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furymint · 5 months

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2023 Creator Reflection

ffxiv.

1. dance me to the end of love

this one was fun! i always like merging a character's outfit with the bg so i liked doing that again. picking the colors for elliots outfit was also enjoyable. ive wanted to make smth w that cover for a while

2. shame was still the tyrant of his life

i only wrote two nol and eli things this year and neither of them are finished. the first was a continuation of a scene where nol kisses elliot against the blue stained glass in his room--i once posted it but then i deleted it bc it made me feel woozy for its allusions to sex. i wanted to rebuild it and take a shot at it now that im comfortable writing n reading sex, but i never got very far. theres actually lots of nice parts! i just like nols dumb angsting the best!

3. valentine

i really wanted to focus on nol's eye here, but also not make it too obvious lol. i used a ps filter like a schmuck but i wanted it to be darker without making it even more difficult to see, so i took away their bodies and limited the colors to make it what it is.

4. amateur cracksmen

the second nol n eli wip, which doesnt have many interesting lines rn, was a raffles-inspired story where eli drags nol as his valet to a rival artist's house and tries to steal back the brooch that he bought from an underground dealer feat. much babbling abt the state of societal responsibility that war is supposed to bring

ffxvi.

1. herz an herz dir

i wrote some reflections about this one already here. i honestly was very (distressed voice) cant believe im writing pure fanfic for the first time in over ten years and lacked a lot of direction when i started bc uhhhhh terence has 8 and a half mins of screen time. i tried to convince myself that it's not much different than me stealing brucemont for my own evil devices, but the unique perspective of seeing quite so much fan content def influenced my interpretation. i wanted their relationship to be much more imbalanced from the get-go initially--dion using his power unintentionally and terence barely passing a thought abt it until later bc he's just so accustomed to obeying--but i ended up giving terence a lot more sway & ammunition in their argument. the breakfast bed thing is also smth im rly fond of.

2. mund an mund

there's also additional meta for this one here. i made a silly doodle abt it also. dion kept picking fights here! it honestly turned out how i expected. when i first started this fic, i was gonna have dion start out right in oriflamme and meet ter and kihel there, but i booted them to northreach so i could have this stretch of conflict. i think it's like. Bad Pacing. technically. if i still believe the conflict introduced in the next chapter is the core one, that is. which i sorrrrta do. but i dont care bc i rly like the visual of kihel laying in dion's lap and getting to put a gun on the wall w ahmed.

3. eines atems

its been two months since the last chapter and this chapter is humiliatingly not written. i have all my scrambled notes and scenes that i jotted down in between the first two chapters, so i have a full direction, but it's been really difficult to write lately. ive been devoting all my time to trying to recoup my mental health and work on my teredio secret santa. ill start next year with this wip as a priority, so for now i only have the photoshop edit for it. kihel is holding terence's hand--it's his pov turn.

overall i didnt like this year very much. i didn't read, create, research or do a lot even though i tried to. i became really disconnected from all of my friends bc im too tired to stay for rp or hold online conversations. at this point, i dont play ffxiv at all except the few times i managed to rp a little. i moved into nanny's house and have my own space, but don't have the presence of mind to do anything about my pc, books, and so on, although i did make a lot of progress rewrapping my books w fresh wraps and some other things. my plans for next year are to reach out to a couple of my friends, build my pc, relearn + rebuild + relaunch my queer lit blog on open source code, survive school, and rediscover the productivity ive lost the past few years.

teredio has helped me a LOT to find community, inspiration, and art in my loneliest year yet. im very proud of my fic and grateful every day to the ppl who have reached out to me about liking it. even if im sorry about my productivity rate in comparison to how many extraordinary writers there are in the ship's fandom, i know i have to be easy on myself to relearn how to write, create a writing schedule that works for me, and stop punishing myself when i cant get the words out.

past reflections: 2017 | 2018 | 2019 | 2020 | 2021 | 2022

#ngl writing this out made me feel like #i reopened a lot of grief about my ability to work and create #and i need to walk away from it before i cry even more lol #thank u to my fc for still being the place #i love to visit when i wake up #even though all of us a struggling a lot #with life and ingame motivation #brianna babbles

