredictable ways. If it didn’t, then it would be a lot simpler for people to train and deliberately control it, cultivating it at a steady and consistent rate throughout all individuals. It would be like working with uniformly sized blocks, always knowing the measurements and therefore knowing how many you need in order to build what you want. But instead, it’s like growing a forest full of trees. You can know what kind of seeds you’re putting down, can try and get the trees to grow in certain ways, but in the end, no two forests will ever grow exactly the same.

And Uthvir has overheard a lot of stories, from everywhere around the peak, really. Things can get very quiet, so gossip is inevitable. One of the favourite topics of all the disciples tends to be stories about bizarre things that have happened to people during training, cultivation, meditation, or combat.

There are a lot of stories about people whose erratic behaviour, odd quirks, or particular training struggles turned out to be the cause of some kind of spiritual block that was literally ‘knocked loose’ by something hitting them, or by them falling over, or getting struck by accident. Probably the most popular story is the tale of one ancient master who fell down the temple stairs and nearly doubled his spiritual potency.

Uthvir thinks that one might be a dirty joke in disguise, though. There are a lot of references to ‘bouncing all the way day’ in a pointed fashion that tends to provoke giggles. They think it’s a pretty tame dirty joke, in that case - but that’s beside the point. Many of the stories sound like they’re supposed to be true, even if some of them are just rumours or have all the facts jumbled up.

“...Do you think that really could have happened, though?” they ask Squish.

She pauses. At first she looks like she’s going to just say ‘no, of course not’, and laugh. But then her face scrunches up, as the same thought process seems to occur to her.

“Stranger things have been known to occur,” she finally concludes.

The whole idea makes Uthvir feel strangely hopeful, and also a little bad. Has Master Thenerassan been having difficulties this whole time, then? And no one noticed? That’s sad. Now that Uthvir thinks about it, though, it doesn’t seem like very many people are close to Master Thenerassan.

Squish finishes up, and puts some bandages over the salve to keep it from wiping off while they sleep. Uthvir offers to walk her back to her barracks but she waves them off, and only takes the lantern with her as she finally has to go. Uthvir lets out a long breath, finally feeling the aches from their beating subside; but also keenly feeling the absence of their treasure, and its usual, subtle warmth.

Their blanket feels cold as they settle down. They stare at the moonlight through the cracks in the wood shed door, and think it might just be easier to puzzle over the ineffable ways of their teacher, rather than dwelling on the bitter sense of loss.

The next day proves to be a very strange one for Uthvir.

They wake up late. Which alarms them; they must have overslept, and they have so many chores still to do, they’re bewildered and at a loss that no one kicked open their door and dragged them out to get them. The possible reasons for why that might not have happened aren’t heartening; is Master Thenerassan going to declare that they’ve been neglecting their duties, and finally kick them out?

Is that why no one woke them? Because there’d be no point?

Or are they going to get punished for being lazy and sleeping half the day away?

They hurry out, hastily securing their outer tunic, before they make themselves stop and tie their belt correctly. They can’t afford any more mistakes today! They think quickly, checking the time to find that it’s past noon, and then pelt towards the kitchens. Calling apologies, only to find themselves turned hastily away from their usual scrubbing jobs - jobs they’d neglected yesterday, in all the chaos and confusion.

“It’s alright, Uthvir,” one of the older disciples tell them. Not one of their fellows. Uthvir comes up short, full of dread rather than reassurance, even as she pats their shoulder. “We’ve got it under control. Master Thenerassan sent word not to expect you today.”

Uthvir’s heart sinks into their stomach.

Oh no.

What if yesterday was a test? And they failed?

In a flurry of anxieties, they head for the stables next. But again they find themselves turned away; cordially informed not to worry, that they aren’t expected. They think they even see Elandaris inside, mucking things out with a black expression on his face. Only for a moment. Then they’re shoo’d away. As they head for the temple steps instead, they’re getting ready to plead for their life - or, well, their life at the peak at least - when someone calls out to them.

Uthvir stops, and then drops into a polite-but-rigid bow as they see Young Master Venavismi jogging towards them.

Venavismi is the youngest of the currently ascended masters at the peak. His duties include guarding the grounds, and…

…And escorting unwelcome persons out of the temple.

Uthvir feels like their doom is cheerfully jogging towards them. Some part of them just wants to run, thinking that this must be it. They’re getting kicked out. They don’t even know where they’ll go, or what they’ll do. They’ll end up on the streets, and the other disciples have been very fond of telling them exactly what sorts of things that would entail. They’re as stiff as a statue by the time Venavismi catches up with them.

“Hey, Uthvir!” he says, jovially. “Your master wants to see you. He’s at his studies, but he asked me to keep an eye out for when you got up.”

Uthvir swallows, and takes a minute to register what’s actually being said. In specific, they have to blink, and realize that Venavismi isn’t talking about escorting them off the mountain.

“What?” the ask. They’d been so convinced that disaster was on the way, now that it hasn’t come, they aren’t sure how to respond.

“Master Thenerassan wants to see you,” the older disciple repeats. His expression turns towards worry. “Are you alright, little sibling?”

“Of course,” they say, and manage another hasty bow. They’re still probably in trouble, but maybe… maybe if they’re being talked to, first, then there’s still a chance to salvage things. “Of course, I’ll go straight away. Thank you, Elder Brother.”

“No problem,” Venavismi assures them. He still looks concerned. “Here, let me walk you. I’m heading that way anyhow.”

Uthvir can’t exactly dissuade him without being rude. They go with him towards Master Thenerassan’s home. At a few points they pass some of Uthvir’s fellow disciples - the dark looks they’re giving Uthvir seem amplified, and it actually makes them grateful that the guardian is with them. Even if Venavismi likes to make a lot of inane small-talk.

“So how are your studies going?” he asks.

“I am progressing slowly,” Uthvir admits.

“Oh. Well, everyone usually has to go at their own pace. When I was your age, Lady Mana’Din told me that it was better to measure one’s spiritual progress against their past self, rather than their peers. Look to where you have come from where you started, rather than concerning yourself with how you stack up to the other students.”

“That sounds very wise, thank you for the advice,” Uthvir recites politely. Their thoughts are flying all over the place, though, and in truth, they barely hear most of what Venavismi says as he chats at them. All the way past the mountain garden and over the little bridge to the familiar grounds of Master Thenerassan’s home, and then even inside, as Venavismi is the one who knocks and loudly calls out.

“Brother! I brought your little student!” he says. “Are you still reading?”

There’s a rustling sound from the study.

“Yes, I’m in here. Send them in, please. Thank you,” Master Thenerassan calls back.

Venavismi gives Uthvir a pat on the shoulder.

“There. Go on,” he encourages.

They steel themselves, already rehearsing apologies as they make their way into the office.

The windows are open, Uthvir notes. And the desk has been moved. They can hear some pleasant birdsong, although everything sounds rather ominous to them under the circumstances. Swan’s Grace, Master Thenerassan’s sacred sword, is in its wall stand. Their teacher himself is sitting so that he can face the window; closing some manuals that Uthvir doesn’t recognize. A small tray of snacks is resting on the desk. Though most immortals of Master Thenerassan’s calibre don’t require food for sustenance anymore, many still eat for the pleasure of it.

Uthvir’s empty stomach rumbles a little, and they nearly recoil from themselves in horror.

“Sorry!” they blurt.

Master Thenerassan raises an eyebrow.

However, to their shock and confusion, he then slides the plate of snacks towards them. Until it’s at the edge of the desk nearest to them.

“Have you not eaten yet, Uthvir? I didn’t think Venavismi would bring you in such a rush. Have some of this, and take a seat,” he instructs.

Uthvir hesitates.

Not to be disobedient, but only because they feel like this must be some kind of trap or trick. They wait too long, and they see Master Thenerassan’s smooth expression shift towards something like irritation. Or what they think must be irritation, anyway. Hastily, they do as told, before they can get scolded. They fold themselves down across from his desk, and scoop up one of the sweet powdered rolls from the plate. In such a hurry to obey that they bite into it before they think about manners, and send a scattering of crumbs down their front.

“Sorry,” they say again, through a mouthful.

Their cheeks burn as they realize their second slip-up.

But Master Thenerassan just leans forward, and pointedly sets the plate of snacks directly into Uthvir’s lap.

“There,” he says. “No need to get crumbs anywhere, I had my fill of those anyway.”

Uthvir swallows. Their mouth feels dry with terror and confusion, but asking for a glass of water at this point would be beyond idiocy. They feel like they should refuse the offer, to be obligingly polite and deferential, but Master Thenerassan hasn’t really give them room to. He regards them strangely for a moment. Unsure of how to react, they take a more careful bite of the powdered roll, with care to make sure all the crumbs on their shirt land on the plate.

Master Thenerassan pulls a fan from his sleeve, and opens it. He lets out a long breath, and leans back. It looks as if he might be deciding something. Uthvir can’t escape the thought that he is, in fact, deciding their future.

Their fate.

“Uthvir,” he finally says, after what seems like a small eternity. The sweet roll tastes like ash in their mouth. “I owe you an apology. I have been a negligent instructor.”

To Uthvir, Thenerassan’s words sound incredibly ominous. Like the beginning of a speech that starts with ‘I have failed you as a teacher’ and ends with ‘you are no longer going to be my student’. They swallow, and fight back a cough, and put aside the plate in their lap to drop into the lowest bow they can manage.

“Master Thenerassan, please, you are the greatest instructor I could ever ask for!” they say. “I’m sorry I slept in. I didn’t mean to. I won’t make excuses, but I would never let it happen again, it wasn’t my intention-”

“Uthvir, stop, stop,” Master Thenerassan gently interrupts. They look up to find him motioning at them.

Warily, Uthvir straightens back up again.

The smile he gives them makes them feel even more lost at sea.

“I am not angry with you, Uthvir,” he says, firmly. “You are not in any trouble. On the contrary, if anyone should be punished, it should be the Master Thenerassan who has taught you these past few years. He has done disgracefully. And so, some things around here are now going to change.”

Uthvir blinks.

They are utterly lost. What is going on? What is this leading to? Is it a test? A trap?

Master Thenerassan looks at them strangely again. Then he sighs, and puts his fan up to hide some of his expression once more.

“The other students have been mistreating you,” their teacher asserts.

Uthvir automatically shakes their head in denial.

“Yes, they have been,” Master Thenerassan says, firmly. Angrily, they think. They swallow and duck their head. What’s going on? What are the right answers? For the past few years they haven’t ever been a favoured pupil, but they thought that they had at least figured out how to manage certain interactions. There were patterns that they could predict; that made it easier, even if it always seemed to end in something unpleasant for them anyway.

But now all those patterns are gone.

“I will not permit it to continue,” Master Thenerassan says.

Uthvir bites the inside of their cheek, and keep their gaze averted. So are they being sent away, then? To stop it from continuing?

Another long sigh reaches them.

“...In a few days, Uthvir, I will be making a personal journey to attend to my health. While I am away, I do not think it would be very wise to leave you disciples under Elandaris’ charge. I know he is the senior among you, and that is ordinarily what I would do, but… I, ah. Have been burdening him with too much responsibility.”

Uthvir blinks. The memory of blood-stained leaves beats through the panic in their mind.

Tentatively, they look up at their teacher. But Master Thenerassan is holding his fan, still.

Health? They wonder. Immortals don’t really get sick, but there are things that can injure, poison, or otherwise impeded them in ways similar to illnesses. And spiritual ailments can happen too, of course.

Does this have something to do with his odd behaviour? And his fall? Is… were they and Squish actually right?

But then, Uthvir thinks, maybe he’s going to reverse the process? Maybe he didn’t accidentally remove a block. Maybe he just addled his skull a little. They feel guilty for thinking that sort of thing could make an improvement on the man.

Although… maybe Elandaris just did something to make him really angry? Maybe this isn’t about Uthvir doing better, but Elandaris doing worse?

Master Thenerassan carries on, heedless of their thoughts and speculation.

“Obviously, I cannot simply leave the training of my disciples to the wolves for several weeks. But it would be too much to burden any one Sibling of the peak with handling all of you. So I have made arrangements for you all to attend different teachers, while I am gone. They have generously loaned some of their time for this cause. I will tell everyone, of course, but for now you can know that you and Desire will be answering to Master Venavismi while I’m away.”

Uthvir blinks.

Venavismi?

That’s… not bad? And they’re serving with Squish? Master Thenerassan put them together on purpose?

“Oh,” is all they can manage at first, in their surprise. Then they remember their manners, and duck their head. “Thank you very much, Teacher.”

“Hm. You should thank Master Venavismi for his time, but don’t worry about thanking me,” Master Thenerassan says. “All you need to do is make sure you go to him and tell him if anyone is bothering you. It is not good for the other disciples to shirk their duties onto you. Chores are distributed throughout the peak as part of training. Every disciple must learn how to balance the necessities of daily life with the pursuit of loftier goals. But right now, things are unbalanced. Uthvir does all of the chores, and barely has time to focus on their spiritual cultivation and practice. The others do none of the chores, and do not build up their characters. So don’t think you’re doing them any favours by keeping quiet about their mistreatment towards you.”

Uthvir’s eyes are wide.

Again, they flounder. Not knowing what to say. But the habit of thinking that if there’s a problem, then they must be to blame for it, is an old standby. They immediately start offering apologies again; and rendered uncertain, again, when Master Thenerassan makes them stop that.

“You are not in trouble,” their teacher reiterates.

“But I… hurt their training?” they venture. Isn’t that what they’re getting at?

Master Thenerassan looks vexed.

“No, Uthvir. I am saying that they have hurt your training, as well as their own. And that I have failed you by letting this go on so long,” he declares.

Uthvir feels like someone just opened up the floor underneath them. They stare blankly ahead, and then blink a few times.

They… he… what?

“...Really?” they venture at last.

Master Thenerassan’s expression vanishes behind a wave of his fan again.

“Really,” he says, in a tone that brooks no argument. “But it falls to me, now, to try and fix this. That will take us some time, I fear. And some things cannot be endured; you can no longer sleep in that filthy wood shed, for starters.”

“I don’t mind it!” Uthvir insists, hastily. Please, no, not the barracks…

“The barracks are also unacceptable, in your case,” Master Thenerassan tells them. As if he could read their mind. They wobble in place a little, still missing the floor. Except, bit by bit, they’re starting to wonder if they’re floating rather than sinking. If this is a good feeling, rather than a bad one.

“Fortunately, there is a room by my garden that I do not use,” their teacher continues. “It has its own door to the outside, so there is no need for us to disturb one another. I’ll expect you to have your things moved over there by the end of today. Otherwise, you should focus on your studies until I leave. There will be no more chores until Master Venavismi assigns you some, after I have gone, to try and make up for some of the imbalanced time.”

Uthvir stares.

…What?

As Master Thenerassan looks back at them expectantly, they remember themselves yet again. Dropping into another hasty bow.

“That is too kind!” they insist.

“I think I have explained why it is not,” Master Thenerassan retorts, quietly. Almost more to himself than to him, they think. Before they can think of how to respond, he motions at them to sit up again, using his fan to gesture. “Stop bowing. And finish that plate of food, you are much too malnourished. I have some training manuals for you and Desire, I expect you to give hers to her before I go. Master Venavismi will give you guidance if you need it, but I should still point you in the right direction, so I expect you both to read these manuals while I am gone…”

Uthvir listens. They really do, even though it also still feels like they’re floating away in shock and confusion. They sit in Master Thenerassan’s office, and eat sweets, and listen to birds, and are given two crisp new manuals to tuck under their arm, and a key to a room that leads onto Master Thenerassan’s own garden. They try the shed, first, thinking that makes more sense, but no. The key doesn’t fit there. Instead it opens a door to a quiet little space that looks like it was originally meant to be a meditation room. Uthvir doesn’t know why Master Thenerassan would dislike it enough to not use it; there is a lot of pleasant light and fresh scents from the garden. But someone has put a new bedroll into the corner, along with a chest for keeping clothes in.

Uthvir leaves in a daze to go and get their things. It doesn’t take long, they don’t have very much. The little room still seems sparse and empty as they set down their blanket and put away their spare uniform, and use the extra drawers to hold all their training material and their little tin of healing salve.

Moving their belongings reminds them of what’s missing from the count of items.

It’s a sad thing in with several confusing-but-ostensibly-good things. So Uthvir’s not sure how it works out that they end up sitting on their blanket in a corner of the strange room, with their knees up their chest, crying as quietly as they can.

And when they’ve finished, they feel tired all over again. Even though they overslept already. Their bones feel hollowed out, and the lack of comforting weight at their neck still seems wrong, but… but, as they settle their damp cheeks against their knees, a wave of relief washes over them. It feels the same way that the air does after a storm has broken. And so, with instinctive desire, and a strange sense of balance, they fold themselves into a meditative pose and settle more deliberately into their corner. Closing their eyes as they focus on their breathing, and then on the flow of their spiritual energy.

Their teacher instructed them to practice.

Even if nothing else makes sense, Uthvir supposes that this, at least, probably should.

Thenvunin can’t help but fretting, when the day actually arrives for him to leave and head for the caves.

It still seems like a good plan. Or maybe just the best he can come up with. But there seem to be endless complications to everything. He had assumed things would get simpler once he wasn’t getting ‘dinged’ by the OOC Lock anymore - and in a sense, that really is a benefit. What he’d failed to consider, though, was that there might still be consequences for acting ‘strangely’.

Case in point - the first morning after the lock had worn off, no less than three of the original Thenerassan’s colleagues had asked if he was ‘feeling alright’. Master Tasallir had looked at him as if he might be having some kind of manic episode, one of the peak’s healers had just ‘swung by’ to check on the currents of his spiritual energy, and then Uthvir had seemed positively terrified during a simple interview where all he tried to do was fix their bullying issue and move them to a better place to sleep at night.

He had scared them witless and he didn’t even know how.

They still seem uncertain around him. Thenvunin has been giving them space - and that hasn’t been hard, at the end of the day. He has plenty to deal with in trying to wrangle the other disciples at the moment, who are even more confused that their ‘teacher’ has started behaving differently. At least that makes some sense, though, because Thenvunin isn’t particularly trying to be nice to them.

Oh, he’s not being cruel. But being ‘too nice’ to Squish reads in a way that makes his skin crawl, considering the Original Thenerassan’s ‘niceness’ towards her. And as for his bully students, well, obviously there’s a need to backtrack on some of the damage that’s been done to their values and discipline. Which means actually punishing them for being vicious little beasts.

Thenvunin’s never been a teacher. He went to school, once, for about four years when his health was good. Otherwise it was all homeschooling. So he even finds himself pouring through the Original Thenerassan’s notes, not because he thinks it would be a good thing to emulate the man on a lot of things, but because it… at least gives him an idea of what he’s working with? And what the general structure of things should maybe look like. Unfortunately, most of the Original’s notes just read like the diary entries of some kind of madcap social climber. Who has good connections, who has money, who has relatives who’ve ascended, and things like that.

