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coffeeandcalligraphy · 3 years

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A chatty writing update | novels, short fiction, etc!

Hi folks!

It’s been a while since I last wrote an update on this blog! I thought it’d be fun to go back to basics, and just talk about writing. This post chats about: new plans for Feeding Habits, my newest novel, my short story goals & growing collection, along with process reflections.

(image description: a photo of green leaves with the text “writing update” in a white font written on top. /end image description)

Post starts under the cut!

General taglist (please ask to be added or removed)

@if-one-of-us-falls, @qatarcookie, @chloeswords, @alicewestwater, @laughtracksonata, @shylawrites, @ev–writes, @jaydewritesfiction, @jennawritesstories @eowynandfaramir, @august-iswriting, @aetherwrites, @avakrahn, @maisulli

What have I been up to?

For starters, I finished my second year of my Writing undergrad last week and got two of my final grades back today (A+ baby)! For anyone who has taken online university, y’all already KNOW, but this year was so difficult. Would not recommend! Really proud of myself to have gotten through this absolute rollercoaster of a school term and am excited to get into some writing. That leads us to:

What have I been up to (writing edition)?

2021 started off so fast. By the time January hit, I was so consumed in my new semester that I did not have time to write Feeding Habits (my novel). In the first few days of the term, I managed to write between class, until I could no longer keep up! Essentially, I did not write any of that novel until exam season (last week), where I did manage to get in about 3k words in ~4 days.

Feeding Habits

I’m currently drafting what I believe will be the last chapter of this book (chapter 10: Swan Song). This chapter is so bizarre for a few reasons. It begins the book’s third part and also marks the shift back into Lonan’s head from Harrison’s. I originally thought this part would be much, much longer, with at least another five chapters to go, but quickly realized the book’s content was nearly completed. In my 4 day 3k palooza, I hit 50k in the book (the word count goal), and couldn’t see myself extending past 60k. Since then, I’ve made the loose decision to write this final chapter as a ~novella. Here are a few reasons why:

1. This chapter is structurally very strange.

I unashamedly shift from present to past to present to past past, and so much more every 12 words. I mapped out the timeline on a sheet of paper, and there were over 20 shifts in scenes (the chapter is only about 4400 words at the moment). The fictive past is incredibly important to this chapter, more important than the present, and I thought it would make more sense to not break randomly for a chapter so I could upkeep the consistent inconsistency of the chapter.

2. The chapter is very abstract

This stems from the structural changes, but there are paragraphs in this chapter of the fictive present that are loosely based in reality. They’re more poems than they are factual paragraphs, and keeping them all contained in one place (so a mega chapter/ novella) would reduce the most confusion!

3. There’s not much left to cover

Like I said above, Feeding Habits is on its last leg, lol! I know exactly where the book needs to end up, which is very, very soon from where I’m currently at on the timeline. Swan Song should cover what 2-4 chapters would cover in terms of arcs.

Feeding Habits and I have a really weird relationship, tbh! When I realized a few weeks ago that it’d been over a year since I started the book, I realized I just needed to finish it. Not that I want to rush (because I’ve taken longer than a year to write a book in the past), but that in order to move onto another project, I’d like to put this one behind first. This book has been the hardest thing I’ve ever written, and has reminded me there’s always a time to let go. This sort of scrounges up a conversation about letting this entire series go, which is certainly something I’ve been contemplating doing soon(ish). If this spinoff series gets a third book, that may or may not be the last Fostered book for a very long time (or ever)! There are many complex reasons to move on, but the main one is that I have other projects I’d like to focus on. This is not a definitive decision, but something I’ve certainly been thinking about!

Here are a few excerpts I wrote recently:

(TW: death, gore)

Dying feels like being a trout dangled out of water. Clinging to a hook. Mouth open. Scales iridescent in a final death cry. It’s like blood spurting up the knuckles, drowning out the flesh. It’s that moment on the long fall down when the clouds cup the body. Easy drifting. The sound a skull makes when it cracks is really just the afterthought.

(TW: death, gore)

Kill shot. Death blow. Coup de grace. Right in the heart. He feels it. The blood swelling, slicking his palms. He can do it. Reach into the cavity. Feel for the ribs. Part each bone. Then cup the humming heart. Stay there. Right. It’s never been easier.

Look at this PURE moment of Lonan holding a baby I CANNOT:

The grocery store was a fifteen-minute walk away. With Olivia clinging to his shoulder, Lonan was acutely aware that she could feel his heartbeat. Open valve. Close. Repeat. Hers pulsed right above his, a miniature drumming. The sky had bruised purple, misted with clouds. The evening air nipped his cheeks, so he made sure Olivia was securely fastened between him and his jacket. With wide eyes, she absorbed the drowsy suburbia, all its family cars pulling into driveways, all its couples heading back home after a sunset walk. When Lonan passed a young boy walking two golden retrievers, Olivia giggled, and didn’t stop, even after he’d spent fifty dollars on groceries and nearly the rest on a red Corolla marked with a MUST GO NOW sign outside a convenience store.

Let’s move on!

Mandy and Cora

I said I wouldn’t talk too much about this project, but I just love it so much?? I wanted to share my SUPER early thoughts on drafting a novel, especially one that is SO different from what I’ve been writing recently. I talked about this before in THIS post, but the summary about this project is that it’s a YA contemporary novel! Can’t believe I’m writing YA again, it’s been so long, but I also think it’s going so well. Everything I’ve learned as a literary fiction writer has been a fantastic primer for transferring back to the genre. Admittedly, I have not written much, but I’m having a lot of fun diving back into a lighter project. This is the summary:

Cora and Mandy are identical twins who’ve always done everything together. But when Mandy decides to go to university out of province after graduation and Cora doesn’t, Cora takes this as an opportunity to “test run” life apart from her sister for the first time by spending the summer at her aunt’s house across the country.

I have come up with a few ~things since I last talked about this project, mostly how I’d like to structure it. As of now, I’d like the book to be structured super loosely. I’m really pulling on a lot of inspo from “We Are Okay” by Nina LaCour (which is SO good), particularly how “nothing happens-y” that book is. This project (which I still need a title for!!) will be structured in short chapters that cover something Cora does on her own for the first time (without Mandy). For example, a few ideas are “Flight”, “Lunch”, and “Groceries”. “Flight” is the first “chapter” (they’re really kind of vignettes) where Cora flies to her aunt’s house. I still can’t determine if this book will take place in Canada. On one hand, I feel like there will be a wider audience if it takes place in the US (is that just an assumption??? maybe?? someone let me know!), but also: don’t really care too much about an audience at the moment! It could also take place in Canada (So Ontario and British Columbia). But if it does take place in the US, I think it may take place in NYC and San Francisco. The problem is: I really don’t like researching lol, and while I’ve been to NYC many times, I will definitely write it wrong! Does this really matter on a first draft?? absolutely not lol, but of course I am already overthinking!

But back to structure: I am looking forward to seeing what this looser structure will do. This is a story that is solely around one half of a set of twins learning to be her own person (and ultimately that she doesn’t have to completely forget her sister in order to do that), and as a twin who KNOWS this feeling, I think this structure of her doing things for the first time is SUPER relatable.

I was worried it might sound silly/worrying to others who are not twins that Cora hadn’t done things like “lunch” or “groceries” on her own, but I feel this so much as an identical twin myself! Not that she hasn’t done anything at all by herself, but as a twin, when you do something without your twin for the first few times, at least in my experience, you notice. If any twins are reading this--weigh in!

This story is the most personal thing I’ve ever written. It definitely is an OwnVoices book! Usually, I avoid details that are remotely similar to me because they make me uncomfortable haha, but with this book, it’s all me, lol! The characters are all Guyanese, which is SO fun because I’ve been planning what they eat (my fellow Caribbean peeps know: the FOOD!), which is so fun (yes they have pumpkin and shrimp, yes they have roti, yes they have pera, yes they have mithai). Every time I’ve gone to dabble at this book, or even think about it, I get incredibly emotional for this reason? I don’t exactly know why. I think this is a story I just so want to tell, with the culture I love SO much that I definitely struggled to love as a child. This is reclamation bitchessss!

Not going to lie tho: the prospect of writing ~a book~ is kind of freaky! I’m going to make the minimum word count for this book pretty short (50k) and see where it goes from there. I think I will focus on this project this summer! Originally I was going to write a literary novel this summer, but I think this one’s calling my name!

Here’s a pretty rough excerpt:

Try. I remind myself that’s what I’m doing after the flight attendant fills me a disposable cup of Coca Cola and all I can think of is Mandy and I shoving Mentos into a bottle of the stuff when we were twelve. Just me, wedged in the middle seat between an exchange student heading out for summer break and a middle-aged woman sipping a cocktail, thinking of Mandy and I bursting whole oranges in a blender when we were bored one Winter break as the plane dips through a wave of turbulence. Mandy and I dying our hair neon green with highlighters (didn’t work—our hair is too dark) as the plane lands on the tarmac. Mandy and I arguing so loud last month, we both lost our voices as I lug my carry-on out of the overhead compartment and shuffle off the plane and through the airport, searching for Aunt Vel.

Short Fiction

I’ve written so much short fiction this year! I have a goal to write a short story a month (they can range in length, as long as 1 is “complete”), so my short story brain has seriously been soaking it all up lately. Let’s chat my month to month breakdown so far:

January:

I wrote four stories in January! The first is a flash fiction piece called “Shark Swimming” that follows a young woman who attends a shark swimming class after breaking up with her girlfriend. I wrote this story for a “test” workshop for my fiction class, and it was based off the prompt “think about something you’re afraid to do and make the character do that thing”. I’m not particularly afraid of sharks, but had been wanting to use the title “Shark Swimming” for AGES (literally since 2018).

This story is one of my favourites. It’s only about 900 words, but I think there’s something profound in how mundanely specific it is. The entire story doesn’t even see the narrator swim with sharks once; it actually takes place fully in the sanctuary’s lobby. But I really love this narrator. This is the first story I’ve written in second person in a while, though I felt really connected to the unnamed narrator. She struggles with accepting that she truly is a “boring” person, and there’s something about the final image that really gets me!

I’ve been submitting this around, though it’s been rejected a handful of times. Hoping I can secure it at a magazine one day because I really love it!

The second story is “Joanne, I’ll Pray for You” which is actually a rewrite of one of my very first short stories (the first story I did not write for a class haha), “NYC in Your Apartment”. I LOVE this rewrite a lot, and also learned the original is not a very good short story! Revising this story taught me just how much I’ve learned in the 2 years I’ve been writing short fiction. Seeing the 2019 version versus the 2021 version side by side is fascinating because I essentially “gutted’ the 2019 version of its beginning and end until all that was left was the middle of the story (aka the actual story). AKA: this is the only story I’ve ever written with a hopeful ending and I cut out all the happy bits lol I am SO sorry (that arc is more for a novel or novella). That’s how this went from a 5k word story to an 1800 word story (my Submittable thanks me for this lol). A lot of details and scenes I included were more pertinent to a 3 act structure/novel, which of course short stories don’t often have because of their brevity. I love rambling about writing theory, and seeing that actually pay off is so fascinating!

(TW: trauma)

Like the original, this story follows Joanne, a woman in her early twenties, who spontaneously breaks up with her boyfriend. She claims the poltergeist haunting her drove her to this decision. The original draft focused a lot more on the traumatic events Joanne survives, but this draft really loosens them up. It focuses less so on the events themselves, and more on how Joanne’s life is affected. I found the details of these events were less important, and even sort of contradicted Joanne’s insistence she is being haunted. Instead, the poltergeist really takes more precedence in the new draft as a force Joanne doesn’t understand. That ambiguity, I think, is what the story truly needed.

I also centralized Joanne’s relationship with her boyfriend, Julian, here. Now don’t get me wrong, I really didn’t add anything to this draft. It was a matter of trimming the fat around it to leave the lean “meat” in the centre. But by removing that fat, I was able to emphasize what was most important here, and that was her relationship. Julian always played a really big role in the original draft, but I feel like his role as both a friend and partner to Joanne is much more emphasized since this draft literally is only two scenes now. Because there is less, there is more room for Joanne to reflect, which I’m happy about!

A final change I made was the setting and therefore the title. The original, which was “NYC in Your Apartment,” I couldn’t keep because I shifted the setting to Toronto (this is how I originally saw it, but in 2019 I just?? couldn’t?? write?? canlit??), and “Toronto in Your Apartment” sounded sort of gross LOL. The new title comes from a line in the story which I think is more relevant to the themes!

The next short story I wrote in January was “How to Spell Alpaca.” This one is super fun because I wrote it SO fast (in about 15 minutes or so). THIS is the writing update if you’re interested in learning more. I talked extensively about this one in that update, but some developments are that I dove into an edit a few weeks ago to really understand the core of the story. I’m still not quite there (this is just an intuitive feeling; I know not everything has “clicked), but I am really intrigued by the two mothers in the story, the narrator, and her newfound acquaintance, Violet. Both really struggle to understand their place as mothers (the narrator even declares she isn’t a mother anymore). The narrator, who is in her 50s, sees herself in Violet, who is much younger (~20s), and so she views Violet’s relationship with her daughter in a cautionary, yet mournful way, like she can see it will end up like her own relationship with her daughter, despite wanting the opposite. This is a really subtle story. I feel like if you blink, you’ll miss the message. But I think it’s compelling for that reason. It’s really a portrait of parenting and how to grapple with mistakes you may make that inevitably affect your children. Wow just unlocked the theme writing this lol.

The final story I wrote in January is “The Party,” which may be in my top 3 faves I’ve ever written. This story follows Aida, a recent divorcee in her ~40s. The day her divorce turns official, she moves into a new house and receives a party invitation addressed to the previous homeowner, yet RSVP’s anyway. At this party, she’s hoping to find some sense of noticeability, having struggled with being nondescript her whole life. Things seem quite normal at the party, until it gets bizarre.

I LOVE this story, y’all. Like “How to Spell Alpaca” it really delves into motherhood. Aida, our narrator, is incredibly hurt after her divorce. She now lives farther from her children she struggled to feel connected to in the first place, and doesn’t really know how to reignite her life. This party is a means to do that. This is the first story I’ve written that contains a “twist” which is strange because I really prefer stories that give us as much info as possible upfront, but yes, this one sort of twists.

February

I wrote one story in February, and that was “Protect the Young.” This title is SO changing when I think of a new one because it’s thematically incorrect, haha, but this story follows a woman in her late 40s whose daughter, Lindy, announces she is married the same day all their backyard chickens turn up dead. The discovery of dead chickens prompts our narrator to recall her ex-husband’s murder and the role her daughter may have played in his death.

I love this story so much! I think this would make a great closing for my short story collection. It just has that vibe! I wrote this for my second fiction workshop. I thought I had to hand in the story a week earlier than I had to, so I panicked and wrote this in one sitting! Little did I know, I did not need to do that lol but I’m very happy because this story is so fun. We get to learn more about Arnold (her ex), his relationship with Lindy, and how that translates to Lindy’s relationship with her new husband, Malcolm. I LOVE true crime (I listen to about 3-4 hours of case coverage daily), and this is my first “true crime” story. Because of that, I’m very sus of a few details that probably wouldn’t slide in actual investigatory work, so I’ll also be working on that in a revision. My professor also gave me a great suggestion that may alter the story’s structure a bit, though I look forward to toggling with it in the future.

March

In March, I was really on a Criminal Minds kick lol. I’ve been watching this show since I was seven (oops), and dove into a rewatch since it hit Disney+! This story, “Where to Run When the Lamb Roars,” is very clearly Rachel watching 5 episodes of CM a day. Oops! We follow 14-year-old Astrid as she and her older half brother kidnap a young girl to sacrifice for their yearly ritual.

