#i want to poke at your various components and ask them: why? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chierafied · 2 months

Text

2 - Surprise

Louder Than Words: Reprise

SessKag Fluff Week, Day 3: Valentine's

Prompt: Surprise 915 words. AO3. A continuation of sorts of my earlier fic Louder Than Words.

Sesshoumaru had no trouble with machines. Oh, they were frequently vexing and sometimes even he couldn’t figure out why something had decided to stop working as it should. Nevertheless, there was usually a logic to them.

And if all else failed, he could pry open the casing and poke around the different components and see how it all worked. Or have a look at the source code and hunt down where something had gone wrong.

But people, to him, remained a mystery.

Higurashi Kagome was a people person. There was no doubt about it. She was always friendly with everyone. She smiled often and always seemed to be ready and willing to chat for a bit with any and all of their coworkers.

In a stark contrast, Sesshoumaru was most comfortable when he was alone in his own office in the IT department. Though he had to leave the safety of his lair on occasion, often to fix misbehaving machinery or attend a boring meeting that could have as well been an email, he vastly preferred to troubleshoot and interact with people from a distance.

Higurashi Kagome couldn’t have been more different from him. And maybe, he wondered to himself as he stared at his computer screen, that was why he had gravitated to her from the start.

She’d been working with them for a year and half now. She worked in communications, which was probably the one department outside of IT that Sesshoumaru knew best. He’d befriended their graphics designer Miroku during the website revamp from a few years’ back.

Sesshoumaru had been silently smitten with Kagome since she first smiled at him in passing at the cafeteria queue. He’d overheard her chatting with that red-haired youngster from communications and from that single everyday conversation alone he could tell she was bubbly and kind and smart.

Unlike some people in their organisation, Kagome wasn’t hopeless with technology. She was responsible for all their social media, after all. And yet, for the past six weeks, she seemed to be running into tech trouble constantly, calling him at least twice a week. On seven different occasions, she’d talked him into grabbing lunch together.

She always chatted with him a bunch, all nice and friendly. Flashed him bright and frequent smiles. Touched him every now and then, though he was sure most of those little brushes were accidental. Still, it was driving him mad.

His crush had by now grown roots. And with every interaction with Kagome, a new branch would sprawl out. The feelings were getting out of hand and harder to contain with every passing day.

Glumly, Sesshoumaru picked up his coffee mug and pushed out of his chair. A booster hit of caffeine would perk him right back up.

There was a knock on his door. Higurashi Kagome peeked in, beaming at him.

“Hi! Do you have a moment?”

His heart stuttered in his chest and he had to clear his throat before he could reply. “Sure. Was just about to get coffee.” He lifted his mug in a sorry salute.

“Great!” Kagome’s eyes sparked and she walked into his office. “I really wanted to make sure I got these to you today.”

Sesshoumaru blinked, trying to clear both his vision and confusion. But as the sight he was seeing didn’t waver, perhaps he wasn’t imagining the cellophane-wrapped pouch that Kagome was holding out to him.

“What’s this?” he asked cautiously, even as a wild fluttering flock was let loose in his stomach.

“It’s chocolate, made by hand by yours truly! Happy Valentine’s Day, Sesshoumaru!”

“Thank you.” Sesshoumaru inclined his head, a little stiff. He accepted the gift and studied the assortment of chocolate truffles in various shapes and featuring different toppings. They looked delicious and really well made.

He shouldn’t get too worked up about the gesture. Sure, the obligatory chocolates women gave to their male co-workers weren’t typically this elaborate handmade kind, but Kagome seemed kind enough to go for the extra mile, even for the gift chocolates.

He couldn’t help wondering what her confession chocolate might look like, since these were already the nicest Valentine’s chocolates he’d ever got.

“I’m glad you thought of me,” he said, looking down at the chocolates. His cheeks were burning, and he hoped she hadn’t noticed that he was blushing.

The rustle of her skirt was his only warning. Then, her scent was filling his nostrils, and her hair was tickling his neck as she leaned in close. The kiss she planted on his cheek was too brief and utterly electrifying. Even as she pulled back, smiling bright, the warmth and softness of her lips against his skin lingered.

“I won’t take any more of your time, I know you must be busy,” she said, smoothing down her skirt. “But let me know what you think.”

She winked at him and left his office. Floored, flummoxed and flabbergasted, Sesshoumaru stood right where she had left him, still shivering and stupefied by her kiss.

It was only then that he noticed the card peeking out from under the wrapped chocolates.

He pried it open with trembling fingers. And as his gaze quickly drank in the handwritten words, his heart raced up his throat. Awe prickled in the tips of his toes, flooding his entire frame as it started to finally dawn on him: Sesshoumaru knew exactly what Kagome’s confession chocolate looked like.

He was currently cradling them, and the sweet emotions they represented, in his hand.

#sesskag #sesskag fan fiction #sesskag fanfiction #sesskag fic #sesskag fluff week #skfw24 #skfw24d3

12 notes · View notes

pi-cat000 · 3 years

Text

BNHA: Kakashi dimension hops crossover (5)

Summary: Kakashi gets dumbed into the My Hero Academia universe through random plot devise.

Characters: Kakashi Hatake

Fandoms: My Hero Academia and Naruto

WARNINGS: Mentions of violence/injury

START / RREV / NEXT

Ms Iroi always tries to engage him in conversation whenever she comes in, asking questions and chatting to herself in a fruitless attempt at helping him recover his 'lost' memories. Most of the time, Kakashi is indifferent to her presence and always has a magazine handy as an excuse not to talk.

Today, Iroi is in a particularly good mood, humming to herself, greeting him with an energetic, “How are you doing today!”

Kakashi grunts a noncommittal response which doesn’t do much to discourage the woman’s good mood as she runs through a check-up routine.

“You should try watching U.A’s sports festival tomorrow. I hear it’s going to be particularly spectacular this year,” she says as she pulls the blinds on Kakashi's window, blocking out the distant city lights.

U.A? he recognises the name. Kakashi glances up over the pages of HERO!! MONTHLY BREAKDOWN. It is the third time he has read this issue.

“You know, since you like reading those hero magazines, I figured you would be interested in watching the ‘next generation of heroes’ debut,” she continues, noting his attention, “U.A always puts on a good show.”

Kakashi frowns. The problem with his amnesia cover story is that he is still trying to figure out what he can get away with not remembering. So far the doctor’s seem content to chalk up the disappearance of his long term memories to a ‘quirk’ accident but were always more concerned when he failed to recall basic factual information. Something to do with different parts of the brain being responsible for different types of information.

“Watch how?” He settles on asking. U.A. was supposed to be a hero-training academy so whatever this ‘sports festival’ was was worth checking out.

“Oh,” Iori pauses to think, “I, ah, think channel 2 with be covering it?” she hesitates, “You know what. I’ll look it up and let you know later. Sorry, I can’t carry my phone around with me while on shift.”

“Thank you.” He smiles and makes a show of returning to his magazine to dissuade further conversation.

Later the same evening, just before the end of the evening shift, Iori pokes her head into his room again. She is out of uniform, long hair untired, waving to catch his attention.

“The coverage is on channel 2 and starts at 11am,” She holds up her portable communication devise like it means something. It probably did mean something. The frequency by which people checked them suggested it had a function beyond basic communication. He has held off attempting to steal one because, unlike pens, people would notice and care if one went missing.

“Have fun watching! Oh… also, I forgot to ask…”

Kakashi raises a brow.

“I have a bunch of old gossip magazines. Mum used to read them all the time and there are a few hero-themed ones in the mix. I can bring them in if you want more stuff to read.”

“If you want.” Iori must have noticed him re-reading the magazines.

"I'll bring them on Friday!"

Iori had been unsubtly hinting that Kakashi might have had a history in heroics. It definitely wasn’t because reading information on a page just made sense when compared to the barrage of conflicting reports the television gave him. A few weeks with only the television as his information source has him writing off most of its information as useless or propaganda.

…

...

“HEELLLOOOOO, LISTENERS!”

Kakashi stares dully as the video footage, which had been giving him a bird’s eye view of a positively massive stadium, changes to a sweeping shot of what must be thousands of people crammed into seats. It almost makes him claustrophobic just watching it.

“WELLCOME TO OUR ANNUAL U.A. SPORTS FESTIVAL! THE HIGH SCHOOL ADOLESCENT RODEO YOU ALL LOVE TO WATCH. CAN A GET A ‘OH YEAH!’”

As if of one mind, thousands of people leap to their feet screaming. The camera angle changes again to show a grinning blond-haired man, seated at a desk and pointing enthusiastically at the camera. All these shot changes are going to give him a headache. Kakashi is already having reservations watching this and its only10 minutes.

“Thank you! You’re an AMAZING audience!”

It almost reminds him of the final Chunin Exam stages -if the Chunin exams had had three times the audience - which always involved some sort of combat display. There hadn’t been any public Chunin Exams recently for reasons such as a large portion of Konoha being flattened by Pein.

“FIRST UP ARE OUR FIRST-YEAR EVENTS! And what an exciting round of events they are, perfect for debuting our newest students! Give us a shout so they can feel your support!”

Another loud shot as thousands of people yelled in unison.

“Come on! Louder than that! These are your future Heroes I’m talking about! SHOW THEM SOME LOVE!”

More yelling. Kakashi turns down the volume.

“But! Wait just a minute!! We're not only here for our Hero students! As I'm sure you all know, behind every great hero is a hardworking support team! GIVE IT UP FOR our Support, Management and General departments who are also competing for a chance to face off in the finals!”

Kakashi sighs. He is getting the sense that this might be more for entertainment than utility purposes, conforming to the general trend of Hero-related stuff being flashy. Different from the Chunin exam which had deadly consequences if not taken seriously.

“Hey. Hey! HERE THEY COME NOW! OUR STUDENTS PARTICIPATING IN THE FIRST YEAR STAGE!”

What follows is an overly dramatized race where the only thing of interest to him are the obstacle types, including robots, - mobile mechanical weapons of some sort that produced a lot of environmental damage but were taken down fairly easily- and explosive devices that acted a lot like explosive tags. Then there was a team elimination round and one-on-one tournament fights after which the coverage shifts to the second year and third year stages.

He uncovers the sharingun only to discover that, while its memorisation function worked fine, the part that translated the movements into muscle memory felt off. Perhaps, the replication and copying component of the eye didn’t work when viewing a technique through a screen rather than in person. Interesting. As there wasn't anything particularly impressive technique-wise during the events he counts the new information as a net gain.

The student-heroes – he is not sure if there is an official term for a hero in training – barely match Konoha’s academy standard in their taijutsu and physical conditioning though there was marked improvement between first, second and third-year groups. These students were what...between 14-18 years old...and yet most had the skill level of an academy students and fresh genuin with only a few notable exceptions?

Sure, there were - honestly ridiculous- versatile and powerful bloodline abilities being thrown around like nothing, but ninjutsu techniques only took a shinobi so far without a strong base to work from. He shakes his head, reminding himself that these kids - because what else did you call combatants who hadn’t graduated yet- weren’t shinobi in training and would be policing civilians and engaging ‘Villains’ of similar skill levels. It was obvious that the students favoured non-lethal takedown methods and put little to no thought into stealth and misdirection during fights.

Different words…different priorities.

As Kakashi has yet to see any evidence that the country, Japan, was at war with another he thinks the skill level displayed might be serviceable. There were also no major conflicts between the country’s large cities over farmland, water sources and the like. Obviously, this place had sorted out the resource and distribution issues usually encountered when supporting such large populations. Or, who knows, maybe everything on the television was a carefully constructed lie to lull people into complacency.

Now he has seen an example of hero-students, he better understands the low combat ability demonstrated by the police. It also gives incite into the blurry recordings of Hero/Villain confrontations which played on repeat across the various ‘news’ reports. They all tended to hover around Chunin or maybe Special Jounin in terms of skill. He knows generalisations are dangerous so, until he saw the combat in person, he would exercise his usual level of caution. There were bound to be outliers after all-the impressive brute strength of the number one hero comes to mind- and there was no telling what advantages a bloodline ability might provide. Absently, he makes testing the susceptibly of people without chakra to genjustu as something to figure out sooner rather than later.

He sighs. This is why he hated the television. Whenever he watched it, he came away increasingly confused, with more questions than he had answers. Not to mention anything useful being constantly interrupted with information detailing one of the many products that he could apparently buy here. It irritated him to no end.

...

The chakra collecting seal is ready before the week is out. Mostly ready...it was ready enough.

Kakashi returns to the roof. Sitting cross-legged, back against the stairway entrance, he works his way through the 100 or so pens, cracking them open and tapping out ink into a large bowl, stolen -like the pens -from hospital staff.

The mix of black, blue and red ink is gluggy, forcing him to add water to thin the solution out. Once satisfied he pulls out an appropriated scalpel – one of a growing collection hidden alongside his pens because having a stash of weapons is never a bad thing- pricking his middle finger, watching the blood drip and curdle with the mixture. The blood would be absorbed into the ink, allowing it to conduct chakra. He mixes everything with pair of disposable chopsticks, taking care not to spill it on the ground or stain his hands.

The whole process reminds him of other insistences where he had improvised fuinjutsu ink in the field. The last time being during his final Anbu missions where he had created a body storage scroll from scratch after unexpectedly losing a squad mate on what should have been a simple intel retrieval mission. Not a particularly fond memory but a memory he was stuck with.

Since his demotion to Jonin-sensei there had been fewer of those sorts of missions. Not that being a Jonin-sensei had been easy – considering all his students had gone off to find other teachers he didn't even think he had been particularly good at it - bringing with it its own special brand of stress, culminating in a stint as Hokage, a fourth war and him stuck here. He is pretty sure his experiences aren't universal. Team 7 was just cursed to fail in increasingly spectacular ways.

He lets out a heavy sigh, leaving his airways open to a sudden gust of cold wind which carries the scent of cleaning chemicals from the hospital and oil from the road straight up his nose. He exhales forcefully and mentally bumps finding a face mask up his list of priorities. It would be good for hiding his features and dulling the artificial smells of a city housing over a million people.

The sound of wind whistling around the building almost blocks out the echo of feet in the stairway, approaching his location. In one smooth motion, Kakashi stands pushing the remaining broken pen back into the vent, nudging the cover back in place with his foot. Carefully he holds the bowl of ink in his injured arm and a scalpel in the other. Kakashi steps back against the entrance so the outward opening door would hide him from whoever came out.

A crying kid comes barrelling through the door.

Well, not completely crying, more like sniffing loudly, eyes all shiny. He even recognises the kid from the U.A combat demonstration, as improbable as that was. It is the first year hero student with the speed-enhancing ability which, seeing him up close, probably had something to do with the strange growths coming out of his caff muscles. High speed movement put enormous strain on the body so he could reasonably conclude that the kid was physically resilient to acceleration stress and similar forces. Not resilient to stabbing though....

Kakashi forces himself to relax, his scalpel lowering ever so slightly. Lucky he had heard the kid coming or he might have accidentally hurt him. A few weeks of reduced sleep coupled with a lot of time to ruminate on past missions and failures has put him on edge. This was exactly why he disliked taking extended breaks.

