Halloooo! #6 (&7 if you don't mind two) for the end-of-year ask meme?
So I already answered 6 but I have more.
6. What’s your favourite piece of dialogue you wrote this year?
From Provenance:
“Goodbye, lover,” they said, and tipped backwards and out of sight.
“Motherfucker,” he said to no one and ran to the railing.
7. What’s your favourite piece of description or narration?
Ah. This one is way more difficult because I never remember those parts. Maybe this bit, from it will not be enough (which you had a hand in!):
The storm raged around them still and yet all he could hear was a high pitched screech, a mourning wail that sliced through the waves and the wind. He only realized in the moments after that it was him, the sound born from his own wretched lungs. Crowley slipped on the water-logged deck, his arm looped in a rope to keep him from going over, and leaned over the edge, searching for his crewmate. Searching, and seeing nothing.
Hastur pitched himself towards the boat’s edge, casting out for Ligur’s arms, looking, pleading for his face. Anything of the man at all, and when he couldn’t see it he almost threw himself headfirst into the swirling, murky depths.
Suddenly Beezus’s arms came around his waist. They were strong from years of hauling nets and tying knots and doing absolutely everything on their own, refusing help from anyone who might help them. Beezus pulled him back and they both landed hard on the deck, the water splashing up around them, Hastur’s head smacking the wood.
okay, Barry is definitely demi, and I’ve written over 600 words of him exploring that, which is probably the most I’ve written in WAY too long. So here, have a snippet thats definitely going into a later book:
***
“Yeah, but you and Calypso- labeling it might be new, but you’ve both been clearly dancing around [dating each other] since I’ve met you,” said Will, leaning back against the wall. “I mean, maybe Calypso has been harder to read about it, but I couldn’t imagine you with literally anyone else. It’s always just been her.”
“Well, yeah.” Barry shrugged. “It is just her. There’s never been anyone else. I doubt there will be anyone else, ever. That’s what’s so terrifying about the idea of messing this up.”
“I mean, you’re still a teenager,” pointed out Chris, glancing over with clear concern in his eyes. “Isn’t it a little early to say this is your only chance? Not that I think you’ll need other chances, but…” He wrinkled up his nose. “I think I’m failing at being comforting right now, but, y’know, you fell for Calypso, you can fall for someone else.”
“I mean, I don’t know. I’ve never been attracted to anyone before. Not romantically. Not really.” He bit his lip. “I figured I just wasn’t attracted to anyone, period. Even when I met Calypso, there wasn’t anything there for, like, several months, and then it hit me like a ton of bricks.”
“Huh,” said Chris, before pausing as if to process it. “So, like, you never find other people attractive? Like, physically attractive? At all?”
“Nope,” said Barry, popping the ‘p’. “I mean, I know when people are attractive. Conventionally, I mean. It’s like when I see a picture and I know it’s a good picture. But, uh, no, I’ve never been attracted to anyone except Callie. And even then, like I said, it took a while to actually feel something.”
“I… couldn’t imagine that,” said Chris, honestly. “I mean, I know there are people who never feel some types of attraction to people, like ace and aro people, but in this case- you’re, like, Calypso-sexual or something. Can that be a thing?”
Will answered before Barry had a chance to. “Not being attracted to people until you’ve formed an emotional bond with them is a thing,” he supplied, easily. “Which- that sounds right, right? You weren’t attracted to Calypso until you were already close to her-“
“Yeah,” said Barry, surprise colouring his tone. “Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.”
“Huh,” said Chris again, and he looked thoughtful. “So, can you still be straight then? Or are you just… pansexual but specifically after forming a relationship with them?”
“I mean, I’m pretty sure I’m straight,” said Barry, furrowing his brow slightly. “I can’t imagine myself being with anyone but a girl, any way. But I guess I don’t know?”
“Well, technically, no one knows for certain, because there’s always a tiny chance of fate messing things up for you,” pointed out Will. “But we can be, like, ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure about it, like I am with being gay.”
“Okay, I’m pretty sure I’m straight, then,” said Barry, decisively. “Straight and- what did you say? Calypso-sexual? Sounds like me.”
“See, I was thinking more of the term demisexual, but sure,” said Will, a grin tugging at his lips. “Go with whatever makes you comfortable.”
