Ironically(?), the original scene didn't happen in RP! I was out of the loop a lot due to my friends being in Australia and New Zealand, so I had lots of gaps to fill in for my fic. As I recall, that scene popped into my head more or less in one piece out of the blue, and I wrote it out really fast and shared it before I should have, just to say "hey I'm not dead." In retrospect, that is never a good reason to publish anything. {= )

Hm, the whole story is Jenni Jenni-ing. ^_~ I'm guessing you meant the part with the cords? I had a lot of fun with that. It's probably the main reason I wanted to go through with the rewrite, and I look forward to playing with those sorts of synesthetic impressions more as opportunities arise.

(Side question to any and all: what do your characters look like if you distill their souls down to a few key colors and connotative sense impressions in this fashion? How about favorite canon characters?)

I also enjoyed the absolute irony of the Legilimency bit. Thanks for noticing. ^_^

~Neshomeh

Glad I was able to help you improve! It's still not perfect, but it's definitely better than the original. The main advice I have is just to keep practicing and keep getting concrit - for me there's a lot about writing that you have to learn for yourself.

On the story itself, rather than just in general: there are still a few SPaG issues. In particular watch out for your tenses. There's a couple of places where you switch from past to present and back again.

In some parts your description is great, but in others it feels a bit like you're just saying what happened rather than giving me a sense of it. I'd suggest maybe grounding it more firmly in Issac's point of view, because it feels like it's being told from the perspective of an external observer.

Still, that's a great improvement. Keep it up!

This is both the story we deserve and the story we need right now. ^_^

I contest the assertion that Boromir is more scruffy than Aragorn. Isn't being a rugged, unshaven and filthy Ranger Aragorn's whole character? {; P (OTOH I have a sneaking suspicion this might be a "Very Secret Diaries" reference I'm not getting because it's been too long since I read that, in which case, never mind!)

That's my only critique. The rest of the rewrite is good parody humor, as you say, and I think it does a great job of introducing the lolrandomness to come in a way that doesn't feel obnoxiously lolrandom. Like, I want to know more about this mysterious Interdimensional House of Pancakes! Where did it comes from? How does it work its evil on poor unsuspecting victims like our dear Leggy? Will it strike again? And can I get Swedish pancakes with lingonberry sauce??

Tangent: how in the everloving heck did the original rack up 1,203 reviews? That's mind-boggling! They all seem to be real, and a lot even seem to have actual content!

I'm feeling all nostalgic for the early 2000s now. Therefore, in closing: u rite god, plz rite moar. ^_~

~Neshomeh

It seems to me the best way to improve on your past writing would be to write some totally new stuff. It may not fit this challenge, but that's no reason not to do it anyway. {= )

Also, general PSA to everyone reading, because I've seen more of it than I like recently: Try to avoid negative self-talk. The more you do it, the more you reinforce it to yourself and others, and that's no good. That's not to say don't ever feel bad, and it's not to say don't ask for help and support if you need it. Feeling unhappy sometimes is allowed, and asking for help and support is encouraged! Just don't make a habit of cutting yourself down, that's all.

~Neshomeh will be taking her own advice, because the world is just kinda tough to live in right now and it gets to all of us.

I agree with Nesh - Vania's phasing is intriguing, and could make for some great character interactions. The original, in contrast, gives off an air of 'she got timewarped forward 3 years in a cupboard', which is absolutely not what the new version gives.

That said, her jump to 'I'm going to kill you!' makes her seem rather more edgy than I think you're going for. It has overtones of 'my agent is an UNHINGED PSYCHOPATH who will MURDER YOU for looking at her and EATS BLOOD'. (Selene, get out of my face, I'm writing here.) Like everything else, that can be written well - but it's also a classic Gary-Stu marker for a reason. She gives off completely different vibes to Vania from the original, or to my vague memories of the character.

Of course, you've been around long enough that I know you could carry it off, if that's what you were aiming for, so I'm not concerned. But it is strikingly different.

As you say yourself, Doc is mostly reacting here, so there's not a lot to say; he reads like Doc. Which is good. :)

hS

I haven't re-read the original version yet, so I'm starting out just by talking about the rewrite. I dig it! It introduces a lot of interesting questions about Vania, but also about Doc. He's strangely non-reactive to all the strangeness happening in front of him. Not completely, but just enough to make you wonder what his deal is. He throws himself away from danger, but doesn't cry out; he asks questions about Vania and she confuses him, but he seems to take it more or less in stride. He's not unsettled enough to object to going on the mission with her, at least.

As for Vania, I am very intrigued by the way she snaps in and out of phase, so to speak, and I'd love to know why she can talk about Paul but fails to recognize his name when Doc says it. Very strange! And I definitely don't think it's too dark. I think it rides that line between light enough to be fun and serious enough to have depth very well.

{some minutes later}

So, the older version also does the job of hinting at strange things afoot, but I don't think it does quite as well at drawing me in and making me curious to learn more. Definite improvement. Good job! {= D

~Neshomeh

This monstrosity from just over two years ago (thankfully never published; I cut a bit off the end to make it work as a standalone instead of the longer work it was going to be) No title because I'm terrible with titles and this was never really developed enough to give me ideas.

