#ported from ff.net

[not-poignant]

Are there any fandoms you haven't written for yet but would like to in the future? Or future fanfic ideas/stories that have been on your mind that you want to do after you finish your other fanfics?

I love reading your replies 😊

There's...

There's so many, anon

You know how some people worry about running out of stories to write? Yeah, I'm out here begging my brain to shut the fuck up because I already have enough stories to write.

I don't have anything seriously on my mind. I have wanted to write for the Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji fandom, and the Bungou Stray Dogs fandom for a long time. I have another long Bull/Dorian/Cullen fic I want to write for Dragon Age but that might get superceded by the latest game coming out and new characters.

I also have quite a few original stories with completely original characters that I want to write.

And don't get me started on the amount of fandoms I want to write PWPs for because we'd be here all day. I've also written for additional fandoms and not ported my fics over from Livejournal and FF.net and other websites. So I'd say there's like another 10 fandoms I've written for where if you don't know my old usernames (no I'm not going to share them lmao), like...they're just floating out in the ether.

The ideas do not stop, and sometimes I am in bed like 'pls just...let me sleep' and they fall on me like when you open an overstuffed ADHDer's cupboard and everything falls on top of you at once sdalfkjdsa

[esta-elavaris]

Part Nineteen [2,416 words] ~ James Norrington/OC

An AU of my completed, 400k+ word fanfic Catch the Wind [AO3], in which Elizabeth, not James, is the one to discover Theodora Byrne after she crash-lands into the world of Pirates of the Caribbean.

Page breaks by cafekitsune.

Also now on AO3 and FF.net.

Masterlist of all chapters.

Tag list [let me know if you want to be added!]: @teawithshakespeare @missfronkensteen @dancerinthestorm

A/N: I did not intend to take such a long break from this – but I’m so grateful for how patient you all were!

When Theo received her own personal invite to Amelia Simmonds’ garden party a week after the incident, she had no idea if it was because of the incident and the boundless gossip opportunities it presented, or because Port Royal couldn’t keep a secret for shit and it was now common knowledge that she was being courted by Captain Norrington.

Back home, a garden party would be a boombox in the garden with a cooler full of beers, and a few different choices of Dorito flavours artfully bowled across a white plastic table. It was a bit of a different affair here. The patio doors were flung open and a string quartet was on standby to greet the guests as they filtered out into the hot Caribbean sun under blindingly bright dresses with matching parasols, where canapes and fine crystal glasses of indistinguishable beverages awaited them.

It wasn’t surprising to Theo – and it was probably less surprising to everybody else – that she had no idea how to act. Oh, in settings such as these she had long since learned to follow Elizabeth’s lead, but there was no lead to follow when it came to her new status as far as Port Royal’s most beloved captain was concerned. And not knowing how to act while also being under such heavy scrutiny? That was yet another source of pressure.

Yes, she could follow James’ lead, as well as guessing based on how they’d conducted their visits – for he had visited at least once every day while she ‘recovered’, even if his schedule meant that visit was a mere ten minutes between other things. And she’d found she’d begun to actively look forward to those visits, and was disappointed when they were over.

Oh, she was completely doomed.

Still, that doom came to her dressed dashingly as usual in his full formal get-up the moment she was alone, wielding a glass with some indiscernible liquid in each hand.

“For you,” he handed her one of the tiny glasses.

Theo peered at the glass, barely bigger than her thumb, her brow furrowed.

“It’s Bénédictine,” he said.

“Oh, I know, I just…I don’t know if I can manage all of this,” she said.

James sighed his impatience – fondly, at that – and she continued.

“I mean, look at that. You could drown in there. No, it’s just far too much. I get bored of all drinks after the first mouthful, and this? This has two. Maybe even three. I’ll never manage it.”

“I see you’re feeling better,” he said, a note of humour breaking up his rueful tone. “You must be, if you’re back to teasing me.”

She did feel better. Whatever she’d been plied with for the sake of her ‘nerves’ had, at the time, left her feeling a little foggy, and with a sense of contentment too blankets like and hazy to be real...and once it’d worn off, she’d paid the price for that. Something to do with burning through too much dopamine in too short a time, she suspected, leaving her to do without after the fact. That had been rough. But it hadn’t lasted long, no more than a day, considering she hadn’t been on the stuff long enough to warrant proper withdrawals. Mostly she’d been tired.

...And a little scared. All right, more than a ‘little’ scared. Of what was yet to come. Of the mess she’d gotten herself into. Of the choices she was still making, to be ‘courted’ by a man from the eighteenth century, who should not exist, who was doomed to die, who would hate her if he knew all she kept from him...and who she couldn’t possibly actually have any future with, even if she did manage to circumvent his fate. Right? Staying with him would mean...staying altogether.

And worse still, she wasn’t standing here wishing that she’d done anything differently. Was it any wonder she hadn’t had the heart to needle him?

“Did you miss it?” she asked. “The teasing?”

“More than I should admit.”

All those in attendance at the garden party – all of the eyes who sought to discern just how Port Royal’s newest courting couple would behave around one another – would have no difficulty seeing how she blushed then.

Clearing her throat, she did her best to ignore that blush and spoke. “No regrets on not choosing team shark, then?”

“None thus far. Ask me again in a week or two,” he said drily, a small smile playing on his lips.

“A week?” she gasped. “You think it’ll take that long? You absolute saint, you.”

That earned her a full-blown smile. At least until he made the mistake of casting a glance about those gathered – all of the eyes flickering to them from beneath parasols, over fans, and across drinks. It was enough to dampen his joy, a little, for he straightened, but the smile didn’t fully disappear. Discomfort, it seemed, more than embarrassment. That was a relief. An Irish castaway with no social standing, save for Governor Swann’s daughter having taken a fondness for her, was an unconventional choice, and James Norrington was nothing if not conventional. Or, well, that was how it was supposed to be for now.

“I do hope I’m the only one between us who has the feeling of being an exhibit at a zoo,” he remarked.

“You get used to it,” she offered quietly.

“I...yes. I suppose it’s been that way for you here since the beginning. And my saintly behaviour did not help.”

“Eh, it was a welcome distraction. Passed the time.”

“You’re too generous.”

Feeling bold, she disguised her next words behind a sip of the drink he’d brought her. “You’re too handsome.”

A shocked laugh sprang forth from him, followed by a good deal of spluttering before he finally cleared his throat and shook his head, pretending to find the nearest patch of grass incredibly fascinating. Her smugness lasted about as long as it took her to actually taste the contents of her glass, though, after which her nose wrinkled and she went back to nursing the glass, wondering how exactly she could get rid of it without looking like even more of a wildly uncultured swine.

“There was a matter I wanted to raise with you, while you’re here. I didn’t want to trouble you with it before, nor ruin our visits together...but...well...”

Now she was standing in the garden of the House of Simmonds, there wasn’t much to ruin. She didn’t voice that fact, but the knowing look she cast about the setting seemed to show him that she understood well enough.

“Your father,” he said finally.

“My father?” she echoed weakly.

“I know there are things you have yet to share with me,” a note of sourness threatened to seep into his voice, but he fought it valiantly. “And I shall not rush you. But...you were trying to reach him, yes? And he is...he is a military man? Those are parts of your tale that I never doubted.”

“Yeah- yes. Yes.”

“Would you allow me to begin the process of attempting to find him?”

Theodora stared. And he apparently took that as an answer, continuing quickly but firmly.

“I will not rush you, I spoke truthfully when I said that, I swear it. Not in this, nor in...nor in this,” he motioned, barely, in a way that indicated between the two of them. “But I am keenly aware, as I’m sure you are, that this is a process that may take some time. A long, long time. By the time letters fall into the wrong hands, then reach the right ones, and then receive responses. Is it not better to begin it now? And then the rest of the timing will be at our leisure. At your leisure.”

Pragmatic to a fault. And still too, too fucking good. Whatever he saw in her face, he apparently disliked, for he adjusted where he stood so that his back would block her face from the view of all others in attendance.

“The last thing I wish to do is make you uncomfortable. I’ve done enough of that. And I do not ask this for my own sake, so that we might- I wish to reunite you. Only that. And what else it may or may not bring can be discussed at a later date.”

“Can I think on it?” she asked quietly, finding herself completely unable to look at him.

The correct thing to do, from a standpoint of cold hard logic, would be to agree. To let this already impossibly busy and dutiful man take on extra work, chasing down someone who had not yet been born, for a woman he likely would no longer regard with any affection once he knew the truth. Because what reason could she have to disagree? His patience, on this matter, was a finite thing, and sooner or later he would need an explanation. Telling him no would shorten that span of time, but telling him yes would only have her deserving his hatred twofold, should the truth come out and he realises it was a pointless venture from the very beginning.

“Of course you can.”

Sighing, she almost brought the glass to her lips for another sip, just for something to do with her hands, before she remembered how foul it tasted and dropped it again. “He’d really like you, you know.”

“Only if you mask some of the finer details of these last few months,” he mused, though his eyes remained trained on her features, seeking out any hint of what she really wanted to say.

“I may be open to bribes.”

“I will keep that in mind.”

A few beats of silence passed, and then Theo straightened, hesitated, and sighed.

“James...”

“Hello, you two!” Elizabeth was on them then, lowering her voice after her initial sunny greeting. “I am here in a glowing display of proof that I am neither spurned nor offended. How am I faring?”

James coughed, his current resolution towards candour challenged by Elizabeth’s bluntness, but when his eyes found Theo’s face again, she met his gaze and found he was doing his utmost to show through eye contact alone that he was not angry with her. Frustrated, perhaps, but not angry. 

“Valiantly. You haven’t slapped me or anything,” she answered Elizabeth, spirits bolstered enough by that reassurance to joke a little.

“Miss Swann must be too frightened to do so, after your victory against your last foe.”

“The shark? That was your victory,” Theo pointed out.

“I shan’t claim it. Consider that my first of many bribes,” he replied drily. “And this the second.”

As he spoke, he plucked the glass from her hand and, after making sure the view of the others was fully shielded, emptied its contents into the grass. It was criminal for a grown man to be that adorable. Especially when his face softened at how his actions had her fighting back a smile.

“I’ll leave you two in peace. Miss Swann. Th- Miss Byrne.”

“You know, I never thought I’d see the day when anybody could make him forget formalities so easily. Perhaps you really are a witch,” Elizabeth murmured conspiratorially – mercifully, once he was out of earshot.

Theo didn’t respond.

“The two of you really are so precious, you know,” she prodded again.

“He wants to track down my dad.”

“What?”

“My father. He was asking permission to get the ball rolling to track him down, and reunite us.”

“Oh that’s so romantic!”

“Elizabeth.”

Never before had she felt such a keen need to monitor herself so closely – her tone, her expressions, her body language. For not only were all gathered here watching, but she knew James would be too, trying to get a sense of her reaction when she mightn’t feel the need to filter it for his sake. For he knew that Elizabeth knew everything. And she could therefore be more forthcoming with her. If she freaked out now, if she spoke in anything other than a casual tone, with anything but a smile on her face, he’d grow more suspicious. He’d demand answers sooner.

And if he did that? She’d have a mind to just tell him the bloody truth and be done with it. But that wasn’t possible. Was it?

“What? It is! I’d never say it in front of him, I know how easily he embarrasses, but even you can’t deny it’s terribly sweet-”

“Elizabeth.”

“What, Theo?” Elizabeth laughed impatiently, evidently frustrated that she was equally thrilled alongside her.

“What am I supposed to say?” she said through a smile that was more just like gritted teeth. “What am I supposed to tell him?!”

“The only thing you can tell him. Yes. It’ll be a grave insult otherwise,” Elizabeth replied as though it were obvious. 

“So I’m supposed to just let him chase after someone who doesn’t exist?”

“It’ll make him happy!”

“And then when he finds out the truth?”

“...If he finds out the truth, you can handle it when it comes.”

There were times, when she spent time with Elizabeth, where she marvelled at how all of the divides between them made little difference. Those of the times, lifestyles, wealth, and even age. This was not one of those times.

“It’s not that simple.”

“Of course it is!” Elizabeth insisted, appearing irked at her now. “Enough of this, for now. We can’t be seen to be bickering now, they’ll assume the worst. We can discuss this later, Theo, but really you do have to tell him yes. He’ll think you’re not serious about him, otherwise! And then all of this heartache will have been for nothing! When you’re both so happy!”

We can discuss this later sounded a whole lot like I can explain why I’m right later, but Theo shoved down her annoyance, and her panic, and mostly just wished she’d suffered the damn Bénédictine after all. Maybe it would’ve been strong enough to chill her out.

That wish doubled in on itself when she noticed Groves weaving his way through the crowd, and Elizabeth murmured.

“I suppose I’m not the only one who needs to put on a show of not feeling spurned. Although mine may have been rather more truthful.”

Theo said nothing. At this rate, she’d be checking to see if Amelia was stocking vodka.

[caitylove]

20 questions for fic writers

I was tagged by @holy-ships-x-red-lips! Thank you so much for the tags. You have given me a lovely way to procrastinate right now. :)

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? Only 16, but there are also fics out there on LJ that I was too lazy (or were just too bad) to find on the group events I posted on and port over. There are also some other ff.net fics on another account that I forgot about, but were from when I was in high school so totally not bringing those over either.

2. What's your total Ao3 word count? 78,839. I expect that to drastically change once I start publishing my one long wip...