I knew a few things going into this story, but the main thing was that I did NOT want to show any details of a potential murder (if one even occurs). I really wanted to keep all of those elements off the page because this story is not about those events, but about Astrid’s relationship with her brother. They are a murderous duo, with Astrid actually being the dominant partner. I wanted to explore that. I knew her brother, Fox, was more of a submissive partner in their team, even when he used to do this same thing with his father when he was much younger (chilling!), and so it was a task to explore how this young girl’s desire for violence works. The end actually comes right before the story starts, one could say, but I like it for this reason. It really made me contemplate the story by the time I finished it, and helped me examine what it really was about versus what it appeared to be about.

April

(TW: sexual content, non explicit)

I was so busy this month! Who knows if I’ll write a story last minute, but I did write one story this month called “Five Times Fast.” I wrote this during a “writing sprint” that was being hosted at a flash fiction workshop I recently took with one of my favourite writers ever, K-Ming Chang. I learned so much from this class, and am so happy I came out of it with a draft! This story is just over 300 words, so the shortest flash I’ve ever written, but I’m really happy with it. It was based off the prompt “describe the last time you or your character was naked.” In this case, the narrator has a “friends with benefits” relationship with Ricky who works at a laundromat. This story highlights a moment in this relationship (and also Ricky’s goofy personality lol). I really like it! Hopefully I’ll submit it to some magazines soon.

My short story collection

Very briefly I wanted to touch on my short story collection which I’ve titled “She is Also Dead.” I’ve been meaning to make a blog post on this, so look out for that in the coming months, but this collection is already at around 35k words (about 14 stories so far). The collection also surprisingly has a solid amount of flash fiction which is kind of fun! There’s definitely a range here, which is what I personally love in short story collections.

I feel very professional now that I have a ~collection chart. This is her:

(image description: A chart with the title “She is Also Dead.” It is broken into four columns: Story, Status, Word Count, and Published. Entry 1 - Story: Slaughter the Animal. Status: Revisions, Word Count, 3982, Published: N/A. Entry 2 - Story: Joanne, I’ll Pray for You, Status: Polished, Word Count: 1809, Published: N/A. Entry 3 - Story: Primary Organs, Status: Published, Word Count: 2342, Published: The Malahat Review. Entry 4 - Story: Faberge, Status, Polished, Word Count: 619, Published: N/A. Entry 5 - Story: The Wolf-Antelope Will Not Come for Us, Status, Polished, Word Count: 1556, Published: filling Station (forthcoming). Entry 6 - Story: How to Spell Alpaca, Status: revisions, Word Count: 1327, Published: N/A. Entry 7 - Story: Blink Twice for Final Judgement, Status: Polished, Word Count: 6572, Published: N/A. Entry 8 - Story: The Species is Dead, Status: Published, Word Count: 1208, Published: Minola Review. Entry 9 - Story: Shark Swimming, Status: Polished, Word Count: 907, Published: N/A. Entry 10 - Story: The Party, Status, Polished, Word Count 2339, Published: N/A. Entry 11 - Story: Fig, Status: Polished, Word Counter: 947, Published: N/A. Entry 12 - Story: Protect the Young, Status: Revisions, Word Count: 4128, Published: N/A. Entry 13 - Story: Where to Run When the Lamb Roars, Status: Revisions, Word Count: 2174, Published: N/A. Entry 14 - Story: Phantom Limbs, Status: Revisions, Word Count: 4844, Published: N/A.) /end image description.

This order is DEFINITELY not permanent (at this point whenever I write a story, I just fit it randomly into this chart lol), and some of the info is outdated (for example, Slaughter the Animal is now polished!!! thank god!!!). But just an idea of what I’m thinking of including.

This is the summary so far:

In SHE IS ALSO DEAD, characters are pushed to act on their gravest impulses. A small town turns murderous when their local invasive species, the Janices, begin dying. A child struggles to understand her mother’s suicide. A college dropout who insists she’s being haunted by a poltergeist unexpectedly breaks up with her boyfriend. A mother acknowledges her daughter’s murderous tendencies after her backyard chickens mysteriously die. A young girl caters the funeral of a girl rumored to be killed by a wolf-antelope. A newly-divorced mother RSVP’s to a bizarre party she was not invited to, and a murderous brother and sister upkeep their yearly tradition of abducting a young girl. These stories follow characters who navigate death, violent desires, womanhood, and loss, both self-imposed and otherwise.

This is also so subject to change as I may pull and add stories to the collection!

I think I’m going to leave this update here for now! I’ve written TONS of poetry too, but I honestly ~hate my poetry right now lol, so! Hope you enjoyed this chill rambly update. Hope writing has going well for you all! All the best!

--Rachel

#writing #writeblr #writerblr #amwriting #writingupdates

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beni-draw-ikemen-please · 4 years

Text

EYES NOSE LIPS CH 4

EYES NOSE LIPS CHAPTER 4 - DON’T

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR X FEMALE PREFECT

Rating: Mature Readers (no smut yet)/ Fluff

Word Count: 4,072

You can read the previous Chapters below:

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4 — DON’T

“Ever since I was born, there’s been an immovable stone on top of my head. No matter what I do — I’ll never be king. Even if I studied all of the magic in the world and master them — to be king? — Never. Just because it’s an inevitable force as the order of your birth — life’s not fair.”

A lavish lifestyle with no real responsibilities rendered Leona to be a slothful prince. His role as second prince of the savanna and his line of kinship was a vignette — completely disappearing as soon as Cheka, his nephew was born.

The moment Leona discovered his curse was when he finally understood what his gift was. His small hands held valuable tapestry, stones, and fruits born from the rich lands but they all turned to sand. A prince of the savanna, whose magic was to turn everything, even human beings and fellow beasts, to sand — he’d been feared even by his closest retainers. The fertile lands feared long dry spells, and he was one to instantly cause it. He could hear the giant murmurs and the whispers of disgust. If he wasn’t a prince, he would have been exiled or executed.

Leona loved his older brother, Farena, with all he had. He was a thunderous presence, admirable strength, and like the sun, a source of warmth and inspiration for all.

And there he was, the second son. Leona felt himself as a small and dark dot slithering towards the bright gradient of pink and orange that was a sun in the horizons of the savanna. A long road ahead of him, and looking back, there were only shadows and thorns. His shadow grew further and further away as he walked towards the bright source of light. Beneath his feet was dust and sand — the vestiges of his curse. Once they were living, now no more under his hand.

He could hear his older brother call out to him. An echo that haunted him every night. The echo that hummed him to sleep each night. The warmth that fed his cold.

****

Leona barely saw the prefect in the last two days before the Ramshackle Dorm handover. He attended class, much to everyone’s surprise, barely absorbed in any lesson though. And yes, he was relieved to be praised by Trein for coming to class, but this time, his head was filled with thoughts of the prefect. The exterior hallways never changed, in the hundred years that Night Raven College stood, very little things changed. And in his three years there, the deep green carpets that extended like eternity didn’t impress him one bit. They were a boring sight. Nothing new. His brows knitted in boredom.

“Where is she now?”

“Club activities? Since when? I thought she was busy with chores in Savanaclaw and especially making food.”

“To think she would have time for club activities.”

Leona lazily scratched his right eyebrow, whilst fighting the urge to sleep through last periods. After class, he will have Magift training; being the captain, he needs his energy every single day. Magift training was something he never missed. But ever since they slept together, his focus was now somewhere else.

The night before, he allowed himself to fall asleep with Asami happily atop his bed. Not that they did anything strange, no. He would recall the moment when he awoke in the middle of the night. His own restlessness jerking him up from his slumber. Someone else’s hands and arms wrapped around him that night. Was he dreaming?

He opened his eyes, and as they adjusted to the darkness of his room, he recognised the events of the previous afternoon. Asami lay on her side, her one leg clung to Leona’s. Her arms wrapped around his torso, practically hugging him closer to him, if there was any other chance to be closer than that. Her dark hair filled his favourite pillows — burgundy and mustard yellow.

He couldn't believe he actually slept in his clothes. And as his eyes hovered over Asami’s sleeping figure, he could slightly peek under her skirt that was now lifted by their shifting sleeping positions. She wore black tights so there was really nothing to see, but the thought of her sprawled on his bed, made it almost impossible for Leona to fall asleep.

He, in fact, stayed awake — the whole night. Just watching her. Just resting there, limbs tangled with hers. He had zero regrets staying where he was. He listened to her breathing, as he did before he fell asleep.

When daybreak came, Leona pulled himself off the bed and took his time to sober himself up from the drunkenness of being in her embrace.

He wanted so badly to be around her more often.

He started wanting to be around her?

When morning came, he felt fine. When she woke up just as he was drying his hair, he was glad to have that stupid towel on his head. He could at least cover his face.

Leona Kingscholar wanting to hide his face? It was a thought that made him scoff. But when he looked at the prefect, there was no fear in her eyes. No fear, but worry. How worried she looked as she searched his face for unknown answers formed a dry lump on his throat.

Why does she look so worried about me? When she needs to worry about herself?

Leona didn’t understand it. How casually she walked behind him on the way to the Savanaclaw mirror. And how, despite the intense blush on her face, she stayed closed as they passed through. And, as he was about to head towards the third year hallways, the way she called out to him made the hairs on his nape tingle a bit.

*****

“You sleep with Ruggie—” Leona blocked the way to his room as Grim attempted his daily retreat.

“Why?! We— we still have tonight and tomorrow!” Grim pushed him with his soft grey paws in protest.

“But you can sleep with Ruggie. He’ll prep a meat platter for you—” Leona’s haughty offer was truly tempting for the small grey monster. But Grim was undoubtedly tired from the past two weeks. And he really just wanted to rest.

Leona kept his stance, calling out to Ruggie as he dodged Grim’s attempts to push him away.

“What about my minion? Where will she sleep?!! Don’t tell me, with Ruggie or Jack!” Grim was angry, the blue flames of his ears burning brighter with every word. Leona let out a sordid laughter.

“What do you mean? The kitten will be sleeping with me—” His relaxed countenance made the furs on the back of Grim’s scruff stand up. Leona’s bloodthirst emanated from that smirk. And Grim knew better than to stand up to the king of beasts.

“Hunyaaaa—!!!!!!!” Grim jumped, protecting his tail, and Ruggie carried him off by the scruff.

Leona waited. His arms tucked under his head, he waited while relaxing atop his bed. His eyes glued to the doorknob. He wasn’t really sure what would happen, what he would say or what would be the offer when the prefect returned; but he waited for her return. Restless turning and shifting. His ears twitch every time he heard footsteps passed by the hallway leading to his room.

Leona clicked his tongue. Where is she?

She’s supposed to be back by now. Leona took a deep breath to try and relax himself. It wasn’t like him to be this excited over a girl. Before he knew it, he was fast asleep.

****

“Are you excited?” Jade Leech towered over her. The twins both did. She was a small thing compared to them but after working part-time at the Mostro Lounge for two weeks, her fear of them dissipated. Floyd was now more playful around her and would even hug her randomly. Jade noticed her interest in the variety of tea leaves they housed in Mostro Lounge, and to his surprise, their little human actually had a knack for blending leaves. Her brewing methods might need some refining work, but he appreciated the care she put into every pot she made.

Jade took a liking to her, day by day, his gold and rust-coloured eyes would follow her around as she waltzed around the floors of the lounge. They’ve gotten a lot more patrons since she started her part-time shifts. And Azul, was gracious enough to let her have her dorm back, and her part-time spot. Their initial deal was problematic, but Asami worked hard to earn her keep and Azul was a man of his word. And, he found better use for the prefect other than making her his errand dog.

“I’m excited! It feels like a long two weeks….” Asami held the tray close to her chest. Her shift was almost done. Jade looked at her, there was a certain calmed chaos that crashed in his sharp eyes; like the waves that crashed into the shore.

“It must be tough living in Savanaclaw—” Jade’s voice was always calm. And it was soothing to Asami’s ears. She’s grown to like him and she was happy not to be judged whenever she rambled about tea leaves and indoor plants and mushrooms. But the mere mention of Savanaclaw softly wiped the smile of her face. Her head bobbed low, Jade waited for her words to come out.

“It’s not really tough… I actually—” Jade leaned towards her, she had this habit of talking so soft it became hard to understand what she was actually saying at times. But he didn’t really mind it as he accustomed himself around her. It gave him a better excuse to lean in and carefully listen.

“I actually like it there… I’ve grown to like everyone in Savanaclaw—” A meek smile bounced back on her face. A slight blush creeping up reaching even her small ears.

He saw the blush on her cheeks at the slight mention of Savanaclaw. And how, whenever the dorm was mentioned, she'd dip her head low, almost as if trying to hide her already small self. Jade noticed. How she would let out a heavy sigh when someone enters the lounge. It was as if she was expecting someone to walk in, but it never turned out to be the person she wanted to see. When blazers adorn with yellow ribbons walked by, how her eyes would open wide — like a child peeking through the windows of a candy store for the first time. Her eyes searched for something. Maybe, someone. And Jade, very much wanted to know who that person was.

Jade Leech would feel his head slowly shift towards her direction. Just as she finished her shift, he carefully watched how she hurriedly removed her white bow tie and fedora hat then headed towards the changing rooms. With elegant, careful and elaborate gloved hands, Jade took a copper canister and examined the next blend Asami had prepared.

Loose black tea, bits of dried mint and shaved chocolate bits. He took in a deep breath. An exquisite blend. He carefully ran a finger over the characters Asami had written on the canister label. “Chocolate Mint Truffle” in small dainty cursives. A smile gently appeared on Jade’s face.

How lovely. He thought to himself.

****

Leona could feel the peeking sun peel his eyes open. “Tch—” he muttered as soon as he felt himself wake up. Too bright. He thought. His hand reached for his phone to check the time.

Too early. Too early for anything.

Leona felt himself jump out of bed to look around. He suddenly remembered that he wanted to wait for the prefect to return. But he unknowingly fell asleep. Out of frustration? Out of anticipation? Maybe actual exhaustion? He looked around the room, and found her sound asleep on the usual futon on his carpeted floor.

It was the first time he actually woke up to her sleeping there. Minus their ‘sleeping together’ incident, of course. He felt a sense of relief on his shoulders at the very sight of her. Her guard, finally down — and she allowed herself to be there — knowing he can wake up at any given time.

Leona languidly moved from his bed down to the floor and even closer to her. Asami lay on her side, her hands in front of her face and slightly covering her lips. It was the steady and soft breathing which was familiar to him. And how he treasured that moment.

Leona then — with half-lidded eyes — moved closer to the prefect. And he joined her space, snuggling himself behind her sleeping figure. His arm drew closer to her — if not — maybe it was him who actually scooted closer to her.

He couldn't remember, he was falling fast asleep again as he found comfort in the scent of her. She was familiar and warm; a tantalising medley of wanting, longing and owning overcame his senses as he, yet again, allowed himself to be in this world. The world that was just her.

****

Asami couldn’t remember when the last time she slept so comfortably in Leona’s room. She had been actively avoiding it. And frankly, she didn’t remember sleeping there for more than just a few hours. But yesterday was an exception. She arrived at Savanaclaw later than usual. Evening meals have been cleared, after-dinner runs are done and the lounge is empty. No one in sight. Her feet dragged her to Leona’s room, the only oasis she knew she could run to. She opened the door ever so softly, still managing a soft creak, and as she peaked inside, Leona’s sleeping figure assured her that everything was normal.

She fell onto the futon, not even noticing that Grim was gone. Leona’s soft snores made her smile, and she let herself rest and fall asleep.

