Subject: It doesn't look like self-control.
Author:
Posted on: 2017-12-21 16:00:00 UTC
*pets* It looks like a dam about to burst. Even a will as rigid as yours can only take so much before something has to give somewhere. What we need is a controlled release. ... By which I mean talking; don't give me that look.
(( Totally dig the ship name, by the way! It kinda sounds like an alien race, and a totally badass one. ^_^ ))
After reading the PPC Census, I saw a recommendation (to make the PPC better) from someone to put in a weekly (or bi-weekly/every other week, memory is fuzzy) writing prompt. And, I think that's a really good idea!
The 'every other week' writing prompt would help Newbies and Peeps Without Permission to get into the habit of writing and hone their skills. Furthermore, it would give people who already have Permission a reason to write (could help with writer's block!)
I think this should be implemented. Your thoughts?
The monsoon hit especially hard this year. Simon's eyes are staring into the sky, populated with racing water droplets agitated beyond it's airbone size limit by the dusts and crystals high up in the atmosphere.
The rains hit the zinc roofs with thunderous clatter. Young children are scared and cling to Simon for heat and comfort, but Simon can only feel a calming drowsiness.
"Abang! Abang!" Simon is jolted.
"What, budak?"
"Abang, I'm bored."
Forming his right hand into a claw, Simon clasps his brother's head lightly and rock it back and forth slightly. "Can't you see I am daydreaming, Damian?"
The boy chuckles as his head bobbed around. "Abang, I want to play computer."
"Father says not to, if lightning hits electronics, it will ruin them."
"Can I play your handphone please? Please, please, please?"
Simon sighs. The phone is at 80%. "Alright, wait." He moves his thumb, swiping the screen windows one way and other. After deleting his browsing history, he hands the phone over.
"Tonight, do homework you understand. Don't make Mom take away my handphone. If she does, I am going to eat all your cakes."
Damian shrieks in 'horror', then runs away to play Angry Birds.
After a few hours, the rain slows down to a drizzle. It is afternoon, and Simon grunts as he rises from the sofa. Damian is already asleep, the phone placed safely on his study table. Damian opens Whatsapp. His fingers taps the phone screen lightly, measuring his words.
"Celestine, what you doing?"
"Why? Wanna dating, issit?"
"No, just checking bah!"
"Bah, don't just check only, visitlah some time!"
"Your bapa' so scary, looks like eating people."
"Your fault, you don't bring him durian!"
"Where got durian this year? Next year then durian season."
"Ahahahahah, durian cheesecake also OK mah."
"Oh bah. Later this week no rain, I come yah."
"Arright, later I come, wear nice-nice."
"Ok. Eh, I wanna work now. My brother sick, can't wash plates."
"Babai."
"Babai."
Damian smiles as he opens the app for Maybank. He looks at the amount in his bank. RM 30 000. Hopefully Celestine's father isn't the type to do grand weddings and hosts a thousand relatives, friends, and clients.
This is it. He will propose this week.
Mollie and Ollie grinned at each other. Mollie said, "Now, we play Constance Sims!"
"On Isengard, of course," added Ollie.
"On Isengard! On Isengard!" Mollie said, mimicking a very old song from the World One internet.
Wilma glared from the other side of the table. "No. Singing." She wore her usual t-shirt showing a music note with a line crossed through it, centered inside a sniper reticle.
"Dang it," said Wilma's team mate, Riso. "We almost had Dafydd down!" He scooted a few inches further from Wilma, who was in a plenty bad mood even while she still had her sense of humor. No sense risking touching her, even as covered in clothing as he was.
"Why yes, we will be using Constance's heal ability to restore Dafydd's health. Of course, you can block with—oh, you can't, because you couldn't get anyone to follow Dafydd to Isengard last turn!"
"Not like we didn't try!" Wilma complained. "Oscar Henson kept blocking it, despite his low speed stat."
With a sagely lilt, Ollie said, "Ah, the joys of uniting a married couple on the table."
"Figures you two would go there," Riso muttered.
Mollie and Ollie had gone back to looking at the cards in their collective hand, but after a moment they frowned. They looked at each other, then up at Riso. "What do you mean by that?" asked Mollie.
"Well. Like. You two." Riso pointed between his two opponents.
"It's pretty obvious," Wilma explained.
Mollie and Ollie looked at each other again, brows furrowed. "Not to us, apparently," Ollie said.
Wilma huffed. "Your names rhyme. You're always together. You're from the same story. You speak in unison. You're getting married when you're older."
"Your story was in a Disney fandom, too," added Riso. "That pretty much guarantees it!"
"Childhood sweethearts getting married. It's such a cliched plot, there's pretty much no way out of it for you."
Mollie and Ollie stared across the coffee table, open-mouthed. "Dude!" they said in unison.
"There it is again," said Wilma.
"No way," protested Mollie. "We can't get married. That is so gross!"
"Yeah, that's a totally weird thing to say!" said Ollie. "We're like, you know . . ." He trailed off.
"Augh!" Wilma put her hand over her mouth and looked off to the side with a dramatic motion. "I am so sorry, guys. It didn't even occur to me!"
"Wait, what?" asked Riso.
"We should have known," said Wilma. "It's pretty obvious now. They're siblings!"
Mollie and Ollie stared across the table, dumbfounded.
"What?"
"Nooo."
"She's not my sister. Jeeze!"
Now Wilma furrowed her brow. "You're not? Oh. Well then, you're totally getting married."
"Are not!" Mollie yelled, though it was easily drowned out by the cacophony of the Nursery around them.
"Not a chance," Ollie said. "Like I was saying, we're like, you know . . . friends!"
"Yeah, we couldn't fall in love. That would be weird!"
Wilma and Riso glanced at each other, then began snickering.
"Okay then, weirdos," Wilma said, "is it our turn now?"
"Not a chance!" Mollie and Ollie said in unison. "We still have two actions left this turn!"
Wilma and Riso smirked.
doctorlit's note: Yeah, I didn't actually use the line from the prompt, but I couldn't come up with a situation where any of my adult characters would say it. I figured this discussion at least sticks to the theme of misunderstandings and confused feelings, eh?
Incidentally, I'm flummoxed for a title, so suggests for that in addition to regular concrit are welcome.
I can't comment much on kid-realism, I'll leave that topic to someone else.
I like the scene in general, and the whole "we're not gonna get married"/"are too" sounds like something that would happen.
Now, one thing I noticed is that the setting feels underdefined for how it's used. You're mentioning the fact that there's at least one table and that some are moving a bit, but I don't really have a sense of where anyone is or what the place they're in looks like outside of those briefly-mentioned details (and it feels like I should).