3. What fandoms do you write for? Currently I mostly write Battlestar Galactica (spaceparents ftw) and some The Closer/Major Crimes (I'm a Brenda/Sharon heathen. ) But in the past I wrote for Rizzoli and Isles and Grey's Anatomy. There's also some X-files fic out there and a CSI one somewhere.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Caffeine (Rizzoli & Isles): What happens when Maura consumes an excessive amount of caffeine?

So major note this fic is literally like 12 years old. And super short. And honestly not good lol.

Break All The Rules For You (The Closer/Major Crimes): Sharon Raydor has a list of rules she lives her life by. But Brenda Leigh Johnson very might be the catalyst for her to break each and every one.

This is actually my current active posting WIP. I'm amused it got so many kudos so fast. Guess I'm not the only heathen out there. :)

Frak Me Red (Battlestar Galactica): Wanting Laura to feel good about herself, Bill finds her the perfect gift and they spend an exciting weekend away on shore leave aboard Cloud 9.

Part of my Cosmetics Series. This was a blast and like 70% pure smut.

Pain Management (Battlestar Galactica): Dealing with pain during her cancer treatments, Laura is suggested an unorthodox treatment plan.

This was actually my first fic back after a ten year writing hiatus... :) Never let anyone tell you that you can't return after a long time away.

Spray and Stay (Battlestar Galactica): Laura has a secret addiction that is slowly running out and she can't help but show off her addiction to Bill.

The first part of my Cosmetics Series. Also 50% smut. :)

5. Do you respond to comments? Absolutely. So, I work from home and like responding to them instead of working sometimes.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? So I don't have a ton of angst honestly. So I guess the ending of Auburn Sunsets, Starlit Nights (Battlestar Galactica) is the angstiest? (Or meanest?)

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? So like 80% of my stuff is smut... so they all have HAPPY ENDINGS. *snicker*. But I guess I'll go with Frak Me Red ?

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not really. Probably did on some of my old FF.net stuff but don't care enough to go back and look.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yes. Like thats half of what I write. :)

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? Not in a long time. But once upon a time I wrote a Grey's Anatomy Zombie fic that had a Doctor House appearance. Its somewhere on LJ. It was BAD, but I am so tempted to find it now for my own amusement.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I am aware of

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope. Feel free to reach out if you want to tho.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? No, but definitely open to it.

14. What's your all time favorite ship? So probably Bill/Laura(Spaceparents) from BSG. But Also have a soft spot for Sharon/Brenda (The Closer), MSR (The X-Files), Swan Queen, Janeway/Chakotay, Femshep/Garrus, to name a few.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Love Games. My 12 year old the Closer fic I never finished. May rewrite it one day but I will never just finish it as it exists today.

16. What are your writing strengths? I like to think I do a lot of emotional introspection well. And Smut. I can do smut.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Honestly, I struggle with dialogue.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? As long as its translated or explained, I'm fine with it. Probs would never do it, cause my language skills suck, but wouldn't mind reading.

19. First fandom you wrote for? CSI! I wrote a Grissom/Sara fic back in the day. I was in like High School.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Thats like asking me my favorite children! My favorite is one I am still writing and haven't published yet, The Symposium of the Stars. One day it'll make an appearance.

But for published? I really loved Auburn Sunsets, Starlit Nights. I have a soft spot for it.

Tagging: @lavenderknivess, @mimine666, @madelineusherspearls. @ofhouseusher, @cryscal, @fracktastic, and anyone else who feels like it :)

[etherealvoidechoes]

Rage Against the Dying of the Light Pt 1 of 4

Commander Thaddeus Seaver had been rescued by XCOM. The process of removing him from the stasis suit begins with a rough start. Things only grow worse once he wakes up.

Weird how a sickness made me hyperfocus on this. Just hope I can transfer this over to other endeavors.

So a fic for my other Commander, Thaddeus Seaver. His rescue and awakening have been haunting my dreams for a bit. So here's a 4-parter.

The usual warnings for blood, violence, and language. Some suicidal thoughts and attempted misguided murder.

Ao3|| FF.net|| Fic Wiki Hub

1(You are here)||2||3||4

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The fog in Thaddeus’ mind was slowly lifting. Gears slowly clicked into place and turned. All so painfully slow. He always hated the feeling of his consciousness trying to reassert itself after being pulled from the System for a check-up. There was a faint buzzing in the back of his mind. How long would he be himself before They crushed his consciousness back into that dark corner or rifled through it again to find something from the past?

What fresh hell awaits me this “check-up?”

Yet… Everything felt off. 

As more sensations turned on, he could perceive his surroundings. Everything around him shook and rattled. He felt himself being lifted a few times and each time he was set down there was a solid thud. They were never this rough when moving him around. He was a prized asset. 

And then their voices. It was always muffled in the Stasis Suit, but he could tell whoever was handling him sounded rushed. Almost panicked. 

“Bring him over here!” An older female voice said. “And everyone else, clear out! I want this place as sterile as possible!”

“John, you need to get yourself checked out.” A male voice said.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” A male voice gruffly replied. “Barely a scratch.”

“Barely a scratch? They got your back! You’re freakn’ bleeding!”

“For the love of… Get your butt over there and get treated, John! You were shot, for God’s sake!” The female voice chastised him. 

“Doctor Tyler…” 

They nearly got into a cursing match until she reminding him, “you want to be alive when we pull him out?” That silenced him.

As he listened, he noticed they all sounded… human. That was different.

Some rebels found where you were keeping me? Or is it another fault in the system? Another screw-up with my health? Hope the feedback kills me this time.

If there was another fault with his health, he knew They would do everything to keep him alive. All the experiments and modifications. What was even left of him?

He felt the movement come to a slow stop before he felt himself being lifted once more and moved.

“Carefully! There’s potentially decades of atrophy to contend with!” There was another voice. Male. He sounded much calmer and more level-headed than the others. 

“Wish we had more time.” A young female voice said. There was some faint stress in it.

He then heard the faint clicking. Must have been the connection ports on the suit.

Hm. Human. One who values their life since they’re having to remind everyone of my state. Come on, eyes, get that sensation back already before they suppress it fully…. Wait… that’s off.

Though his body felt numb and distant from him, he could tell the usual suppressants to keep him down weren’t flowing through his system. Recalling the clicking, he waited for his body and mind to be taken from him again. But nothing happened. But that faint buzzing in the back of his mind didn’t fade.

“I don’t disagree. But as it stands now, we risk losing the patient if we don’t being the removal procedure immediately.” That male voice spoke again.

Something is wrong. Catastrophic level. Must be dire if they are slipping up and missing steps. I may have a chance before one of the Elders shows up… Come on body…

Exerting what strength he had, his eyes scrunched together several times until they cracked open, only to slam shut due to a bright light. He went through the same motions again, this time opening his eyes more slowly so they could adjust. As they did, everything was a hazy blur before his vision cleared. Red glass greeted his eyes as well as a silhouette on the other side of it. He could feel the person touching the mask, clearing it of the liquid and fog on the outside.

Older male with glasses. And a young female. Don’t recognize the faces. Thaddeus made notes in his mind. But why should he care? Not like he’d remember any of them again once he was back under.

“Okay, all non-essential personnel have been removed. This place isn’t as sterile as I would like, Tygan.” Dr. Tyler said. “I wish we had more time to prepare. Who knows if the Elders have been keeping his immune system healthy?”

Thaddeus heard someone faintly curse in the background before muttering that never crossed his mind.

“I don’t disagree, Tyler. Do you have the injections prepared? Just in case…?” Dr. Tygan asked.

“Prepared and maintained months ago. Have to see if I can get the Medical team to make an isolated suite for him once we get him out of this suit.”

“Good. A wise plan. Let’s also send any and all vitals monitoring data currently being pulled from the suit to the team.”

He felt another click, followed by a twist and a lock to the side of the helmet.

“We’re ready.” The young female voice said.

There seemed to be a pause as Tygan was examining something. 

“Good. Then let’s get on with it.” The gruff male voice was closer than before.

“John…” Tyler nearly hissed. “You should be in the Infirmary. That patch-up isn’t—.”

“I’m fine, doctor.” But a stifled grunt following that statement said otherwise.

Tch. Someone’s stubborn. Thaddeus chuckled in his mind. With how militant they are, would guess they’re an Officer, but don’t have that flanging voice. Unless the Elders are trying to make ones that sound more human.

And he got his answer as the man came into view. Another human. Older. Face matches the attitude. Can’t say I don’t like it. 

Tygan’s hand moved around the helmet, one sitting dead center on the helmet. There was a click, then a high-pressured hiss as air escaped.

If he could have hissed, he would have as the faceplate to the helmet was removed and the full unfiltered light hit his eyes. And the pressure change made his ears popped. And that buzzing sensation spiked for a moment.

More protocols are being skipped. Yeah, something is wrong wrong. That buzzing is getting stronger. Feeling the feedback. They didn’t disconnect me properly.

“Remarkable.” Tygan said.

“Just like 20 years ago...” Bradford said. There was a faint waver in his voice. A mix of excitement that the Commander, his friend, was alive. But also pain as memories of the past came to the forefront of his mind.

“Move back, please.” Tyler nearly shoved Bradford out of the way.

He grumbled before continuing his thought. “… we were still calling it a war back then. We had no idea what was coming.”

It took some time for the pain in Thaddeus’ ears to fade; the buzzing stayed the same. As it did, his eyes fluttered open, nearly sealing shut again as another bright light shined in them. With a few blinks, he adjusted to all of it.

“His pupils are dilating and tracking just fine.” Tyler said. “And… hm.”

Now he had a better look at her. All of them, but he focused on her. Pale to fair skin. Black hair. And she wore red-tinted glasses that were hanging halfway off of her face.  She looked to be the only one wearing a face mask. Looked like someone cared.

“Hm?” Tygan pressed.

“You’ll see.” She took a step back.

Tygan’s eyes lit up before he leaned in. “I see.”

Shock was apparent on Bradford’s face. Tyler had to put a hand on his chest to keep him from leaning in too far. “What the hell? These scars… His eyes… His eye.”

Though it had been 20 long years since Bradford had seen Thaddeus last, he remembered the Commander’s scars. Three slashes on the left side of his face. Got them in a knife fight. Two were just on the corner of his lips, bother starting from his chin and one nearly going to his nose, and the third was the corner of his jaw going halfway up his cheek. And the other scar was on the right side of his face. Scattered scars caused by a glancing bullet. They started at the corner of his jaw and went halfway up and across his cheek.

Yet there were new ones. A vibrant red slash of a mark trailing across the bridge of his nose and face. Bradford’s mind quickly figured the Muton that nearly cracked his skull open caused that when he was captured. But the other one was shocking. Twice over. His eyes. Both eyes had a few dark red scar-like tears underneath them. And his left eye… the sclera of his left was pitch black while the iris was blue and glowing. The other eye looked normal, with a light hazel brown iris.

“Doctors…” Bradford turned to them.

“It’s not an immediate worry.” Tyler said.

“But it has been noted.” Tygan added. “Let’s see his other vitals. Lily. Tyler.”

“We’re monitoring.” Both answered in unison.

Guess the Elders didn’t warn them that They did a number on my face. Sometimes he wondered if he still looked human.

Feeling that buzz in the back of his head grow, Thaddeus closed his eyes tightly as the faintest of grunts came out. For a moment, everything went black as a memory forcefully shoved itself to the forefront of his mind. Memories of the past. The War with the aliens. XCOM. The main HQ. What was happening around the world.

It all flashed by at a sickening pace. He could feel the old stress reverberate through every part of his body.

Ugh… the feedback.

As quickly as it all came, it faded. The world and his vision came back.

“… response from the cerebral cortex. Good. Prepping for cranial intrusion.” 

He barely caught the words of Dr. Tygan as he came to again. But what he saw next caused another set of memories to come crashing in. The device the doctor had raised, activated, and brought to his face, reminded him of what had happened 20 years ago when the aliens had him.

They had him. Body immobilized in some alien surgery table. There was an Elder there. Or were there two? It didn’t matter. The Elder was scouring his mind, keeping it subdued as they gave instructions to a Thin Man. It held a device just like the doctor, more alien in design. They brought it to his face, opened his mouth, and inserted it. The moment he felt it pierce the back of his throat, he felt his mind fully being arrested from him. His prison for the next 20 years.

His mind stayed on the memory for an uncomfortable amount of time. He was barely conscious of what this Tygan was doing but could feel he was examining his mouth and making incisions.

“… I’ve managed to identify the connection. Different from the standard practice… Preparing to make the final incision.”

Thaddeus felt the cold metal touch his tongue and press further back before it suddenly stopped.

“These readings are getting really erratic.” Shen said, voice laced with concern.

“Of course they are. These—” Tygan said. Before he could continue, Tyler butted in.

Tyler cursed under her breath. “I’m seeing some sort of feedback on his nervous system. Pathways across his brain are lighting up. The abrupt removal from the System must be the cause…”

“There is that possibility, too. These implants were never designed to be removed. Especially his…  We are risking severe—”

“No Plan B here people.” Bradford cut them off. “Do it!”

As Thaddeus came to again, the doctor had another similar but different colored device in his hand and inserted it. He felt a pinch and then a pull. With that pull, he felt a surge of electric pain course through his body as whatever it was was pulled out. As it passed the threshold of his mouth, he felt the oppressive buzz in the back of his mind disappear. His thoughts felt… freer. But only for a moment, as more memories came crashing through.