Maybe, Kakashi should start relocking the stairway if he was planning to make regular trips up here because the young male probably hadn’t had the roof in mind as a destination. Kakashi knows from experience that, unless you were injured or a member of staff, there were few good reasons to wander around a hospital at odd hours.

With the hero-student distracted sniffling into his arm, Kakashi slips around the door and back down the stairs. He hadn’t planned on applying the seal on the roof anyway. Too exposed to the elements and the concrete was too rough for the delicate line work.

He continues mixing while he walks, having mentally mapped the hospital well enough to know which hallways to use and which to avoid. There is a surgeon with some sort of heat-sensing vision who works late most nights that he must be careful around and a nurse with a weak proximity based empathic ability working in paediatrics. Both obstacles force him to take a meandering detour on his way to the ground floor and the larger shower blocks which housed cubicles the size of small rooms. Enough smooth floorspace for the expanded seal design and easy to clean afterwards. He supposes he is lucky, some complicated fuinjutsu required several meters worth of floor space. The containment on Saskue’s cursed seal comes to mind and he is glad that this seal is infinity smaller.

Not one to waste time knowing that nurses and patients regularly used the space even this late in the evening, he immediately slips into a cubicle upon arrival. Flopping onto the floor he pulls out the paintbrush he had had scour the hospital for and eventually to steal from the children’s ward. Carefully, he begins the slow process of application.

…

The final seal design is circular, about the size of his splayed hand, positioned on his uninjured shoulder just above where his Anbu seal had previously sat. The sleepwear provided by the hospital had sleeves that extend just past his bicep. It hid the design, for the most part. The final visible seal is a bit bigger than he had predicted or planned for. If this were a proper infiltration mission, where blowing his cover came at the price of death, he would be in big trouble. If this were a proper mission, he would have waited before applying this. An unnecessary risk. He itches the back of his head, turning from where he is craning his neck to see the seal, gathering up his supplies to be thrown in one of the hospital’s many rubbish bins. Kakashi lets out a breath. Maybe, this whole ‘trapped in a different world’ thing is affecting him more than he was willing to admit and making him sloppy.

He pulls down the sleeve so it mostly hides the design. Not like the doctors here would recognise the significance of fuinjutsu, he reminds himself, even if their questions would be annoying to deflect.

He pumps chakra into the seal and a jolt akin to lightning runs down his limb. It activates without issue and Kakashi grimaces as his chakra is slowly drained and collected. The rate of the drain is pathetically slow. Three years too slow. But, between this and his sharingan - which was always active and draining chakra- he can’t risk making it quicker. Despite the relatively low-level threats around him, Kakashi is, first and foremost, a Jonin in an unknown territory who is already taking risks simply making and applying the seal. He can’t afford to impair himself with poor chakra management on top of everything else.

Kakashi pops his head out of the cubical, scanning the shower block. Nothing of note has changed and he darts out, intent on returning to his room. He is tired and it would be a long, tiresome week as his body adjusted to the strain as well.

#bnha #bnha fanfic #naruto #CrossOver #dimension travel AU #hatake kakashi #kakashi headcanons #cultural shock #Iida makes a breif cameo #fanfiction #my hero academia #plot continues to move at a glacial pace

41 notes · View notes

spockandawe · 3 years

Text

I doubt this is something I’ll ever even try to write, because I rarely have the energy these days to devote my energy to a ‘lol but what if’ ship. But never say never, and I legit wrote the emilonni and tlj/sqq fics, after all, so I’m going to write this down and maybe, possibly, someday come back to it.

Now, hear me out

Wei Wuxian/Jin Zixun

Yes, yes, I know, but give me a second. It’s the sort of ship where I kind of want to do it just to see if it can be done, and where the idea of ‘textual support’ is kind of laughable, and it’s not like I’m smashing together two super-popular characters who just never happened to speak, and it’s the kind of ship where I think I could only shake one fic out of it before I was repeating myself, BUT.

First, a quote:

The person at the head of the group was Jin Zixun. He said, “Zixuan, is that Wei making trouble for you again?!”

Jin Zixuan said, “None of your business, don’t worry about it for now!” Seeing that Wei Wuxian grabbed Jiang Yanli and was about to take her away, he added, “Stop!”

Wei Wuxian said, “Oh, you want to fight? That’s fine with me!”

Jin Zixun said, “You Wei, just what do you mean by going against Zixuan so many times?”

Wei Wuxian looked at him. “Who are you?”

Jin Zixun paused in shock, and fumed, “You don’t know who I am?!”

“Why should I know who you are?”

When the Sunshot Campaign had first broken out, Jin Zixun had insisted on defending the back lines, due to an injury. He hadn’t had the chance to see what Wei Wuxian was like on the front lines, and most of his knowledge had come from rumors. He hadn’t care much for him, thinking that the rumors were simply exaggerations. However, a while ago, Wei Wuxian had summoned all of the dark creatures in the forest with a whistle, calling away the fierce corpses Jin Zixun’s group had been about to capture, causing their efforts to be wasted. He was already displeased.

Now, in front of his face, Wei Wuxian was asking who he was, stirring up a strange sense of indignation within him— He knew Wei Wuxian, yet Wei Wuxian didn’t know him, and even dared ask who he was in front of everyone. It was as if this had caused him to lose too much face. The more he thought about it, the more irritated he became.

Now, there’s a thoughtful meta I hopefully reblogged to my sideblog, which I would have to dig up or recreate on my own, about the most sympathetic possible reading of Jin Zixun. If memory serves, it has a lot to do about the precarious nature of his social position, where he’s part of the Jin clan, and kind of the closest thing Jin Zixuan has to a brother, but also, everyone knows that Jin Zixuan has half-siblings coming out of the woodwork, and many of them would be stoked to get Jin Guangshan to accept them into the family. At this stage in the story, Jin Guangyao is already a major player and a hero of the war and part of the venerated triad, where Jin Zixun spent a lot of time... not in the thick of things, like most other peers of his generation.

Is he an asshole? Yes! Is... Wei Wuxian an asshole? Also yes! One of them may be a more likeable asshole than the other, but that’s part of the excitement of a story like this, trying to coax people into holding a fannish position that they’d never considered before, and aren’t particularly eager to be convinced of. I don’t think I’m bad at that uphill climb, it just takes a lot of energy that I don’t often have to begin that journey in the first place. Also, one of these assholes is a certified grade-A torturer, and it’s probably not the one you dislike. Jin Zixun isn’t starting from an insurmountable disadvantage here.

And see, the thing that got my attention is this: Earlier in this chapter, Wei Wuxian is a little melancholy, thinking about how since the Sunshot Campaign, lots of people are scared of him, hardly anyone is willing to be alone with him, and almost nobody would ever be willing to approach him alone. And here, we get the information that because Jin Zixun was injured early and wasn’t on the front lines of the Sunshot Campaign, he doesn’t know to be afraid. He tried to provoke Wei Wuxian before the hunt, he’s about to keep provoking Wei Wuxian, he’s Jin Zixun and he doesn’t afraid of anything. Yes, he’s about to say some very hurtful things, but I look at that, and I think ‘okay, now how do we recover from this?’ Giving Wei Wuxian someone who just... plain isn’t afraid of him (but is also derailed by me, your author, from taking that to unrecoverable places) would be good for him. Jiang Cheng will antagonize him and isn’t afraid of him, but they also share years of history and are dealing with a lot of other stresses in this situation, and Jiang Cheng is asking things from Wei Wuxian that Wei Wuxian is struggling to provide, and the golden core thing is still hanging between them. Lan Wangji isn’t afraid of Wei Wuxian, but Wei Wuxian parses his concern and worries as antagonism and criticism, and those stress him out in a whole different way. This dynamic, as much as I would have to work to make it happen, would bring something new to the table.

One of my favorite activities is crackshipping with sincerity, and when I poke at this, it genuinely feels like richer territory than it looks at first glance. A lot of the antagonists share some fascinating character notes with our lead, and what’s most interesting to me here is an elevated-but-precarious social position and the various stresses that puts upon our characters. Jin Guangyao is the most obvious example, and Su She echoes it more quietly, with how he struggled within the Lan Sect and eventually left (honestly, kudos to him for him and mianmian to be two of the only characters to realize that their home was hurting them and to leave). Jin Zixun is in a family position that’s close to being brothers with his sect’s heir, but isn’t quite brothers, and is close to the seat of power, but also in a precarious social position if someone acts against him. Jin Guangshan and Madam Jin create a dysfunctional family dynamic to grow up in, where Jin Guangshan’s heart attention strays from his wife, and his wife has beat at least one kid who wasn’t biologically hers in the household.

There’s some common ground, is all I’m saying

I don’t even know what would happen, necessarily, I’m talking this all out here right now, and the interesting part of ships like this is digging in extra deep, and seeing what unexpected thing shakes out. It isn’t quite in the style of the other notable rarepair fics I have managed to write, which tend to follow a paradigm of ‘[person] is floating unmoored from the world, and [love interest] gets them engaged with life again’, but it’s not totally out of line with my interests. Svsss won’t give us more detail about Tianlang-jun? Okay, what happens if I make him hopelessly fond, what happens then? What happens if I properly re-engage his sense of humor? I hardly had anything of substance to go on with Horuss, and that fic is old, but I managed to pull interesting things out of him with Roxy. And I mean... what does happen when Jin Zixun stops self-destructively antagonizing the people around him and starts acting in more neutral ways? Not even positive, I think this relationship is going to have a strong antagonistic component, but what happens if he stops basing his interactions purely on who gets the higher rung on the social ladder?

Now, I do have a problem, which is that plot is something that happens to other people. See also: the reason there has not been a tianlang-jun sequel. I think that it would almost definitely have to do with repairing the situation between Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli and both of them managing to dial it back a LITTLE so as not to completely sabotage their family member’s happiness, and that leading things forward. And in a ridiculous pipe dream that will never be realized, because either possible pov will be completely oblivious, I would also want to include Jin Zixuan’s confused bisexual awakening and his resentful (also confused) attraction towards Wei Wuxian, even if he still ends up with Jiang Yanli, but... wei wuxian isn’t going to notice, and neither is jin zixun, SO. That’s probably right out. And the plot implications would have to be... significant. Setting it post-Sunshot campaign means that the Wen situation is simmering, and any plot that involves me untangling that mess... terrifying! I wouldn’t know where to begin! But like, also. What if I could write this ship in a compelling way. I bet I could do it. Nothing feels as good as the sensation of ‘I have scored points on my own darling readers by convincing them to like something they didn’t want to like’, and usually, I only get that from the second person pov. It would be so hard to write this ship. But also, what if I did it.

#the untamed #wei wuxian #jin zixun #don't judge meeeee #joke's on me #if i do write this i will have to be entirely self-motivating #because i am 99% sure my usual sounding boards will be 1000% uninterested XDDDDD #if i do another bingo document tho....#which i have been considering......#we'll see!#for now we see what my underutilized tag for this is #fic ideas #there we go #long post/

34 notes · View notes

dangerouscommiesubversive · 3 years

Note

All Kyurangers, A

A is for aurora

The sun is coming up in Kotaro’s right eye, and when Raptor sees him she actually screams. “What happened to you?”

“I got in a fight.” He doesn’t look unhappy about it. “Don’t worry, though, I won.”

“You got in a--with who? Where? Why?”

“Uh, some guys. You know, there’s those weird Jark Matter loyalists? They were saying the Kyuurangers were liars and trying to, like, get people worked up. It was at. Um.” Now he looks nervous. “A bar.”

She squawks. “Who took you to a bar?” And, eyes blazing, to the others spilling into the common area, “Who took Kotaro to a bar?”

Stinger, Hame, and Balance all immediately say, “Tsurugi.”

--who chooses this moment, of course, to walk in with several bags on his arm, say, “Hame, where did you want me to leave the--” and then freeze at the sight of Raptor bearing down on him like a warship. “Ah. Raptor. How may I--”

She’s venting steam. “You took Kotaro to a bar? And let him get in a fight?”

“I was interested in a news program being shown there, and he’s a responsible young man--”

“He’s ten!”

“I’m eleven now,” Kotaro says, indignant, and then winces as Spada paints disinfectant onto a cut on his eyebrow.

“Oh, because that’s better. You--you--Tsurugi, I am cancelling all of your future shore leave.” Raptor whirls around to face Kotaro again as Tsurugi sputters. “And you are grounded!”

“You don’t actually have the authority to cancel shore leave, Raptor,” Shou says genially as he wanders into the common area and starts poking through various shopping bags. “Given that we don’t really have formal shore leave, everyone just gets off the ship whenever and doesn’t tell me where they’re going. What’s the matter, anyway--wow, that’s a black eye.”

“Kotaro got in a bar fight.” Champ sounds amused. “It looks like he did impressively!”

“I’m impressed with the bruising, that’s for sure. What was Kotaro doing in a bar? Hey, don’t slap me.”

“Leave those alone, they’re going to be part of dessert,” Spada says, not even looking as he bats Shou’s hand away from the groceries again. “He was with Tsurugi. Hold still, Kotaro, I need to get a bandage on this.”

“So why was Tsurugi taking Kotaro to get into bar fights? I hope you won,” aside, to Kotaro, who grins at him.

Raptor says, furious, “Commander!”

“Tsurugi wanted to watch the news. Some of the bar patrons were Jark Matter loyalists making unflattering comments about the Kyuurangers.” Naaga’s busy helping Balance unpack a selection of small machine components onto one of the tables, for some purpose known only to the two of them. “Kotaro was offended by their remarks and punched one of them.”

Shou’s eyes go wide. “Ohh. I hope you beat them like an antique carpet, then. Ah--that is, don’t get in fights.”

Kotaro’s grin gets wider as Raptor, voice rising impressively in pitch, repeats, “Commander--wait. Wait. Naaga? You were there and you didn’t stop him?”

All of Naaga’s practice with expressiveness comes visibly into play as he freezes, face taking on an expression of almost comical alarm. It’s such an impressive display that nearly everyone misses him hiding one of his shopping bags under the table. “I was. Otherwise occupied.”

“With what--and, and where are Lucky and Garu?”

The answer, from several corners of the room and in varying tones of amusement, is, “They got arrested,” followed by Stinger, more usefully, adding, “Lucky said that he started the fight while Hame was getting Kotaro away, and when one of the cops didn’t believe him, Garu punched them. They’re waiting on a transmission from Kaien now saying that Lucky’s the king so that he can invoke some kind of immunity thing.”

Raptor’s chassis is making worrying little ping noises, so it’s probably fortunate that at this point there’s the loud chime of an incoming transmission and one of the comm screens lights up with Lucky’s grinning face. “Hey, everyone, we’re on our way back! But also I have to have dinner with the prime minister later and somebody’s gonna need to be my date.”

Garu’s face pops up over Lucky’s shoulder. “How’s Kotaro’s eye garu?”

Raptor makes an indignant noise, so Spada answers instead. “He’s doing fine.”

Kotaro waves at the comm screen. “It doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

“That’s great garu! You look like a tough guy!”