Title-wise ... "Totally-not-love and Games"? (It just popped into my head while writing the review)
- Tomash
With four speakers, none of them having particularly recognizable verbal patterns, I tried to keep the dialogue moving as naturally as possible, with few distractions, but I guess I went overboard in that direction.
Hm. I can probably work with that title . . .
—doctorlit, Nursering
"I can't."
---
"I, I just... I mean, we've been together so long-"
"Only a few months."
"It feels longer. A lot longer. Like living in a dream."
"I know. It's been a dream for me too. But dreams end, honey."
"Not for you."
---
"What do you want me to do, cob, beg? Because your scrawny arse knows I'll beg."
"Yes, it does. So does the rest of me."
"Then why-"
"Because I can't do that to you."
"... Not following."
"My people, we've got this, this thing. We can go anywhere, at any time, to see and to feel and to be. But we can't leave too great of a mark in case it makes things worse."
".. Still not following."
"I mean-"
"I get it, you know? I get it. The way you are... it doesn't lend itself to settling down. But, but what you're missing is that it doesn't matter to me. I don't want to settle down! I'm twenty-four, for God's sake! I've got my whole life ahead of me!"
"Don't I know it."
---
"Will you at least think about it?"
"I've done all the thinking about it I can, honey. Trust me, affairs of the hearts are something I know a bit about."
"You keep saying that."
"... I'm hearing a quotative like at the end of that sentence."
"Ugh, fine. You keep saying that like I'm not... your first."
"Well, you aren't."
"I, I know that. Sorry. That wasn't what I-"
"I know what you meant. You think that if I won't wrap a bit of metal around your finger or bind our wrists with silk or consume one of our specially bred clone-young at a feast in your honour - bee tee dubs, Sontar is weird as heck - that means I don't think you're special."
"Well? Do you think I'm special? Or do you rate me as just another notch that just happened to stick around-"
"I'm over five hundred years old."
"... Damn."
"Yeah."
"I... I don't know what to say to that."
"Most people ask about who supplies me with my moisturizer."
"Damn it, why do you have a crap joke for every occasion?"
"Practice."
"Over five centuries?"
"You learn to weed out the bad ones."
"No you don't."
"No, I do. I just choose not to."
---
"Won't you? Please? Even now?"
"No, Lola..."
---
The shaking figure of the Time Lord didn't look imperious, or severe, or indeed like much of anything. She just looked beaten. She shook in her partner's arms, the sweat on her brow staining the clown's dungarees.
"Wanna talk about it?"
"I can't."
The emotional mood of this story is powerful throughout the whole thing. Even though I only guessed the Notary as being the Time Lord before the end. (Haven't read enough of Lola to be able to recognize her speaking voice.) But the simultaneous yearning for the other character on both parts, and the firm, almost careful refusal on the part on of the Notary, are incredibly expressive and powerful.
Even though it's all dialogue, the scene breaks, and the clear fact that these exchanges don't follow together as a single conversation, also get across the vast gulf of time between these moments. The first one, with the single line, becomes incredibly cold in retrospect, as it seems like the first time Lola broached the subject, and that the Notary just straight up shut it down with a one-line denial.
—doctorlit, trying to come up with his own story now
But I'm still here. Just sayin'. Y'know, if Wobbles wants to go dry off at any point, I can take over. For the team?
(( Dammit, the Notary is not allowed to cry. Or, well, looking at it again, I guess there aren't actual tears coming from her eyes, but it still reads like crying to me. This situation must be rectified immediately. ~NeshomehNope, still Jenni. Never mind the fourth wall. ))
I come bearing tea, chocolate, a ridiculously fluffy blanket, and freeze-dried chicken for Lolus. *observes the trembling and sweating* ... Is this some sort of fever-state? I know aspirin is a no-no, but is there anything else you need...?
*proceeds to fuss, coddle, and cuddle*
(( We gotta write something with these two eventually. Crack shipping or slightly-less-crack canon [friend?]shipping, either way. I'm sorry I'm so bad at making stuff happen!
(( ~Actually Neshomeh this time. ))
"It's self-control. I've been a totally broken-down emotional wreck only once before, and it was sufficiently scarring that I never want to be like that again. Ever. I refuse."
*is fussed, coddled, and cuddled, and feeds Lolus little chunks of chicken with lettuce, red onion, garlic sauce, and wrapped in a pitta bread it's a kebab. Again. He likes them. DWI.*
(( We shooooooould. Canon Jennotari shipping, friend or otherwise, is best shipping. =] ))
*pets* It looks like a dam about to burst. Even a will as rigid as yours can only take so much before something has to give somewhere. What we need is a controlled release. ... By which I mean talking; don't give me that look.
(( Totally dig the ship name, by the way! It kinda sounds like an alien race, and a totally badass one. ^_^ ))
"The Jennotari were slaves once. Designed as such, in fact. Their creators, the Scaesh, built them to be cogitators - biological computers to act as pilots for their starships, guiding their great vessels across the void with micron precision. Their species grew ever more familiar with the universe, but could never reach out and touch it; their bulk was such that the gravity of a world would cause them to collapse in on themselves, and that was how the Scaesh disposed of them when the poor travellers had outlived their usefulness. It was as much a warning and a threat as anything else; stay in line or be cast out to bleed and break.
"With most races, that would be the end of it - bio-slaves dissolved when the empires that made them fell and disappeared into memory. Not so with these. The Scaesh built things to last, and their orbital habitats around worlds and suns are rightly famous. But their technology could not save them, in the end, from hubris; they abandoned physical bodies to live in cyberspaces of their own creation, and once the last had done so, the Jennotari found themselves with no more masters, save the congregations in their long, wide memories. The gravity on the habitats was recalibrated, and as the Scaesh died, the Jennotari were reborn. They designed much about themselves after that, engineering complex filter-feeding systems that allowed them to sap moisture and nutrients from the air, the waters, and the land around them with every step. They developed art and culture, and they slowly designed gravitic compensators - like the inertial dampers on a conventional warp drive - so that they could walk on the surfaces of planets and honour the long-lost in their own way.
"They are tender giants, ancient and ever-living, wandering vagrants and gentle protectors. They will not be roused to violence by anything save slavers, but should a slavemaster come to a Jennotari world, they will not leave it. That is their mission now, now that their masters are dead and gone, now that the Scaesh worlds themselves are relics. They live, and love, and are free."
-- Ceemeh N'gra Ceshospa, asteroid miner and slave-freer.
Not attributing any of the dialogue and leaving me to figure out who the heck these people were was a good storytelling technique. It wasn't overly confusing, and you'd left enough hints in there to allow me to figure out it was (hopefully this pads the spoilers) the Notary and Lola before you revealed that.