They jumped back and forth during those long few, painful years of the War and the World submitting to alien rule. The cities wiped off the map. The millions killed. The peace treaties. The formation of this ADVENT. The bases under attack. The explosions. Fires. That smell. That Muton that rushed him. He barely deflected two strikes before the third found his face. The whole world came crashing down that day.

Then his mind flashed forward. To his imprisonment in this Tactical Network ADVENT used. It jumped from ADVENT soldier to soldier, their viewpoints as they oppressed the world. Then his mind jumped again. To several instances when the Elders would pull him from the system, from out of the suit to experiment on him and pull at his mind. He spiraled down, down, down.

“Doctors!” Shen yelled. The vitals looked worse.

“This was a possibility… the feedback is growing worse.” Tyler said tersely.

Thaddeus let out a yell. His back arched as he rose from the table as that strangled yell came out. It sounded sounded like two beings were screaming as one. Something inside was breaking. Then everything went black.

That startled everyone.

All the vitals spiked before they crashed. His back hit the table with a hard thud. A long eerie beep filled the room as the doctors worked to bring him back.

“No signal…” Shen said.

“No, no, no…” Bradford muttered. How he wished he could do something, but it was out of his purview. “Come on Thadd, you can beat this.”

For Thaddeus, everything was still dark. Like a void had swallowed him. Body, mind, and soul. But he felt something. Something reached out to him. It felt familiar, but cold at first. As it enveloped him, it became a warm embrace.

No. He felt his voice in his mind. A series of his voice in different tones and then another. One that sounded more alien as it had a wispy echo to its voice. Now is not our time to die.

He could see it, faintly piercing through the darkness. A ghostly four-armed form reached out to him. He felt something click and connect in his mind and body, weaving together that something that broke just as everything went dark.

It is not our time. Stay strong. Endure as I have. Endure till we meet again.

Then he felt more connections. Other voices. They sounded both human and alien. He too could feel them reinforcing what the other was doing to his body and mind. No. It is not time for you to perish. Let his work be for naught. Let their work be for naught. Rise again, human. Rise again, Ethereal one. This world still has a chance at freedom. Before the Broken One finds and consumes your world.

Then he felt one more. Or was is it two? Either way, they were cold. Very cold. Like the deep abyss of the ocean. He felt this connection sweep around him, drowning that warm embrace as it touched his body in several places. Then something caressed his head. A whisper soon followed.

The ichor flows. I taste the pain. He tastes your pain and the same with your world. The voice shifted to the other side of his head. Will you embrace and choose life? The voice shifted again to the other side. Or find release from your torture in oblivion? 

He felt this voice grow closer until he felt those other connections suddenly snap at it and push it away. 

Away with you. Sad, twisted thing.

Before it was fully pushed away, it parted with one last thing.

Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

As the feeling surged through him, it all faded. The world was coming back. Thaddeus let out a series of pained gasps.

 That eerie, droning beep was replaced by a more steady one. The tense atmosphere in the room had faded.

Thaddeus’ eyes fluttered open again only for him to close them. Or attempt to as a hand forced them back open.

“… pupillary response normal. Vitals stabilizing. Procedure complete.” Tygan said. A smile graced his face.

A faint grunt left Thaddeus’ lips as soon as the doctor’s hands were off his face. He slowly shook his head. It took him a moment to realize he could somewhat move. He was usually more immobilized than this.

“Told ‘em  it would take more than that to keep you down.” Bradford said. He shifted to look at the man. A faint smirk graced his face. Just who was he? “Welcome back… Commander.”

Commander? Does he know me? He couldn’t recognize the man’s face or voice. No, no, no… this could be an elaborate trick by the Elders. Wouldn’t be the first time They forced a “rescue” scenario in my mind to break me.

Thaddeus studied his face as long as he could, trying to connect him with someone from the past but nothing ever clicked before he passed out again.

“Let him rest.” Tyler said. “His vitals have stabilized, but his neural pathways are quite sensitive. I’m picking up faint psionic readings too.”

“I will, doctor.” Bradford rolled his eyes. “I’ll pay a visit a few hours after you guys have moved him. Need to prep some things for him to read.”

“Sounds good and—” She paused as she caught what he meant. “Not so fast with that.”

“What now?”

“We will have to piecemeal that information. He’s been stuck in that prison for 20 years. We have no idea what his mental state may be. Hell, we don’t know just exactly what the Elders did to him besides the theories!”

Bradford wanted to roll his eyes. “I know. I’m not going to share sensitive information with him. I know how that could make him spiral. It’s just the basics. I’ll have Dr. Veer go over it and talk to you.”

Tyler opened her mouth before slamming it shut. “Fine. Fine. I’ll be waiting for her contact. And get your butt to the Infirmary so they can treat your wounds.”

Bradford was about to talk back, but a solid shove from Shen cut him off.

“I’ll make sure he gets there!” Shen said. “Come on uncle~” She said. She faintly giggled when Bradford told her to watch the shoving. “I’ll keep you guys in the loop as I go over the details we pulled from the suit.”

“Thank you, Shen.” Tygan said. “We will be out of your Workshop shortly once the team gets here with the gurney so we can more him to the sterile room. Once we have removed the patient from the suit, we will be sending it down to the Labs. Your workers can collaborate with mine.”

“Got it, doc!”

With a few more shoves, Shen got Bradford out of the room and upstairs to the Infirmary before heading back to her Workshop. As she reached the Workshop, the doctors were moving the Commander out and up to the Infirmary.

———————————————

The Infirmary. They had cordoned off some space in the back to act as the “sterile room” for the Commander. 

At the moment, they were moving from the gurney onto a more advanced medical bed. They connected various tubes and wires to the suit to take his current vitals before disconnecting everything. All was looking good.

Now they just had to remove him from the Stasis Suit. They hoped this task would be much calmer than what had happened when they removed the chip. Thaddeus was still unconscious.

Much to the doctors’ annoyance, Bradford was poking his head in now and then while he was getting his gunshot wounds treated. Eventually, Tyler relented and told him he could enter after his treatment was done, he was fully sterilized and wore some PPE. She figured since he knew Thaddeus well, perhaps he would pick up if anything was off with his body that the files they recovered from old Archives wouldn’t tell. He had pointed out the scars and discolored eye earlier. 

And perhaps this would keep the Acting Commander calmer and keep him from interrupting their work.

“Lift him carefully. We still don’t know the level of atrophy his body has suffered.” Tygan said.

“Let’s get the bottom section of that helmet off.” Tyler said.

With a few clicks and some more hissing, the bottom half of the helmet opened and began to disconnect.

“What the…” Tyler noticed something interesting. “Tygan, get over here.”

“Hm?” He came over and peered over his shoulder. Both brows raised. “That is… unexpected.”

“I’ve never seen something like this. Or the implants.”

As she was pulling away the bottom half, there were several tendrils connecting Thaddeus to several ports inside of the helmet. They looked organic, a translucent fluid dripped from them as they faintly wriggled. And then, towards the back of his head, there was something faintly golden. Until the helmet was removed, she couldn’t get a better look at it.

“They line up to the ports one would find on an ADVENT Hybrid.” Tygan took note.

“Correct. Still, I have never seen anything like this. How are we going to remove this? I don’t want to cut them just in case that could cause issues.”

“Hm.” Tygan examined them for a while longer. “Continue the removal process. Perhaps they will disconnect once enough tension is applied.”

Tyler just nodded and continued.

As she did so, the tendril tensed, pulling back against her for just a moment before releasing their grip on the helmet. As they did so, they retreated back into Thaddeus’ flesh, sealing the hidden ports like they never existed.

“Full body scans are in order once he’s out of this. And let’s check the data banks for any info on these kind of implants.” Tyler said.

Bradford entered the room just as Tyler had pried off the helmet and they were starting to open the suit. He didn’t catch what they had initially witnessed with the tendrils, but noticed something more shocking to him.

“What the hell is wrong with his neck?” 

Wrapping around the majority of the back of Thaddeus’ neck, partially creeping towards the front, was a massive gnarled scar. The flesh was a mix of red and pink tones. That wasn’t there 20 years ago. If he recalled correctly, a tattoo was there. Flowers. He couldn’t recall the type of flowers, but he remember they were flowers there in the past.

“And what the hell is that!?”

Then the other thing that caught his eye was more concerning. One just below his shaved hairline. It was raised, metal, and golden. It took the shape of a segmented diamond. In the center of it was a circle with a more traditional-looking connection port which was quickly covered by flesh once the helmet was fully removed.

“Calm down, John.” Tyler was not in the mood for his outbursts. “We don’t know. We are taking note of it.”

He quieted himself and just watched.

As they began to remove the suit, Bradford nearly had another outburst as he witnessed the tendrils connected to several hidden ports across his back and there was another similar segmented diamond implant just at the top of his spine. But this one was different. It was raised like the other, but underneath and intersecting some points was a black base with a dark blue outline that took the shape of an inverted triangle. At each point of the triangle, there were three insertion-style ports. These did not cover themselves in flesh once the tendrils retreated, instead, a golden cover appeared over them.

As they continued to remove the suit, a similar implant was found at the base of his spine, but the triangle underneath the diamond was right side up.

Prying the rest of him out, a few more hidden ports were found across his chest and limbs, but nothing like the implants on his back.

“What the hell did They do to you?” Bradford spoke his thoughts as he watched the doctors examine Thaddeus’ back. What he thought was only a scar on the man’s neck extended all the way down his spine. Was his back broken when he was captured? What were those implants for? Many negative thoughts ran through his mind. 

He shook his head. He didn’t need to dwell on the negative. That would just drag him into dark places. Instead, he focused on the tattoos. 

His eyes bounced from tattoo to tattoo. Taking note of each on that survived. “At least your other tattoos survived.”

The first he noticed was a vine of fan-like leaves trailing up from his left thigh to his left side. Then there were two twisted rose branches full of thorns wrapped around his upper right arm, and the other was just above his left wrist. And the last were two on each shoulder. Three abstract elongated diamond eyes encircling a small star underneath. 

It made him smile. “Her handiwork survived.”

“Everything is looking good, according to the preliminary scans.” Tyler said.

“This is remarkable. His body is in good condition despite the years in suspended animation.” Tygan said.

“He looks thinner.” Bradford noted. “He’s lost some muscle mass.”

Tygan nodded. “That was expected. The muscle atrophy is not as dire as we initially assumed. Once he’s awake and more lucid, we can gauge what therapy he will need.”

“Any clue on the implants.?” He asked.

Tygan shook his head. “Nothing matches what we have in the archives. I’ve never seen this during my time with ADVENT. Same with other personnel who worked ‘behind the scenes’. ”

Bradford grumbled at that. “Hm, take some pictures. I want to see if the Skirmishers know anything about this.” They were the first faction to cross his mind. Former ADVENT. They would probably know the various implants the Elders used. Especially the higher-ranking soldiers.  “And the Void Walkers, they’re great at finding the obscure.” Another faction that dealt with information and resources trading. They had a knack for getting near-impossible information. For a price, of course.

“Of course. I was thinking the Skirmishers could be of assistance.”

The physical examination continued for a few more hours.

Someone finally ushered Bradford out of the Infirmary and to his Quarters for a well-deserved nap. The adrenaline from the operation finally started to wane and they did not want another patient to work on.

———————————————

A few days had passed. Thaddeus was still being kept in the Infirmary. They wouldn’t be moving him until he woke up and they could do some psychological exams.

He was still out. His eyelids would move. A limb would twitch. And some murmurs would leave his mouth, but he didn’t wake up.

The examinations continued through those days. A few were to see if they could cause those hidden ports and tendrils to emerge. Nothing they did could force them out but they noted each location with great accuracy.

Besides the physical tests, they ran some blood tests. His immune system wasn’t neglected, but they still gave him some boosters so he could acclimate to the Avenger and her crew with minor discomfort.

As they sequenced his DNA, comparing it to his old one recovered from one of the old data centers, they noticed there were some changes. With several focusing on his nervous system and synaptic connections. Dr. Tyler wondered if that was why she noticed the psionic activity when they were removing the chip from him. She passed the information over to Dr. Marin and Quinn. That was their expertise.

So far, it didn’t look like alien DNA had been inserted, but more thorough sequencing and scans would be needed.

Bradford’s inquiries with the Skirmishers lead nowhere. None of them had seen implants like that. The implants they, their kin, and the aliens had were rarely ever hidden and they knew nothing about the diamond ones.

He was still waiting for a reply back from the Void Walkers. They supposedly had a lead but wanted to double-check it. Bradford was a fine client. They didn’t want to lose him if their information was poor.

For now, XCOM worked on gathering more resources, hunting down leads, expanding its reach, and preparing for the next batch of operations. 

[kurokoros]

so sorry cause i’m sure u get asked this too much. old fairy tail fan, used to read ur stuff on ff, went and saw ur update from last year on berserk about moving it to ao3 and maybe writing more. i didn’t see it on ao3 so safe to assume you’ve let that story rest? just want to make sure im not missing it lol

I do plan on porting everything over to AO3 at some point (because who knows when FF.net is going to shut down or crash), but right now I'm like 99% sure I'm rawdogging ADHD and I constantly forget things.

I'll for sure be moving Berserk over (and tentatively doing some edits if I have the energy or motivation, but I fear that it would require a lot of overhauling) at some point!