At least, that’s what she last remembered.

Her last day in Savanaclaw, Asami awoke to strong arms around her waist. And the warmth of long luscious strands all over her face. A soft kind of purring buried onto the back of her head, soft breaths tickled her hair and ears. “A cat?”

She didn’t remember Grim being in the room, nor him being this big—

She felt her cheeks turn hot when she realised what was happening. Her fingers slowly and gingerly brushed over his hand—a tight grip on her waist, drawing her to his crouched figure. Asami tried to face him, but his grip was much tighter than she could manage.

“Leona-senpai…” her soft voice called out to him, she was careful not to wake him so suddenly. She knew his waking mood was not the best, and she didn’t feel like getting devoured after working so hard to be under his mercy these past two weeks.

He let out a soft groan. A rather gentle groan, and pulled her even closer. “Early…” he mumbled, lightly chewing bits of her hair that gave Asami’s back a quick shiver.

“We… We have to get ready….” Her hands tugged his carefully laced fingers around her waist. Her face felt hotter but the minute she felt him breathing into her made her legs squirm a bit.

Leona cleared his throat, and tight hands around Asami suddenly broke free, his body pulling himself off of her yet again. What a pain. What a chore. He thought. He wanted to stay asleep. Why was being around her so comfortable?

Asami looked at the dorm leader, who seemed like he was inebriated. Hand on his forehead and unmoving. Her hand was hesitant to the idea of touching him. When was she okay with actively reaching out to him? Asami couldn’t remember.

“I’m sorry I woke you… Dorm leader…” Her eyes worried and focused on him. Worried he might have not slept all right. Worried she woke him up when she arrived and opened the door. Worried he might be angry at her. Searching, her eyes searching for an indication that he was okay and he wasn’t angry.

Leona’s eyes found hers. Sleep still drowned his focus. He reached out to her and held her close to him. Head resting on her small shoulders “Five…. Minutes.” He mumbled softly, like a child refusing to get ready for school. It was sweet, she thought. She did not move, she let herself enjoy this version of him. Like a dream she refused to wake up from.

Leona languidly pushed her off of him and slowly stood up, and still ended up sitting on his bed. Hands covered his eyes — almost as if he was trying to hide himself. Asami stood up and smoothed her pajamas before approaching him.

“Are you okay?” Asami ducked lower to meet his eyes, worried he might not be feeling well.

“I’m fine” Leona faced her, eyes now focused and awake.

Her eyes fixated on him, seemingly searching for a sign. What exactly would that sign be? He didn’t know. But only now, only then, did he notice how the centre of her eyes were dark red. Something dark in the middle of the bright carnelian swirls of her eyes. Her face in the morning was soothing, in a way. Somehow it was alright, and it felt right to be there. Leona didn’t realise it but his hand was already reaching out to touch her. Warm palms rested on her neck. He felt himself gulp, as he took in the sight of her. Waking up not cramming to get ready to be anywhere or to do anything. But waking up, to see her.

How beautiful. He thought to himself but he was careful not to say it out loud.

Asami was still. It was as if she understood the need to be still whilst his hand rested on her neck. Her hair was a bit messy but it didn’t bother him, really.

Did she always wear pajamas?

He doesn’t really know.

Did she always wear that light pink colour? It suits her. He thought.

Asami was still, and yet she seemed to look brighter and brighter the more he looked at her. Like the rising sun in the savanna. The lone golden sphere pushing away the darkness of everything. His darkness, perhaps?

“Did you sleep well?'' Finally she broke the silence. Voice still soft and husked from slumber. Her lips moved so beautifully, he thought. How he wanted it. Since when he thought he wanted them, he wasn’t certain. But his eyes trailed from her eyes, down to her small nose, and then to her lips. Slightly parted lips, flushed cheeks, like they always are around him.

Did he make her so nervous her face is always this flushed? He wasn’t certain. He thought he knew a lot of things. Leona Kingscholar thought he got the lion’s share of intellect. But now he realises that he has a list of things he did not know. And she was on the top of that list.

He paused for a moment, and looked to what appears to be the direction of her chest. Leona looked away and cleared his throat.

“You should change…” and he coughed again, hastily standing and heading for his dresser to throw her a fresh towel. “I mean get ready…” lazily pointing at the bathroom door as he walked out of the room. Asami looked down at herself and realised that her pajama top’s spaghetti straps were already half off her, revealing the top part of her chest. Asami ducked to cover herself but Leona was already out of sight.

Yet again, she felt very small around him. And in that corner of his room, her face and ears displayed a brighter deeper tint of red.

It was their last day in Leona’s room. And Asami felt a heavy kind of melancholy wrap around her as she finished getting ready. She looked around; his pine green sheets were still new from yesterday. His dresser — messy as always — looked the same no matter how many times she cleaned up. Shirts half-pulled and other bits of clothing scattered around it. Red and blue beads scattered on the floor. How his choker and bracelets stayed in place, she will forever wonder.

Not that she minded, really. She enjoyed the last few days of it. She sat quietly atop his bed. Reminiscing that time when she felt the closest to him. She slept on his bed and never did she feel any sort of malice come out of it. Leona too, When did she allow herself to be okay with him being around?

When did it start?

How is it that now she could look into his eyes and feel no fear when she had been actively avoiding him during all of her time staying in Savanaclaw?

Asami folded her futon and gathered her things, tightly zipping her duffel bag close. She took a deep breath, hoping the scent of the room would imprint onto her brain. Who knows when she could step into this room ever again?

She walked out and headed for the hall of mirrors.

That day, Leona Kingscholar didn’t wait for her outside his door.

*****

Leona Kingscholar could feel that he was slowly falling off the world of reason. Ruggie and him took their usual spot at the rooftop during lunch. There was no special box for him or Ruggie. And, when he returned to get ready, the prefect, along with their things were gone. He expected as much.

She must have been glad to get out of there. He thought to himself quietly as he hummed. Leg propped on top of his knee, hands behind his head. Ruggie was quietly eating his lunch, quietly watching the dark-haired prince as he hummed to himself with eyes up to the sky.

“Kantokusei-chan said she’ll come by again to clean, maybe after school.” Ruggie waited for a response. His tone was flat, much like his daily reports. Leona’s tail didn’t swish around in interest. His head unmoving and his store-bought lunch untouched. Ruggie thought of things to goad Leona.

“I’m sure she’ll drop by to give you a thank you present or something—” Ruggie chuckled, a hint of teasing formed his sentence.

“Whatever.” he drawled. Leona did not wait for her. Instead, he let her take her time and got ready somewhere else. He didn’t feel like staying in the same room after the sight of her, in that.

He didn’t want anything from her. Leona didn’t want to think the prefect owed him anything. Quite frankly, he didn’t want to think about her at all. The amount of wanting and owning he had for her was only on a bare simmer. And he was well aware that, sooner or later— if he allowed it — he’ll want enough to carve his way into her life if he let it bubble away. He had the chance to kill the fire. And the prefect moving out of his room meant he would see her less. And he will have no chance to interact with her.

For a second, it gave Leona a sense of relief. A kind of normality, after two weeks of abnormality. Leona focused on the feeling of relief. The relief of knowing the prefect wouldn’t have to put so much effort into getting to his good sides. The relief that she won’t have anything to do with him after the handover. Relief that she can sleep peacefully every night, without him.

Without him.

Leona tried to focus on the feelings of relief.

Because the bitterness left on his mouth and the pang on his chest felt stronger. He didn’t think even her sleeping face could save him from that bitterness.

“Leona-saaan! Why won’t you say anything? Are you really going to just leave things like this?”

Ruggie once again tried. He stood up and sat in front of Leona. Eyebrows raised in confusion as he stared at the prince. Leona did not move, his eyes were closed. More like a sloth and less like a lion.

“Leonaaaa-saaaaaan!” Ruggie grabbed the untouched sandwich bag and cheered. Leona not minding. A deep and heavy sigh escaping him. “Stop nagging.”

“If you leave things lying around, people will take them.” Ruggie mumbled as he munched. Leona’s eyes were closed, but his one eyebrow rose in irritation.

His ears twitched as he listened to Ruggie.

To be continued....

Tagging: @ohno-otome @pseudofaux @shannie-writes ^ u ^

#Leona Kingscholar #Twisted Wonderland #Leona x Asami #Twisted Wonderland Leona #Onibeni

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2020 DCU Bang Summaries

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Summaries after the Read More

2020 Summaries

1 Title: Green (may be renamed) Word Count: 9961 Genre: Fandom/Universe: Batman - All Media Types Characters/Pairings: Damian Wayne, Tim Drake, Jason Todd - Tim Drake/Jason Todd/Damian Wayne, Tim Drake/Damian Wayne, Tim Drake/Jason Todd, Jason Todd/Damian Wayne, Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent (background), Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne (background) Warnings: Dubcon, non-consensual drug use Rating: Explicit Summary: Jason and Tim agree to coach Damian through trying weed for the first time. All is going well, until they realise they’ve been dealt Ivy-brand weed and inadvertently been dosed with sex pollen. Obviously, a threesome ensues.

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2 Title: Love and Other Four-Letter Words Word Count: 10.4k Genre: Angsty Romance Fandom/Universe: Green Lantern, Green Arrow, Birds of Prey Characters/Pairings: Hal Jordan / Dinah Lance / Oliver Queen Warnings: Angst (happy ending), violence, gun violence, drinking, threesome, polyamory, open marriage, emotional infidelity, swearing, depression, self-loathing, nasty past breakup Rating: E Summary: After yet another breakup with Carol, Hal and Ollie find themselves on a road trip across America. Along the way, Hal starts to realize he’s feeling a bit more than friendship for his best friend. The days pass, and the two grow closer, but all too soon the trip must come to an end. On Ollie’s insistence, Hal agrees to stay with him and Dinah in their Star City home. He easily falls into routine with them, but living under the same roof has caused his feelings to multiply tenfold. After a rejected kiss in the middle of the night, Hal has to finally figure out what it is he wants. Dinah, caught in the middle of the two, is forced to confront her own feelings on the situation, eventually making her thoughts known. After a mission turned sour and a near-miss, the three grow closer still, eventually developing a relationship with each other. The story is entirely in Hal’s POV and there is quite a fair bit of self-hatred.

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3 Title: The sky's gonna hurt when it falls Word Count: 12k Genre: Drama, Angst, "Romance" Fandom/Universe: Nightwing (comics), Batman (All Media Types), Heathers (All Media Types) Characters/Pairings: Jason Todd/Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson & Barbara Gordon, Dick Grayson & Catalina Flores. Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Catalina Flores, Harley Quinn, Crystal Frost, Barbara Gordon, Roman Sionis, Jack Napier. Warnings: graphic violence, suicide, bullying, violence in schools, underage drinking, parental neglect, homophobia, drug use, major character death, threats of non-con, underage sex Rating: M Summary: All Dick Grayson ever wanted to make Gotham High School a better place. So when queen bee Catalina invites him to be part of the most powerful and ruthless clique in school, he jumps at the chance to accept her invitation---after all, it's easy to change the system when you're the one making the rules. Things get complicated after the arrival of the dangerous new kid, JT, who urges Dick to bite the bullet and abandon high school politics before it's too late. But Dick can't help but feel that JT has another plan for the bullet... AKA the Heathers/Jaydick crossover no one asked for. This work is set in 1989 and contains excessive use of 80s slang. Like the movie and musical, themes of violence, suicide, homophobia, and bullying are present throughout. Situations of dubious consent and threats of non-con are mentioned but not in detail.

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4 Title: The Ghosts of Robins Past Word Count: 9,399 Genre: Action, casefic, drama, canon divergence Fandom/Universe: Batman Characters/Pairings: Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake, Alfred Pennyworth, Jack Drake, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd. Jason Todd/Dick Grayson Warnings: Kidnapping, mentions of torture Rating: PG-13 Summary: Bruce never planned or wanted to take on a third Robin. Dick seemingly vanished off the face of the earth at fourteen and Jason was murdered at fifteen. Thirteen-year-old Tim Drake came into his life while he grieved for Jason, insisting Bruce needed a Robin to keep him balanced. Against his better judgment, he accepted and began training Tim. Now, at fourteen, Tim’s more than earned the mantle of Robin and his place at Bruce’s side. But did Bruce make a terrible mistake in accepting him? If something should happen to Tim, could he handle another loss? Bruce hopes he won’t have to answer that question. Soon he has a new case on his hands. People are being killed with gold tipped knives with owl symbols on their hilts. Bruce believes the killer is mimicking the Court of Owls to scare Gothamites while Tim believes a Talon is responsible. Dismissing the claim, Bruce continues to fight Gotham’s crime while doing his best to keep Tim safe. Even the best intentions fail. After a wrist injury prompts Bruce to send Tim home early, Bruce is horrified to receive a call from Jack the next morning saying Tim is missing. Try as they might neither man can find Tim. And Tim at last discovers what happens to the long lost Dick Grayson: he was abducted by the Court of Owls and trained to be a Talon along with the resurrected Jason Todd. Now, they have their eyes set on him.

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5 Title: Cats and Devil Bats Word Count: ~5,900 Genre: Romance, Supernatural, Action Fandom/Universe: Batman (comics) Characters/Pairings: Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne Warnings: Noncon, graphic violence Rating: NC-17 Summary: Batman is a violent vigilante who stalks and kills criminals. When Catwoman finally runs into him, she fully expects to die. But she doesn’t. In fact, he seems to want something else entirely from her. Meanwhile, Selina Kyle meets the enigmatic and very wealthy Bruce Wayne and the two begin a relationship. What happens when their two lives finally cross? And what’s all this about a Bat demon anyway? Everything takes place in Gotham: on rooftops, Bruce Wayne’s penthouse, Selina Kyle’s apartment, Wayne Manor, and the caves beneath it. The noncon is Batman/Catwoman and occurs throughout. It’s not 100% handled well by either of them. Relatively graphic violence in the later chapters, but nothing permanent.

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6 Title: What I Know Now (subject to change) Word Count: 9k written, maybe 12k total Genre: Angst, fluff, adventure Fandom/Universe: DC Comics or Young Justice Characters/Pairings: Jason Todd/Dick Grayson, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne Warnings: None Rating: PG, T Summary: Set in a YJ timeline where Jason and Dick are only two years apart, Dick falls in love with Jason when they're younger only to be devastated when he dies. And although Jason comes back to life as normal, he instead stays with the League and becomes a brother figure to Damian. Eventually Damian is sent to live with his father, and as his new family begins to grow on him, he begins to tell them more and more of "Akhi," who sounds achingly familiar to Dick. This story is set mostly in Gotham, with a few scenes in Nanda Parbat in the middle when Jason and Damian are with the League. No major warnings besides the Jason/Dick relationship if that bothers you. Some swearing and descriptions of Jason's death and resurrection, but it is not in explicit detail.

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7 Title: To the Fairest Word Count: 18,000 written Genre: Mystery Fandom/Universe: Batman (comics) Characters/Pairings: Bruce Wayne/Zatanna, Bruce Wayne, Zatanna Zatara, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Kara Zor-El Warnings: canon level violence Rating: Teen Summary: The Queen of Fables has another tale to tell… In this thrilling mystery Zatanna, the Mistress of Magic, wow’s audiences while solving crimes with the help of her new sidekick: Batman. Co starring in this mystical mystery are the youngest world's finest trio: Robin, Robin, and Supergirl. Will they be able to return a Talon to his nest or will birds fly? Join us in Gotham city, Metropolis, a witch's sales outlet, and a creepy shake filled with sentient vines. No warnings need apply.