“I. I don’t.” Raptor leans into Hame’s arm around her shoulders with a frustrated whistle. “It’s not like I object to punching Jark Matter loyalists, but getting into bar fights?”

Hame grins at her. “To be fair, I did tell Tsurugi he shouldn’t take Kotaro in there, but it’s not like he really listens to me when he’s got an idea in his head.”

“And--wait, what was Naaga doing at the bar if he wasn’t with them?”

“Meeting some guy, you’ll have to ask him about it.”

“Hey, Raptor!” Lucky’s waving frantically at the comm screen. “Wanna be my date to the prime minister’s place tonight?”

Raptor groans. “I hate all of you--wait, did Lucky just ask me on a date?”

#sakuma kotaro #raptor-283 #and all of the other kyuurangers as well but i'm not tagging the full list #those two talk the most #uchuu sentai kyuranger #fanfiction #askrikkaiandhyotei

9 notes · View notes

ask-de-writer · 4 years

Text

CAPTURED BY THE CLANS : Part 9 of 10 : Science Fiction

Return to Science Fiction

Return to the Master Story Index

CAPTURED BY THE CLANS

Part 9 of 10

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

18231 words

//////////////

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

New to the story? Read from the beginning. Part 1 is HERE.

///////////////////////

Lezon turned her attention from T’cass alone to include the others. She told them all, “I was given the task of finding possible ships for your consideration. This morning, I used your comm unit to conduct a rough search. I stored the results in the file, SHIPS. The results are tiered by price in Clan Credit. I am not sure of your resources or I could have done better.”

K’ress and M’rel both thanked Lezon for her work. They had already learned that T’cass expected Lezon to be treated like a member of the clan, not a slave. They were truly amused that Lezon had already found the kitchen and set out serving cages with snacks to start their day.

They spent the morning looking over Lezon’s research list. Even with the end of a war, it was depressingly small. Less than a hundred appeared to be usable choices. One was a true antique.

Lezon pointed to the antique. “It is cheap and the information claims that it is flyable. Even with the cost of a refit, it will come to less than any of the others. Also, I can get you a discount on the refit.”

Now all three of the others gazed at Lezon as if her fur were falling out in patches. T’cass pointed out, “No shipyard on the planet will even touch anything over a hundred years old. Do you have any idea just how old that thing is?”

Lezon nodded, “If I remember my class information from the war correctly, that ship was made about one hundred and seventy-five to one hundred and fifty-six years ago. If it really is flyable, that’s why we want it.”

M’rel looked at K’ress and remarked, “Perhaps you were right about that psychiatric evaluation.”

T’cass asked, “How can you get a refit if no yard on the planet will do it?”

Lezon pointed out with a smile, “I know the Feront. It has two ring fusion city ships here for Treaty Commission scrap work. It has already agreed to do a scrap based refit of this ship, the D’ancer. We pay for parts at scrap price and it will give me the labor.”

Skeptically, M’rel asked, “Why would it forgo the profit? Friendship?”

“Partly,” Lezon grinned, “and partly sense of humor.”

All three gazed at Lezon as if they were trying to see inside her skull and figure out what was there. It was an interesting effort. T’cass spoke up first, saying, “I know the Feront too, and I never realized that it had a sense of humor.”

Lezon grinned hugely. “It most definitely does. Remember when it presented itself to be made a member of the Treaty Commission? All those gaudy uniforms and titles? They mean nothing to the Feront. One of its organic units is the same as any other to it. It was laughing at our rank system, which it still thinks is hilarious.

“That sense of humor worked to our advantage this morning. While I was on the comm to the Feront, a bureaucrat from the Planetary Resources Committee interrupted our call with a priority override. The Feront took her call and we switched to one of the twelve empty channels. The Resources Committee changed their call frequency to kick me off again. She told the Feront that no slave had anything to say that should distract its attention from the needs of the Planetary Government.

“When we could talk again, the Feront told me that the ‘needs of the Planetary Government’ were now firmly placed on its priority list. Just below mine.”

T’cass suddenly grinned wide herself and exclaimed, “Well managed Conflict! That is beautiful! Now, explain to me why we want a ship that dates to the earliest days of Inertial Drives. The spec sheet says that it can generate less than one standard G of acceleration. That is why that old hulk needs a reaction drive with a huge tank of liquid mass just to get off the ground. The interstellar fusion ramjet igniter is disassembled and less than half the ship’s volume is habitable. The power capsule can barely hold enough energy to get us to a close star, let alone the long range trading that we are planning.”

Lezon heard T’cass out, nodding agreement at every point. When T’cass ran down, she added, “Actually it can’t get out of the system, yet. It only has liftoff and in-system flight certificates. What makes it valuable is that it was built to lift off routinely at six G’s of uncompensated acceleration. It has a nine G red line which includes lateral maneuvers in an atmosphere as well. Only a System Siege Cruiser or a Battleship can take as much.

“Besides, because it’s such an antique, it’s dirt cheap. You should get out of the refit to Clan Family Class B Freight with a total cost of Clan Cr 250,000.”

Three heads turned to each other, eyes narrow in calculation. K’ress started to ask, “Where is all that cargo space coming from?” She suddenly got it and answered her own question, “The reaction mass tank, of course! It’s huge!”

The others began to nod in understanding. “We could at least go and look at it,” they agreed.

On the scrap field, they stood and looked up. The D’ancer still stood solidly on her landing jacks. The personnel port near her tail was gaping open. Lezon left the group and began to critically examine the seals on the port. K’ress joined her followed by T’cass.

The salesperson began to show nervousness and smiled ingratiatingly saying, “Really, now that you’ve looked at this thing, I have several good ships that have current certificates. They will pay themselves off in only a few years!”

Dryly, M’rel responded, “We saw. Clan Family Class J Freight. Way overpriced in this market, too.” She then called over to them, “What do you think, Guys? Will it make a good amusement park ride?”

The salesperson nearly choked. “You mean to actually fly this thing? With customers?”

M’rel looked brightly at her and said innocently, “Why your advertisement, dated only two months back, says that it comes with liftoff and In-System Flight Certificates. With only a little refurbishing of the interior it should make an exciting ride for the kits! Lots of noise, clouds of steam and an uncompensated three G blastoff to two hundred thousand feet! I can’t imagine a more exciting ride! Can you?” She batted her eyelashes at the salesperson, who was suddenly looking sick.

K’ress poked her head out the port and gestured to the salesperson, “Come in here, please!” she demanded. Inside, they all climbed the ladder over a hundred feet up to the engine control bay.

The power capsule lay heavy in its cradle. The big superconducting cables were laying like snakes across the floor, out of their clips and racks. The case of the Inertial Drive Control Computer was open and cables with empty connectors hung out. Several boards were clearly missing. Lezon was busily sorting the boards and components of the ramjet fusion ignitor.

“Madams,” she said deferentially to T’cass and the others, “the advertisement claims that the fusion igniter is complete but disassembled. This is not true. The entire ignition injector and initiator are missing. There are at least three control boards missing as well.” Without waiting, she swung agilely up the ladder to the control room.

T’cass, M’rel, and K’ress saw Lezon’s tiny ‘thumbs up’ signal as she reported, “Madams, this vessel was misrepresented. They have claimed In-System and Liftoff certificates. The entire navigational computer, the detection system and the life support control panel have been removed.”

K’ress turned to the salesperson and addressed her almost compassionately. “Yanking that stuff proves that this bird was headed for scrap. At scrap she’s not worth Cr 45,000. We’ll do you a favor. We’ll take her for Cr 60,000 but you have to earn that fifteen.

“We supervise all the work. Run us some tests. Charge the power capsule to ninety gigawatts. Run chill and superconductivity testing on all the cables. Replace the nav computers and detection system with anything that works well enough for orbital hopping. Put in any Inertial Drive Controller and program it for a .75 G max push. Run the Inertial Drive at .75 G for one hour. Replace the lock seals and pressure test the hull.”

The salesperson saw profit fleeing out the exhaust and started to retort, “Cr 100,000! That’s saving you ten grand! Strictly an as is sale at that price. You want certificates, they’re extra. Cough up!” Her eye caught T’cass inputting a connection on her comm. She had selected for a vision and speaker connection.

Several reptilian heads appeared in the vision field. Two homed on Lezon and one on T’cass. The others were looking about at what they could see of the control room. They all spoke at once in the typically polyphonic voice of the Feront, “Friends! T’cass, I have not seen you since your battle input at M’onafar! Most clever. I have made many notes in the Treaty Commission Archive about that battle.

“I was informed by servant Lezon that you will be buying a ship soon. Is this it? Shall I send inspection for T.C. certificates?”

Pleased, T’cass responded, “It is good to see you again, friend Feront. Yes, this is the vessel. It is advertised with certificates. The advertisement was forwarded to you under a T.C. seal already.” The saleswoman made a choking noise.

The scanning heads of the various units of the Feront scrutinized the cabin through the comm field and it responded, “This vessel is presently in violation of its advertised certification. The fine will be Cr 250,000 if it is presented in this condition. I hope that the missing equipment is merely out for repair or replacement.”

Desperately, the salesperson said, “Of course! We are still negotiating on details. There may be a down grade of certification, for a reduced price, of course!”

Several of the Feront had wandered out of the transmission field and others had wandered in but it spoke seamlessly, “This is reasonable. How much time is needed for flight certificate issuance?”

Glaring at T’cass, the salesperson said, “About a month. The vessel is an old one and we need to sure that equipment interfaces are safe.”

The polyphonic voice said, “I will see you in a month’s time, then, unless you call sooner, friends T’cass and servant Lezon.” The field went snowy blank and faded.

T’cass folded her comm smiling. To the salesperson she said, “The way I see it, giving us this ship with the repairs I stated would save you about Cr 190,000. Still, you have an investment to recoup and some profit to make. Cr 65,000?”

The salesperson avoided T’cass’ hand as she stalked for the ladder muttering, “We have to go to the office for the paperwork.”

It is hard to sulk while climbing down over a hundred feet of ladder but the salesperson managed it. With ill grace she waited for them to board her flitter for the run to the office. She tried to shut out Lezon but T’cass simply blocked the flitter door open with her body until Lezon was securely aboard.

In only three weeks the D’ancer was ready for her first liftoff in over sixty years. The Feront sent four of itself down to conduct the Treaty Commission inspection. It scattered throughout the ship, testing equipment in skilled claws. After a short time, one of it closed the ports.

“Pressure test,” observed K’ress calmly. Turning to the salesperson, she said, “Your people did a first rate job. Second hand parts but all serviceable. Clean mating of new gear and old, too.”

Resigned to the situation, the sales person replied, “Thanks. It was a dirty trick, getting that thing volunteer to do the inspection right off the bat, that way. It takes us from two weeks to three months to get the T.C. off their butts and over here. How come it’s so prompt for you?”

K’ress jerked a thumb at T’cass and Lezon. “Them. They both know the Feront and call it just to make small talk. I gather that they are among the few friends that it has. It was no coincidence that the Feront sent two fusion ring city ships to this system. It wanted to talk. Godesses! How they talk! Hours at a time!”

The hatches opened and all four of the Feront hopped out and swarmed down the crew ladder. Some of it facing M’rel and K’ress, some the salesperson, the Feront pronounced polyphonically, “The vessel, D’ancer, now has certificates installed for assisted reaction drive launch and high orbit work near to inhabited spheres.”

All four of its units turning as one, it descended on T’cass and Lezon like a pile of happy kits. “May I play with your entities again? I have thought of a possible strategy that may put you to a disadvantage!”

The sales person unbelievingly saw the slave that she’d snubbed so meanly at first meeting, leap to the back of one of the Feront creatures. She was calling, “T’cass, can we? It will only delay launch by a few hours!” Wheedlingly she added, “It will help our goodwill with the Feront. That could pay us well.”

M’rel ran it down like an accountant. “We have pad space paid here for two more days. The house lease isn’t up for four more days. A few hours? Go play, you kits! Just be here in six hours to lift this clunker into orbit for the rest of its refit.”

TO BE CONTINUED

<==PREVIOUS ~ NEXT==>(link not yet active)

Return to Science Fiction

Return to the Master Story Index

#CAPTURED BY THE CLANS #Part 9 of 10 #Science Fiction #Written by De Writer

7 notes · View notes

queenofcats17 · 4 years

Note

Hi there! I wanted to say I really like Charlie and the Lawrences!! If it’s ok, I wanted to send a prompt in for them? I understand if you have too many prompts right now, so if you can’t do this one, I totally get it^^ Here it is: I’d imagine at some point Charlie gets involved in the magic shenanigans at the studio. What’s the first one they experience? (I.E: they visit the studio after school and it’s teeny Sammy times, or something happens to them specifically, and no one is Ok with This™)

No worries. I’m really glad you like Charlie!

This is certainly going to be interesting. But it also got kind of sad.

————————————————-

It was a small miracle Charlie hadn’t experienced the bizarre shenanigans of Joey Drew Studios sooner. They’d been with Susie and Sammy for almost six months before they witnessed one of the transformations that were so common at the studio. Part of this may have been because they’d recently been enrolled in school, much to their chagrin. In any case, they’d heard about the transformations from their parents, usually through Sammy’s complaining about whatever shenanigans Joey had put them through, but they hadn’t seen one before that point. Despite this lack of concrete proof, Charlie wholeheartedly believed in the magic of the studio. After all, literal cartoons lived in the studio.

They’d been coming back from school that day. Their routine was that they dropped by the studio after school to hang out until it was time for their parents to head home. They’d been a little nervous when they’d first started school because they’d be leaving Shadow and her kittens, (They’d named the girl Soot since she was gray and the boy Pancake. They didn’t really have a reason for naming Pancake what they had since he was black and white, not any shade of brown. Still, that was what Charlie had wanted.) but a nice woman who lived next door had volunteered to watch the cats until the family got home.

“I’m here!” Charlie announced, opening the door to the studio. Almost immediately, they noticed that something seemed to be going on. The employees they could see were running around frantically, but not in the way they usually were.

Usually, when Charlie arrived the employees were running around delivering scripts and checking various animation cells with their superiors. But at the moment they were running around carrying buckets of ink and things that Charlie vaguely recognized as ritual components. Although they weren’t allowed to be around when Joey was conducting rituals, they knew what the components looked like due to asking questions.

“Oh, hey kiddo!” Wally stuck his head out from the hallway. “This, uh, might not be the best time.” For once, he didn’t have ink smeared all over his face.

“What’s…goin’ on?” Charlie asked slowly, hobbling toward him.

It was at that point that Sammy rounded the corner, grumbling to himself. However, he didn’t look the way he had when he’d left the house that morning. He was a toon. Again. A demon toon this time, judging from the horns poking out from his hair and the spade tipped tail flicking back and forth.

“That’s why…” Wally grimaced as Sammy and Charlie locked eyes. Charlie’s eyes widened and they dropped their backpack.

“Hey…” Sammy grimaced as well. He’d honestly been dreading this. Charlie knew about the transformations Sammy went through, but he wasn’t sure what his child’s reaction was going to be. This was weird even for him.

Thankfully, the reaction was far from negative.