[generalluxun]

Fanfic Author 20 Questions

Thanks to @erisluna35 for sending this along! 1. How many works do you have on AO3?

On AO3? Right now 63, soon to be 64(tomorrow probably) and a couple on FF.net

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

1,020,860 on AO3 plus another ~86K fic I never ported over to AO3, as my 'recent' stuff, starting back in 2021

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mostly Miraculous Ladybug, I did others a long time ago before joining AO3, but that was a long time ago. I've considered a couple others recently too, but nothing yet.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

At The Gala- A Chlonette fic inspired by fanart, and actually the sequel to my #2 by Kudos. This is just a cute series of strange interactions with Chloe from Marinette's PoV, culminating in understanding and discovery on a fated evening.

Slippery slope- Little Chlonette ficlet inspired by a fanart. Very short, it's about how a single unexpected moment can change someone's entire world.

Ever After- A long chapter fic set more than a decade post-canon that looks into the idea that 'Ever After' can be a long time, and that expecting life to be solved at 14 is a recipe for eventual disaster. Yet at the same time life continues to offer new experiences, new possibilities, and new ways to grow. Ships include Adrienette, Chloadrien, and Felinette.

Showing Love- An alternate ending to Queen Wasp, where instead of reuniting Chloé with her horrible mother by highlighting everything horrible about her (seriously, what?) Marinette comes face to face with the reality that a mother really *can* not love a child. Being Marinette she can't let such a thing stand, even if it is Chloé. Marinette&Dupain-Cheng family goodness.

What Do you See?- Adrigami fic that kicks off right in the middle of Kuro Neko. While Adrien is struggling with the pain of giving up Cat Noir, one thing crosses his mind. He can finally give one important person the truth she deserves. After all, he *Was* Cat Noir, not *is*. The two both struggle to navigate the ramifications of this revelation, especially when Plagg shows up once more with the ring. (there's a little bit of eventual Lukanette)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to respond to most, especially any questions or curiosities. I love engagement.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Oh heck this is so not fair. I am in love with bittersweet ending, and have a couple of doozies.

I can't decide between three.

What Happened- The 'real reason' Chloé Bourgeois's redemption arc failed. What do you di when you do everything right, only to find out your happiness causes the end of the world, in every timeline?

A Modest Proposal- Marinette is happily impatient for Adrien to finally propose to her. Little does she know, a secret long kept is going to come back to haunt her. It's worse than you think.

The Risk Outweighs- A look into someone else's life during the episode 'Risk'. The courage to do anything finally gives Chloé the strength to break from the cycle. But the Ladybugs must set things right, and a few moments of clarity weigh nothing against a lifetime.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Again, lots with happy endings, though I prefer 'open' endings, so...hmmm

Cafe Noir- has an unambiguously happy ending, but I specifically set out to write a romcom so that feels like cheating.

Dog Daze- probably has the most comprehensively happy ending, Adrien's dad even managed to try to parent. They do go through a lot on the way to the happy ending though.

In Direct Opposition- My latest work, seems to end on a solidly happy note for all involved.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Ever After drew some upset people that expected their OTP to be the main ship. I never tried to deceive anyone, but a few people were just really upset.

I also had this weird thing where someone thought I was someone else, and stalked my comments for a while. That's why I use moderation now.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I've done M rated fics. I'm not sure 'smut' works for them, even if there's lots of sex narratively, it's usually mentioned rather than being detailed. I did one single 'this will be a smut fic' fic. And even that ended up with like, 5K words mostly plot, and about 2 paragraphs of (I think emotional and important) sex.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Nah, I've never had the crossover itch. I generally find each world intriguing enough on their own.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of...

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yep! I had someone ask if they could translate one of my fics to Russian.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope. Talked about it before, but never went through with it. Not against the idea. I do a lot of rubber ducking for my friends though, so some of my ideas can end up in their finished fics.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

I'm going ot have to go with adribrina, my goobers. I like exploring all kinds of ships, and these two I threw together on a whim but Oh, they're so comfy! I wrote Puppy Love to see how they would work, and then that evolved into Dog Daze, my Largest work to date. I had *intended* for them to amicably break up and Sabrina to be a wing-woman to Adrien in the canon ship of Adrienette.... but they just did not want to break up. Even if they wouldn't admit they were dating, they were just too *comfy* together. These two make me happy. (Marinette ended up okay though, she's happy!)

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

A third fic in my Senti-Sentai AU. 'Worlds Collide'. It was set in 'vague eastern Europe country in the middle of violent conflict' and then that suddenly got too real, too quickly.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Character voice. I write third person limited, and I've been told many times that I do a very good job of writing characters as their canonical selves, just in different situations that bring about different outcomes or changes in them. I consider that a high compliment, because the characters are what I am here for.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Brevity. Even simplistic plots 'enemies to friends road trip' become detailed 'Marinette manipulates Chloé into chasing Adien and Lila across the globe to prevent Lila from wheedling an arranged Marriage out of Gabriel' and then that blossoms into a 98K fic.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I feel like my last of understanding grammar and colloquialisms for another language would have me sounding like bad google translate. Singular words used? Viable.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

SWATKats. My first ever fanfic was a 30K fic about that show.

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

They are all my babies! This is so not fair. I've spoken about some of my favorites earlier though, so I'll use this spot to mention some other ones :)

He's Perfect- Gothic Horror Adrienette! It even has a sequel and an entire AU in my head if I can circle back.

The Orphan and the Marionette- Written to feel like one of Grimm's fairy tales. Chlonette(kind of) with a heavy dose of magic and a surprise appearance from Marianne.

There are so many more but I'll plug Dog Daze again, because I to like how it flows and the alternate S5 we get from it. It also inspired a raft of 'post story' one shots, and I have another chapter fic waiting in the wings to continue the AU. There's plenty of stories to tell here.

@taketwoinink Tag, if you would like to play.

[the-cosmic-blogger]

Taking a break from ONE posting to give you yet another port and collab from FF.net! :3

Be warned: it's pretty dark.. the tags have all you need to prepare yourself. Proceed wisely.

Enjoy!!

[toriwritesstories]

No one tagged me in one of these but I saw the questions and wanted to participate hehe

20 Questions for Fic Writers

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

53 total, technically 1 of those is under a different pseud because it's the only fic I ported from FF.net onto Ao3 and I used my FF username as the pseud for that reason.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 

Just checked and apparently it is 2,416,967 .... sooo that's totally normal right?!?!!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I struggle to write for more than 1 fandom at a time so right now I'm pretty much only writing Shadowzel from BG3.

BUT the others I've written for are, in order of recency:

Hosie from Legacies

Deanoru from The Runaways

Choni from Riverdale

Clexa from The 100

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? 

Pretty sure that they're all going to be Clexa but lemme go pull the list...

1) Pristine (Clexa)

2) Come With Me (Clexa)

3) Lift Me, Catch Me (Clexa)

4) Still Made of Gold (Clexa)

5) Online Lifeline (Clexa)

Yep, no surprises there. But actually my 6th is Choni: She Didn't Know It Then but seems like my older fics from the fandom that was probably the biggest I've been in have the most kudos, makes sense to me hehe!

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to respond to as many comments as I can while I'm posting. Unless I feel the urgent need to respond to a comment, I only respond when I'm at my desk about to update. So I don't usually respond once a fic is finished unless the comment really compels me to. This is simply a time and effort kinda situation, I read them in my email and they always make my day, and I'm always happy to respond on social media if anyone ever wants to chat about any of my fics!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

The angstiest ending?! Uhhh I'm a happy ending girlie. I guess technically it's probably one of my Hosie oneshots in my A World Where I Was Yours series, just because it's my version of post canon of Legacies!

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

There are too many happy endings in my fics for me to decide aaahhhh. Ummmm. Maybe it's hard to breathe (when you're in the air) which is one of my favorite Hosie fics that I wrote?? but idk seriously they're all happy endings in terms of the pairing so it comes down to which characters in which fics had the happiest overall life situation and there are too many to think about it lol!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I've gotten negative comments for sure but I dunno if I'd call it hate exactly. The negative comment that I remember the most was on a Choni fic and they complained that the characters were too OOC, and it was nooooot done constructively at all and someone else (possibly same person different guest user) piled on even more rudely... so that wasn't fun (and also yeah all my characters are kinda OOC because that's what happens when you write AU?)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes, yes I do. I feel like it's fairly vanilla. I used to mark everything rated M before I was informed that perhaps I've been writing E smut without realizing it lmao. So now I rate new fics with smut as E.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I haven't ever posted any crossovers, but I did start one that was a Legacies/The Runaways crossover because of an idea that seriously amused me, but once I wrote the premise I got bored and stopped lol.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not a whole fic but back in my FF days someone took a Halloween Party chapter (wow I write those a lot actually, I'm not even a Halloween party girlie) and used it as a flashback on their Wattpad fic and someone kindly let me know and I had to message them to take it down.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? 

Yes! I had a few fics back on FF.net that were translated into French :) but the deal was that I wanted to post them because I wasn't comfy with someone else doing the posting of my ideas. And now I typically turn down offers of translation just because I'm less comfy with it now then I was when I was younger.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? 

I haven't, but I'd be open to doing so if it was for an idea I felt like me and the other author(s) were really vibing with!

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship? 

Impossible question. Whichever ship I'm currently obsessing over is my all-time favorite. Which would be Shadowzel rn. But probably in a few years I'll feel differently lol. I strongly feel that all the ships I've ever shipped are the best ever and I cannot choose a favorite.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Sooo many. I have a ton of Choni WIPs that I never finished, including one that got to like 20-30k words but just sits all dusty in its word folder. I once started a Part 3 to my Clexa travel fic (Come With Me linked earlier) that I couldn't get into but the vision was soooo cute. I also started a Part 3 to my Choni travel fic which also had a great vision but I'm just not as into Choni anymore so it feels hard to go back to now.

16. What are your writing strengths? 

I think I'm good at dialogue and characterization, those are my favorite parts of my own writing at least!

17. What are your writing weaknesses? 

Dude. I apparently cannot get enough of adverbs. I have to prune so many when I'm editing fics. Ugh. And I have some repetitive phrases that I also end up having to prune out.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? 

I've done it before with google translate and made modifications when people who spoke those languages corrected me haha. But it's not something I do often just because it hasn't really been super relevant to most of what I write.

19. First fandom you wrote for? 

Glee. It was Glee. I was 13. We don't need to talk about it.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? 

My favorite?!!? It's always my latest fic, I pretty much always feel like the latest thing I'm working on is the best and so it's my favorite right now for sure. And that would be Reignited (Shadowzel).

Anyone who sees this and wants to participate, feel free to copy the questions, I know this is a tagging game but I don't do that kind of thing, I just saw these questions in another post and felt like talking about my fanfic lmfao.

[minniethemoocherda]

Give Me Reason

Summary: If Red Alert could go to their therapy sessions for Inferno, take their medication for Inferno and be willing to die for Inferno, then the least they could do was to try going to one of his stupid Chess Club games for him too.

A/N: This takes place between chapters 11 and 12 of my Jazzprowl fic Iridescent but you don't have to read that for this to make sense. BTW I made Red Alert non0binary and Bluestreak a transgirl.

Ao3

FF.net

As their alarm wailed, Red Alert felt a rise of panic as they woke up without the familiar feeling of Inferno's strong arms wrapped around them. Before they could allow their thoughts to spiral, Red checked the calendar that they had mounted to the wall.

Usually on this day of the week, Inferno would be finishing the nightshift monitor duty, giving the pair a moment to appreciate each other's company before Red Alert took over for the day shift.

But as the calendar reminded them, this morning they were meeting up with Prowl the first session of Inferno's new Chess Club.

The fire truck could deny it all he liked, but Red Alert knew that he had come up with the ideas as a way to help them make friends.

Unfortunately Red Alert would have to admit, that they were a bit lacking in the friends department.

Sure they had their mandatory check ins with Rung and Ratchet but that wasn't the same. Inferno was the sweetest bot on the planet so of course he had plenty of friends. And Red wanted him to enjoy spending time with those friends without having to worry about them being left on their own. Plus It wasn't fair to Inferno to put all their emotional baggage onto him. Therefore as much as changing their routine could freak them out, Red Alert knew that making some friends would be the best for the both of them.

Or he's finally fed up of dealing with your glitch and is trying to pawn you on to someone else.

"Yeah, yeah whatever." Red Alert mumbled, ignoring their reflection in the mirror, as they walked past it to grab their morning medication.

If they could go to their therapy sessions for Inferno and take their medication for Inferno and be willing to die for Inferno, then they could try going to at least one of his chess club games for him.

Red Alert cringed at the wave of nausea as they uploaded the medication directly into their wrist port. They hated having to be reliant on the stupid things but as Inferno liked to remind them, everyone also had to clean their denta every day just as everyone had to eat a morning meal every day and got to bed every night too. So it was just another step to their daily routine to take the medication as well. No matter the momentary discomfort.

Plus the last time they'd been off their meds, the voices in their head convinced them that everyone had betrayed them, even Inferno, causing them to nearly team up with Starscream! So they were willing to put up with anything to avoid a repeat of that.

Checking the time on their internal clock, they filled up a cube of energon from their personal stash and headed for the recreational room.