Otherwise, he didn’t seem to bother with a lot of necessary work.

Thenvunin ends up going to Master Tasallir, who is an ascended scribe and the person in charge of the peak’s records and archives, and mustering up an excuse of losing some of his teaching materials in order to access back-up records in the archives. Tasallir still seems to think he might be deranged, but less than he had before, when Thenvunin had attempted to offer him an actual friendly greeting.

The man does make him nervous, though. He can’t even remember reading about him from the original book, and yet for some reason he is… unreasonably good-looking? Like someone cast him out of precious metals and ivory and then brought him to life via wishes. He is quite possibly the most meticulously groomed person Thenvunin has seen on the entire peak, which is saying something, and every time her speaks to Thenvunin he looks like someone has jammed half a lemon in his mouth.

Thenvunin cannot take it personally. He thinks he would look the same way at the Original Thenerassan, and has no idea what sorts of transgressions his alter-ego might have committed before Thenvunin pulled a body snatch on him.

But the long and short of it is that he spends several days running around in a mad panic, earning no points and feeling as if he is somehow just making everything worse, as he tries to actually teach his students and beseeches the other mentors at the peak for assistance and is perpetually asked if his ‘spiritual equilibrium’ is alright.

So on balance, despite his nervousness over leaving - and what could go wrong in his absence, if that little villain Elandaris gets his hands on Uthvir again - he thinks the trip will be good.

He can study, He can practice his abilities. He can make plans. He can come back, and hope that any major shifts in his ‘general temperament’ might be attributed to a successful trip; like the way some people seem to come back from vacations with entirely new outlooks on life. Or maybe, if he gives them a few days, people will start to forget what the Original was really like. Even just a little bit.

…That’s a long shot, but he can hope.

One silver lining to the whole scenario that he hadn’t even anticipated is that, since he is going to a section of the sacred caves that is not typically used by Quiet Peak, Lady Mana’Din gives him a map of the cave system with his path outlined for him. She also gives him a special pass key, which is little more than a strip of paper with a password written on it. But when Thenvunin presents it to the waterfall opening of the cave system, the water parts, and the entrance is revealed to him; and every other path along the way is also opened by his innocuous-seeming strip of paper.

Thenvunin begins to feel some unease about the situation as he makes his way to the cavern system of Battle Peak.

He’s never been in a cave before. Only really seen them on television and in movies, which doesn’t really do the darkness of them justice. Not that there’s no light; openings up towards the surface let in bright shafts of daylight, but any time a cloud rolls past them, they darken. And there are some lanterns, but still, they don’t illuminate everything. Many passageways seem shrouded in a deep darkness, and the darkness feels strange to him.

Old, somehow.

It reminds him of the practice that some peaks have of binding cursed spirits and demons beneath mountains. Like the dungeons below a castle. Thenvunin does not see anything, or hear anything, or even feel anything more than the odd sense of the ‘energy’ in the place. There are pools of calm, and waterfalls of light, and there are small bodies of still water - clear, somehow - and there is darkness.

Only the darkness bothers him, until he thinks about how much time he is going to be spending here.

Then he is very glad that he brought along so many books.

Every so often he passes a cave that he suspects is occupied, but he doesn’t see any occupants until he gets to the segment of the map that marks the Battle Peak system. He doesn’t get lost or turned around too many times, thankfully. The caves are supposed to be a ‘natural’ place, but they do still have markers for the pilgrims that come.

When Thenvunin is the Battle Peak system, he passes by a small chamber. Filled, unexpectedly, with daylight. An unfamiliar figure mediates in the middle of the room. They do not seem to take note of Thenvunin’s passage, and after a while, he decides it would be best just to leave them to their self-reflection.

Other than that, he doesn’t see anyone until he’s actually made it to the cavern allotted to him.

The space is something of a relief. Though it’s still obviously a cave, it has light. Not as much as the one he saw the meditating disciple in, but enough to give him a glimpse of the sky through the high opening. Water trickles down one side of the cavern wall, and some moss is growing around the opening. Thenvunin can feel the air move a little.

It startles him, how much of a relief that is. Like a friendly touch that he had missed without knowing, ever since he came inside the caves. He moves to the middle of the chamber, and takes a deep breath. Spreading his arms out and feeling the air across his face.

I can do this.

Though after a moment, it occurs to him that he isn’t entirely sure how to start.

The meditation he witnessed earlier rises in his memory, and after a moment, he supposes that’s as good a place to begin as any. He sets the bag he brought into a corner of the cave - Master Venavismi had blinked at the sight of it before he left, asking if it wasn’t traditional to take nothing at all; but Thenvunin managed to say it was only for the trip - and then he settles in a good spot to feel the breeze, and begins.

Once he starts in on things, he finds that, like with the leaves he had thrown at Elandaris, many things are more like waking up a memory than trying to attempt something new. Even though Thenvunin is sure he’s never done any of them before. He manages to pass several hours without feeling like he’s been in a hard stone cave for that long; not noticing the memory of hunger, or feeling pain from the cold stone floor. He alternates between mediation and cultivation, practice and pondering. He takes breaks to read some of the manuals he brought and makes notes, and notices the light changing from day to night, before the habit of sleeping catches up with him.

But that just leaves him feeling antsy and uncertain. And in too much darkness to read anymore.

Sounds from one of the other chambers draws his attention. Thenvunin considers that it might be wise to watch some of the other disciples here, to see what they’re doing. To figure out what he should be doing. He gets up, and dusts himself off, and heads back out of the chamber. A little wandering leads him to a side passage, that descends right down next to the cavern he was in. That’s where the sounds seem to be coming from, along with the steady trickle of running water. He makes his way down, hesitating when the distant lantern light fades, and he has to proceed in darkness. But it only lasts for a short while, before he sees a light at the end of the passage.

The sounds become clearer. It sounds like someone… groaning? Sparring, perhaps? Thenvunin almost thinks for half a second that he’s about to walk in on something inappropriate instead, with the heavy nature of the panting that he hears, but… serious disciples of Battle Peak wouldn’t use the sacred caves for trysts, would they?

That would be too scandalous!

Thenvunin’s face feels hot at the thought, and he’s definitely hoping he doesn’t see anything untoward at all as he reaches the bottom, and takes a look around.

The first thing he notes is that there is only one person in the chamber. It’s a wide space, bigger than the one he had been in, but with more dark patches. A lone disciple is standing just off to one side, with his back towards the passage. His shoulders are hunched; and he is the source of the heavy breaths.

Thenvunin hesitates. Something niggles at the back of his mind, a sense of something he should know, but also a rush of reflexive worry. Thoughts of being in hospitals, of seeing other sick and injured and struggling people.

This man is unwell?

And then the system provides him with a name, hovering in text just below the stranger’s shoulder. Like a caption in a film.

Thenvunin freezes.

All the colour drains out of his face as sudden recognition dawns.

Oh no. Oh no. No, he remembers this now! From when the original Thenerassan was discredited in the story! Battle Peak’s champion was Thenerassan’s rival while they were students, serving under the same teacher. They had bitterly despised one another, and Thenerassan had nursed a grudge ever since the fallout of their constant fighting had seen their teacher hand his tutelage over to Mana’Din at Quiet Peak, in order to separate them. Bitterness at being the one chosen to leave rather than stay, Thenvunin had assumed.

A spark of hatred that had bloomed into an opportunistic murder, when Thenerassan had gone to the sacred caves for self-reflection, and found Calain lost to the haze of spiritual imbalance. A training method gone badly awry. At the time, the murder was considered self-defense; Calain had lashed out and in defending himself, Thenerassan had killed him by mistake. But as the black marks on his reputation grew, it became clear that the murder was deliberate. Calain’s state only provided a plausible excuse.

And Master Calain’s sister was a member of Uthvir’s harem. One of their favourite wives, even. So of course, Uthvir had taken great care to avenge the death of her brother, along with every other payment they drew from Thenerassan’s blood.

I can’t be here, Thenvunin thinks, all at once. He turns to leave but in his hurry, and the dark, a loose pebble flies away from his shoe.

Calain turns. Ragged and wild, like an animal. Thenvunin feels a rush of shock as he sees his skin mottled with darkness, as if covered in dozens of bruises. He can scarcely take in anything else about the man, as fear overwhelms him, and he moves to keep running.

Calain makes a sharp motion. There’s a flash of warning. Reflexes alone save Thenvunin as he leaps back, and barely avoids the sword that cuts across his path.

<Dawn’s Radiance>, the system helpfully tags it.

I don’t care about the names of swords right now! What am I supposed to do?! Thenvunin wonders back. He doesn’t get an answer, isn’t even really expecting anything that helpful, before Calain roars at him and charges. His sword whipping through the air and flying to his hand, as his eyes gleam with wild, erratic energy.

Thenvunin flees in the opposite direction.

“Calain!” he tries, as the two of them begin to race in circles around the chamber. “Calain, it’s me, Thenvunin!”

“I’LL KILL YOU!” Calain roars.

Right, yes, no, the Original Thenerassan may have known him but they weren’t on good terms. Familiarity isn’t going to help. Thenvunin keeps running, and dodging the occasional onslaughts of Calain’s sword, as he tries desperately to think. I need to get help!

He attempts to turn back up the passageway, but the sword blocks his path. And then it cuts towards him, and in a sudden, vivid moment of clarity, Thenvunin knows that if he doesn’t do exactly the right thing right this second, he is going to be speared on that blade.

Before he can really think about it, about what he knows or what he can or can’t do, he turns, and in a smooth motion, draws Swan’s Grace.

The blocking move comes effortlessly. Calain’s sword strikes against his own with enough force to push him backwards, but even though there’s a ton of energy behind it, it’s erratic and unfocused. Thenvunin narrows his eyes, and in a sharp, deliberate gesture, knocks the weapon out of the grasp of Calain’s distorted spiritual energy, and sends it clattering across the chamber.

Right in time for the weapon’s owner to charge him like a zombie from a horror film.

Thenvunin’s ready, though. He feels impossibly calm - like he’s floating out of this body again, like he’s just a director telling it what they need to accomplish - as he turns the flat of his blade to deflect part of Calain’s charge, and then smashes a palm up the underside of his jaw. The energy around them ripples, and Thenvunin’s own bats his attacker away with a rush of wind that howls through the chamber.

Calain smacks against the cavern wall; Thenvunin immobilizes him quickly, enabled mostly, he thinks, but the pure chaos of the other man’s aura, and the incoherence of his intentions. He sits on his back to hold him down, while Calain bucks, and keeps Swan’s Grace ready to deflect in case he should manage to summon his sword again.

But then, reality sinks back in, and Thenvunin is once again at a loss.

What… what he should do?

He can’t hold Calain down forever. But he can’t kill him, either. Even if it weren’t for the situation with Uthvir later on, Thenvunin’s never killed a person before. Trying to tell himself that Calain’s only a fictional character doesn’t seem to work very well. Not when he’s spasming and struggling like a very real, ill man, caught in some kind of terrible seizure.

“Help!” he tries calling. “We need assistance! Is anyone there?”

He thinks he hears something, or maybe a few things. But minutes pass and Calain is getting harder to restrain, and the bruising on his skin is looking worse by the minute, unless that’s just Thenvunin’s imagination. But it seems almost like… like he’s changing. Like the imbalance is…

Oh.

Oh, no. He remembers now. Imbalance one’s energies bad enough, and death can result. Calain body is being destroyed by the energies inside of it. Like a cancer.

But as Thenvunin remembers that, he also finds himself remembering something else. One of Uthvir’s wives went through something similar, didn’t she? Sabotaged in her training by a rival. But Uthvir saved her. In the sort of novel that Immortal Demon Way was, not saving their own wife wouldn’t have fit the power fantasy bill. So Uthvir had used their own spiritual equilibrium to restore hers. Thenvunin even remembers the description of the technique, although he also recalls it being described as very dangerous and liable to damage both parties if it backfires…

It’s seeing Calain spit up a mouthful of blood that finally makes up his mind.

“For the record, I’ve never done this before. So if it doesn’t work, I am sincerely trying,” he says.

Then he summons up his focus, and presses his fingers to specific points on Calain’s back. Digging in, and mustering up the energy he needs, and feeling out what the over-abundance of energy in the other man is. Then he starts channeling in a counter-balance from his own stores.

It feels strange. Like bleeding, almost, but not quite. Thenvunin’s arms tingle and his focus blurs a little. But he takes calm, steady breaths. If there’s one thing he does know, it’s how it feels when something’s going wrong in his body. And this feels tiring, and risky, but not like he’s committed a disaster yet. A soft glow emanates from his touch. He’s so focused, that he doesn’t notice when Calain stops struggling.

He does notice when the mottling on his skin begins to fade, though.

Thenvunin keeps up the process until he feels like he’s starting to lose his own balance. And then he finally pulls his hand away, and stops.

There’s a long moment of utter silence.

Then the system chimes in.

<Congratulations! You have successfully completed a character quest. +50.>

Fifty points? Just fifty, for all that? Thenvunin doesn’t know if he’s more surprised that he got anything at all, or offended that this was somehow worth fewer points than just stealing poor Uthvir’s treasured necklace.

Calain turns, and looks at him with eyes that seem bloodshot, but otherwise normal.

“What?” he says. “Thenvunin?”

He sounds simultaneously offended and bewildered. Thenvunin figures he can let the other man go, now, and does. Only starting to release him before Calain is shoving him off in return, and moving warily away from him.

Thenvunin folds his arms, unable to fight back his annoyance. It might be understandable that almost everyone hates him, here, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t getting sick of it, too.

“What’s that look for?” he demands. “I just saved your life! That was a risky move, you know. I’ve never done anything like that before. And you were trying to kill me the entire time, too!”

Calain’s brow furrows. He looks confused.

Thenvunin curses his luck.

“Oh please don’t tell me you have short-term memory loss?” he snaps. That would be his luck, wouldn’t it?

The comment seems to smooth out some of Calain’s features, though. The other man extends one arm outward, and Dawn’s Radiance flies back into it. Thenvunin stiffens; but after a second, Calain only sheaths the blade back at his hip.

“I remember,” he says, clipped and obviously still wary.

The two of them stare one another down.

“...Why?” Calain finally asks, breaking the silence.

Thenvunin straightens out his clothes, which had been sent somewhat askew by the fight, and hesitates on how to reply.

“Why what?” he asks, in the end.

It just seems to make Calain more annoyed, though.

The effect is somewhat undermined by the fact that the man is bizarrely pretty, though. Thenvunin is beginning to wonder what’s going on with that. When he read the book, he had sort of imagined Master Calain as being a rugged, muscles-upon-muscles, thick-and-hairy warrior type. Barrel-chested and stocky and square-jawed, the sort of man who fought bears under waterfalls. But on reflection, he supposed that the man’s reputation had been described more than his looks. And his sister, Calantha, was a remarkable beauty; dainty and fair, and actually described in an atypical amount of physical detail.

On that reflection, Thenvunin realizes that Calain looks essentially like a male version of her. He’s still obviously fit and broad-shouldered, taller than Thenvunin himself. But he’s delicate-looking too, with a princely sort of countenance. A pretty face, long eyelashes, soft mouth…

The contrast between expectation and reality is a little unnerving.

Still. Calain is glaring, and he does at least have the eyebrows to pull that off.

“Why would you do that?” he asks, looking Thenvunin up and down. As if he’s half expecting some vipers to suddenly come soaring out of his pockets or something.

Thenvunin sighs, internally, and reminds himself that there’s no point in getting annoyed. People are just going to be suspicious. The only person to blame for it isn’t here, because Thenvunin has taken his place.

“I’ve been… thinking about a lot of things,” he says. “Things I regret. About the past. About who I’ve been. I don’t want to be that person anymore, Calain. I’m trying to bury the Thenvunin Thenerassan you knew, and do a better job with the future than he ever would have. I would like to turn over a new leaf.”

Calain looks suspicious, still.

After a few more minutes of staring contests, Thenvunin gives up. He feels bad, now. Tired. Here he was supposed to be building up his spiritual energy, and now he’s set himself back instead. Not that he regrets it. After a moment he finds himself looking Calain over again, and while the other man may still be expecting some kind of trick…

Thenvunin just saved his life.

Maybe he can be proud of that, even if no one else is?

“I’m in the cave at the top of the passage,” he mentions, gesturing. “If you run into difficulties again, come and find me.”

Calain’s expression wavers, while Thenvunin starts to head up. It’s only then that he finally hears the sound of voices calling. Battle Peak disciples approaching from the opposite end of Calain’s chamber, by the sounds of it. After a moment of considering, Thenvunin just decides to keep going. Let them look after Calain, now. They’re his colleagues and he’s probably more comfortable with that anyway.

After a while he hears Calain finally turn and answer the calls, and then the voices move further than Thenvunin can properly hear. He finishes making his way back up the passage, and heads into his own cavern again. Settling down, reviewing the last manual he read, and focusing on figuring out just what all he did to himself, and how he should probably reverse it.

It’s good practice, he tells himself.

Come morning, he has changed his mind entirely. Exerting that much energy in such a strange way was absolutely not worth it. He should have just killed Calain. Maybe this sadistic system would have given him more points. Probably, he thinks. And then he wouldn’t be feeling like someone filled his head with bees and tied all of his muscles into knots.

The second day he gives up on progressing a few times in favour of just quietly weeping in the corner of his cavern.

Eventually, though, Thenvunin finds himself getting back on track. The buzzing in his skull abates, and he manages to smooth out all the aches in his own body, with a deliberateness that makes him envious even while he’s doing it. If only he could have done this while he was alive! Just - fix himself! Heal himself, oh, that would have been a dream come true. The number of nights he had spent awake wishing he could just will his bones better…

It makes him a little emotionally unbalanced. He has to start some things over again, and switches to sword practice for a while instead.

A few times, he thinks about going to check on Calain. But he hears no more strange noises, and after a while, he decides against it. He doesn’t want to jinx it, he managed to get away without killing the man this time, but what if testing his luck just means he ends up doing the whole thing over again?

Sometimes he can tell, without really seeing, that there are other disciples moving around the caves. But mostly, things just stay quiet, and never sees anyone. Hears things, feels things, but doesn’t see things. He forces himself to put his attention to what he needs to do, what he came for. After a while he loses track of time entirely, but, he still has a strong sense that he should stay put for now.

Until, one evening, he abruptly finds that he doesn’t anymore.

Time to go.

Without sparing much thought to question it, Thenvunin gathers up his things. He hesitates, warring with himself over it; but then he turns towards the passageway leading down to the big chamber. It’s still daylight outside the caves, and that makes him feel bolder, even though it doesn’t change the light levels in the passage any.