Those clues, of course, required familiarity with your spinoff. I can't speak to how readable this is to someone who hasn't read your stuff before, so I'd suggest finding such a person if you want a review from that perspective.
Poor Notary. (Oh my word you're getting me to say such things, congrats, but I think I have some context for this.)
If a reunion ever happens (of if this is post any such reunion), it'll be rather intense, it seems.
- Tomash
I figured out who they were about a line into the second actual chunk of dialogue, and
And
My feels :(
(Though, apart from the feels--I love the jokes she throws in, I love the Time Lord perspective, and it just gets sadder and sadder and I'm back to the feels now. And the ending. And it hurts. And well done.)
~Z
PS: my one main question: is this canon? Or just something that could have happened but didn't officially?
You think I'm ever gonna pass up a chance to make the Notary feel deep and unceasing pain? =]
Is there any way they'd ever possibly get married in the future, assuming they meet at some point? Or would that be way too spoilery to answer?
~Z
((Thanks to Delta for letting me borrow Grace.))
Charlotte tilted her head back, feeling snowflakes settle on her cheeks before melting into tiny droplets. "It's still strange," she commented, looking at Ix, who was hunched in her many layers of coats and sweatshirts. "I'm not used to the cold affecting me."
Ix's teeth could only chatter in reply. Snow clung to her hat and dripped down the front of her shirt; she'd taken a snowball right to the face during their earlier snowball fight and it was starting to take its toll on her.
Charlotte grinned. "Alright, we've seen enough of the courtyard; want to go get cocoa?" She checked her watch surreptitiously; the timing couldn't have been better.
Ix grinned and nodded, and Charlotte looped her arm through Ix's. They shuffled through the snow and back to the door; once inside, they stomped their feet to remove the last clinging flakes before setting off in a random direction. Despite their frozen hands, they pulled their gloves off, intertwining their fingers as they walked.
When they entered Rudi's, the pub was strangely empty. The only person inside was the bartender, Grace, who already had two steaming mugs of cocoa ready on the bar. She gave the agents a knowing smile before disappearing into the kitchen.
Ix looked around, at the dim lighting, the candles flickering on the tables, and Charlotte's face. Though Charlotte's pale cheeks were already flushed from the cold, a hint of embarrassment was beginning to creep up to her ears.
"Lottie," she said slowly, "what's going on?"
Charlotte picked up the two steaming mugs and carried them over to a table draped with a dark red cloth. She set them down before hurrying to pull a chair out for Ix.
"Lottie—"
"Here, sit," Charlotte said, gesturing to the chair. Ix sat, looking up at Charlotte curiously.
Charlotte took one of Ix's hands between her own. "Faolan Saibhir," she said slowly, careful to get the pronunciation right. "I have something very important I'd like to ask you."
Ix's heart was in her mouth as Charlotte slowly sank to one knee, reaching into her pocket. Her eyes went wide and she let go of Ix's hand. "Oh god." She began patting herself down frantically, tearing her coat off and shaking it, turning pockets inside-out. "I lost the ring!"
With shaking hands, Ix pulled her wand from her belt and flicked it. "Accio ring."
She and Charlotte looked at each other, equal looks of sheepish, nervous excitement on their faces as they waited. After a very, very long minute, the box came zooming into Ix's hand and she passed it over to Charlotte, who laughed and opened it to reveal a wide tungsten band engraved with a lover's knot.
"Faolan Saibhir," Charlotte said again, "will you marry me?"
Ix slid down to the floor so she was level with Charlotte, and cupped her face in her hands. They kissed, the box slipping out of Charlotte's hands as she wrapped her arms around Ix's neck.
"Yes," Ix whispered, finally pulling away.
Just very sweet! I like how slow and calm and quiet this is, compared to the other prompts. The losing-the-ring thing is the one moment of heightened action—a bit cliched, but I like that Ix ends up solving the problem almost immediately, and then they just get on with it like nothing happened.
—doctorlit, liking weather variety in the Courtyard, too
I knew the ring-losing is a huge cliché, but I do like subverting those. You think it would have been better without?
These sorts of stories are so short, it's a little too easy to have nothing happen at all. No, I think it's better with it in, especially with the creative and unexpected solution.
—doctorlit
That was lovely and just plain good fluff.
When's the wedding?
On second reading, I noticed and liked the little bits of description, like the things with the hint of embarrassment and the intertwined hands.
I liked the accio ring bit and how the thing showed up after a "very, very long minute".
- Tomash
((Beta'd by Iximaz. Thunks!)
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1AI2Hs52mU2a0kKu-mk0oVNomajzKF8Z74ZaJaBI_XeQ/edit?usp=sharing
I called this turning out to be a dream before I finished reading it, but I didn't expect it to be a dream of real events. Everything seemed to be going so perfectly and easily for Daichi (headband aside) that I didn't believe it could be real. Makes the ending even more of a surprise, firstly that it really did happen, and secondly for the sudden dark mood of Daichi's present. I'm not quite sure why it's driving Daichi to drink, considering it was such a nice, calm dream, but maybe not all the dreams of his past he's having are so nice?
—doctorlit, whiplashed
The reason is, he's now in the PPC. And, he had his wife die in front of him, he drinks to try and forget his past.
(And, this mean you like it?)
I'm pretty anti-substance abuse, so the alcohol bit getting thrown in at the end pretty much keeps me from really liking it, but it is still a well-made story.
—doctorlit, teetotaler
I like that for all Daichi's flustered around Akira, they still are comfortable enough around each other to tease and joke around.
The headband being put on backwards was a nice touch, especially when Akira fixed it near the end.
(The Aviator: "Hey, I thought the heartbroken drunk was my archetype!")
Must make it more tragic. Must make it as tragic as yours.
(Daichi blows a raspberry in The Aviator's general direction.)
So, up until the final bits, I'd thought this was a bit from Daichi's backstory. I was expecting to the ending to be him getting rejected because he was asking for marriage because this was (it seemed) the first date.
And then it turned out it was a dream.
Poor guy.
In retrospect, the bit about everyone being overjoyed was also a noticeable hint.
Style note "on his Uchiha clan attire and his headband on" is echoing. Not sure if it's actually wrong, it just sounds weird to me
Also, ", 'nother" needs fixing, maybe in a different way than I just proposed.
I'd suggest rewording "Fellow clansmen around him were overjoyed, seeing someone they knew extremely happy, it was almost instinctual." to something like "Fellow clansmen around him were overjoyed because they saw someone they knew extremely happy. It was almost instinctual."