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8 Title: we could put some roots down Word Count: 14378 Genre: Fluff, Romance, Drama Fandom/Universe: DCU (pre-New-52), Nightwing, Deathstroke Characters/Pairings: Slade Wilson/Dick Grayson, Batam Warnings: family drama, Bruce Wayne’s A+ Parenting, mention of Catalina Flores Rating: PG-13/Teen Summary: A set of multiple vignettes that center on Dick and Slade as they interact with the other members of the Batfam as Tim and Bruce come home to act as a catalyst of change. Dick grapples with what Bruce’s return means for his time as Batman while Jason teases that his relationship with Slade might be moving to the next stage. Dick and Tim finally get closure and the ability to clear the air between them while engaging in a bit of brotherly bonding and teasing. As always, Alfred holds all the answers. The story takes place mainly on the grounds of Wayne Manor, in the Bat Cave, or inside the Manor itself. The timeframe of the story takes place over the course of a few weeks to a month.

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9 Title: Scarlet Tears Word Count: 12,857 Genre: Action/Adventure Fandom/Universe: The Flash Characters/Pairings: Barry Allen/Leonard Snart Warnings: mpreg Rating: Explicit Summary: Leonard Snart decided to take a break from the Legends, with Mick in tow. They head back to Central City, only to find Team Flash in a bit of trouble…well not the team just Barry. A young Meta causes trouble with her power exactly what is her deal?

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10 Title: The Date (or The Bargain, haven’t decided yet) Word Count: 6,040 Genre: drama, hurt/comfort Fandom/Universe: Batman, Red Robin, Ra’s al Ghul/League of Assassins Characters/Pairings: Tim Drake, Slade Wilson, Ra’s al Ghul, Kon-El/Conner Kent, Bruce Wayne. Ra’s/Tim pairing Warnings: Kidnapping Rating: PG Summary: After a long and exhausting week all Tim looks forward to is catching up on his sleep. Much to his surprise he wakes up not in his comfortable bed but handcuffed to a seat aboard Slade Wilson’s private jet. He soon discovers that Ra’s al Ghul paid Slade to kidnap him and deliver him into Ra’s’ care. Angry, Tim’s thinking of his escape when Ra’s presents him with a deal: if a member of his family contacts him in one week, Ra’s will leave Tim alone for six months. Tim accepts the deal. As days pass with radio silence from the Bats, Tim has to face the truth about how all of them have grown apart and they’ve done little to draw him back in. Is he better off staying with Ra’s despite their vastly different morals? Or does Bruce deserve a chance to prove himself?

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11 Title: When You Move, I Move Word Count: 9150 Genre: Fantasy, Action/Adventure Fandom/Universe: Batman, Nightwing, Red Hood and the Outlaws Characters/Pairings: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Catalina Flores, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne Warnings: Non-Con/Dub-Con (non-graphic) Rating: R Summary: Despite having been in love with one another since they were children, Crown Prince Richard and Dragon Slayer Jason are faced with the fact that they are bound by duty and law to never marry. King Bruce manages to come up with a plan that would allow the pair to remain close and for Richard to fulfill his duty as the future king. He proposes a marriage of convenience to a woman, Catalina of House Flores, who is on the brink of permanent maidenhood after having been passed over by too many men in the past. And though she was aware that the future king would never love her, Catalina grows bitter and jealous over the love between the two men and the love her and Richard’s son shares with that man. So she calls upon the help of a crone to curse both men to live this life and all future lives close to one another but never allowing them to be together. And though the crone grants the curse she places a contingency: if one of them were to die before their 18th birthday then the curse would be lifted and they would be reunited to share the love they have been denied. When Dick and Jason come into contact with the god Fate in their current life, the pair are made aware of what had been stolen from them decades in the past and shown that because of Jason’s untimely death at the age of 15, the curse has been lifted. And Jason is finally given the answer as to why he was awoken in his grave all those years prior. With the truth laid out before them, the pair must figure out what it means for them in this lifetime and all future ones.

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12 Title: The Sorrows Of Healing Word Count: 18k of 20-22k written Genre: Slice Of Life, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Character-centric Fandom/Universe: Batman - All Media Types, Batman (Comics), AU from Battle of the Cowl Characters/Pairings: Dick Grayson & Tim Drake, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Alfred Pennyworth - Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne, Tim Drake Warnings: Off-Screen Character Death, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts and Intentions, Racism, Past/Referenced Child Abuse, Hospitals and Therapy Rating: M Summary: It was Dick who had taken up the Cowl after Bruce had died. It was Dick who had become Batman, taking Damian, Tim, and Alfred with him to the penthouse for a fresh start. But things could never be that easy. All of them were haunted by sorrow: Tim not capable of believing that his second father was gone as well, Dick almost breaking under the pressure of standing tall in the face of a crisis, Damian uncomfortable and lost in these unfamiliar waters he was forced to navigate, and Alfred mourning yet another child. In a world in which Bruce actually died, becoming a family again is harder than some might think. In the midst of fights, the racist white Gotham High Society, and Tim, who fled the nest in a last attempt to resurrect something that no longer exists, it is hard to find hope, and yet all of them somehow manage to do so anyways. The story mostly takes place in their Gotham City penthouse, a ballroom, a Baghdad hospital room, and the graveyard. This is a story of healing - but also about the growing pains along the way - so be aware that Tim and Dick deal with depression (Tim with suicidal thoughts and intentions as well), that Damian and Dick face racism, that Damian's childhood will be referenced as the unpretty mess that is was, and that Bruce will not return. His children will have to learn how to fly on their own.

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13 Title: since you’ve been gone (I can breathe for the first time) Word Count: 9,134 Genre: whump, hurt/comfort Fandom/Universe: Batfamily comics (mostly preboot canon with occasional elements of New 52 & Reboot canons) Characters/Pairings: Tim Drake, Batfamily, implied one-sided Tim Drake/Ra’s al-Ghul Warnings: Body horror, depression, child abuse, body modification (consensual and non-consensual), terminal illness, child death, substance abuse (harmful self-medication). Rating: Mature Summary: A study of Tim Drake and his experiences with Hanahaki (specifically, familial Hanahaki), mostly following comics canon with a few changes. Starts when Tim is a child (pre-Robin). He befriends the Gotham Sirens after seeking out Poison Ivy to obtain a growth stopper for his Hanahaki, and later befriends Jason-as-Robin. After Jason’s death and Tim’s parents find out about his Hanahaki, Tim seeks out Batman and becomes Robin. Eventually, after he starts spending time with Bruce, his Hanahaki fades. Years later, following the events of Red Robin and Tim’s distancing from the family, it returns with a vengeance. This story is primarily set in Gotham (at Wayne and Drake manors and the Batcave in particular), with scenes in Iceland (including a glacier) and other locations around the world. Being a Hanahaki fic, the story does contain quite a bit of body horror and terminal illness. The depression occurs throughout due to the Hanahaki & events of Red Robin, as does the body modification (in reference to forced surgery and growth-stopping drugs Tim takes (also the substance abuse tag).). Child abuse is neglect on the part of Tim’s parents, and correlates to the non-consensual body modification tag. Child death is Jason Todd’s canon death.

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14 Title: Forging Friendship Word Count: 4k Genre: Action/Adventure Fandom/Universe: Young Justice Characters/Pairings: Roy Harper, Kaldur’ahm, Black Manta Warnings: None Rating: PG-13 Summary: Green Arrow takes Speedy on a mission at the Star City Wharf with Aquaman and the new to the surface Aqualad. When the mentors give them a solo task, Speedy is very unsure about working with the new hero and tries to only focus on his mission. However, the mission goes wrong, forcing Speedy to risk his life, and face his fears, to save Aqualad. This story takes place primarily at night at a warehouse near the ocean. However actions scenes take place inside the warehouse with lots of crates that create a maze effect, and at the end of the story they’re all on fire.

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15 Title: (Better Things to do than) Chasing White Rabbits Word Count: 4k of what will likely be 6k Genre: Romcom and action/adventure Fandom/Universe: DC, Pacific Rim Characters/Pairings: Slade Wilson/Dick Grayson Warnings: violence, swearing, slurs (Gipsy Danger is the canon name of a jaeger), overprotective parent Bruce Wayne, sexual innuendo, secret identities, Slade's canonical bad parenting (but at least he's trying to work on that), accidental relationship, family drama, frenemies to lovers Rating: Explicit just in case, though I don't think sex will happen until the next installment in the series Summary: Rumor has it that Dick Grayson can drift with anyone. Slade Wilson has the opposite problem, and kids. Killing kaiju may be easier than parenting, and that's with Grayson playing mediator when he inevitably messes up. Dick, meanwhile, is tired of Bruce overstepping boundaries, and Slade just offered him a chance to help a villain redeem himself while also rubbing B's nose in the fact that clinging so tightly is more likely to drive all his kids away than make anyone want to stay. Even Nightwing has a rep for cheerful spite. Stacker Pentecost is too tired for this; he's got a daughter pushing to join the program, said program to run, and the Becket brothers are enough of a headache. That said, if an internationally wanted mercenary is truly willing to join the program, he'll welcome Deathstroke. He just doesn't want to lose Grayson in the process, or the Wayne family funding for the program. Jason, meanwhile, wins Best Brother accolades, and not just for donning Nightwing while Dick pilots giant robots.

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16 Title: in reverse, tragedy Word Count: ~12k Genre: Drama, Action Fandom/Universe: Batman, no specific canon Characters/Pairings: No Pairings, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Talia al Ghul Warnings: Dehumanization of Talons, Canon-Typical Violence, Decapitation Rating: PG Summary: Around two years after Batman fires Robin and Jason Todd (AKA Batboy) returns from an interstellar mission to find his sort of little brother missing, Talia al Ghul's jet touches down in Gotham. Her objective? Take revenge on the Court of Owls, the secret society hidden under Gotham that ordered Ra's al Ghul's death at the hands of a Talon, one of their personal assassins. During her mission, Talia is once again confronted by the Talon she fought when defending her father. After an intense battle in the Court's underground labyrinth, Talia defeats the Talon. As she unmasks him, she realizes that this Talon is the key to answering a question that has plagued even the Batman: what happened to Dick Grayson? (Sort of a Reverse Robins story, but more accurately a Mix-'Em-Up Robins story.)

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17 Title: bury the dead where they're found Word Count: 8K-ish Genre: Action Fandom/Universe: Batman (Comics) Characters/Pairings: Dick/Koriand'r, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Slade Wilson, Gotham Rogues Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Murder Rating: PG-13 Summary: After returning to Earth and discovering his little brother is dead, Dick Grayson finds himself questioning how heroic Batman's "No Kill" rule truly is. Faced with Bruce's temper and the disrespectful ways Bruce has chosen to honor Jason, Dick decides it's time to take matters into his own hands, and makes a plan to remove the threat of the Gotham Rogues once and for all. Jason Todd, freshly back from the dead, doesn't understand what happened when he looks at the news in Gotham and sees that the Joker is dead. Determined to figure it out, he leaves Talia and makes his way back to the city that led to his death, only to learn from a strange source the truth of what went on while he was away. This story takes place in various locations, including the batcave, an apartment, Arkham Asylum, and the streets of Gotham.

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18 Title: Coffee Shop Love Word Count: 7,494 Genre: Fluff, Romance, Crossover, Alternate Canon Fandom/Universe: DC Comics/MCU Characters/Pairings: Dick Grayson/Tim Drake/James "Bucky" Barnes, Owens/Pru/Z, Conner, Cassie, Bruce/Diana, Bart, Cassie/Cass, Jason/Roy/Kory Warnings: None Rating: PG-13 Summary: Five years ago, Tim Drake saved Bruce and walked away from his so-called family and with Owens, Z, Pru and Bucky Barnes the Winter Solider and started up a small coffee shop with only Conner, Cass, Bart, Cassie and Alfred knowing where he is. Tim was happy until the day the Bats and the Avengers found him. Dick has never forgiven himself for driving away Tim, he longs to make things right with him, even if they never become anything but brothers but those plans are derailed when it comes clear to him that James "Bucky" Barnes has more than friendly feelings for Tim. Soon it becomes Dick vs. Bucky for Tim's heart. Tim just wishes that they would have asked him first.

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19 Title: Against His Heart Word Count: 6,566 Genre: Angst, PWP, rape recovery, happy/hopeful ending Fandom/Universe: DCU, no particular canon Characters/Pairings: Dick Grayson/Roy Harper Warnings: Past rape/noncon, slut-shaming, consensual nonconsent Rating: NC-17 Summary: The morning after Dick Grayson learns that Tarantula has died in prison, he gets on a train. Somehow he ends up at Roy's place. Nobody knows about everything that happened with Tarantula; even Dick forgets parts of it. He wishes he could erase everyone who'd ever touched him, even if that would erase Roy, so that Roy could touch him anew. They decide to pretend, and play out a situation where Dick is a virgin. A few awkward hiccups and a whole lot of feelings come out. It makes Dick realize something he wants--something he needs, maybe. He wants to pretend to struggle and say no and for Roy to keep going. They pick a safeword, Dick promises to use it, and so he does. Most of the scenes will take place in Roy's apartment which is somewhere in south New Jersey. It's not an AU (i.e. they are superheros), but they're out of uniform for the story. This is definitely a PWP, with a focus on sexual trauma, beginning to heal from trauma, and hints of a burgeoning DickRoy romance. There are no flashbacks to rape, but there are mentions of it throughout, including Dick's feelings towards his own body and his thoughts during sex with Roy. For a majority of the fic, Roy believes that Dick's relationship with Tarantula was fully consensual, before Dick ends up telling him that it wasn't. Dick is a trans man, and Roy is a cis man.

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20 Title: Stay Awake With Me Word Count: 10,738 of 40k Genre: Mystery, Case-fic Fandom/Universe: Court of Owls (comics) Characters/Pairings: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne Warnings: Major Character Death, Violence Rating: NC-17 Summary: When Dick goes missing, the family works together to try and find him. When Bruce goes missing, the mystery only begins to show itself. In an investigation which will span decades, Clark must work together with the remaining members of the Batfamily to unravel the secrets of Gotham's underbelly, and not only stop the Court of Owls in their bid for power, but to also catch Talon!Bruce and Talon!Dick. The fic will explore two timelines: the 'present' timeline which deals with the court of owls plot and a 'past' timeline that explores Clark's role in the batfamily.

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21 Title: The Maiden in the Tower Word Count: 6k complete so far, looking to be around 10-11k total. Genre: Urban Fantasy, Romantic Comedy, light Drama Fandom/Universe: primarily the pre-Flashpoint DC canon, though that’s more of a guideline than a hard rule. Characters/Pairings: Everyone Loves Tim Drake, ultimately Dick/Tim; Klarion the Witch Boy, Bruce, Barbara, Cass, Cassie, Kon and Bart all have prominent roles. Featuring cameos from as much of the DCU as I can fit in before the deadline, primarily Titans and Young Justice. Warnings: Low-key canon-typical violence and a ‘happily ever after’ kiss for two (full-grown) adopted brothers. Swearing. A few people get made the butt of jokes but it’s nothing too mean-spirited. Rating: PG-13 (technically R for swearing but content-wise it’s strictly PG-13) Summary: Klarion’s idea of the perfect birthday present is to trap Tim in the highest room (Bruce’s office) of the tallest tower in Gotham (Wayne Enterprises) and flood the rest of the building with a mix of living vines and fairy tale obstacles that can only be overcome by Tim’s true love. Shenanigans ensue as half the superhero community competes for the hand of the fair maid Red Robin. Pay-off is Dick/Tim but the lion's share of the page time is spent watching people fight fairytale tropes while Tim and Klarion snark with popcorn. Light-hearted comedy in which some characters get made to look the fool, ultimately gets no sexier than a True Love’s Ending Kiss. Set entirely within a vine-infested, magically-warped Wayne Tower with everyone from the Bats to the Titans to Tim’s civilian friends dealing with fairytale nonsense: glass mountains, living office supplies, pixies swarms, catching the cat who has the key to the next floor, etc. Meanwhile Tim hangs out in the penthouse with Klarion and a pint of ice cream watching the event like a reality show and getting dunked on for being an archetypal Disney Princess. Fun times for all with a light sprinkling of angst for flavor.