When he makes his way down, he sees Calain sitting on a flattened stone in the chamber. Eyes closed.

“Brother,” he calls. “I’m leaving. Just so you know. Good luck with the rest of your endeavours.”

It would have been irresponsible, Thenvunin thinks, to just leave without letting the man know that a potential source of help had gone.

Calain doesn’t give any acknowledgement of having heard him or not.

After a minute, Thenvunin can’t help but sniff in annoyance. Muttering a little to himself about rude people and ingrates before turning on his heel and making his way all the way back up that damn passage again, before consulting his map to find the quickest route out.

Once he’s out, getting back to Quiet Peak will be simpler than leaving it. He can just use his energy to fly his way there on his sword. A genre trope that always seemed a little odd to him, but when he tested it out during one of his attempts to master a few basic abilities, he suddenly discovered the appeal.

Of flying, at least.

The map leads him to an opening that heads straight up and out of a wide side passage. Thenvunin takes it, and lets out an audible sigh of relief as he finally comes clear of the cavern rock and breaks out into the trees and open air again. A slightly frigid wind blowing past him, carrying just the faintest hints of snow, while the trees sway. He lets his energy carry him up above the tops of them, as he stretches his arms out again.

That was a success, he thinks. He does feel somewhat better about himself and his abilities now. Even if that whole debacle with Calain still feels vaguely traumatic.

He turns towards Quiet Peak…

…And halts, going cold all over again.

Flames lick upwards from the direction of the temple. While the sky towards the opposite horizon is grey, closer to the peak, the air shimmers with an eerie red light. The next gust of wind that blows his way carries ash instead of snow, and right as he sees it, he hears the first distant chime of the temple’s alarm bells.

He forgot.

How could he forget?!

The attack! The attack on the temple, when Uthvir was fifteen. One of the most formative moments in Uthvir’s pre-Hell development, one of the first ‘big’ fights, a pivotal moment before the tournament that actually seemed to make the story really kick off the ground.

The attack!

Demons have come to Quiet Peak.

#scum villain au #sharkbait #cliffhanger warning #i really wanted to post something #most of my writing efforts have not gone well but!#i am still trying and this was the best success i've had lately #so here you go guys hope somebody likes it #long post

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rosecorcoranwrites · 5 years

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Editing Advice Part 3: Rewriting

Last time, we discussed how to address plot holes and keep world building internally consistent. Today, I will share my thoughts on rewriting, specifically on when you should rewrite, and when you should stop. I should mention, though, that parts 1, 2, and 3 of this series can and should be done simultaneously. That is, while you're rewriting, you can fix plot holes and issues with timing, and when you're looking at some inconsistencies in world building, you might find a section you need to rewrite. So the first answer to "when should I rewrite" is "when you have to fix the problems with continuity, world building, and plot".

But what about in general? First of all, what do I mean by rewriting? I'm not talking about tweaking a sentence here or there, or find/replacing a character's name, nor am I talking about changing the details of how a certain magical creature looks or wether the moon should be waxing or waning in one scene. I'm talking about full on changes to scenes, chapters, or entire books. This is hardcore stuff. Fun, but hardcore. First, let's talk about dealing with different drafts.

My Draft Philosophy

While some writers will tell you to completely scrap each old draft and literally rewrite each new one from scratch, I think this is utter madness. First of all—

and I realize I am only one of five writers ever to say this—your first draft is good! If it wasn't, then you shouldn't bother rewriting it and should move on to some other project. Is it perfect? Heck no! That's why we're shiny-ing it up. But it's good. There are good sentences, good turns of phrase, good exchanges and flow. What's more, there is heart; when you wrote it, you were feeling certain things that you won't be feeling if you completely rewrite it. Don't forget that, and don't throw it away.

Well, now that that's out of the way, what should you do with your first, or second, or third draft (did I mention I rewrote my third book four and a half times?). Save them each as a separate document! You never want to write over an old draft, because you might, even years down the line, think back on something that you can reuse from one of those old drafts. I'm speaking from experience here. Just as there are parts of your old drafts that you dislike, there will be parts of your new drafts that you end up not liking as much as what you had previously written. Computer memory is cheap, and writing time isn't. Save everything!

I'll even save each chapter of a to-be-rewritten/edited draft as its own document. This helps me break rewriting into chunks and, occasionally, rethink structure. Maybe the story would flow better if I moved this chapter before that one? Maybe I should break this long one into two short ones (separate documents will more easily show you the word count of each chapter). I'll even do this for particularly tricky scenes, saving only the scene into it's own document so I can really play around with it without fear of altering the rest of the chapter. When I'm done with the scene or chapter, I copy/paste it back into the larger draft of the whole book.

When to Rewrite

But how does one know when a scene or chapter should be rewritten, instead of changed a little. The simple answer is, when you don't love it. When you're reading through your book, happy as a clam, and suddenly there's a part that irks you, or feels off, or is kind of boring. That part needs to be rewritten rather than sent out into the world in a subpar fashion.

Obviously, you'll need to rewrite scenes that contain large continuity errors, internal inconsistencies, or plot holes, but there might be scenes that are perfectly serviceable that still don't sit right with you. They're not as good as they could be, and you know it. Rewriting, to me, is a very personal thing; you might even have beta readers who think your story is fine, but if you don't think it is, then it isn't.

Given the personal nature of the beast, it's hard to talk about it in generalities, so I'll instead deal with examples. I'll use my own writing, since I've done my share of rewrites for a number of different reasons.

Miscast Spells had it's major changes when I went from planning to drafting, so I didn't have too many rewrites, but I did significantly change the prologue; it was actually the last scene of that book that I wrote. Why did I rewrite it? Well, it was boring, so I spiffed it up, added more characterization, and actually showed Emmaline getting cursed during it (yes, that very important scene was not in the first draft!).

I would say I went through about three drafts of Outcast Shadows. The first one existed before I wrote Recast Light, and I didn't know how the trilogy ended. Sebastian had a bit of a different motivation for his actions ( he actually wanted to destroy Chiaroscuro! Yikes!), but when I started writing Recast Light and looking at Sebastian's character, this motive didn't ring true to who he was. This meant I had to do a major overhaul of his storyline, but it was obviously for the best. In the final draft, I rewrote particular scenes—when Sebastian first speaks to Millie in Chiaroscuro, when he explains about the threat facing the city, what happens between him and Alistair in the courtyard—in order to really emphasize character relationships and feelings. I wouldn't say the old versions of those scenes were bad, but they weren't what I wanted for the story overall. I didn't love them, and now I do.

And then there is Recast Light, the problem child. When I say I rewrote it four and a half times, I mean I basically changed half of what happens in the book, significantly, four times, and then tweaked the rest here and there (that's where the half comes from!). For example, in the first two drafts, there was an entire subplot involving Chiaroscuran anarchists; if you've read the book, you'll know that that is no longer a thing (though two of their members, Augustus and the Empress, remained in the story). Why did I cut it? It was random and added nothing to the story; I didn't love it.

Then there was Sebastian, my problem child within a problem child. In the first draft, he slept through most of the book (no, really!), and in the second draft, he was awake, but hardly interacted with the rest of the main characters (he was hanging out with the anarchists). It wasn't until the third draft that he finally joined everyone else like a proper main character. Why did I change it? A better question would be, why did I write it so poorly the first two times. It was so weird and not at all what I wanted that I couldn't let it stand.

Then, I overhauled the entire second half of the book between the third and fourth drafts (everything after chapter seven, for those of you who have read it). None of that was there before the final draft. I'm still shocked by this, and I'm the author! Why did I rewrite it? Several reasons. First, the way the main cast dealt with Alcea in the first drafts was totally deus ex machina. Gross! Second, none of it tied in enough with the first two books. It wasn't narratively satisfying, instead feeling thrown together. Sure, the story ended, but it wasn't how that story should have ended, given everything that came before it. I wanted to bring back elements from the other books so that the trilogy would feel like a cohesive whole.

As a side note, the above example is also a reason not to kill your darlings. I had always wanted a ballroom scene in my books, but could never find a place to put it that made sense. As I was writing my fourth draft, flailing around for a way to fix it, I shrugged my shoulders and said, "Eh, why not?", figuring that a ball scene couldn't hurt what was already massively suffering. So I wrote the scene, and suddenly everything fell into place: how Sebastian could naturally meet-up with the rest of the cast, what Alcea's endgame would be, and from there, what the characters would need to do to deal with her. It all fit, and all because I had a silly little pet project of cramming a ballroom scene into the book. Don't kill your darlings; use them.

When to Stop

Hopefully those examples can give you a feel for how to go about choosing when to rewrite, but then there is the opposite question: when should you stop?

This is actually an important question, because some writers never stop, and if you never stop, you'll never publish. Worse, still, are certain writers (usually poets) who continue to rewrite works that they've published! I feel like this is a case of the perfect being an enemy of the good, in that it is almost impossible to actually create a perfect story (there are, in fact, only four in existence: Fullmetal Alchemist, Coco, Erased, and Ghost Trick). What you need to realize is that you aren't going to send a perfect story out into the world and should instead aim to send out the best version of your story.

Thus, if the answer to "When should I rewrite something?" is "When you don't love it" then the answer to "When should I stop rewriting something" is "When you love it". When you read what you've written, or rewritten, and it makes you smile, or get excited. When you no longer feel annoyance or boredom or dissatisfaction at reading that scene or chapter. Again, this is pretty personal, so there aren't any specifics I can give you. Just pay attention to how you feel about your own writing; if you really love it, you probably don't need to rewrite it any further (though you might need two tweak it for continuity and world building and such).

A Few Other Tips and Tricks

Everyone has their own style of taking on the rewriting process. Some people use Track Changes, or different colors of font and highlights. Some people print their documents and make changes on the paper itself with a red pen. I would say to find whatever works for you.

My process is: I usually read each chapter through, changing what I can and marking other things for later review, usually using Track Changes. I will leave myself notes, like, "Check for continuity with Chapter 5" or "Is this clear?". If it's something that irks me, but I'm not sure why, I'll usually highlight the whole section for later review and rewriting. I will then move on to the next chapter and do the same thing, then return to my notes after going through the rest of the book.

When it comes to how to rewrite a scene, I will usually outline my thoughts on paper. I might chart out two possible scenarios and see which one works best, or enumerate how changing one thing will effect the rest of the events in the story. I like writing on paper because it's quick, impermanent, and easily scrapped. There's also something about moving my hands, using different colored ink, and seeing my ideas written out spatially that helps me think. It's a way of seeing the story from a different perspective that I find helpful.

And that's it for rewriting. We've covered the main chunk of the editing process, the hard part, if you will. All that's left is copyediting. See you next time!

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emkayoh · 6 years

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Spider-Man: Homecoming Fic Recs

Alright, I snapped y’all. I’m blown away by the quality of writing in this fandom and I want to share some of my absolute faves that I’ve found. Especially since I haven’t really seen any fic recs and these fics deserve to be spread like wildfire. So here are my top favorite reads, mostly Tony and Peter centered because of course.

(Under the cut because this is looooooong):

How to Repair a Broken Heart by InfluentialPineapple (WIP)

Summary: The Mechanic has a lot on his plate; Thanos is coming, the Guardians of the Galaxy are marooned, Thaddeus Ross is reaching right down his throat, and a budding super hero deserves his full attention. He's also dying. No big deal. He can fix it. He can fix anything.

And he can do it all without even opening that stupid phone.

Now, where did those notes on Extremis go...?

Relationship: Tony and Peter

Rating: Mature

Notes: Holy shit, y’all. This is definitely my favorite fanfiction... ever. Out of everything I’ve ever read. It’s still a WIP so beware of that, but I am extremely confident in the author’s ability to finish it. And honestly, it’s well worth reading even if it isn’t finished. It has some of the most spot-on characterization, an amazing plot that rivals whatever Marvel cooks up for Infinity War, and glorious writing. 10/10 I am in the fandom for this fic specifically. (Warning: Violence, torture, lots of death.)

The Long Way Round by undeerqueen

Summary: Tony wants him to hold on. Peter just wants to go home.

Relationship: Tony and Peter

Rating: General Audiences

Notes: Okay, warning... this is a death fic. But it’s my favorite death fic ever written. It’s so beautifully written in a way that keeps you hanging on until the very end and leaves a hole in your heart that never goes away. If you’re like me and enjoy that kind of stuff, please, please, please for the love of god, read this fic. (Edit: This is a whole series now!!! Even more pain abounds.)

three words that became hard to say (i and love and you) by madasthesea

Summary: Tony likes giving gifts to prove his love, but they don't usually have four paws and a tail.

AKA: Tony, Peter, and a dog named Maggie learn how to be a family.

Relationship: Tony and Peter

Rating: General Audiences

Notes: I’m crying???? I’m usually not a fan of fics that kill off May so that Peter and Tony can be a family because she deserves better than that, but this fic is the ONLY exception. May isn’t cast aside as unimportant, Tony struggles to make Peter accept him as his new guardian, and there’s a dog! What could be better than that? (Edit: It’s a whole series now!! Tears from beginning to end.)

Everyone You’ve Ever Loved by JBS_Forever

Summary: “You will lose, Tony Stark,” the man says. “You have taken everything from me. Now I'm going to take everything from you.”

(Or: A masked-man threatens to destroy everyone Tony Stark has ever cared about. He starts by taking Peter.)

Relationship: Tony and Peter

Rating: General Audiences

Notes: I honestly had a hard time picking out a JBS_Forever fic to include in this rec list, because everything they write is amazing and I recommend all of it, but this fic stands out. It’s a classic “Peter gets kidnapped and Tony has to save him” fic, which is a favorite trope of mine lol (are you noticing a pattern with the fics I tend to like?) It’s a oneshot but it’s MASSIVE and really realistically portrayed. I love how she writes Tony and Peter and I was holding my breath the whole time.

Astronomy In Reverse by pansley (WIP)

Summary: A year after the Winter Soldier failed his mission in DC, Bucky Barnes is doing his best to stay under the radar from both Hydra and Steve Rogers. His hope for a peaceful day-to-day life in limbo goes awry, however, when he meets Queens’ newest hero; a pure-hearted kid with a death wish and a ridiculous pair of red and blue pajamas.

The last thing Steve expects when he finally tracks Bucky down is that, not only has the man been living in Queens all this time, right under his nose, but also that, in the two years since they last saw each other, Bucky somehow acquired a kid.

Alternatively: How Peter Parker effectively fucks over Bucky Barnes, and also totally saves him.

Relationship: Bucky and Peter

Rating: Teen

Notes: I guess I should mix things up a bit and rec one that isn’t a Tony and Peter fic! This one took me by surprise. I read it because I was intrigued by the relationship tag between Bucky and Peter and didn’t know how it would work. Spoiler: It works very well. It’s so different from a Tony fic but it’s so precious. Featuring foster kid/homeless Peter Parker. Also a WIP and only in the beginning stages but I sense a really interesting plot. (Warning for attempted sexual assault in one of the chapters! But it’s very, very brief. )

Weak Spot by grilledcheesing

Summary: Peter Parker has been sent back in time hundreds of times after their last face off with Thanos to do the one thing nobody else can: save Tony Stark.

Unfortunately, he has to find a way to kill his past self to do it.

And the last thing Tony is going to do is let him.

Relationship: Tony and Peter

Rating: Teen

Notes: Back on my Tony and Peter bullshit. This author is a very prominent author in the fandom so I’m sure you’ve read at least one of their fics if you’ve read a lot of Homecoming fics, but this is my absolute favorite of theirs. It’s such an interesting (and heartbreaking) concept and it’s another one of those stories that leaves you feeling empty inside. Warning for more character death.

pretending by ace8013

Summary: Natasha reflects on what she noticed.

Relationship: All of the Avengers really, but come on I read it for the Tony and Peter

Rating: Not Rated

Notes: I’m honestly... flabbergasted that this fic has so few kudos. Pls go read it and give it more. It’s really short but so poignant and says so much with so little. I honestly love it so much. It’s in Natasha’s POV which is really interesting and the author really nails her personality. It’s absolutely soul-crushing and it will only take you like 2 minutes to read please just do it. (Warning for so much character death...)

Tony Built a Son by Footloose_Poets

Summary: Peter navigates learning to be human. Tony navigates fathering an android.

Relationship: Tony and Peter

Rating: General Audiences/Teen

Notes: Ohmygosh... this one probably isn’t surprising considering the massive amounts of fanart I’ve drawn for it. The idea is so obvious yet so unique and satisfying to read. The author does an AMAZING job creating a realistic world where Tony builds an android son to keep his loneliness at bay and keeps both Tony and Peter so in character despite the vastly different circumstances from their movie counterparts. And it’s a whole series! Every new installment is a beautiful read, and the author even created a tumblr: @friendly-neighborhood-android to post mini ficlets, art, and factoids in the interim.

5 Times Peter Thought Tony Was Mad by caraminha

Summary: ... and one time he actually was.

Set a few months after Aunt May's death where Tony is Peter's legal guardian. Navigating a new life together and settling into being father and son is a rollercoaster - falling in love with the kid? Easy. Dealing with a grieving teenager, and trying to figure out how to do this whole parent thing? Uh... not so easy.

Relationship: Tony and Peter

Rating: Teen

Notes: Oh no more dead May. But I promise I only recommend these fics when they’re really well-written! And this is a REALLY good fic. I got so many feels reading this and domestic Tony and Peter really gives me life. Tony messes up a little but more than makes up for it, and then Peter messes up a lot but it’s okay because Tony loves him. It’s so adorable and heartwarming and I had the warm fuzzies the whole time.

Only Human by tonysta_k

Summary: When Flash takes things too far - pushes Peter too far by mentioning his fathers and what happened, Peter can't take it anymore.

Or, an au where after civil war, Steve was put in prison, Tony has a hard time facing his feelings, and Peter just wants to see his pops.

Relationship: Steve/Tony (Past), Tony and Peter

Rating: Teen

Notes: Damn. I don’t even ship Stony. I don’t like it, Steve has hurt Tony too much for me to ever see them as romantically involved, but if Stony just so happens to be in an intriguing Tony and Peter fic... fine, I’ll read it, so sue me. But wowowow did this fic hit me where it really hurts. It’s good because it acknowledges Steve and Tony’s failed relationship and puts Peter right in the middle of a REALLY nasty divorce. It’s really heart-breaking and realistic and claws at your emotions. 10/10 had to hug my parents right after reading.

for good by Madelinedear

Summary: "Sorry, May, we can't all be best friends with a celebrity.”

May opens her mouth to retort reflexively, the words 'we aren’t even friends' on the tip of her tongue before she closes her mouth. Because they are friends, now. They’re way past that point.

Oh my god, she thinks somewhat hysterically. Tony Stark is my best friend.

