Best Nano Yet

I hit 50k for Nanowrimo on November 27th and while that felt great, I don't feel like I won yet. That's because I am using nano this year to rewrite Restoring Faith. (I'm calling it Rewriting Faith.) It's strange having the whole story planned out from the start, but it does make writing every day easier.

And the story is definitely better this time around! I have grown a lot as a writer since two years ago and I'm much better at adding failure points into my story. Some of them have been purposeful, others came about because I forgot to mention a thing earlier on and I realise if I continue to ignore it then it adds another layer of complexity for my chracters. Laziness and better writing!

It also helps that I had a couple friends look over it before I started rewriting so I have a better idea of what set up stuff was unneeded and where I need to elaborate. My villain has at least two new scenes! I'm also forcing myself to keep track of POVs as I go so that they are more consistant and I can make sure to feature everyone.

So on this last day of November, I have written the 50k, but I estimate I have another 1/3 of the story left to write. I set myself a deadline of Feburary. We'll see how that goes. I guess I should get back to writing.

Quick preview of a spot I changed in the second revision:

Hannah heard a voice and looked up to see a human hand holding out the other stone. However, the rest of his body was not entirely human shaped. Gills in his neck were the first clue, but it was the long grey tail that gave it away. His scales glinted dimly in the light filtered through the water as he tail slowly moved back and forth to keep him in place.
“Thank you,” Hannah said as she gently took the stone.
Nadir asked something, but not in any language Hannah understood. So many people spoke Common, she forgot that she was limited by language in the future. On Earth too, but that was less relevant right now. More importantly, the merman seemed to understand Nadir. They carried on a brief conversation before Nadir turned to Hannah.
“You couldn’t understand that?” he asked in Common.
“Nope. Sounded a little like Italian, but I only know how to say ‘your butt is made of cheese’ so that’s not actually useful.”
Nadir threw his head back and laughed before translating for the elderly merman.

Writing Goals for 2018

Oh wow. Have I really not written since middle of November? Oops. Well I won NaNo, but naturally the story isn't finished. I'm also revising last year's NaNo because a good friend of mine gave me the right kind of beta reading and now I am rewriting the beginning and rethinking characters. It's a glorious disaster. Onto the actual point of this post.

I can't tell if Kristina will continue doing the weekly prompts, but a goals prompt sounds like a good plan. So here we go.

1. Complete at least 15 of the Writing Excuses homework assignments.
For those of you who don't know, this is a weekly, 15 min podcast with great writing advice. This year they are focusing on character and I really need that. So I want to do the homework assignments and be more active in my learning.

2. Finish Twin Tales.
This is my monstrosity of a Merlin fic. It's over 100k right now. I want to wrap it up by the end of this year so I can start posting it and giggling at the feedback people will give me.

3. Revise Restoring Faith
This will be slightly dependent on my beta reader, but I do really want to eventually publish this one so getting a proper second draft by the end of the year seems like a good goal.

4. Write something non-fandom
This does not include Restoring Faith. This will probably happen with goal number one, but I want to make it it's own goal so I can keep it a focus.

How well will I do? I don't know. Real life is gearing up to kick my butt this year, especially in the summer which is usually good writing time for me. But I will find a way.

Favourite writing from this week:

But now the glimmer of hope seemed absent. Left alone with her thoughts, prospects were bleak. Not even the chocolate croissant she had saved was cheering her up. It only reminded her how far she had traveled since the tube station. She set it back on the wrapper. It was meant to be a ten minute ride home.

Yet now she was stranded in a foreign city, surrounded by aliens and in a time far removed from her own. Even if she was able to travel to Earth somehow, it wouldn’t be the same planet she left.

No family, no friends, no series finale of Bakeoff and wow she hadn’t realised how much that one hurt. She didn’t even like cooking. So why were her eyes filling with tears?

But now that they started, she couldn’t make them stop. Her family were dead. Had been for who knows how long. How long did it take them to start looking for her? How long until they gave up?

And what would she do? Try to go to uni? Applications were hard enough the first time around. Now she had no paperwork and only her previous student ID as any form of identification. Even if she somehow was accepted, she would have gaps in her education. She wouldn’t have money to pay tuition. Hells she hardly had food for the next day.

Hannah grabbed tissues from the bedside table and noisily blew her nose.