“I’m going with Calypso-sexual,” said Barry firmly, trying to suppress his own grin. “I think that’s the most accurate. Also, I can’t imagine being as close to anyone else as I was to Calypso in those months, so it still works.”
“Oh, right.” Chris sat up a little straighter, seeming to remember what they were talking about. “I know I started this little detour, but for the record, I think it’s unnecessary. You and Calypso are going to be fine.”
and tagging: @ravenpuffwriter and @jess---writes! (it feels weird to finally use my tag list again lmao)
1. What’s your personal favourite thing you wrote this year?
Either Pretend to be Nice or Provenance. Both Human AUs, which a bunch of people won’t read. Both Beelzebub/Gabriel, which again, a lot of people won’t read. Provenance is also a very particular flavour of messed up that puts people off.
Theme is, the more I write things because I want to write them, the more I like the end result. Quel surprise.
Also for valentine’s day: have a snippet of the first conversation Isabelle and Chris have! It’s not romantic, per say, but first meeting are always important ;). (small warning for length) (I don’t know if this is the sort of thing you use a taglist for, but i’ll tag you guys anyway :) @jess---writes and @ravenpuffwriter)
Izzy stared at him for a few seconds, processing it. “You patched me up… with moss?” She repeated, slowly.
“It’s medicinal?” Chris offered weakly, making a vague hand gesture. “I didn’t really have a lot on hand, and you were bleeding, like, a lot, and I don’t really know much about traditional medicine, but- my aunt taught me some stuff about herbal remedies and natural medicine and stuff. So. I improvised?”
There was a beat.
“Ah,” said Izzy, in a tone that would’ve implied she understood him if he wasn’t too telepathic to see through it.
His cheeks burnt a little. “She liked plants,” he tried again, pushing on. “It’s what she did for a living, growing them and, uh, making stuff with them to help people. It’s not a pseudoscience thing, I mean, it’s actual clinically-proven methods and… I figured it worked better than taking you to a hospital, anyway.”
He forced himself to stop, because Izzy seemed to be getting more and more distressed the longer he rambled, which was the opposite of his goal. He tried for an encouraging smile.
“I promise I’m not poisoning you,” he teased lightly, monitoring her reaction. “This isn’t, like, a long con murder plot, or anything.”
He felt the briefest flare of amusement come from her before immediately being quashed down, and she gave the tiniest twitch of her nose and flexed her hand awkwardly. “I do appreciate it,” she said after a second, her voice taking on an unnecessarily apologetic tone. “I’m just- I mean- thanks.”
“You’ve already thanked me,” said Chris, amusement in his voice. She flushed darkly, which wasn’t his intention, but before he could say anything else she looked down at her stomach and blew out a breath.
“I’m just trying to process this,” she said, sounding tired. “I mean, I woke up… here, and then you tell me you live here, and that your like me, and now you’re saying that I have moss plastered to my stomach-“
“If it helps, the moss is boiled,” offered Chris, mostly as a joke, but she just looked back up at him and bit her lip.
“Thanks,” she said. “I… It’s nice of you to do all of this.”
“You’re welcome,” said Chris, supressing the urge to make another joke as concern flared up in his own chest. Part of him desperately wanted to ask her a million and one questions, to have her tell him the whole story from start to finish, and finally explain what was happening.
The rest of him could feel her exhaustion and stress from where he was sitting, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.
“This place is comfier than it looks, by the way,” he added instead. “There’s enough blankets and stuff here to make a bed of spikes feel comfortable, so you don’t have to worry about anything like that. Also, we have plenty of food and stuff, so-“
This time, his abrupt stop had nothing to do with what he was saying and everything to do with the wide look Izzy was giving him, which he couldn’t quite interpret.
“…so you can just relax until you feel better,” he finished awkwardly, unable to keep the confused expression of his face.
There was a pause that felt like it lasted about two years.
“Oh,” said Izzy eventually, and her face seemed to crumple in on itself for just a second before she looked back down again. “Oh. Um. I, uh, really appreciate all of this, but you don’t have to- I mean, I don’t want you to feel like-“
“It’s really no problem,” Chris cut in, still frowning, and she looked up to give him a weak smile before averting her eyes again.
“Thanks,” she repeated, biting down on her lip harder. “I just- y’know, it’s great, but I don’t want to step on your feet, so it might be best for me to… um-“
“You want to leave,” Chris finished for her, and she flushed again.