(or; Tony Stark, May Parker, and the road to something like friendship)

Relationship: Tony and May

Rating: General Audiences

Notes: YES!!! YES!!! YEEESSSSS!!! Finally, the Tony and May fic I’ve been waiting for!!! To end this rec list on a fluffier note (because boy do I love angst, huh?) this fic is hilarious, heartwarming, and so in-character. It’s a really good study of how May and Tony’s relationship might evolve over time due to their mutual bonding over fiercely loving Peter. It’s everything I ever wanted in a May and Tony friendship fic and more.

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And these two are not necessarily Homecoming fics but I have to include them because they are on the list of my all time favorite Spider-Man fics:

Weaver of Silk and Dreams by a_stands_for

Summary: Ben Parker sighed as he looked up into The Thing's eyes, so expressively human in spite of the rest of his rocky appearance.

“My fifteen-year-old nephew--who's practically my own little boy!--” he choked out with a tight voice, “h-he can't pass for human anymore. He's scared, and he's isolated, and he just needs someone else to talk to! Someone who can understand. Please."

_____

Some alternate realities are unrecognizable, and some are indistinguishable. This one lies somewhere in between.

Peter Parker's life was derailed when he mutated into a strange human/spider hybrid, and he knows that's not the way things went down for him in other realities. Still, he's determined to forge a new path and make the best of it. Sometimes "the friends we made along the way" really is the greatest treasure anyone could ask for.

Relationship: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson (Peter Parker/Johnny Storm)

Rating: Mature

Notes: Okay so this is more based in the comic-verse, but I pictured Tom Holland Spidey while reading it anyways. I don’t even ship Spideypool tbh but I got curious. I didn’t even watch the Deadpool movie or know anything about Deadpool (or the Fantastic Four, who feature prominently in this) but still... it’s SO. GOOD. More spidery Spider-Man isn’t a thing I knew I needed until this fic, and it honestly reads almost like a fantasy. The world-building is incredible and the fic also comes with great drawings to help you visualize this strange new Peter. (Warning though: There are sex scenes. I was kinda hesitant about whether or not I should rec this because of that, but honestly the fic is worth it. I don’t usually like to read fics with sex scenes, but the plot more than makes up for it.)

I Like Birds by chinashopbull (WIP... possibly abandoned?)

Summary: Peter has Asperger’s/ASD. Yes, of course he’s still Spider-Man. Deadpool tries to accommodate, with mixed results.

Some feeble plot happens eventually, blood gets on the walls, etc. I play fast and loose with canon but try to stay true to (what I perceive to be) the spirit of the characters.

Relationship: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson

Rating: Mature

Notes: Okay, so this fic predates Homecoming so it’s definitely not about that Spidey (even though I picture Tom Holland anyways), the summary doesn’t do it justice, the way the fic portrays Tony Stark makes me sad, and it’s most likely abandoned because it hasn’t been updated since May 2017 (Edit: This totally updated after a whole year. It’s still going!!!)... but hear me out. This fic is worth the heartbreak of reading an abandoned fic. First of all: Autistic Peter!!!!! Written by someone who is autistic themselves so it’s very accurate!!!! I know I say this a lot but the plot is AMAZING. There’s an amazing side story about suicide bombers that’s really intriguing. I love the mystery element of this story so much, it reads as it’s own standalone work of fiction. Also, the slow burn is so slow that the Spideypool never happens, so if that’s not your thing, don’t let that stop you from reading this truly incredible fic. (Warning: A really, really graphic eye injury in one of the earlier chapters that’s pretty gruesome. )

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IS THIS LONG ENOUGH FOR YOU?? If you read any of these fics KUDOS AND COMMENT because the authors deserve your love! Feel free to send me any recs too! You know what I like. ;)

#spiderman homecoming #peter parker #tony stark #fic recs #homecoming fics #i've been thinking of doing this for a long time and i finally snapped #i love these fics with all my heart y'all #a lot of them i've read multiple times #the first two i've drawn fan art for lmao #let me know if you've read any of these!

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christinaroseandrews · 6 years

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Part 1

First off, I’m going to have to break this review up into pieces. I’ve got too much to rant about - complete with screen grabs - that tumblr will hate me. Not to mention, I want to show you the pain and then talk about some of the more salient problems with this book in depth.

A little over a month and a half ago I said I was going to do something stupid. I was going to read my way through Faleena Hopkins’ book You Don’t Know Me. I got through the first half in a fairly decent clip - the writing was not good, the characters weren’t good, the plots were flying more than mosquitoes in summer... and then I got to the part where I just started continually shouting.

Laws of physics, laws of nature, laws of storytelling were all thrown aside as if they were garbage and then literal garbage was shoved into its place.

This was not a good book. This is not me ragging on her as an author. But I am not joking when I say I’ve read stuff by actual teenagers that was much, much better than this. And because I had to suffer through it, you have to suffer through my ranting. Aren’t I nice?

The story takes a common trope “Secret Love Child” and combines it with another “The Missing Heir” and adds a dash of “Draco in Leather Pants” and “Poor Little Rich Boy” into the mix. By the way, if you can’t guess, TV Tropes is my wiki-walk rabbit hole and I have no regrets. The same cannot be said for this book.

Rue Calliwell (and I don’t care if I misspell the name - the author doesn’t; why should I?) is trying to make it in Los Angeles. She works the graveyard shift at a local grocery store while trying to catch her big break as a dancer. When Jack Stone, one of America’s Famous Billionaire Playboys, suddenly appears on her doorstep hopping mad, she wonders what died in his Wheaties and maybe if she can kiss away the frown he’s fixing her with. (Yep, she’s dreaming about some brother banging.) After dragging the story out for way too long, it’s finally revealed that Rue is the bastard daughter of Jack’s father and that he’s been embezzling from his company to stock up an inheritance of $50 million that has Rue’s name all over it. If she refuses the money, it goes to the KKK and she can’t allow that to happen. While her other brother, Sean, treats her to a Pretty Woman makeover, Jack wrangles their best friend Alec (and super hot lead singer of a band that’s never mentioned and isn't important to the plot in any way) to seduce his sister and then break her heart. Because that’s what all pissed off brothers do, dontcha know?

So where do I even begin with this?

How about at the beginning... I have over 120 notes that I made on this as I read it. I’ll share some of them with you.

This is the opening paragraph to this book. There is so much wrong with this I just can’t even. From the random thought, to the run-on sentence (a Faleena Hopkins Trademark), to the weird-ass descriptors. Frowning Forehead? Are there lips on this forehead? Another face? Not to mention that there are missing en-dashes and it’s in a confusing tense. (Most of the book is in first person/present tense... because of the contraction, the sentence can be read as both present and past tense.)

The story introduces us to Rue, Jack, and Sean in pretty short order. Rue is supposed to be the heroine. The one we’re rooting for. Jack is the antagonist. One of the two wronged brothers and the one who thinks that Rue has an agenda. He is not a nice character. Then there’s Sean who is too good for this world and is written like every single stereotypical gay best friend but he’s got a “SECRET!” You have one guess what that is going to be.

If you can’t tell, this is in reference to Jack. But not only do we have a wild apostrophe, but we also have Exorcist levels of neck contortion. Not to mention a super awkward sentence.

This is also a Faleena Hopkins Trademark.

See...

I also mentioned that the story was in need of a good editor. Not just a proofreader, but an actual story doctor who could prune the 15 or so subplots down to something manageable while actually giving us a romance. Not a sex story shoved into a family drama. By the way, this story BARELY qualifies as a romance and I’m not totally convinced it is. The main characters end up together, but it is in no way satisfying and the focus of the story wasn’t on the relationship. More on that later.

But let’s go back to the editing.

Sorry about the italics not translating between Goodreads (where I can access my notes) and what’s in the actual book. Trust me when I say that this woman hasn’t met an italic she didn’t love, except when she should use them.

As you can see, there are now enough errors for me to mark it down a star for poor proofreading. And I’m not even a quarter of my way through this. The errors continued including something I find a death knell... the author spelling her main character’s name wrong. I’m not going to bother sharing more of her proofreading errors, unless they are really eye-roll enducing.

Another reason why this book is so bad is because the foreshadowing is heavy-handed as fuck. Like I’m going to hit you over a brick with it but I want you to act surprised when the reveal takes place. It’s that bad.

Here’s one of the most egregious examples.

We didn’t get the actual reveal of what was in the summary until 7% of the way into the book. Which is 21 pages and 5 Chapters into the book. Even then, the author played with it for a while, making it so that Rue didn’t believe the lawyer and thought this was some elaborate reality show prank. Yeah.

The author also wasn’t terribly good at hiding her foreshadowing.

This was in the character’s head. You don’t hide that kind of thing in your own head. It’s why most mystery writers don’t write from the POV of the killer, “The Strange Case of Roger Ackroyd” aside. It gives away the mystery. Coupled with the over abundance of POVs and this heavy handed handling of the character. I would have dropped this plot line entirely.... More on this later. Trust me, what goes on with Sean is a rant in and of itself and is enough for me to rate this one star.

Now let’s get into the flashback portion and will portion of the plot.

This is where the first gif really starts showing through.

Part of me really wanted to send Hopkins the Wikipedia article on cancer. The other part of me wondered: if this is what she considers hyperbole, then what other horrors did I have in store?

I shouldn’t have asked.

This is brought up, but never actually addressed. Also I need to talk about how the father gave Rue the money. He gave it to her in a lump sum. $50 million. Not a trust. Not a foundation. Just here! Cash!

The author tries to address it later. But fails.

And that’s assuming that there aren’t locality taxes and again congrats you’re in a higher income bracket.

The biggest problem with this is that the father would know better. Or have the money offshore... not something that would be transferred into a U.S. checking account to make the IRS piddle their pants like an errant puppy. The father who claims to have loved the mother and the daughter, would make sure that the daughter had the money to keep her comfortable for the rest of her life and not able to spend it or give it away all in one go.

I used to work for a lawyer’s office who specialized in estate planning (and real estate) - in most cases, if you have more than $250,000 in assets that will survive your death, it’s recommended to have a trust because the federal government takes so much.

These tricks are one of the many ways that the rich stay rich.

As I mentioned before Rue gets a makeover, courtesy of Sean.

I’m thinking of the now deleted video of hers... But here’s the author.

So of course from here on out, I’m picturing Faleena as Rue... which did not help matters.

The reason why I say this is a nice lampshade is literally until she finds out that Jack and Sean are her brothers, she’s fantasizing about sleeping with them and kissing them. Which again is “Ew!!!” for the reader and not funny and kinda crosses the pseudo-incest vibe that Amazon will allow and goes into Incest because again, we the reader know what the score is, it’s in the damned summary.

This is a huge problem in the book. The sainted mother who died of the mystical cancer is the sole woman who doesn’t get the slut/bitch/sexist treatment. Huge problem. Not even Jenna is immune (which happens later) and Jenna falls into another bad trope which I will get to later.

There’s more, but let me tell you, headhopping in the first person, present tense is tough. You’re deep into one character’s head. That takes talent.

Crappy talent. But talent.

This is where I’m going to stop my first post. We’ve just got the first mention of the love interest, Alec. And opened up another problem.

How is Alec Sean and Jack’s only friend? I say this as someone whose best friends growing up were identical twins. Most siblings, especially those that aren’t twins, won’t have the same bestie. They don’t want the same bestie. It’s a thing. They may have friends in common, but most best friends tend to be someone else. Mostly so they have someone they can rant to about the other.

If you think this is bad, wait until you meet Alec and the new siblings have a night on the town.

It’s going to be great....

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thebluesideofmyworld · 6 years

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I Like Me Better (Chapter 22 - FINALE) - A Solangelo Fic

Chapter 22: I like me better when I’m with you

(Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12|| Chapter 13 || Chapter 14 || Chapter 15 || Chapter 16 || Chapter 17 || Chapter 18 || Chapter 19 || Chapter 20 || Chapter 21) || Read on AO3

Chapter Summary: The one where Will admitted that he liked it better when he was with Nico.

Five minutes later, Will was already standing by the table where Nico was sitting.

“Hey,” he said, fiddling with the strap of his backpack.

Nico looked up from his phone and smiled brightly at Will. He slid his phone into his pocket.

“Hey,” he said. “Percy? Is that his name?” Nico gestured with his chin a little to the counter where Percy was talking to Leo.

“Uh huh. That’s him,” Will said as he slid down to the chair in front of Nico.

“He told me that you got off earlier tonight.” Nico looked at Will, a half-smile gracing his lips. “What’s the occasion?”

Will cleared his throat. He flashed a glance to Percy and Leo from the corner of his eyes.

“Uh, nothing,” he said, almost cringing at how his voice was a note higher. “Just… Umm… Maybe he’s just trying to be nice to me?”

Not the most convincing answer. And from the way Nico’s brows shot up, along with an amused smile on his lips, Nico didn’t seem to buy that answer.

“Anyway,” Will said, quickly standing up. “Maybe we should go now.”

“Sure,” Nico said as he stood up, fixing the gray scarf around his neck.

“Hey, Will!” Leo called him as they walked away from the table.

“Huh?” Will stopped and turned on his heels.

“Don’t forget this,” Leo said, throwing Nico’s beanie to Will.

Will caught it, and pretended he didn’t see the way Leo wiggling his eyebrows.

“Come on,” Will said. “Let’s get out of here.”

Will pushed the door and held it for Nico. The door closed back behind them, and they were about to walk when Will felt something wet fell on his face.

He stopped, and looked up. White snow flurries were falling from the night sky.

“It’s snowing,” Nico said softly.

“Well,” Will said, tugging his lips into a smile. “Good thing you have this, huh?” Will lifted his hand that was holding Nico’s beanie.

“Come here,” Will said, slightly tugging the hem of Nico’s black jacket. Nico made a 90-degree turn on his heels so now he was facing Will.

Will put the beanie on Nico’s head, gently tugging it at the sides to fix its position on Nico’s head. Nico’s rebellious hair still sticking up at the front, the dark curls become a contrast over the gray beanie.

“There,” Will said, sliding his hands into the pocket of his coat. “Don’t want you to catch a cold, huh?”

Nico smiled at him in a way that made Will wanted to freeze the whole moment so he could keep it forever.

“How about you, Will? You don’t want to catch a cold, do you?”

Will laughed lightly. “Naaahhh… I am good,” he said. But Nico tugged the sleeve of his coat.

“Hey,” Nico said as Will eyed him with a brow arched up. “Take this,” he said as take off the gray scarf that was hanging around his neck. Before Will could say anything, Nico already tiptoed so he could put the scarf around Will’s neck.

Will forgot how to breathe.

Nico took a small step backward and his cheeks were blushing and Will swore that if someone told him that Nico was an angel, he would believe it wholeheartedly without even thinking about it.

“There,” Nico said. Will’s throat suddenly felt dry but somehow he managed to whisper a quiet thank you. The familiar scent of cinnamon that he usually only vaguely smelt from Nico now become more prominent with Nico’s scarf around his neck.

“Come on,” Nico said. “We better go now.”

Will nodded and started walking the pavement that was starting to be covered with a sheer layer of white snow.

They were only a few feet away from The Oracle when Will felt Nico’s hand sneaking in to hold his. Without even thinking, Will shifted his hand, letting Nico’s fingers slide in between his. Nico squeezed his hand lightly, and Will’s heart stopped beating for a second. He stole a glance at Nico while keep on walking side by side, hand in hand. Nico kept his eyes straightforward, but Will could still see the slight curve of Nico’s lips, painting a smile.

Will’s chest constricted and despite the snow that kept falling down from the dark sky, Will felt so warm inside.

***

They were halfway to their apartment complex when Nico tugged Will’s hand that he was holding. The two of them stopped on the quiet pavement, right under a street lamp.

“Just wait a second, I just want to finish my coffee,” Nico said as he pulled his hand away from Will. He brought the carton cup to his lips, and finished the remaining drink in it in a few gulps. Nico then threw the cup to the trash bin near them.

This time, Will was quicker. He was the one grabbing Nico’s hand. Will could barely hear a small gasp that escaped Nico’s mouth. Nico looked up. His cheeks were rosy red and there was a small stain from his drink on the top of his lips.

Still holding Nico’s hand, Will used his free hand to gently brush the stain away. His eyes never left Nico’s as his finger touched Nico’s skin, his heart beating like crazy as he rubbed it, trying to get rid of the dark stain.

Once the stain was gone, Will pulled his hand away, but didn’t let go of Nico’s hand that he was holding with his left hand.

Nico licked his lower lip but his eyes were still locked at Will’s. Soft snow flurries kept on falling from the sky. Some snowflakes fall on Nico’s curls, quickly melted away. And under the yellowish light from the lamp, Nico looked so beautiful. Dark curls sticking out from his gray beanie, his dark eyes that were staring at Will from beneath the long and thick eyelashes, the defined cheekbones and the dark pink lips.

“I’m scared,” Will whispered.

Nico angled his neck just a bit. “Scared?” He asked. “Of what?”

“Of myself,” Will said. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself. When he opened his eyes back, Nico still stared at him and Will fell just a little bit deeper into those eyes.

“Why?”

Will bit his lower lip before he answered. “Because I really, really, want to kiss you right now. And it makes me scared. Me wanting to kiss you.”

Will’s chest was moving up and down quickly as his breathing got more shallow. Nico lifted his free hand up and carefully cupped Will’s cheek with it.

“Why it scared you?”

Will swallowed and he had no idea why he still had the self-control that was holding himself back from kissing Nico.

“What if I ruin everything by kissing you?” Will said, his voice low and slightly trembling.

Nico were smiling now, a curve of pink lips over his olive skin, slightly glowing under the street lamp. “I think that it’s me that you should be scared of, Will,” Nico said, gently stroking Will’s cheekbone with his thumb.

“Why?”

“Because I want you to kiss me so badly, if you’re not going to do it now, I might have to punch you.”

Will snorted lightly. “Please don’t.”

“To be honest, I don’t want to. You’re too pretty to be punched.”

Will didn’t know whether it was him or it was Nico that was leaning closer or probably both of them. Not that it mattered, though. Not when Nico’s face was so close. Not when something inside of Will was about to explode.

“So maybe I should just kiss you?” Will whispered, his heart was hammering in his chest.

“Just kiss me now, Will.”

Will’s brain automatically stopped working. He let go of Nico’s hand so he could cradle Nico’s face with both hands as he slowly pressed his lips to Nico’s. Nico’s hand that was on his cheek slid down to his neck as Nico was kissing him back.

Will could taste the trace of peppermint and dark chocolate left by Nico’s drink as his lips gently slid along Nico’s lips. Nico’s lips were warm and the warmth quickly spread inside of Will, like electric sparks inside his vein. Will moved his lips, tracing and mapping Nico’s lips with his own. Nico let out a content sigh which was the borderline of a moan. His lips moved along with Will’s, slotting their lips together as his other hand flew to the side of Will’s head, raking his fingers through Will’s locks of hair.