Now Red Alert knew that it was near impossible that the energon in the rec room was poisoned, especially with all the security checks they had personally put in place. But as all their personal supply had been pre-checked they knew that their own was one hundred percent safe. Therefore it was one less thing for their glitch to worry about, so hopefully they could focus on trying to enjoy the game.

Red Alert had ensured that only them and Prowl would free right now. With the morning shift not due to start for another hour, everyone else was either working the night shift or still in recharge. So as they entered the rec room, they were momentarily panicked to see that Prowl was not alone. Before Red's glitch could spiral, they recognised the other person as Bluestreak.

Now Red Alert had made sure to review every last detail about everyone in the Autobot army, so they knew all about how Prowl had become guardian of the young bot after the destruction of Praxus.

Red had theorised why the head of tactics had agreed to join the club considering that Prowl the only person in the army more anti-social than themselves, with theories ranging from him secretly being a Deception spy to alternative universe doppelganger. But now all the pieces fell into place.

Prowl was doing this for Bluestreak. Just like how Red Alert was doing this for Inferno.

Although they if they really felt like being honest, then they were both also doing it for themselves.

"See you later!" Bluestreak called out as she raced off to their post with far too much energy for this time in the morning.

Red Alert gave them a polite nod in return before setting up the chess board that they'd brought with them on the table.

Again, Red Alert knew that it was highly unlikely that Prowl would not have tampered with the communal set. But with them trying something new, Red felt the need to be as in control as possible to stop them from spiralling about the situation. Sure It was an overly paranoid precaution. But it was also a mechanism that helped them cope and right now, keeping themselves calm was the most important thing.

After exchanging good morning greetings, the pair got straight into the match.

Red Alert was pleasantly surprised to find that Prowl was actually a challenge.

Inferno had improved a lot over the many years that they had been playing chess together, but unless Red Alert lost on purpose then they would always win. So it was a little exhilarating to play an equal opponent.

The pair exchanged little small talk, instead preferring to focus on the game. But that in of itself told Red Alert that the two of them probably had more in common than they initially realised. Maybe one day, after many more games, Red would hopefully feel comfortable enough to share these thoughts.

They played for the hour that they had allotted when people started to shuffle into the recreation room still half asleep for their morning shift or trying to catch an extra bit of socialisation before turning in for the night.

Red Alert knew that they would both prefer to continue their match next week then to keep playing when surrounded by a crowd.

Red took note of the positions of all the peices. They then asked Prowl if he wanted a copy but he shook his head.

"I trust you." The head tactician stated.

Red Alert couldn't begin to describe how happy that simple statement made them. As head of security, people trusted them to protect them all from Decepticon attacks. But nobody ever trusted them with anything personal.

Red headed off to the monitor room with a skip in their step, for once the voice in their head kept from making any snide remarks.

They opened the door to find Inferno already standing to attention.

They knew that the fire truck wanted to rush over to welcome them with a hug, but as ever he remained the picture of professionalism whilst on duty. Which was on the many reasons Red fell in love with him all those years ago, back when the pair were simple firefighters working at the same station, before the war turned them into soldiers.

"Nothing to report Commander." Inferno stated.

"Thank you Officer. You are dismissed." Red Alert told him.

No longer on duty, Inferno squeezed their elbow as he slipped through the door.

"I'm glad you had a good time." Inferno smiled, having no doubt felt the joy radiating through their conjunx bond.

Red Alert allowed themselves a smile in return before heading over to the console.

As soon as they logged on, they started checking through all of the Ark's security cameras, already coming up with new ideas of how to best cover any potential blind spots.

Because for as much as their glitch often made it difficult, all Red Alert ever wanted to do was help people. It was why they became a firefighter and then an Autobot and then a Commander as the Head of Security. And although sometimes they found it hard to help themselves, there was nothing that they wouldn't do to help others. So if meeting up to play chess once a week helped Inferno and Prowl, then Red would gladly do it.

The fact that it made them happy too was just a bonus.

[wickedobsessed101]

Chapter 13 of "A Dance of Desire"

Chapter 13: "Port De Bras"

After the auditions, Glinda receives a letter from her parents. But she receives a much better one from Elphaba.

Read on FF.net and AO3

[tiftaf-the-world-jumper]

Today I discovered my iPod touch still barely functions! And somehow is still talking to my iTunes account via the iTunes store??? Like it’s got some pretty recent songs on it somehow that I never downloaded onto it. Meaning there’s a couple local bands from years back that I can record the sound from via my current iPhone from its speakers!

I’m also like 90% I have some ancient bionicle fanfic chapters from ff.net on there I used to read on care rides.

So I plan to see if I can document that. Depends on how long the iPod decides to last before kicking the bucket. The screen is just barely starting to detach from the charge port area, and it doesn’t hold its charge well. We’ll see how this goes.

Its clock is a little over twenty minutes off. Don’t pay attention to the case crust. I’ve never been able to remove the strange glue gunk. The case is bone dry and can’t really be removed either unless I wanna damage the deviceTM.

[electronicyarn]

The Bandit’s Rose - Chapter 10

Fandom: RWBY

Raven Branwen/Summer Rose Taiyang Xiao Long/Qrow Branwen Summer Rose/Taiyang Xiao Long Raven Branwen/Taiyang Xiao Long

Read From the Beginning

Summary:

Before there was Team RWBY, there was Team STRQ. And before Team STRQ were huntsmen and huntresses, they were students.

Summer, Taiyang, Raven, and Qrow are four of Beacon Academy’s newest students, and although they don’t know it yet, powerful forces have taken note of them. But if they’re going to survive being pawns in a secret game, they’ll first have to survive each other.

Read on AO3 | Read on FF.net

Regular class hours had ended for the day at Beacon, but Team STRQ, along with a few other freshman teams, were gathered in the school’s combat arena. The large, cavernous space was appropriately grandiose for an academy as prestigious as Beacon was. It was suitable for facilitating just about any kind of battle imaginable, from one-on-one duels to multi-team fights, and tonight, it was playing host to the first of many combat exercises that were part of Professor Port’s class.

Summer was loitering near the edge of the arena along with Taiyang and Qrow. They were all watching Raven who was standing center stage along with Professor Port. Glynda, the professor’s ever-present teaching assistant, was also there. She was waiting next to a series of cages holding live grimm. The close proximity of so many grimm was making Summer’s stomach churn no thanks to her semblance, but she was doing a decent job of keeping her nausea at bay.

Summer was eager for Raven’s evaluation to begin. Not only would it mean one less grimm in the arena, this would be the first time she would get to see her partner use her new sword. Unfortunately, she, like everyone else, was waiting for Professor Port to finish meticulously jotting down his notes onto a clipboard he was holding for the last student who’d fought.

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[esta-elavaris]

Part Fifteen [4,160 words] ~ James Norrington/OC

An AU of my completed, 400k+ word fanfic Catch the Wind [AO3], in which Elizabeth, not James, is the one to discover Theodora Byrne after she crash-lands into the world of Pirates of the Caribbean.

Page breaks by cafekitsune.

Also now on AO3 and FF.net.

Masterpost - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Part Eleven - Part Twelve - Part Thirteen - Part Fourteen - *Part Fifteen*

Tag list [let me know if you want to be added!]: @teawithshakespeare @missfronkensteen @dancerinthestorm

It turned out, much to Theo's hidden dismay, that the going-away dinner was a natural precursor to the welcome back dinner that those in Port Royal liked to throw for the higher-ranking returning sailors after a spell away. It was a good chance, Elizabeth explained, to acknowledge their losses if there were any, to celebrate the lack of those losses if their luck held true, and to give the men their first good meal since they'd set sail. It was a way for them to blow off steam in a classy way, essentially. Unless Norrington was coming, because it was her own personal opinion that deception and humiliation weren't particularly classy – but what would Theo know? She was Irish, after all.

Elizabeth, being Elizabeth, wanted her to wear something evil for the dinner. Evil, here, having the meaning of show-stoppingly beautiful. She'd refused, flat out. Not only because she didn't have the heart for it, but because it'd be transparent and very pathetic, and only make her feel more ridiculous than she already did around most of those whose names were on the guest list. There was no desire in her to show him what he was missing, or anything that reached those levels of utter meltery, because he wasn't missing anything, and she didn't want him to miss anything. She was done. What was the point in playing games that she'd find no fun in?

Only when she insisted that if the matter was pushed, she'd fake a sudden illness and spend the night in her bedroom, in her nightgown, did Elizabeth relent. Highly begrudgingly. At least until she caught the pallor creeping into Theo's face, and the tremor in her hand, as the prospect of the night ahead saturated her with dread, and then their spat was over before it had even truly begun.

So, the lengths of red satin that her friend had been trying to push upon her were replaced by a muted jade gown that had delicate white flowers working its way up from the hem of the skirts, along with the bottom of the bodice. Her one concession was the fabric of the underskirts – a brilliant emerald green that peeked out from the gap in the middle between the overskirts. The hair was understated, too, the updo more a simple collection of curls all bound together rather than something that had her resembling a skyscraper. Finally, she wore her own necklace from home about her neck, more of a totem than an accessory tonight, so she could at least feel like her dad was here with her in some way. In truth, she missed him more sorely now than she had since arriving here, and even the thought was almost enough to send her into a fit of tears.

But she couldn't afford that tonight. Maybe that made the necklace a mistake, but she couldn't bring herself to remove it once it was on.

Tonight would be the worst of it. The first time having to face him again – but at least she'd do so while knowing that his maid, Hattie, would've told him that she returned whatever books of his had still been in her care. Now, he would have no reason at all to speak with her. He'd like that.

James knew that, had Theodora departed, he would have heard so soon upon returning to Port Royal. And while he heard no such thing, he still hadn't the heart to outright ask – not even his own staff – so he remained silent, and when he entered the Governor's mansion that eve, he was relieved when it took no time at all to spot a head of fiery hair among the crowd. Although the relief was hardly devoid of other, more mixed emotions.

He should apologise. That was not a conclusion that it took him a great deal of time to reach. It would be the right thing to do – the gentlemanly thing to do, even if he was not a gentleman in the technical sense of the word. Nor in the looser sense, if his behaviour as of late was any indicator.

However…she had also asked him to leave her be. It was impossible to respect that wish, while also doing the right thing, which left him with the dilemma of which course of action was more right. The answer was the one he liked least. That he should simply leave her be, as she wanted.

And whatever relief he felt at seeing she was still here was in danger of evaporating when he saw more of her throughout the evening. Her face, and her general demeanour. How often had he thought to himself that there must be nothing under the sun that could possibly dampen her utterly indomitable spirit? Her humour? While the thought had once exasperated him, he now wished his theory had not proven incorrect. It helped nothing that he was the cause of it.

He kept his distance throughout the night, and she did not look at him once, but even when she was on the opposite side of the room from him (which she often was), she did not brighten. While James was placed at Governor Swann's end of the table, Theodora was at Elizabeth's, with Groves at her other side, to her left.

It soon became apparent that he didn't even need to pretend he was not taking stock of her, stealing swift glances here and there when he was sure she was distracted and would not catch him, for she didn't look at him at all. She barely looked at anybody, her eyes downcast and her face distant. It was not the manner of one who was in the midst of a strop – intent on making sure those around her felt the full weight of her displeasure via the mode of uncomfortable silence. So, while she did not smile, she didn't scowl either. When spoken to, she replied, and when spoken at, she listened patiently. But she was not there. Not truly. She did not flee in defeat, but she had put down her sword.

And that fact alone was enough to have his heart sinking down to his shoes.

Dinner passed without incident, and when they moved to the sitting room so that the servants could clear the aftermath of the meal, Groves and Elizabeth seemed in no hurry to leave Theodora's side. As hostess, Elizabeth was soon forced to do so and mingle, but Groves remained, although he appeared content to simply remain by her side rather than engaging in further attempts to pry conversation from her. All the while, her eyes remained far off, much as he suspected his own did when he was busy running over mental preparations for whatever voyage lay ahead.

She looked fetching tonight. Nothing new, really, for she was a fair woman – factually speaking. Bedecked in green which flattered her colouring, and not bedecked in ruffles or jewels that would only distract from the beauty that she herself held. But the difference was that, tonight, she was not as striking as she usually was. Not without the teasing grins, or the glimmer in her eye that so oft betrayed a wealth of things she was not saying.

What it took to snap her back into the room was something he wished had not happened at all. Amelia Simmonds flounced over to the pianoforte, and sat down before it with a flourish. Not content to make a point by halves, she flew into a complex piece that would have had even James himself impressed at her skill – had she not been who she was, and had she not harboured the motive she did. Instead, it only stoked his ire, perhaps pettily content that he had another to level at it who was not himself.

The performance was nearing its end when he looked back towards Theodora again, finding that this time, for the first time, she was looking at him. Indifference still veiled her expression, but this time it was just that – a veil. One hand toyed with the pendant about her neck, seeking comfort, as she watched him silently, as though waiting for a repeat of what had occurred the last time they found themselves in this setting. He knew the fact that he'd been caught changed his expression, but it did not change hers. She gave nothing away. Which, in itself, gave something away, for being so guarded was unlike her. And he'd caused the change.

Finally, after what seemed like an age, she looked away. Murmuring something to Groves, she took a step back, and then turned, departing otherwise without notice. Intent, he supposed, on not offering up another opportunity.

James debated on whether he should follow, but as another seized their chance to play, Amelia was by his side.

"My, Miss Swann really did tame the wild beast, did she not?" Amelia asked with glee.