Chris forced himself to breath slowly and focus. On the one hand, the last thing he wanted to do was force her to stay here. On the other, he remembered the state she’d been in with perfect clarity, and he doubted that was going to fade soon.
“I don’t want to seem ungrateful,” she said, sounding apologetic again. “I just… need to…” she let herself trail off. He waited a few more seconds for her to start again before he spoke.
“It’s not ungrateful to want to leave,” he said, feeling like he was talking through cotton. “I’m not going to force you stay.”
“Oh, I wasn’t implying you would-“
“What were you doing out there?”
The question slipped out almost without him meaning it, and there was a long moment of silence between them. He didn’t need to clarify it. He could tell by the look on her face and the deep thrum of fear and pain beating out of her that she knew exactly what he meant.
Neither of them moved.
Finally, Izzy blew out a soft breath. “Can’t you read my mind to figure that out?” she asked, her voice tight, looking away.
“I told you I don’t like using my powers for that.” Chris crossed his legs, but let some sympathy leak on to his face. “I try my best to stay out of people’s heads. But you… you do dream loudly, so I… I picked up on some of your nightmares. But nothing concrete. And, really, who of us doesn’t have nightmares at this point?” He braced himself, though he wasn’t sure what for, and Izzy flexed her hand again, still looking away.
There was another awkward, albeit shorter, silence.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said finally, her voice cracking, and he was suddenly hit by a wave sadness strong enough to briefly making him lose track of his own thoughts. “Can that be my answer? I don’t wa- I don’t want to.”
She swallowed, hard, and he could see the shininess of her eyes even from here. A stab of guilt ran through him.
“No- hey-“ he held up his hands, forcing himself not to move forward. He didn’t know if that would be welcome yet. “I mean, yes, it can be- sorry- I’m sorry-“
“No, it’s not your-“
“No, I shouldn’t’ve pushed it, I just-“
“It’s fine.” She wiped her hand across her eyes harshly. “It’s fine- I shouldn’t be-“ she cut herself off with a sound that fell somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “I’m sorry-“
“Don’t be, please don’t be.” Chris shuffled forward just a little, trying to avoid her personal space. “I- I can feel that you’re- I just-“ he stopped, and she screwed up her face for a second before letting out a slow breath.
“I’m okay,” she said, and her voice sounded jarringly normal. “I’m okay.”
“Okay?” Chris repeated, disbelieving, but he realised he couldn’t feel the same level of radiating sadness anymore, and he lowered his hands. “Okay, good,” he said uncertainly.
She closed her eyes. “I get where you’re coming from,” she said slowly, her voice almost eerily calm. “But it’s not- it’s fine. I was just… walking. I was dealing with something.”
“You were dying,” said Chris flatly, and he couldn’t help but wonder how something so cold could sound so calm in the context.
Izzy furrowed her brow for a second before smoothing it back out and opening her eyes. She looked straight at him as she spoke, like she was trying to speak the words into his soul. “I was walking,” she repeated, slowly. “I was dealing with something. I needed to clear my head.”
“You were dying,” Chris repeated in kind. “You were dying of, like, four different things.”
There was a beat.
“I know,” she said, and this time her voice didn’t even break, which was somehow so much worse.
Chris looked away from her, studying the space to the left of him carefully. “Why do you need to leave?” he asked finally, once he’d gathered enough of his wits back up. “Why do you want to go back to being alone so badly?”
She didn’t answer, and after a solid minute of silence, he turned back to her. She was still watching him with that same blank, calm expression, but this time he thought he could see just beneath the surface at all the turmoil.
Then again, maybe he was being optimistic.
“I think you should stay,” he said finally. “I think that would be safer.”
Finally, her expression faltered, and he could practically see her desperation to insist that either way would be fine. After a second, she pushed the tip of her tongue out of her lips and visibly bit down on it, which would’ve probably sent a jolt of surprise through him if it wasn’t for the situation.
“It’s not your job to help me,” she said slowly, finally, in a tone that was clearly meant to reassure him.
He shook his head. “I found you,” he reminded her. “I took care of you. It didn’t need to be my job. It doesn’t need to be now.”
“I don’t want to get in your way, or waste your time-“
“You won’t,” he assured her. “I have very little to do with my time, and it’s all carefully scheduled. Anyway, I’m not planning to babysit you 24/7 or anything. It’s just a place to stay. And some food and water.” And a guarantee you’ll have someone nearby, he added to himself, but he didn’t say it out loud. He suspected he didn’t need to.