The snow kept on falling, and they kept on kissing under the street lamp.

The snow kept on falling, and they let all the words that have been waiting to be said spoken through their kisses.

After the need of fresh air had become unbearable, Will pulled away, just a bit, and rested his forehead against Nico. He held Nico’s waist and didn’t even bother to erase the grin off his face as Nico wrapped his arms around Will’s neck.

Will was half-panting and he felt a bit giddy inside. His face was starting to hurt from grinning but Nico was grinning too and Will just felt ridiculously so very happy, like everything became lighter and brighter.

“So,” Will nuzzled the tip of his nose against Nico’s nose. “Did I ruin anything?”

“No,” Nico shook his head. He planted a quick chaste kiss on Will’s jaw. “You just make things much, much better.”

Will stroked Nico’s sides gently. “So, what are we now? Boyfriends?”

Nico chuckled lightly and rested the side of his face against Will’s chest. “Whatever you want to call us. As long as it means we’re together. As long as it means that I’m with you, and you’re with me.”

Will had always thought that he had a good life. And he liked his life. But with Nico, he liked his life even better.

***

Author’s Notes:

Chapter title is from I Like Me Better by Lauv

GUYS I MANAGED TO FINISH ANOTHER MULTI-CHAPTERED FIC I WANT TO CRY NOW

Thank you for all of you who have read this fic, YOU GUYS DESERVE ALL THE GOOD THINGS IN THE WORLD <3 I love you guys so much.

I am sorry for all the mistakes, wrong spelling, bad grammar, poor description, plot holes, anything that just...bad about this fic. But I hope that this is not a very bad one as my first attempt in writing a multi-chaptered fic in this fandom. The first, hopefully not the last one.

#Solangelo #Will Solace #nico di angelo #Solangelo fanfic #Solangelo fanfiction #pjo #pjo fanfic #I Like Me Better #I just realized it's been two months since I posted the first chapter #man....it's been a ride

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whispersandwhiskerburn · 7 years

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Have You Ever?

Summary: Dean and the Reader met on a case, and neither one can get the other out of their heads. If they take the risk to try and make it work between them, they might be hurt…but if they don’t, they’ll always wonder about what might have been. Pairing: Dean x Reader Word Count: 3,560 Warnings: Fluffy mostly. Tiny bits of relationship angst, but it’s pretty much fluff stuff. Smut happens, but nothing really explicit for this. Author’s Note: This ends up outside of canon in plot, but I hope the characters are still canonical. The song Glitter in the Air by P!nk (lyrics are in italics, but you should totally listen to this gorgeous ballad) with the dialogue line in bold below, were part of a challenge/celebration I held for reaching 2k. One of my absolute favorite tumblr writers requested this pairing, and even though I’ve taken forever to write this, I hope I made her happy with it: @dancingalone21, enjoy! And thanks for all you do!

Have you ever hated yourself for staring at the phone? Your whole life waiting on the ring to prove you’re not alone…. It had been weeks. He wasn’t calling.

You shook off your melancholy and put your coffee mug into the sink, running some water in it to avoid increasing the permanence of the stain in the bottom. Not that anyone else would ever notice or care—one of the few benefits of being a single workaholic with no friends or family.

You couldn’t even be mad at yourself for having him in your head. If anyone was worth carrying a torch over, it was Dean Winchester.

He had saved your life after all.

To be fair though, you’d saved his too.

Three weeks ago:

“Who the hell…?” You started at the sound of someone knocking insistently on the door. You’d only gotten home fifteen minutes ago from your night shift at the hospital and it was way too early for visitors.

You just wanted to sleep.

But the damn knocking wasn’t going away, so you groaned as you forced your tired body out of your arm chair and peered through the peep-hole to see a tall handsome stranger with…was that a badge?

You left the chain on the door but cracked it open to get a better look.

And wow.

Tall, spiky dark blonde hair, green eyes, and a smile that instantly woke you out of your exhaustion. And when he spoke, it was in a deep rumble that seemed to echo in your chest even with the door blocking the way between most of you.

“Ms. Y/L/N? I’m Special Agent John Bonham, and I need to talk to you about what you saw tonight in the ER. Can I come in?“

You just stared at him in disbelief, your interest quickly fading to anger as he shifted his weight awkwardly.

“You are kidding me, right? John Bonham? I take it you’re a Zeppelin fan, whoever you are, but it’s early and I’m tired, so you can go away before I call the real cops.”

You went to go shut the door but the toe of his boot was in the way. For a moment you felt scared, adrenaline beginning to pump inside you. He was big, you were alone, and he was already lying.

Then you looked at him closer. His eyes were sincere, his hands spread in an innocent gesture, and… was that blood on his side?

“Okay, you’re right, I’m not a cop. But I am here to help, and I do need to ask you a few questions. Could you please trust me, just for five minutes? I don’t even have to come inside; you could come talk to me out here.” You studied him silently. “Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking, Ms. Y/L/N--, Y/N. Can I call you Y/N, please?”

Your nurse instincts were warring with your common sense, and you opened the door out to the length of the chain again.

“Are you hurt?”

At his confused look, you gestured to his side, which he touched gently before his hand came away bloody. He cursed under his breath, and looked back at you.

“I’ll be fine. Please, Y/N. Just five minutes. This is life or death.”

In your world, it seemed like everything always was.

“Who are you really?”

“My name is Dean Winchester. I hunt monsters, and I believe one of them is killing your patients. I need your help to figure out what it is before it tries to gut me again, so that I can try and kill it before it hurts even more people. Normally I’d tell you some more believable lie, or try to sweet talk you into working with me, but I really don’t have the time or patience right now.”

You looked at him, your instincts, honed by years of dealing with abuse victims and scared, hurt people, said that he was telling the truth, no matter how outlandish it seemed.

You closed your eyes and trusted, just trusted your emotions. It’s why you were who you were—you went with your gut. You closed the door, unlocked the chain and opened it wide.

“Come on in, Mr. Winchester. You can ask your questions while I look at your wound. If you aren’t bleeding to death though, I’m going to need some coffee first.”

Have you ever invited a stranger to come inside?

Present Day

That had been a whirlwind weekend, and it had changed your life forever. Something about knowing that ghosts and monsters were real made you question a lot of what you did.

Not your profession, but certainly how you lived your life. You met Sam and between your access to the hospital and medical training, and the skills they had learned from their father, the three of you had managed to figure out how the creature was killing your patients: feeding on their life energy until they went into cardiac arrest and died.

Killing it had been considerably harder though.

Dean had ended up throwing himself bodily between the monster and you, earning himself a few more wounds and enough time for Sam to stab the whatever-it-was in the heart with some kind of special blade. You hadn’t wanted to know all the details. Or see the stabbing, to be honest. But you had needed to try and protect your patients—they were your responsibility after all.

Dean had been hard headed, refusing to stay in the hospital. You’d refused to let him spend the night without a medically trained person nearby. The compromise had been simple—he came home with you.

“Stop this, Y/N,” you muttered to yourself, taking the laundry out to the washer and scolding yourself. Dwelling on Dean Winchester wouldn’t do you any good.

Not that it hadn’t been good. That night with him…. Have you ever held your breath, and asked yourself will it ever get better than tonight?

You slammed the basket on the machine, trying to focus your wayward brain on the mundane task at hand.

The man had left afterward. And he’d never offered to take you with him or see you again. He’d taken your number and never called. Messages didn’t get much clearer than that.

Dean Winchester was gone, and he wasn’t coming back. Whatever connection you had thought was between you…well, you had been wrong.

It was too bad your stupid brain seemed incapable of accepting it.

A Year Later

Ugh, thank goodness that was over.

You let the keys fall onto the small table by the door, tossing the fancy clutch purse on your sofa as you immediately stepped out of your best pair of high heels, your arches screaming at you.

The annual Gala was a great fundraiser for the hospital, but you dreaded it every year. Dressing up and sipping champagne, making nice with the board members and potential donors, keeping in mind the MRI or extra nursing staff their money could help afford—it was awful from start to finish.

You padded through your carpeted hallway, your bare feet sore and achy, but much better due to their new-found freedom.

And you’d be feeling even better once you poured yourself a vodka and coke and ate something that didn’t leave a too-expensive taste in your mouth.

A few minutes of rummaging in the fridge unearthed a bar of chocolate and a bunch of grapes. You popped the grapes in a bowl to carry and eat slowly, devoured the chocolate while you poured your drink, then headed for the French doors that led to your garden.

Your fenced in privacy garden where you could look at the stars, drink without feeling judged, and get some peace from the world. Your haven.

Your quiet, lonely haven…which, inexplicably, had Dean Winchester sitting in the middle of it, on your lounge chair.

You stopped dead in your tracks, your toes curling in the soft grass to try and ground yourself. Dean looked … delicious. It had been a year, and damn, he seemed to have only improved in that time…though you noticed a few more worry lines than you remembered on his face.

You vaguely noticed that while your eyes were wandering over him, his were devouring you, the expression on his face that of a starving man encountering his favorite food.

“Wow. I…uh, you look incredible. What’s the occasion?” Dean’s voice was just as husky as you remembered, and you fought back the shivers on your spine.

You looked down at your dark blue form-fitting dress dumbly, wondering if you were in shock.

“Hospital fundraiser.”

He held out a Starbucks coffee container towards you, “I brought you your favorite, Sugar.”

That little name. That was enough to wake you out of your daze. You walked towards him, placing the bowl of grapes and your vodka and coke on the table that usually held a book for you to read. Dean followed your lead, placing the coffee down beside them.

You sat down next to him on the lounge, your eyes fixed on the ground, trying to figure out how you felt.

Angry? Sure, there was some of that. He had left—hadn’t called in a year. And then here he was.

Relieved? Definitely. You’d considered many times that the reason for his silence might have been that he’d died. You knew what he did for a living, after all.

The rest was all jumbled.

“Sugar….Y/N are you okay?” You saw his hand move, as if he wanted to touch you, to comfort you.

“Honestly, Dean, I have no idea. It’s been nearly a year, and I’ve heard nothing. I thought…. Then there you are. Sitting in the garden, clutching my coffee…and calling me sugar. You called me sugar.” You looked at him finally, finding his eyes worried, and God, so full of emotion.

The man seemed to truly care about you in that moment, no matter what had happened in the last year.

“You’re right, Y/N, I’m sorry. I should have called it’s just—the things we’ve been through… Do you remember the sun going out? There was this thing, God nearly died, we saved him… it’s actually kind of complicated. And after that we got our Mom back from the dead, Lucifer possessed the President and fathered a child, a bunch of British assholes tried to kill us all….” He let his voice trail off as he studied the expression on my face.

When he started again, there was a hint of a smile in his voice that you didn’t really understand.

“Look, my life, my family’s life—it’s never safe. I accepted that a long time ago. And even though I wanted to, I didn’t think it would be right to bring you into that mess. So I walked away. And I didn’t call. And I’m sorry.

“But I’m back now. Because I can’t stop thinking about you, about what it meant to me when I was with you. And…fuck, I sound like some stupid chick flick.” He rubbed his face with his hands, breaking the look between the two of you.

At that moment, you tried to understand Dean—what his life was like, and how he would feel about bringing someone he cared about into that life. You trusted your instincts, your gut, and they were telling you that this was the real reason he had stayed away, why he had never called.

He did care. And he was terrified because of it.

Have you ever looked fear in the face and said, ‘I just don’t care’?

He had made the choice to come back, as hard as that choice must have been. And considering you hadn’t been able to move on from him in the slightest bit in the past year, considering the fact that you felt him in your arms in your dreams constantly—there was no way in Hell or Heaven you were going to let him walk away again.

You reached out, cupping his jaw and turning his face to look at you again.

There are a few moments in a person’s life where everything seems to slow down—when you can feel your life changing around you. As a medical professional, you’d seen it happen in the eyes of family members and your patients—the moment after which nothing else will be the same.

You’d never felt it yourself though. And even as you leaned in to kiss Dean’s lips, sealing your fate, a part of you tried to absorb the moment. It’s only half past the point of no return, his eyes fixed on your lips, his tongue moistening his own as he leaned in to meet you. The promise in his eyes, the tip of the iceberg, the sun before the burn….

The kiss was gentle, brief, and earth shattering. He leaned back, those gorgeous green eyes searching yours, as if to see if it was the same for you as for him.

The thunder before the lightning and the breath before the phrase, “Have you ever felt this way, Y/N?”

You shook your head no, lost in his eyes, the feel of his hands in your hair, this impossible moment under the stars in your private garden, and the wonderful possibilities it might lead to.

“Have you ever...?”

“No, Sugar. Never….”

Then you were kissing him again, and he was pulling you on top of him, leaning back on the lounge chair.

And it didn’t matter that the night wind was chilly on your bare skin.

It didn’t matter that it had been a year since you had been with this, or any other man.

It didn’t matter that you had no idea what tomorrow might hold.

What mattered was Dean Winchester and the way he felt, the way he made you feel.

What mattered was that moment when he was deep inside you, and every inch of your body was tight, your pulse thrumming in your ears, his name on your lips as you tipped over the edge and he held you, murmuring that he had you, that you were beautiful.

What mattered was afterwards, lying next to him and just breathing him in, your legs tangled together, fingers entwined.

“Wow… you held back last time, didn’t you?” Dean’s voice was playfully accusing, and you smiled.

“Well, you were sort of injured at the time.” You smiled up his chest, then nodded towards the table.

“Can you pass me my drink, please? I’m parched.”

What followed was a few minutes of shuffling and giggling, which felt wonderful when pressed up against each other, but finally ended with Dean on his side and you on your back next to him. You took a few swallows of your vodka and coke, proud not to have spilled any on yourself, then offered it to him.

While he finished it off, you snagged the bowl of grapes and popped a few in your mouth, bursting the small pieces of fruit between your teeth and enjoying the sharp sweet taste that flooded your mouth as a result.

Dean smiled down at you—maybe at your enjoyment, maybe at just having you beneath him after having just made love with you, but it was a beautiful expression on his face.

Have you ever fed a lover with just your hands?

You pressed a grape to his lips and he opened his mouth to take it in, kissing your fingertips in the process.

It was a sweet moment, and you remembered that first night with him, when you wondered if it could ever get better.

“Will you go with me, Y/N?” He was holding his breath, and you could feel the tension creep into his body.

You didn’t know what to say.

“I know I have no right to ask, but I’m asking anyway. I don’t want to be without you, and I can’t walk away from this life—I’ve tried before, and it never works. So… will you go with me? Will you stay with me?”

It wasn’t a declaration of everlasting love, and it wasn’t a perfect moment—the lounge wasn’t built for two people, the night air was getting positively cold as the sweat dried on your bodies, and you hadn’t been with him long enough to make this decision—but he’d asked. And you had to answer.

So, you went with your gut. It’s who you were.

“Yes, Dean.”

One Month Later

The bunker was your home now, and while moving in with Dean had created a few small problems, so far, you had been glad you’d gone with your gut.

Sam was becoming a close friend, their angelic friend/brother Castiel was odd and growing on you, and you’d even bonded with Mary, their oddly young mother. As for Dean….

If you hadn’t been completely in love with him a year ago, you certainly were now. You worried about him when you were at work at the nearby hospital, when he was on a hunt, when he woke up from nightmares from a life of killing nightmares.

But you also got to see him happy—the way he kissed you at night, the way he cooked for you, always making sure to have coffee in the kitchen for you—the way his eyes would look into yours, or the way he would study you when he thought you were sleeping, as if you were the most precious thing he had ever seen.

And here you were, standing beside the bathroom counter and waiting for a little stick of paper to change your life again. Dean was pacing outside the door—not that he’d wanted to, but because you’d asked him to. You’d needed a minute. This most important minute.

It was another one of those moments—the kind that changed everything.

Were the two of you ready to become parents?

And if you were going to be, ready or not—if that little test that you were avoiding looking at turned positive… how did you feel about that? How would Dean feel about that?

A large part of you was terrified—for all the same reasons that Dean was scared to come back to you. This wasn’t a life for family, and any Winchester child would be a target, and what the hell did you know about raising a kid anyway?

You knew Dean felt the same way with you there.

And you knew that Dean loved you, even though he was hesitant to use the words out loud. He’d whispered it to you at night, when he was holding you and watching you sleep, or he’d sometimes cry it out in passion as he reached climax with you in the bed you shared each night.

So maybe you’d both be fine. You had each other—you had his family, and they’d all been quick to welcome you for Dean’s sake.

Your watch beeped. The time had come.

You took a deep breath and made a decision—Dean had respected your need for a minute, even though you knew the suspense had to be killing him. If you were pregnant, then he had an equal part in that, and if you weren’t…well, he should know that right away too.

You grabbed the test without looking, then walked out of the bathroom and found Dean standing there, his face anxious.

“Well? Are you—we--?”

You handed him the test strip, then smiled at him.

“I’ve got no idea. I figured we should look together.”

Dean flashed you a worried smile, then flipped the little plastic cover over for the both of us to see.

The screen was clear—Yes +.

“Dean….” You took the test back, your hand moving without any conscious decision telling it to do so.

You tore your eyes away when you saw his hand move, his fingers trembling as they came to rest ever so gently on your stomach.

Have you ever been touched so gently, you had to cry.

You felt the tears brimming on your eyelids as you finally met Dean’s gaze—the wonder in his expression was overwhelming. His touch, so gentle, so protective and reverent as he stroked you through your silk nightshirt was everything you could have hoped for.

As the first tears started to slide down your cheeks, he brought up his other hand, brushing them away with his thumb, then drawing you close and kissing them away.

“Shh, Sugar. It’s going to be great. You are going to be an amazing mom, and I love you so much. I am always going to love you.”

You smiled, leaning back so he could see that your tears were happy ones.

“I know, Dean. And I love you too—so much.

“I just…there’s so much going on in my head right now. I’m scared, and I’m happy, and I’m worried, and God, I love you, but we’ve only been back together for a month, and have you ever felt this way?”

Dean chuckled pulling you into his arms and holding you tight.

“No, Sugar, never. But we’ll figure it out together.”

You melted into his arms and soaked up his solid warmth and comfort. You gripped the test strip in your hand and mumbled your agreement into your lover’s shoulder.

“Together.”

Thanks to the lovely feedback from everyone, I continued this fic to a super fluffy sequel. I hope you choose to keep reading!

“Have You, Forever”

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#Dean x reader #spnfic #fluff #slight canon divergence #not really #season 12+#spoilers for season 12 #P!nk Glitter in the Air #song fic #slight angst #dean fluff #nsfwish? not too wild though #dean winchester #doctor/nurse reader

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utopianparadoxist · 7 years

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Fearful Heart

[Author’s Note: This is a repost of Love, Faith and Fantasy–my piece on Jake and Dirk’s character arcs and the relevance of Knights and Pages in understanding them. I thought breaking it up into chunks would make the content more accessible, and give me room to flesh out each argument. Thus there will be some updates to the content. Hopefully this will mean more people can easily approach it!]