“Destinies are troublesome things,” an accented voice said. It sounded oddly Irish. The first recognisable accent she had heard this entire trip. “You don’t often understand why things happen until many years later.”

Hannah looked around, but couldn’t see anyone who could have spoken to her.

“To your right, above the table,” the voice said. She looked up but all she could see was a drawing of large stone gateway similar to the one she had fallen through. “There we go.”

Hannah blinked, rubbed away the tears that were blurring her vision. Maybe she had fallen asleep because she thought the artwork was speaking.

“You aren’t going crazy.” The drawing changed, shifted. A gargoyle that had been perched on top of the arch flew down into the foreground of the image, all the detail of the pointed teeth and large ears become clearer.

“How? You’re in a drawing,” she protested. “Drawings don’t move. Or talk.” She pinched her arm again, but just as before it hurt. No waking up from a weird dream.

“Magic, Mistress Osta,” the gargoyle replied. “You had best get used to it.”

“Right, magic.” She nodded, then shook her head. “No. This is crazy. Pictures that move, I’ll accept. Crazy arches that kidnap you from tube stations, fine.” She crossed her arms. “But no way is it normal for art to hold a conversation with someone. There was other artwork in the hotel lobby and none of those paintings moved. Something tells me this isn’t normal.”

“Now you are catching on.” It seemed proud of her. “We will make a proper adventurer of you yet.”

“Adventure? No, this has been an adventure enough. I just want to go home.”

“That’s not possible at the moment.”

Hannah felt her breath catch. “No. Saraahm said she knows someone who might know how to get me home. There has to be a way.”

“There is a way. You have to create your own path home.”

“What?”

“Talk to Father Carame, he will guide you to the right path. But there are things you need to learn before you can return home.”

Hannah was still having trouble processing the fact that she was talking to a gargoyle in a drawing on on wall, but something in it’s tone made her believe it. “What, do I have to take a class?” That didn’t mean any of this made sense.

“Father Carame will tell you more about your destiny. Think of it as your letter to Hogwarts.”

“I’m going to ignore the fact that you just made a “Harry Potter” reference and focus on the rest of that. How do you know my destiny?”

“Magic.”

“Of course.” Hannah shut her eyes and rubbed a hand over her face. Magic, destiny, and kidnapping. Just your average Friday. But apparently this was the reality she had to live with right now. “What does my destiny have to do with finding a way home?” She adjusted her glasses and looked back up at the drawing, but the gargoyle had retreated to the perch atop the portal.

“I have faith that you will stumble upon the connection,” its voice said into the stillness before some intuition Hannah never knew she had, told her that the creature wouldn’t be saying anything else.

“Okay. I am officially in an adventure story. Magical creature who gives advice then disappears with a riddle. Got it.” She looked down at her croissant. She needed chocolate and then she needed sleep.

NaNoWriMo Update

Just a a short update today. NaNo has been going well. I was able to write a lot of words while I was remote observing. Turns out the spectrometer involves a lot of hitting a button then waiting half an hour. So there was plenty of free time. And I was leading up to a battle which turned out really well. Or at least I humbly think so.
I have also confirmed who will be the ten individuals at the Round Table in my story and it is very exciting. Only one of them has not yet been introduced. I also made a new planning document since the previous one is mostly crossed off and it was getting hard to find the things I had not yet written. So a clear sign of progress. As if the 40k words written just this month didn't indicate that already.
And as soon as I finish this chapter I will have 52 chapters. That means that I can post once a week for a year and readers will still have not finished the story. I still intend to finish writing before I start posting, but it is nice to know that if I get impatient for feedback I have a large buffer.
This week I am sharing with you a section of my story leading up to the sword being pulled out of the stone. I loved writing it and I am pleased with how it turned out.


Favourite writing from this week:

“Is this another story you found in a book in the library that should’ve stayed buried? Because the last one you told was not nearly as interesting as you claimed.”

Merlin gaped at him. “I’ll have you know when I told Gwen the tale of the hydra she loved it.” He continued marching ahead, knowing Arthur was following even if his steps through the brush were quieter. “And no. This book was not buried. I think you will be familiar with some of it. It is about Brutus, the first king of Camelot.” He pushed a low hanging branch out of his way. “He conquered the land of Camelot from local nomadic groups and united them under one banner and securing the roads of trade. He had the citadel built up to present a show of force against invaders and prove that he and his descendants were here to stay.”