Izzy looked at him with an emotion he couldn’t even start to describe, and then turned to look into the rest of the cave. “I’m tired,” she said, finally.
It was an agreement, even if it didn’t sound like one.
“That makes sense,” said Chris, keeping his voice calm. “You can try and get some sleep before I make dinner, if you want? You’ve got a few hours.”
She nodded mutely, then, “I also need to pee really bad.”
Chris tried to suppress his snort, but her brief look at him told him he’d failed spectacularly. “Sorry,” he said, and she gave him a sad smile that seemed to be the most she could muster. “That was blunter than I was expecting. Uh, right, I’ll show you were to go.” He pushed himself to his feet. “Like I said, these are the old stow-away tunnels. We have running water and everything.” He grinned at her as she stood up, rolling her probably-aching muscles.
She glanced over at him as she flexed her ankles, and raised an eyebrow. “You called them the hidden tunnels earlier,” she noted, lightly.
“Well, yeah, same difference.” He shrugged easily, but she didn’t drop her slightly bemused look. It took him a second to process it. “You don’t know what these are?” He realised, surprise clear in his tone.
She shook her head mutely.
“Le grotte nascoste? Like from the last war?” He stared at her incredulously. “You never did that in history?”
“I didn’t take history.”
“Yeah, but I mean, when you were kid- like, when it was mandatory-“ he drew in a deep breath to cut himself off, realising he was going on a tangent. “You know what? Never mind. I’ll explain it to you later.”
I got a little angsty earlier, so take some angsty Isabelle as my coping mechanism! set a decent amount ahead of the current book I’m writing.
Her insides were burning up with so many emotions that she wouldn’t even know where to begin. She knew there were questions that needed answers, and explanations she needed to give, because people are confused and she was only adding to that stress.
But at the same time, she had no answers or explanations. She only had that constant burning pressure that’s still steadily climbing through her stomach and her chest and into her throat and making her eyes sting.
She meant to put the cup down normally, gently, just so she wasn’t holding it awkwardly anymore, and so that she had an excuse to turn away from Chris for even a few seconds.
Clearly, her body didn’t get that memo.
The cup shattered on impact, so loud and forceful that her ears and hand rang, and the brown liquid was thrown everywhere.
She swore, soft and flat, but it doesn’t help. All it does is make her see Paige’s face from so many years ago, explaining that their parents swear to get some of their anger and emotions out before they try other methods, and Izzy already knew what the ‘other methods’ could be. She wasn’t sure the swearing was much better than some of the ways, but she supposed she could handle it. Apparently though, Paige lied, because it doesn’t release any of her emotions. Or maybe she just did it wrong, maybe you were meant to be loud, or maybe she was directing it at the wrong thing, or maybe she was simply too broken at this point for it to make a difference. Either way, thinking about Paige just added to the pain, and she was so, so tired of things not working.
She forced herself to focus, remembering that she needed to clean up the mess she made, and realised Chris had moved straight to her side, cradling her hand in both of his. She wasn’t holding the handle anymore, and she didn’t bother looking for it. Instead, she stared blankly at her hand until her brain realised that the liquid was both chocolate and blood, from where the shards of ceramic had scratched her.
“Are you listening to me?” Asked Chris, his voice sounding soothing and gentle and not as accusing as she probably deserved for ignoring him for however long she’d been zoned out for.
“I’m sorry,” she said, because it seemed politer than just saying no, and she didn’t know what else to say. His expression turned to sympathy.
“Don’t be,” he said softly, turning his attention back to her hand. “You don’t need to be. I was just saying that you hurt yourself, but I can’t see any glass in the cut. Or whatever that thing was made from, anyway. Just- let me clean it up.”
“You don’t have to,” she said, and her voice sounded like it was muffled through several layers of wool or something. She wondered distantly if it sounded like that to him as she tried to move her hand back, but he then he tightened his grip and raised his eyebrow at her. Now that she was aware of it, she could feel a dull ache in her hand, but little else.
“I don’t have to,” he agreed, before tilting his head towards the tap and using his powers to turn it on. She got the hint, and she was too tired to argue against something she actually didn’t dislike right now, so she let him lead her over to the side.