[Pt. 1 - Knights/Pages - Service and Ownage] [Pt. 2 - Faith and Fear] [Pt. 4 - Noble] [Pt. 5 - As You Wish]

So we’ve established that Jake-- as a Page of Hope, the Active Serve Class-- has a well-grounded and consistent habit of being self-serving by choosing to believe whatever is easiest for him in face of clear evidence to the contrary.

We’ve also established Jake has a habit of inspiring his friends into helping him, or outright asking them to--often while talking up his friendships and making attempts to make them feel good about themselves, stressing how much he believes in and appreciates them.

So now let’s revisit his relationship with Dirk, and try and see if understanding this changes the core conflict between them. Fandom commonly understands this conflict as being about Dirk being willing to push his high standards and agenda onto Jake, to Jake’s detriment. I believe the reality is more complicated, and also more satisfying.

So how does the Prince of Heart feel about his Page, exactly?

Let’s find out.

We get exactly one pesterlog with Dirk and Jake, and in my opinion, it is the single best pesterlog in the entire story of Homestuck.

For those who need a refresher: The log I will be quoting from is a memory from Jake’s 13th birthday, the day Dirk sent him the Brobot and confessed to being from the future. I think it’s a lot more indicative of their relationship than any logs between Jake and the AR, or anything Brain Ghost Dirk says, for a simple reason:

This is Jake and Dirk actually talking to each other. No proxies. And this is what Jake’s mind remembers and calls back to after spending his entire session up to that point...trying to reach Dirk.

And it’s only after Jake remembers that he’s dreaming that Brain Ghost Dirk adopts the sassier approach--which Jake says reminds him specifically of Hal, not Dirk himself. Jake personally draws a distinction between them.

The first thing worth pointing out is that Dirk doesn’t buy Jake’s Hothead Adventurer persona at all. Don’t get me wrong--Dirk takes Jake at his word when Jake talks about liking adventure and fighting and all of his interests, but when Jake tries to talk himself down intelligence-wise, Dirk flips his rhetoric to compliment him.

And when he brings up Rose’s book series, Dirk opens by asking if Jake’s read it. When Jake dodges and tries to lean on not being able to understand it (and asks Dirk to help him keep the secret--more of his hiding stuff to spare people’s feelings), Dirk ignores the comment and launches into a diatribe on the book’s underlying themes--knowing Jake will follow every word of it.

This perception into Jake’s true nature links into Dirk’s role as a Heart player--Nepeta similarly saw right through Karkat’s angry bluster and unpleasantness into the deeply emotional and gooey Heart underneath.

And when Jake leans on his dumb (and coded straight) adventurer’s persona to deliberately avoid letting his conversation with Dirk skirt too close to gay territory...

Dirk actually snaps at him, coming off pretty critical. It’s important to note this conversation takes place while Dirk is in the process of sending Jake the Brobot, a project he’s worked on for months and which we learn was meant to be a romantic gesture on Dirk’s part, judging by the ‘tender’ comments. So it’s safe to assume the dude’s got romantic thoughts on his mind right now.

And fairly intense ones, too: The Hal describes his memories about feeling for Jake as ‘heavily arresting’ periods of remembering ‘conflicted, incipient preteen episodes’ on the subject. This tells us that the episodes were getting started before Dirk was 13, that they involved conflicting emotions, and that they were intense enough that Hal is still essentially prey to them at times--even removed from their original biological context.

Understanding how much Dirk is thinking about romance here gives this log an entirely different tone, especially because he brings up sexuality again soon after snapping at Jake, only to once more be shut down--and with Jake taking ‘gay’ as a mean-spirited pejorative, no less.

Soon after that, Jake says something that could be read as flirty and Dirk immediately jumps on it, escalating things to thinking about actual physical proximity. When Jake points it out, Dirk gets flustered and quickly changes the subject. He then starts talking DOWN how capable he is--a sharp contrast from later Dirk talking himself up in front of Jane. They talk some more, the conversation turns to Dirk doubting his own ability to make the AR, and...

The first is that Jake explicitly notes that he appreciates Dirk being helpful--being of service. The second is that Dirk is clearly and transparently moved.

Dirk’s denizen is Yaldabaoth--an intrinsically evil Creator God--, and his issues center entirely around believing he’s in some way inherently bad or damaging to his friends.

No surprise, then, that he’s drawn to Jake specifically because Jake has faith in him as someone who can do good. This moment of confidence--Jake appreciating Dirk’s help and confiding his faith in Dirk’s ability to do what he’s set his mind to--leads directly to the creation of the AR.

It also happens to be the moment Jake and Dirk come the closest to just admitting their feelings for each other. Alas, it veers off into the future talk.

Jake believing him about the circumstance of his life is important to Dirk, too--much as Jane NOT believing Roxy is important to her.

So much so that the moment reverberates three years later, as Jake dreams about it, through Brain Ghost Dirk delivering a line that is actually unique enough to jar Jake out of the memory--essentially, Dirk’s feelings slipping through the Ghost to wake Jake up to his reality:

Brain Ghost Dirk implies Dirk thinks Jake’s faith is impressive, further undercutting the less relevant reasons Dirk gives Jane for letting Hal hassle him.

So this could be one of the most moving things Jake ever says to Dirk, and it comes at a time when his emotions and romantic feelings are already running high. Which makes it a real shame what happens next.

Jake reacts horribly to the Brobot’s design...

...Which Dirk responds to with a question. Jake spends most of his life up until now talking up his love of fights, challenges and adventure, so Dirk asks for clarification. He then asks Jake to trust him, trying to sell the idea--but Jake makes it pretty clear he dislikes it.

Which is why I really can’t parse him changing the subject as some cold-blooded act of manipulation. This conversation has been a rollercoaster for Dirk--he’s been built up, torn down, and sent a ton of mixed messages.

The big romantic overture he had planned blew up in his face, and he can’t really do anything to fix it without exposing Jake to the danger of the monsters again. Dirk wants to be done by this point, I think, and I would be too.

And the tragedy is? I don’t buy that this was Dirk imposing some Training Program on Jake out of his personal perspective that Jake needs to improve. At this point, I’d need a strong argument to convince me of the reading. It leaves too big a plot hole, and there’s a more obvious canonical explanation for it anyway.

Because if Dirk was willing to unilaterally impose training on Jake because he needed to be stronger, then it begs the question:

Why not the same functionality for Jane? Are we putting it down to some completely canonically unaddressed misogyny? Jane is in as much danger as any of them, and far more unprepared. If he felt that strongly and was that willing to control, does it really make sense to think he’d stop short of training her personally to ensure their success?

Consider the alternative possibility:

That when trying to romance his best friend, Dirk approached the situation logically. Jake talks about loving adventure all the goddamn time. Dirk knows he doesn’t actually do any adventures.

But he believes Jake that he wants to. And he wants to be helpful for two reasons, one being winning Jake’s appreciation and romantic affections. The second we’ll talk about later.

The solution? Simple.

Set up an elaborate scenario in which Jake can experience all the adventure he wants--while also keeping him safe from monsters. Essentially, Dirk is trying to enable Jake to actually start living out his fantasy in a safe environment, and Jake inspires in Dirk the desire to help him in this way through Hope for romantic reciprocation.

Dirk isn’t interested in controlling Jake English at all. He’s trying to Serve him.

Which he succeeds at! Over the long run, Jake does indeed grow to view the chase as an adventure, and admits to finding the whole experience of the Brobot kind of exciting in confidence with Jane. I’d have to hear explanations if someone wanted to square this with Jake perceiving it as abusive, personally.

Hence why Jake levels up when he’s trounced. Jake got owned, sure--but he was also getting served, as in he got the adventure experience that he wanted. Note, by the way, the butler imagery--which for the most part recurs continually centered around Jake and Dave.

Which makes these lines Dirk delivers three years later, directly to the audience:

Straight up lies. It’s Dirk hiding from his hurt and confusion by destroying his own perceived fuckups with his fabricated Stoic Coolguy Warrior persona--the same way Jake hides from his own by burying them under his beliefs.

In reality, all Dirk wants is to try to make what Jake wants possible. Which is very fitting, because there’s only one thing Dirk wants more than Jake himself. As we just established, what Dirk wants is to be believed in. To be valued and wanted. To be of service, to be necessary, to be good. And specifically...

To be like Dave Strider. Next time, we’ll talk about Dirk’s desire to live up to Dave’s image, how he really feels about his friends, and how all of this affects his relationship with Hal.

This series has been a passion project, but also a side project to my youtube series aimed at welcoming and explaining Homestuck to new, incoming Hiveswap fans. If you find yourself trying to make it easier for a Hiveswap fan to understand what Homestuck is about and how it connects to the game, I hope you think of me.

If you like my writing and have a buck to spare, you could also really help me out by enabling me to focus on putting more of this content out there through pledging on Patreon. Doing so will also give you access to my private community of enthusiasts trying to advance new and interesting readings of this wonderful property.

See you again soon, everyone. Until then,

Keep rising.

#Homestuck #Dirk Strider #Jake English #Knights/Pages #Princes/Bards #Dirkjake #My MSPA Analysis

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podcasts-8-my-heart · 7 years

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Starry

Ste X Harry playlist from Hollyoaks

Author’s Note: This “playlist” was written around December of last year before some of the newer Hollyoaks episodes came out and changed the way Ste and Harry’s relationship was going, so this is semi-canon up until the episodes after a certain point. There’s also a bit of plot overlap between certain songs but I just want to get this off my hard drive and into the real world. If you want to borrow pieces for a story just cite me please.

Albums used: Fall Out Boy’s Folie à Deux and American Beauty/American Psycho.

Irresistible- Their relationship while they were hiding from Sinead. Harry wants to keep coming back to Ste, as he loves him. He loves the way Ste plays hard to catch while they’re hiding their relationship away from the other people. Along with hiding Harry’s kiss with John Paul from the others, which started to build the romantic attraction between Ste and Harry.

<i&gtFourth of July-Relationship once the first kiss which started the chain reaction of events. They trade places with who’s singing through the song. Harry tries to put his imprint on Ste, who eventually caves in, as Harry gives Cleo up after he falls into Ste’s love trap. Their love is quite spicy and “I’ll be as honest as you let me.” -Lyric for the both of them, mainly Ste.

The Kids Aren’t Alright- Their relationship after it was exposed when John Paul pulled the curtain down exposing Ste and Harry (both shirtless) kissing. “In the end, I’d do it all again; I think you’re my best friend.” Ste and Harry after Harry’s dad found out about them being together and how he’s in mortal shock. Tony then finds out that Harry booked a room for him and Ste, using Ste’s married name, McQueen, since that was the name on the credit card. Since the school thought that the certificate was for Harry and John, they question John and he then loses his job because Harry lied about not registering the certificate (the school has no clue that Ste and John are “married” to each other.) Harry then feels guilty after seeing John Paul bring the box of his personal items out of the school. Harry then goes to the Principal and recanted his earlier statement about how John initiated the kiss. He then tells the Principal the whole truth about the fact that he went to a (gay) club, talked to John Paul and initiated the kiss. He also states that John didn’t know that Harry was a student, as he thought that Harry looked older than what he actually is and the fact that he (Harry) didn’t know that John was a teacher, let alone new his English teacher. John Paul gets his job back, Harry gets teased for kissing John Paul and gets in a fight with a kid, resulting in getting a week of detentions. When John got his job back prompts him to mention the fact that Harry’s failing English class to Tony, Harry’s phone gets suspended while John tutors him. Ste thinks that Harry dumped him because he didn’t show up for the date and Harry later explains why he didn’t respond to Ste’s texts, because his dad took the phone during the tutoring session. Ste is relieved to find out that Harry didn’t break up with him. (It switches between Ste and Harry for who’s singing throughout the song).

America’s Suitehearts- Ste’s singing and looking at Harry while he’s singing. He’s talking about all the issues they’ve gone through together. And the level in which they love each other, no matter how many fall outs and ins they’ve had together since their near kiss in the porter-room. So in a sense John and Sinead got the two together without them realizing (slightly) until the porter-room incident.

Uma Thurman- Starry’s relationship status in the body of a girl or Cleo/Sidean? Also talks about getting rid of Ste’s “issue” with Coke and alcohol. Harry can be the “you”, but part of the time Ste could be the “you” and the “she” could be Sinead or Cleo, most likely Sinead, because she was trying to get Scott and Harry together. Cue Harry and Ste getting locked in the porter-room. Harry also keeps the romance blooming even if Ste tries to stop him.

She’s My Winona- the relationship put into words. It also mentions going to the hospital which could be for all those times Ste ended up the hospital because of how Harry started it in some form or another. Ex. Alex(?) and Kyle Butch(?) beating up Ste outside of the Flying Rainbow because Ste put his arm around Harry because he knows that Harry’s gay, even if he won’t admit it. When Kyle and A see Ste “touching” Harry in a gay manner, they beat him up. Harry was too scared to stop the brothers, but he did call for an ambulance to get Ste to the Hospital. Ste calls Harry after he wakes up after Sinead left to get coffee. He tells Harry to pick up or he’ll regret it. Harry gets excluded from the team because of the incident with Ste. Harry admits to the police that he “did it and beat Ste up because he got mad at him and he punched and kicked Ste.”, the statement is in fact a lie as we know that the Butch (?) brothers truly did it. Ste’s shocked that Harry turned himself in, even though he knows that Harry didn’t do anything when he was getting beat up by the brothers. Harry only stood by and watched Ste get beat up and feel shame for him. Later the brothers are somewhat turned in by Harry’s friend, Zach, but Ste remembers them beating him up and admits that they were the ones who beat him up, saving Harry from jail. + the time that Ste got sent to the hospital after he attempted to clean up and relapsed again.

Headfirst slide into Cooperstown On A Bad Bet- Harry’s singing to Ste. (But part of the lyrics are from when Ste and Sinead were together and Harry’s still singing. He’s also singing about John Paul. He’s also partly singing at John directly.)

I Don’t Care- Starry’s relationship in a bottle, especially Ste and his “issue” + his HIV. Along with what people think about them and their sexuality. Along with how Ste feels about what Sinead did after she found out Ste was with Harry even though she said that she gave him the all clear pass to go out with men once in a while. Since the relationship has been riding around people and lots of problems. They still survived after Harry almost got stuck at his old boarding school, which Ste rescued him from as he got sent there because he couldn’t tell his dad that he was with Ste, so he lied and said that Ste was giving him Coke. Ste’s a pretty awesome dude for putting up with so many relationship issues even with other people in the past that caused issues between multiple people.

Jet Pack Blues-When Ste had to go and get Harry, along with the point when Ste relapsed and started doing Coke again after Harry turned 18. Harry couldn’t believe how the “break up” that Ste proclaimed on his birthday affected Ste’s emotional stability. “She” through the the song flips from Harry and Sinead several times. “She(Harry)’s in long black coat tonight; waiting for me in the downpour outside, singing, "baby come home.” In a melody of tears, while the rhythm of the rain keeps time.“

W.A.M.S.- relationship when kisses and hugs are involved. Along with their issues and fix-ups especially with Ste’s "track record” which Harry still loves him, no matter what Ste does. Also when they are trying to survive the school issues and still be in love. Good for Fluffy Drabbles.

Centuries-Amount of time it took the boys to figure out that they were in love with each other after the Porter-room incident, dancing on tiptoes around Sinead and Harry’s dad. Also Harry could be signing at Ste and how he didn’t want Ste to use drugs to “fix” their relationship and he’s singing that he could be Ste’s choice for fixing up his act.

27- their emotions throughout their relationship. Along with the part when Ste’s been fighting against the Coke use again. “I gotta lot of friends who are stars; but some of them are just black holes. (In the Starry relationship)”. Harry takes in Ste’s mess-ups and rebounds no matter what the results are. He also keeps the secrets locked up in his head when needed.

West Coast Smoker- Ste’s issues combined with Harry witnessing what happens when Ste does them. Ex. Spray painting the floor with “Ste+Harry 4eva” in a heart shape at his school near his locker. It also causes Harry to think about if what he had with Ste was true or not. Ste’s singing and trying to fix up his act.

20 Dollar Nose Bleed- Harry’s reaction to his dad trying to send him off to the private school and Ste rescuing him from the school. Along with the time the condom split after Sinead and Ste did it, so they had to go to the hospital due to Ste’s HIV. Benzedrine can reference to Ste. The flags represent when they had their first “Hollyoaks Pride” parade and they were kissing in the booth that had gay pride flags covering it. “Have you ever wanted to disappear?” Is talking about Ste and Sinead’s relationship and when she did disappear after her jealousy of Ste and Harry’s relationship ate her up from the inside. Along with after John pulled the booth covering down (he was jealous of what Ste had with Harry, and the fact that neither of them were clearing the fact that Sinead wasn’t the one who cheated, rather it was Ste) revealing Ste and Harry kissing rather passionately. (Follow with The Kids Aren’t Alright)

What A Catch, Donnie- Ste and Harry’s relationship before it got exposed when Ste went to the hospital after he slept in the cold after he got punched, right after he “started” to get clean, then relapsed again. Ste still wanted Harry after the relapse even though he rejected Harry on his 18th birthday. Also talks about when Ste was still with Sinead, and how walking around with Harry after she left was harder.

The (Shipped) Gold Standard- Harry wanting to confess to Ste, but his dad is to close so he can’t. He wants to keep the relationship secret. Especially when Sinead was around.

American Beauty/American Psycho- Ste’s singing at Harry, partly from when he was in love with Sinaed, but the other part is after she left. And partly when they broke apart for a little bit. “She” can also be referring to Harry as well, as they became deeply in love after the near kiss in the porter-room.

Favorite Record- Danced at Harry/Ste’s house when they had their first date. Along with what went on that night. Also mentions driving back from rescuing Harry from the Academy and seeing how deeply Harry affects Ste. Ste’s got the honor of singing this song. It also mentions “You know how much better off I am.” Dec line.

Tiffany Blews- Ste’s singing about Sinead before and after she left for part of the time, the rest he’s singing to Harry. Also one line is sung by Harry, “Dear gravity you held me down in this star-lit city”.

Disloyal Order of the Water Buffaloes- Ste almost getting sent to jail when he was getting rid of the Coke and alcohol, because Harry’s dad called the police to try and get him away from Harry. Also the beginning may refer to John and Harry’s kiss that Harry initiated. Also mentions Ste restarting the Coke and alcohol. It might also be talking at Ste and Harry’s singing to try and get Ste to clean his act up.

Pavlove- Talks about Ste and how he was “trying to corrupt” Harry as everyone says his relationships do with people.