“Yes, Merlin I know the story. Everyone in Camelot knows the story.” Arthur shoved at a bush in his path. “I don’t see why this is important. And where are we going anyway?”

Merlin looked over his shoulder. “For once, just be patient and listen.” He faced forward just in time to duck under a thick branch. “Since you say you know the story, I will skip to the part you may not have heard. Laying on his deathbed, there were many who were praising the king, telling him that no king of Camelot would ever do as much for the land as he had done. Even his own son spoke of how he could never live up to his father.

“But the king spoke and he told them that he had been gifted with a vision of the future before he died and he wanted to share it with them. He said that someday in the future, a descendant of his would rule Camelot and this King would make Camelot a shining kingdom to be remembered throughout the ages. He told them to take him out to his favourite lake and there, with the last reserves of his legendary strength, he drove his sword into a rock. He said that one day a man would come to claim this sword, and that man would be the rightful king of Camelot. The one to be remembered.”

Merlin stopped speaking, letting the magic of the linger in the forest air. It felt like the world was waiting, holding its breath.

“That’s rubbish.” And the world was just punched in the gut. “Who would believe that?”

“Plenty of people,” Merlin retorted. “Are you calling the people of Camelot stupid?”

“A sword stuck in a rock? That’s impossible.”

Merlin smiled internally. He couldn’t have planned it any better. “Then what is that?”

Arthur stepped up beside where Merlin had stopped and looked into the small clearing. The land sloped gently downward to a sunlit circle of grass, within which laid a large stone. And in that stone, a sword.

Fix it and long fics

Prompt: A character rips something they are wearing.

I used this as an excuse to write the fix-it fic for Kingsman 2. I won't spoil it yet, but if you wish to avoid, don't read the writing section.

I also decided for sure that my nano will be just continuing my Merlin fic, Twin Tales. I have no ideas for another story at the moment. I haven't done enough editing on last year's fic to write the sequel yet. And I really want to get TT finished before 2019. It's a long one and I would prefer to finish it before I start posting it. Granted, my library books are also due in 7 days and I have not finished them. So maybe I should read a bit more than write next week.

Favourite writing from this week:

A snippet:

She looked out the window. The fireball was coming for her. Fuck. Instinctually she dove across her room and leapt into the tub. She barely had time to activate her distress signal before the bomb hit.


She felt the floor drop out from under her. She fell. And kept falling. Hands over her head, she couldn't say for sure, but she assumed the entire mansion was plummeting into the earth.


She slammed into the hard porcelain. Then the ceiling slammed into her. Bits of tile and dirt rained down around her. She felt a rumble and then something else fell, knocking her unconscious.


When Roxy next woke, it was to a growling stomach. She rolled over, habitually reaching for her phone, but immediately realised she couldn't move. Opening her eyes, she could barely see in front of her. She remembered the explosion.


Twisting, she positioned herself to try to shove the rubble on top of her with her back. It wasn't easy, but soon she moved it enough to crouch and push the rest off. Looking around, she recognised the grey walls of the underground tunnels. She really had fallen far. And the mansion was clearly in no liveable condition anymore.


She carefully walked to the remains of her room that had fallen into the underground tunnels. The old oak furniture had proved remarkably resilient, protecting the contents of her wardrobe. She changed out of her ripped pyjamas and into proper clothes with thick soled shoes. Her computer was a wreck, as was her phone. Her lock box was in the vaults in the tunnels. It would be intact, but she didn't know if it would be accessible.


A rumble from her stomach reminded her that there were other things to look for in the tunnels first.


It was a testament of money and post-WWII paranoia that the tunnel system was nearly undamaged. Only the section directly hit by the bomb had collapsed. Once she climbed through the rubble it was almost like the explosion never happened.


Until she tried to contact Merlin. The network was dead. The bunker had switched into dark mode when the bomb was detected and she would need Merlin to reboot securely.


She hoped he and Eggsy were okay. She didn’t know if this was a multi-pronged attack. She wiped her plate into the trash and set it beside the sink. However, for now, her body was telling her she needed sleep. Tomorrow she could try some backup methods of communication.

Returning Home

Prompt: "She turned away and walked back toward the house."

