Writing, an informal poll, and bit of silliness....
There is both good and bad news regarding current fic status. Good first: I've written over 20000 words of fanfiction in the last month and a half, which, considering that I usually take anywhere from three months to a year to produce that much for a chapter of about 66-75% the size, goes to show that when I want to sit down and WRITE, I can in fact do so. Conclusion: it is theoretically possible for me to produce a goodly-sized chapter in a month.
And now the bad: it remains only theoretically possible, because the 20000 words belong to a founders fic that takes place in the Nullifier universe but isn't part of Nullifier proper. If people are interested in reading the short story (encroaching upon novella lengths by now, like most things I sit down to write, saying to myself, "This will be short, dammit!"), which features Godric, Salazar, and Morass (and Rowena and Helga, to a lesser extent), I'll post it to LJ when it's finished and edited.
I promised one of my anonymous commenters that I'd put up the short, humorous AU skit I wrote a fair while back for skathare who, after reading a teaser of one of Harry's scenes with Senegal, speculated as to what explanation Edgar would provide next for Harry's bewildering resistance to the various counter-illusion charms and potions, and came up with something that gave me a plot bunny I couldn't ignore. I planned to change it from pseudo-script form to prose, but the silliness didn't translate properly, so I'm going to leave it as-is. Consider it a little "what-might-have-been" from chapter twelve.
Extreme silliness and butchered skit-format beyond the cut. You are warned. :)
* * * * *Edgar: My lord, if one might consider an alternative explanation--
Harry: Boggart.
(Puzzled silence.)
Edgar: Boggart--?
Harry: It's quite simple. I'm a boggart.
Senegal: *clenching the Portkey nearly hard enough to break it* Are you implying that I fear Godric Gryffindor?
Harry: *cheerfully* Not at all. That's not what you fear. Well, not exclusively, anyway.
Senegal: Oh? *more wary now* And what is it, then, that you think I fear?
(The other wizards in the room follow the back-and-forth of the conversation with a nervous intensity, like spectators at a duel without wards to lend them protection, should a curse go astray.)
Harry: Not 'think.' Know. Remember, I'm a boggart, I know your deepest fears.
Edgar: *hesitant* Sir, I don't think--
Senegal: Be silent! *resumes speaking with mixed irritation and contempt* This is ridiculous, of course. How could Godric Gryffindor possibly embody any fear I might have? Is that not who you claimed to be not one minute prior?
Harry: And that's the truth. I am Godric Gryffindor. I am also failure. Your failure. Humiliation in front of your fearsome leader.
Senegal: *clenches his wand rigidly* That's--I don't fear--
Harry: *softly* Failure. What happens to those who disappoint Morass?
(A shudder sweeps through the room.)
Wizard in the corner: *nearly unaware that he's speaking* He usually kills them. Sometimes he laughs as he does it. Sometimes worse. And sometimes neither, just to give the next poor bastard a tiny sliver of hope....
Senegal: *struggling to assert authority* This is--some absurd ploy to purchase a handful of minutes of precious freedom before you find yourself at the mercy of his whimsy.
Harry: *sensing weakness* Oh? You've never been afraid? Never woken in a cold sweat at the memory of horrors visited upon some of your less talented or simply less fortunate comrades? *gaining momentum* That's what this whole affair was about, wasn't it? Some way to prove yourself, buy safety and influence with a success Morass couldn't forget? Isn't that what you were hoping for?
Senegal: *ashen* That's not--*brandishes wand* Ri--Rikti--Edgar, what is the accursed incantation?
Harry: *turns swiftly on Edgar* And you. I know your fear also. You--
Edgar: *pointing his wand hastily* Riddikulus!
(Silence.)
Senegal: Riddikulus! *waits and then tries again more urgently* Riddikulus! Thrice-cursed creature--why won't you die? RIDDIKULUS! Fools, stop gaping and help me!
(Several pale wizards respond with a chorus of half-hearted chants, pointing their wands in Harry's general direction but clearly reluctant to aim directly at him. After several rounds of spells, Harry gives a sudden gasp and collapses. His captors release him and step back. A hushed silence follows.)
Edgar: *approaching him* Is it--? It's shaking...it's--
(The shaking doesn't subside, and the room fills with a terrible noise.)
Senegal: Howling in pain, the disgusting creature. What a pathe--*stops, staring as Harry straightens* He's--
Muggle guard: Laughing?
Harry: *wheezing* Sweet Merlin-- *glances up at Senegal before collapsing into laughter again*
Senegal: *voice strained* Silence. Be SILENT you insolent little--
Harry: *grabbing onto the arm of one of his startled captors to pull himself to his feet* The look on your face.
Senegal: *pales, reddens, and then pales again*
Harry: That alone will be enough to sustain me through months of torture.
Senegal: You won't HAVE months. I am going to kill you--
Edgar: *horrified* Sir!
Senegal: Right--*wall heave and groan as his fist clenches tighter and tighter* NOW!