- Tomash
Well, it technically is. Since it's a dream of his past/nightmare. So it actually did happen. (Multiple dates happened, implied)
Thanks for the suggestions though!
The events of the dream actually happened. I misread that ending some.
(and I figured everything was super-sudden because being that flustered when asking someone for a date wouldn't typically be a thing if you were planning to propose to them?)
- Tomash
Yeah, but he was extremely nervous, ergo him being flustered easily.
((This is unbeta'd and possibly slightly sadder than the other prompts. I'm sorry.))
"You OK?" Cinnabar asked as she entered her RC. Theo was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at a holoprojector that Cinnabar had never seen in the room before.
Not looking away from the scene playing on the holoprojector Theo shook his head. "You know how I said my left eye records just about everything I see?"
"Yeah." Cinnabar replied as she moved around both Theo and the holoprojector to sit next to her partner, as she did so she noticed Theo had been crying, a rare thing for the Mandalorian Cyborg.
"Well, there are special times that I'm able to keep. When I was still in my 'verse some of my crew used to edit the recordings so that it was more like a third person video than just a first person view from my eye." Theo explained, still watching the scene. "And of all of those scenes, this one..." He broke down crying again, unable to finish his sentence.
Cinnabar looked at the holoprojector, the scene showed two figures, one obviously Theo and another, from what Cinnabar could remember a Zabrak Force user, staring out across a beautiful world, rolling green fields and hills gave way to snow-capped mountains in the background. Turning her attention back to the two figures Cinnabar saw, and heard, Theo kneeling down, a ring appearing from one of the compartments in his gauntlet as he said "Pariya, will you marry me?"
The force user, Pariya, looked down and smiled. "You are aware it is highly unusual for a Jedi to marry, especially to someone who works for the Empire?"
Theo, in the video, chuckled. "Since when have you been a usual Jedi?"
Pariya laughed. "That is very much true."
"Well?"
Cinnabar almost jumped as the line was said twice, almost in perfect sync. Once was by the slightly worried, but still happy Theo in the video and the other was from a much sadder voice in real life. Turning from her thoughts to the video she realised she'd missed part of this Pariya's response.
"-course you dolt. Stuff those uppity Jedi Masters back on Tython. I'll happily marry you."
The video cut back to the beginning, just two figures standing at the edge of a grand complex of buildings admiring the view. Cinnabar looked at Theo. "You really were married?" She asked, despite already knowing the answer.
Theo's vision broke away from the video and he stared at Cinnabar. "Yes. Today would have been our tenth anniversary."
((Fin.))
((So since I've written the original prompt, I've wanted to write a almost-companion piece to it. And, well, here it is for your enjoyment unbeta'd, but hopefully not unloved.))
Pariya looked over the view before her. The rolling green plains of Alderaan were dotted with the occasional animal but thankfully this bit had been, so far anyway, untouched by the civil war, while the snow capped mountains rose up in the distance. Here on the balcony the sounds of the rebuilding works were quietened, making it an ideal spot for the Zabrak Jedi to meditate whenever she visited Alderaan and House Teral in particular.
Her current meditations were broken off by the sound of a ship coming to land at the small spaceport House Teral had set up, mostly for the construction efforts. This ship however carried an altogether different cargo, six of what Pariya knew to be the best Bounty Hunters in the business, and it was because of one of them that she was here today.
Theo was not surprised that she was already waiting for him as he arrived on the balcony, "I am sorry for my lateness your Jedi Master-ness." he said sarcastically. "And I have important news for you." This second sentence was said with a bit more seriousness.
"Oh?" Pariya asked as she leaned into Theo for a kiss. "While I do love seeing you again, as I enjoy all our time together, I must ask if Alderaan is really the best place for this. You know the trouble we could get in if one of the lesser royals decides to talk." She snuggled slightly into the Mandalorian's grasp, wrapping his arms around her as she did so.
"They won't." Theo assured her, resting his chin on the back of her head, carefully avoiding the horns. "But I asked to meet you here because I know you prefer it to our normal rendezvous's, especially Hoth and Tatooine."
"That's true. So what is it that's so important?" Pariya asked, as Theo extricated himself from her, so that he was now standing by her side.
Taking a deep breath, Theo looked once again at Pariya, a smile creeping onto his face as he studied her face yet again. With a swift movement he got down onto one knee, one of the spare ammo compartments in his gauntlet popping open to deposit a ring into his hand. Holding the ring up to her Theo asked. "Pariya, will you marry me?"
Pariya gasped in shock before looking down at Theo and smiled. "You are aware it is highly unusual for a Jedi to marry, especially to someone who works for the Empire?"
Theo chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. "Since when have you been a usual Jedi?"
Pariya laughed in response, before looking back down at Theo, a large grin on her face. "That is very much true..." She trailed off.
"Well?" Theo asked, slightly worried although hoping that the look on Pariya's face meant he didn't have to be.
"What do you think? Of course you dolt." Pariya replied, still smiling and sounding over the moon. "Stuff those uppity Jedi Masters back on Tython. I'll happily marry you." With that she enveloped Theo in a hug, momentarily forgetting that he was still kneeling down and letting out a little squeal as they both tumbled to the ground.
((Fin.))
((Tried to make it so that you don't have to look up any Star Wars stuff to really enjoy the piece, but at the same time knowledge of Star Wars, and the Old republic in particular can give you extra pieces of insight into the piece. I was originally going to include a little bit at the end involving the crew of Theo's ship, however I felt it took away from the rest of piece and would potentially require wiki-diving to fully understand it so I removed it.))
Ah, a different take on the prompt. Very interesting. I like both the "original" as a straightforward proposal scene with the hint of foreshadowing by mentioning that it takes place on Alderaan, as well as the "flashforward" version where we see the emotional aftermath. The recording eye gives Cinnabar the chance to experience the flashback in the same time as the reader, letting our reactions parallel each other.
One thing that does feel like a discrepancy is when Pariya, in the second story, says she doesn't want to be seen together. She says this right after kissing Theo, and right before drawing him into a hug. I suspect you meant for this to be contradictory, with her actions giving the lie to her words, but it still felt a little too blatantly off to me.
—doctorlit, putting off any diplomatic missions to Alderaan any time soon
With regards to Pariya's actions, you're right. The reason she says that is because they're both fairly influential figures on opposites sides of the war, so not only are they meant to be trying to kill each other if they see each other, they also have a lot at stake to lose if they're relationship is found out. They've both agreed that it is worth the risks, but normally they try and minimise the risks as much as possible, a relatively open meeting like this is a lot more risky than all the other meetings they've had since the war broke out (again).
Nova
I don't have any coherent opinions on the writing, other than that I liked reading it.
