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21_days2015-07-17 06:13 pm
21 Days of Valdemar!
Welcome to 21 Days of Valdemar!
Put on your party hats - it’s time for the Dead Vanyel Memorial Party! Vanyel is OFFICIALLY the Woobiest of the Woobies, and we celebrate in his honour!
WE'RE DONE.
No More Fills posted here! Post to AO3 or FF.Net and post the link here!
Discussion Post | Mod Call Post | Resources Post
Schedule
Day 1 -Aug. 9 - Prompts! You will have seven days to put as many prompts as you'd like on this post. And if you start writing them early, well that's just good planning!
Day 8 - Aug. 16 - Prompting ends, posting begins! You have 14 days to write, draw, and potentially diorama as many prompts as you can.
Day 19 - Aug. 27 - This is the cut-off day for prompters to reply to any questions about their prompt. Unanswered questions are considered enthusiastic agreement.
Day 21 - Aug. 29 - Last day of posting! All fills must be posted by 11:59 PM North American Mountain Time.
Day 22 - Aug. 30 - Party time! You now have the option of going unanon and reposting everything you've done to AO3 under our fancy AO3 Collection. Or unanoning in whatever manner you please.
(Click on the dates for countdowns; the fest is following MDT/Mountain Time)
For the purposes of this fest, the prompts themselves are warnings. If you have issues with this policy, we recommend either not participating or using Dreamwidth blocker.
Joining the 21_days community is optional for prompters, fillers, and all interested parties; we have some extra content for comm members, but this prompt/fill post, the discussion post, and the mod call post are open for everyone.
MOST IMPORTANT RULE: Posting unanon will be deleted. This doesn't mean you aren't welcome here! And if you'd like the content of your comment PMed to you, contact the MOD CALL post.
For Prompters and Readers
- Subject lines should include the series, characters and/or pairing you want. Feel free to be as descriptive as you'd like. Warnings aren't required, but they also aren't banned.
- You don't have to write or draw. It's anon, there's no IP-tracking, and we aren't going to stalk you.
- Do not comment on other people's prompts to try and change pairings or characters. Post your own version with the characters you want instead.
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- If you don't want to answer any questions, you can say so, and that will work as blanket permission for anything people might want to do with your prompt.
- Prompts for non-Valdemar Mercedes Lackey series are allowed.
For Artists and Writers
- No claiming prompts, please, as multiple fills are welcome!
- Minimum wordcount per fill is 100 words.
- All content is allowed and all warnings are optional, but if you want to write or draw extreme kinks** for a prompt that doesn’t specifically request them, you have ask the prompter first.
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- RPF of underage people is not allowed. We're not even sure if it's possible for Valdemar fic, but whatever. It's not allowed.
** "extreme kinks" for the purposes of this exchange include but are not necessarily limited to: extreme underage, major character death, scat/watersports/emetophilia, extreme gore, and bestiality. Please use reasonable discretion, and ask a mod if you have any questions!
For Everyone
This is a Choose Not to Warn fest. At no point will any comment be deleted for failure to warn of its content in the subject lines. They will be deleted for rampaging dickery and failure to follow the rules.
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Attempts at policing other people's fun will be deleted.
Prompts posted after the end of the 7th day will be deleted.
Links to off-meme posts posted prior to end of the 21st day will be deleted.
Concerns are to be directed to the MOD CALL post. If posted here, they will be deleted.
Fills that have spectacularly failed to fulfill the prompt/been posted to the wrong spot will be screened. You can request a copy of your work at the MOD CALL post.
The rules may change without warning in response to unforeseen circumstances, like us thinking of better ones.
Fill - not dealing
(Anonymous) 2015-08-16 01:00 pm (UTC)(link)Jisa rapped at the oaken door, and leaned into its recess. If anyone should see her, red-faced and tangled and still wearing the clothes she'd collapsed to sleep in at long past dawn, and should they try to speak to her, she couldn't say what she might do. Treven had gone, with reluctance, though gods knew he had work to do. It went on, everything just went on. And it was well that he got on with his Councils and audiences and plans. She didn't want to be around anyone except Stef.
Stef understood this smothering silence.
He admitted her without greeting her, barely even looking at Jisa as she stumbled into his room. Maybe he'd slept as little and as roughly as she had. Maybe he always did. He looked as rumpled and dead-eyed as she felt, and that was no surprise nor even a change - it was how he'd been since winter. His room was scattered with discarded clothes, discarded paper. She remembered the time, now months ago, when she'd come knocking with wine and cakes and tried to talk to him about it. More than one time. She'd tried to be a friend and a comfort and had accomplished nothing. What a joke.
Stef sat silently at the corner of his bed, and looked up at her without speaking. She tried to remember some semblance of an excuse for being there. "Stef, I have to thank you -"
"No you don't," he told her.
And he was no more than what he'd been for months now - a shadow and a whisper of the vibrant, charming young man who her father had loved - but he wasn't opaque to her any more.
Stef had played music all night so her parents could die peacefully, and she didn't have to thank him. He understood why she'd come.
She threw herself onto his mattress, slamming her hands against the pillows that rested by her head. "I'm so angry," she gasped. "I don't know what. Why," and she curled her fist tight and knocked at the headboard. "I knew it - it wouldn't be long now. Gods damn it I knew. Part of me wants - wants things to hurt. Starting with everyone who ever tried to make it harder for Papa..." She felt Stef stir, and the bedspring squeaked as he sat closer to her. "Do you ever stop being angry?" she asked, because no one else knew.
"You get tired of it," he told her. The thought of trying to have other, more complicated feelings was just too incomprehensibly hard. There was anger, and there was emptiness, and everything else was yesterday. She felt his hand rest heavy on her shoulder. "So part of you wants to hurt something. What about the other parts?"
