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chaos-monkeyy https://chaos-monkeyy.tumblr.com/post/621839487376474112/reblog-if-youre-a-fanfic-writer-and-you-wanna :
Oooh please?
👀👀 (Your picture was not posted)
Oct. 7th, 2021
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ha, thanks! I hadn’t realized that post https://bomberqueen17.tumblr.com/post/664386192437051392/reblog-if-youre-a-fanfic-writer-and-you-wanna had come out of my queue so I was mildly confused. but! i thought of a fun game, I’ll give sequel or outtake snippets for asks! so. here is a snippet from the sequel to the sequel of Peace-Tied, which I am working on and which is taking forever!
“How can there be no one alive who knows [what year Iorveth was born]?” Roche asked.
Iorveth’s smile went taut and he looked away. After a moment, Ciaran said, “You– you realize dh’oine have killed most of the Aen Seidhe on the Continent, yes? This is a thing you were aware of?”
“I know this,” Roche said, pulling his mitten off to rub his forehead. He put it back on hastily; it was cold out here and he’d been out in it a long time.
“Not all Aen Seidhe used the same calendar reckonings,” Ciaran said, voice colder than the air.
Iorveth turned back to look at Roche, grin sharp and keen. “So how old are you?”
“Guess,” Roche said, before his mind could catch up with his mouth.
“A hundred,” Ruarigh said.
“Dh’oine don’t live that long,” Ciaran said scornfully.
“How long do they live,” Faengil asked, nudging his horse forward to peer at Roche with great interest.
“Do they really not know,” asked one of the men Roche had recruited. He was a former Temerian soldier, and sort of presently still was, though he was so muffled in remade old fur-lined coats that he mostly looked like a bear.
“Why would they know how long it takes us to die of natural causes?” Roche asked. “For all they know, I’m twenty-two.”
“I’m guessing not that,” Iorveth said.
“Well if she’s twenty,” Faengil said, indicating Ves, “then you must be older.” He hesitated. “Right?” (Your picture was not posted)
retail therapy
Oct. 7th, 2021 01:25 pmspending
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so. the pandemic unemployment fuckery broke my ability to spend money like a normal person. i had zero income from March through September of 2020, because my employer had been reporting my social security number incorrectly for years (and i’d asked them to fix it for years! and they never had! love it, bet I’ll get my tax form next year and they still won’t have!) and so there was no record of my having worked ever– anyway. it eventually got sorted out, and after most of the year being broke as a fucking joke, I got like. 27 deposits all at once. it was intense.
Anyway I forgot how to buy things, during that time. I was staying with people, dependent on other people for food, and I bought only gas during that whole time, to keep my car running, and I just. Forgot. How people. Interact. With the economy.
So this year I’ve been trying to remember how to people, and how to have a normal relationship with things, and it’s going uhhh eccenctrically. I have bought myself several pairs of shoes, including a pair of rose-gold metallic Birkenstocks I’m currently wearing. And I bought myself that ridiculous dragon hoodie. And then I went back and bought myself more glitter spandex shit– a pair of custom leggings with dragon scale side panels, for example. And then I impulse-purchased myself a little black dress from a sustainable fashion site with inclusive sizing https://loudbodies.com/.
What I need is new sweatpants, some socks, and a like basic normal-person lined hoodie for cold weather. But now I’m worried I’ll impulse-spend too much money. I’m definitely getting the endorphins-from-adding-things-to-shopping-carts that can wind up a kind of ADHD addiction.
I still did not buy myself exquisite custom lingerie; i’ve had tabs open since February about that. Didn’t do it though. Probably won’t.
But today I’m wearing green stretch velvet sleeves with an otherwise monochrome-black outfit, and I can’t stop admiring how shiny my arms are. Maybe I needed a few endorphins.
(The dragon hoodie is….. saved for special occasions or else I’d wear it literally constantly. Also I want to alter it and give it pockets and make it slightly less fitted and… on the one hand if I do that it’ll be out of commission while I sew it, but on the other hand if I do that it will be uh, all I ever wear.) (Your picture was not posted)
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I had to look up which one was Dusty Corridors. Oh yes, I loved writing that one.
I did not have a snippet for this one but it got me to write one, of how I’m planning on folding the Trust triad back into the main series. I had to do math for this, you’re welcome!
I’ve no idea what the title will be of this one, it’s a sequel to all of them. i do have a timeline! I don’t have outlines, i don’t work that way. But i have a timeline. This is sometime in May of 1273 probably.
Iorveth was having trouble keeping track of all the sorceresses. They made him nervous, and he didn’t like them.
This one was Keira Metz, he knew that, he’d been briefed. Former court sorceress for Foltest, she was only moderately ambitious, but just as manipulative as any other mage. He’d seen her before, and she’d had her chest mostly exposed.
Today she was dressed– less provocatively, perhaps. She was in a lovely brocade coat and some trousers. He’d missed her entrance; she was in one of the little lounges scattered around this place, and had two companions. One was a man in armor, standing next to her with his arms crossed, looking dubious. The other was lounging extravagantly on a couch, and Iorveth couldn’t tell anything about him except that he was either lying at a very strange angle or was quite tall. His hair was fair, and he waved a hand at something Keira had said. She leaned over the back of the sofa, tousling his hair fondly.
The standing man turned his head alertly, and had spotted Iorveth before he could move. A Witcher– Iorveth knew it instantly. No one else would have known he was there. The man’s eyes were golden like a cat’s, and he glowered suspiciously.
Iorveth gave up on spying and walked over, out of the shadow he’d been skulking in. “Oh,” the Witcher said, “I know who you are.”
Keira looked up from playing with the other man’s hair. “Oh,” she said. “Iorveth.”
“At your service,” Iorveth said, nodding politely.
The man on the couch tipped his head upside-down to look at him, almost comically awkward, but then immediately whipped around and scrambled up to his knees. “Iorveth!” he said. “Ah!”
Iorveth blinked at him, not having expected that reaction, and then frowned. The man on the couch was another Witcher, with one yellow-green eye and the other– something was strange about the other. He was a tall man after all; as he stood more gracefully from the couch, he was a fingerwidth or so taller than Iorveth.
“You don’t recognize me,” he said, grinning, and hooked his thumb inside his shirt, pulling out a Witcher medallion. That, Iorveth recognized– it was a cat. “Not surprising, that. I think I was a bit shorter when we met.”
A bit shorter– Cat medallion– Iorveth tilted his head back a little as it hit him. “Little monster!” he said. “You’re one of the little monsters!”
The Cat laughed. “Yes!” he said. “Aiden.”
(the game is you send an ask about what your favorite of the stories i’ve written is and i respond with either a snippet or maybe some DVD commentary or whatever else I can come up with. this is slightly backfiring because of course I don’t remember my notes on older stories, or where I stashed the deleted scenes, but I am confident I can solve this, LOL, and meanwhile the Witcher ones are getting answers faster.) (Your picture was not posted)