Prymus (adj, adv, n): Sanjuzyk: ordinal and temporal first, primary. Derived from the root pry, meaning "before", instead of the numeral one, otin.
The first impression one makes is often the most important. Good, bad, awkward, grating, cryptic â it dispels preconceived notions, creates new narratives, sets the tone for all future interactions or banishes the thought of ever meeting again. It is rarely mutable. Impossibly irrevocable. One tends, after all, to remember the ways in which they meet the most important people in their lives.
or; scyrys sto solys; a phrase with no direct equivalent. Literally: "know no sun." Original meaning lost, likely a curse wishing misfortune on another.
Before memory began and a lifetime stretched between each daybreak, something was born. In the shadow of the first light leaving neither whisper nor plea, something awoke. On the archipelago of Tserya Tenevstroy, trapped by a silent guard and observed by a far-flung Academy, something lies in wait. Isolates amongst isolates, cruel beyond cruelty, worshipers of such a thing elevate one amongst them when winter drags on too long and the sun refuses to rise.
Lightbringer, they name this sacrifice, adorn them in finery and blood, raise them brave and devout, lift them high in worship and delusion to present them to it. None have returned from the lighthouse. The sun has always broken over the horizon in time. None have returned.
A failed Lightbringer violates the natural order. Carries no light in her open palm.
The natural order is this: nothing of or on the archipelago decays. It is too cold to decompose, to disintegrate, to be forgotten. Permafrost and snow conspire to cover the earth for a time. Old bones reappear; the past erodes to present. The bringer of light has become a scion of rot, consumed from innards out by something beyond comprehension or worship. The lighthouse beckons: come home. Make this right.
Know No Sun is presented non-linearly, and does not follow a particular chronology. Each part is dated as accurately as need be. There is no order to the works in the series; they need not all be read nor read in any particular order, but they build off of one another to a more complete story.
Works in Know No Sun, arranged chronologically by start date:
1967: Retrograde Analysis: A pair of researchers discuss their future plans, setting the board and making the first, damning moves in a game that can â and will â only end in mutually assured defeat. Rated M, 2.7k words.
1997-2015: Downward Spiral: When comes forth the sun, warmth will follow with it. Fever, too, is a kind of warmth. Heat is released as a product of decay or as a result of illumination. Rated E, 19.9k words, 10/14 chapters.
2010-2016: All Will Be As It Ever Has Been: Three discussions of inevitability in the Land of Dark Isles. Rated M, 7.3k words, 3 chapters.
2010: Stigmata of Sorts: A lover wounds herself for what she prays to be love. Her beloved allows as much, encourages it. Rated M, 1.7k words.
2012: Faith, Hope, and Other Inadequacies: The newest professor to join the staff of the insular Akademija Tenevstroy is set to be celebrated, welcomed ceremonially by her fellow researchers, professors, and the members of the Board who have determined and decided she belongs here. Despite their demonstrated warmth, she does not feel particularly welcome. There is a target on her back. And every choice she makes seems to keep her heading down a dangerous path she cannot possibly return from. Rated M, 8.9k words.
well when all else fails at least thereâs daydreaming about your oc getting tortured and abused and experimented on and assaulted and dehumanized and torn apart and surgically modified and
Ariane rises from her chair and leans over Leonora's, brazen warmth in the hand that rests near hers. She has taken a new scar since their last game, lancing thin but deep over the curve of her second knuckle. Leonora shuts the notebook containing innovation unsanctioned by anyone but herself and turns to address her. It is only polite.
The newest professor to join the staff of the insular Akademija Tenevstroy is set to be celebrated, welcomed ceremonially by her fellow researchers, professors, and the members of the Board who have determined and decided she belongs here. Despite their demonstrated warmth, she does not feel particularly welcome. There is a target on her back. And every choice she makes seems to keep her heading down a dangerous path she cannot possibly return from.
1) Original / 2) Josephine Balmer / 3) Jim Powell / 4) Julia Dubnoff / 5) A.S. Kline / 6) Andrew M. Miller / 7) Reddit Commenter / 8) Gillian Spraggs / 9) Diane J. Rayor / 10) Anne Carson
Hi everyone.