(The Portkey in his hand shatters, and the sentries turn as one to stare at their leader.)
Harry: Looks like my day just got a lot better.
* * * * *
*glances at clock* Okay, don't think I can afford to procrastinate any longer. Back to the work that never ends....
And now the bad: it remains only theoretically possible, because the 20000 words belong to a founders fic that takes place in the Nullifier universe but isn't part of Nullifier proper. If people are interested in reading the short story (encroaching upon novella lengths by now, like most things I sit down to write, saying to myself, "This will be short, dammit!"), which features Godric, Salazar, and Morass (and Rowena and Helga, to a lesser extent), I'll post it to LJ when it's finished and edited.
I promised one of my anonymous commenters that I'd put up the short, humorous AU skit I wrote a fair while back for skathare who, after reading a teaser of one of Harry's scenes with Senegal, speculated as to what explanation Edgar would provide next for Harry's bewildering resistance to the various counter-illusion charms and potions, and came up with something that gave me a plot bunny I couldn't ignore. I planned to change it from pseudo-script form to prose, but the silliness didn't translate properly, so I'm going to leave it as-is. Consider it a little "what-might-have-been" from chapter twelve.
Extreme silliness and butchered skit-format beyond the cut. You are warned. :)
* * * * *Edgar: My lord, if one might consider an alternative explanation--
Harry: Boggart.
(Puzzled silence.)
Edgar: Boggart--?
Harry: It's quite simple. I'm a boggart.
Senegal: *clenching the Portkey nearly hard enough to break it* Are you implying that I fear Godric Gryffindor?
Harry: *cheerfully* Not at all. That's not what you fear. Well, not exclusively, anyway.
Senegal: Oh? *more wary now* And what is it, then, that you think I fear?
(The other wizards in the room follow the back-and-forth of the conversation with a nervous intensity, like spectators at a duel without wards to lend them protection, should a curse go astray.)
Harry: Not 'think.' Know. Remember, I'm a boggart, I know your deepest fears.
Edgar: *hesitant* Sir, I don't think--
Senegal: Be silent! *resumes speaking with mixed irritation and contempt* This is ridiculous, of course. How could Godric Gryffindor possibly embody any fear I might have? Is that not who you claimed to be not one minute prior?
Harry: And that's the truth. I am Godric Gryffindor. I am also failure. Your failure. Humiliation in front of your fearsome leader.
Senegal: *clenches his wand rigidly* That's--I don't fear--
Harry: *softly* Failure. What happens to those who disappoint Morass?
(A shudder sweeps through the room.)
Wizard in the corner: *nearly unaware that he's speaking* He usually kills them. Sometimes he laughs as he does it. Sometimes worse. And sometimes neither, just to give the next poor bastard a tiny sliver of hope....
Senegal: *struggling to assert authority* This is--some absurd ploy to purchase a handful of minutes of precious freedom before you find yourself at the mercy of his whimsy.
Harry: *sensing weakness* Oh? You've never been afraid? Never woken in a cold sweat at the memory of horrors visited upon some of your less talented or simply less fortunate comrades? *gaining momentum* That's what this whole affair was about, wasn't it? Some way to prove yourself, buy safety and influence with a success Morass couldn't forget? Isn't that what you were hoping for?
Senegal: *ashen* That's not--*brandishes wand* Ri--Rikti--Edgar, what is the accursed incantation?
Harry: *turns swiftly on Edgar* And you. I know your fear also. You--
Edgar: *pointing his wand hastily* Riddikulus!
(Silence.)
Senegal: Riddikulus! *waits and then tries again more urgently* Riddikulus! Thrice-cursed creature--why won't you die? RIDDIKULUS! Fools, stop gaping and help me!
(Several pale wizards respond with a chorus of half-hearted chants, pointing their wands in Harry's general direction but clearly reluctant to aim directly at him. After several rounds of spells, Harry gives a sudden gasp and collapses. His captors release him and step back. A hushed silence follows.)
Edgar: *approaching him* Is it--? It's shaking...it's--
(The shaking doesn't subside, and the room fills with a terrible noise.)
Senegal: Howling in pain, the disgusting creature. What a pathe--*stops, staring as Harry straightens* He's--
Muggle guard: Laughing?
Harry: *wheezing* Sweet Merlin-- *glances up at Senegal before collapsing into laughter again*
Senegal: *voice strained* Silence. Be SILENT you insolent little--
Harry: *grabbing onto the arm of one of his startled captors to pull himself to his feet* The look on your face.
Senegal: *pales, reddens, and then pales again*
Harry: That alone will be enough to sustain me through months of torture.
Senegal: You won't HAVE months. I am going to kill you--
Edgar: *horrified* Sir!
Senegal: Right--*wall heave and groan as his fist clenches tighter and tighter* NOW!
(The Portkey in his hand shatters, and the sentries turn as one to stare at their leader.)
Harry: Looks like my day just got a lot better.
* * * * *
*glances at clock* Okay, don't think I can afford to procrastinate any longer. Back to the work that never ends....