Millie Kent sat in her final lesson of the day, History (extremely boring; all about how wicked Lord Darkness’s enemies were), clock-watching and wondering, for the hundredth time that week, why she was never allowed to sit next to her friends.

Perhaps it was because Mr Johnson, the deputy head, didn’t like her – and it was he who allocated the seating arrangements.

She certainly didn’t know why he hated her so much – she had heard some rumour of a grudge against her father, but Isaac Kent would never have deliberately hurt anyone’s feelings.

But that was irrelevant – one minute to go…

As the teacher began listing homework, one of the Prefects strolled nonchalantly in, not needing to knock.

In this school, one Prefect was always on duty near the Head’s Office to fetch students or teachers they needed. Millie had put her name forward for the honour of becoming a Prefect, but had been refused.

That was yet another problem with the Deputy Head having a mysterious grudge on her father.

“Millie Kent to Head Office, please.”

She was puzzled by this – although the Head was famously strict, Millie couldn’t think of anything she had done wrong.

“I expect you are wondering why you have been called here, Kent?”

Millie winced at the old-fashioned custom, which she hated, of referring to pupils by their surnames; but she said nothing, and instead nodded.

“Lord Darkness has asked me to select, from the pupils of this school, a companion for his daughter Laura. I have chosen you.”

“But… why? Sir,” she hastily added.

“I think you are a reasonably sensible girl who knows authority when she sees it.”

Millie was stunned by this – the Head was famous for never paying compliments, among other strictnesses.

But she was even more stunned by the idea of being a companion to Lord Darkness’s daughter.

“Suppose – supposing I refused to go, sir?”

He took a moment before he responded, weighing his words carefully.

“I believe your father does part-time secretarial work?”

Casual and irrelevant as the words would seem to an outside observer, Millie shivered with fear.

Her father did indeed do part-time secretarial work. The problem was that some of his customers were dodgy characters, by the sound of things – even secret agents – and if anyone working for Lord Darkness ever got to know of it…

Millie had decided long ago not to think of what would happen then.

Her father wasn’t doing any of this stuff, he had reassured her; in fact, he was only involved in it at all because these people paid him twice the going rate for secretarial work, and he needed money: Millie was the eldest of five children and their mother was long since dead. He had to use this secretarial work to supplement the meagre income from his little newsagent’s shop.

“I just do what I’m told to do, take my money and leave. That’s all, Millie, I swear it’s all.”

And now here was the Head bringing up this matter in what was clearly a threat.

Millie couldn’t possibly let that happen.

“I’m afraid I fail to see the relevance of that to this topic, sir,” she blurted, “but of course I do not mean to refuse this offer – I merely wondered what would happen if I did, sir, but my father… may not grant me permission, I’m afraid, sir.”

The Head smiled a little.

“I am sure that your father won’t refuse, Kent. You may go – in fact,” he went on, glancing at his watch, “you may as well go home – there is only a minute left of lessons. Tell your father that Lord Darkness will send a carriage to your home tomorrow after school.”

Millie dipped her head.

“Thank you, sir,” she said, turning and leaving, suddenly realising that her legs were trembling.

She reached the playground a fraction of a second before the rest of her class.

She knew what she had to do – collect her younger sister, Lizzie, from her first year class – the other three were still in primary school. Her father was too busy to walk her home, so since the age of ten, Millie had gone home with Sarah and Claire next door.

The girls all walked home in bunches – Millie was with most of her third-year class as well as Lizzie and a few other younger siblings.

“What did the Head want?” asked Scarlet, her best friend.

Millie looked suggestively at Lizzie.

“Not here, Scarlet. Tomorrow in the tree.”

Scarlet and Millie had long since discovered the secret of the hollow oak in the corner of the playground, and they used it for secret conversations.

If this isn’t secret, thought Millie, then I don’t know what is!

The bunch of girls passed the primary school and a large crowd of other children came dashing out.

Millie looked for the other three siblings – Jack, aged ten and nearly old enough to go to the boys’ school over the road; Clara, aged seven but somehow expert at guessing how people felt; and little Ruby, who had only just started school.

Five years old.

Five years since Mother died.

Don’t think about it!

They all clustered around Millie and Lizzie and Scarlet, who was lucky enough to be an only child and had no siblings to pester her.

“Are you alright, Millie,” asked Clara, “you seem quieter than normal!”

“Maybe she’s in love,” suggested Jack.

“Yes!” cried Lizzie, who loved everything romantic, “Millie’s in love! Who’s the lucky boy, Millie? Do tell me!”

But Millie shook her head.

“No, I’m not in love,” she said.

“You seem… nervous. Yes, that’s it. You’re nervous. You’ve been offered some new opportunity and you can’t decide whether to take it.”

Clara really was uncannily perceptive.

“Correct as always, Clara.”

There followed a clamour of questions.

Millie knew she couldn’t tell any of them the truth.