I didnât think Iâd be doing this when I got my new job last year, BUT my driving instructor has been bleeding me dry over the past few months and tbh Iâm starting to struggle with paying for anything not an absolute necessity right now. Iâm hoping this will change soon, but it canât hurt to offer some commissions to anyone who might be interested.
So, hereâs a list of fandoms I write for:
Boku No Hero Academia
Jujutsu Kaisen
Bleach
Naruto
Fire Emblem (Iâve played Awakening, Fates, Echoes, the Tellius duology, 3H and Engage.)
Dangan Ronpa
X-Men
Peaky Blinders
Bungou Stray Dogs
The Boys (2019)
And possibly others, depending on if Iâve heard of the show. I mostly do Reader Inserts but I might be willing write shipping fics if I like or am neutral on the ship. Also note I prefer writing female Readers and I mostly write M/F. (I will also consider OC x Canon.)
Pricing is $2 per 100 words, so 1000 words would be $20 and so on. Sorry if this seems expensive, but itâs necessary. (Also with the exchange rate being how it is, $20 is like ÂŁ14.12 over here.)
I have a Kofi so if anybody is interest, message me and we can go from there. :)
âHave you taught them to play?â he asked suddenly, mostly unaware of the words leaving his mouth until he registered Anatolyâs look of surprise.
âIâŠno,â Anatoly answered, and his face seemed to Freddie more flushed than it had been seconds before. Anatoly swallowed and cast his eyes downwards, searching the table before selecting a deviled egg. He raised it to his lips but didnât bite, staring at the beet-red yolk as though it might hold the answer to whatever question was running through his mind.
âI donât know if I should,â he told the egg. His eyes flickered up to Freddieâs, holding his gaze firmly despite the unbearable liquid uncertainty of his own. âI learned when I was young. How old were you?â
Freddie sucked a sticky crumb of medovik off the edge of his teeth before answering, âYoung.â He tried not to think too hard about it before he said, âBut we didnât turn out so bad.â
Fandom: Chess (Rice/Ulvaeus/Andersson)
Ship:Â Freddie Trumper/Anatoly Sergievsky
Rating: T
Summary: In 1994, Anatoly Sergievsky sends Frederick Trumper a Christmas card. In 1995, during the World Chess Championship, they meet in Manhattan for a match. That year, Svetlana gives Freddie a very important Russian lesson. In 1999, the century ends, and the American and the Russian are no longer rivals.
I had no idea this post would resonate with so many people. I let my vitriol surrounding several comments I received on a recent update get to me and it spilled out into .gif form and itâs now morphed into the most widely shared thing Iâve ever posted. So many comments and tags have said things along the lines of, âThis was why I quit writingâ or âThis is why I hate writing fanfic.â And thatâs soul crushing to hear, but I can relate.Â
But while there are some crappy and entitled readers, there are also many brilliant ones and Iâm so grateful for them. The huge response to this post made me go back and skim through the comments on my old stories, and comments like the one below are about half the reason some of those stories got finished, even if it was months later.Â
Comments like these are so rare, but when they do come up, they leave me staring at my computer screen, drumming my fingers on the keyboard, struggling to convey my feelings about how their words have touched my heart. These are the comments that take the longest amount of time to respond to and the ones that cause me to wear out my backspace key the fastest.Â
Itâs easy to complain, but itâs literally just as easy to praise, so I just wanted to take a moment to recognize all those dear and dedicated readers who have propped me up when I wanted to quit. Readers like you are why I keep writing, and why I even feel honored to do it on rare occasion.Â
And fellow writers, keep your heads up if you can. :)Â
The first type of comment breaks my heart, both as a writer and a reader. Itâs why Iâve been tempted to quit a few times, in the rare moment when Iâve gotten them.
The second type is seriously the best and I try to leave comments, even short positive ones, for almost every fic I read and enjoy.
All this. Iâve taken to screenshotting and sharing good comments on social media to celebrate them more, because they should be celebrated. And I always do my best to reply.
