A repository of everything I write that I care to share, and a place to report my progress and vent my frustrations. Short fiction, nonfiction, and fanfiction have their place here as well.
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My non-fanfiction work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License.
If you have any interest in my work do contact me 8D
Imagine a village oppressed by a fire-breathing dragon.
A knight, who has always lived in a safe village, wants to come in and try to slay the dragon.
The villagers refuse to let him in, saying, “How could you possibly know how to slay a dragon when you’ve never lived with a dragon over your head your entire life?”
The knight says, “Well, I’ve studied dragon slaying for over twenty years and I’ve killed a number of dragons. And for that matter, if you’re so experienced with dragons, why aren’t you making any effort to kill it?”
And then they say, “Why are our dragons any of your business? We don’t need you to SAVE us! And for that matter, why were none of us ever given the opportunity to go to dragon slaying school? Oh, right, because the dragon has been destroying our livelihood for years! Get out of here, privileged scum, we’re better off without being saved by you!”
The knight looks up at the dragon, which is currently burning all the village’s crops, and says, “But you’re still being attacked by that dragon. Look, I have a sword, I can…”
One villager interrupts, “Why do we need YOUR help to slay the dragon? We don’t need to conform to YOUR standards of safety!”
Another says, “A hundred years ago, knights would release dragons on village populations just to slay them, so they would be lauded as heroes! HE BENEFITS FROM THEIR ATROCITIES! How DARE he treat us as beneath him!”
A villager way in the back whispers, “You know, I was just thinking last week that keeping this dragon around isn’t really doing us any good, and since none of us can do it-“
The others shout, “WHY ARE YOU SYMPATHIZING WITH HIM? You want to be a knight too, huh? Is that it? WHY ARE YOU BETRAYING YOUR OWN KIND?”
The knight is unnerved. He says, “Whoa, calm down-”
“We don’t have to calm down just because you TOLD us to! We’re very upset! This dragon’s been here all our lives, tearing them apart, and just because you’ve come down from your high horse to prove yourself by abusing us doesn’t mean we have to listen to you!”
“But all I want to do is help!”
A villager says, “Is that ALL you want? No, that’s never all you want! You probably want us to treat you like a king for it! All you knights are the same! Well, guess what, we don’t need your help. We’re going to gather every village we possibly can, gather dragon slayers from our OWN ranks with our OWN sympathies, and fight this dragon ourselves!”
The same small voice in the back says, “That again? Yes, it’s been done before, and amazingly successfully, but us? We’ve been talking about that for months, but all you guys have been doing is sitting in your homes, whining that you’ve been mistreated by the dragon and saying that knights deserve to be barbecued! No one deserves that, no matter what past their society has! Now that we’ve got a plan, why don’t we-”
“Be quiet!” the villagers yell back at the small voice. “You’re just full of internalized hatred for us and our place in society! We know what we’re doing!”
The knight ponders the situation. “Well, if you guys want, I could help you slay the dragon. Perhaps I can’t do it alone, and perhaps you know the dragon better than I do, but if we work together-”
“Work!” the villagers yell. “This knight’s been groomed from birth for his job, never had to struggle a day in his life, and now he demands that we WORK, as if we don’t know what that means-”
And then the dragon, spying easy, unmoving prey, swooped down and swallowed them all.
As far as name connection goes, should I keep my fan fiction work separate from my original work? That is, should I not be mentioning Ghosts in the Machine/connecting it with stories that will be connected with my name, because it’s a fanfic?
One thing new I tried to do to get myself into writing my stories after months and months of inactivity over my first semester of college was to jump at random between stories. So today I wrote a lot of Queen of Hearts, a little Unidentified, and then some Orientation Deception.
I feel accomplished, but in sort of a crazy way. I think that my body thinks that my sudden writing spurt won’t last forever and it’s making me make the most of it. But I think I should make writing a habit, not a chance event. And definitely not a crazy habit, ha ha ha.
But that’s enough for now…I don’t really know what to do for the rest of the night. I think when I get back to school I’ll upload sketches and stuff, and maybe some preview chapters for the non-fanfics.
Ghosts in the Machine: 84 pages, Chapter 8/33 (fanfiction)
The Queen of Hearts: 7 pages, Book 1, Scene 2
The Orientation Deception: 3 pages, Book 1, Chapter 1
Courage: 17 pages, Chapter 1
Unidentified: 1 pages, Book 1, Prologue
I jump around between stories a lot. :P
I’m going to have to think hard about how to make a mugging scene not seem silly. That, and I can’t concentrate right now because I’m anxious for my new laptop to come today. x33
EDIT: Not five seconds after I finished this post it arrived. WOOO
And this was my next attempt at a fanfic. It was part sequel to The Wilson Incident, part magnum opus, part revolution, as it was a story spanning sections (there was no crossover section back then), part later marvel at how I managed to write so much (even if, taken together, it’s all shorter than Return to the Past). It’s also the most popular story I’ve ever written (it got 446 reviews total). Seven books were planned, and six and three-quarters were completed.
Here’s the first book. It has the theft of ideas from Doctor Who, The Phantom Tollbooth, and one of the Tom and Jerry movies, an attempt at drama, and chapters that switch to first-person POV.
Original Summary: Book Complete. Danny’s dad calls a two week trip to Calcutta…to get some milk. Danny gets to stay home, but before he goes, Jazz gives him some strange instructions. Little does he know that he’s in for the ride of his life… Bk 1 of the URtrip series.
Once upon a time, a young Danny Phantom fan decided she wanted to be like the cool kids and write fanfic. This was the result, taken from a Fanfiction.net account I’ve largely disowned, but am now acknowledging for the sake of gathering my writing from wherever it has spread. This includes my fanfiction, of which I will be posting one story here each day, in order of final chapter published, until I run out of it.
So, yes, this is the first full story I ever completed. It involves geeky, vengeful ghosts, a melodramatic interpretation of Sam’s then-missing parents, and the horrible failure of the justice system. I don’t think I’ve read it since I finished it. Enjoy.
Original Summary: COMPLETED! My first fic. A ghost that was a former sixth grade classmate of Danny’s comes back for revenge. When he attacks, a strange girl ghost comes and saves them. Sam begins acting very strangely after this… Little bit of DxS. R&R please!
Word Count: 9,957
Talmund didn’t deserve this. He was and had always been a man of habit, a slave to fashion but never a slave to trend. As cute as a bowtie might have been, he found the rush to strip them from the bodies of American Apparel models fleeting and futile. No frenzies had the final word on a good, long tie, and if he ever had to leave it behind it would be in gratitude as he joined the world in its shift to the next permanence.
His small, dim bridal boutique was his pride and joy, nurtured for twenty years in lieu of children, and it reflected these sensibilities. He only ever stocked the traditional and the simple, sure sales that never took risks. But there it was, right in the window. Short skirt, long sleeves, more feathers and sequins and bells and whistles than should lawfully fit on a dress. It was raging popular last year, but now was only an eyesore, the whitest of white elephants.
And all this time his sales had never changed. It was a mistake order, or a mistake at the warehouse - he couldn’t recall, his memory was failing already. After each bride left, giving the dress a glare (they always did), he would give it a glance, a thought, from his kiosk nearby. The thought never changed – Talmund was, you recall, a man of habit – but it always intrigued him. For him, one year blended into the next, half-present and half-forgotten, never again fully understood. For all the lines around his eyes, he would never age. But 2010’s love was not 2011’s love, and the dress no one would ever wear was a love that no one would ever feel again, a love out of place anywhere else.