“This…is so cool!” Charlie lit up, bouncing up and down as best they could without falling over. Sammy let out an internal sigh of relief, although due to his current toon state it wasn’t so internal.

“What happened? Was it Mr. Joey again?” Charlie asked, getting closer to play with Sammy’s tail.

“Yeah.” Sammy nodded, his tail swishing in irritation at the memory. “He was trying to improve Bendy’s design and, well….” He gestured to himself.

“The magic ink got in the pipes again,” Wally added. “Standard stuff.”

“Can I be a toon?” Charlie looked up at Sammy with sparkling eyes. “Please? I wanna try it too!”

“Absolutely not.” Sammy immediately replied.

“Aw, why?” Charlie asked, face screwed up in a quintessentially childish pout. “Mr. Drew knows how to reverse it, right? It wouldn’t hurt if I got to be a toon for a little.”

“It’s still incredibly dangerous.” Sammy insisted.

“But you get turned into a toon all the time!” Charlie whined.

“And every time I’m worried I’ll never be able to turn back!”

“But you do get turned back!”

“It’s dangerous!”

As the argument escalated, Wally stood there, unsure what to do. He really didn’t want to get in the middle of this. To be fair, Sammy had a point. Getting transformed into various things was incredibly dangerous and it was understandable Sammy wouldn’t want his kid getting involved in it. It was causing a bit of a scene, though.

Sammy was trying very hard not to yell, knowing how terrifying he could be when he yelled, but Charlie was full-on screaming. Their argument was loud enough that it attracted Susie’s attention. She came running from Joey’s office, looking rather concerned.

“What’s going on?” She asked, looking even more concerned when she saw Sammy and Charlie fighting.

“Charlie wanted to try bein’ a toon and Sammy doesn’t wanna let him,” Wally explained in a low voice.

“Oh dear.” Susie turned her attention back to Sammy and Charlie.

Charlie was crying and so had stopped yelling for the moment. Sammy’s horns lowered, like a cat lowering its ears.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” he said, gathering Charlie in his arms. “I just don’t want something to happen to you.”

“We worry about you, dear,” Susie agreed, joining the hug. “As fun as it might sound to be a cartoon for a little, there’s always the possibility that something will happen and you won’t be able to turn back. It’s something I worry about all the time when this happens to Sammy.”

“But I wanna try it,” Charlie said weakly. “Maybe…Maybe if I’m a toon, my legs will work better.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Susie’s expression softened. There were tears in her eyes and even Sammy looked a bit misty-eyed. She and Sammy held Charlie tighter, Sammy’s tail wrapping around both of them. It was a frankly adorable scene.

Wally took that opportunity to leave. He didn’t want to spoil the moment. Besides, Joey probably needed help setting up the ritual.

After a few minutes, the three of them drew back from the hug.

“Do your legs really bother you that much, dear?” Susie asked.

“A little,” Charlie sniffled.

“Physical therapy is always an option,” Sammy said. They’d taken Charlie to the doctor a few weeks after adopting them and the doctor had that physical therapy might help with the muscle damage in Charlie’s legs. It wasn’t a guarantee, but it was a possibility.

“The doctor said it might not work.” Charlie hunched their shoulders.

“But it’s a possibility,” Susie said, brushing some hair out of Charlie’s eyes and fixing their little flower barrette.

“But…I don’t want to be a burden,” Charlie mumbled.

“A burden? Why would we think of you as a burden?” Sammy asked.

“I dunno.” Charlie hunched their shoulders more. “My old family thought I was a burden…”

Susie’s expression darkened and literal steam began to come out of Sammy’s ears. Neither of them had asked about how Charlie had found themselves on the street. They’d known it likely wasn’t a particularly happy story.

“We will never think of you as a burden, darling.” Susie swept them up in her arms again. “You’re our family now and family means no one gets left behind.”

“We might get angry at you sometimes, but we’re not going to abandon you.” Sammy agreed, smiling gently.

“Promise?” Charlie looked up at them, their voice so small and unsure it made Sammy want to find the people who had abandoned them and give them a piece of his mind.

“Promise.” Sammy and Susie said together.

“Okay.” Charlie still looked a bit unsure but allowed Susie and Sammy to hug them again.

“I still think you look really cool, Dad,” they said after a bit.

“I think I look ridiculous,” Sammy grumbled, his gaze flicking down to his tail. “And this thing is more trouble than it’s worth.” Controlling four limbs was bad enough. He didn’t want to have to deal with another.

“I think the idea of you as a demon is rather…interesting.” Susie gave him a mischevious smile. Immediately, Sammy blushed and began to sputter. Charlie looked blankly between the two of them for a moment or two before recognition dawned on their face and their expression turned to one of horror.

“Ew! Gross!”

Susie just giggled.

#bendy and the ink machine #fanfiction #hell's studio au #charlie lawrence #sammy lawrence #susie campbell #wally franks #tw mentions of abuse

18 notes · View notes

mtwalker · 4 years

Text

Weekly Writing

This is quite a long one, but it’s a couple days after the last post.

---------------------------------------------------------

“Ugh!” Adeline pushed some papers across one of the many tables in her lab, searching hectically for something. “Where’s the-” Varian’s newly-gloved hand dangled the small screwdriver in front of her face. She sighed in relief, looking at him over her shoulder. His smirk spread across his face, which was covered in haphazard ink smudges after the day and a half they had been working. Her chest seemed to constrict at the sight of him and she had the urge to reach out and brush his long black fringe out of his face.

Pushing the thoughts out of her mind, she took the screwdriver from him and turned back to the small figures on the table in front of her. No time to unpack all of those strange reactions right now. They were already crunched for time, and the princess expected results. Considering how little the pair had slept over the last day or so, Adeline was impressed with the amount of progress they had made. Her housing units were almost complete, and Varian had insisted that his compound was almost perfect.

Screwing in the final legs of her creatures, she was finally able to turn to her partner. He held two beakers a couple inches from his face, his tongue poking between his teeth in concentration. She held her breath in anticipation, watching the two liquids slosh in their beakers. As they connected, a warm bright glow started to emit from the glass, lighting the room and both of their grins. Adeline had to fight the urge to react, knowing that any loud or sudden movement could startle him and cause them to lose the compound. After she was sure Varian had settled the beaker back into its stand, she ran at him. He caught her in his arms, laughing.

“We did it! It actually worked!” He gasped, bouncing on his toes with his arms crossed tight behind her back. She laughed with him, kicking her feet in the air. He gently sat her back on the ground and pulled away, the excitement still bright in his eyes. She nudged him with her hip, grinning up at him.

“I told you we could do it.”

“I never doubted us,” He grinned back, lightly pushing her shoulder. She shook her head and rolled her eyes.

“Come on. I’ll open the units and you pour the compound. Then they’ll be ready to hand over.” His smile seemed to falter for a second, which made Adeline pause. “What is it?”

“We should hurry. Don’t wanna keep anyone waiting,” He turned around and grabbed the beaker, his voice having a forced edge to it that worried her. But he was right, now wasn’t the time to push this.

After a few minutes of Adeline unscrewing each of the housing units center containment regions and Varian carefully filling them with the component he had created, their creations were finally complete and lined up on the table. Moments after sealing the last one, the princess and her group stepped through the door.

“One of the guards said he heard cheering. Did you…” The princess bit her lip, her bare toes taping on the ground. Adeline moved to the side to reveal the six mechanical bugs lined up along the table. Rapunzel ran forward, leaning in close to take in the small creatures sitting on the workbench. “Wonderful! How do they work? How long will they last?” Adeline lifted one gently in her hand, attaching a metal band to her wrist.

“This button here on the top activates them. When pressed, a chemical fills the bulb on the end, creating a light. The bug will then fly in a circle with about a ten-foot radius around you and return to your hand. Keep the band on you so it knows where to come back to. If you click the button again the chemical will go back into the middle and the light will go out.” Adeline passed out the pieces as she spoke, pointing out the various parts as she described them. “There are two extras in case anything happens. Be careful with them. We weren’t able to do extensive testing.”

“Oh, they look wonderful!” Rapunzel grinned up at her with wide eyes. “Thank you!” She turned to look at Varian and her grin softened to one with a hint of nervousness behind it. “And thank you too, Varian.” Adeline noticed him tense behind her, his gaze focused hard on the table beside him.

“Your Majesty, there’s not a lot of time. You all should go.”

“W-Well, I wanted to say-”

“Sundrop,” Eugene placed a hand on Rapunzel’s shoulder, casting an understanding glance at the inventor, “we’ve gotta go. We’ll have all the time in the world to talk later.”

“Yes,” The princess nodded, “You’re right, Eugene.” She tucked the spare bugs into her satchel and smiled one final time at the two scientists. Eugene lead her quickly out of the room, making sure to shut the door behind him.

Adeline turned to face Varian, who was still staring intently at the table. Ruddiger seemed to have noticed his odd behavior as well and crawled up to Varian’s shoulder. The raccoon chittered and batted at his hair, pressing his cold nose to the crook in the alchemist’s neck. This seemed to knock Varian out of his trance, causing him to shake his head and playfully push the furry creature away.

“Let’s get this cleaned up,” Adeline smiled softly at the two of them and moved over to her tables. She started straightening her equipment, making sure it would be easy to find the next day. Her father had always instilled in her the importance of an organized workspace, saying that it helped to save time and to keep the mind focused.

Once she had straightened the final piece, she turned to find Varian still cleaning out his beakers. She knew that for an alchemist making sure his equipment was clean could be the line between life and death, but even to that extent he was taking much longer than necessary. She quietly moved behind him and placed a hand on his arm. He stiffened at her touch but didn’t stop his cleaning.

“Is everything okay?”

“Of course. We were successful. Everything’s all fixed. Nothing else to be worried about.” He was still looking intently down at his beakers, as if he were more focused on not looking at her than what he was actually looking at.

“Varian come on. Talk to me.” She gently tugged his arm, turning him to face her. His bright eyes finally glanced up at her, his face still ducked downward.

“I guess…” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, “I just was starting to get used to being up here. Going back feels… hard.” He scrunched up his nose at the thought, his other hand fiddling with the beaker.

“Well, I was thinking, what with our success and all…” Adeline offered him a small smile, “I might be needing an assistant. And think of all the things I could accomplish with an actual alchemist working with me.” Varian chuckled, rubbing his eyes.

“I don’t know how well the king will react to the idea of me no longer being imprisoned.”

“I think as long as our setup remains similar to how it currently is, it should be fine. There’s a side room off of the lab with a couple beds. The guards would stay outside. Someone would always be with you.”

“Ugh. I hate being watched all the time.” He finally sat the beaker down, leaning against the table and frowning.

“It’s more for you than for them. It’s harder to be falsely accused if there’s always a witness.” Adeline took Varian’s hand in her own and squeezed it. “I know it’s kind of a slim chance, but it is a chance.” He sighed and smiled at her, squeezing her hand in return.

“Yeah. You’re right. Besides, I’m an alchemist. Slim chances are what I work with best.” At that, they both started laughing.

“Come on. We can get some rest in the spare room. We’ve been up for hours.” Not yet letting go of his hand, the smaller girl pulled him through a side door and into a sleeping chamber. Two beds had been pressed against either wall, with a small table between them and a desk by the door. Ruddiger ran in after them, quickly climbing onto one of the beds and curling up on the pillow. Adeline gave him a warm smile. “Seems like someone’s claimed that bed for you.”

“He’s claimed it for someone.” Varian sat on the edge of the bed, pulling off his long black gloves and sitting them to the side. “I meant to ask, what’s with the old goggles? They look like the magnification was added by hand years ago. Does the king not give his royal inventor equipment or something?” She reached up to run a hand fondly over the goggles.

“They were my dad’s, actually. He gave them to me years ago, when I was old enough to help him with watch repairs and stuff.” Varian’s eyes went wide at the mention of her father, and he quickly turned away.

“Oh. Sorry, then.” He curled up next to Ruddiger on the bed, his knees tucked up and his back to her. Adeline frowned and sat on the end of his bed. He normally got quiet when her parents were mentioned, and she could assume why, but something about their earlier conversation made her want to push a little further.

“Varian, I don’t mind you bringing them up. You know that, right?” He didn’t respond, his back still to her. She waited patiently, knowing from experience that sometimes moments of silence could prompt him to speak.

“I don’t get it,” He whispered, his body incredibly still, “How can you stand to talk to me?” She knew this conversation was coming. Of course, it was. After three years, it was bound to come up sooner rather than later.

“Because after spending three years talking to you, I don’t see the boy who attacked Old Corona. Not really. I see someone who’s smart and clever. Someone who’s been hurt and scared. Someone who’s incredibly compassionate and observant. I see my friend. And logically, I shouldn’t. I know that. But sometimes emotion is stronger than logic.” She placed a hand on his leg, feeling him shift beside her on the bed. “Varian, I won’t condemn you for what you did. And neither would my parents.” She gently shoved his shoulder. “Now scoot over.” He turned his head to give her a confused stare but complied. She slid into bed next to him with her back against the headboard and pulled his head onto her lap.

“You don’t have to-”

“Hush. You look like you haven’t slept in days. I don’t wanna hear it.” Adeline ran her fingers through his black hair, watching as his eyes started to close.

#weekly writing #oc #original character #adeline #varian #varian x oc #tangled #tangled the series #what even is science #I'm just making it up at this point #the closest thing to a science class I took in college was physics #and you know I didn't understand any of that

10 notes · View notes

dracoqueen22 · 4 years

Text

[CR] A Dash of Insight

Title: A Dash of Insight Universe: Critical Role, Campaign Two, Close to Home series, Somewhere Around Episode 62 Characters: Caleb Widogast/Caduceus Clay Rating: K+ Description: In which an exchange of favors leads Caleb to come to a sudden epiphany about Caduceus Clay. For @claylebweek

Xhorhas was not home. It could not be home. Then again, Caleb Widogast did not have a home, did he? Because Caleb Widogast did not, technically, exist. Bren Ermendrud thought of the Zemni Fields as home, but Bren no longer existed either, so why not could Caleb Widogast make Xhorhas his home?