He was as gentle and careful as he usually was when he cleaned off her hand, apologising as he went over the injury itself. He put so much focus on it that somewhere, amidst the burning, she felt a twinge of happiness at being cared for like this.
It was selfish, according the constant obnoxious feeling in her head, but maybe it was allowed.
“Is it really painful?” Asked Chris, his voice pulling her back into her body before she cut fully zone out again. She blinked and had to force herself to process the question.
“Oh, no,” she said, honestly. “Not really.”
Chris lifted his gaze to look straight into her eyes for a few seconds, like he was trying to assess her answer, but eventually he seemed to realise she was being genuine and relaxed a little. Confusion was still clear in his eyes, but as long as it wasn’t concern, she could take it. “Good, I guess,” he said after a few more seconds, returning his focus to her hand. “I mean, it should hurt, because it’s both burnt and cut, but I’m not complaining about the fact it doesn’t.” He paused, running his thumb absent-mindedly across her wrist, and glanced at her.
She couldn’t tell what he was trying to figure out, and thinking about her hand being burnt brought her back to the source of this specific problem, so she straightened up a little. “I’m sorry, about the mug. That wasn’t- it wasn’t an intentional fit of anger, or something-“
“I know,” said Chris mildly, looking like he was surprised she even had to say it. “I know you didn’t intentionally smash it.”
“I was just trying to put it down normally,” she continued, and she felt like she should have some kind of emotion coming out- insistence or defensiveness or something- but instead she felt like the tiniest leak would break the emotional dam, so she spoke like a robot. “I wasn’t paying enough attention, I guess.”
“You were very tense, it happens,” he said with a light shrug, and she wondered if that one deeper, more melancholy feeling would ever stop pulsing in her when she was on the receiving end of his sheer forgiveness. She doubted it.
“I’m sorry,” she said again, because she had nothing to say, and the tired and sympathetic look returned.
“You should put a bandage on this,” he said instead of addressing it. “Do you… want to talk, or something, while we get one?”
“I mean, sure, but there’s not much to talk about,” she replied before realising that that was the wrong thing to say, because there were still those answers and explanations she didn’t have. “I mean, I know I need to explain some stuff, I just-“
“You don’t need to explain anything that’s not going to make you feel better right now,” corrected Chris, sternly. “Everyone else gets that. I meant that we could talk about anything you wanted to talk about right now.”
“I’m fine,” said Izzy, easily, taking her hand back. “You’re probably right about the bandage, but I’m okay.”
“That’s not true,” said Chris, but he let her hand go this time. “If you don’t want to talk about it, though, that’s fine. But you don’t have to act like everything’s fine right now.”
She didn’t really know how to react to that, and it made her stomach twist, so she smiled slightly. Not big enough to be weird, but enough to seem grateful. “I’m okay,” she said again, in what she hoped was a reassuring tone. He clearly didn’t believe her, even though he conceded and didn’t mention it again as they left the kitchen, and she felt like someone was carving a hole in her chest when she realised.
She was not equipped for people not believing her.
Aaaand it’s done! I have no idea why I didn’t do this sooner, it’s a lot of fun! Also... Prov has a lot of characters. I had to cut some more minor ones out just so this didn’t get too long, and it’s still bad. but they’re all my babies so it’s fine!
anyway shout out to @incandescent-creativity for making this a Thing because this was! so fun!
Anyway the scene in question was that during a ‘date’ between two of the characters were they basically just go and relax in the middle of nowhere cause god knows they deserve a break, on of the characters reads to the other.
And i thought it was cute, but i couldnt think of any reason for them to read out loud.
UNTIL NOW.
So have the (sleep deprived) scene that kind of explains it:
***
Obviously, Izzy knew what book it was. The first one in an old, practically- if not literally- ancient fantasy series. In fact, in the fantasy series. The quintessential one, according to like everyone ever.
Much to Chris’ absolutely horror, she’d never made it past a few chapters.
“It’s just the writing style!” She justified herself with last time they’d mentioned it. “It’s too description heavy and not action-y enough and I can’t focus on it-“
“It’s a literary masterpiece,” Chris had argued. “With the greatest characters and settings known to man-“
“And the slowest narrative ever. There’s so many periods of nothing but needless descriptions-“
She lifted her eyes up from the book so she could raise an eyebrow at him.