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22 Title: The Antecedents to Reunion Word Count: 13,500 (out of approx. 20k) Genre: Steampunk AU, slice of life, case fic Fandom/Universe: Batman comics, drawing heavily from the Court of Owls storyline and Cass's Batgirl run Characters/Pairings: Cassandra Cain/Stephanie Brown (preslash), Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson Warnings: non-canonical limb loss, temporary character death, fake character death, grief/mourning, implied brainwashing, past child abuse, drug use in an interrogation by a minor character Rating: PG-13/Teen Summary: In a verison of Gotham that never existed, a version of Gotham where clockwork and steam bring the city through the night, Dick Grayson is believed to be dead, and Cassandra Wayne has just returned from Hong Kong. But as Cass settles back into the city, she quickly discovers that something-- or someone-- is trying to get her attention, and that the clock is ticking on how much time she has to figure it out. This is very much a "slice-of-life" fic, except it's set in a Steampunk AU. This story is set mostly in Gotham, with there being one flashback scene to Cass’s apartment in Hong Kong. In Gotham, characters go to the manor, a gala, an ice cream parlor, and the Iceberg Lounge. There is also a fight scene in Robinson Park against Poison Ivy, in a villain’s apartment against droids, and a brief chase scene across rooftops. The plot with the Court of Owls is fairly in the background of this fic, as the real focus is Cass, her relationships with the other bats, and the intricacies of mourning. This story has a hopeful ending, in that it ends with Cass discovering that Dick is alive, but the actual reunion is left to the reader’s imagination.

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23 Title: With Blood and Rage of Crimson Red Word Count: 6,968 Genre: Angst, Action/Adventure Fandom/Universe: DCU, Batfam, Lantern Corps Characters/Pairings: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Hal Jordan, Guy Gardener, John Stewart, Bleez, Rankorr, no pairings (however, I might include hints of Batlantern (HalxBruce) later) Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, mentions of past underage attempted rape, mentions of past drug use, mentions of past child abuse Rating: PG-13 Summary: Jason was only 11 when his life was irreversibly changed. Now the newest member of the Red Lantern Corps, he is immediately thrust into a dangerous game where losing could mean death. With practically half the villains in the universe after him and the rest of the Lantern Corps, Jason must watch his step at every corner. To overcome this threat and find a way to save himself and the people he cares for, Jason must first overcome his own inner demons and learn to trust himself and the people around him. This story is set on multiple planets throughout the DC Universe. On Earth, we see Gotham City, the Batcave, and the Watchtower, in space, they travel to Ysmault and other planets that I made up for the purpose fo the fic (so you will have mostly free reign with the design of those planets if you choose to draw scenes involving them). This story involves canon-typical violence throughout. At the start, there are mentions of child abuse, and there is camera footage shown of attempted rape of a minor, but nothing explicit. At the start of the story, Catherine Todd is found by Jason post-OD and that is mentioned a few times throughout the story. The abuse and attempted rape are mentioned a little throughout the story, but not much, as it is not the focus, rather a back story for Jason. Other than that, there is no smut, or even pairings (unless I decide to do the Batlantern, but that will be a minor background pairing). There might be some language, but it is kept to a minimum.

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24 Title: You Have Their Eyes (But You'll Never Have Their Smile) Word Count: 6,679 Genre: Action/Adventure, Mystery, Angst Fandom/Universe: DCU, Justice League Characters/Pairings: Jason Todd, Kyle Rayner, Donna Troy, Chris Kent, Lorena Marquez, Connor Hawke, possibly Jaykyle Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Mentions of Past Character Death, might have some minor language Rating: PG-13 Summary: Eight years ago, the Justice League vanished into thin air. Since then, their proteges have been left behind to pick up the pieces of a broken world. Struggling to fill shoes that don't quite fit, the next generation of the Justice League is faced with their pasts as an old case makes a reappearance, eight years after the original Justice League closed it. This is set on Earth, in various locations like Wayne Enterprises, the Watchtower, the Whitehouse, Los Angeles, Malaysia, and Atlantis. As stated before, violence is a part of this fic, but nothing more than you would normally see in canon. Past character deaths are mentioned, including Jason's temporary death, and the supposed deaths of the original Justice League. There is cussing, but only like two or three words in the entire fic. There are also mentions of a court stripping away Donna's parental rights to Terry.

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25 Title: Heavy the Head Word Count: 4k~ Genre: Greek Gods AU Fandom/Universe: No specific canon Characters/Pairings: Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, assorted batfamily characters Warnings: No real warnings; there's some smut at one point in the fic Rating: NC-17 (overall it's rather tame, but some smut) Summary: Slade is an old nature god, one rather bored with the politics of Olympus. He is, however, rather fascinated by the reserved god of the dead Richard, remembering how different the boy was back when he truly was just a boy. He's always like oddities and figuring out puzzles, and Richard certainly is one at that. Dick would really prefer that everyone leave him alone to do the job he was assigned a millenia ago. Visiting Olympus brings him no peace, not when he knows he'll have to leave again soon, not to see his family for another century or so. Of course, there's always Slade, who's happy to give more than Dick is usually comfortable accepting. Not that that ends up being a bad thing. This story takes place in Mount Olympus, at a waterfall, and in the Underworld.

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26 Title: Hearts Beating Side by Side Word Count: 3,600 Genre: Romance, Drama Fandom/Universe: Young Justice Verse Characters/Pairings: Garth - Tempest/Kaldur'ahm/Dick Grayson Warnings: Threesome, misunderstanding, pining, dirty talk Rating: Summary: On the precipice of changes in their lives, Garth and Kaldur find a momentary reunion and the repressed childhood love that they have both harbored for the other is reignited. But the weekend won't be an easy fall into long awaited love. Nightwing has reappeared after months of silence in the guise of his civilian persona, Dickie Wayne-Grayson. And even though he's playing the part of full-time playboy, Garth can see the spark that Dick lights within Kaldur. And it's not a one-sided feeling. A weekend of diplomacy is consumed by Garth and Dick's competing jealousy; each believing Kaldur has eyes for the other. Garth thinks Dick is leading Kaldur on, and Dick thinks Garth has won Kaldur's heart before the weekend even began. They bicker, and banter, until they Bang It Out. When Kaldur catches them, there's guilt, and confessions and polyamorous negotiations.

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27 Title: hold onto the fire even if you have to burn Word Count: ~7k Genre: Angst with a happy ending Fandom/Universe: DCU (specifically Batfam) and post-Underworld Unleashed Characters: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Zatanna Zatara, John Constantine, Donna Troy Pairings: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd (endgame), Dick Grayson/John Constantine/Zatanna (temporary) Warnings: Threesome, rape/non-con mentioned, self-harm (through magic), depression, lack of self-worth, explicit content, graphic violence, temporary major character deaths. Rating: NC-17 Summary: Dick Grayson is no Batman. After Bruce Wayne refuses to resurrect the late Jason Todd, Dick takes matters into his own hands. Armed with the knowledge of a deal that didn't go through, Dick allies himself with Zatanna and Constantine in a bid to right the wrong that Bruce ignores -- even though souls come at a cost. Dick knows he's strong enough to take the pain to save Jason. But can he stop at Jason? Can he let his fallen friends and family stay dead? Dick is determined to save everyone he can, even if it means losing his soul. The story takes place in multiple locations, primarily in Gotham and Neron's throne room in Hell, with occasional switches to Bludhaven. Rape/non-con refers to past instances (Dick/Mirage, Dick/Catalina) that are discussed at length. Threesome takes place as part of a magic ritual. Self-harm is heavily implied through self-sacrificial actions and reckless behavior (as well as the literal deals with a devil). Graphic violence will be canon-typical. Deaths are canonical deaths and happen offscreen (with the exception of Donna Troy and Damian Wayne who die in front of Dick and are described vividly). There's an alternative ending that includes Dick Grayson dying, but that's only one of two endings that will both be written.

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28 Title: The Deepest Secret Nobody Knows Word Count: ~6500 written (~15000 total) Genre: Romance Fandom/Universe: General DCU, Batman, Green Lantern Characters/Pairings: Bruce Wayne/Hal Jordan Warnings: Unintentional Exhibitionalism, characters/relationship being outed without their consent Rating: Explicit/NC-17 Summary: Hal and Bruce have been fucking for a full year, but have only been in an acknowledged relationship for six months. A jealous co-worker, who will stop at nothing to destroy Bruce Wayne, has a private romantic encounter between Bruce and Hal taped, then releases photos of the encounter to the press. Hal now finds himself thrust into a part of Bruce's life that he'd only had a vague impression of previously. While he believes that his and Bruce's relationship is solid, he's still left wondering if this will prove to be too much trouble to bother with, for himself, for Bruce, and for Bruce's family. Takes place primarily in Gotham (WEI offices, the Batcave, and the manor), with minor placement on the Watchtower, in Hal's apartment in Coast City, and varying Bruce boltholes around Earth. No serious warnings, other than semi-graphic/graphic sex.

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29 Title: In the Shadow of the Empire Word Count: About 12 or 13k, just under 9k written Genre: SciFi, Action/Adventure Fandom/Universe: Batman (though no particular canon), Star Wars AU Characters/Pairings: JayDick, JayTim, implied DickTim, pre-DickTimJay, Cass, Steph Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence, dub con Rating: NC-17 Summary: For most of the galaxy, life under the Empire's thumb was difficult, stressful, and painfully short. Dick and Jason knew this all too well, trying to keep their rustbucket of a ship in one piece while living job to job on the fringes of the Empire's control. It was a hard life, but as an ex-Jedi and a so-called 'troublemaker' wanted in multiple Empire systems, they didn't have much choice. But when a job goes wrong, they and their crew find themselves on the run from the Hand of the Emperor; a masked dark side user who is as feared as his origins are mysterious... and who is much more involved in Dick and Jason's past than either of them could guess. This story exists within a Star Wars setting, roughly around the time of the Original Trilogy. Scenes take place aboard Jason's ship, on a derelict Republic cruiser (i.e. no lights and without atmosphere or gravity), and on a small, heavily forested moon where the showdown happens between the ship's crew (Dick, Jason, Cass, and Steph) and Dark Side!Tim. The graphic violence is to the tune of blaster and lightsaber wounds. The dub-con occurs when Jason drunkenly sleeps with a stranger at a bar, who later is implied to be Dark Side!Tim undercover. This counts as dub-con because Tim is actively concealing his identity to get information out of Jason and because Jason would likely not have slept with him if he knew who he was and what he was doing.

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30 Title: There Be Dragons Word Count: 6425 words Genre: Urban Fantasy, Dragons Fandom/Universe: Batman Characters/Pairings: JayDick Warnings: Descriptions of burning buildings, violence, some gore Rating: M Summary: In Gotham, there be dragons. A pureblood dragon, Bruce revolved his vigilante persona around his ancestry, to become, Dragonman. Dick’s dragonhood was a direct result of Bruce’s ingenious DNA bonding–a gift he now refuses to use. For a moment in his life, however, he tolerated it, for Jason. Then Jason died. For six months, as far as Dick and Bludhaven was concerned, there were no goddamn dragons. Then one night, fire licked the sky. No matter how fast Dick ran, swung and flew, it was too damn late. A casino was razed to the ground. Human bodies stacked in piles. The shadow of a red dragon’s wings flapped in a distance. There was no question, however impossible, who did it. Dick couldn’t believe it. Dick wouldn’t believe it. This dragon flew around in Dick’s city on a raging warpath, knowing more than he was letting on. Dick intended to find it, and stop it.

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31 Title: When the Winds are Howling Strong Word Count: 3040 Genre: Found family, omegaverse, no capes AU Fandom/Universe: Batfam, Red Hood and the Outlaws Characters/Pairings: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson Warnings: Implied non graphic rape, intersex omegas, severe misogyny against omegas. Dick is a cop but he’s on leave through 90% of the fic Rating: PG-13/Teen. Nothing is graphic, but the topics are heavy Summary: Dick signed up to be a foster alpha, but never expected that he would actually be given an omega. Then Gorden’s men find an gang’s omega in heat and in bad shape. Since most foster alphas are searching for a mate, Dick is given custody over the omega. Jason was pulled off the streets by Joker’s gang when he was fifteen and life’s only gotten worse from there. As a gang omega, Jason served mostly as a form of recreation for the other gang members. After four years in hell, Jason’s given up all hope of escape. He’s got a new alpha who seems decent, but past experience has taught him those are the worst ones. Found family is the core of this fic. Dick helps Jason with his reintroduction into society/introduction to Gotham’s high society and both are forced to confront their internalized prejudices against other castes. It’s set in Gotham and explores both the slums and the glitzier districts. Jason and other male omegas will be depicted as wearing more feminine styles, including dresses and skirts. Key scenes: Dick taking custody of Jason, Dick and Jason growing used to each other, Tim and Damian meeting Jason by accident, Jason dumping out all of Dick’s liquor cabinet, Dick taking Jason shopping, Jason meeting Bruce and Alfred, Dick takes Jason to a gala and they work through a meltdown, Jason shows Dick where he used to live before Penguin and Joker, Dick and Jason fight after finding out everything Jason did in the gangs, Sheila makes an appearance, Jason is induced into an artificial heat, Dick and Bruce find Jason who is already making progress to rescue himself, End by Jason cutting the ribbon to an omega shelter.

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32 Title: Midnight Rendezvous Word Count: 4000+ Genre: PWP, Drama Fandom/Universe: Batman, Nightwing/Grayson Characters/Pairings: Midnighter/Dick Grayson, Bruce/Dick Grayson Warnings: Explicit sex, References to violence, Maybe unsafe sex Rating: NC-17 Summary: Dick is tired of the Golden Boy act. Tired of waiting for Bruce’s approval. And he’s beyond tired of not being noticed... So tonight, he’s going to find someone one who will.

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33 Title: crowns of violets and roses Word Count: 3009 Genre: Romance, Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology Fandom/Universe: Batman - All Media Types Characters/Pairings: Bruce Wayne/Jason Todd Warnings: Attempted non con, swearing, descriptions of violence Rating: Explicit (NC-17) Summary: Modern Hades & Persephone AU. After Bruce Wayne’s parents die, he becomes lord of the underworld, leaving the seasons and harvest unattended. Replacing him are the two Robins, Dick and Jason, spirits of spring and growth, but neither is able to fully step into the Waynes’ empty mantle. Things are further complicated when Dick wants to move on to a new role and Jason’s propositioned by another god. Bruce pulls Jason into the underworld, offering him sanctuary from the threats above. In the shadows, Jason finds both his strength and love. But without the work of both Robins, the land crumbles, threatening the lives of mortals and the power of the gods. The only solution is for Jason to return, unless Bruce is able to out think their enemies. The setting for this story is largely modern with stylized elements from different periods (gothic, art deco). The Underworld, which is the primary setting, is heavily influenced by Wayne Manor and the Cave from comics and the animated series. Other places can have a more Gotham art deco influence.