He realised then, with a dull sense of horror, that she viewed him as an ally against the woman she had pinned all of her ire upon, the moment Theodora had washed up on their shores. Said horror was no longer so dull when he was forced to concede that Amelia's assumption was not unfounded.

"Perhaps she should open a finishing school," she continued. "Or a dog kennel – for training, you understand."

"You are making a fool of yourself, madam," he said flatly.

The grin slipped from her face as she blinked up at him, but she recovered swiftly and forced a laugh.

"No, Captain, I'm making a fool of her."

"Then why, might I ask, is it you that appears ignorant, and not Miss Byrne?"

He took his leave before she could answer, following in the direction Theodora had departed, although he knew not what he would do if he found her.

It seemed another had already beaten him to accompany her, though. Lieutenant Groves' voice met his ears, drifting from the dining room that had already been cleared, and James stilled by the doorway, listening with something that felt dangerously and heavily akin to dread. For the Lieutenant's voice was soft in a way that denoted more than a desire to simply speak quietly.

"I was wondering if I might call upon you tomorrow morning. For…for tea, or perhaps a turn about the gardens. Whichever you'd like best. Or something else, if you'd rather."

"…Why?" Theodora's voice was filled with genuine confusion.

Groves breathed a nervous laugh, faltered for a moment, and then replied.

"Forgive me, but…I think you know why. I should very much like to get to know you, Miss Byrne."

"Oh…I…I see…"

It was silent then, for a few long moments – moments that felt all the longer for how terrible they were, as James wondered if he would find them locked in some sort of embrace if he chanced a look inside the room.

"Lieutenant…" she said finally, falteringly.

James despised the treacherous relief and joy both that coursed through him, for that mode of address entirely betrayed what her answer would be. And it should not have made him happy. Not for Groves' sake, not for Theodora's, and certainly not for his own.

"Please, call me Theodore. Unless it's too absurd for you to say with a straight face, considering how alike it is to yours."

She did not laugh at his teasing.

"I don't intend to be here much longer. But…if you want to come and visit as a friend, I'd love that."

Scarcely two full seconds went by before Groves was responding.

"You're leaving?"

"When I can find the right time, yes."

"Why? Because of…the other night…?"

"Not entirely because of it. I'm not that pathetic. If it was anything, it was a wake-up call. I don't belong here, and I don't want to be anywhere I don't belong. What point is there wasting my energy pretending otherwise? Everybody knows it."

"I think you're allowing yourself to be defeated. If I may be so bold as to say it outright."

"There's surrendering to needless defeat, and then there's recognising that the battle isn't worth fighting in the first place," she said, resignation filling her voice more than woe or self-pity. "I want to be somewhere where people understand me. Where they actually like and know me. That's not wrong. Elizabeth does, Elizabeth has been…has been so impossibly good to me. But I can't spend all of my time cowering behind her skirts and expecting her to stick up for me amongst this lot. It's not fair on her, and I don't want her to. I'm tired, Lieutenant. I've been tired ever since I arrived here. I don't think that's going to change if I remain."

Tired, James knew, was a code for the emotions she would not admit to. Fear, and melancholy. Amongst others.

Groves sighed.

"Very well. But I still insist that you call me Theodore."

"And if it is too absurd?" there was a smile in her voice now – the first display of mirth James' had caught from her all evening.

"I've never been much attached to it. We can brainstorm a new one for me when I visit tomorrow."

"You still want to visit?" surprise coloured her voice.

"You just said we shall be friends," he pointed out.

Theodora breathed a surprised laugh, and he could hear the smile in her voice as she replied.

"Good, then. I'll have a list ready. How do you feel about Beauregard?"

"I feel hopeful that the rest of the list will be more promising," Groves chuckled.

Knowing it was only a matter of time before he was either missed or caught, he turned…and found himself face to face with Elizabeth Swann. Judging by the look she shot in the direction of the room Groves and Theodora occupied, she had heard everything just as he had – and by the one she then levelled at him personally, his reaction had not gone unnoticed.

At first, it looked like she might speak, but the sound of shuffling reached their ears, and it would not be long before they were discovered. So, she nodded in the direction of the passageway that would lead out onto the patio, and then the gardens. James obeyed. He didn't have much choice in the matter, although he held little optimism about what words might pass between them. His last conversation in the Governor's gardens had hardly gone well.

They stepped out into the night, mostly overcast which meant they would not be seen easily here, and Elizabeth turned to him, watching him expectantly. James cleared his throat.

"I feel I must apologise," he said.

She nodded.

"If my actions have caused any awkwardness between you and Miss Byrne, for I know she has become a dear friend to you, then you have my sincerest-"

"To me?" she interrupted sharply. "You feel you must apologise to me, Captain?"

"Only because I cannot apologise to Miss Byrne."

"You cannot? Have you tried?"

"Last we spoke, she asked that I leave her be. I intend to honour that request."

"You shouldn't!"

"It is for the best," he replied firmly.

"The best for whom, Captain Norrington?!"

"For…for…"

He did not hesitate because he had no answer to her question, but rather because the answer was hardly one that he could speak aloud. The best for everybody. For Theodora, because it was what she wanted, for Elizabeth, because it would rid her of whatever suspicions he harboured about he and her friend, and for James himself because…well, it would rid him of any ill-gotten confusion. Regarding what woman he should have been spending his time thinking about.

While he could voice none of that, Elizabeth's shrewd eye seemed to catch it all on his face. Of course she saw it, she was no fool. Not in the slightest.

"May I speak frankly?" she asked finally.

While her voice held none of the sharpness it previously harboured, it was still far from gentle.

"By all means," he said – and he meant it.

Months ago, he'd have sawn off his arm with a wooden sword to have her speak frankly to him, rather than through fifty different layers of propriety and social graces. That had never been a problem for Theodora. No, she—no. That was precisely the line of thinking he was trying desperately to shake himself out of these days.

"How might you have felt, back there, had Theodora accepted Lieutenant Groves' overtures?"

Considering the dread that had seized him upon hearing said overtures, the answer was not hard to come by. It was, however, rather more difficult to admit. Even now, a worry grew in the back of his mind that he had not heard the last of the prospect of their becoming more. Many a stout romance began as friendship, and he had certainly been able to cheer her with remarkable speed. If that continued, she may decide to remain. With him.

"The private affairs of Lieutenant Groves are no business of mine," he said flatly.

Annoyance flashed in Elizabeth's dark eyes once again, as bright as a strike of lightning, even in the darkness the night cloaked them in.

"If I am to speak frankly, you must extend me the same courtesy," she warned.

"I am."

"You are not! Captain, since the last time you were here, I have barely been able to pry a conversation out of Theo. Much less a smile, or a laugh. Does that sound like her?"

Whatever small hope he'd had that her change in demeanour was simply due to his return, a ward to disabuse him of any temptation to approach, died a swift death then and there. His guilt only increased. That, at least, seemed to grant the woman before him some satisfaction where his words could not.

"No, it does not."

"I have since learned, tonight, that you have hardly been in the best of moods since that night, either."

"The gossip of sailors," he scoffed.

Ones who would find themselves buried under ungodly amounts of mind-numbingly boring tasks, once he ascertained who exactly had been spreading rumours.

"Is it?"

"I shall not pretend that I do not regret my actions that night, especially if they caused you distress in your own friendship with your guest, but-"

"She's talking about leaving, you know."

At that, he could not muster an uncaring façade.

"I do not yet know how she intends to do so, but I know that she will. It is not an idle threat. Theo does not make idle threats. Your actions and your treatment of her, she has told me, were a timely reminder that she does not belong here. That she was foolish to think otherwise, and that she was foolish to develop an attachment."

"If she believes her attachment to you was foolish because of my actions, then she-"

"To you, Captain. Not to me. To you."

"Well…I…" he finally stopped gawping long enough to respond properly. "That was misguided on her part."

"Was it?" she challenged yet again.

"Yes!"

"Why?!"

Now, he found himself echoing Lieutenant Groves' earlier sentiments, his jaw clenching and unclenching, staring off into the gardens so he could force himself to speak.

"I suspect you know why."

It was not an easy thing to say. But she had demanded frankness, and so she would have it.

"Captain, I have known you for some time. A long time. I do not believe you would be standing here in such distress if you had no feelings for Theo."

"In which case, that is misguided on my part."

"Why? Because she is Irish? Or because of her social standing?"

"Of course not!"

"Because you still insist she harbours sinister secrets, then? I will confide this in you, even if I know she would not wish me to do so."

"Then you should not-"

"I know everything she has not seen fit to tell others. All of it. There is nothing sinister there, and there is nothing that might impede you. Unless you truly do succeed in driving her away."

"What…?"

"I can say no more on the matter. Trust what I have said."

James stared at her, and she stared back – as though daring him to challenge her. How long had she known the answers he sought? What were those answers? If she said there was no impediment, that would mean…that there was no husband. But how did that explain all of the factors that led him to that suspicion? Elizabeth had hinted at cruelty, but…but one did not have to be married to a woman to be cruel to her. That much made sense. Perhaps…

Whatever theories began to arise, he put a forceful end to them. Those thoughts, at least, he could control. They mattered not, when weighed upon the conversation currently at hand. So he stopped his incredulous staring, cleared his throat, and schooled his expression.

"It makes no difference."

"Why, Captain? Why does it not?" she demanded.

"I have told you why, Elizabeth!" he all but snapped. "Because it is not…it is not…"

"What you had planned?" a strong sort of knowing seeped through her tone.

How was it that she managed to pin the thoughts he himself could not even begin to untangle with such expert precision?

At that question, her implorations turned from furious to soft, though no less firm despite that. The frown was smoothed from her brow, her eyes no longer blazed, but she did not shrink or falter. James suspected she was incapable of either, much like the woman she championed.

"Captain…James…" she sighed, wringing her hands and hanging her head for a moment before she looked at him once again, resolving herself to the rule of frankness that prevailed over this conversation. "Plans change. That is perfectly alright. It's good, so long as you don't cling to the old one for the sake of clinging to the old one, forsaking your own happiness and that of others for the sake of it. There are…there are times when doing the correct thing, in the eyes of others, can be the wrong thing, if done for the wrong reasons."

He hadn't the faintest idea of what to say to that – nor if he could speak if he even truly tried to do so. Happily, or unhappily, Elizabeth was not finished having her say.

"I am not inside your mind. I believe I am correct, but perhaps I am not. If so, leave Theodora be. I would not have you pursue her as a second best option – in fact, I should never forgive you if you do. But if I am correct, and you're denying both yourself and Theodora a chance at very real happiness because you're too stubborn to see what is directly before your eyes, I shall find that hard to forgive, too."

"However…hypothetically speaking…if the latter were the case," he said slowly, feeling quite numb. "It is far too late to change anything now. Is it not?"

"That, I cannot answer. But there is only one way to find out."

"Oh?"

"Try," she said.

They remained standing there for a few long moments, until Elizabeth finally sighed and clasped her hands before her.

"I would ask one thing of you," she said finally. "We will not discuss it, if you concede. This is for your sake."

"What is it?"

Considering how this conversation had transpired, he did not dare agree before he heard the request. Once, he might have – even if the request involved walking upon molten glass. But now, he could not.

"When you return to your home tonight, put whatever plans you may once have had from your mind," she said carefully. "Only for a moment. A minute, an hour, thirty seconds, whatever it takes. Picture two eventualities. One in which you do the expected thing. And one in which you follow what it is you truly wish to do, if I am in fact correct about what that is. Consider which one brings you more joy. Make that your compass. Not reason."

He did not agree, but he knew he would do so anyway, now that the idea was in his mind. He was a glutton for punishment, it seems. But she seemed not to expect a response, straightening and lifting her chin.

"My father tells me the formalities, in the way of paperwork, are all almost concluded to secure your promotion. You'll soon be Commodore Norrington, I hear. Congratulations – truly. You deserve it."

It was not news, not to him. Although until the ink was dry, he was content for it to be news that had not yet reached the ears of the rest of those gathered here. With a parting nod, Elizabeth swept soundlessly from the gardens, save only for the rustle of her skirts. James remained. Movement was even more impossible than speech was.

She had given him much to think about.

A/N: I really loved the idea of Elizabeth parroting the advice her father gives her in TCOTBP, even though he hasn't actually given her it yet in this timeline. I just think it shows the bond and the closeness between them, that they'd give similar advice under similar circumstances.

[loquaciousquark]

[Fic] Iron Bound [10/25]

Rating: G Characters/Pairings: Fenris/Hawke, Sebastian Word Count: 3.1k this chapter, ~96k total Summary: Fenris, captain of Starkhaven’s White Guard and the dearest friend of that country’s prince, has arrived in the kingdom of Kirkwall with a retinue of noble-born guards and a carriage brimming with lavish gifts. How else to win over the hearts of a suspicious mountain people who would rather break teeth on stone than accept the prince of Starkhaven stealing away their heir princess?

But stone is all they have in their kitchens lately, and gravel in their quarries and ice in their bitter rivers, and Starkhaven sits abreast the richest lea and moorland south of the Minanter.

And Sebastian Vael, the young prince of that country, needs a wife.

—

Fenris knew instantly where they were when they disembarked. He did not need a port, a road, the tatters of Hawke’s maps; he had spent months hidden in these woods with Sebastian nine years ago when they planned his retaking of his city. For the first time in three months, for the first time since an arrow flew from the trees and knocked Petra dead from her horse, he knew every step ahead of his feet.