She shook her head. "The rest wants to run away because I can't bear the thought of wh-what, how Treven's just getting back on with things. All that talking. About - coronations and, and f - funerals. I just want to stop it all. Why wonn't it all stop," and Stef squeezed her shoulder. "I'm sorry," and she rolled half-upright, and looked at him through eyes that hadn't seen him before. Death-eyes, empty pointless eyes that saw no more reason in anything.
Stef set his hands to her shoulders, and pulled her up into a slouch against his shoulder. He pulled her tight against him, embracing her like months ago she'd wished he would because she couldn't stand seeing him hurt. When she'd seen from the outside that all of him hurt and had pretended that some of it might be in her power to heal. She held him like they were two things clinging together in a void. Two futile stars in a night that wouldn't end, that she didn't know how to wake from.
She shook herself from his arms, and rubbed at her damned eyes. He deserved the truth, however small and stupid it was. "I really came here because Trev was going to Council and I didn't want to."
"They wouldn't make you," he frowned.
"I didn't want to go because I always visited Father afterwards." She curled her knees up to her chest. "That's a stupid reason. But what do I do now I d-don't visit him? I don't even know that. I used to - to worry about things like, would I ever be Chosen, and now nothing matters and I don't even know what I do after Council," and as she tilted sideways, Stef's arms gathered her up again. He was so thin now. She'd noticed, fretted like a fool, never known how food could become so much ashes. That thoughts would turn to nonsense. She didn't remember why people ate. "I don't remember why I do anything," she admitted.
If she thought about why people did things, she'd have to ask why her mother wasn't there to show her how to go on.
"She never had to do it," she muttered.
"What?" Stef's voice was soft, sandpaper-rough, a stark reminder of how much he'd done to take her mother's pain away. While Jisa had held Shavri's hand and felt her still hurting, so shattered that nothing but hurt was still left, and some imbecilically stupid part of her had been thinking that her mother didn't have to die, that her mother could live on (like Stef) and be there for her. And that she couldn't tell him. She couldn't ask Stef, of all people, why someone would choose to burn their channels out and die with their lifebonded.
How can I be this angry when I would have done the same thing, if it were Treven?
Because it means I'm not enough to stay for. Worthless, lost and stupid, and only ever dreaming I was the middle of their world.
I'm not even the middle of my world. There's no such thing. Nothing there.
This wasn't a nightmare. This was finally waking up. To never mattering and nothing ever being safe.
Stef squeezed her hand. "All I know is, don't ever ask yourself why someone's dead. Drives you mad." He didn't take his own advice, she could tell. "And you can't ask the world to stop turning. Though I don't know what I'll do, either," and his voice was a worn rope, its last thread fraying away. "I'll do whatever Treven needs of me. But my duty's - been more than to the crown. It was to your father," and he looked down at the floor.
"You don't have to call him that," she told him flatly. They'd never talked about it. But she was sure he knew.
"Your father called him that," Stef noted wryly, and shook his head. "Van - he dreaded this day. But he thought he'd be here for you," and Jisa screwed closed her eyes because intentions were worthless and thoughts were nothing.
She had no more Papa, no more Mother, and Father wasn't there for her.
"I hate when they say I'll get through this and I just need time to feel better," she said bleakly. What an enraging thing to say about something that could never be put right ever again.
Stef shrugged. "If you asked me, I'd say the third day is the worst," he told her. "First, you don't believe it. Then you wake up and you don't know what to do, but maybe you can still say something to someone about you really feel. It's after that," and his voice trailed off, as if it was the greatest effort in the world to care about what came after that and he didn't have it in him. She didn't. Have anything. Left. There was no one there any more.
"Is it better after the third day," she muttered.
"No." He shook his head. "They keep prescribing more time, then they get on with their Councils, they've got their other disasters, and all I can do is wake up every day, do what I must and then sleep."
His pain was so sharp that the edge of it cut through her own.
Stef had never said such bleak things on those nights when she'd come to his door and begged him to let her inside for his own sake. She let him pull her close again. Someone else could offer them bland comfort and tell them that the world wasn't over and that she wouldn't spend her life raging from loss; all Stef had to offer her was honesty, a dull image of the path onward, grief ground to dull gravel by the mill of living. With no end to it.
It didn't matter if you couldn't go on; you couldn't stop. There was no rest from it; only more time.
Re: Fill - not dealing
(Anonymous) 2015-08-16 03:00 pm (UTC)(link)Oh nonny, this is so sad and perfect! These parts actually made me tear up as I was reading:
"Stef had played music all night so her parents could die peacefully, and she didn't have to thank him. He understood why she'd come."
"Van - he dreaded this day. But he thought he'd be here for you"
And I really enjoyed your writing style, you use just the right amount of metaphor and imagery.
Re: Fill - not dealing
(Anonymous) 2015-08-16 10:01 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Fill - not dealing
(Anonymous) 2015-08-16 07:35 pm (UTC)(link)Thank you so much! You portrayed Jisa's grief and anger really well. My favorite part here is the connection between Jisa and Stefen, and the implication that only now, when Jisa's lost in grief too, Stefen can be honest to her about how much he's hurting. They're together in their desolation, at least.
Re: Fill - not dealing
(Anonymous) 2015-08-16 09:54 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Fill - not dealing
(Anonymous) 2015-08-25 08:10 pm (UTC)(link)(I've always been caught on how incredibly awful this was going to be for Jisa, and never really considered how bad it would be for Stef.)
I really like it!
Re: Fill - not dealing
(Anonymous) 2015-08-25 11:03 pm (UTC)(link)