“Oh – I’ve been offered… a music scholarship. Someone cancelled at the last moment because their mother was ill and they had to stay at home and look after them – I’ve been asked to take their place – very short notice – I’m leaving tomorrow if I accept.”

Millie tried to shake off the delighted comments – “Oh, you should, really, I think you’ll be fabulous” and the like – and at the same time communicate to Scarlet that she was lying. It wasn’t easy.

But she allowed herself to be “persuaded” to take up the scholarship offer – “only if Father lets me – you know he’d find it very hard without me to help him in the shop…”

Lizzie volunteered for that honour: “Oh! Let me, let me, I’m old enough now…”

And then they were home. Millie unlocked the door and called, “Father! We’re home!” adding to her siblings, “now I’m going to talk to Father about the scholarship – don’t disturb us, please,” removed her shoes and went to Father’s study.

“What is it, Millie dear?”

He was busy.

“Father, my siblings think I’ve come to talk to you about a music scholarship, but I lied – I made that up –“

He looked startled – Isaac Kent had brought his children up never to lie – but Millie pressed on.

“Here’s what really happened – oh, Father, I’m so frightened…”

And she told him the whole story. She ended by saying: “I hope I did right, but I didn’t really feel I had a choice…”

“Millie,” he said, “my darling Millie, you poor girl, I hope I can burden you with the truth. They blackmailed you by threatening me, but when you are at Darkness Castle they will do the exact opposite – if I don’t do what they say they’ll kill you – and they would, too. And they’ll make me spy – there’s a lot of important information passing through my hands, and I’ll have to give it all to them – “

Then Millie was truly terrified.

“But father – what will we do?”

“The only thing we can do is leave.”

So the next morning, Millie found herself taking a note to the Head.

In it was the following:

Dear Mr Brown,

I am sorry to inform you that I and my four youngest children have been taken ill. As Millie has already had the disease in question, there is no risk of infection. I ask that you do not oblige her to attend school today as I need her to look after the five of us and finish packing. Thank you.

Yours sincerely,

Isaac Kent.

This letter was, of course, a lie. None of them were at all ill.

Millie hurried home to prepare for all the packing.

The next few hours were hectic – throwing things into boxes, preparing them to be loaded onto the wagon which was due to take them out of the country.

Finally, half an hour before the wagon was due, they were ready.

Millie went over to the other children, all of whom believed this frantic packing was for a holiday – Father had said he’d “completely forgotten about it” – he was sometimes rather absent-minded, so that wasn’t too unusual, luckily.

“Are you nearly ready?”

They all nodded, clutching bags containing their favourite toys excitedly.

“Why do we need to take the saucepan on holiday?” asked Lizzie.

“Oh… err… The place we’re staying is self-catering, so Father thought it best to take them just in case.”

Clara asked to speak to Millie alone.

Tucked into the small bathroom, Millie waited.

“You’re lying.”

Millie blinked. She was used to Clara’s ‘sixth sense’ by now, but it still surprised her very often.

“About what?” she asked.

“The holiday. We’re not coming home, are we? Oh, and you also lied about the music scholarship.”

Millie didn’t know what to say.

“Go and ask Father,” she choked out, “I’m a bit busy!”

She returned to the others.

“I’m bored!” said Ruby. “Tell me a story, Millie!”

Millie thought quickly.

“Once upon a time, there was a girl called… um… Tamsin and she had two little siblings and a twin brother…”

She scraped along in this ridiculous manner for twenty minutes, and then the doorbell rang. Millie seized the opportunity to escape.

“That’ll be the wagon,” she said, “I’d better go and let the man in.”

She hurried to the door and opened it.

It wasn’t the wagon.

Instead there were two men dressed in what even Millie could recognise as the uniform of Lord Darkness’s footmen.

“Millie Kent?” one of them asked.

“Yes, that’s me. I’ll just go and say goodbye to my family, then I’ll be with you.”

She dashed back.

“Ruby, the scholarship people are here!”

Lizzie and Jack crowded round – Clara must have followed her advice and spoken to Father.

“I’ll write to you every week with the next instalment of the story – I’ll write to all three of you! Goodbye! See you soon!”

Every word felt terrible – she knew she would never come back to this house, and she might never make it to the new house in another country. She knocked on the door of Father’s study.

“Father – they’re here – Lord Darkness’s men – I have to go!”

He gasped – he knew more than the others that he might never see his daughter again.

“Goodbye, Millie. Write often.”

She sighed.

“I will, Father. And Clara? Promise me you won’t worry about me. Ever.”

Clara stared back up at her with her little beady eyes.

“I promise, Millie. And I will see you again.”

Millie turned and left, struggling not to cry.

She picked up her heavy trunk and carried it downstairs.

“I’m ready,” she said, and climbed into the waiting coach.

As it began to move, Millie saw the wagon arrive and her family running out and loading things onto it. She felt a powerful, heart-wrenching urge to dash back and leap up onto the wagon and refuse to move. But she couldn’t do that.

...yeah, ouch. My twelve-year-old self had a complete lack of subtlety and any decent description, and that's just for starters. This is going to be interesting.

Truth be told, I'd love to see more of pre-PPC Thoth at full power.