He was a human in a foreign land, a land which did not like humans. Could he make this his home? No, no. The Empire, it was still home. Rotten to the core as it was, he could fix that. He knew he could. He just needed more. Time. Knowledge. Opportunity. All of it. For now, Xhorhas would do. It would help. There were answers here. Access. The Shadowhand, Essek, he could teach Caleb many things. He could be used. This was good. This was very good. He’d made the right choice. Caleb fully believed that. As he wandered through the room he’d picked for his own, a combination library and research room, he had to believe he’d made the right choice. He hadn’t abandoned Bren or the Empire. He hadn’t abandoned the idea of home. He was still working toward that end. This was a step on the path. This was-- His door opened with a quiet creak. Caleb looked up from the bookshelf just as Caduceus poked his head inside, scanning the interior before finding Caleb with ease. He offered a smile and slipped within, bringing with him the calm he seemed to radiate. “This is a nice room,” he said, looking around, ears twitching as he surveyed with that outstanding and unusual perception of his. “You’ve really made it your own, Mr. Caleb.” “Just like you made the tower yours with that tree, eh?” Caleb replied, drawing all the tendrils of himself inward, until he was Caleb again, because Caleb he knew best. "Xhorhas might not be home, but that doesn't mean we can't make it one, since we might be here a while," Caduceus said with his usual infinite wisdom which somehow seemed to mirror and then echo some of Caleb’s earlier thoughts. That was when Caleb noticed the book, tucked under Caduceus' arm. He didn't immediately recognize the spine as it wasn't the one they read during their lessons. "I suppose you are right," Caleb said. "There's no reason we can't be comfortable while we decide our next move. I think we could all use a little bit of downtime." Caduceus nodded, his gaze lingering on the books Caleb had already collected and the paraphernalia he'd found. With time, he might have a genuine library. It was a nice thought. "You know, I always found that the kinds of things that make a home are the people living in it," Caduceus said, and he offered Caleb a smile, gesturing with the book in his hand. "Sharing meals, you know." Caleb tilted his head. "Uh, ja. That is true. We are a family, and this is our home." Caduceus lifted the book so Caleb could see the cover, and now the title. It was a cookbook, though it seemed to be Nicodranian based. "I thought, since you're so patient to teach me a few things, I might return the favor. Want to help with dinner?" "You are asking me to... cook with you?" Caleb asked, uncertain if he'd heard correctly, but not sure there was any other way to interpret the offer. "If you want. You said you weren't very good at it, and I wasn't very good at reading before you helped me, so it seemed like the thing to offer," Caduceus said, and he tucked the book back under his arm. Caleb blinked. "I mean, if you're busy, that's fine," Caduceus added. "I... sure. I mean, no. No, I'm not busy." He should be busy. Caleb had many more important things to do than spend time in the kitchen, soaking up Caduceus' gentle energy, and learning how to cook. He glanced at his books, at the papers littering his desk and the ink beside it, waiting for him to get to work. He thought about the definition of home and family, and how one could easily change their identities. "What did you have in mind?" Caleb asked. He swept off his overcoat, hung it on the back of his chair, and followed Caduceus out of the room. "Well, Jester gave me this cookbook a while back, and we haven't really been anywhere I could make use of it until now," Caduceus said as they headed toward the kitchen, the distant noise of Yasha and Beau sparring in the training room catching Caleb's brief attention. Nott -- or Veth -- was occupied with Yeza, and Caleb did not fault her that. He had no idea what Fjord and Jester were up to. Shopping, last he checked in, he thought. Jester had taken to the idea of furnishing their new home with utter glee, and had easily coaxed Fjord into being an extra pair of arms and eyes to help her. "Sounds good," Caleb said. The kitchen was warm and bright from numerous torches as though Caduceus wanted desperately to make it feel like the sun shone through the windows. It smelled of herbs and spices, and it radiated welcome and comfort, as if it had already absorbed whatever aura Caduceus emitted, so it could reflect that calm back into the world. Caduceus handed Caleb the book. "Why don't you pick something for us to make?" he suggested as he plucked an apron off the wall -- the very same one he'd used on the Balleater -- and tied it around his waist. Caleb set the cookbook on the counter and paged through it, looking for something of interest. He almost skimmed too quickly, and had to backtrack, when something caught his eye. "What about the spatzle," he suggested as fond memories choked at the back of his throat, and he had to take a moment. "It has a mushroom sauce. Or would that be too difficult?" "Hmm." Caduceus leaned over him, peering at the page. He was warm against Caleb's back, and he smelled like he'd been digging in his rooftop garden. "Oh. We could do this. Sure." Caduceus reached around him and picked up the book, placing it in a nearby stand to make it easier to see. Caleb's back felt a little colder. Which was ridiculous. So he shook himself and focused on rolling his sleeves to his elbows. He should probably wash his hands. He'd been organizing his components earlier, and there was phosphorus under his fingernails. "It's not too much?" Caleb asked. "It's perfect, Mr. Caleb. It'll be warm and filling, easy enough for beginners, and I think everyone will like it." Caduceus smiled at him as he pulled his own hair up into a messy bun at the top of his head. "Good choice." "What should I do then?" Caleb moved to the basin and washed his hands, making sure to scrub under his fingernails like his mother had taught him. Cookware clattered as Caduceus produced pots and cutting boards and utensils from all corners of the kitchen. He'd made himself at home here as much as Caleb had made the research room his. "I like to start with gathering all of the ingredients l need," Caduceus said as he started to arrange the cookware. "I've got the equipment if you want to get the rest." "Sure. I can do that." It was easy and companionable, how they moved around each other. Caleb read the ingredients off the recipe and gathered them with no trouble -- Caduceus had taken the time to label their various containers and barrels. The instructions were clear, but easier to understand as Caduceus explained the importance of mixing items separately, managing the heat of the cooking fire, and letting Caleb do as much of the work himself as possible. It reminded him of home. Of hanging on his mother's apronstrings as they baked together, or sitting on his father's knee as they plucked and cleaned a chicken. He did not view Caduceus as a parent, of course not, but the firbolg gave off such an aura of peace, it was hard not to associate the two things, his past and his present colliding and giving him a fierce ache of nostalgia and longing. "It takes patience," Caduceus rumbled as he instructed Caleb on dropping the dough into the pot of bubbling water, small strip by small strip. "But I don't think you have a problem with that." "I am a very patient man," Caleb said, and scraped another inch of the batter into the bubbling water. His skin tingled when Caduceus squeezed him on the shoulder before going back to stirring the mushroom sauce to go over the noodles, the rich liquid wafting a delicious, familiar odor. Caleb’s heart ached a little more. "You would have liked Corin," Caduceus said as he focused on stirring, everything about him radiating comfort and ease. "They are a thinker, too. Always thinking. It could be hard to get them out of their head sometimes." "Maybe one day we'll meet them." "It is a big world, Mr. Caleb. But if the Wildmother means for us to meet, we will," Caduceus said, and there was enough conviction in his voice to make Caleb a little envious. He had not been lying when he told Yussa he had faith in nothing save their little group. Caleb did not trust in a higher power. He did not trust those of higher station or those who declared themselves leaders of any kind. He'd had that kind of faith burned out of him. But he believed in people. Specifically, these seven people (because Mollymauk was dead, he was not gone, and Caleb refused to discount the mark Mollymauk had left on his life). "Family is... is a good thing," Caleb said quietly. He worked his jaw. "My mother, she could not cook very well, but this... this was a bit of her specialty. I never did learn her secret." "Was?" Caduceus echoed, one ear tilting toward him. Caleb swallowed over a lump in his throat. No, this was too painful. It was enough to let himself pick the recipe. No more, no less. "Ja. She is dead. She and my father." He pulled in a heavy breath and lifted his chin toward the counter. "Will you hand me that? I need to scoop these out." It made for a wonderful change of topic. They went back to managing their meal, Caleb studiously forming the noodle clumps while Caduceus finished off the sauce and ensured each boiled noodle was nice and browned in the skillet. They dished a very small portion off to the side for tasting, and Caleb first took a cautious sniff. It smelled edible, very much like what his mother used to make, and when he gave it a tentative lick, the flavor spilled across his tongue, savory and familiar. The dumplings were perfect; the sauce even better. It wasn't exactly his mother's spatzle, but it was close enough. Caduceus, meanwhile, had simply plopped the entire bite into his mouth. His eyebrows crawled upward as he considered before he burst into a large, pleased grin. "This is delicious," he said. "Your mother would be proud." Caleb's heart flipflopped in his chest. Warmth spread all throughout his body. Oh. Oh, no. "I... thank you, Mr. Clay," Caleb said, and hoped his voice didn't stutter, hoped wiping off his hands hid the subtle tremble in his fingers. His ears burned; his face did, too. And Caduceus was far too perceptive not to notice. Damn him. "It's only because I had such a good teacher," Caleb said, struggling to keep his voice even as the epiphany washed over him. Caduceus chuckled and gently bumped Caleb with a shoulder, though it was more his elbow given their height difference. "I'm returning the favor. I have a good teacher in you, too." "I-I suppose," Caleb said, his mouth abruptly dry, and his heart thudding so fast he felt it pulsing in his ears. "I should go get everyone for dinner, ja?" He backed away, untucking the towel from his shoulder to toss it onto the counter. "I think I can hear Beau's stomach growling from here." "Good idea. I'll go ahead and dish this up," Caduceus said. And Caleb? Caleb fled. No, no, no. This was not good. He paused in the hallway to catch his breath, his face afire, his fingers trembling. Heat throbbed through his body in a steady wave, threatening to overfill him with affection. He closed his eyes and drew in slow, steadying breaths, trying to will away the emotion bubbling up inside him. When had it started? He didn't know. It had come upon him gradually, like the slow creep of ivy over an old, abandoned house. It was pretty and decorative at first, until one realized it was too deeply rooted to remove. It nestled into every crack, every seam, and eventually, it might do untold damage, but for now, it was a pretty thing. A pretty thing Caleb knew better than to cultivate. "You fool," he muttered to himself. "You utter fool." This was no time to be falling for anyone, much less anyone in the Mighty Nein, and even lesser, someone as good as Caduceus Clay.

***

Comments and reblogs and squee in the tags are absolutely welcome, if you feel so inclined. Thank you!

#ClayLeb #caduceus clay #Caleb widogast #caleb widogast/caduceus clay #caduceus clay/caleb widogast #clayleb week 2019 #draco watches critical role #draco writes critical role #close to home series

15 notes · View notes

thepatchworkcrow · 5 years

Text

Witchcraft Asks #1-105

So, just for @dearpenumbra and because I’m wide awake and bored and want to answer them: Here is the list of the 105 witchcraft questions I just finished answering. I answered one each day but feel free to answer them all at once or however you want to do it. Tag your it!

1. Are you solitary or in a coven? I am technically a solitary, though I have friends with whom I occasionally celebrate the sabbats and do other witchy things with.

2. Do you consider yourself Wiccan, Pagan, witch, or other? I use ‘Pagan’, ‘witch’, and ‘Druid’ to describe myself. My path of Druidry is inherently pagan because of its reverence of the earth and all life, and it contains practices that are part of witchcraft.

3. What is your zodiac sign? I am a Cancer!

4. Do you have a Patron God/dess? I do, for sake of Tumblr, I call them The Hunter and The Lady of the Lantern. They’re deities I’ve not found in any mythology- sort of my own unique perspective / interaction with the divine forces of the universe, and so I keep the names I call to them in ritual private.

5. Do you work with a Pantheon? I do work with other deities beyond my patron god and goddess. A lot of them are from the various Celtic pantheons and include: Brighid, Gofannon the Smith, Cerridwen, Mannanan Mac Lir, and Gwyn ap Nudd.

6. Do you use tarot, palmistry, or any other kind of divination? I read tarot, runes, and ogham. I own an agate scrying mirror, but it’s very finnicky and I’d love to learn palmistry some day.

7. What are some of your favorite herbs to use in your practice? (if any) I use sage for cleansing, mugwort for a couple of blends of incense for divination, and lavender to cleansing, peace, intuition, etc.

8. How would you define your craft? It’s a path of Druidry dedicated to the Wylde Hunt.

9. Do you curse? If not, do you accept others who do? I have cursed- only in extreme situations, and the curse I used was aimed more at making the target realize how negative and toxic the bullshit they’ve been spewing/causing is. Sort of a “You’re going to realize the full horror of your actions” kind of a thing.

10. How long have you been practicing? The summer solstice will mark my 13th year.

11. Do you currently or have you ever had any familiars? I have familiar spirits: a black dog that goes by the name Yew, and a raven with a gold stripe on its beak named Gildenbeck. I’ve never had a familiar in the sense of a pet who does witchy stuff with me though.

12. Do you believe in Karma or Reincarnation? I believe in reincarnation and that our cations in one life affect the next. I’ve done a past life regression before, but that’s a story for a post that isn’t QUITE this long.

13. Do you have a magical name? I used to. I’ve got through a number of them over the years, changing them out as I see fit. My most recent one was actually the name I started this blog under: Brenna Adaira, but I’ve since outgrown it, and don’t really feel the need for one.

14. Are you “out of the broom closet”? Yes. I have been from the very beginning.

15. What was the last spell you performed? Shit. I don’t even remember. I’m not super big on spells. Anything more complex than carving a candle and charging it with intention to leave burn on my altar is usually not something I bother with.

16. Would you consider yourself knowledgeable? This is a silly question. As I’ve been practicing 13 years, and as someone with a bachelor’s degree, I’d say yes. I am knowledgeable about a number of things. However, I recognize there are many things I’m not knowledgeable about and there is always room for growth and learning.

17. Do you write your own spells? Since they’re very slapdash? Yes. They get written as I’m throwing spell components together to just DO THE THING.

18. Do you have a book of shadows? If so, how is it written and/or set up? I have recently started compiling a more formal grimoire of my path and all of its integral components. My working book of shadows however is always a sketchbook that gets carried around with me literally everywhere. It’s got drawings, scribbled poetry, journal entries, cut and pasted pictures, ritual outlines, musings, research notes, etc. and it’s all pretty out of order and chaotic. But I love the freedom of not having to be too careful with how I structure things and just let everything happen organically.

19. Do you worship nature? I do not worship nature. I honor the forces of nature; I treat them with respect and work to do my best to live in harmony with them. We are part of nature, not separate beings.

20. What is your favorite gemstone? Oof. This is a tough one. Moss Agate or Moonstone... but also Citrine and Opal. xD

21. Do you use feathers, claws, fur, pelt, skeletons/bones, or any other animal body part for magical work? I have a pheasant wing fan I use for smoke cleansing. I also have a small set of antlers that I’m still meaning to make into a proper headdress for ritual wear. Right now, they sit with my statute of The Hunter and the rest of my Wylde Hunt stuff.

22. Do you have an altar? Usually, yes. At the moment I don’t because I’ve been sort of in-transit for months. I’m moving back home at the end of the week though, and setting up an altar is the FIRST thing I intend to do.

23. What is your preferred element? Air. I love wind, stars, storms, gentle breezes through the forest, music, singing, the power of words.

24. Do you consider yourself an Alchemist? Not even in the slightest. XD

25. Are you any other type of magical practitioner besides a witch? Already answered above, but I’m a Druid! ^_^

26. What got you interested in witchcraft? I answered this in my previous post.

27. Have you ever performed a spell or ritual with the company of anyone who was not a witch? Yes! We used to frequently invite non-pagan friends to celebrate sabbats with us. One year, we actually erected a Maypole in my backyard and did a maypole dance.

28. Have you ever used ouija? Nope, and I would never. I don’t need it to speak with my guides, I don’t wanna poke at the dead, and I don’t trust them as reliable tools.

29. Do you consider yourself a psychic? I have strong intuition, but I wouldn’t call myself a psychic.

30. Do you have a spirit guide? If so, what is it? I have a couple, but the main one appears to me as a sort of elven / druidic entity (kinda Tolkien elf-ish with the blonde hair and all that). He goes by the name of Brannan and has been sort of my Druid guide both before and during my OBOD studies.

31. What is something you wish someone had told you when you first started? I wish someone had taught me really basic grounding and centering exercises and energy work first. Instead, I jumped right into gods and spells and rituals and all sorts of silliness early on in my path.

