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overnighttosunflowers · 1 year

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HI I'M LATE TO THE WRITER ASK GAME! ❤️💥🎁🦈 (for my brand) 🧪🤩

HI NATALIE THANK YOU FOR THE ASK <3

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

What the hell, have a goofy excerpt from the journal fic:

List of ideas Prostrate self on spiky rock New rock??? Horse???? Sculpt horse out of rock Repair old rock?? Repair old rock with blood Sacrifice self → Delilah’s magic in soul = soul goes into old rock = repairs rock?? Find Delilah new magic = gives back rock?? Prostrate self on very very spiky rock on the ground in front of her so that she can step on me → forgiveness via pain as I deserve Give some other chance to take retribution?? Give her my hair?????

💥 What is one canon thing that you wish you could change?

I really wish we’d spent longer in Yios—it felt like Matt spent soooo long building up to it and then the Hells found all the information they needed in like two episodes and skedaddled. The pacing has been pretty frantic and while I’m enjoying all of it I’m also hopeful that the second half(?) of the campaign will have a little more breathing room. I was put a bit in mind of the way Campaign 2 felt right around Travelercon—whipping through the visit to the Blooming Grove for instance. Having something fixed on a calendar is tough.

🦈 Which character is the toughest to write?

God I absolutely cannot get the hang of FCG and it drives me insane. I’m almost tempted to write something set during this Wildemount arc where Imogen gets to yell at him or something just to practice his (impossible) voice and getting inside their head.

🧪 Do you research for your fics?

I am a terminal canonfucker so yes I dooooo. Lots and lots and lots of linkable transcripts, primarily, but when I was writing the journal fic I had like seven or eight tabs open at a time—a couple of transcripts, the two critrolestats campaign calendar pages, a CR wiki page about the calendar, a critrolestats tab listing all of Imogen’s dreams, and a couple of CR wiki episode pages.

🤩 What led to your interest in the fandom?

I got really into TAZ balance in I think 2018—I’d been hearing @thunderburning talk about it for quite a while and then someone I was friendly with at work recommended it as well and I figured what the heck. I started seeing some CR on my dash from following TAZ blogs and gradually became interested. The thing that finally pushed me over the edge was meeting someone at a work lunch who spoke really enthusiastically about it, and then immediately going on a vacation where I had a lot of downtime (car rides and also jet lag insomnia). I think I listened to maybe the first six or seven episodes of Campaign 2 on that trip? It was a bit of a slow burn and then somewhere around the disastrous hospital heist episode I really went all in.

🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share? I truly don’t have much right now so I am taking inspiration from you and using something I abandoned. I had fully forgotten about this one, it was set post-38. I’d written about a thousand words so I’m putting it under a read-more.

After dinner, after everything, they’re laying blankets out around the base of the sun tree. Laudna doesn’t really remember coming outside. She doesn’t really remember dinner. Snatches of it—Imogen beside her, hand on her arm, bracing her. It makes it feel more real. Imogen and the sun tree.

As they lay down, Laudna hovers a little, unsure of what to do, whether to—where to—it was her idea to sleep out here and they’re all looking to her and she doesn’t know where to, what to—

“Laudna?” Imogen says, and her voice is a touch to the hand, soft, firm, kind. “Come here, honey.” She’s found a spot in the curling roots, a trough between them. She sits and holds out a hand, and Laudna takes it and curls down beside her, lays against the rough, warm bark. She doesn’t quite realize she hasn’t been breathing until Imogen lays down beside her. Warmth in both directions. Everywhere. It’s been a long time since she was warm.

There’s a sound. The bumping of a wheel across ground. “Imogen, sorry, I wanted to check. Did you want me to—” Letters says. “In case tonight’s the night?”

Imogen shifts beside her. “Oh—sure, Letters. Yeah, thank you.”

Laudna turns to see what’s happening. Letters is laying out spell components—a feather, twine, a silver coin. She doesn’t recognize them. She wants to be conversational. She wants to ask, normally, what he is doing, and not because the presence unfamiliar magic makes her feel twitchy, like the time she’s missed is spinning out ahead of her, things changing in her absence, foreign and alone. She winds her fingers into Imogen’s, and just like that, Imogen squeezes back.

After a moment, she finds words. “What’s the feather for?”

“Shared Dream,” Letters says proudly. “Lets someone come into a dreamscape with you.”

Her eyes move to Imogen. Imogen, Imogen. The dream—and Otohan—(a flashing sword, echo of a Imogen giving in for her, a liability, a nuisance)—Imogen looks brave and hopeful and scared. “Into the dream?”