He took them first to a small village near the water. He knew it to be friendly to the prince, knew several of the townspeople there, but as they neared two men in the uniform of the White Guard rode out along the road towards the sea, and he did not know their faces. He withdrew with Hawke to the side of the road, their hoods up and faces turned, until the guard had passed.

“They could be new members,” Hawke said into his ear. “New recruits, brought in to search for you.”

“To search for you,” Fenris said, and shook his head as the princess leaned heavily on her spear. “Or Tevinter spies.”

He was shocked by his own frustration. They were in his country; they were near people he knew. He wanted badly to give Hawke a roof, a fire, clothes with neither mud nor holes. He could hardly remember how she looked at the feast-tables in Kirkwall, her hair in gold netting, her dress made of crimson brocade and black sable. That memory had blurred like water smeared over glass, turning the burning torchlight within into something shadowed and strange. She had become only this to him now, a tall slender woman of no more note than any other traveling farmer, with black braided hair and a look of faint hunger in her face before she smiled.

—

Links: FF.net, AO3

[etherealvoidechoes]

Rage Against the Dying of the Light Pt 2 of 4

No chapter blurb for now

The usual warnings for blood, violence, and language. Some suicidal thoughts and attempted misguided murder.

Ao3|| FF.net|| Fic Wiki Hub

1||2(You are here)||3||4

Approx. 4.5k

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“So, anything new?” Bradford asked.

It had been a few more days since his last visit to the Infirmary. Not much had changed, but he was hoping something was new.

The doctors filled him in. So far, nothing was new minus some subtle twitches here and there and increased brainwave activity for Thaddeus. Otherwise, he was still out cold.

He then asked about the implants. Again, nothing much had changed on that subject. They were still stumped. All attempts to draw force open the hidden ports and draw out the tendrils failed. Any attempts to cut into them also failed. Seemed the areas would react and reinforce the skin and underlying muscle leading to several broken scalpels. 

The same could be said about the golden implants and their ports. The only thing they had discovered so far was least 80% of the materials used were wholly alien in origin. A mixture of what they knew the aliens brought to earth — Elerium — and some completely unknown.

Still nothing great, but it was something for them to keep an eye out for. He shared with them that the Void Walkers were still looking into it. It looked like it would be one of their “long” investigations.

As they were continuing their discussions, slowly shifting over to what information Bradford would share with Thaddeus once he was awake, something a worker said caught their attention. 

“He’s waking up!” 

Music to everyone’s ears. Bradford was fairly annoyed when they told him to stay back, but relented when they said it was best not to overwhelm him. So he watched from a distance.

———————————————

Thaddeus was slowly coming to. A grunt here. A moan there. He shifted about in the medical bed. His whole body felt heavy to him. His ears twitched as he picked up the increased chatter from the doctors and workers. Another grunt and hiss escaped him.

I’m still alive? Guess they worked quickly enough. Dammit. He wasn’t thrilled by that. But he noticed something.

My mind’s more clear. Less of that oppressive fog. My limbs are heavy but I feel like I’m not sedated… Protocols are still being missed.

He wasn’t sure what that meant, but part of his mind felt like he could take advantage of it. It was a subtle, cold prod at that bottled-up rage.

He grimaced as he felt something touch his face, specifically one of his eyes, and forced it open. It was like a flash-bang went off as a blinding light was shone into it. As quickly as it happened, the same thing occurred with his other eye.

“Pupils are dilating normally.” Dr. Tyler said. 

As soon as the other eye was released, Thaddeus’ eyes scrunched together tightly before opening them once more.  It took a few blinks to make the after images disappear. As his vision evened out, his eyes darted back and forth to take in the new location when a face wasn’t in the way.

Hm… The aesthetic looks off. But don’t They have numerous facilities They ship me to?

He spotted some familiar faces. Dr. Tygan and Dr. Tyler. Well, familiar glasses for her. All the other faces were foreign to him. 

Their clothes also look… off. Hm, more tricks. That simulation. They want me to feel comfortable. Make me slip up. I’ll make them regret it. Cause some damage. Maybe even take my o—

He winced. He wasn’t sure if it was in response to his blood being drawn, or some tender area being poked, but something was slowly prodding at his brain. It felt like an ice-cold vice was slowly being wound around his skull. As suddenly as the pain grew, it began to fade as a faint hum tickled the inside of his mind. That coldness never left.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right… Because their words had forked no lightning they…

A voice spoke. Or was it two? It sounded like it was two speaking in unison with a faint echo and warble to it. One, honeyed and silvery. The other was taunt and brittle.

Where did that voice come from? It didn’t sound human. His eyes darted around, left to right. No one’s mouth matched the words. Nothing looked out of place. No one new had entered the room.

He slowly swallowed. His fingers twitched, trying to curl. Mind games… Putting me on edge. Possibly stress testing me too?

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Those eyes darted around again. Still no source. He didn’t like it. Something about these voices he didn’t like. Especially the words spoken. There was something at the back of his mind that told him he had heard those words before but couldn’t recall when.

Another glint of pain made him close his eyes. Blood roared in his ears, muffling everything around him for a moment. As it all came back to calm, he heard it again. That cold feeling grew around him.

Ah! The honeyed voice spoke, excited.

Aw… The taunt one spoke, saddened.

You survived your awakening. These humans did well. Both spoke in unison.

His eyes snapped open. What the hell… He saw it. Or some abstraction of it. 

Over at the entrance of the cordoned-off room. Just by the curtains as a set of workers were entering and leaving, there looked to be a shadow. A mass the shifted and wafted like smoke hung in the air. Those that came and went passed through, disturbing the mass, but did not react to it. 

What the hell… Thaddeus’ mind struggled to comprehend what he was seeing. For a moment, he felt like some part of it was taking shape. Was it a head? Hand? Torso? But as it would coalesce, it would fall back into that shifting smoke. This was entirely new to him. But whatever it was, he didn’t like it. It didn’t feel like how the Elders or their psions would touch his brain, but he could sense something was wrong with it.

These people are… fascinating. Near unquestionable dedication to saving you. The shifting mass spoke. As it did, it started to move. A faint humanoid shape came to. Or was it serpentine? It didn’t matter. Whatever it was, it moved with the grace of a dancer. It weaved back and forth between each person like a winding, swift stream. As it reached someone, hands would form — long, delicate, wrinkled things — and those hands touch and stroke each face. No one reacted.

You are saved by familiar hands. Or is it all lies? Another trick? Another trial to break you?

Thaddeus wearily watched the wretched thing. Why was no one noticing it? He wanted to say something, call it out, but his throat and mouth of his barely worked. A croaked grunt came out. Dammit… He didn’t like it. Its presence was just wrong and something about it was prodding a part of him that needed to stay bottled up.

You’ve been getting testy again. Affecting Their Children’s work. That ichor of my deliverer can be… dangerous. Such a risk He took, but it brought you(all) more time. And finally, it has borne fruit. Here… you… are!

For a moment, Thaddeus lost sight of it as someone blocked his vision, but as soon as he blinked, a wisp of smoke whipped from the left side of his face. Then he felt it. A cold embrace, many arms wrapping around his whole being. Then a single finger touched the underside of his chin before slowly stroking all the way down his neck. Then he felt something set down on top of his head. He went stiff. His heart raced; someone made note of that. It felt like the world was slowing.

What the hell is this thing? A twisted freak of an Elder? Something worse? He forced his eyes to move, to try to see what this thing was. His eyes froze. It was still a shifting distorted mass, but something began to take shape. The lower half of a face; skin twisted and taught. One with a rictus grin revealing needle-sharp teeth.

So what do you think? The mouth matched the words. The honeyed tone was stronger. Are these people, this XCOM, potential allies? Ghosts from that age-old past risen anew in this era of deceit?

Thaddeus blinked. The face and wisps were gone. But one for a second. He felt a shift. A hand grabbed his chin and held it firm, while a finger traced its way down the side of his face. It was on his right and now this half of the face looked… sad. Like a tragedy mask.

Or is it a trial? That lie again? The bittersweet dream of freedom to break your spirit? Again? To break this World? The sad tone was stronger.

He tried to ignore it, but there was a strange allure to its words. It was clouding his mind, pulling at those negative thoughts. Drawing forth that unbridled hate, that rage he had for the Elders. His eyes darted around the room, eying each person. Another… trick?

Ah! Shifting back to his left, it licked its lips. Yes, yes, yes! Let it grow! Let it fester! That honeyed tone took over before shifting back to the sad one. Lose yourself to that rage.

With that firm hand holding his chin, the being shifted his head back and forth so he could get a better view of the room and all in it. Someone noted the movement.

Who shall be struck first? Who’s the weakest link? The cascade to the floodgates?

There were so many to choose from. Who first indeed? Thaddeus’ fingers twitched.

Oh! The thing playfully gasped again. The fingers dug into his chin before gently moving his view to the left. He looks important.

Over to the left were Bradford, Dr. Tygan, and Dr. Tyler.

Perhaps drawing him over here by striking a lackey? It suggested. 

“Hm…” Thaddeus let out a grunt. Maybe… 

 He has a knife. That can cause some… damage.

 If he could have, he would have grinned. He liked the suggestion. It was suicide, but he liked it. 

For now, he just carefully studied the doctors and workers as they tended to him. He barely acknowledged them as they moved, poked, and prodded him. He was looking for the slightest slip-up in the charade he could take advantage of. 

Some time later, the bed was raised, and they readjusted him. 

As all of this was happening, he started concentrating on his limbs. A twitch here. A finger curl there. With some effort, he could move his hand. 

Not too high. Want to catch them off guard. He noticed how they noticed his movement. They said something about muscle atrophy. He paid no attention. Can I move my legs? Can I make a fist?

———————————————

“So?” Bradford asked as Tyler came over. His eyes occasionally glanced over at Thaddeus. The man looked both distant and annoyed.

“He’s aware of his surroundings, but is not speaking.” She said. 

“Any clue why?”

“There is the possibility his mind is struggling to process his surroundings.” She suggested. “New surroundings, new faces, new smells,” she gestured all around him, “new everything, really.”

“I get it, I get it.” He shook his head.

“Additionally, it has been 20 years since he’s been in the ‘care’ of the Elders. It is possible, They have tampered with his mind.” Tygan said as he came over.

A sharp exhale left Bradford’s nose. Not something he wanted to think about. That was something they learned about the First Generation ADVENT soldiers, specifically the humans converted into Hybrids. The Elders had a process that could break minds, and remove and rewrite memories. Hell, they did to the non-Hybrids. A few of their former ADVENT personnel reported having blanks in their memories or false ones implanted. Could They have done that to Thaddeus?

“You guys tested for any of that?” Bradford asked.

“That’s not really something we can ‘test’ for, especially when he was unconscious.” Tyler said. “Besides, that would be more Veer’s area.”

“We did notice edited markers pertaining to his synaptic connections and nervous system.” Tygan said.

“English, doctor.”

“What he means is either the Elders did some psionic tampering to his mind or Thaddeus is a latent psionic. Or both!” Tyler said.

“Hm.” He wasn’t sure what to make of that. He was hoping for more of the latter than the former, but the latter could be worrisome too. “Don’t recall him…” He paused, his mind was recalling a faint memory. Raising a hand to his chin, his nails picked at the stubble. “Actually no. Towards the end of the War… I think Dr. Vahlen had been pestering him, and the others, to run some tests down in the Psi Labs but he was drowning in work.” He nodded to himself as the memory became more clear. “May have to pull at Dr. Marin’s brain to confirm that.”

“I can check the archives to see if—”

A hoarse angry roar pierced the relative tranquillity of the Infirmary. A yelp was followed by several shocked shouts, and various items clattering across the room.

“Calm… calm down!” Someone said.

All eyes snapped to the disturbance. Several people were backing away. Someone was on the ground, clutching their face and cursing. Flecks of blood decorated the floor. Medical supplies were scattered across the floor.

It was Thaddeus. Breathing and body equally shaky, he to a step out of the bed. One arm was raised; the fist was covered in blood. Shaking, enraged eyes darted around the room, noting each potential target that was in the way of who he wanted. With his other hand, he started ripping out the IV lines connected to him. Someone tried to stop him from doing that. He struck them dead in the face, sending them crashing to the floor.

“What the hell.” Bradford said. Part of him wanted to jump in and stop him, but he needed to think of a way to disable him while causing little to no harm. 

I’m being a little too eager, but time’s not on my side. And that thing was prodding him to get started. Let’s see what damage I can cause before I’m put under again or the blood loss gets me… Let the blood loss get me.

He opened his mouth, but only a hoarse wheeze came out. Mentally, he cursed. He struggled to clear his throat. It felt like that part of him was glued shut from the lack of use, but with a little force, those muscles started to move. What came out wasn’t English. 

“››Y-you all are… are slipping.‹‹” From a parched and under-used throat, the words came out stilted. Those rage-filled eyes continued to scan to room. Who’s next? Who’s next?  “›› Let’s see the dent…. I can make… before all goes dark.‹‹” A twisted grin crossed his face.

“What did he say?” Tyler was frantically typing away on her tablet to call up security.

“Sounded Arabic… I have no clue.” Bradford said. He faintly recalled the Commander could speak more than one language. “Why is he so hostile?”

“I think I would be if I were in his shoes.” She said. “He’s been locked up for 20 years and now he’s in unfamiliar surroundings and most likely more ‘free’ than he’s ever been. And who knows if he was conscious during that time!”