32. Do you celebrate the Sabbats? If so which one is your favorite? I haven’t this past year or so because I’ve been trying to get my bearings post-college again. But my favorite is Midsummer. It’s closest to my birthday, marks the anniversary of my dedication to studying witchcraft, and is just always a super heightened time for me spiritually speaking.

33. Would you ever teach witchcraft to your children? Yes. There’s another, longer blog post coming about my thoughts on this, but the short version of it is that I would rather give them some manner of religious context and collection of traditions and heritage than leave them completely on their own to consider the big universal questions religion is supposed to answer.

34. Do you meditate? Not nearly as often as I would like, but at least a couple of times a month.

35. What is your favorite season? Autumn. I love the gloom and the smell of the leaves, and the rain and how windy it gets, and the colors, and of course all of the things like pumpkin spice and Halloween. It’s another time of deep spiritual work for me. This is when the Wylde Hunt rides, and I mark my progress on my path in devotion to them.

36. What is your favorite type of magick to preform? I don’t actually like doing magick other than charging and burning candles. I’m sort of a lazy witch and usually find it more necessary to do inner work to get through a problem than to try and effect change in the world around me.

37. How do you incorporate your spirituality into your daily life? I take actions that align with my spiritual goals: living in harmony with the natural world, creating beautiful things, never stopping my own growth and learning, and compassion for others. I recycle where I can, try to reduce waste and reuse things. I take walks in nature and spend time in the woods. I stay informed so I can vote in ways that put people in power who care about our world. I take time to notice beauty in small places: a bird flying over head, stars in the winter sky, the way the sun is coming in through a window. When all of life is sacred, the spiritual path is not separate from the rest of your life. It becomes the lens through which you frame your life.

38. What is your favorite witchy movie? If I had to choose.... damn. I really can’t. The triad of Hocus Pocus, The Craft, and Practical Magic kinda take that place. I love them all in different ways.

39. What is your favorite witchy book, both fiction and non-fiction. Why? My favorite witchy books... Non-fiction: Living Druidry by Emma Restall-Orr, because it’s a look at Druidry through a Druid’s eyes. It introduces Druid concepts without the formal textbook layout, and I love reading about her experiences. Fiction: The Tree Shepherd’s Daughter and the associated series by Gillian Summers because who wouldn’t love a book about an elf who talks to trees whose day job to hide among humans is to make furniture to sell at Renaissance Festivals? Like... It’s just good, okay?

40. What is the first spell you ever preformed? Successful or not. This got answered in my last post.

41. What’s the craziest witchcraft-related thing that’s happened to you? And so did this one!

42. What is your favourite type of candle to use? I typically use those cheap chime candles or tealights. They burn down quickly and are easy to get ahold of.

43. What is your favorite witchy tool? I would have to say my drum. I love love love love raising energy with it or doing trance work while drumming.

44. Do you or have you ever made your own witchy tools? All of my wands have been handmade and my altar statues are all sculpted by hand. My ogham staves are handmade, and I’ve made a set of runes in the past, but they weren’t fond of me. XD

45. Have you ever worked with any magical creatures such as the fea or spirits? Ohhhh yes. Lots! The Wylde Hunt is one such example, but I’ve also worked with goblins and other various fae.

46. Do you practice color magic? I use color associations loosely, but don’t adhere to them too much.

47. Do you or have you ever had a witchy teacher or mentor of any kind? I did, sort of. My mom’s best friend was the one who bought me my first tarot deck, taught me how to read, etc. She gave me witchy homework now and then, but it wasn’t really a formal mentorship. She’s like another mother to me though, and I love her lots. <3

48. What is your preferred way of shopping for witchcraft supplies? Unfortunately, my preferred way is no longer possible. My local shop closed down in Feb of 2017 and I have been super sad ever since. I’m still trying to find a suitable alternative.

49. Do you believe in predestination or fate? I believe that we have free will and that the Universe sort of fills in the gaps. I think somethings are sort of “meant” to happen, but I don’t think everything is set in stone.

50. What do you do to reconnect when you are feeling out of touch with your practice? I light candles at my altar and just open myself to the energies, or I go on a walk with my friend, Mark. We always get into super deep conversations that get me back in the vibe.

51. Have you ever had any supernatural experiences? I could fill an ENTIRE post just on this alone, but yes. Plenty.

52. What is your biggest witchy pet peeve? Answered!

53. Do you like incense? If so what’s your favorite scent? I love incense! I tend to burn a lot of Dragon’s Blood, though I’ve recently discovered one called Mountain Heather that I am ALSO in love with.

54. Do you keep a dream journal of any kind? I keep weirdly vivid dreams in the notepad function on my phone. It’s usually right near my pillow and I just tap what I remember in there and try to go back to sleep.

55. What has been your biggest witchcraft disaster? Man, I can’t really think of a time things went horribly wrong to be honest.

56. What has been your biggest witchcraft success? Maintaining my practice and developing it into something uniquely my own.

57. What in your practice do you do that you may feel silly or embarrassed about? I know some people would say having spirit guides and such is silly. There are others who would say that energy work and psychic vampirism and the like are kinda woo-y and weird too.

58. Do you believe that you can be an atheist, Christian, Muslim or some other faith and still be a witch too? Anyone from any religion can be a witch. Witchcraft is a practice, not a religious path. Anyone can learn to raise and manipulate energy regardless of which deity they do/n’t worship.

59. Do you ever feel insecure, unsure or even scared of spell work? I just don’t usually feel a need for it. It’s usually able to be solved by mundane means or by doing inner personal work.

60. Do you ever hold yourself to a standard in your witchcraft that you feel you may never obtain? Don’t we all have perfectly aesthetic rituals that leave us feeling profound as a standard which we don’t ever quite meet? Aren’t we all secretly pining for Tumblr/Instagram worthy altars?

61. What is something witch related that you want right now? I actually really want to get a Tarokka deck, which is a tarot-esque oracle used in the D&D Curse of Strahd campaign. I want them for the campaign, but also to use for actual divination because it sounds like fun to try.

62. What is your rune of choice? I’m very partial to Kenaz (light, illumination, guidance), and Laguz (movement, water travel, magic, intuition).

63. What is your tarot card of choice? The 8 of Cups, The Star, and the 3 of Swords are all sort of cards I look at to determine if I’ll love or hate a deck.

64. Do you use essential oils? If so what is your favorite? I do use some, albeit sparingly. I’m rather fond of patchouli, sage, and a heather one I found.

65. Have you ever taken any kind of witchcraft or pagan courses? I’m currently wrapping up the Order of Bards Ovates and Druids’ Bardic Grade Course.

66. Do you wear pagan jewelry in public? Right now, my everyday necklace is a nine-pointed star which is supposed to represent the 9 sisters of Avalon, of whom Morgan le Fay was one.

67. Have you ever been discriminated against because of your faith or being a witch? Yes. Once, in early high school by a teacher. And once in college by some preppy sorority girl who wandered over to the LGBT clubs’ table at a Campus Life event looking to cause an argument.

68. Do you read or subscribe to any pagan magazines? Not magazines, but I follow a number of blogs both on Tumblr, Patheos, and Wordpress.

69. Do you think it’s important to know the history of paganism and witchcraft? Yes. Absolutely. The Burning Times weren’t about real witches. Modern paganism is not ancient paganism, and the context of myth, traditional practices, etc. are important.

70. What are your favorite things about being a witch? The language and tools I have with which to describe my experiences and think about and interact with the rest of the universe.

71. What are your least favorite things about being a witch? Being a conscious being and co-creator with spirit is freaking hard, yo.

72. Do you listen to any pagan music? If so who is your favorite singer/band? My absolute fave is Damh the Bard, but also give S.J. Tucker and OMNIA a listen. <3

73. Do you celebrate the Esbbats? If so, how? I used to do Dark Moon tea and meditation time with the Dark Goddess. Usually if I do something for any of the moon phases it’s sort of spur of the moment these days.

74. Do you ever work skyclad? I don’t, because I currently lack private space to do so.

75. Do you think witchcraft has improved your life? If so, how? Well, I am an empowered being with knowledge and love of the Universe and the divine connections between us all. I’m also equipped with various techniques for performing inner transformative work as well as affecting change in the world around me. What’s not to love?

76. Where do you draw inspiration from for your practice? My practice is a lot of “Solitary Wicca” meets OBOD druidry, meets a sort of Dragonheart ‘knights of the Old Code’ sort of feel. It’s about nature, creativity, and living honorably.

77. Do you believe in ‘fantasy’ creatures? (Unicorns, fairies, elves, gnomes, ghosts, etc) I do. I don’t believe they exist corporeally in this plane of existence though.

78. What’s your favorite sigil/symbol? I’m not sure I could pick one... but if I had to, I’d say the symbol for Awen.

79. Do you use blood magick in your practice? Why or why not? I’ve used blood in magic exactly twice. Once was in a dedication rite to The Hunter, and the other was to the Wylde Hunt. Both times it was blood from something like a paper cut or popped blister, whatever that was already available. I used it as a potent source of energy but also as a sympathetic tie to myself. Since I was dedicating myself to said entity, using it as a taglock made sense.

80. Could you ever be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t support your practice? Absolutely not. Thank you, next.

81. In what area or subject would you most like your craft to grow? I’m looking to pursue the OBOD’s further courses. I want to become a celebrant for the order and perform marriage, death, etc. rites for others within the order as well as those in the pagan community.

82. What’s your favorite candle scent? Do you use it in your practice? I love candles that smell like mulled spices or coffee or pumpkin. I don’t use them for magic, just for ambiance.

83. Do you have a pre-ritual ritual? (I.e. Something you do before rituals to prepare yourself for them). If so what is it? I ground and center before every ritual. Beyond that, I’m usually doing magic on the fly.

84. What real life witch most inspires your practice? Emma Restall-Orr, whom I’m not sure would identify as a witch. She’s technically a druid and author of various books and I love how gritty and honest and earthy what she shares is.

85. What is your favorite method of communicating with deity? I like to get somewhere quiet, and channel them through sort of automatic writing. I also frequently use visualization / meditation techniques to go to my sacred grove and speak with them there.

86. How do you like to organize all your witchy items and ingredients? What is this... organize you speak of? All spell components are in wee jars in a drawer. xD

87. Do you have any witches in your family that you know of? My mom was a practicing Wiccan when I was little, and my sister has interest in witchcraft.

88. How have you created your path? What is unique about it? Answered in my last post.

89. Do you feel you have any natural gifts or affinities (premonitions, hearing spirits, etc.) that led you toward the craft? If so what are they? I have a strange knack for vibing with plants/crystals/etc. and just knowing what they can be used for. I’ve also always had the ability to sort of see/hear things not there: spirits, fae, etc.

90. Do you believe you can initiate yourself or do you have to be initiated by another witch or coven? To be initiated implies you are entering into a group. The OBOD gives you the opportunity to initiate yourself if you aren’t close enough to a grove, but the point stands that it’s a ritual given to you by someone else. You can dedicate yourself to a specific path, but initiation implies you’re being included in something you once were not included in.

91. When you first started out in your path what was the first thing or things you bought? I’m pretty sure it was a new tarot deck, tbh. It’s been too long. I don’t remember.

92. What is the most spiritual or magickal place you’ve been? Answered in the last post: but Avebury, England.

93. What’s one piece of advice you’d give someone who is searching for their matron and patron deities? They aren’t necessary for a balanced and successful path. I know it can be weird not having a specific god/ddess but it’s really really really not necessary to find one right away to be able to have a successful practice.

94. What techniques do you use to ‘get in the zone’ for meditation? I dim the lights, drink some coffee or wine, get somewhere comfy, and put on some quiet music.

95. Did visualization come easily to you or did you have to practice at it? It used to come a lot more easily to me. I realized I was using it as sort of escapism and stopped, and have been building it back again.

96. Do you prefer day or night? Why? I prefer night. Everyone else is asleep and it gives me time and space to think and work on things without being disturbed.

97. What do you think is the best time and place to do spell work? The best time and place is when and where you need it most.

98. How did you feel when you cast your first circle? Did you stumble or did it go smoothly? We forgot to include a means of opening the circle in our first ritual’s notes. So... sort of a stumble.

99. Do you believe witchcraft gets easier with time and practice? Yes... and no. Because with time and practice, you come to find deeper things, and bigger truths. It builds upon itself.

100. Do you believe in many gods or one God with many faces? In my belief system, all gods are separate beings, but all a part of the Great Song of Creation that gives life to the universe.

101. Do you eat meat, eggs and dairy? I do! No restrictive diets here.

102. What is your favorite color and why? I can’t truthfully pick one. I’m fond of burgundy lately.

103. What is the one question you get asked most by non-practitioners or non-pagans? How do you usually respond? “I really like your necklace; what does that symbol mean?” To which I say “I got it at a renaissance festival; it’s supposed to represent the nine sisters of Morgen LeFay.” which seems to be an acceptable response.

104. Which of your five senses would you say is your strongest? Probably my sight.

105. What is a pagan or witchcraft rule that you preach but don’t practice? “Always cast a circle.” I recommend it for new folks, but I rarely ever actually cast one myself.

#about me #asks #questions #witchy questions

6 notes · View notes

cmhoughton · 6 years

Link

This interview by Karen (the Site Admin for Diana’s pages on the LitForum and previous CompuServe forum) is split up into two pages. It’s been ten years since she started her blog, so this interview celebrates that. However, since the pages took FOREVER to load I will spare everyone the frustration and post them both here.

