Writing Patterns (Tag Game)
Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!
Thanks for the tag, @tragediegh! I only have 7 works, but thought this would still be fun to check out. It seems I either write really short first sentences or they're about winter, haha.
I don't know who to tag. @whatevsbla @aerialsquid or anyone else who would enjoy it!
Violence raged aboard the Paragon.
It was a warm spring morning.
My brother is gone.
Reader, call me Fitz.
Winter was only just fading into spring and the morning was so cold, Peladine was sure it would kill her.
“He’s late, and I’m cold. I wish we could wait inside.”
Withywoods could be a difficult and lonely place for a tiny, unusual child, and in my seventh year I found Winterfest was no exception.
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You know I actually never realized this before-- so you remember how tri. retconned Original Chosen fighting and defeating Apocalymon into them fighting the Dark Masters instead? (To be fair it is possible they could've ALSO fought Apocalymon afterwards but that isn't the Epic Final Showdown tri. decided to depict so it's borderline a retcon)
If the Original 5 Chosen fought and defeated the Dark Masters once in the distant past, doesn't that mean that
A) They survived and hid for just a few thousand years until they came back for a Round 2 at conquering the world
B) They died, were reborn, and THEN went for the Round 2
You know I've just DYING with curiosity, desperately wanting to know if any of the villians in Adventure would ever be reborn after Adventure, right. Because according to the lore they should, right (unless their data was like somehow absorbed by Apocalymon and destroyed along with him (though that would still leave Piemon as an exception (and Vamdemon but we all know what happened to him) and the sole survivor))
And what tri. has essentially done is confirm that most of them should, in fact, be reborn sooner or later
But that just raises the question of if Apocalymon was lowkey driving the Dark Masters nuts (as suggested by the novels), and if tri. was kind of about destroying the last remnants of Apocalymon's data (within Meicoomon), if they were reborn this time would they be free of Apocalymon's influence
If so, would their third (?) lives then turn out different? Would they still try to take over the world all over again for funsies (this time just without Apocalymon giving them power etc), or were they just the same as Ken was in Zero Two? I mean Apocalymon was supposed to be a spawn of Milleniummon and Ken was infected with Mille's malice directly, so while it may have been a bit filtered it was still the same source of malice and corruption, right
And like regardless of how their next lives would turn out, shouldn't the kids (OR AT THE VERY FUCKING LEAST GENNAI) like realize that this is going to happen eventually and like. Go and see if they can find them (either as their pre-Ultimate forms or even when they're still in their Eggs) and try to figure out what to do BEFORE shit hits the fan
I JUST
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WIP ask, AU Gary as United manager please and thank you for your service :D <3 <3 <3
(WIP game)
YESSS okay so in this AU gary didn't get fired at Valencia like he doesn't do AMAZING there but he doesn't flop quite as hard as he actually did.
Here's the first section of the fic where it's sorta setting things up:
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Eleven hadn’t known people had so much blood in them. She was used to bleeding, of course, but usually just from the nose, when she did things for Papa. Sometimes she bit through her lip, and once or twice her tongue, so she knew that blood welled up when you were cut; and when she was younger, she’d sometimes beat her fists against the walls of the dark room until her skin broke, so she knew that blood seeped out sometimes if your skin was broken. But she didn’t know people had so much blood in them that it could spray against the wall and paint it red, and still have blood left over to form a bright, spreading pool on the floor around them when they fell.
She wasn’t used to death. She’d seen it before, even caused it before, but that didn’t make it any less awful to see life leave a body, to see a person become a limp, empty thing. The blood made it more awful still. And the tearing. She hadn’t known you could tear people. People weren’t paper. You shouldn’t be able to tear them apart.
But the monster clawed deep gouges in the scientists and orderlies, and they turned red where its claws dug in. The monster bit into them with its huge, white fangs, and it pulled pieces out of them, and its black face turned red. The monster dropped their lifeless bodies to the floor full of holes, or missing pieces—an arm, a hand, so much of the neck that the head flopped to one side and its own weight nearly pulled it free—and everything was red.
It happened so fast they barely had time to scream. But they did scream, awful shocked screams that cut off abruptly or trailed off into whimpers or gurgles. They screamed, and they died, and the monster moved through them in a single graceful sweep of violence. Blood sprayed on the walls, and it sprayed equally on the immense, slightly see-through trees that stood throughout the room, both there and not there. The blood seemed to make them more solid. More real.
Eleven stood rooted to the spot. Her every muscle was rigid, locked in place. The smell of blood was overwhelming. The screams did nothing to drown out the squelching, ripping sounds of flesh, punctuated by sharp snaps of bone.
The monster turned. The monster looked at her. Its mouth fell open, and its red, red tongue lolled out between the bloody teeth.
Eleven knew, somehow, that it was grinning at her.
It turned away and bounded through an open door.
Something too frightened to be relief made Eleven stagger. One foot landed in something hot and wet. She looked down and saw red, rolling gently toward her along the floor.
Eleven forced one leg to move, and then the other. She backed away from the open door, and from the spreading pool of blood. She turned to the trees, which had always been her friends, and willed them to be more real.
She pulled them to her, or pulled herself to them, until she could barely see the blood-spattered walls. Then she ran.
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