“I get it.” What to do? What to say? Could he ever understand them if he was speaking Arabic?

“It’s remarkable he’s able to stand so soon.” Tygan spoke his thoughts. As soon as he said that, Thaddeus began to falter.

A solid pulse wrapped around Thaddeus’ skull, making him grunt. His stance wavered as the shakiness in his legs grew until one gave way. He caught himself on the bed before he hit the ground. A pool of blood was slowly ground around his feet.

Time is ticking. That being whispered in his ear. Get to that prize. Lure it. Before all goes dark.

Someone tried to get close to him, but a snarl made them back away.

Tygan silently cursed as he noticed the torn-out IVs. “We need to get him back down before he causes more harm to himself.”

“I think that will be easier said than done, doc.” Bradford said.

Again, someone tried to get close to Thaddeus. They crouched down and raised their hands as they spoke in a calm voice. 

“Hey, hey now. We’re friendlies. You’re in good hands. Safe hands. Not the aliens. Not the Elders.”

It seemed like their attempt was working. Thaddeus’ terse breathing was slowing, and those eyes were jumping around less. That curled fist was relenting. 

But just as they took a step closer…

WHACK

“SON OF A —”

“Back off!” 

He struck again. Another broken nose added to the casualties. And this time, he spoke in English.

“Oh, shit.” Bradford noticed something different. The look in Thaddeus’ eyes was growing more intense. He was dropping lower to the floor, each leg shifting further apart, and his hands flexing open. Next thing, the man let out an angry roar and lunged at the unfortunate worker. He was going to claw and beat their face in. Dammit.

 He needed to act now. 

“Thadd!” Bradford yelled as he sprung into action. Before the madman could get their third strike in, a swift tackle took him off the worker. They crashed into the gurney, tipping it over. Everyone nearby scattered.

Oh! He came to you. Perfect. The knife. That being goaded.

They tussled on the floor. Bradford tried talking some sense as he struggled to get a hold of his hands — hands that tried to get that knife — and pin him down. No words were piercing that rage; it just seemed to make him angrier. Bradford was struggling in general as the fight continued on. To his utter shock, Thaddeus had a great amount of strength. Something that shouldn’t have been possible according to the doctors’ examinations. 

Muscle atrophy, my as—

There was a loud, audible snap.

“Ah!” Bradford gasped.

He felt something bend and break in one of his hands. The next thing he knew, he was on his back and felt a solid strike against his face. Repeated strikes.

“Die! Die! Die! DIE! DIE! DIE!” Thaddeus screeched, like a mad banshee. Seemed like he had completely forgotten about the knife and wanted to get down and dirty with his fists. 

Hm. More personal. The voice was now dower before becoming more excited. Slow results, but will still get the result. 

The beatdown felt like it went on for ages before it stopped suddenly as quickly as it began. Security had arrived, and they pulled him off of Bradford. Which only resulted in the fight escalating again. It was like Thaddeus’ strength knew no bounds.

Someone managed to drag a disorientated Bradford away from the fight before the tussle fell back on him. They got him to the other side of the room and on a bed. A quick examination revealed a broken hand, a broken nose, and a possible concussion.

It took security collectively pinning him to the floor and a doctor administering some sedatives to finally subdue Thaddeus. Even then, it took almost 10 minutes for him to finally pass out. He was struggling and spitting curses and venom the entire time.

The being lingering near him didn’t help. It voiced its disappointment but felt like there would be another time to strike. To test. It was curious how they were working to save him and were being as gentle as possible with Thaddeus. 

Maybe this is your salvation. Yet, we do not know… Yet. Till you wake again. It began to fade. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

———————————————

“Get him restrained to a bed and monitor his vitals! Goodness.” Tyler brushed some loose locks out of her face before readjusting her glasses. She was inputting a whole list of orders and new protocols when dealing with Thaddeus. “That rage…”

“He thinks we’re ADVENT. Ah…” Bradford said with a faint hiss. One doctor was treating his broken nose, and another was resetting his right hand. And then he had a killer headache. He wondered if they had any of those advanced nanomachines so he wouldn’t be out of commission for too long.

“I heard.” She nodded. “What they did to him… I fear his mind is damaged.”

“Mm…” His throat trembled in agreement. This was a setback he wasn’t expecting. Really, he should have expected it. His unhealthy fixation on getting their Commander back blinded him from the potentially nasty truths. “There has to be a way to convince him we’re not them.”

“That would be for Dr. Veer to figure out, as that is her expertise.” Tygan said as he took a seat near them. “I’ve updated her on the current happenings.” 

“Maybe we can get the Templars involved?” Tyler suggested. 

“No. I feel like that would make it worse.” Bradford objected. “A psion’s touch could make him spiral. He may think it’s one of the interrogators, a Sectoid, or one of Them.”

“True…” Tyler sighed. “But the same could be said about a Veer.”

“She doesn’t tap her powers without asking or if it’s an emergency.” Bradford said. And he was glad she was the type of psion that asked before going poking around someone’s brain.

“Maybe…” Tygan tapped his pen against his tablet.

“What, doctor?” Bradford asked.

“This is something we should run by Veer first, but what if we bring familiar faces for Thaddeus to see?”

Bradford pondered on that for a moment before shaking his head. “Doubt that since he tried caving my face in.”

“You look and sound different.” Tyler pointed at him. “20 long years living on the fringes has aged you more than some others. As well as that scar on your face.”

Bradford opened his mouth before biting it shut. He looked away. Painful memories were coming to the surface. Those years roughing it with his outfit of misfits hitting ADVENT whenever they could, mulling over the bitter defeat of XCOM, and drinking his nights(and days) away, before they crossed paths with some old friends that set him back on the right path. Those years… he didn’t miss. The damn bottle… It’s a miracle I still have a liver and my mind is still intact. He took a deep breath and let out a long, annoyed hiss. She had a point.

“We’ll figure something out.” Tyler said. She gently patted his thigh, noticing his pained expression. “There have to be some old personnel here the years have been more kind to.” 

“Mh hm.” Bradford nodded. “Let’s keep it to the ones that don’t have loose lips.”

“I was going to prioritize Senior Staff first before everyone else.” Tygan said, with a faint chuckle.

“Good.”

Their conversation continued for about an hour as they discussed other issues and possibilities they would have to account for when Thaddeus was awake again.

To Bradford’s relief, they had some advanced nanomachines they could administer to treat the fractures and potential concussion. In a few days, or less, his hand and nose would be like new, and those headaches should be gone in a few hours.

Once their conversation was over, Bradford left to make his rounds and placate the crew as news of what happened got out. Some were understanding. Others questioned why they were keeping a madman on the ship. And the worst was mocking him. 

“So this is the great, infallible Commander you and the others always talked up.”

How he wanted to kick their asses, but he let his mouth do the work. A quick dress down and reminding them that Thaddeus had been through hell just like them. Really, what he had gone through was perhaps worse than all of them combined. So, of course, he wasn’t going to be so trusting. 

He even pointed out how some of them reacted when they had been rescued from ADVENT prisons. They were trusting at first. Hell, some of them thought it was a ploy to get their hopes up and cause them to slip up and spill some critical information again before the veil on the ruse was pulled and they were captured once more.

That shut up most. But the murmurs continued. 

———————————————

Some days passed. Thaddeus was still out, partially sedated. The excitement and blood loss from that day had taken it out of him.

But they were going to use that to their advantage. 

During those days, Bradford met up with Dr. Veer several times. It was a mixture of him needing some sessions as the dark thoughts were encroaching and a bottle of wine and whiskey sounded mighty fine at all hours. And then to discuss how they would approach Thaddeus in trying to convince him they weren’t ADVENT.

They scoured the files of all personnel aboard the Avenger and any on the ground at locations near where they were. Narrowing it down to those were personnel from 20 years ago was easy, followed by those who were stationed a the Main Base. But there was an issue. Most looked different, like him. Only a handful looked like they aged gracefully or didn’t look like a shrapnel or a Berserker had rearranged their face.

“Of course, you look mostly the same, Corvo.” He wasn’t sure if he should laugh or roll his eyes. 

Corvo Samaras was one of the Drill Instructors back during the Old War and was now one of the Tactical Training Officers; he wore a few other hats to keep XCOM running smoothly. Despite the man’s sometimes cantankerous personality — and he was a pain in his ass many days — he was a reliable man. 

“And same with Shay. Hopefully, she’ll temper you when we talk to Thaddeus again.” He was more than happy to see she would be a familiar face and hopefully a calming presence. 

He shot a message off to them so they could meet later. 

Dr. Veer and he found a few more Senior Staff, some of the doctors and scientists, and a few soldiers that Thaddeus could potentially remember. The latter three would be a last resort. He was hoping the Senior Staff would be enough.

Once that was done, the two went over potential subjects they could use to convince him they weren’t ADVENT and what news of this New World would be safe to share. 

Veer was quick to bring up they should be careful if he decided to mention Thaddeus’ late fiancée or any family for the matter. Bradford wasn’t even thinking of bringing up his family since that was a touchy subject for most of the survivors. And he dared not bring up anything about her. But, if he had to, he would keep the details of her being dead under wraps. He knew how much Thaddeus loved her and knew that news would tear him apart. 

They eventually found a few potentially safe subjects to speak on, but would have to gauge Thaddeus’ reaction to see how they should continue. Discussing those 20 years was going to be tough.

[number1villainstan]

19, 22, 34

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

My writing journey? I'm not sure if it can be called that, but if it can be then it started young. Very young. I've always been an imaginative child, and I believe the story I have of mine is from third grade. My writing journey is my entire life, really, jumping from fandom to fandom, daydreaming and writing and daydreaming and stopping and starting in fits and bursts in a chaotic waveform with no overarching pattern except for forward and getting better. "When" and "why" I started are useless questions--I've been a writer since I learned enough language to be a writer. There have always been stories living inside my head. I am a writer because I am a writer. I was born that way. It is a core part of me.

That being said, there are certain specific milestones to remark on:

When I was 11 or so, I often had the constant urge to write down the stories that were in my head, but I ignored this urge too often. I don't remember why. ADHD task initiation struggles? Lack of access to a computer? An unclear path to accomplish the task? This isn't to say that I ignored that urge 100% of the time--this was around the age when I started making Google Docs with story names, or perhaps I did that earlier. I can't quite remember. But the fact of the matter is--I ignored that urge too often, and now it's gone and I do not know how to get that fire back. It would help greatly with my own productivity now.

When I was 12, I found FF.net and subsequently made an account. A lot of old, terrible fic is still on that old account.

When I was 14, in August of 2016, I decided to do a little writing challenge for myself--or rather, "so that my readers know I'm not dead" (even if I didn't really have any readers): I wanted to write a short piece every month. And I am still writing a 'short piece' every month. The earliest of those tend to be 300-500 words; nowadays they're upwards of 1000 words, and I believe the longest out of all of them is a solid 3k words. And while I've skipped a few months by accident here and there, I'm proud to say I've been quite consistent with this series.

When I was around 16 or so, two things happened: number 1, I decided to switch from FF.net to Ao3, and number 2, I got a cellphone. When I switched to Ao3 I decided to port only my monthlies, because I had a lot of basically-abandoned multichapter fics on there that I had no idea how to finish, and I made switching to Ao3 a new start--I was a chronic pantser at that point, and still am in many ways, but that was the point when I started actually writing out notes and small outlines and doing prep work for my stories. Getting a phone was also a notable moment because it enabled me to work on my stories away from a computer, and because of a little journal app called Day One, in which I began to do daily writing practice that wasn't working on a specific WIP.

As I started to close out high school, I wrote and published on Ao3 my very first finished (and currently only) multichapter fic: start living when your heart stops, which was originally supposed to be 5 chapters and ended up 9 chapters. It was my first proper exercise in plotting out a story, and it was made possible in large part by an enforced and regular routine that I lost when COVID hit and when I went to college.

(There were probably certain milestones that I hit while in college--such as participating in my first (and currently only) bang/fic-and-art exchange event, or switching from Google Docs to LibreOffice--but none are jumping out at me as important.)

As for where I am now? I'm still working on prep work, and I still don't have a good routine for writing. But the ideas that I have are evolving. I've entered an experimental era of sorts, dipping my toes into things I'm not practiced at writing, even with my extensive history of wild AUs, such as symbolism, real-world critiques, longer narratives and more complex narrative structures. I am also attempting to (at least sometimes) force myself to write more than one draft, because I know full well that my writing improves dramatically with more than one draft, but without a solid routine for writing (and with ADHD on top of that) it's difficult to make myself do so. Still, I'm hopeful.

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

Not incredibly. I use mostly my computer and LibreOffice to write my stories, and my usual method of organization is to have an Outline/Notes section at the top of the document (or Brainstorming, if it's an MSP) and an Actual Writing section below that, with subheaders for different chapters or scenes. It allows me to make notes of things that may not be said outright in the story but would still inform character's decisions or plot events and to jump around and write scenes out of order without messing things up or losing track of the story.

I also have Day One, a journal app, which I use for daily writing practice--a lot of random ideas and snippets get written down and stored there, and the consistency of writing in it has (I believe) greatly improved my writing-related microskills, like sentence structure and word choice.

34. Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go:

I love it. Can't get enough of it. It adds so much clarity and conciseness--why isn't it mandatory?