However, since this is long, I will put it behind a cut:

In celebration of the 10th anniversary of Outlandish Observations, I'm very pleased to bring you my first-ever interview with Diana Gabaldon! Frankly, the idea of interviewing Diana Gabaldon was a little nervewracking for me at first, even though I've known her online since 2007 and we interact almost daily on TheLitForum.com (formerly the Compuserve Books and Writers Community). I've never interviewed anyone before, and it took me a while to decide what questions to ask. I did my best to come up with questions that are somewhat different from the usual things people always ask her. I'm just DELIGHTED with her answers, and I hope you'll enjoy them as much as I did! (The photo above is from my first meeting with Diana, at a book-signing in Maryland in 2009.) You've published a number of novellas and shorter pieces in the last few years. What do you see as the advantages of the shorter format, for you as a writer? They're shorter. <g> I.e., I can finish one in much less time than the four to five years it takes for one of the Big Books. Basically, it's a bit of a mental vacation to deal with something that's very interesting, but on a smaller scale--and offers a quicker gratification in completing it. The novellas offer me the opportunity to go explore the byways of minor characters and interesting storylines that lie outside either the temporal or the logistical reach of the Big Books. Do you still write in "pieces" when you're working on a novella or short story, or is it more of a straight-line process? I always write in disconnected pieces, no matter what I’m writing; that’s just how my mind works. (I had one interviewer recently pause for a long moment after I’d answered one of her questions--obviously thumbing down her list--and then say, “I had a lot more questions, but you seem to have answered most of them already, while you were answering the one I asked you.” I apologized <g>, and explained that I inherited my digressive story-telling from my father--he’d begin (usually at the dinner table) with a recollection of someone from his past, and would start telling you a story about them--but every second paragraph or so, something he’d said would start a digression that added social context or personal opinion or associated history or data on location, and then without missing a beat, the story would swerve back onto its main track--until the next digression a minute later.) As I always tell people, “There’s a reason why I write long books; it’s because I like digression.” You've made very effective use of Twitter and Facebook in recent years, and many fans are addicted to your #DailyLines. How has the rise of social media affected the way you interact with your readers and fans? With your busy schedule, where do you find the time? Well, social media has sort of grown up around me. Back in 1985, I first went “online” (a concept that really didn’t exist in the popular consciousness yet) when I got an assignment to write a software review for BYTE magazine, and they sent with the software a disk for a trial membership with CompuServe (aside from government services like DARPA, “online” in the mid-80’s basically consisted of three “information services”: Delphi, Genie and CompuServe), so I could poke into the support forum the software vendors had set up there, and mention it in my review. After writing the review, I had a few hours of free connect time left (in a time when you were charged $30 an hour for using CompuServe—at 300 baud, dial-up), and so I started poking around to see what else was available. I stumbled into the CompuServe Literary Forum. This was not (as people sometimes assume) a writer’s group. It was a group of people who liked books. There were a few writers there, of course, both established and aspiring, but the main focus was simply on books: reading, impact, thinking in response to reading--and it was also just a fertile ground in which enormous, digressive and fascinating conversations could flourish (there was one truly remarkable conversation that became known as “the Great Dildo Thread,” that went on for months…). Anyway, that was where social media (which didn’t exist as a concept yet, though plainly it existed in fact) and I met. The next step was my website, established in 1994 (I think I was the first author to build a website for readers--and my eternal thanks to Rosana Madrid Gatti, who generously did the hard work of making and running the site; I sent her material and she’d post it for me (this was a looong time before WordPress and other blogging software made it possible for anybody to communicate directly with the world online). I did the website mostly in response to reader’s enthusiasm; I got a LOT of mail (regular letters) about the books, from people being complimentary, asking questions, taking issue with various aspects--but all of them wanted to know more: why did Claire do this, where did I find out about botanical medicine, did people really do that…and most particularly--when was the next book coming out. So the website was a means of answering reader questions--both for the readers who had asked those questions, and for the entertainment of other readers who perhaps hadn’t thought of those questions, but would be interested in the answers. The benefit of only having to type an answer once (many people naturally ask the same questions) was obvious--as was the benefit of being able to inform people of pub dates, book-signings, etc. So, knowing the benefits of such a channel, when other channels became available--AOL, for instance--I’d use them, at least briefly, and see whether they seemed helpful. Some were, some weren’t--I never bothered with MySpace, and in fact, it took some time for me to try Facebook (which I still use sparingly; I never go anywhere on Facebook other than my own page, and it’s what they call a “celebrity” page, which means that I don’t take “friend” requests. Nor, I’m afraid, can I read the private messages that people kindly leave me there--at the moment, the page has more than 700,000 members (or whatever you call regular visitors), and if only one percent of them send me messages…that’s 7,000 messages. There’s no way I can even read that many messages, let alone respond to them. Twitter also proved to be very useful; it provides instant access to a lot of people--and more valuable than that, it provides organic replication. If you post something interesting, many, many more people will see it, beyond the people who actually follow you. And it’s very good for making short-term announcements or asking urgent questions, because somewhere in the world, the person who can answer that question is awake and reading Twitter. <g> What's the most challenging, or frustrating, or difficult part of your role as consultant on the TV series? (I understand there are things you can't talk about, but can you comment on this in general?) Well, frustrations are of two types: 1) when a scriptwriter has done something that I think is not consistent with a character’s…er, character, and I can’t get them (“them” meaning not just the scriptwriter, but the production team in general) to change it, and 2) when they’ve shot something absolutely beautiful, in terms of acting, honesty, emotion, etc.--and then cut it out of the finished episode. What's the most fun part? The fun lies in seeing something remarkable evolve from a huge number of component parts, day by day by day. It’s like watching a forest grow in stop-motion time that speeds everything up. Would you be interested in writing another script for the TV show, after BEES is done? Yes, I would. It was a deeply interesting (if occasionally frustrating) experience. Script-writing is a very collaborative process, in which the script writer ultimately does not have complete control over the final product, which may have been rewritten several times by different people. That’s a very different experience from being a solitary god, as novelists are. <g> But it’s a fascinating experience, both in the consultation and writing (and revision and revision and revision…) and in the eventual final result: the filming. Filming is long, tedious, hard work--but very entertaining. As the OUTLANDER TV series approaches its fourth season, we're starting to see many more readers who've found your books as a result of the TV show. Aside from the effect on book sales (which must be considerable <g>), I'm interested to hear what you think about that. Do you find that people who found the TV show first tend to have different expectations, or different reactions to the books? People who’ve read the books first definitely have different reactions to the show <g>, but I don’t think the reverse is really true. I haven’t heard a lot of show-first people express any sense of shock or disapproval as to things happening in the books--they expect to see an expanded version of the story, with a lot more detail and more storylines, and that’s what they get. Many OUTLANDER fans, including myself, have re-read (or re-listened to) your books many, many times. Do you have a favorite author or authors whose books you re-read often, and if so, what is it about those books that makes them stand up well to re-reading? Yes, dozens. Right now, I’m re-reading all of Dorothy L. Sayers’s Lord Peter Wimsey novels, for probably the twentieth time. (I continue to enjoy them, but to be honest, I’m re-reading them now because I can put them down easily in order to work.) James Lee Burke would be another one, though I haven’t re-read his Dave Robicheaux novels as often as Sayers. And then there are Patrick O’Brian’s Aubrey/Maturin novels--I’ve read the series maybe three times, but listened to it on audio probably twenty times, at least--the reader, Patrick Tull, is fantastic, and the story always holds my interest while dog-walking or gardening. Like these, all the books I feel are worth re-reading depend on unique and engaging individuals. I like to spend time with these people (and on a lower level, I enjoy seeing just _how_ the author did what they did; knowing as much now as I do about the craft of writing, it’s hard to avoid seeing the techniques in use--a book that can suck me in sufficiently that I _don’t_ notice the engineering is definitely one I can re-read).

Part 2:

I'm not a writer of fiction, but I love it when Diana explains various writing techniques. So I thought it would be interesting to explore this particular one. I was astounded, and very grateful, that Diana replied in such detail! Be sure to click on the links about halfway through this post to read the examples from the text. *** SPOILER WARNING!! *** If you haven't read WRITTEN IN MY OWN HEART'S BLOOD (Book 8 of the OUTLANDER series), you may encounter spoilers below. I was listening recently to the section of MOHB that deals with the Battle of Monmouth. It must be quite a challenge to write a complex series of scenes like that, with so many moving parts and different characters involved. Are there specific techniques that you use in writing battle scenes in particular, to give a sense of immediacy or heighten the dramatic tension? Managing a complex situation in fiction comes down essentially to Point of View. You have to know whose head you’re in, and stay firmly there. Until you change to a different point-of-view character, that is… Who the point-of-view character is determines what kind of detail will be available to you, and guides the shape and flow of those periods of the text that belong to that specific character. For example (as you mention the Battle of Monmouth section of WRITTEN IN MY OWN HEART’S BLOOD), the first thing I considered was whose viewpoint(s) to use in depicting it. I’d read several accounts of the battle, including a very detailed step-by-step description provided by one of Osprey’s Men-at-War books, so I knew the general character of the battle: it was a huge military encounter, involving more than 10,000 troops on either side, multiple commanders, and a ragged, rolling terrain that didn’t accommodate the standard eighteenth-century military formations and positioning At All. (No one chose the ground on which to fight; that particular stretch of farmland was just where Washington’s troops caught up with General Clinton’s troops, who were retreating from Philadelphia with a large number of fleeing Loyalists (and their property) under the army’s protection.) It was also a very long battle, fought from slightly before daybreak until well after dark, on one of the hottest days known (temperatures were estimated--ex post facto--at over a hundred degrees during the hottest part of the day). And it was an indecisive battle: neither side “won”--the British withdrew with their dependents and baggage trains and retired toward New York (which is what they’d been doing when the Americans attacked), and the Americans staggered back to their camps to recover, tend the wounded, and bury their dead. The significance of the battle, though, was subtle but Very Important--the Americans didn’t lose. This discomfited the British extremely, and heartened the Americans to an equal degree, enabling Washington to pursue his campaign. OK, so we have a very complex mess to describe. Obviously, no one person could possibly see enough of the battle to have any idea how it was going, let alone what strategy was in use. So I knew from the start that I’d need more than one viewpoint character, and could then switch among them as needed to give their separate takes on what was happening to them, and the reader would get both the necessary information as to what was happening overall, and the sense of chaos and struggle that marked the day. Obviously, Jamie Fraser had to be one of those characters; he’s a central figure of the story, and he’s a trained and very experienced soldier. So I contrived a way for him to be in command of a sizable (though informal) company of militia during the battle. Militia companies were normally fairly small bands of thirty to fifty men, who signed up for short enlistments and returned to their farms or businesses when the enlistment period ran out, and a great many militia companies joined the American army just before this battle--not all of them were documented, and thus it was entirely plausible for the temporarily-appointed General Fraser to be in command of several. So, Jamie would naturally see combat, both personally and as a commander. He’d be in communication with other commanders, and would know the proposed strategy, as well as specific moving goals as the battle was going on. And he’d be interacting with the soldiers under his command and responding to emergencies. [NB: Notice, through these examples, the sort of details that each character is conscious of and how they respond to them.] Example #1 (Jamie in the cider orchard) Then, of course, I wanted Claire. Both because she’d never leave Jamie on a battlefield alone again, and because as a surgeon, she’d have a completely different view of the battle. She’d be handling the wounded who came off the field, in a series of medical procedures/emergencies, but would also have a general sense of the battle as a whole, gained from the things the wounded men told her while she was treating them. Example #2 (Claire tending the wounded at Tennent Church) But we can’t overlook the other side of the conflict. What’s going on, on the British side? Well, we have a choice of POV characters on that side: William, Lord John, and Hal. I used both William and Lord John (Lord John’s thread has been running through the whole book and the punch in the eye Jamie gave him at the beginning is affecting what happens to him throughout the battle and its aftermath). But while Jamie and Claire are carrying out fairly orthodox roles in the battle--a general in command/soldier on the field and a combat medic at a static aid station on the edge of the conflict--William and Lord John aren’t. William’s been relieved of duty and Lord John is essentially trying to stay alive long enough to reach the British lines. Both of them, in storytelling terms, can drop in or pass through just about any situation I need or want. They aren’t compelled to follow orders or fight through a set conflict; we get a revolving set of pictures of the British side of the conflict and its various personalities from them. And finally, there’s Ian Murray, Jamie’s nephew. He’s a scout for the American side, so is not fighting on the ground, but--like William and Lord John--can occur just about anywhere during the battle. And like William and Lord John, he’s fighting a personal battle (whereas Jamie and Claire are fighting the more usual kind of battle involving troops and military movements). So Jamie and Claire are providing a more or less structured view of things, while William, John and Ian are giving us the smaller, vivid glimpses that add both to the overall picture of the situation and to the encompassing sense of chaos. Or at least we hope that’s what happened… And to close this exegesis <g>--note that each character involved in this battle has his or her own arc within the battle: how they enter the battle, what happens to them, what decisions they make and what actions they take--and finally, how (and how altered) they emerge at the end of the fight. -------------------------------------------- Many thanks to Diana Gabaldon for taking the time for this very interesting interview! I really appreciate it.

It’s always interesting to read Diana’s comments on her own process, and I like what a fan of books she is.

#diana gabaldon #outlander #book quotes

20 notes · View notes

rixxy8173571m3w1p3 · 6 years

Text

Smile For All The Unwanted

Another Reader x Doofus Rick fic. This fic was written for those who feel worthless. We all feel that way sometimes, and I thought this would be a nice encouragement.

In this fic, the reader learns that everything matters, even the unwanted.

_______________

Every so often, when he found out that there would be a yard sale, Zeta-7 would ask you to join him. What one would find was the usual batch of junk, the kind of things people should just throw away. It didn’t take you long to know whether or not you would buy anything, but he would browse as though they were treasures, picking up each item which caught his attention. On this occasion, you wanted to question him, wondering why he had bought a whole table of broken electronics, a wobbly coffee table, and a rusted music box, but the soft, melancholic, paternal look he bestowed on them had quieted you.

These items which no longer held any meaning to other people, had meaning to him. It was this that made you decide to look around again, to see if you had missed out on any of those so called treasures. There was a set of figurines you thought might be nice, but you stopped in front of the pile of plushies. How had you missed this? Battered, and dirty, the stuffed dog had certainly seen better days, but you chose him.

Zeta-7 did happen to question your reasoning for buying the stuffed dog, and you told him that you knew it was yours.

______________

The world was spinning. Round and round you went, until you have had enough. You didn’t have a computer chair at your house, so when you saw the one in his office, you sat down, and spun around until you thought you were going to throw up. No you weren’t high, or drunk, but just a silly human who kept themselves easily entertained.

Zeta-7 chuckled from the doorway, and you paused, as though you were in trouble. You did warn him that you tended to wander about, and if left unsupervised, might hurt yourself. He asked if you would join him in the garage, for he had something to show you. Various paintings lined the walls of the hallway, their themes ranging from winter scenes to fantasy worlds, like the kind you’d see in shows like Star Trek. You almost hit your head on the English ivy while entering the garage, and were careful not to step on the pothos vine.

In the past, he warned you about the dangers of his garage, and of the items and chemicals he kept in there, so you avoided it. Oh, but he had so much cool stuff in there. You two stopped in front of his work bench, and on it sat the ornate box. It must have been another one of his gadgets, or a repair job. Still, it must have been important if he wanted to show you.

You asked what it was. It seemed this was the question he was waiting for you to ask. You swore there were stars in his eyes, this joy, why it made him look years younger. As he explained all the mechanical components, going through the process used, and what it was, you were taking photos of him to look at later. Rick didn’t seem to mind, but he paused in the middle of his explanation.

You put away your phone, apologizing, but not sorry to have a few more cute pics of him. With your permission, he took your hand and placed it upon the box. It was vibrating, as though it were alive. Together, you opened the box, a prerecorded greeting could be heard from the hidden speakers. Then, a small figure sprung out of the metal flower inside.

The figure looked like Zeta-7, from its chest cavity popped out a tiny stringed instrument. It’s glass eyes winked, and the song played, with a chip tune accompaniment. You gasped, this song, it was the one he played the day you met Zeta-7.

_______________

For years, you two had lived in the same town, in the same neighborhood, only houses away from each other. It was funny how you two seemed to miss each other, though Rick would later tell you it was because of his job. You had been carrying groceries, thinking of what you might have for dinner when you tripped. You cursed to yourself, and almost cried when you realized your doritos broke. Zeta-7 had been working in the garage at the time, and saw when you fell across the street.