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34 Title: Bruce Wayne, the Court of… Word Count: 4035 Genre: AU, humor, fluff, angst Fandom/Universe: Batman comics, Nightwing comics, Red Hood and the Outlaws comics, Batman: Under the Red Hood Characters/Pairings: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne Warnings: rape, death, beating, abuse, violence, spoilers for: Forever Evil arc, Court of Owls arc, recent Nightwing comic arc, recent Batman comic arc, Red Hood and the Outlaws #25, Batman and Red Hood #20 Rating: T/Teen And Up Audiences /PG14+ Summary: Bruce had made many mistakes in his life. The most horrifying and disastrous were the ones involving his family. The way he treated them, deceived, hurt and used finally blew in his face and he had to face the consequences. There was no forgiveness for him now, not from any of them. But maybe there was a way to avoid it all. This story is meant as a fix-it to all the mess the canon turned into. While the story focuses on talking about canonical events there are a lot of headcanon/fanon/tropes put into it as well ie. romantic relationship between adopted brothers. And although the topics discussed are serious matters the fic itself is slightly crackish. The story takes place in Gotham during the Batman: Under the Red Hood events. At first the action is placed all over the city: rooftops, docks, parking lot, train station; for it to narrow down to an abandoned hotel room.

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35 Title: Do You Love The Summer Like I Do? Word Count: 6116 words Genre: Romance, Action Fandom/Universe: Batman, Red Hood and the Outlaws Characters/Pairings: JayRoy Warnings: Descriptions of physical trauma, healing from injuries, violence, some gore Rating: M Summary: Those hazy nights spent blinking in and out of consciousness, events of Bruce cracking his hood open like an egg replaying like a neverending nightmare. Waking up to a stuffy bed, IV drips and the simmering heat. Roy’s dumb, handsome face hovering worriedly beside him. For those months of grueling physical therapy, Jason could depend on one thing to keep him going--Roy’ love. Jason would have put any grand plans of his to a screeching halt, if Roy asked him to stay on that island forever. But he had therapy to go to. Jason could respect that. Then, Roy died. And Jason missed the funeral. But unlike every other piece of shit who dared to call themselves Roy’s friends, Jason wasn’t about to let him lie. And he had a way of bringing him back.

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unrestedjade · 4 years

Note

fic writing meme: 1, 12, 17, 18, 21

Oh dang, that’s a lot! Think I’ll put this behind a cut to spare everyone’s dash.

1. The first fandom I wrote and posted for was Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time. But! Somewhere in a landfill is a notebook with a very overwrought Animorphs fic about Ax falling in love with my very cool, original-character-donut-steel alien bat-centaur who can tell the future. Every day I thank the universe for not letting my family have internet access until I was 14. Actually, maybe the universe should have held out longer, but you can peep the cringe for yourself over here: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/173909/Fortuna

Yes, that is my old ff.net profile. My only regret is that I didn’t get a chance to back up my ask fics before the site suddenly decided to make a rule banning them and deleted them all. (Me, still salty over that 15 years later? Why, yes actually.)

12. A trope I haven’t tried yet but really want to? It’s hard to narrow it down; there’s a lot of “cliche” fanfic tropes I never let myself write that I want to indulge in this year. I’m thinking about finding one of those bingo cards to use or something. But since I grew up sneaking my mom’s romance novels, I think an arranged marriage would be fun to try if I have to pick just one.

17. The fic I’m most proud of should come as no surprise, lol. I still can’t believe I finished something as long and plotty as finaglc. Would love to manage it again someday. :’)

18. Line/scene dvd commentary: okay okay okay! So there’s this more-or-less abandoned DaphGan Legend of Zelda fic I was writing back in the day, that was just a loose serious of vignettes in chronological order. I had ideas for like 20 chapters and fizzled out because it turns out only about three people on the whole earth give a shit about DaphGan and I can’t write in a complete void of feedback. Anyway, I researched medieval boar hunting techniques because I desperately wanted an action scene culminating in a ~bad omen~ and here it is, so scroll by if you just want to see the last question in the batch:

Within minutes, they were deep enough that the forest canopy closed above them, far above Ganondorf’s head. In the cool and the dim, and with the rustling of leaves in the breeze overhead sounding almost like waves, Ganondorf felt as though he were at the bottom of a great, ancient lake. Mist lay in a thick blanket on the ground as high as the smaller horses’ barrels, and a carpet of dead leaves and needles deadened the sounds of their movement. The hunters had fallen silent. About that, he had no complaints.

(I recall being inordinately fond of the underwater imagery, because I’d been struggling for how to conceptualize a thick forest for a person who’s spent most of his life in the open desert.)

Save for ferns and scattered herbs, there was little in the way of troublesome plants or low branches beyond the border of the forest, and Ganondorf realized that King Daphnes’ suggestion the day before had, in truth, been polite censure of his clothing rather than any practical concern. He frowned, and put the thought aside. It did not matter.

(I was not at all subtle about the Hylians picking at the Gerudo envoy’s appearances, which I think I could handle a little better now, but alas...)

He thought instead on the many sounds surrounding them, his ears straining to hear every one. There was birdsong, in patterns and notes he had never heard. Small creatures rustled in the trees. Water gurgled somewhere out of view. The woods were full of life in every direction, and Ganondorf quietly marvelled at its richness.

All of this, for the sport of one family?

(This piece of writing is old enough that I was still using the now-defunct “two spaces after a period” rule, wow. Also, hello there, years-old misspelling. :/)

They kept to a walking pace for an hour or two, hushed but alert. The dogs picked up a scent, the party wheeling around to follow after them. Ganondorf rode alongside King Daphnes. The man’s eyes were alight as he looked down the deer trail ahead of the dogs; a small smile of anticipation grew on his face. "They have something, eh?” he said, in a whisper. “What did I tell you!”

The lead dog threw its head back, baying. It launched itself forward and the rest of the pack followed suit, tails held high like flags.

An enormous boar, all sinewy muscle and bristled hide, burst from a nearby thicket and was driven ahead of them.

“Aha!" The king spurred his horse to a gallop, the rest of the party just behind. Ganondorf quickly found himself bringing up the rear.

The stallion seemed to find this as unacceptable as he did, for without his urging it picked up speed, long strides eating up the ground until the pair were level with the king once more.

(This bit started with the rest of the hunting party giving G-dawg mad shit for insisting on riding his stallion instead of a more appropriate horse, so I had to vindicate him, of course.)

Ganondorf’s eyes were now fixed on the boar. He crouched low over the stallion’s neck, free hand fisted in the tangles of its mane. They pulled ahead to run with the dogs, until even the dogs were falling behind them.

"Stay with it!" The king’s bellow carried over the thunder of the stallion’s hooves. "Keep running it!”

They ran. The boar was fast and nimble, leading a chase through dense copses and over fast-flowing streams. The world fell away until all that remained was the path they weaved through the trees, the rolling strength of the horse beneath him, the forest rushing by in a blur of green and loamy brown, and the boar.

Ganondorf laughed like a child, his heart light for first time since he’d come to this impossibly green land.

The chase ended when the boar made to leap over a fallen log and could not clear it, tumbling end over end. The beast scrambled to its hooves, brandishing its long tusks. It had reached the point of exhaustion, steam rising from its hide, muscles quivering with exertion. It could run no longer.

Ganondorf held it at bay, keeping the point of his spear trained on it. He did not wish to incite it to charge and risk his horse. He simply looked at it, watching the boar watch him with wide, red eyes. Foam gathered at its mouth, and he wondered whether it would die where it stood, if its heart had burst in its chest.

The baying of the dogs was not far off. The hunters were closing in.

(Still a little puffed up over the juxtaposition of hunting being legitimately thrilling but cruel. Catch my bro getting swept up in the excitement.)

“Excellent work!" Daphnes was at the head of the party, as he had been to start. "Oh, well done, man!”

As the dogs circled, barking and snapping, the boar stood its ground, head lowered. It made a few feints at the dogs foolish enough to attack, but as the hunters closed in it had less and less room to manoeuvre. Ganondorf could see it rallying for a final effort, weariness flowing into terror and rage.

It roared, lunging, scattering the dogs. Blood streaked its tusks. A horse reared when its leg was cut by sharp hooves. For a moment, it looked to Ganondorf as though it might break away again and escape.

In one practiced motion, Daphnes leapt from his horse and sunk his spear deep into the boar’s side.

Ganondorf’s racing heart froze. Pain keener than any he had ever felt lanced through him, choking him on a silent cry. He clutched at his chest, groping for the spear-head that wasn’t there. His own spear fell from numb fingers to the forest floor. Terror and agony, all-encompassing, swept over him in a crushing wave.

None of the other hunters noticed his distress. All eyes were locked on their king’s struggle with the beast. The boar screamed, running against the spear as if it would happily run the length of it to reach Daphnes with its final breath. The cross-tree of the spear and the strength of the man wielding it kept the boar’s tusks far from its target, however, and for every drop of blood that spilled from its side a portion of its strength bled away with it.

After what felt far too long, the boar collapsed. It’s screams had faded to rattling breaths, and when Daphnes stepped forward, knife drawn, it did not resist.

It was on Ganondorf that its red eyes rested when its throat was cut, in some mute accusation or seeking solace, he could not say. The pain in his chest receded when the final gout of blood ran out onto the dark earth. By the time Daphnes stood from his task, wiping his hands and blade clean on a rag, Ganondorf might have believed that the pain had been a trick of his imagination.

(This thing with the dead boar was meant to keep coming up in small ways throughout the rest of the vignettes as a harbinger of G-dawg’s ultimate failure and doom along with being an illustration of how he twists and suppresses himself for the sake of pleasing Daphnes, but of course it’ll probably never happen now since I’m five years out. I really did like this idea, though, and this scene was super fun to write. Except for now I’ve noticed another old typo. T_T)

21. The fic that got away? Lots; I actually have a horrible track record for finishing long fics. The one I’m most bummed out by, that I still think of from time to time, was actually a fill for the old Transformers Anonymous Kink Meme on LJ. It was Animated-verse pre-war Ratchet/Ultra Magnus with a detour into Ratchet/Megatron. I was about two thirds of the way done when something happened in the community that I can’t recall anymore derailed me, and I never ended up finishing it. Sometimes I think about scraping it off the meme to at least archive what I had done on Ao3 or something, but I probably won’t lol. It would take forever to track it down since this was back in like, 2012.

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demethinkstoomuch · 5 years

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Learning to Read, pt 3: C is for Commendation

Chapters: 3/26 Fandom: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses, Fire Emblem Series Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Dedue Molinaro Characters: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Dedue Molinaro, Gustave Dominic, Original Characters, Rufus Blaiddyd Additional Tags: Pre-Canon, Canon Compliant, Grief, Trauma, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Angst, Fluff, Tragedy of Duscur, Racism, Developing Feelings, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Blue-Lions Typical Mental Illness

Summary:

A series of 26 alphabetically-titled vignettes examining the period where, in the wake of The Tragedy of Duscur, Dimitri taught Dedue to read: a time in which they learned about each other, and the rules of their relationship, perhaps more than about books.

Read on AO3!

A is For Ambiguity

B is for Book

A Note Concerning this Chapter: While some might not find this worth warning over, I thought better safe than sorry and wanted to say that this chapter features some approximately canon-style racism. There's no perfect way to skip it, but an audience member wanting to skip for now regardless would do well to read the first few paragraphs and ctrl+F to "He did the only thing he could."

C is for Commendation

Dedue tried to stand tall under the low-burning heat of gazes seen and unseen. On the other side of the doors to the throne room waited Dimitri, prepared to hear Dedue’s words and accept his loyalty. In front of a medley of rich Faerghus witnesses. He could hear their murmurs through the door, moving like a wind through trees.

It was important that this be seen and understood; otherwise, it was no different than the promise Dedue had already made inside his heart in the very moment Dimitri had reached out his hand. Even if no one heard it, that promise was what mattered to him. But words unspoken couldn’t mean he was accepted at the side of the Prince of Faerghus. For that, they needed something everyone could see – In Faerghus, such oaths had weight. Maybe even enough to silence the whispers of the knights who were watching him, aligned in one column before each side of the door.

“This is going to be a mess,” whispered a knifelike knight, whose steel blue hair matched his armor so perfectly that, to Dedue’s eye, it looked as if the armor’s material had been chosen for it – beautifully-made armor with no traces of hammered-out dents or scuffing. He continued at a clear voice, ”A Duscur hayseed couldn’t possibly understand courtesy. Look at him.”

Dedue couldn’t help but turn down his gaze, turn inward, swallow a breath gone cold and still in him. The longer he looked around, the more he might agree. The day didn’t call for armor – but he couldn’t afford it or make it if it did. He came in a borrowed white tunic, in borrowed pants, to stand bare-headed in a place that gleamed with gilt and bristled with spears. The knights had seen a million ceremonies like this one – the only novelty here was this awkward peasant from a town between the forests and plains of Duscur. From a ruin, now.

“You’re thinking about it too practically, Carston. There’s no such thing as too poor for a commendation, really; what matters is the oath well-made, and the service faithful,” commented a fair-haired knight in a reasonable tone. This provoked a forlorn sigh from the only member of the column Dedue had seen before today – Gustave, an older knight who Dimitri seemed to trust a great deal. Amid the glitter, that knight seemed shabby, tired, old. But the younger men around him hardly noticed. “You have to remember what they say about His Highness the prince: he’s got a strong sense of compassion. I think it’s admirable, a lord who can have pity.”

The knight’s last words were very much the truth. Perhaps they all were. If he could manage an oath well-made, it would be enough. He needed only repeat it and hold it inside himself. He kept his eye contact only with the stone floors underfoot, worn hazy grey-white and soft-edged by time and ages of footsteps. But the rabbit of his heart was running faster and faster. He could do nothing about his background, his station. He could do little for his appearance he hadn’t already – hair pulled back in a tidy knot, clothes and skin clean. He was scary-looking and tall, even for someone from Duscur. He didn’t know if that was for or against him, as a fighting man. And he could at least fill the role he wished for; he had no doubt of his faith.

"I promise on the goddess that I will in the future be faithful to my lord, never cause him harm, and will observe my homage to him completely, against all persons, loyally and without deceit."

They’d laid out those words until late the night before. There were words Dedue had learned just to say that phrase in Fodlani. An oath to Fodlan’s goddess wasn’t special to him, but it wasn’t for her. It only needed to reach the people in that room without embarrassing anyone. He’d hold out his hands, and Dimitri would accept them in his (they’d needed to wait until his left arm was healed enough to be used lightly for this) – and then things would be settled. The words, mincing shadows when cast against the truth, sank down his throat.

“So you’re not worried about what having a vassal like that will do for his image, Henri? Or ours?” Asked Carston, more low now. Almost actually attempting to whisper.

“What concerns us is our own liege, not his nephew,” replied Henri. “There’s hardly anyone left from the king’s own service for His Highness, the poor prince – it’s not surprising that it can’t get filled with the sort of quality it had before.”

Patience . He tried to think it over their words. His hands tensed into each other, digging in their nails. Those hands had to be good enough. He only needed to be calm.

“And whose fault is that?” Asked a third knight grimly. Older than the first two, but not old, a sharp white scar eating up one cheek.

“They’ll pay,” came a voice Dedue couldn’t place, low and slow and thoughtful. “I wish we could join the marshaling at the border.”

What had happened that day. It was still not over. It was building, catching its breath, becoming a war built on massacres. Patience , thought Dedue above the sound of flames that met his falling heart. Over the sound of steel that still was not silenced. He got so little news, and yet, each piece was a beast to tear his heart.

“I hope by the time His Lordship allows us to go, they’re not already totally crushed.” Carston lifted a hand to his sharp, jutting chin. “I’d like some decoration if it’s war, at least… But I can’t imagine there’d be a worthy fight to be had from hicks, so is there really a point?”