I'll admit to not knowing when in the Star Wars timeline there was both an Empire and a non-trivial organization of Jedi, but that wasn't important to the story.
- Tomash
Right in the feels box. I love it!
The gut punch that is the last line really sells this whole piece. Bravo.
I knew I wanted to end with that line but getting there, especially the video bit, had to be re-written three or four times before I was happy with it. It also seemed to change planet each time I re-wrote it, but I think having it on Alderaan (for those who didn't recognise the planet I was trying to describe) actually works really well.
Events like this are one of the things I love about the PPC.
I’m afraid I’ll sit out on this, because I probably can’t fit a proposal into the story arc intended for Androia and Hieronymus, and since I have family over here for the weekend, reading and commenting will have to wait.
HG
I may not get a chance to comment on these individually, but I am reading and enjoying them all. Keep it up!
~Neshomeh
...fussing over details, doing, undoing, and redoing her work until she was satisfied. Sonia put down her hairbrush and examined her reflection. Her long brown hair, normally tied up in a messy bun, was braided to perfection and fell over her left shoulder. Her riding tunic was impeccably clean and her armour had been polished to a mirror shine. Her riding boots were also waxed to perfection— polished to the point where she could almost see her reflection in them. She then applied a tiny bit of perfume to her neck and sat up straighter.
She looked as if she had just stepped out of a royal family portrait. Perfect.
The Pegasus Knight then grabbed the little velvet case resting on her vanity and gently opened it. A beautiful silver ring glinted back at her in the soft light of her bedroom. She and Harris had been seeing each other for years, now. They had grown closer with every passing day despite being somewhat hostile to each other the first time they had met. She grew to know him... like him... and love him. Oh, she could go on and on about him: enthusiastic, charming, gentle, well-spoken, polite— if spectacularly maladroit at times. He had opened up to her and she to him; Sonia could not imagine a day without seeing him now.
She stood up, pocketed the case, and took a deep breath. Gods, this was difficult. She knew his answer already— so why was this so nerve-wracking...?
Sonia had barely stepped into the RC’s living room when Harris burst through the door and skid to a halt when he saw her.
“Harris?”
“I, uh.” He did a very poor job at concealing the wooden box he was holding. “S-Sonia! I didn’t expect to see you, uh. Here. Now.”
“In our RC?”
“Uh...” He swallowed nervously. “Y-you look beautiful, Sonia... um... are we planning something tonight?”
It was the Pegasus Knight’s turn to gulp nervously. “I... wanted to discuss something extremely important.” She noticed his hands tighten around the box he was carrying. Could it be...? Regardless. She had practiced for this moment. Sonia approached Harris and took out the velvet case. “Harris Frost,” she said slowly as to keep the shaking out of her voice, “I have been at your side for well over six years now... and you, at mine. We’re already close— and I would like to make us closer.” She slowly bent down to one knee and presented the case to Harris, fighting back the sudden urge to run away. “Will you marry me?”
There. It was done.
“I— I was...” Harris also got to his knees and brusquely opened his box. A gold ring slipped out and clattered to the floor. “I was going to propose too...” he said hastily, quickly snatching up the ring before it could roll away. He held up the ring, offering it to her. “Sonia, yes. With all my heart, yes. I— I made you this ring... like, all by myself... Will you...?”
“Harris, I...” Sonia stared at the ring, then at Harris’ earnest face. “Yes.”
She threw her arms around him and pulled him close.
---
(Just de-lurking for a moment to post a response. I couldn't resist.
Laters!)
This was nice! Very simple and basic, but very nice to see Harris get a moment that goes right, for once.
I can't remember: was Sonia a character we saw published before, or is she newer?
—doctorlit, Frosty sometimes
The double proposal at the same time is just—augh, my heart.
(We've been missing you, dude.)
Dawn woke up slowly. She was warm, at first, but then the aches set in: her head, her shoulder, both her knees, even one of her hands--she wasn't sure how it had happened, but she wanted the warmth back. Groaning, she curled up--ouch, no, why--and tried to fall back asleep.
"You're awake," observed a familiar voice. Dawn groaned again and pulled the covers over her head--which left her calves exposed to the chill in the air. What? "Good. We should leave soon."
"Why're my blankets short?" Dawn asked. She didn't care that it came out slurred; she wasn't about to put more effort into moving her jaw than was absolutely necessary. No way. "M'cold."
"They are shock blankets from the USS Enterprise," T'Zar replied. Her voice went just the tiniest bit dry as she continued, "You cut them in half last month to make a poncho."
Dawn remembered that. It was the warmest poncho she'd ever had. Completely worth it, apart from how cold her feet were getting.
There was no way she was getting back to sleep now. Dawn turned onto her back, redistributing the (very, very orange) blanket and trying to convince herself to sit up.
Mission. They were on a mission. It wasn't even on an ice planet, despite the chill, but Dawn could remember falling the day before, rolling--
She grimaced and sat up, tucking the blanket around her. "You did pretty much everything to set us up yesterday, didn't you? Camp, and that? The blanket?"
"Yes," replied T'Zar, and Dawn remembered T'Zar supporting her down the hills, setting up a makeshift camp without complaint, convincing Dawn (pretty easily) to lie down in the middle of it, even wrapping the blanket around her and--to Dawn's great amusement--using a phaser to heat up rocks for further warmth. Nothing like an actual TOS Vulcan mimicking Sulu's TOS moves to bring back Dawn's thoughts of how awesome this partnership was, even five months in.
Now T'Zar held out a cup. "Hot tea," she explained, and waited patiently for Dawn to untangle a hand so she could take it. "There is also oatmeal and pancakes, and I succeeded in finding the honey jar you believed lost."
Dawn rested the camping mug against her knee and stared at T'Zar, only looking away to spot the pancakes--apparently reheated from the stock Dawn had made...was it only two days ago? Was it even two days ago?--and the oatmeal, still dry in the jar.
"Marry me," she said fervently. Well, she thought it was going to be fervently, inasmuch as she'd thought about it at all before she'd said it; in practice, she sounded tired and a little plaintive. Also a bit hoarse--well, she'd talked a lot yesterday.
The Vulcan froze, more obviously startled than Dawn had seen before, and then one of her eyebrows ticked up. "I...had not thought you interested. Moreover, you are not a Vulcan; while Vulcan-alien marriages have occurred, they remain extremely rare--"
"Whoa, hey, whoa." Dawn reluctantly freed her other hand to rub at her eyes. "Slow down. A lot."
T'Zar closed her mouth, but her gaze remained intense.