(Coffee’s For Closers)- Ste and Harry after Harry admits he’s gay. Ste kind of celebrates but Tony (Harry’s dad) isn’t comfortable with Ste and Harry together. #Starryforever and how Tony’s reaction causes Harry to spend more time in his room after his dad’s reaction. Ste also feels heartbroken after Harry yells at him and tells him that they’re over… Yet a few days later they’re kissing again and Tony tells Ste to stay away from Harry.

Novocaine- When Ste when back on Coke, and how it caused the relationship to go down hill quite quickly. And how Harry couldn’t believe how different Ste was on Coke than when he was clean. It also causes him to realize that he’s better off without the drugs and alcohol because that caused the relationship he built up with Harry to spiral into a dark, messy chaos. “I’m just a problem that doesn’t want to be solved.” -Sums Ste up when he was on the drugs quite clearly. When he was on Coke he was very numb to how Harry was feeling towards him.

Immortals- Harry’s singing, he’s comparing Ste’s record to his love for him. He wants to be with Ste forevermore, till death does them part.

Twin Skeleton’s (Hotel In NYC)- “Promises are made if you just hold on.” Ste’s singing about Harry being his drug replacement and how Harry’s going to fix him up before he causes the relationship to pitfall. And that Harry just needs to “hold on” to what they’ve got.

#StarryForever Hollyoaks

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ass-sass-sin-archived-blog · 7 years

Note

Codex Prompts

11. Your OC’s description of their game’s events

Several sheets of parchment are found stuffed in Talon’s old desk, folded and starting to yellow with age. The writing is hurried, as though the author were trying to get the words down on the page before they could escape, even more so as it went on. Spelling mistakes litter the pages, dated 9:65 Dragon. (Under cut for length.)

Look. I ain’t no story teller. That’s Varric’s job. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned from all this shit, is that history gets rewritten to suit whoever damn well wants to be in charge. Or just conveniently forgotten entirely. I ain’t stupid, and everyone knew from the beginning that if that damn dwarf ever wrote a book on this shit, no one’s gonna believe it. I don’t care if no one reads this, or if you use it for fire kindling, but at least it’s out and written down. That is what matters. Maybe then I can process it. It feels like a lifetime ago and I guess in a way it is.

I woke up a prisoner, swords pointed at me, and with a killer headache. Kinda figured I got wasted and fucked up big time, which really wouldn’t have surprised me none. Nah, that ain’t it though. There were peace talks going on at the Conclave, Temple of Sacred Ashes. Mages and Templars trying to sort out their differences and stop the fucking war between them that caught up the rest of Southern Thedas in it. Turns out the entire thing went up in flames (figuratively I think, literally, it was an explosion) and that caused this giant hole in the sky that shat out demons everywhere. Tore a hole in the Veil. I wound up with this fucking glowing green mark on my hand (later we called it the Mark or the Anchor, why the Anchor, fuck if I know) and turns out that (surprise) this weird magicky shit can fix things.

Didn’t know that off the bat though. First day I was awake Cassandra took me to show me what happened, ended up meeting Solas and Varric along the way. Solas “had a feeling” the Mark could close the rift we were dealing with (Oh yeah, there were OTHER smaller holes in the sky that were also shitting demons everywhere, real fun time let me tell you- not) which surprise, it could. (Explanation later.) Also important note the Mark was trying to kill me because ~magic~.

Decide “oh, let’s use that to seal the Maker’s asshole (the Breach) that’s currently shitting demons everywhere even though you just woke up” which amazingly worked. Woke up, apparently in three days I went from being blamed for the Divine’s death (ok so just because I’ve killed a lot of people even prior to this doesn’t mean she was on my hit list, rude fucks) to being named the fucking Herald of Andraste. My name’s not Harold, it’s Talon. Which was bullshit and I knew it even then, but nooooo religious fanatics have decided that THAT was who pulled my dumb ass out of the Fade. Alrighty.

Cassandra Pentaghast and Leliana (later Divine Victoria) start the Inquisition again. I think they’re both insane, because they kept asking my help to run shit.

Anyways, there’s this issue with the mages rebelling against the Circles and the Templars basically had gone rogue. We needed help properly sealing the Maker’s asshole (because apparently the first time was only a temporary fix?) and oh yeah we were declared heretics by the Chantry. Apparently they only do that to organizations and not individuals, because I’m surprised they took so long declaring me one. Whatever.

Asked the mages for help. Decided to power up the Mark and see what happened. Little catch though, turns out that Venatori (Vint cultists) “took in” the rebel mages. Long story short there, head Venatori dude threw me and Dorian Pavus (really awesome guy) a year forward into time, we got back to regular time, and kicked his ass and sealed the Breach. Don’t ask details, I don’t fucking know. I’m no mage.

Apparently that pissed off the darkspawn wanna be god named Corypheus who was the mastermind behind the Conclave explosion (if you could call him a mastermind). He and the Templars and Venatori attacked Haven and caught us by surprise, the others got out while I dumped a mountain of snow on them, apparently everyone thought I died. Surprise motherfuckers, I didn’t.

Find Skyhold because Solas used his super elfy senses to find the place (for real though, Skyhold’s a pretty great place, well defendable and it’s a fucking castle), set up base camp there and get ourselves situated. Save Crestwood from undead (almost as bad as darkspawn I’m telling you), meet more awesome people, blah blah blah, Inquisitor to the rescue again. Oh yeah, I got named Inquisitor, that was not fun. You’d have thought we talked about that before, but nah man. Guess not. “Surprise, you have two titles and no last name, congrats” ok then.

Met Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall. Awesome guy, great drinking buddy. Wardens are disappearing, followed that trail to Adamant Fortress. Turns out Corypheus was manipulating the Calling and freaking them all out and somehow that translated into “let’s make a demon army with blood magic”. And I thought I made bad decisions. Kicked ass, stopped the ritual, fell into the Fade. Again.

Going into the Fade isn’t fun, don’t do it. 0/10, would not recommend. Find out the old Divine, Divine Justinia saved me not Andraste (surprise everyone, I was right it wasn’t Andraste) and the Wardens were using her as a sacrifice or something so Corypheus could enter the Black City and claim godhood. Dude’s seriously delusional. Warden Stroud stayed behind to hold off the demons letting us escape at the end of it all.

Other note, formalities suck ass, parties more, and Orlesians the most. Usually Josephine Montilyet is the one who dealt with that shit (especially after I told someone apparently important to go fuck a nug) but no, gotta have the Inquisitor at the parties. Oh yeah, Orlais was also in a civil war because Gaspard wanted Celene’s throne. Slimy bastard. Anyways turns out there was an assassin in the group ready to dispose of Celene, turned out that assassin was Florienne her cousin. Fun shit, seriously. Assassins, that I can do.

Blah blah blah, sealing rifts, going dragon hunting, helping the little people and flipping off nobles, same shit different day. Good times, kinda.

Elfy things. Always with the fucking elfy things. I like elves more than the next guy probably, but damn. So much elf shit to sort through. Turns out Fuckface Mcgee (that’s Corypheus, keep up) is wanting some shit at an old elfy place. Alright, cool. Wind up in the Arbor Wilds, searching for the Temple of Mythal. Also something something red lyrium is bad shit, don’t do it. Anyways, wind up there, run into some old ass elves. Kick ass together, had to drink the Well of Sorrows or Corypheus gets his hands on it. Apparently this holds a shit ton of old elven knowledge collected over the years and drinking binds you to their god Mythal who’s seen as a protector. I wasn’t touching that shit thanks, pushed Morrigan in since she was so eager.

Not entirely sure what all Morrigan learned, not sure I wanna know honestly. Anyways she learned how to turn into a dragon and is now bound to her mother (Who’s kinda Mythal? Don’t ask I don’t really know.). I want to be a dragon damnit.

Get dragged back down south to the Frostback Basin. Apparently the last Inquisitor’s last known location was there and we get to go searching for him. It seemed like it could be useful and fun. It wasn’t fun. Meet friendly Avvar who were really nice, allied with them, turns out there’s this fortress with a gate encased in impenetrable ice. Still wondering how they got supplies in and out of there really, never did sort that out. Took care of that with some really awesome ancient Tevene tech that I wanna poke at more, and apparently Inquisitor Ameridan is

1. An elf2. Had set out to slay Hakkon.

Guess what Hakkon is. A god. Specifically, a dragon-god. Got the whole “by the way, I barely was able to contain him with my magic you can do the honors because I was too weak have fun” speech before Ameridan died. Did that. Went to the Deep Roads.

The Deep Roads fucking SUCK. I am from Ferelden, I lived there through the Blight, my hometown was destroyed during it, I’ve seen more than my share of fucking darkspawn by the time I was 10. No thanks. Met Shaper Valta who’s really smart and the Legion of the Dead, we kept going deeper and deeper into the Deep Roads dealing with darkspawn. Yuck. Turns out the earthquakes jeopardizing the lyrium mines (which is why we were called, to secure this) was being caused by a Titan. Who woke up or whatever it is they do. Surprise, lyirum is Titan blood and this thing’s attacking us and shit and gotta kill it. Alrighty. Did that.

Kicked Corypheus’s ass. Soundly. We’ve defeated an actual god and not a raving lunatic, a Titan, and a shit ton of dragons. This shit was in a bag. Problem solved. Except not.

Fast forward 2 years, no one’s happy with us. Ferelden wants us disbanded, Orlais wants us to be “honor guard of the Divine” who ended up being our old spymaster Leliana. Told them to go fuck themselves. Uncover a Qunari plot to blow up the whole Winter Palace, deal with that and another dragon. Run into Solas who disappeared after the battle with Corypheus. Turns out he gave the orb to him because ~reasons~, elven gods are all assholes, and oh yeah got to go into the Crossroads (which is like a really weird world between worlds?) and yeah. Solas is also apparently the elven god Fen’harel. Surprise. Lost my arm because the mark was trying to murder my ass again, and from what I’ve been told I stormed into the Exalted Council, threw the book at the Orlesian rep’s face (with surprising accuracy considering how wasted I was) and told them I’m disbanding the Inquisition and they can all go fuck themselves.

Best drunk decision ever.

And that’s the jist of what happened with the Inquisition.

#fxdctouchcd #this got so long #omg #A+ scholarly material right there lmao #please imagine this being used as historical documents by historians and in classrooms in the modern age

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dontjudgemeimawriter · 3 years

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When to Give Constructive Criticism: Fitting it to the draft

I’ve gotten pretty good at giving constructive criticism (I think), and I felt like I should lay out some advice.

If you’re a decently experienced writer, you can kinda tell what kind of draft it is by looking at it. There are different kinds of drafts you might be looking at. Knowing what type of writing and writer this is is will help. If you, for example, give to amateur writer who doens’t super know what they’re doing but has just started to get excited a deeply constructive critique, it can kill their excitement. But if you give me, a decently experienced writer, some generic “It was great, you have great ideas” then I’m going to be frustrated, especially if I’m looking for something constructive.

When NOT to be constructive

>When this is obviously a beginner.

You can tell when they’re a beginner. Maybe they don’t start a new paragraph with dialogue. Maybe they put exclamation marks in their narration. Maybe the first scene is a loner teen girl getting ready for her day and you feel like some band is about to adopt them. I can usually tell right away just by the voice, and that’s something I can’t pinpoint, but I can feel it, and as soon as I feel it I can spot other problems.

I say don’t be constructive here. Even if they want to know what you really think. Tbh, I try to avoid even getting to the point of giving feedback on these, just because it’s difficult for me to read, but sometimes it’s an assignment in your creative writing class or you already said you would because you’re The Writer Friend.

Here’s what you do for a beginner: avoid any line edits-- there will be too much. Instead, find the good things-- there will probably be something that’s a good idea, something that’s interesting. Some decent story idea that is currently trapped in beginner writing. Find it and pull it out, find things to like about it. And then ask questions! Encourage them to explore the answers-- word it like “I love this idea, you’ve made me curious about this. Are you going to explore the answer in future chapters?” Never suggest that it should have been there already-- it’s hard as a beginner to take feedback as constructive and instead it can feel like you did it wrong.

The only thing a beginner can do wrong is stop writing. You job is to encourage and validate them, and by finding a good idea and asking questions about it, they can be driven to write further.

(This could backfire in that they keep asking you for feedback further on.)

>When it’s obviously raw writing

Usually this won’t come up with people asking for feedback. For me this happens in a discord I’m in where after a sprint we post excerpts of it. It’s harder to tell here-- some people’s freewriting can sound VERY professional-- but context will help. If it’s posted on tumblr it may be tagged as something or indicated somewhere (If it’s just posted on tumblr, they probably don’t want constructive criticism anyway).

Raw writing is messy, but that doesn't mean you can’t be proud of it. Critiquing raw writing is useless. The only criticism I ever give to something like that is, if I’m friendly with the person, “Let yourself be messy when you’re drafting this sounds way too eloquent for a draft.”

Show excitement here! Show intrigue! Find things that draw you in, that make you wonder what’s going on, that make you interested in reading more. If there’s not a plot thing or a character, find something in the writing-- but don’t prioritize that. Style is not important in raw writing, though if it jumps out at you, go ahead and compliment!

>When it’s writing that the writer has no intention of writing the rest of

They might be answering a prompt or just going off their mind. If something’s confusing maybe point that out, but don’t be too critical-- it’s not supposed to be A Thing.

It’s good to show intrigue here or interest in story events, and if you think it has a lot of potential go ahead and encourage more. But the best thing to focus on here actually is style-- even if it’s raw. Their voice and style will be carried into other projects, not necessarily that plot. If you know this person and their other writing, it might be good to say like “The description is really good here, I’d like to see more of that in [their current] project].” But in general, things you like are best here.

>When they share it because they’re excited not because they want feedback

“Hey! I wrote a thing!”

Love it! Again, find something to like. They aren’t asking for feedback, just validation.

Perhaps once you read and say what you like about it, ask if they want more in-depth feedback.

>When it’s already published

No point in constructive feedback here, they can’t do anything about it. If you think they can take it you may be able to say what you didn’t like-- big things, not nitpicking-- but if not, just say things you liked about it (Even if you’re lying) and move on.

When giving Constructive Criticism

The different stages of drafts correspond to what type of criticism you’re giving. Are you a beta reader, an editor, or a proofreader?

>Beta

Ignore grammatical and spelling errors, unless you’re confused by the mistake. Ignore confusing or badly worded sentences, unless you missed something, in which case, it’s not “Fix this sentence like this to make more sense” it’s “Did I get this right? [restate what’s happening]”

Pay most attention to emotions while reading, things the author did well, moments you felt were slow. Critique when there’s plot holes or character inconsistencies or the character is flat or the description goes on to long (I got bored reading all this). And of course, if you’re sensitivity reading, pay attention to that in a critical way-- good idea to, even if you think something is okay, point out if it’s a bit iffy, why you thin it’s okay but also why someone might disagree).

Read like a reader, judge it based on how you’d judge a book you pick up for fun, with the ability to live-comment your reactions, and do so! If something surprises you, comment it, if you have a prediction, add it. But if something was too obvious, also say so. Pay attention to your feelings while reading and word it accordingly, rather than as instruction.

>Editor

Assuming you’re not a professional editor, in which case do your job. But if this is a later draft and they want you to give them real harsh feedback so they can fix it up:

Grammatical/spelling errors: I think it’s fine to point these out, but it’s not your job to look for them, and if there’s a bunch, I encourage one note (This paragraph is in present tense instead of past; Proper punctuation is to have a comma at the end of dialogue that’s tagged; etc) rather than fixing every one.

Do point out confusing sentences and suggest ways to clarify.

For the most part, reactions aren’t your job here, but channel those into advice/compliments. Look at why it’s happening-- instead of “Oooh I’m really nervous!” say “You’ve done a great job building suspense here!” or instead of “I got bored reading this exposition,” maybe “simplify the explanation here”

Point out character inconsistencies and plot holes, and actively look for them. Reread it a few times to figure it out, and bring in some analysis. Suggest subtle changes they could make, metaphors that may help, if the narration needs to be closer. Ask why they made certain choices and what they’d need to do to make those effective.

>Proofreader

Usually this isn’t your job unless specifically asked. It can be annoying, no matter your level of experience, to open feedback and see nothing but typo corrections. This is low priority until the final draft.

If you are asked to proofread though, read carefully, point out grammatical errors and typos. Reactions and large scale plot edits aren’t your concern-- if they’re really bad you may want to say “You might want to look at this plot element,” but it’s not your job to tear that apart-- you may want to ask them if they want you to, but then you become an editor, not proofreader.

>Incomplete drafts

Incompletes require a separate category, just because you can’t do the same thing. You can’t find plot holes and it may be hard to find character inconsistencies. You can, though, point out things that are interesting, things that are flat, and plenty of other things to criticize.

Them giving you an incomplete draft, though, likely means that they are looking for some validation, but they want to know if it has potential. Some people can take you telling them it has none, but that’s not usually the case. All stories have potential, I think, but that doesn’t always mean the writer will be good at it at first.

Do everything you might do as a beta, or even an editor, but instead of anything being wrong, it’s something to fix in the future, as they keep writing. Point out things that may trip them up now-- maybe a plot hole can be patched as they write-- and plot threads they should follow.

One note, though, is it’s okay to point out when they have a scene or tidbit that doesn’t add anything, but you never know if it will in the future, and imo, it’s okay to have some useless stuff in a first draft, especially if it’s a wip. Saying you didn’t see the point tot he scene can be helpful if they thought it did, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it has no place there.

On a closing note, something to keep in mind when receiving feedback

Something that took me a while to learn, something I have to remind myself, is that no matter what, a draft is okay. The critique I get doesn’t mean I should have done it like that in the first place, all it means is that I can improve it later. being a good writer isn’t about having a perfect first draft, and critiques are not evidence of being bad at it.

#constructive criticism #feedback #writing feedback #editing #beta reading #advice #long post

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ciathyzareposts · 4 years

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Game 365: Muryaden (1989)

You are not misinterpreting this screen. The troll is having his genitals stimulated by a magic stone. It’s that kind of game.

Muryaden

France

Elrik et Deckard (developers); Bytlejuice (publisher)

Released in 1989 for Apple II

Date Started: 12 May 2020

Date Ended: 14 May 2020

Total Hours: 5 Difficulty: Moderate (3/5) Final Rating: (to come later) Ranking at time of posting: (to come later)

At first glance, Muryaden is another Ultima clone, but I guess it was intended as a sort of anti-Ultima. It was made by developers who held at least mild contempt for not only Lord British but the entire history of American RPGs. I get this from a web page that one of the authors used to maintain; I would appreciate if anyone who speaks French fluently would scan this page and let me know if there’s anything in the following account that I got wrong. I can read French, but I’m having trouble with this French, which seems to include a lot of slang and nonstandard uses of words. Do French people really use ricaines as a slur for “Americans”?