“Of course there is. His Late Majesty’s blood is still on their hands. Even if we never served His Majesty, we’re knights of Faerghus,” said Henri, almost gently. “We know our duty, even if we’ll never see reward or praise.”

“Then how can you look at what His Highness is doing and not feel ashamed?” Carston shook his head. “A peasant alone would be a poor – ahaha – enough choice… Has he gone mad?”

While that sickening laugh crept into Dedue’s bones, the voice that had sighed stirred from the front of the column at last.

“Do not insult His Highness,” Gustave’s voice sounded so tired that whatever his real age was might have been doubled. He was still sturdy-looking, still in fine shape, still carrot red in all his braided hair. His armor had seen more than its share of battles, though, and the places where the hammer or solder had been applied to help ease its scars were clear. The marks of age on him weren’t vast – but they were overwhelming. His lined face felt like it had been not so much worn into him as cut. His posture had something weakened running through it, a weariness that kept him from fully lifting his head. His eyes, which were in color bright, seemed dull and listless as a dead fish.

Dimitri had trusted this Gustave with making sure Dedue had what he needed and was not forced to leave. Gustave had answered that without comment or complaint. And now, he said what Dedue wanted to say, what Dedue could not say. But if he couldn’t say it, what was the point?

“Don’t be so arrogant. There is no knight alive in this kingdom who should hold up his head,” Gustave pronounced. “We have all failed His Majesty and His Highness.”

“And letting this pass by silently will help?” Carston’s voice actually lifted now above the not-truly-a-whisper.

“Have a little pity, Carston,” Henri actually whispered in reply.

“You speak of pity, Henri?” The scarred knight did not look at anyone when he spoke. “What about pity for the King? To turn around and accept claims of ‘loyalty’ from one of the scum who killed Lambert – to throw aside the honor of the royal family? To ruin his good name and good will that way?”

It fell like a veil over all the knights. Even the one who weren’t conversing, just listening. Even the ones in their own whispers. It was a punch to Dedue – his patience sank, dragged down into the depths by those words, into a feeling so black he could not even say what it really was.

The doors creaked open before he knew it. They all fell silent as the antechamber was struck with light. At the far end of the hall was Faerghus’ empty throne, shrouded in blue so rich it might well have been black. The shadow framed Dimitri’s bright hair, his pale skin, the flash of white ermine on the edges of his cuffs and cape as he stood before it, until he shone like a beacon. The great hall yawned between them like a pit, an aisle on either side of which stood a few observers, perhaps 25 people in whole, not counting the tall man with red-gold hair slightly to Dimitri’s side, his uncle Rufus. The knights fanned out to flank both sides in slow motion. The heads of the Faerghus courtiers, clad in deep colors and brocade, lined in felt and fur, poised and polished, all turned, their chuckles silenced.

Dedue came to a stop before he crossed the threshold. He stared into the crowd as his heart, his breath, his nerve all sank to the bottom of the world. Their gazes were knives sharpening themselves on his skin, his clothes, his face – burning cold, identical no matter whose face it was. Butchered by them, he understood – everything the knights had said was written on these faces as they watched this Duscur hayseed, scum and regicide, who’d demand their prince throw away his honor out of pity. Nothing could ever change this.

And Dedue couldn’t find what he was supposed to say. He couldn’t find anything but a suffocating ash in his core; ache and flames and the clang of steel blotted out anything else in the world.

He did the only thing he could do for either of them: he turned and ran, footsteps resounding. Even Dimitri’s sad voice at his back was swallowed by the sounds of an inferno in him. That plea couldn’t fix things; somewhere along the line, he’d been tricked into believing it could. What had he been thinking?

There was nothing that could wipe away the differences in his blood.

He tore through a blurring maze of grey stone, pushing himself through doorways until he broke from the stifling warm air, hitting the wall of bright, cool spring beyond.

There was nothing that could make him anything but an uneducated peasant.

He kept going, but there was no running from his own failure; he knew he couldn’t run and run and become someone who hadn’t just run away.

There was nothing that could make him not too foreign, too poor, too pitiful, to do anything but shame someone so precious.

He was out of air to run with, so when he hit true silence, he came to a stop in some corner below the walls. The garden here was old, gone wild where no one had noticed, hidden between layers and gaps in the castle walls and old buildings. His legs dropped out from beneath him there amid wilting white roses and the rustle of tall grasses.

There was nothing he could do to make the life he was given worth something, after all.

Whatever dam stood between his heart and the world crumbled with the rest of him. Now he cried; not quickly or loudly, but in quiet, rolling tears where his breath was slowed almost to the point of being held; it came out with a tremor he felt rather than heard. He curled in on himself, cursing himself in every breath.

Time could have stopped until another figure entered the garden through its only open entrance, a gap in the walls. Dimitri picked his way closer to Dedue’s figure slowly, brushing aside a vine of overgrown roses, already ready to lose petals. A pure and simple sorrow overcame the worry on his face as he lowered himself to the grass by Dedue. His cape surrounded him in a puddle of cool purple that he tugged about him as he thought about what to say.

“I’m sorry, Dedue. I’m so very, very sorry.” Dedue didn’t know how to respond to that. He should be the one apologizing, but he couldn’t begin to say it. “I should have thought more about how you’d feel.”

“No.” At last, he’d gotten a grip on his tongue. “I am sorry. I...ran away from my promise. I embarrassed you.” He didn’t look to his side to see Dimitri or reveal his own tear-stained face. He simply couldn’t, even if the breathlessness in his voice gave it all away.

“I was far too thoughtless.” Dimitri twitched his cape aside to pick at the grass between them, taking up a handful. The blades flitted down under fidgeting fingers. He sighed.

“I needed … to do better. I should not have been… frightened. That is my fault.” Dedue insisted, now lifting up his head. There wasn’t a lick of anger or disappointment on Dimitri’s face – only a softness that opened wider as he saw the paths tears had washed down Dedue’s face.

“Dedue…” a soft murmur moved the air. Dimitri turned himself wholly to face Dedue. Dimitri’s hand still could reach out and rest itself on Dedue’s slumped shoulder. “I’m not hurt; you are. So, please, tell me what happened.”

“It was nothing… Nothing happened.” Dedue looked away. He shouldn’t think there could be something like this touch, some bond between them – not when in its place there were the miles between Fhirdiad and Duscur stood between them, the soldiers preparing further reprisals, further blood, further fire. But his shoulder didn’t move to shift off Dimitri’s hand; its weight shifted the scales, threw Dedue’s judgement off its balance.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t believe that.”

“...People spoke, that’s all.” Dedue shook his head, causing the faint clink of his earring to rise above his small voice. Dimitri leaned forward to grip Dedue’s gaze in a vise of vivid blue. “About my background. About Duscur, and… about you.”

“What about your background?” Dimitri’s voice hinted at stormclouds as his posture locked stiff with indignation.

“It was…nothing I did not know.” Dedue wasn’t lying – but he hadn’t entirely seen it that way before then, hadn’t been paying attention. He wrestled for a moment – to tell Dimitri what they had said of Dimitri’s pity, or not? Dimitri’s gaze did not release him; so, his words limped onward. “...But it made me think about… Everything. I was not able to be calm.”

“Everything...” Dimitri sounded thoughtful, but didn’t wait for an answer; he knew it. All the better – Dedue didn’t want to have to explain it. Everything was everything that had happened. Everything was that day, and all the ways it still lingered. The way no one would let it end. “I admire how calm you are about it, really. I, well, I’m not sure I have the strength.”

“You do well. It is...an effort, sometimes.” He shook his head, sighing. “It wasn’t enough. I could not help you.” Those weren’t the right words, but he was tired of fighting for them. He wanted someone to understand what he meant. he missed his sister, who always understood, without even a word -- and when someone didn’t, she’d tell them.

He missed his sister.

“Dedue, I’m not bothered, not really. I’m OK.” Dimitri insisted, giving Dedue’s gripped shoulder a shake strong enough to move Dedue’s entire body with it. Dimitri smiled sheepishly and kept talking, “I do admire that you can be calm, but if anyone has the right to cry until his tears have dried, isn’t that you? It’s OK. You don’t have to be calm now.”

All the breath was gone from Dedue at once.

In the next moment, the cool air nipped as his wet eyes. A tremor ran through him, released from some place locked in his heart. Dedue wanted to deny it after that silence, or to thank Dimitri for that – and couldn’t, not even for a moment, make an effort at it; all that came out was a faint noise too thin for his chest or throat, something that came from the top of his head or the back of his neck. Instead of words, he unfolded to reach over and grab Dimitri, pulled him over into his arms.The momentary brace of shock filtered out of Dimitri’s figure. So close there on the ground, Dedue could hear the little sound Dimitri made as he settled into the hug, and steadied his arms around Dedue’s back. The tears rolled without restraint down his face once more — but this time, they landed on Dimitri’s shoulder, where Dedue had buried his head. Like that, Dedue could catch himself – but he didn’t, not immediately. They sat in this hollow of walls and in the vast, clanging ache at the base of Dedue’s heart.

But he couldn’t push away the world forever. Couldn’t deny the truth forever, however nice it had been to simply be; he separated himself, bending grass and Garland Moon wildflowers to make a distance between them again. Dimitri didn’t fully withdraw – his eyes pleaded for something. Dedue kept going.

“I saw in their eyes… Under their looks, I knew how little I was. I couldn’t do anything. I cannot move in your world, Dimitri.” The wind filled the silence, blowing with the promise of sweet summer. The roses that climbed the walls around them trembled, sending petals tumbling down, dotting their shoulders with a perfumed rain. Dimitri’s posture fell down with them and with Dedue’s speech dropping onto him. He finally couldn’t look any more – his hands clutched at nothing from a resting place atop his knees.

“I don’t see you that way. No one should.” What people should or shouldn’t do didn’t matter – those were just kind words. But Dimitri pressed on. “Give me names, and I'll — I'll think of something to say to them." Dedue shook his head. Remembering their words, he doubted anything Dimitri could say would do anything but hurt his 'image.' It was more trouble than it was worth. Dimitri lowered his head, ashamed. "...I’m sorry for not thinking about how hard it would be, to have to be something for everyone as the center of attention, somewhere so different from your home.”

“It’s not their attention that stops me… Not only their attention,” Dedue corrected himself. “I have nothing. I know nothing of Faerghus’ honor. I couldn’t even keep my promise long enough to make it. I failed you.” There was no single word to end that sentence, though — he had failed Dimitri. He had failed everything he had in the world. He may well have failed whatever god had chosen him to be the one given his life that day. And harder to mention, because it felt so selfish to say, “...I failed myself.”

Dimitri tilted his head while his thin face, drained white as the petals interspersed across his purple cape and golden hair, knotted with concern – and with thoughtfulness. To answer that silence, regardless of whether he could stay here, Dedue reached over and gently brushed some of the roses off of Dimitri’s shoulders. Dimitri followed Dedue’s hand with his eye, not refusing the gesture. But he waited for it to finish, and for the air to lull still when the wind died.

“...And if you had another chance, is that still something you want? To swear such an oath, I mean.”

Dedue started, eyeing Dimitri, whose face was so earnest that Dedue couldn’t read what he wanted. He nodded.

“But that doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does. I don’t think you’ve failed me! I don’t want you to feel you’ve failed yourself.”

“That does not change what happened.” Dedue didn’t see the point in such a thing. Even if it was nice,

“It changes what can happen!” Dimitri insisted hotly, before his tone softened, grew warm rather than burning. “I know I might be asking a lot, but if we thought of what you could do, and find ways to lighten or avoid the rest, and tried to walk forward little by little…” Dimitri righted his shoulders and spine, lifting his chin. But even if the rest of his face tried to hold itself proudly, his eyes were so soft then, soft and blue and open as the sky overhead. “No matter what anyone says, I think that’s enough. If you chose to offer me something… I would accept you.”

The prince reached out his hands, together but open. A space between them waited to hold Dedue’s hands. For a moment, Dedue didn’t understand; when he did, he still wasn’t sure that he was right. If this was right. There was a limit to what could happen – however disappointing, there were still things no one could change. Even knowing that, would this be alright? He carried the question in his eyes, his fingers curled and hesitating. He couldn’t remember what to say – no. Those simply weren’t the words he needed now. And he saw an answer, still carried in those outstretched hands.

“I never want to hurt you,” Dedue advanced his words cautiously, almost a question. When Dimitri nodded slightly, something in him buoyed up on a gently rolling sea. “I never want to run like that again… But to always stand by you, to help you in any way I can. I wish to protect you faithfully, no matter what I must face.

“You saved more than my life.” The sorrow had melted out of his voice, and he met Dimitri’s gaze with resolve. If Dimitri said they could move forward – then no matter what he feared in his heart, he’d believe it. If he stopped, if he didn’t believe in the world Dimitri could show him, the world that still had mercy and kindness in it, even for him, then why had he come this far? If he wasn’t ready to stand by Dimitri now, he would keep trying until he became ready. If there was nothing to make him, he'd try for the rest of his life.

So he placed his hands into Dimitri’s — for a moment, those fingers which held him like a treasure could keep out the world. They seemed so small against his hands, but they were so warm. There was nowhere he would not go for them, and nothing in him they could not reach.

“I swear, I will always believe in that.”

Dimitri blinked, his lips parted from slack shock. Before Dedue could wonder how much he’d overdone it, Dimitri smiled, face graced with a little pink flush.

“That was a splendid oath! Wonderful, even!” Dimitri answered in beaming tones. He chuckled, his hands shifting over Dedue’s as if deciding when to let go. “It caught me a little off-guard,hearing something like that… I’ll do my best to live up to it.” He sighed, realizing what he hadn’t said — but he did so with the truest of his smiles, small and bright as candle-flame. “Forgive me; what I mean to say is… I accept your homage as my vassal, Dedue.”

“Hm,” Dedue could only nod, with nothing to say he hadn’t already said, and too choked up to try. No one spoke for a small while.

“I suppose that’s ceremony enough,” said Dimitri when he finally began to slowly surrender Dedue’s hands. The moment ended, not abruptly or coldly, but the simple passing of one thing into the next; Dimitri casually leaned back, propping himself up on one arm. He rotated his left arm slowly, feeling out its range of motion.

“..Is that so?” Dedue wasn’t nearly so convinced, even if he did appreciate that. However nice this was, however peacefully affirming, it wasn’t any different than it had been. “There was a reason for the original plan, wasn’t there?”

“There was, and it’s one that we can’t just leave be yet. I just think nothing good can come of hurting someone, so we’ll have to find some other way.” Dimitri nodded and lowered his jaw into his free hand. “Who could I ask… Rodrigue, perhaps, if I wrote him? He may know some method of legitimacy that involves fewer witnesses. Perhaps we’d only need the right ones with his backing.”

Dedue mentally flipped through the people who’d come to see Dimitri after he’d returned to the capital. It was a small list, but most of them hadn’t considered Dedue long enough, or at all, for him to commit them to memory. Then again. which somber man Rodrigue was might not have mattered, if he could help them.

“I hope so.”

They settled into a companionable silence; Dimitri stretched – first his newly-freed arm, causing him to wince a little at the edges of its motion, then his other arm – but the injuries on his back must still have hurt as well, because he stopped entirely with a shadowed look that soon faded. Dedue let his familiar calm slip about him comfortably as he cleaned off his face and brushed aside a few rose petals from his clothes. And then they both stopped to truly look around the almost triangular garden they found themselves in. An outer wall, an inner wall, and a building’s windowless wall formed tangents around each other, creating a small space, only opened by a gap in the inner wall and a small doorway into the building, which was sealed over with a hardy-looking shrub. The grass had grown long towards the coming birth of Faerghus’ bright, clement summer, and it was dotted with buds of wildflowers and a few perennials gone to seed. Mostly, it was roses that had gone wild, climbing up all the walls. It was, for a ruin, such a peaceful little place.