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thenewlarislynn · 4 years

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Coffee Stained Confusion Ch 19

~~~

As it turns out, burning down a building was a lot more work than it seemed. Natasha collected all their data before you would set blaze to a room. When the smoke alarms went off most of the remaining HYDRA agents fled outside where SHIELD operatives were waiting for them. Bucky was still weak from his close call with the Winter Soldier, so Sam escorted both him and Alicia to the Quinjet. As much as you hated to leave Bucky’s side, you didn’t have much of a choice. The facility had to be destroyed.

When you entered the main holding room, Nat began downloading the data from the computer. Picturing a raging fire in your mind, you allowed flames to begin licking at the corners of the room. Smoke began to accumulate but it wasn’t anything out of your control. Suddenly, a loud bang came from the other side of the room, causing your heart rate to rise. You assumed all the HYDRA thugs had retreated. As you rushed over to investigate, weaving your way through the abandoned cell block, the flames began to grow against your will. They rose, creating a towering inferno of heat and smoke. It became so thick that you lost all sight of your surroundings. It was in that moment when you felt the cold barrel of a gun pressed against your back.

Risking a glance behind you, you saw a tall, lanky man holding a revolver to the small of your back. “You know,” he whispered, his voice deep and gravelly, “in all my time here, the Winter Soldier only ever brought HYDRA down. However it seemed I was the only one to be to see that. When I learned he was recaptured I decided to use this opportunity to dispose of him, once and for all. However, I think I’ve found something better to take from him, something so much more precious than his life. Yours.”

You reached back, latching onto his arm and twisting it, sending a shock of pain through his body. But you weren’t fast enough and he was able to pull the trigger before the searing heat from your hand forced him to drop the gun. A sharp pain went through your ribcage, causing you to stumble back in pain. As you tried to make your escape, an idea came to mind. Cautiously, you pressed down on the wound, hoping the heat from your hand would effectively cauterize it. It seemed to work, although the pain was still there. Taking a deep breath, you sent a blast of fire towards the area where the man fell. Immediately after you tried to turn and run, clutching your side as you tried to find your way out. You instantly became turned around, however, because the smoke was too thick to see through, and the maze of cells seemed to go on forever.

From the smoke in front of you, a hand snaked out and grabbed you by the ankle, pulling you down onto the dirt floor. You landed directly on the bullet wound, reopening it and causing a pool of blood to turn the floor to a red mud beneath you. A vein was definitely punctured, and you knew you would be running out of time if you didn’t move quickly. Reaching over, you placed a searing hand on his face “You just don’t know when to give up, do you?”

“I didn’t come so far to fail. If I go down, so do you,” he chuckled darkly, “Barnes deserves the hand Fate has dealt him.”

“You never considered the hand Fate dealt you,” a voice came from somewhere to your left. From the smoke, Natasha emerged, gun pointed at the man.

“I’ve accepted mine,” he replied, dark eyes meeting yours, “but have you accepted yours? You and I both know that bullet hit a vein, so you’ll be dead soon enough. But I do have a message for you to deliver. When you get out of here and return to your Bucky, having almost completely bleed out, I want you to tell him who killed you. The true fist of HYDRA.” A bang echoed against the metallic walls of the room. The man lay in a pool of blood, Natasha standing over him with a smoking gun.

She walked over to you. “Can you stand,” she asked, the smallest hint of panic seeping through her calm exterior. “I think so,” you nodded, “but we have to hurry. I already tried to cauterize the wound but it didn’t take. He was right, it’s serious.” Nat helped you up, “Bruce is on the ship, he might be able to sew it shut until we get back to the tower. But you need to quell the flames enough so we can get out of here safely.” Reaching out to the flames drained you of a lot of energy, making you feel even weaker than before, but you managed to subdue them enough for the smoke to partially clear.

You weakly stood, legs threatening to give out beneath you. In your condition, the building seemed even bigger than it had originally. To keep you awake Nat was talking to you, explaining how Alicia and the professor were both sent ahead in a separate jet, so you luckily wouldn’t have to deal with either of them on your way back to the tower. After what felt like ages, but was most likely only a few minutes, you made it out to the Quinjet. For the second time that day, dots clouded your vision as blood seeped from a bullet wound. As soon as you made it to the jet you collapsed onto the deck, Bucky rushing to your side.

Seeing how deep the wound was caused his heart to sink. Worry laced through his voice as he picked you up and gently placed you on a gurney, “Doll, what happened, who did this to you?” When you didn’t respond he glanced at Natasha who just shook her head sadly.