Hey, long time no see. That is what happens at the end of term. But I only have one more thing left and that means I can catch up on Wordbound. I wasn't totally abandoning my writing for two weeks, but it was mostly editng and planning and boy do I have an epic story that is in the works.

But for now, this is a short ficlet, a snapshot if you will, of my main character from my nanowrimo story returning home after her adventure.

Favourite writing from this week: 

She turned away and walked back toward the house. It would be so easy to get back on the train, go back to the portal and be whisked away again. She would be back with her friends. Sure she had friends here on Earth, but they seemed less somehow. As if she had only known the buildings of a modest village and then was shown the splendor of Rome, of Berlin, of any of the great capitols of the world. The small homes were still the same sturdy homes of brick and mortar and drywall. But they were never again going to be seen as the pinnacle of all one could hope to build.

Standing in front of her flat, she pulled out her keyring from the inside zipper pocket of her bag. She was glad she had not lost it along the way. She struggled more than usual with the lock, having forgotten the exact trick of a quick turn. Her umbrella went in the stand, her shoes were kicked off at the mat, her bag came with her upstairs.


Hardly anything had changed. Of course the newspapers had told her she hadn’t actually been gone very long at all-only a few hours. And yet, she had been gone for three months. Her phone lit up with a text asking about weekend plans. Dinner at the Blue Anchor and then hitting the clubs. She thought of the last club she had been to. She smiled at the memory of the wild dancing and the other dances she learned in that galaxy so far away. Maybe once she settled back into life on Earth she would consider joining, but for now she texted back an apology and pulled her textbooks out. She had homework due on Monday and she hadn’t been to class in ages.

When Friends help you Punish your Characters

Prompt: Feature a couple of your writing friends! How do you inspire each other?

I thought I would focus on some people that have shaped my writing. Karlimir Stonewain was a user I conversed with way back on lotrfanfiction.net. They were an older writer, already retired, and I was just starting out. They edited my chapters occasionally and always left encouraging reviews. To this day I will always have this person to look back on as an example of how to encourage and support others online.

Then there is my real life friend with whom I have tried to write many stories. Although none of these have ever made it very far, she Is the one I turn to when I can't figure out where my plot is going, what things should be called, or if I need to rant about a book I read. Someday we will finish that story of ours.

Currently, I am part of a wonderful group of writers on tumblr who edit each other's work and promote each other's stories. They fill me with ideas, help me when I struggle to write in a new way, and always put a smile on my face. It is so hard to pick only a few, but the ones who are inspiring me most at the moment are Opal, Cas, Gwyllion, and Ven.

This last one has truly grown into a unique friendship. I offered to beta a story of hers, then she beta'd one of mine, and back and forth for nearly a year now. She is also the only reason my NaNoWriMo story ever got written this year and the reason it even makes sense. I love our brainstorming sessions together and the little shout outs and inside jokes we now throw in our stories for the other. This wonderful person goes by Requiem

The writing from this week is, well, not my favourite, but it is a current struggle. I am on the third draft of this and writing torture is hard. Any constructive criticism would be helpful.

Favourite writing from this week: 

She watched him pour the petrol in an increasing spiral around the room. She noticed that it was not a steady stream, it splashed a bit. Maybe that would slow down the advance of fire when they did light it. Either way, it didn’t look good for her.
Logically she knew it hadn’t been long since she sent the distress signal through her tracker. Assuming the signal made it to headquarters, they still had to identify an agent who was free, contact them, and narrow down her location. London was a big city and so wherever she was, it would take time for them to get to her.
And what could she do in the meantime? She wasn’t going to hack this for them. Did they plan on waiting here and staring at her while she stared back? She shivered. She hoped not. Already being bound to the chair in front of these men was sending her mind into spirals of dark what-if scenarios she was desperately trying to block out.
Adding the threat of fire was only adding another nightmare scenario for her brain to play with and twist. She never wanted to know what is was like to die a martyr, but now she may know what it felt like. Even if her name was never known to the outside world. All they would find were her charred remains in front of a computer. She died as she lived, she could imagine her friends saying. All her life spent in front of a computer, fighting for good, and now she would die having refused to lay a finger on the keyboard.
“I will give you one last time to accept our offer on your own terms,” Rob said when the man was finished pouring the petrol. “Will you wipe his identity for us?”
R lifted her chin high and clenched her fists in defiance. “No.” If she was going to die terrified, she would die terrified on her own terms, sticking by her own morals.
“Very well then.” Rob pulled a disposable lighter out of his pocket and lit it. Holding it up dramatically, he waited for her to suddenly change her mind, but R was decided. Without looking away from her, Rob dropped the lighter onto the line of gas.

