99% of fanfiction is absolute dogshit bathwater and that’s beautiful, I love that, I love that the barrier for entry is nonexistent, I love that anyone can do it, I love all the badly written porn, I love that it’s just creation for creation’s sake, I love it. Except when it’s something I’m into. When it’s something I’m into, then I’m gonna need everyone to step it up.
WIP Wednesday - There is a Light That Never Goes Out
I was tagged last week by @mareenavee so it is I who is starting the tagging this week! I am tagging you back, and also tagging @saltymaplesyrup, @dirty-bosmer @ser-i-vant @expended-sleeper
This week's fic is yet another Warframe fic. This one got started because I had A Vision of Albrecht and Loid speeding around Höllvania on an atomicycle. I tried to get it out of my head by making my silly little Hero Forge model, but it just made me think about it more until I had to start writing it down.
Summary: Albrecht Entrati takes Loid back in time to 1999 for a day out in Höllvania.
Loid stepped out of the Höllvania Central Mall into a world on fire.
It was not actually burning, of course, but bright saffron light filled the narrow street outside the small door at the back of the warehouse. Loid looked up and his breath caught in his throat.
Trees!
He had seen trees before, of course. But other than the small specimens kept in pots and under glass by only the wealthiest Orokin houses, and the metallic, void-born, structures Albrecht had brought back from his excursions, Loid had never encountered any in the flesh—trees had been found to adapt poorly to any environment other than Earth, no matter how much effort or expense was poured into nurturing them, and most extraterrestrial colonization relied solely on fungi to fill their ecological niche.
The street was filled with trees.
Perhaps not filled—that would have been quite disruptive to any attempt at movement. But at regular intervals tall trunks stood sentry at the side of the road, and on their branches fluttered a hundred thousand leaves in brilliant gold and red hues.
A gust of wind, not biting but carrying a hint of colder weather to come, swept down between the tall brick facades, sending the leaves fluttering down from the branches and tumbling along the paving stones.
Without thinking, Loid reached out and caught one. It was larger across than his hand, and a brilliant orange fading to yellow at the edges. A delicate, fractal network of veins stretched over its surface.
“It is known as a Trøndelag Maple.” Loid startled at Albrecht’s voice at his elbow. “The trees,” Albrecht clarified at Loid’s puzzled look. “That is the colloquial name of the species. I have been unable to find any record of them in the archives.”
“A pity…” Loid turned the leaf over. A small brown beetle had been clinging to the underside. It took the opportunity to spread its elytra and take flight into the morning sunlight. It suddenly struck Loid that this was the first time he had ever truly visited Earth. He had been to Lua many times, of course, but Earth, with her scarred surface and irradiated atmosphere, was not a place one would generally visit unless one had a very compelling reason.
“It is not unlikely that the species evolved into something unrecognizable from the ancestral stock,” Albrecht said, his voice taking on a solicitous tone as it always did when he was trying to convince Loid of something he did not fully believe himself.
The signs of tension in Albrecht’s posture would have been invisible to anyone other than Loid: the way Albrecht’s expression was carefully neutral while watching Loid’s face, the set of his shoulders, and the way his feet were slightly too-wide apart.
It is important that I enjoy this city, this time, Loid thought. He is worried I won’t.
“It’s beautiful.” Loid gazed up again at the riot of color above their heads.
Albrecht held out his hand, and Loid handed over the leaf without a second thought. Albrecht pulled out his journal and carefully slid the leaf between its pages before pressing it closed. “We will have to put it through the decon chamber when we return, but it should not be damaged by the process.”
There’s a liquor store near my house that seems to be run exclusively by frat boys. They lovingly curate these bags, which I browsed today while “Oops I Did It Again” played through the store speakers. This is art to me, there is beauty everywhere for those with eyes to see it