"I'm, I'm not, I mean--" Dawn took a breath, inhaling steam from her tea--hm, rosehip--and let it out slowly, trying to gather her thoughts. "It's...it's an expression. The way I used it. I don't actually say it much, but--it really is an expression."
"Explain."
"Uh--" Dawn frowned, cupping her hands around the mug in an attempt to keep them warm. "It's...like, when someone's really grateful, or they've been surprised with something good? So they say 'marry me' as kind of...kind of like saying 'I think you're really, really amazing right now'? Something like that. I don't normally say it, but I've been seeing it around, so...And, I mean, you're really awesome right now. So. But I'm not actually looking to get married right now, and I'd definitely want some dating first. A lot of dating. Serious dating." Dawn caught up to her words and made a face. "I'm just going to...stop talking about this now, okay? Except to add that I'm actually only sixteen, which for my time period and culture is way too young to get married. Really."
"...ah." T'Zar considered it, then nodded. "I...appreciate your presence as well. Drink your tea," she added when the human only gaped at her. "We must leave within the next thirty-four minutes."
"Uh-huh," Dawn said intelligently, and began convincing her arms to lift.
*
Six years later, T'Zar redirected her obnoxiously energetic current partner out the door of the RC with the reminder of some task to be done, and turned back in time to see her former partner sit down heavily with a sigh of relief.
"Marry me," the human said once she had let her head loll back against the couch.
T'Zar raised an eyebrow, mostly for effect. "I appreciate the sentiment, Dawn, as I did the other four times you asked, but I am disinclined to acquiesce to your request at this juncture."
Dawn raised her head again, startled delight spreading across her face; then, she burst into laughter that didn't stop until she was out of breath.
"Never change," she told T'Zar once she could speak again. "You're amazing."
It was probably illogical to feel so pleased over causing such a large outburst of emotion; even so, T'Zar didn't prevent the slight uptick of the corners of her mouth.
Life among humans was rife with illogic, but after a decade in the PPC, T'Zar had almost grown accustomed. Visible hints of emotion seemed a small price to pay to ease relationships and prevent large displays of negative emotions.
It was only logical.
---
(Unedited, unbetaed, finished very late in the day, but hopefully a fun read! ~Z)
I like the presentation of Vulcan emotions, and the source of the misunderstanding. I also like the time skip that shows how T'Zar has grown more used to human idioms and behavior over time.
What's particularly well done is how you presented Dawn's injuries in the opening scene, explaining it to us with details spread here and there throughout that scene. much better and more natural than simply stating that she was hurt on a mission, even without specifically saying what happened.
—doctorlit, often logical
and from what I know of the species, it was accurate.
I also liked the bit where Dawn had to awkwardly explain that figure of speech.
- Tomash
Not really much else to say! It was a fun piece that showed how well these two get along as partners.
T'Zar's reaction to the first 'proposal' was awesome. Where's the Kudos button when you need it?
((So I took some liberties with this. Sue me, it's what popped into my head. Concrit is appreciated!))
The Aviator paced in circles around his TARDIS' controls, goggles dangling from his left hand. In his right, he held a piece of paper covered in sprawling Circular Gallifreyan, scrawled hastily and crossed out many times.
"I've known you for ten years now," he muttered, running his fingers through his hair. "And I know that's not very long, but we've been through a lot together and I think it's time we... Urk." He balled the paper up and threw it across the room, where it landed in a pile among other crumpled sheets.
"Mum?" Elanor poked her head around the corner. "Everything alright?"
The Aviator looked up and gave his daughter a tired smile. "Everything's fine, kiddo," he said, leaning against the navigation panel.
The TARDIS hummed, and the Aviator's ears reddened. "That's perfectly fine!" he snapped.
Elanor laughed and came over to slip her hand into his. "Doesn't sound fine to me," she said. "But, um, why're you so worried about planning a surprise for the Detective? I thought you two were..." She trailed off and gestured vaguely.
"It's not just any surprise, Elanor." The Aviator reached into his pocket and produced a small box.
Elanor's mouth fell open and she looked up at the Aviator, eyes wide. "YOU'RE GONNA ASK HIM TO—"
"Shh!" the Aviator hissed, looking around frantically for signs of Zeb. The last thing he wanted was for his partner to overhear and spoil everything.
"I'm gonna get a dad?!" Elanor whispered, beginning to bounce in place.
"Maybe, Ellie, maybe," the Aviator said. "The Detective is... well. You know what he's like."
"But he loves you," Elanor said, folding her arms. "And you love him. Right?"
The Aviator looked up at the ceiling, as if searching for the right words written among the tangle of cables. "I mean—"
"Right?" Elanor repeated.
"Right," the Aviator said, "but it's not that simple. Life's not a fairy tale where as long as you're in love, everything will be okay. Both people have to be compatible, both have to want the same things out of life, and... while Dee's talked about the possibility of us making it official, he's been hurt in the past. We both have."
Elanor pulled away to sit on the chair facing the navigation panel, putting her feet up on the Aviator's knees. "Well, why not just ask him?" she said. "Not like you haven't talked about it before, right?"
The Aviator crossed his arms uncomfortably. "Elanor, I appreciate you trying to help, but this is something I have to figure out for myself, alright?"
Elanor's face fell, but she nodded. "Alright," she said, getting up and trudging to the door. She looked back before she left. "Promise I won't tell Uncle Zeb," she said with a faint smile.
"Thanks, kiddo," the Aviator said, blowing her a kiss. Once she'd shut the door, he let out a long string of swears, collapsing in her recently-vacated seat.
He pulled the box out of his pocket and opened it, staring glumly at the simple gold band.
The TARDIS hummed again.
"I know he does, baby," the Aviator sighed, lightly touching the ring. "I just gotta work up the courage first."
This was cute! A small, short scene, but I like that we get a good range of the Aviator's thoughts on the matter, and that he's getting support from both Elanor and the TARDIS. I'm also amused by Elanor's excitement over getting a dad, especially since it goes against the stereotype of kids not liking their step-parent in fiction.
—doctorlit, promising not to tell Zeb
I think, by this point, Elanor would already see the Detective as another father figure in what looks like a rapidly expanding roster. ^^; That is, of course, assuming Aegis and I continue on that timeline.
Awww...
It took me a moment to figure out this was the next Aviator, which was why the pronouns had changed.
Elanor is cute.
I like that the TARDIS is encouraging Ave here.
I wonder how this'll play out.
- Tomash
"You dolt! Stop your dithering and just say it!"
Elanor's... tricky for me. Where do I find the right balance of cute and realistic? I'll find it somehow. :P
One character asks another to marry them, in any context possible (meaning in whatever context you want, though someone asking someone else to marry them anytime they get a chance is also an option...)
