fanfic musings
Lately a fanfic has been crystallizing in my head. Not the one I'm currently writing, which is more like 5 vignettes stitched together. I'd like to try to make this a fairly long story, but to be faithful to the source material that would almost by necessity require filler chapters, and my knee-jerk reaction to that is "oh hell no."
Anyway, here are a few random images and motifs, for those who like to read me thinking in type.
An oasis in the middle of an impassible desert. Really impassible, because all who set foot on its sand perish immediately. The oasis is floored with glass, through which the sand underneath is visible. The spring in the middle is also glass-bottomed. Useful plants - fruit trees, crops, etc grow on the glass, but they are not glass themselves, just normal plants.
The inhabitants of this oasis are smaller than humans, and wear all-concealing Tuareg-style robes, very desert-dweller-ish. The fabric drags on the glass, polishing it. No scuff marks are visible on the glass anywhere, in fact. These people are the creators of this oasis, and the magic that enabled them to do that also makes them desirable as slaves...
A flock of yellow chickens, mostly hens, flying in formation over the desert, clucking "The Ride of The Valkyries." OK, the music won't work in text form, but it's still fun to imagine for the dramatic arrival of the chicken cavalry.
Things burning in different ways as they are thrown into a furnace hot enough to melt gold. A plush heart is silhouetted for a moment before it catches fire. Oat straw catches flame and burns away immediately; oat bran sparkles as the bits floating in the hot air catch fire. Clothing flutters briefly as it catches fire, then vanishes.
The melting point of gold is about 1000 degrees Celsius, nickel is above 1400, and tin is a mere 220-ish.
"When I had a heart, I relied on it to tell me right from wrong. Now that I don't have one... I find it doesn't matter any more." This is not a good thing to hear when the speaker is is armored and carries an axe around, and you have just given him good reason to want to do you grievous harm. This can of whoopass is self-opening.
"Who really needs a heart or a brain? There are people without either who get along just fine, so stop acting like a fool because I know you're not one!" (Is a placebo necessarily a humbug if it's acknowledged to be a placebo?)
Anyway, here are a few random images and motifs, for those who like to read me thinking in type.
An oasis in the middle of an impassible desert. Really impassible, because all who set foot on its sand perish immediately. The oasis is floored with glass, through which the sand underneath is visible. The spring in the middle is also glass-bottomed. Useful plants - fruit trees, crops, etc grow on the glass, but they are not glass themselves, just normal plants.
The inhabitants of this oasis are smaller than humans, and wear all-concealing Tuareg-style robes, very desert-dweller-ish. The fabric drags on the glass, polishing it. No scuff marks are visible on the glass anywhere, in fact. These people are the creators of this oasis, and the magic that enabled them to do that also makes them desirable as slaves...
A flock of yellow chickens, mostly hens, flying in formation over the desert, clucking "The Ride of The Valkyries." OK, the music won't work in text form, but it's still fun to imagine for the dramatic arrival of the chicken cavalry.
Things burning in different ways as they are thrown into a furnace hot enough to melt gold. A plush heart is silhouetted for a moment before it catches fire. Oat straw catches flame and burns away immediately; oat bran sparkles as the bits floating in the hot air catch fire. Clothing flutters briefly as it catches fire, then vanishes.
The melting point of gold is about 1000 degrees Celsius, nickel is above 1400, and tin is a mere 220-ish.
"When I had a heart, I relied on it to tell me right from wrong. Now that I don't have one... I find it doesn't matter any more." This is not a good thing to hear when the speaker is is armored and carries an axe around, and you have just given him good reason to want to do you grievous harm. This can of whoopass is self-opening.
"Who really needs a heart or a brain? There are people without either who get along just fine, so stop acting like a fool because I know you're not one!" (Is a placebo necessarily a humbug if it's acknowledged to be a placebo?)