“He said he was the ‘real fist of HYDRA’,” you replied, your voice only a whisper. “Do you know who that is?”

Bucky felt his heart stop, a memory from his days as the Winter Soldier resurfacing. “HYDRA had plans for a whole army of supersoldiers. He was one of the agents who volunteered to take the serum, but when he went out on a mission he disobeyed direct commands, decimated an entire city block. I was sent to stop him. Instead of allowing him to take his place as a soldier, he was forced to stay at the facility, only going out when critical.” You barely registered the words, falling into a coughing fit. When you took your hand away it was slick with blood. Bucky stayed by your side, holding your hand, trying to mask his fear. Soon after the jet took off, you drifted into an uneasy unconsciousness.

Bruce pulled Nat aside, speaking in a hushed tone, “The bullet didn’t hit a vein, but it was very close. If she loses more blood, she might not survive. She’ll need an emergency blood transfusion as soon as we touch down, and even then the situation will be critical. I would inform Bucky, but after what Sam told me about the Winter Soldier incident,” he shook his head, “I don’t think he’s in the right headspace to receive that type of news right now.”

Natasha nodded in agreement, “The best thing to do, I think, is wait until the transfusion is complete and they’re both a bit more stable. I’ll phone ahead to Steve, let him know the situation.”

After what felt like ages, the Quinjet finally landed, medics ready at the sight to take you to the infirmary. Bucky tried to stay as close as possible without getting in their way.

“We don’t know if it will work,” he overheard one of the medics say, “her condition is critical. The only thing we can do once it’s done is hope.” Bucky felt his heart twist at the words. Sensing someone walk up to him he glanced over.

“She’ll survive this,” Sam said, “she’s a fighter.”

Bucky glanced down, unsure of whether he should confide in Sam. “If she survives this it’ll be a miracle. The doctors said she’s in critical condition. See, this is why I told you I don’t do relationships. The man who shot her knew she was important to me, knew he could use her death to cause me grief, and it’s working. It’s my fault she’s on death’s door, Sam. I can’t let her get hurt because of me again. And I almost became him again, I could have-”

Sam interrupted him,“Hey man, look at me. You did everything you could to protect her in there. Maria told me you tried to bargain for her freedom, using your own life as leverage. But she wasn’t in harm’s way because of you.” Bucky shot him a look and he continued, “Alright, let me rephrase that. Yes, in this instance she was put in danger because of her connection with you, but she knew what she was signing up for when she decided to be an Avenger. No matter what, with the ability she has, she’s going to be in harm’s way. So even if you try to push her away for her ‘protection’, it won’t change anything. The only thing it will do is hurt you both.”

Bucky looked over at the operating room where they were wrapping up the blood transfusion. “Thank you, Sam. I hate to say it, but I think you’re right.”

“Of course I am,” he smiled. “I think they’ll let you in the room now that they finished the procedure.”

As Bucky approached the room, a doctor pulled him aside. “She’s recovering slowly, but she still hasn’t woken up. The trauma wasn’t just from the one bullet wound, but two, along with the cuts she received. If she starts coughing again let us know.” Bucky nodded before rushing into your room. He grabbed a chair and pulled it next to your bed.

“Hey doll,” he paused, remembering all the pain you’ve been through the past few days, “I know you probably can’t hear me right now, but I know you’ll get through this. You’ve endured so much already. I know it might be hard, but I need you to stay with me. I’m not letting you out of your promise that easy,” he chuckled, but his voice was thick with unshed tears.

For the next two days he stayed by your bedside, only leaving the few times the attending nurses forced him out. On the third day, he was talking on the phone with Steve when your eyelids finally fluttered open.

“No, Steve, I’m staying with her,” he argued, “I don’t need-”

“Bucky?” you whispered, your voice sore from not being used.

His head shot up, and the phone clattered to the floor. “Doll, you’re awake, oh thank God. You’ve had us all worried, you know.”

“How long was I out?” Taking in your surroundings, you could tell you were in the tower, safe from HYDRA.

“Three days,” Bucky whispered, holding your hand. Your mind almost completely short-circuited when you heard that, but you wanted to stay strong for Bucky. You could tell he hadn’t been sleeping and looked over at him questioningly.

“What happened to Alicia and the professor? Are they interrogating the other HYDRA agents?”

“They were taken to a maximum security prison, don’t worry. You’re safe here. As for the interrogations, I don’t know. I’ve been here the whole time. I couldn’t leave you, not when,” he couldn’t bring himself to finish his sentence.

“When what,” you asked gently.

“The doctors were worried you wouldn’t make it,” he whispered. “God, doll, I was worried too. After all that happened, all we made it through, I couldn’t lose you.”

You reached up and brushed a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. “Well, I did promise you I wouldn’t leave you, didn’t I?”