Spark of Inspiration

Prompt: A character opens someone else's desk drawer. What do they find?

Remember how last week I said that I was so busy and didn't have time to write? Well I read this prompt and the story sprung to mind and I had it written by that evening. Turns out sometimes a perfect prompt forces you to make time to write, even if it is writing on your phone while on the bus. Below is a snippet from that story.

I also decided to do Camp Nano which I have never done before. I set my loose goal at 60 hours of writing time for this month. For me, I am expanding this to include not just story writing time, but also paper writing time (since I have a lot of that to do in April), and editing time.

Yes, I was finally able to write "the end" on my nanowrimo story and now I have it printed out, ready to be edited in pen. It's exciting.

Favourite writing from this week: 

Report compiled by: Alex Turner
No. Surely not. But then, why wouldn't they? Bond had faked his own death before. He let the ruse continue for quite some time as well.
Returning the documents and closing the compartment, the agent blindly perused the storage shelves as he thought.
Bond had thought Alex died over a year ago. Bond had thought that Q couldn't keep secrets. Bond had thought smart blood was nothing more than a tracking system that could monitor his vitals. Bond had thought he knew Q.

Now he wasn't sure what he knew.

In Which Homework is Horrible

Prompt: Pick a tweet from a friend and find a way to incorporate all words into your scene

Long story short, Not much writing happened this week. If you follow me on other social media you will know that I was on an observing trip and thus spent a lot of time taking data with a big telescope. As a result of that, I came back to reality and was swamped with homework. So although I have a great tweet from a friend that I really want to work with, here is a short snippet from what I worked on while taking ten minute exposures of galaxies. (And I'll include a picture of a galaxy at the end)

Favourite writing from this week: 

“Copper I can do.”

“Do what?” Nadir asked.

“Just watch.” Spades pushed back her sleeves and pressed a hand against the wall. She was motionless for a few seconds before shaking her head. She then reached into her pouch and pulled out a couple seeds which she then pressed into the wall. Now as she concentrated her powers, vines began to grow and spread along the wall.

The others watched in amazement as the vines crawled along the wall, to the ceiling, and over the canyon. Some branches even grew grapes. But then it reached the broken wire on the other side and grabbed hold.

Spades pulled her hand away. She took a deep breath, recentering herself, and then grabbed the vine with both hands. The green faded to black and then toward metallic as the plant became copper, shining faintly in the ambient light.

A Damaged Reputation

Prompt: Something gets broken beyond repair

First things first, my Merlin fanfic is complete and posted! So far the feed back has been positive and I am relieved. I loved the story, but now it is time to move on.

I was so excited when I saw this prompt. I love breaking things in my stories and providing challenges for my characters. But as I wrote this week, I discovered a dilemma: I was at a point in the story where things were being fixed and information was coming together to give a more complete picture. The opposite of being broken. Then I remembered that sometimes, it doesn't have to be anything physical that is broken. And so just this afternoon I have arrived at the following.

Favourite writing from this week: 

With the lack of other readable text, they decided to leave the book with the doctor to study. They continued to fill her in on their mission and she updated them on some of the worldwide news.

Miraculously, other portals that had been dismissed as dormant were now showing signs of activity. Nothing had come through, however. Those in her field were still puzzled.

The news update earlier that morning had spoke about the Pertinax Scandal. Many scientists had returned home late two night ago after being missing for years, some only a few months, other nearly eight Gidea years. They were all saying that they had been imprisoned and made to work for the company. Currently the government was investigating and already more rooms of unwilling researchers had been found, nearly all had been reported as missing from a variety of different planets.

The investigation was still ongoing, but the reputation of the company had been damaged. Only time would tell how much.

#Name of Castle

Prompt: What is your favorite word? Write a scene around that word.