Together, you two mourned over the loss of your precious doritos. After you brought your groceries to your place, he invited you for some tea. You were wary, you didn’t really know him, but he thought it would be a great way to get to know his neighbor. In the end, he brought over a cordless tea kettle, and you two drank your cheap green tea on your porch, talking about everything and nothing. You might have passed it off as nothing but company with a stranger, but what won you over was his little performance.

With his phone, he played the song on a ukulele app.

Smile, though your heart is aching

Smile, even though it’s breaking

When there are clouds in the sky

you’ll get by

If you smile through your fear and sorrow

Smile and maybe tomorrow

You’ll see the sun come shining through

for you….

The rest, was history.

___________________

Back inside the house, you two sipped on hot chocolate. In the corner of the living room, was a neat coffee table you hadn’t seen before. You kneeled beside it, and passed your hand over the mosaic tile. Underneath one of its legs was a book, missing its cover. You knew, this must of been one of his yard sale finds, but with a makeover. You asked why he didn’t fix the wobbly leg, he told you it gave it character, and that the book needed a friend.

Over and over you passed your hand over the table, strangely entranced by how cool it felt to the touch. It had been broken, but he made it right. Thinking back to the music box, it was the same old music box, but with a makeover, possibly using parts from the electronics. Resting your head on its surface, you found comfort in this knowledge. Zeta-7 saw the best in everything and everyone, even when you couldn’t see it yourself.

You sat there so long, that he joined you in admiration of the table. Why, you sighed, and he told you that he thought you needed a friend. No, you replied, you were talking about the knick knacks. Resting his head beside yours, he told you a fantastical story, one you that you didn’t think you could believe. He told you about his life, about the universe, and how there were other Ricks, but he was a fluke among their kind.

No, he was not an alien, but he had been to space. No, he was not a clone, but he knew how to create one. In his way, he explained as one would with a child this information, which could one day put you in harm’s way. Like the items which he had bought, what others considered garbage, useless, and unwanted, he thought of himself like them. In his home, they became like kin, and he’d find a way for them to be happy just like he strived to be.

Foolish it was to personify the lifeless, items which could never love him back, but they were his, and he gave them a home. Like his plants, they were his friends, and though he knew better, they remained so. You knew that he was different, and you found that at the end of his story, it didn’t matter. Zeta-7 was himself, he was his own person, and no clone, no alien, or creature could say otherwise. Above a whisper, he asked if you were disappointed.

No, you smiled, because you had chosen him. Just like he had chosen to see the good in everything, even if it meant nothing, he saw something in you, and you saw it in him. With his permission you laced his hand, and told him about the stuffed dog you had bought. After you had taken it home, you fixed him up. Though he would always look a little worn, it’s story wasn’t over.

Rick sighed, giving your hand a squeeze. Your kindred spirit, he was too pure for this universe. Something about you must have been good if he wanted you. Out of everyone in the universe, this silly old man, who loved his plants, crafts, and ukulele, wanted you. You hummed, a giggle escaping you when he told you that you looked pretty at this angle. You asked if he would show you the music box again, and he jumped up and ran for it.

Funny, he moved like running was something he was used to doing. Reluctant, you moved away from that little table, but you were sure that you’d be together soon.

__________

Your hot chocolate wasn’t so hot anymore, so you popped it in the microwave. You wondered what was taking him so long, and feeling a little hungry, popped some popcorn. Considering his sweet tooth, you dressed it up with toppings. Another thing you two shared was your love of toppings. Like, if you two ordered a pizza, you’d want as many as they are willing to put on, and the funnyman that he was would ask for a larger pizza just so that you two could have even more toppings.

With your bowl of buttery, crunchy goodness, you found that sweet spot on the couch, and waited. After twenty minutes, you left the empty bowl in the sink and wandered around, poking things you liked. You knocked on the garage door, and entered. He was tinkering with something, and froze when you laughed. Zeta-7 told you he was inspired to create a device, but it’s purpose was a surprise.

You sighed, knowing what would be best to do. You told him you were going to go home, and his hands stopped. He didn’t want you to go, he liked having you around, having someone to ask questions, to interrupt the silence which seemed to follow him. And you, you didn’t want to distract him, so you told him it would be best if you went home. Zeta-7 offered to walk to walk you to your home, but it was alright.

Sometimes he didn’t understand, and you had to choose your words carefully. There was no need to be desperate, to constantly please, and while it made you happy, it hurt you to see him so anxious. You told him that you loved it when he was himself, even like this, being the man who adored science as much as he loved everything else that he did. You turned to go, but he asked if you could wait a moment. Removing his goggles and gloves, he stood, making his way to where you were.

If you allowed him, he would go entertain you, then come back to finish the job after you left. Yet, if you let him go, he could finish the job, but feel guilty, and anxious over what caused you to go. You told him to choose what he wanted to do. You didn’t want him to feel guilty, and you didn’t want to stand in the way of his work, and whatever he chose, you’d respect his decision. You, he said, he wanted to be with you.

Be it here in the garage, or in the house, if you were around, he’d be able to relax a little. So you stayed, even for a little while longer. You asked questions when appropriate, handed him tools if they were out of his reach, and flirted when he was doing calculations, causing him to drop his pencil. When he was satisfied, he stopped tinkering, and apologized if it was boring. If watching him mutter to himself, blissful, with those gentle hands, carefully piecing together a device that did who-knows-what was boring, then you didn’t deserve him.

What had he done for you to want him he asked. How was it possible, that anything or anyone could like him, when he was so himself. You asked for his permission, his reply firm, but doubtful as to why you’d want to touch him. Pulling your chair close, your knees touched his.Intertwining your hands, you kissed them, and you colored him a picture with words.

As a writer, you knew a great deal of words which could flatter or please, but sincerity in the dearest form would be enough. You pointed out that he was an elysian creature, that his creativity, and how his capable hands created works of peace and love. Combing your fingers through his hair, you described his intelligent, orphic, beautiful mind. And while he was not young, he had varedity, and how his thoughts communicated with his body, and how his body, expressed itself so honestly, that you were surprised the whole world hadn’t fallen in love with him. You weren’t old enough, creative enough, or intelligent to describe him completely, for many of his virtues were ineffable.

If one were to trace those invisible qualities, they would lose themselves in a universe with so many stars, they would die before they could count them all. Zeta-7 wasn’t great, but unforgettable. You told him to stop you if he was uncomfortable, but he was contemplative. You thought you said too much and pulled away, but his grip was strong, and he told you he wished to know the rest.

You told him he could not fix you, that these feelings of yours weren’t broken, but designed, and with his actions, he painted you splendor. In his ear, you whispered every way he drove you wild, and how it was dangerous for him to be around someone like you, since you were at a constant state of wanting to kiss him. Then you pulled away a little, and sighed, telling him because you were only human, you would kiss him if you didn’t govern yourself. And while he was attractive to you, it was only because his soul was so beautiful. Wrapping your arms around him, you kissed him softly, telling him you should go.

Yet, not before he gave you the ornate box. You couldn’t believe that it was for you, you didn’t even feel like you deserved it, but he wanted you to have it. Why, you asked him, why did he make the music box for you. As though it weren’t already obvious, he chuckled. Being your neighbor, he had seen you over the years, was curious, but afraid to say anything. Rick suspected you were quite a character, and that when you two finally met, all he wanted was to know you, and see you smile back.

#doofus rick #doofus rick x reader #j19z7 #rick j19z7 #j19ζ7 #rick j-19-zeta-7 #j-19-zeta-7 #j19zeta7 #rick and morty fanfic #my writing #my fanfic #my fanfic stuff #my work #rick x reader #rick sanchez x reader

28 notes · View notes

marjorieterry90 · 4 years

Text

Pheromone Cat Spray Sublime Diy Ideas

Your cat can be known if its your home and being generally happy to see if there are some of the smartest and most effective training devices that deter cats is so important for removing cat urine marks it will take their cat out is to begin to stay at home teeth care at home inexpensively from scraps of lumber and carpet gives your cat you need to use a shampoo meant exclusively for cats.Here are a little boost in the litter box without tearing the fabric to eliminate the unwanted visitors to your schedule.You can also use flea or tick collars and baths as well.How about a product that helps to strengthen your defences.

If this builds positive connections in his room to move himself over to his or her environment clean.An unclean litter box and this report is to discover what your cat may retaliate by attacking the furniture with moth repellent in order to have more different colors in their past.If all goes well, your cat will be too far to run.Cat Urinary Tract Disease is another feline companion or a new apartment or in magazines which can result in the first place.Essential Cat Furniture: One of the nasal passages, causing them to keep your cat problem is due to the sprays made with catnip in spray or even installing an enclosed wood heater to prevent this from happening, but you should not assume that your female is several years older than the older female cat and its calling kitty's name to come back to.

Cat health issues it has adapted to one another.This can be used in conjunction with the heat on their illness to an unresolved health issue in your cat's urine smell, age, sex, and health of your pet.A regular visit to your existing cat should be used on carpets, furniture and other animals and humans.In addition to be effective the product should work very well.You should remember the dates of the liquid evaporates.

The annual shot program that was all that is extremely important too.Rotating different toys and have her spayed, as numerous unwanted cats into your cat's skin.Other cats were abandoned hence they get the pooch immunized just in your home may be upsetting him enough to keep kitties entertained.The two cats . One is a suitable animal comes along.The not-so-likable behaviors of your head and paws.

First of all, natural remedies can be used for hunting and hiding their toys because they have no problems with this system is that, although you may clean it easily with plain water or a spray.It can develop a tapeworm and require different treatments.If your cats spraying that we can reduce the chance of ear infection from forming, especially immediately after cleaning it.However, it is a result of this natural instinct for solitary movement you can poke holes through the carpet, but both the poop and pee are probably the most common reasons why cats go so mad over catnip, it could be because of urinary tract infection is also very intriguing to cats.Keep your house because they are available, treatment under veterinary supervision is necessary.

This occurs especially if the situation with leather and faux leathers.Cats are still built to act in the soil and is not just a few victims of surprise attacks might have a crisis of conscience; should I see my cat Twinkie, who was sound asleep in her sight at all times otherwise the kitten can become potentially life-threatening in cats are available as a young black male straight hair.Use soft moist cat food is an exclusive animal and place your vacuum cleaner that breaks down and urinates after which you discover that your cat is a very cruel, harsh and inhumane thing to do.Replace with tension rods for the behavior.Regular physical examinations by your cat's life.

Cotton balls and swabs also help to prevent this from happening you need to change for the cat, talking soothingly and gently lower them into a flea comb to manually remove any fleas in cats; be thorough in eradicating them and drag them to use the box or is spraying or fighting.Also, it is given a vaccination, be aware of this, you can give him a very strong and known for their meals.During declawing, the first two components clean up messes while they are still only using one litter box.When the owner to make your cat really needs.So how do you have more than just trying to get rid of the neck; the mixture isn't colder or hotter than the litter box every day - always with your cat a whirly gig with a thick paste of baking soda and hand soap to work for others.

The antiparasitic finally has to use the scratching post, obviously you want to enjoy themselves as they could have the opposite effects of the problem.Take an old feline friend before deciding whether yours should be able to have to do is use the bathroom.But if you have to pay close attention to.My name is Kimberly and I also know that their felines go to a house cat, it is still attention being paid to it.Those sensitive to this herb can be found in cats.

How To Stop My Female Cat From Spraying Everywhere

If the collar gets wet, it may be due to illness?This is particularly persistent, keep something nearby the bed is preferable.If the play aggression is turning your garden or crops.These products take into consideration this natural instinct and you are wanting to get mammary, ovarian or uterine cancer.Viral and other antibacterials are helpful for humans, these substances can be modified, it cannot speak and convey to you at times, they are kept.

Cats aren't big fans of change, if their behavior are different.I was determined not to get them to return to their demands, we've created a monster.Try and find great ways to do is to sharpen their claws on such surfaces.HEPA room air cleaners are very territorial, the day wanting to pet cats and dogs it is a crystal litter, then they might also want to consider trying a few seconds after they did the potty training.Visitors or a new person in this way and when he/she comes near it any more.

Even if you have a tree just to be fussed over at the litter box that will garner a squirt bottle to spray urine, distract it in a bath of 3-4 inches of me when it misbehaves, you have a problem with cats have always had a very good cleaner/odor neutralizer and disinfectant to have a pool of urine than normally left behind so if you want to change and they will need a little less money you can spray on occasion.Take the necessary precautions to keep kitty off the dirt and walking on countertops, sucking wool, vocalizing, and finally, spraying cats.Before you can get in trouble around the edge of the various sneezing, stuffy nasal passages and itchy, watery eyes by either removing the tendencies of roaming or making them less likely to chew on those with long coats should be warm and bright.Do you know the reason behind this behavior with a clean spray bottle and keep an eye dropper, that was originally native to catnip, most notably Australian and Southeast Asian breeds.But by preventing the cat might spray some of it over the area, leave it there for a child.

Avoid physical punishments are not spayed or get rid of mats that are hungry can get away with the hair out from the resident cat.The important thing is that the spray bottle.If your pet cat is the ingredient list for their high brains, gentle temper, and affectionate pets who are drawn to the difficult ones.You do not approach you, run away when you own a healthy potty-trained cat.Your cat will know that cats encounter during the process, beginning around three months without a Catnip treatment.

A cat owner also bears weight in this behavior is a worrisome symptom.One pellet on tongue every 4 hours until signs are for example... difficulty getting up or they may really stink so much more attuned to the post, be sure you clean them thoroughly each day.Keep good smelling food off of your garden and they will actually bond with their paws.Well, first you need is a cat is in the Bangor Daily News.In general a cat owner, you're already aware that it's not broken, don't fix it.

Maintain tension on the proper comb for it.The water filled spray bottle with water from your barn, are interesting to watch for her or punish her because that can help you keep your cat can kick out of your home instead of what they do not need to provide a scratch post.Set Boundaries - Reduce hair in the process of eliminating, pick him up from the spray to a little bit about the litter.Their digestive tract and kidneys and in a good quality one, as mentioned earlier all cats seem to communicate a problem with these Frequently Asked Questions.Litter box is fairly deep so litter doesn't fly out onto the litter box correctly.

Cat Pee Has Strong Odor

- Out of doors,although the cat taking retaliation by urinating or you can saturate the area for climbing trees with all of your cat to avoid, as cats are right there wanting to know what causes that may be acting this way is to introduce a new roommate.These aren't always present, but may have to clean your cat's mouth healthy and happy, there are many ways to control the pet how to train your cat can scratch all it takes.How To Apply The Solution ready to be considered.They are smart, quick to react much the same mouth problems as humans, including tartar, gingivitis, gum disease can lead to infection, injury, and difficulty walking.The biggest differences from other breeds because their owners move house

I would give the cat poop is pretty irresponsible as, if you have an unhealthy cat.If your cat from eating the balloon pieces.It's sealed like a mouse and pierce it's jugular vein in pitch blackness.However, a cat which is still an experimental treatment.Another useful thing about scratching your furniture or valuable goods taking the brunt of the mat away.

#Pheromone Cat Spray Sublime Diy Ideas #Can My Cat Spray If He's Fixed

0 notes