~~~

Taglist:

@sydneyisnotawriter

@dark-night-sky-99

I actually can’t believe that the next chapter is the last, like how? Like always, likes and reblogs are appreciated! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! Love you all <3

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fanfoolishness · 6 years

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no words for heaven or for earth (2/?)

Part 1: Where’s Hawke? is here.

Part 2: because you aren’t here

Footfalls on stone, the taste of blood in her mouth, a voice that she felt more than heard. She scarcely knew what was happening, but the Nightmare had been weakened by the Divine spirit that had helped them, enough for her daggers and her hope to carry her through. The Nightmare`s last cries of death reverberated, shaking the world around her. She ignored it. Ran. Upside down, upside down, running stumbling falling, how her lungs seared!

Was that a scream? It was her scream. She whirled, searched desperately for the green, the gate, the escape, she could still catch them, she could still find them, find him.

But her feet rang empty on the stone, and there was nothing, nothing beyond herself and the Fade-stone and the pale green sky. No voices. No allies. No Varric. Only a crushing, endless emptiness.

Min Hawke sank to her knees and wept.

Varric wondered, dully, if tears would help anything. He’d never gone in much for them in his books. His protagonists rarely seemed to need them. They were self-sufficient sorts, even in the romances, and were more likely to kick someone’s ass than reach for a handkerchief.

But this -- this wound, this tear in the heart of him -- fuck. He’d cry shamelessly if he thought it might help.

He let Curly lead him away down the steps, away from Namira Lavellan, away from the fortress, away from the horror. He didn’t really know what he was doing. One foot in front of the other felt foreign and wrong.

He could see that Cullen had no idea what to do, either. The man tried. Varric gave him that.

“Varric, I’m -- I’m so sorry.” He stumbled over the words. Varric barely heard him. His head throbbed, a pounding ache at the front of his eyes. Was he sick? Maybe he was sick. Maybe he’d imagined this whole thing. But the smell of the battle was still heavy in the air, and the crickets were loud in the dark.

“But where is she?” said Varric. It was the sixth time he’d asked. Why was he asking again? He knew the answer, but how could the answer be real? If it was, then that meant….

“Nami-- the Inquisitor is trying to find her, Varric. If there’s any chance she can open that rift again, perhaps the demon you faced will be gone, and maybe…” Cullen’s voice faded.

Varric shook his head irritably. It felt as if he was moving through oil, or that he’d been packed in cotton. Every movement was difficult, clumsy. The words were a great effort. “And if she can’t?”

“Varric, I don’t know,” he admitted, red-eyed with exhaustion. “Maker knows I don’t want to think of the possibility, but… if she can’t open that rift again, then I’m afraid Hawke is lost.”

Varric nodded. Forced a tight smile on his face. He raised his hands, fingers spread, and gestured jerkily at the other man.

“Fuck you,” said Varric calmly. “And fuck your Inquisition.” He left Cullen behind him and stumbled out into the sands, winding around the back of the ruined fortress, his boots sliding with every step. Tumbled stone had fallen here and there, centuries of effort toppled with their trebuchets and war machines. He leaned against a rough boulder, gazing up at the walls of the fortress, at the green sparks visible just above the spires. Namira was trying to reopen the rift.

The sparks never coalesced. The rift never opened. The night sky stretched above him, endless and unbroken save for stars.

He cried, then. But he’d been right.

It didn’t help at all.

Hawke walked, daggers held loosely in her hands. Was walking the right word for what she was doing? Sometimes it was clambering over boulders in her path. Other times it was steeling herself and leaping from floating rock to floating rock. Sometimes it was tramping through water that rained upward from the ground away into the air. What else was there to do, after all?

She was tired. She’d cried a long time after the last hint of the rift had closed. A long time. There was no way to know how long; time itself already seemed a foreign thing.

Her side ached with each step, a nagging rawness. She’d been half-pierced by one of the Nightmare’s claws. The blood had congealed between her skin and her armor, sticky and slippery as she walked, and she wished she still had some of Anders’ old healing kits. They had worked wonders for her before. For others, too. She remembered Varric bleeding out in a Lowtown alley in the night, and she shivered.

She gritted her teeth and looked out over the green and boiling sky.

The Black City shone foully in the distance, just as Dad and Bethany had always described it. She squinted at it, daring its edges to sharpen, daring it to be the impossibility her mind told her it was. The spires remained as blurred and vague as ever.

“Just as well,” she muttered. “No need to go there.”

“Clever, not to go to the Black City. Don’t you remember the Chant? It’s how the hubris of man created the darkspawn,” said Bethany brightly at her side.

“Shit!” Hawke yelped, leaping backwards. She dislodged a chunk of rock, which floated upward over her head and into the sky. Bethany stood beside her, tall and healthy and happy, looking like she was about to go out and work the fields of their home in Lothering. When was the last time Hawke had seen her so happy? Before Dad died, wasn’t it?