I was going to talk about my extensive planning this weekend and connect it to the word "therefore" since that is how we planned, x must happen, therefore y must happen first, and I'm not lying when I say therefore is a great word (it makes you sound intelligent and there are so many ways to stress it), but then I realized I could use a different word: harmony. A word invoking thoughts of peace, but also of music. Specifically all my happy memories as one of the Second Soprano Smoothie Sisters. As a bonus, I had actually already written this into my story this week. So what follows is a longer section of my writing this week because I am super proud of it.

But first a quick background. It takes place in the far future. They are on a quest to restore these temples across the star system. Spades is highly keyed into nature magic and is fiercely defending this place.

You will also notice a couple #'s in the text. I do this a lot for this I want to come back to since it is easily searchable. That being said, if you have any ideas for castle names leave them in the comments below!

Favourite writing from this week: 

   It was an unusual sight to be sure. Spinning columns of flame nearly seven feet high in a small range of warm colours surrounded the group. A deep blue flame was directly in front of them and seemed to be slightly taller than the others. Remarkably, the flames were not nearly as hot as they had assumed. Spades took one quick glance around them and decided she was not going to be intimidated.
   “What in the mustquaed do you think you are doing?” she demanded, marching right up to the blue one and stabbing her spoon in its direction.
   “Spades get away!” Nadir called frantically. “You are going to combust.”
   She paid him no mind. “You were charged with protecting this place. And look at it! No one takes care of it, there are holes in the roof, and now there are workers at this very moment setting explosives to decimate this temple. I had to activate the Doomsday protection. And where we you?”
   There was silence in the forest as Spades waited for an answer.
   “Spades,” Dr. Kear said hesitantly. “Those are just flames; I don’t think they can--”
   “We were watching.” It was a harmony of three voices that sounded in their minds. “We brought you here.” A major chord spread across three different octaves, it wasn’t hard to tell this was no mortal creature speaking. “We are but elementals, servants of the Great Mother. Our physical bodies died long ago. No mortal form has been strong enough to contain us.”
   “But you can move into any form?” Spades asked.
   “Yes. You would not survive though.”
   “I’m not thinking of myself.” She smiled and reached into her pocket, pulling out a small pouch. “These were given to me by the Goddess Kim. I believe they were meant for you.” She untied the string and flung the seeds out in front of her. As if time meant nothing, the seeds shot through early life stages before their eyes and transformed into strong birch trees.


   The elementals said nothing but one of the bright yellow flames zipped towards the closest tree and disappeared inside. The white bark faded to become the same bright yellow, but nothing else changed until it moved.
   The branches shivered and began waving about, testing their limits of motion. “It is stable.” A different chord, only in one octave, for this new speaker. “It will last.”
   The other flames now also merged into trees, creating a colourful and dynamic forest like none of them had seen before. Branches swayed and twisted, the trunks uprooted themselves and seemed to glide through the ground as if it were a liquid. The forest of flames began moving back towards the temple.
   “We thank you for the gift, Lady Spades of #name of castle.” The blue flame infused tree bent low and extended a thin branch towards her. It had a single vibrant cerulean leaf. “Take this leaf and use it to call my kin if you ever have need.”
   Spades plucked the leaf and carefully slipped it between two pages of a book in her bag. #does she even have a bag? I know Hannah and Ari do#
   The Seekers and Dr. Kear watched the leader move off to join his kin in chasing off the scientists and undoing the damage they had wrought.
   A round of yawns reminded them all that they had hardly slept since the morning and there was no reason for them to remain out here. Dr. Kear set off in the direction of her old home, hoping to see her parents, and the others begged Hannah to portal them back to the hotel as soon as they were alone. She rolled her eyes but was too tired to deny that a shortcut seemed best. She spread the paper on the forest floor, they all linked hands, and on the count of three they jumped.

If you write in the same notebook, you won't forget it places

Prompt: A character writes a secret message somewhere

I wrote nearly a thousand words this week in my nano story. This prompt really helped get the characters moving into the forest. The woman they have to guide them used to play in the forest as a child and had marked a symbol on a tree to mark the secret entrance into the temple.

I also forgot my notebook at the office in which I started the next chapter of a story which I had wanted to post today. Makes it a bit difficult.

It was hard to decide on a favourite bit of writing, but I am going for the bit of foreshadowing I planted in a spur of the moment decision.

Favourite writing from this week: Kalath’ka walked over but discovered that a force field of some kind gently steered her away from the book. ... Spades followed reluctantly behind, her fingers stroking the spine of the book as she walked past.