Anyway, the chief complaint of Elrik and Deckard seems to be that the American approach to fantasy RPGs was too “clean.” They were less interested in high fantasy of the Tolkien type and more interested in gritty Conan-style sword and sorcery, with attendant sex and gore. In their authors’ desires to ensure that their programs wouldn’t be banned by “austere Puritan traditionalists,” they argued, American RPGs always take place in a “quasi-religious atmosphere” in which a noble purifier “arrives at the right time to deliver the world from a diabolical oppressor.” The plots are interchangeable and the universes are “clean and hygienic,” with no sex, brothels, or even any latrines.

The game is credited to “Elrik” and “Deckard.”

I think the authors go a bit too far in imputing motive to American RPG developers (and not far enough in appreciating them for, you know, inventing the genre in the first place), but I’ll concede that they have a point. American CRPGs in the 1980s are awfully vanilla. I don’t know that the solution lies in graphic descriptions of demon ejaculate, but at least it gets points for originality.

The backstory for the game thus reads less like someone trailblazing a new era in realism and more like the fruits of the perverse imaginations of two sex-starved young men. I’m going to elide quite a lot, partly to prevent Google from putting an NC-17 warning on my blog, partly because I didn’t always understand the language, and partly because I just found it gross. Some misunderstandings of my previous positions have led to an incorrect “The CRPG Addict has a problem with breasts!” belief, but I have no problem with the perception that I have a problem with graphic description of anal manipulations with tentacles. That belief is 100% accurate.

The story begins when a sorcerer named Mithgul moved into the middle of a fairly generic fantasy kingdom. He holed himself up in his fortress and got to work on various inventions and experiments, almost all of a sexual nature. He created a “stone of beauty,” an artifact that endowed its holder with “unlimited charisma,” such that he could drive a crowd of people to mass suicide. He mated humans with demons and beasts to produce all kinds of abominations. He collected fluid samples from dozens of species and invented a number of creative aphrodisiacs.

The game is at first visually indistinguishable from one of the Ultimas.

Mithgul’s efforts came to an end when the seed of a demon mixed with some other chemicals and caused an explosion that destroyed Mithgul’s tower. Unfortunately, the escaping vapors engulfed the nearby town of Bar-Calenlad and turned the entire population into nymphomaniacs, leading to massive population growth. A local order of paladins didn’t have any hope of maintaining their chastity vows, and soon their fortress had expanded enough in population to form a new city, Bar-Tolainor. Trolls escaping from Mithgul’s dungeon formed their own city, Echorkeliant. Generations later, each city has developed its own sado-sexual traditions. Lately, a villain named Beltrik the Skatomancer has re-inhabited the ruins of the fortress. He’s kidnapped the daughter of King Valdrin and caused such strife among the trolls that they’ve split into two factions. Into this milieu, the character is dropped without an explicit quest yet.

Character creation.

Character creation doesn’t break much new ground. You assign a name and race (human, elf, dwarf, hobbit), after which the game randomly rolls for wisdom, strength, dexterity, and intelligence, modified by race. These four attributes together determine the derived statistics of vitality, charisma, skill, and perception. Your choice of class (sorcerer, priest, warrior, thief) has further effects on these statistics, and finally you can specify a “type” (charmer, skillful, attentive, resistant) that makes further modifications.

My early-game character sheet.

The game begins with the character standing on the plains outside Bar-Calenlad. The game world is a small 58 x 58, but it seems larger because of frequent random encounters. There are the three cities mentioned in the backstory plus a few dungeons and Castle Gondarnost. The interface follows Ultima‘s tradition of mapping commands to individual keys, such as C)hercher (search), O)uvrir (open), and P)énétrer (enter, as in a city).

Can someone tell me what the phrase y-a peau d’Zébi means?

Enemies mostly include fantasy standards like orcs, trolls, bandits, mercenaries, zombies, kobolds, and giant spiders and snakes. They’re not seen in the environment until they attack. Combat is a little more complex than Ultima but not quite as complex as, say, Wizardry. You face only one enemy at a time, and you have options to fight, change weapons, cast a spell, use an object, advance, back off, surrender, or steal. “Advance” and “back off” are unusual commands, but there’s a distance consideration in combat, with enemies and characters occupying four potential spaces from très proche (very close) to très loin (very far). Certain weapons work better (or don’t work at all) at various distances.

Fighting an ettin from “close enough.”

The cities are menu cities that offer various options depending on the city. Bar-Calenlad offers an inn, a Temple of Eros, a guild, an alchemist, a weapon/armor shop, and a fence. Early on, I didn’t understand the options for the other places, so I just bought a dagger and robe (the only items my strength would let me wield) and headed out to fight.

Menu options in the troll city of Echorkeliant.

It took me a lot of deaths (fortunately, reloading is quick) before I realized the importance of getting physically close to the enemy when all you have is a dagger. The good news is that when you’re that close, enemies spend a lot of their turns trying to back off, which you can allow or not. If you’re successful in disallowing it, the enemy has wasted the turn; if he manages to back off, you can just advance your next round. These advantages helped make up for how lousy a dagger and robe are as melee weapons.

After I strike a decisive blow, the thief tries to back off.

Still, combat was pretty hard, so after I’d won a few battles, I went into the town to check out some of the other options. Fully healing takes only a single gold piece at the Temple of Eros, which is nice. But equally beneficial are temporary boosts to each attribute that the temple offers for 20 gold pieces. If you load up with a couple of these (strength, dexterity, or vitality) before heading out, they greatly improve your chances in combat. You can get similar boosts from potions at the alchemist’s, only these you can carry with you and use in the field at the appropriate times. Finally, when you earn a few hundred experience points, you can spend them at the guild for permanent attribute increases. As you buy these, the game re-calculates the derived statistics. All told, it’s a tight, satisfying combination of character development and economy.

Even better, you can pay experience points to change classes. If you decide you want some magic in your life, that’s only 100 or 200 experience points away.

In 7 more experience points, I can increase my dexterity or change to a sorcerer or warrior class.

I spent a couple hours fighting, building my fortune, and buying attribute increases as I tried to count the number of tiles in the land. Once I was loaded up on buffs, I headed off on the first quest lead, which I got from the inn. When I first checked into the inn, I saw three options with escalating values, and I assumed they were different quality rooms. Later, thinking I was buying a room for the night, I chose the first option. It turns out that the three options are subjects about which you’re bribing the bartender. For the subject “Ered-Morglin,” I learned:

It is a cyclops who directs the mines of Ered-Morglin. His talents as a blacksmith allowed him to make powerful relationships. However, the wise men of Bar-Tolainor suspect him of having allied with Beltrik. They promise their eternal gratitude to whoever brings them the head of the one-eyed monster.

I explored around until I found the dungeon of Ered-Morglin. Dungeons are top-down in this game, not first-person. Otherwise, they’re like exploring cities in the early Ultimas. Some enemies appear out of nowhere, just like in the wilderness, but others are in fixed locations. Secret doors are clued with little breaks in the walls, just as in Ultima IV.

Note the secret door in the wall to my left.

If there’s any way so far in which Muryaden lives up to its backstory and intent, I suppose it’s in the room descriptions that you receive while exploring the dungeon, although none of them are as bawdy as the backstory.

You see a convergent layer of manticore excrement and blood.

The remains of an orgy: the bowels of elves marinated in the blood of gnomes.

You see a statue of Grumsh impaling an elf on a lance!

The combats in the dungeon wore down my vitality to the point that I couldn’t really take any damage or I’d have to reload, but I stubbornly kept at it until I found the cyclops and managed to kill him and take his head. I also found a key beyond him that must be important somewhere. There were only two treasure chests in the dungeon; both had a modest amount of gold.

I have slain the cyclops and can now take his head.

I triumphantly carried the cyclops head to the city of Bar-Tolainor. I visited the sage, who I don’t think gave me any reward at all unless you consider a new quest a reward:

My premature ejaculation is a sign! You are the chosen one. Your destiny is to fight the libidinous Beltrik whose secret I will reveal to you. In fact Mithgul did not perish when his complex exploded. He and the demon he had summoned suffered the full effect of the brunettes. Thus they have fornicated for centuries until the effect of the malefice dissipates. The demon then became familiar with Mithgul. The archmage is daring and perverted by his experience. Had lost much of his knowledge. He renamed himself Beltrik and dedicated himself to the forces of chaos. Here is a letter of introduction to the king. Valdrin will no doubt offer you a substantial reward.

Meanwhile, from the other two auberge options back in Bar-Calenlad, I learn:

In Térégroth resides the Matriarch and her supporters. All are fanatical worshipers of Vaprak and pay bloody tributes to him. The ritual sacrifices organized in honor of the Destroyer are also cannibal orgies, where sins of flesh and money are indiscriminately consumed. This citadel has never, until now, been threatened, thanks to its high walls and its mithril door. Yet each door has its own key; that of Térégroth could also open the Matriarch’s chastity belt.

The lair of Beltrik, the lustful wizard, remains unknown to this day. The sages, however, called it Coron Raugul and claimed it was protected by an invisibility spell. They also say that it is guarded by a nigh-invincible golem. This sentinel, however, has a weak point: its diarrhea, which it can only wipe with the sheets of a spellbook cursed three times. This book is the Pnakoticus Qhultis of Count Bren-lette, also called P. Q. The golem will gladly let pass anyone who offers him a roll of this precious paper. [The joke here is that P. Q. in French is the abbreviation for toilet paper.]

So few golems in ricaine RPGs are cursed with diarrhea, and I just want to say I think it’s what’s been missing.

Getting a clue on the final quest.

Unfortunately, I ran into a technical problem that’s going to prevent me from continuing with the game without starting over. While I was exploring Ered-Morglin, testing the walls for secret doors, I found an illusory wall that let me out of the dungeon, onto a random part of the map terrain. I figured that it was a secret “back door.” By walking one space back the way I’d come, I returned to the dungeon. I didn’t think anything of it, and I finished the dungeon. Because it was closer the cyclops than the main entry, I used the “back door” to get out. I was able to turn in the quest without any problem.

I soon realized that the “back door” wasn’t that at all but a game corruption. The game still thinks I’m in the dungeon, and if I wander on the map into any coordinates that the dungeon level covers, I suddenly find myself back in the dungeon. Since there are towns and dungeons, and I think even the castle in that coverage area, that’s no good. I need to be able to enter those areas on the main map without warping to the dungeon. Unfortunately, trying to exit from the dungeon the regular way just freezes the game. I thought maybe if I found a second dungeon and entered and exited, it would work, but those aren’t on the accessible part of the map.

As far as I can get.

Fortunately, I don’t need to win it myself because “Deckard’s” web page describes what happens: The player takes the letter of introduction from the sage to King Valdrin of Gondarnost, who steps out of his harem long enough to give the player a new quest. Valdrin’s daughter was kidnapped by Beltrik, used as a “toy” for a while, then given to the Matriarch of Térégroth. Valdrin wants her back so he can marry her to the troll king, Bortrog, to seal an alliance between the cities. Valdrin also suggests that Bortrog would reward the character for killing the Matriarch.

Defeating the Matriarch. Don’t ask me why the screen shots are in this color.

The key found in Ered-Morglin turns out to be the key to Térégroth and the Matriarch’s chastity belt. The player goes to Térégroth, kills the Matriarch, recovers the chastity belt as proof, and frees the princess. The game makes a point of noting that the princess’s cell smells of urine, because that was important. The princess appears in your inventory, and from then on you can “use” her like any object for things I’ll leave to your imagination.

You return the princess to Valdrin, who does marry her to Bortrog. Bortrog rewards you for the Matriarch’s belt. But he doesn’t think his new bride is sexy enough, so he wants Beltrik’s beauty stone. The scroll found in Térégroth turns out to be the key to finding the invisible city of Coron Raugul. It’s also the item necessary to give to the golem to let you pass.

The player confronts Beltrik.

In Coron Raugul, the player defeats Beltrik and his pet demon and finds the stone, which turns out to be called “Muryaden” for whatever reason. Bringing it back to the troll king results in a congratulatory screen in which the troll king gives you the stone (after he’s done using it). His mage attunes the stone so that it will serve like a permanent Potion of Healing. The player can continue killing monsters and building his statistics if he wants.

The winning screen.

It will surprise no one that the plot elements of Muryaden aren’t my favorite parts of the game. The authors’ complaints about a certain lack of grit in the typical RPG of the period are not wrong, but the solution would lie in the future, with more complex characters, more nuanced plots, an in general better writing, not in the toilet humor of a couple of teenagers. At the same time, though, there are plenty of elements of the game that I don’t mind. I like the low-key nature of the quests. I like that the main character is more of a mercenary than a hero, and that none of his employers are sparkling clean. I like that the developers kept it small and short, understanding that they didn’t have the mechanics for an epic game. And as I said above, character development and combat are pretty tight. It earns a 24 on my GIMLET, doing best in character development, combat, economy, and gameplay (3s). That’s not a horrible score for an independent Ultima clone.

Elrik and Deckard continued their partnership with Muryaden Livre 2 in 1991. I can only hope that the extra two years matured their storytelling while preserving their inventiveness. I’m not sure what happened to them after that. “Elrik” was a pseudonym for Eric Bertrand, and there is a programmer of that name with numerous credits on Ubisoft titles, but his ludography doesn’t pick up until 2006, or 17 years after Muryaden, and I’m not sure if it’s the same developer. “Deckard” seems to be a Jean-Marc Boutillon; from an interview he gave, I don’t get the impression that he worked on anything more than these two titles.

We are going to move on to Abandoned Places: A Time for Heroes after another Britannian episode.

source http://reposts.ciathyza.com/game-365-muryaden-1989/

#retro games #dos games #retro #crpg #adventure #amiga #oldcomputers #8bit #16bit #blog #repost

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cfkramble · 7 years

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WSJ new manga

So Shonen Jump retired some classic manga like Naruto and Bleach and now they are getting a bunch of new ones. So I want to talk about those. From the new ones, I have only read 4, probably the ones that will stay. These are, ranked from best to worst (personally):

1. RobotxLaserbeam

A guy who has the character of a robot is/seems incredibly good at golf. (only 4 chapters so not too much other info)

2. Hungry Marie

The ghost of Queen Marie-Antoinette from the 1700s gets into the body of a delinquent. The twist: when she is the one having control, its his body and when he’s having control it’s hers. So it’s a body swapping story, but Marie only takes control when she is hungry. It’s a comedy with lots of shonen fighting action.

3. Dr. Stone

One day every human on earth petrifies and 3700 years later 2 guys break free from the spell and have to restart humanity from scratch, as if it were the STONE age.

4. We Never Learn

A poor smart guy has to tutor 2 girls or else he loses his scholarship. Both girls are the worst at the other girls’ specialty, but they can’t help each other since they are naturals. Eventually a 3d girls gets introduced who doesn’t have time to learn since she has to do swim training all the time. (Hint: he’s building a harem)

Ranking

So I should explain this a little bit, RxL I like a lot more than the others. Even thought it has the least amount of chapters it’s characters and story have gripped me much more than the other ones. Hungry Marie and Dr. Stone are really close, I only chose Hungry Marie was better since Dr. Stone has some weird plot holes i’ll go deeper in later.

Then the last one, We Never Learn, this one I basically dropped, I am not really into romance stuff but this is just harems and sexualized school girls. It has a cool twist where the main character actually gives good tips on how to study, but these come up rarely. All of these new manga have pretty good art, but WNL just has the most typical anime style, which doesn’t help it with standing out.

RobotxLaserbeam

This would be the best sports manga I have ever read, if it wasn’t copying so much from Kuroko no Basuke. This manga is made by the same mangaka and it really shows. Again we have a socially awkward protagonist (this time even worse) who seems naturally good at a sport from the start of the story. Most of the training done has only been implied.

Hungry Marie

So Hungry Marie, it was made by the same guy who did Beelzebub, which is painfully clear. Everything about this scream Beelzebub, which is a bit unfortunate since it makes less sense now. In Beelzebub you had 2 plots: The main char has to raise a demon baby + he has to beat up other delinquents. These actually combined together well since the baby assisted him with beating up and had chosen him as his tutor, because he was such a good fighter. Hungry Marie.... doesnt have this (yet?). So in Hungry Marie you have the plot I described, but the main char also happens to be good at fighting, which seems like it was shoehorned in just to have some fighting. This is for now my biggest gripe with the series, other than that it still needs to develop its plot.

Dr. Stone

Plotholes!!!! Okay, so here it comes

Same with Hungry Marie, all of these could possible be fixed in the future, but for now just seem like blatant mistakes the author won’t fix. This is mostly the case because not even the characters in the story question this stuff.

So small spoilers for this one. But at the start of the petrification process we first see birds turning to stone. Even after the main chars get free, they test unpetrification elixirs on stone birds. So it seems like all living things are petrified right? wrong, plants didn’t get petrified. Oh and also later we see them being attacked by lions, which the characters don’t even think about. So this seems pretty random right? All humans are petrified ...and birds? Most of this manga has actually been pretty smart, almost Death Note levels, but this seems for now like a big oversight.

Second one, so when someone petrifies it first implied that they died if they lost conciousness.All the people we hear while getting petrified are saying stuff like “I can’t die yet”. So how our main character survives: he just keeps focusing on not losing conciousness and eventually he comes free. Coincidentally this happens around the same time as with the other guy. This “coincidence” gets mentioned by both of them, so this will probably be explained later. However, once they find an unpetrification elixir and start using it on people, those not only become flesh again, they also live again. This contradicts these statements of dying. This could be explained if in the first chapter they had just had people say something like “I feel like im losing conciousness’ or “why am I so sleepy?” which would have explained it.

What these plotholes mainly concern me about is that it seems like Dr. Stone is being written chapter by chapter at a rushed pace. The lions we see are used to bring the protagonists in a state of danger where they will have to use their unpetrification elixir on someone they would rather not have alive. This is a very cool way of introducing a villain, by letting him protect the protagonists at first. However, this should not have required them to make such a huge plot hole.

Art

So this is just my opinion, but I think none of these manga have outstanding art, I think the main word here is “solid. I have heard some people say they think the art in Dr. Stone is amazing, I think it looks uncanny, in a place between realistic and cartoony. RobotxLaserbeam just has “solid” art, and it conveys everything very well. Hungry Marie has pretty shonen art, meaning it does the job, but doesn’t give me any thought of “wow this is amazing”.

Conclusion

The 2 manga I didnt discuss will likely be dropped, from the forum I read ( crunchyroll) they were unanimoulsy disliked and one even seemed objectively bad. I mostly didn’t discuss them since it would be a waste of time and text. These 4 I discussed here will probably all go along, with We Will Never Learn maybe dropping in the future. RxL I would consider the longest running, having such a great plot and the mangaka has proven himself already with Kuroko no Basuke, another very solid sports manga.

#manga #shonen jump

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