~Z
Finch's optical sensor narrowed and glared over at Bingle in a new kind of disgust.
'This is one of the stupidest ideas you-ve ever had.'
'Alright, then, Finch,' said Bingle, narrowing his own eyes, nodding, looking down at a sheet of paper in his hands.
'Will you marry me with knowledge of the benefits of, ahem:' he raised the sheet up to his face, glanced at Finch from behind it, and continued reading. 'An extra day off per annum, permission to an RC of slightly larger than usual size, a free "do not disturb" sign, and - and - a single, guaranteed free cake for the wedding.' He looked over at it, raised an eyebrow at Finch.
'Bingle, no.'
'Free cake, Finch, for absolutely no price at all!' Bingle exclaimed, waving the sheet in Finch's optical sensor. 'That costs absolutely, literally no money, at all! In the most literal sense possible! Zero!'
'I had bloody figured that,' Finch hissed, shoving the sheet away.
Bingle shook his head and folded his arms and dramatically raised his eyebrows. 'Free cake, Finch. It might be chocolate, or even maybe have some form of ice cream or other dessert on it!'
'Why do you keep emphasising the cake? I can-t even eat.'
'Oh, it's not just cake.'
Finch pointed at Bingle, at his sheet, with an actuator. His optical sensor twisted and twirled as he said: 'You know, Bingle, there are lots of people out there for whom marriage is a very important event of deep religious meaning, with real spiritual consequences and relevance. You-re really bloody degrading them, right now.'
'Finch, I have absolutely no idea what you mean by that, and that is mainly because I was paying you no attention at all because I was thinking of all the benefits - free benefits - like cake - free cake - we could get just by entering a legally binding marriage for the rest of our lives or until our relationship degrades into apathy and occasional violent bursts of arguing and we commit an inevitable divorce, tearing a great schism between our once peaceful families.'
'No! That is so - that is so bloody dumb!' Finch ran an actuator down his optical sensor. 'You always come up with incredibly horrible ideas like this, and then you always try and drag me into them!'
Bingle wrapped his hands together and thought deeply. 'I suppose you will be saying no.'
'No! Ask someone else!'
'Maybe I just will.'
'Okay!'
'And we'll enjoy it.'
'Good!'
'That free cake and those benefits, all for free. We'll love it.'
'I bloody hope you do.'
'Okay, then,' Bingle said, eyes dramatically narrowed, stepping backwards down the hall. 'You'll regret not taking me up on this, you know.'
'No, I won-t.'
Bingle's slow shake of his head suggested that, yes, Finch would regret not taking him up on that.
Bingle returned and Finch didn't regret a single thing. Bingle walked over, heavily sat down, back arched. He looked like he had been crumpled up and thrown away. His eye did not just look black; it looked lopsided.
'DMS, right?'
Bingle nodded.
'Already married, right?'
'Very married. Also, I suspect she was some form of... dragon. Or minotaur, perhaps.' He reached around his mouth, feeling for any remaining teeth. 'Either way, she was capable of both fire-breathing and goring.'
'Right out of a dramatic mission where their relationship was put to its very limits, right?'
'The Ironic Overpower hasn't liked me very much today, Finch.'
'It hasn-t.'
'You know, in my defence, out of all the doors I knocked, I was only beaten up once.'
Bingle exhaled, Finch groaned.
'If you really want to bloody try it,' said Finch, a claw on his optical sensor. 'I will do it. Because we-re friends. And I pity you. And I-m sure that cake is bloody delicious.'
Bingle glanced at Finch. 'Really?'
Finch glanced right back, behind that claw. 'Sure, Bingle.'
'You know,' said Bingle, heftily propping himself against the wall and looking at the corner between the wall and the ceiling. 'Now that I think of it, knocking on the doors of multitudinous people I've never met before to ask if they wanted to get married for cheap benefits wasn't even a very good idea, was it?'
'I can-t believe I suggested something like that.'
Bingle nodded and said: 'You really ought to be more responsible, you know.'
As usual, I love the interaction between these two. The voices you've given both really step out of the screen and speak in my mind.
But my favorite part, by far, is the list of barest bare-bones "benefits" the Flowers confer on married couples. It gets across so much of the Flowers' focus on work, and their lack of understanding of romantic pair-bonding, all in a single sentence. Well done!
—doctorlit, also disdainful of romantic pair bonding, though not a Flower
and am also not a Flower.
I sort of wrote this with the distinct idea of twisting the prompt into creating something that was as unromantic, non-sentimental as possible, with a bunch of characters I made to be as non-shippable as possible.
Maybe it wasn't entirely free of sentiment, but that was more directed at the loyalty between the two fellows, and I do certainly personally idealise loyalty and comradeship above romantic lovey hug-time.
I'm glad that you enjoyed their voices - I do consider dialogue and characterisation to be my better areas within writing, and I'm just plain happy that managed to sort of stick out, there.
But, ey, cheers for the review, ey?
about the idea of getting married for the free cake.
This wasn't a story that made me fall over laughing, but I liked the concept and thought it was good.
I assume it's deliberately unclear if those two actually get married?
- Tomash
it would probably go just about as well as the rest of their plans tend to go.
((Probably not canon. Who knows if I'll ever do anything with these characters? Thank you to Caliope for betaing.))
Farah Tahar and Kk'kttak arrived in their new RC within a few minutes of each other. Neither of them had been were happy about this turn of events, as could be seen from the near-growled "You" they'd greeted each other with. Fortunately, Farah had figured out that she could separate the bed and found the second set of bedding before Kk'kttak had arrived, which averted the possibility of having to sleep anywhere near him.
The newly-minted agents spent the next few hours wandering in and out of the RC, getting books, food, weapons, and anything else that might come in handy that they hadn't picked up in their month or so in Headquarters. They rather carefully stuck to a near-nonverbally arranged split of the RC and its storage space (Farah got the half nearest the door). After they'd finished their shopping, Farah and Kk'kttak both settled in and started reading. Farah was making sure to face away from Kk'kttak, ignoring him aggressively. Kk'kttak followed suit for a while, since he didn't want to start anything, even though he thought Farah was being insane.
About two books later, it was rather obvious Farah wasn't going to make the first move here, so Kk'kttak spoke up.
"You. Hani," he said.
Farah turned her head and glared. "Yes, kif?"
"The Flower-princes have given us a duty. I could do without worrying about revenges and status-games. Will you marry me?"
Farah's mouth froze open, and she took a moment to process that. "Did you ask 'Will you marry me'?" she finally asked.
"What? No! I didn't propose ... how would that even work?"