“Language,” said Bethany, grinning. “What would Mum say?”

“Mum would say don’t talk to creepy things in the Fade,” said Hawke stubbornly. “You’re the mage, anyway, you ought to know that even more than I do.”

“It’s all right to feel a little jealousy, Min. You can’t help your feelings. But what I do expect you to help is your actions. You’ve been teasing Bethany too much lately,” said Dad. He stood next to Bethany, giving her a fond grin. “I keep trying to tell you that you are no less gifted for not having magic like your sister --”

“And I keep trying to tell you that daggers mean very little when faced with a lightning storm or a fireball,” said Min drily, though her heart pounded frantically at the sight of Dad, looking hale and strong again. Her eyes pricked with tears. He was a tall man, lean and brown, his dark hair cropped close like his beard. And his eyes -- they were her eyes, incongruously pale blue set in a worn but handsome face. Maker, she had missed him so these years! But it wasn’t him. It couldn’t be. Divine Justinia had not been herself either, right?

Hawke shook her head, trying to remember how to breathe past the gnawing ache in her belly. She couldn’t look at him. The thing that was pretending to be him.

“This was how it was in Kirkwall, too; I’ve been in the Fade before,” she bit out. “You lot are going to offer me a happy reunion with the family, or my own magical abilities, or some other thing I want. Then you’re going to be one delighted demon and run off with my soul. Well, I don’t want to play.”

“But magic could help you here,” said Bethany earnestly. “You might be able to open a rift on your own to escape. Don’t you want to return home? We could help you get back. To Kirkwall. To Varric.” She stepped forward, her eyes wide, sympathetic. “I saw him. He’s -- he’s devastated, Min. He’s scared to death, he can’t bear to lose you, not like this.”

“I haven’t even had a chance to tell you about the two of us!” Hawke exploded, but her gut roiled, imagining Varric thinking she was -- No. No. No.

Hawke held onto what she knew was real. “You couldn’t even know yet. Everything’s been so desperately busy and I didn’t know how to say it in a letter and -- you don’t know any of that, do you, since you aren’t really Bethany.” She took a deep breath, frightened at how it had only taken a moment for her mind to half-forget that truth.

She bit her lip, weighing the daggers in her hands. “I do remember some things Dad taught us. All of us.” She sheathed her daggers, staring down the false Dad and Bethany. It was difficult, but she could start to see around the edges now; there was a light shining through them, glimmering in their eyes. As she’d insisted, they weren’t human. The realization was a relief, but a painful one. “If you’re in the Fade, a demon becomes what you expect it to be. And if you’re strong enough… you can simply expect it not to be. I don’t want to fight you. So I won’t. Because you aren’t here.”

And they acquiesced to her -- they had no choice -- but when they were gone and she was alone on the rocks, looking out to the distant sea, she wondered if she could have the strength to make them leave again.

And again.

Until she starved, or until she let them win.

Varric woke up with a start. He didn’t know what was wrong with him.

Or, well, that wasn’t exactly true. There was an ache so dark and deep that he couldn’t even look at it except out of the corner of his eye. It burned with every breath. He knew about that, even when denial made him stupid; he knew words like grief and loss and sorrow, even when they seemed far too small to contain the pain.

He’d stumbled through the sands with the others, wending their way to Griffon Wing Keep. He’d kept a wide berth from everyone else. He didn’t want their apologies, their excuses, their pity. Namira tried to talk to him twice, but he’d waved her away. Cullen, bullheaded, had marched next to him for a time, but they remained in silence. Cole had tried to sidle up beside him, and Varric had flat-out turned and strode off in the other direction.

He needed to be alone. This shit still didn’t feel real, and their hovering wouldn’t make it any realer. He had to sort it out himself.

But there was something else, too, something beyond the disorientation and gut-punches of the grief. It took him longer than he should to name it. Then again, it wasn’t something he’d had the chance to practice before.

Solas barely reacted when Varric woke him in the middle of the night in the Keep, a lamp held at his side. The flames spooled and coiled in the little lamp like a living thing. The elf was elsewhere one minute and back in the world the next, his eyes glittering in the dim light.

“Varric,” said Solas. “What is it?”

Varric shook his head, letting out a weary sigh. “It’s just me.” He looked blearily down at his boots. “I gotta talk to you.”

“I will do my best to aid you.” Even hours before dawn and roused from sleep, the elf was formal beyond reason. It figured.

“Well, that’s good,” said Varric. “Because I think I’m having dreams.”

#hawke x varric #varric x hawke #dragon age: inquisition #varric tethras #hawke #min hawke #da:i #here lies the abyss #hawke in the fade

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