“We’ve been tryin’ it for a few days, while you were—gone. It hasn’t worked yet,” Imogen adds as Laudna’s heart falls, catching it. “But maybe tonight’s the night.” She forces a smile. Brave. Laudna wonders if there are updates her dream journal has missed.

“I was wonderin’, actually,” Letters says. “Should I cast it like normal? Or now that Laudna’s back, do the two of you want me to try to send her in?”

She can go into the dream? She can be there for Imogen? She can escape her own nightmares, her own head? “I can—I can come,” Laudna says.

“Oh, honey, no, you don’t have to do that,” Imogen says immediately, and something inside Laudna caves in like wet sand. “I don’t need—all I need is for you to be here with me, okay?” Laudna’s expression must show something because she reaches out and touches Laudna’s face. Laudna is grateful. “I’m so glad you’re here with me.”

“Me too,” Laudna says, and Imogen’s expression goes soft and intense and warm, and she wants to cling to it.

“All right then!” FCG says. “So I��m just gonna get it set up, then, with one end on me, okay?” Their magic sparks and then they hand Imogen the silver coin. She slips it into a pocket; the feather, twine knotted around it, goes back into FCG’s bag. Laudna watches it disappear inside the cloth, stays sitting as they roll away.

“Laud?” Imogen has laid down again, tucking herself back into the space between the two hugging roots. She’s got a blanket from the castle; it’s getting dirty. Laudna makes a mental note to clean it tomorrow. Prestidigitation. She can do things like this again. She can make things better. “Come to bed?”

“Of course,” Laudna says, and she lays back down amidst the brambles crawls under the corner of the blanket where Imogen has lifted it, crawls inside to where Imogen’s arms are waiting for her, and lets herself be folded within them. The tree holds her; Imogen holds her. Imogen kisses her hair softly and, surprisingly quickly, with a sense of safety and assurance that Laudna has rarely seen in her, her breathing falls into sleep, where Laudna cannot follow.

Laudna dreams.

The tree is cold. The tree is cold and she is cold and the barn is cold. She’s dressing for dinner and the clothes are paper against the wind and there’s a chill wind on the air as they bring fire towards her home, and she doesn’t finish making Pâté and she is alone and it’s cold, she’s freezing, and then she’s not alone for the whisper of a voice, Delilah, always Delilah, waking rope around her neck to Delilah, the whisper of—

Imogen.

Warmth.

Her face, through the branches; her voice, a rush of dream-memory, telling Laudna to fight. I want to, Laudna tries to say, you’re here and I want to, tell me how to fight and I can keep trying, I don’t know how anymore, but there’s nothing that comes out and she tries and tries again and her tongue is gone in her mouth and the fire picks up around her, how is the fire cold, and Pâté must be burning and her bird, the drawing, to take her away, she has a pocket full of feathers to build the bird and they’re carrying away on the ice wind,

“We’re here now,” Imogen says, and her hand is against the glass against Laudna’s and her eyes are warmth, and Laudna touches the glass and she feels Imogen’s hand in hers, they’re at dinner and there’s a sandstorm at the windows and Imogen’s hand is in hers and it’s steady and it squeezes when the lobster is served and her breathing stops and she looks to the end of the table and it’s Delilah, and Laudna looks at the lobster and it’s a noose, and she looks to Imogen in a panic and Imogen is there. She holds her hand and she’s there. Just stay close? Laudna says, and Imogen nods and leans towards her as though to kiss her, but there’s a barrier there, and she leans away. Don’t go too far, Laudna says, and Imogen says, I think that’s up to you, darlin’, and Laudna’s hands are Delilah’s and her face reflected in the glass is Delilah’s and the glass is a bubble and the dining room is a tree and Imogen is on the ground.

Don’t go too far, Laudna tries to say again, and Imogen’s face is terrified and she is farther away from LaudnaDelilah’s face, good, that’s safer for her, she shouldn’t be here, she shouldn’t, and Delilah’s voice speaks as Laudna’s mouth moves. Don’t go too far, don’t go too far, she says, don’t go—

and the tree closes around her

And Laudna wakes up.

(……anyway after that Laudna was going to beg her way into a dream with Imogen out of a need to feel useful, and in the dream she was going to be able to protect Imogen in some very Laudna way that I hadn’t quite worked out yet—something that gestured at just how false that “I haven’t been able to fight her for thirty years” was, that demonstrated all of the ways in which Laudna is and always has been so so strong. But then I started writing until the mosses take root in thunder instead and this one sort of fell by the wayside.)

#THANKS AGAIN :)#ask games #my fic #sharkodactyl

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