A tall ship tutorial for those who made logical career decisions in their late teens / early twenties in the hopes that it makes writing fanfiction about your favorite goobers a little easier.Â
me while writing very niche fanfic: thereâs literally no way that, like, anyone is going to read this. you are writing this for you and you alone. you must accept it. you must be zen about it. you must expect nothing except the validation that comes of being able to go back and reread it yourself when youâre in the mood for this kind of fic.
me after posting said very niche fanfic: (obsessively checks ao3 every thirty seconds)
[Image ID: Fanfic banner. A cropped oil painting focused on a game of checkers, with a manâs hand lying on the board and a childâs hand touching the edge. Text on the left is the ficâs title: âjust a little longer, babyâ. End ID]
Svetlana doesnât understand how Anatoly can sleep through it. The crib is right there, just a meter away from their bed, and yet he only stirs when she makes contact with his shoulder and squeezes. He grunts to wakefulness, and Svetlana doesnât say anything, just curls up in the blankets. He rolls out of bed to check on their child.
Why do people stop commenting on fics if theyâre more than a week or two old? Please comment on old fics. Tell me you like my one shot from 2014. Tell me you like my old multi-chap I finished in 2016 that I spent a year writing. I will be fucking thrilled.
Fics are not social media posts. Thereâs no âstalkingâ someoneâs âold postsâ. Theyâre meant to be found and enjoyed years down the line. No need to be nervous.
I reblog this message every time it comes across my dash because itâs true. And also:Â
When I first started writing fanfic, back in the mid 1990s (yes! the late twentieth century!) one of the discouraging things about it was that people treated fanfic as if it was disposable. It seemed like what most readers wanted was a constant stream of new content, whereas I tend to produce one big work every 6-12 months. It made me sad that people seemed to think there was no point to re-reading or saving old fic. There is no sell-by date on fiction! It does not get out of order! It can still work even years or decades later!Â
So yeah, I have stories up at ao3 that are literally a quarter-century old, and every time someone leaves a comment on them I am very pleased to get it. We get attached to our stories and it cheers us up to see that they are still finding readers. It means that they are still âalive,â in some way.Â
Amen and hallelujah! Fic comments are life, and the older the story, the more delightful they are.
Seriously, I get a comment and realize that someone today, at the dawn of the year 2022, found and liked something I wrote fifteen freakinâ years ago in a fandom thatâs waxed and waned and exploded and changed and waned again in the intervening years? That is some prime Grade A unlooked-for validation right there. Make it a long insightful comment and Iâll be glowing for a frigginâ week.
with the tags and search officially being completely broken on all platforms (no new posts are showing up in them anymore), now feels like a good time to remind everyone that the only way to help creators is to reblog their stuff. even before the tags were busted most people found new creators through their content being rebloged onto their dash, and now, at least for the time being, that will be the Only way to find and spread things.
Fast reblog is a thing, you dont have to leave comments, you dont have to leave tags, just reblog stuff if you want to keep seeing new content being posted to this site.
and as a final note, with this change likes are officially completely pointless for content creators. up till now they served to boost a posts placement in the tag searches (a post tagged #girl with 40 likes would show up higher in the search than a post tagged #girl with only 10 likes,)
âHave you taught them to play?â he asked suddenly, mostly unaware of the words leaving his mouth until he registered Anatolyâs look of surprise.
âI...no,â Anatoly answered, and his face seemed to Freddie more flushed than it had been seconds before. Anatoly swallowed and cast his eyes downwards, searching the table before selecting a deviled egg. He raised it to his lips but didnât bite, staring at the beet-red yolk as though it might hold the answer to whatever question was running through his mind.
âI donât know if I should,â he told the egg. His eyes flickered up to Freddieâs, holding his gaze firmly despite the unbearable liquid uncertainty of his own. âI learned when I was young. How old were you?â
Freddie sucked a sticky crumb of medovik off the edge of his teeth before answering, âYoung.â He tried not to think too hard about it before he said, âBut we didnât turn out so bad.â
Fandom: Chess (Rice/Ulvaeus/Andersson)
Ship:Â Freddie Trumper/Anatoly Sergievsky
Rating: T
Summary: In 1994, Anatoly Sergievsky sends Frederick Trumper a Christmas card. In 1995, during the World Chess Championship, they meet in Manhattan for a match. That year, Svetlana gives Freddie a very important Russian lesson. In 1999, the century ends, and the American and the Russian are no longer rivals.
