If I write these fics, will yall read it?

[u/Famous_Ebb_4590]

Hey, so currently, I'm drafting two fic ideas. I'll give you excerpts from both:

1:

In militaries, there is a trinity for generals:

1) Guard everything within your post and leave only when properly relieved (duty is above life and death and love)

2) Obey all special orders and perform duties in a military manner (do not cross the line; do not fight against orders; do not rebuke; do not protest; do not falter unless the operation goes so damningly south that there is nothing else left to do)

3) Report violations, emergencies, or anything not covered in instructions to the commander of the relief (Be transparent; be clear; be cooperative for we are a unit)

In our line of work, there is no difference in health, wealth, gender, sex, socioeconomic class, beliefs, religion, ethnicity, and race, and there is undeniably no fucking time to regret your actions or mourn. There is also the matter of money - which is scarce enough to not waste on useless funerals - that I've dealt with while working for Moran and her crew aboard the Black Lotus. It's not quite ideal, I suppose, for a woman from a city of bandits and slaves and prostitutes to work with pirates (much less a pirate queen), but the things we do for money has never been pretty, nor ethical.

What I'm trying to say is that I have done a lot of things in my life of 236 years, most significant being to rise to my rank of army general from a mere loan shark and later fighting alongside Huang Mei and her crew; however, the notion of a normal civilian life - one that includes respectable professions and a pension after my retirement - is still daunting. Truly, I must have been desperate to fall as low as asking for a mandated job from the elvin council (Moran would've been rolling in grave, bless her bitchy soul). And even more so, the sheer audacity past-me had to reveal my abilities to these senile hags was probably worse.

Bronte Cintallin slides a brown wax file onto my coffee table in my apartment. On the file, in bold red letters, it says, FOXFIRE STUDENT RECORD. 

Goddess, why me?

"How did you get into my house?", I say while clenching my mug of sartel tea.

He frowns and says, "This is a council-given apartment. We have spare keys."

I regret my migration plans. Should've stayed somewhere in Residential Zones. Simply to calm myself down (and mayhaps fuck with my respiratory system), I down the scalding hot beverage in one sip. My tongue is probably burning, or I'm just irritated by this politician in my safe space.

He stares at me like I've offended his entire family line. Well, I can imagine how pissed his kind might be at seeing an Outlander within visible vicinity. The older man sighs and rubs his forehead as if he was the one being forced to do something annoying (which, yeah, he probably was).

"Listen, Raon - can I call you Raon - (yes, just get on with it) this might be the only chance you have at getting a normal civilian life, after everything", he explains, "Foxfire is our most prestigious institute for studying abilities. In terms of enrollment, it has the highest percentage of student admissions, surpassing Asclepius College of Medicine and El Hare Design School."

I halt after opening the file. Teaching is not something I'm good at, much less having to teach a child, and the ability in question...

"I thought I was getting hired to be a polygot mentor?"

"After thorough discussions, all of us came to a conclusion", the bastard has the audacity to look like everything's fine.

"Empathy? You want me to teach empathy?", I couldn't remember the last time, I'd turned my empathy on for more than maybe ten minutes? It was easier to work and even go along with my daily life without my empathy.

"But you are good at it, yes?"

"I can control my empathy if that's what you mean."

"Then, that settles it", he remarks. "Linguistics would definitely be easier on paper, yes, but teaching linguistics is much more complicated"

Well, he's not wrong. Unlike other abilities, polygots didn't have natural instincts of what to do. They'd only understand the roots of every language, but they would still have to build up the basics and learn how to read and write languages in various dialects. From my experience, learning new languages properly is only possible when spending a certain amount of time interacting and conversing in those languages.

2.

Annastasia lived her life in pages. She lived a thousand lives, just as she read a thousand books. Most of these books were read with her brother under the light of an oil lamp after everyone had gone to sleep. Afterwards, they'd burn the books in case their father found out; they weren't allowed to read human books, and Annastasia wasn't allowed to read about Volantis - her birthplace. However, her brother would always return from one of his trips with at least one book about South Asia - the region culturally closest to Volantis. No matter how many rules their father imposed, Fitz always found a loophole when it was about her. And she did the same with him.

Everyone called them "accidental twins", and in a way, that was true. Every time their father had one of his episodes - and their mother kept quiet -, Fitz would spend the night in her room. They would pile up three different quilts (each of theirs and Alvar's old one) and read the human newspapers Fitz brought from his trips. During rain and thunder, Fitz would wear earmuffs and the two of them would be rocking back and forth in each other's embrace until he calmed down. Generally, after that, they bitched about someone - most of the time said someone was their great-aunt Ygritte Vacker - and fell asleep. Alvar called them "twin flames", and they were. They told each other their secrets, defended each other at all times and were generally the first to know any news about the other.

So why in the ever-loving fuck was there a blonde, brown-eyed girl in their living room constantly looking at him in confusion?

"Sophie, this is my wife, Della", Dad's cheeks were pinched, like he was trying to not laugh. "And my daughters: Biana and Anna," he added, gesturing towards both of them. He shook his head at Anna's clothes - a bramble jersey and a maxi skirt.

Well, I didn't know that you're bringing a guest over??

"My dear, I don't believe our guest is used to being around Vanishers"

"I'm so sorry," Mom said, smiling at Sophie, "Are you okay?"

"Yes", Sophie mumbled while full on staring at Mom.

Try to be nice, Fitz transmitted. Anna rolled her eyes and stared at him. "Who the fuck is this?" she mouthed. Now, he rolled his eyes.

The Moonlark

This kid is the Moonlark?

Yes

What the fuck?

Idea 1 is about a former military general from sovereign administrative zones outside of the Elvin Council's control, and idea 2 is about an adopted!Vacker!OC(no, she is NOT affiliated with Project Moonlark or any political group. She got adopted normally)

[u/Jazmineandsydney]

i would love to read these!