"Rephrase the question." Farah said, and added a muttered "This gods-rotted translator..."
"Would you accept a long-term partnership with me?" Kk'kttak said slowly, making sure of each word.
Farah shook her head. "Not clearer," she commented. "I know some main-kifish. I'll turn the translator off for a moment. Then I'll need both phrasings."
Kk'kttak nodded. "Very well."
"Translator off next two sentences," Farah said at her flashpatch.
She then paid close attention to the series of mainly clicks and taps that came out of Kk'kttak's throat. She recognized the words, except for the important one, the word her translator kept tripping up on. She had, however, encountered the root in the kif term for "central clearing".
The status markers were also not ones she'd ever heard. They seemed derived from "-[to an equal]", but what were those extra clicks for? They usually meant "esteemed", which acted to indicate somewhat higher relative status than usual, but how did that make any sense here?
Then it hit her. That was probably meant to be something like the form of address for a fellow crewmember ... the way the term was understood on, say, hani ships, not kif ones. Maybe he had actually learned something about how other species thought like she’d been told. No wonder the translator had been having fits! Coinages tended to throw even these very advanced ones off, evidently.
After that, she turned to puzzling out what "partnership" might have been. She started pacing back and forth across her side of the room, turning the word and anything reasonably related over in her throat the best she could. A few minutes later, she'd guessed that something like "collaboration" might have been a good translation, and decided to test her theory.
"You," she said to get Kk'kttak's attention.
"Yes?"
"Would two ships agreeing to jointly pirate anyone small who flies by and split the loot be a 'long-term partnership'?"
"Of course."
"So what you want is that we work together and don't try to kill each other or one-up each other to the Flowers?"
"Yes. Mirrad-[learned one] said this was how most agents worked."
Farah hmphed. "Most agents didn't blow up my ship."
"Your ship also destroyed mine."
"Your ship started it, you pirate!" Farah howled, claws shooting out from her fingertips.
"It is our way, and was mine," Kk'kttak said, holding up his empty hands in the traditional gesture of placation.
Farah took a few deep breaths and willed her claws back in. They would, she reminded herself, probably only going to be working together until she explained the situation to the Flowers. She probably shouldn't ruin her chances by getting arrested for beating her new partner to a pulp, no matter how satisfying it would be.
She still wasn't quite sure how to respond to the offer, and so she went with a phrase she'd heard several times from kif comms, including as the closing on the last transmission before Tahar's Ambition was blown to bits a tenth of a light-minute from Meetpoint dock. "I will consider your status," she said slowly, reproducing the sounds of an alien language as well as she could with her different anatomy.
She turned back to her reading, restoring the earlier atmosphere of the RC.
Then, as an afterthought, she looked up. "Tahar out," she added curtly, in hani this time.
It seemed fitting.
(( - Tomash ))
I like how you play with the alien languages here, both in the physical pronunciation, and in how the translator attempts to present figures of speech from it. I also like that the pre-existing conflict between the two agents isn't spelled out right away, but sets the mood throughout the whole piece nonetheless.
I could have done with physical descriptions of both agents, since neither seems human, and I don't know what they're from.
—doctorlit, going to review all of these, hopefully
I'm glad you liked what I did with the languages. Interspecies communication issues are a thing I like reading about, and it's nice to see that I've managed to pull it off.
It's also good that I managed to get a general mood of conflict going, since I wanted that so the "proposal" would seem way out of left field in a potentially-funny way.
You have a point about the lack of description. If/when I go back and edit this, I should find a good spot to add some (para 1. could use a long sentence's worth of physical descriptions.)
Yes, neither agent is human. They're both from the Chanurverse, which is technically part of the Alliance-Union 'verse (but not tightly integrated), all by C.J. Cherryh. Quick summary off the top of my head: Farah is roughly an antropomorphic lion and wearing some sort of loose trousers (probably in black because PPC), and Kk'kttak has a rat-like face, a very thin throat, smells somewhat of amonia, and already had rather concealing black robes when he got here.
- Tomash
I thought the proposal seemed weirdly sudden—I loved how you made it the result of a translation error!
I only noticed one error—"Neither of them had been were happy" in the first paragraph.
Thanks!
- Tomash
That sounds like a good prompt. (Though I won't be able to work on it at the moment, exam week and all.)
How many prompts would it be, you reckon? I recall, Seaturtle tried this before, and he sort of, sent out a small splattering of prompts, for more choice and all. Maybe that'd be interesting, and I don't think it would entirely ruin the idea, if the central concept is just 'get people writing'. Maybe all the prompts could be themed, if we want to be cute. Could ask a couple people around for prompts or such if that's the case. I might have a couple prompt ideas, anyhow, for that.
Or, uh, I dunno. Either way, I like it!
I'd say one would be good for indecisive folk like me, y'know?
They could definitely be themed! That'd help out a ton. Maybe a Christmas theme for now.
I'm thinking for the Prompters though, they could be anyone in the PPC who thinks they got a good prompt going on. What do you think?
A while back there was even a prompt game going on, where people could basically request prompts and be given them, whereupon they'd write a short or not-so-short scene that filled it. It was really fun, and that's actually how I reached my NaNo goal this year--I asked Ix to give me prompts and aimed to write a double drabble or so for each. I actually have a whole Gdoc full of prompt fills I did from back when we first did this; it's a really, really great way to indulge yourself with AUs, ships that are never going to sail in canon but would be fun to explore, scenelets that wouldn't normally get written, character building with new characters, scenarios that you probably shouldn't fit into your agents' canon even if they could somewhat plausibly fit within the PPC setting...pretty much anything, really.
My actual point with this? Yeah, I support the idea of writing prompts, even a less writer-specific version (which, well, at that point you get to see what different people do with the same prompt...which also happened sometimes during the prompt game, actually. And happens with the n-monthly concrit thread, come to think of it). Let's do it! Do you have a prompt, Mr. Sprinkles? Since you've brought it up?
(Actually, have we met? I feel like you're part of the influx of recent-ish newbies. In which case, welcome to the Board! Have a belated Welcome Gift. It's in this pastry box, and is probably pastry of some kind. What kind it is depends on what you think of when you open the box...)
~this rambling post has been brought to you by Zingenmir
I was thinking someone (more creative than I am) could announce a prompt every other week or so. I haven't quite planned who that person'll be (could be random), wanted to see if people would agree with the idea first, y'know? It'd be a post on the board every two weeks.
Though, if you've got a prompt on mind, shoot me.
And yeah! I'm a recent newbie, thunks for the croissants!
(I know the rambling struggle. One can never talk enough)
There's nothing stopping you from doing this.
Worst case is that there's no uptake.
- Tomash