“How did you ever manage to find such a place?” asked Dimitri, looking up to where the roses climbed and tangled. “I needed more luck than anything to find you.”

“I am not sure where we are. I moved until I was done, that is all.” He hadn’t been looking for a place, but seeing it now, he felt two parallel thoughts: the first, it needed tidying; The second, though, made him smile a little. “...It’s very peaceful here.”

“Yes, it truly is; it’s rare to find somewhere so private, but I guess this little place has been forgotten altogether.” Dimitri sighed contentedly, then shook his head. A wistful look filled his eyes. “It might be selfish, but it would be nice if it could always be so.” Dedue nodded in response.

“Then we should go, before someone comes to find you.” Dedue had to admit, he didn’t want this moment intruded by someone who’d only scorn him – or to lose a place like this as a refuge.

“I suppose so.”

However, they lingered there for a while still, while the sunlight filtered down from over the garden wall. The air smelled sweet, and it carried no sound but a distant bird’s voice. It was still some time before they moved to rejoin the rest of the world.

#Fire Emblem #Fire Emblem: Three Houses #Fire Emblem: Three Houses Spoilers #Content Warning: Racism #Dimidue #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #dedue molinaro #Gustave Dominic #Other characters are in this one #Fanfic #My Writing #Learning to Read #Finally: These Boys Get a Hug

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littlethingwithfeathers · 5 years

Text

Writing Update: 8-19-19

Publishing now!

Stolen Season (Friendship is Unnecessary): Steve/Natasha vignettes during Endgame’s five year jump. I thought I would do a set of scenes, some sexy some not, of how we get from Steve and Natasha working together at the end of IW, to them halfway living apart at the end of the five year jump. It also covers some of the hunt for Ronin!Clint, Steve taking up the mantle of group therapist, and Natasha stepping up as a sort of hybrid of Cap and Nick Fury. Definitely a trip to angsty-town, but I promise to fix it in the end.

Excerpt:

"Help is on the way. Just get everyone to sit tight."

Natasha hung up, eyes darting around the room. Clint! Holy shit, it was Clint! He'd finally let her know where he was! He'd practically sent her an engraved invitation to meet him. But the kids… she was gonna need help.

She dove for her burner phone and had it flipped open when she looked at the time on the display.

7:47pm.

It was Wednesday. Steve was in group, and not likely to answer. And even if he did feel the phone… maybe she shouldn't. She snapped it shut again. No… this… this wasn't his gig anymore.

And for the first time in a very long time… she thought of Bucky. Actually thought of him. Not just as some phantom pain to be ignored until it went away. She actually thought, "I should call Bucky." as if he were still alive. As if he could come help her, because honestly, he might've been more use than Steve. And she thought this as if he were upstairs, or in Brooklyn with Steve or…

She shook her head. Hard.

No. Here. Now. Job to do. People to save.

And she did need help on this one. She wasn't equipped for potential hostage extraction or victim care. This was outside of the Avenging paygrade.

"V.E.R.O.N.I.C.A.? Will you please contact Rhodey and patch him through to my earpiece."

"Dialing him now."

***

Other “Friendship is Unnecessary” fics at various stages:

But Most of All Because They Offend Thee: Based off this post. Probably just short, upbeat, porny little one-shot of Nat being a shit and teasing Steve. Because honestly… this series needs some levity after what I’ve done in “Stolen Season.”

One of Those Things (Prologue): Since I’ve written this beast of a series completely out of order, and thus all my author notes are no doubt VERY confusing, I thought I’d put a short prologue on the front. Just a couple of short scenes to plant some seeds and give an actual starting place to this whole sprawling, intertwining mess, but also to give me a chance to address new readers so my forewords on the rest of the fics don’t seem weird. I’ve got a little more than a thousand words written on it which is probably about a third to half way.

Untitled Pre-War Steve/Bucky and Pre-Avengers Phil/Clint/Natasha: Partially a request from @crazyevildru that I’m toying with. Probably a flashback or a memory. This series really does need more Steve/Bucky, and I feel bad about it. I’m thinking of also adding a prequel/flashback of Clint/Phil/Natasha as well… maybe have the whole thing be a discussion over dinner.

Sweet and Honorable (Title pending): Set post Civil War. Bucky insists on coming with Sam and Natasha to rescue Steve when he gets captured. This is starting to take shape in my head as a sort of work through for some of the issues that get raised in “Echo in my Soul.” Given what we know about the new Black Widow movie, I may hold off on this one for a bit. At least until I can figure out how I’m going to squirm around or ignore the added canon. (can’t wait for that movie BTW)

***

Other works coming soon!

Intercalation: A Ulana/Boris/Valery fix-it fic for HBO’s Chernobyl. THE ROUGH DRAFT IS FINISHED! 84k words and it is DONE! Ten full chapters and an epilogue. It’s been challenging since this fic has lots of moving parts. It’s a continuation picking up just after the trial and that arc is studded with flashbacks to things that happened during the show. There’s a lot of character exploration… and one or two honest to goodness physics lectures which I’ve been getting help from an actual physicist and story enthusiast, @cactusowl, to write. Now the long war of editing must begin. Look for this one to start publishing on September 9.

Hymn of Acxiom: Scarlet/Vision. It would be post Endgame, with Wanda helping a newly reconstructed Vision who has no memories and no personality without the Mind Stone to network all the pieces and facets of his personality. This is next on the docket after “Intercalation.” I’ve really only just gotten started. Sketching scenes and playing with theme. Don’t expect anything before November.

A Maelstrom Whirls Below: I’m toying with the possibility of a sequel to my Darcy/Eddie/Venom fic “A Room for Rent in the Fourth Estate.” A rough outline is in place, and I’m starting to sketch around on a few scenes. But right now it’s just some ideas and a few zippy one-liners. It’s starting to get some traction though! Likely won’t start work in earnest until all this Endgame fix-it stuff is done, but I’m definitely letting it percolate.

Hang By Every Word: The outline for my Stucky fic is still coming along but it will be awhile yet before I start writing on it in earnest. The basic theme (and I’m sure this has been done, but fuck it) is the undoing of Bucky’s conditioning one trigger word at a time. And each trigger word locked down a memory that HYDRA deemed integral to Bucky’s personality. And of course… they all involve Steve. So I have to write things from Steve’s point of view, and all ten memories have to be written from Bucky’s point of view, and they have to tie together into a cohesive narrative. The memories are out of order, but Steve’s timeline isn’t and… It’s a challenge. I’m still largely in the brainstorming phase… writing little snippets here and there. Nothing’s solidly taking form just yet. Again… just letting it percolate.

Untitled Sarge/Melinda May fic: I know. I KNOW! Don’t give me that look. You’re watching the same show I am and you’re seeing what I’m seeing. This shit writes itself. I’ve been sketching on a few things, and now that the season’s wrapped up I have an idea of what I want to do. I might crowbar in a few days just so that I can have some exploration time... sometime between (SPOILERS) May shooting Sarge and them heading for the Temple.

#writing #writing update

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taotrooper · 6 years

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Melody ad libitum (1/3)

For WWX’s birthday, a little vignette to study some of his relationships with people and music.

Fandom: Mo Dao Zu Shi/The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation Characters: Wei Wuxian. In this chapter, Jiang Cheng and several unnamed Yunmeng characters Genre: gen in this chapter, fluff, introspection, foreshadowing Rating: PG for teens drinking, but what else is new? Summary: The flute wasn’t always a weapon for Wei Wuxian. Music is what you make of it, and he’s always followed the tempo of his own heart.

→ Link to AO3

"How many times, you fool? Out of tempo!"

"I speed up to make it more fun to play!" Wuxian rolled his eyes. "It's you who should catch up with me!"

"That's not how music collaborations works. You have no concept of harmony."

"I play in harmony to the beats of my heart," he smiled.

He was nine years old the first time he grabbed a flute. Music was, after all, one of the venerable Six Arts that every cultivator had to master to be considered an individual of culture. Wei Wuxian chose it from all instruments because it was smaller, and cheaper to buy and maintain for the Jiangs. The sound was quite pleasing to his ears as well.

At that age he was already forgetting the soft lullabies his mother sang for him, but the disposition to love music was blooming within him. A fragrant love and fascination for the slender flute, even if it was less exciting than shooting kites with his brand new bow.

His teacher was impressed with his innate talent. By his first lesson, young master Wei had followed his instructions perfectly. By his third lesson, he had played a good chunk of the song the man had showed after only listening once, with only a couple of notes off. It soon became evident that the boy was one of those musicians who only had to hear a melody once to memorize it. Wuxian would get bored after practice and try some tunes that definitely weren't in the repertoire of classic music he was being taught.

"Did you compose that, young master?" the teacher asked with his eyebrows upwards.

Wei Wuxian shook his head without stopping his song.

"Where did you learn it, then? Did someone teach you?"

The kid stopped and took a breath while removing his lips from the mouth of the instrument.

"Dunno. Probably the street musicians at Yiling?"

He wasn't sure. He could recall the tune but not the face or the place or the moment. Wuxian had a wondrous memory except for these details. He did remember, however, the street musicians. He would sit nearby and listen to their art with a big smile. In a world with no food, no parents, no warmth, and no toys, music was one of the little joys he had left. The musicians could rarely help him, also beggars with nothing on them but their worn instruments, yet they appreciated the presence of their tiny fan.

Years later, these memories of these poor artists would fade away. Yet he had harvested their songs and pressed them as dry flowers between the pages of his mind. Forever part of the chapter of his earliest music lessons, together with the basics and the classic symphonies. They would never leave him for as long as he could play a flute.

Regardless, the teacher was rendered speechless. Had the boy been adopted by the GusuLan sect instead, he suspected he could have become an amazing music-based cultivator. Perhaps he could have rivaled even their first son with the flute, at the hands of the right instructor! Yet he was a YunmengJiang sect member, and this was a Lotus Pier child now, and the Lotus Pier children develop other sets of skills. He would do his best to polish that diamond in the rough until there was nothing else to teach him. Even Young Master Jiang, his technique flawless even for such a young age, would soon be running out of things to learn from him.

The man wouldn't be alive when Wei Wuxian became famous for his flute skills, and not in the way he had imagined. It was perhaps for the better, only remembering the sweet boyish smiles from those two talented students who surpassed him. Only the happy notes from Yiling's streets taken to his grave instead of the chilling shrills through the dark.

The porcelain cups clinked against each other, and the teenagers made a toast and downed the sparkling liquor with a swoop. It wasn't the first and wouldn't be the last for the evening. Round jars filled to the brim were expecting their turn. Dishes of snacks danced between youthful hands.

Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, and six of their closest shidi had locked themselves in the senior boys’ bedroom. They had received permission from Jiang Cheng's parents to throw the party after training, but the booze and food from the market had never been mentioned in the terms. The lad had shaken his head when his mischievous brother had brought it as contraband from the Pier, but the reproach was shallow and was said with a big grin on his face.

"What kind of party would be without it, anyway?" Wei Wuxian shrugged and grabbed the jar to fill up his cup again, not feeling remorse.

"Well done, Wei-shixiong!" one of the disciples said, his ears already red.

"These dumplings are just so good!" The chubbiest shidi munched in delight.

"It's our last party for a year so of course we needed the best of the best!"

"It's just one year in Gusu," Jiang Cheng sighed. "You're all being melodramatic."

"But you still agreed to the party."

"It's an excuse as good as any," he nodded. "Besides, you know the Cloud Recesses are quite strict, so it might as well be our last party until we're back home."

"Three thousand rules," the youngest disciple whispered.

Wei Wuxian put his empty cup on the table. "Hopefully that's just rumors. But enough about dull stuff. This party needs some more spice."

Seven boys who had tried his peculiar cuisine before glared at him. Some eyes had fear.

"Cowards. But also, this party needs more life or this will become a burial mound. How about some music, huh?"

The cringing faces vanished to be replaced by smiles and cheers.

"Now we're talking! Play one of your Yiling folk songs, Shixiong."

"Yeah! We're not hearing it in a year's time!"

"One condition." Wuxian got up and rummaged through his belongings to get his flute. He had a brilliant idea. "Young Master has to join in or I'm not playing."

Jiang Cheng's palm met his forehead. The disciples started to beg.

"Please, Young Master Jiang! We haven't heard you in ages!"

"We won't hear it in a year!"

"You guys just want to listen to Wei Wuxian."

"Of course not! We want both seniors! His flute is great but all alone it doesn't do much for a party."

"Honestly, you're kind of better? During music lessons, the old man keeps telling me to follow Jiang Wanjin's dexterity and diligence. He never mentions Shixiong."

From Jiang Cheng's small blush and the way his chest puffed a bit, Wuxian could tell the shidi had said the right thing. He grinned wide. His brother always needed an ego boost, in his opinion. Yet his next action was hitting Jiang Cheng's head softly with a second xiao.

"See what I always say? You are better than me. Our teacher says I might be a talented genius, but I don't care about sticking to the scores so it's bad in the end."

"I had to be better than you at something, you knave." He grabbed the flute with the satisfaction of someone who actually practiced and studied. "Well, who goes first?"

"No, no, no." Wei Wuxian moved his open palm side to side. "It's not a duel, you competitive blockhead. A duet! A concert! Playing the same song at the same time, and the winners are all of us."

He saw the glint in Jiang Cheng's eye darken a bit, but he didn't complain. "Which one?"

"'Over the peaks' is the catchiest and longest. Ready? One, two, one, two, three, four!"

They grasped for breath before putting his lips to the mouth of their flutes. Nimble fingers moved quickly through the wood, covering the right little holes with grace and precision. The other boys howled and clapped to the rhythm. The tallest of them got up and starting dancing. The chubbiest one banged softly on the table with his palms, like a drum. Two had learned the lyrics so they sang the parts they could recall —the ones with the most sexual innuendo, as kids do.

They were all having a great time, but by the fifth verse Jiang Cheng was struggling. Wei Wuxian's tune was running too much. The song started to sound bad.

"Here they go again," the youngest shidi whispered.

By the time the seventh verse started, Cheng stopped flat. He took out the flute from his lips, annoyance on his temples. The tall one sat again on the floor, disappointed.

"How many times, you fool? Out of tempo!"

"I speed up to make it more fun to play!" Wuxian rolled his eyes. "It's you who should catch up with me!"

"That's not how music collaborations works. You have no concept of harmony."

"I play in harmony to the beats of my heart," he smiled.

"Whatever you say..." He put down the flute and took his cup. "Sure you don't want to duel?"

"Nope. Duel Lan Xichen at Gusu for all I care."

"I know my limitations, unlike a certain person."

"You know, it'd be fun to bash a party with the Lan Sect and play upbeat songs with one of them. They're pretty musical, right?" Wei Wuxian sighed at the prospect of new friends and good times.

"Their music is for cultivation and health uses only, I think. Very few Lan members are as artistically inclined as the founder."

Wuxian looked around, but all his shidi's expressions confirmed it.

"Come on, they can't all be so stiff! I'll get one of them to play something for me, you'll see."

"Fifty coins say you won't," the most cynical disciple dared.

"Fifty coins say I can convince that Lan Wangji guy you're all so scared of."

Six jaws dropped and some blurted at him to stop the mad claim.

"No, let him," Jiang Cheng smirked as he sipped his cup. He was already drunk. "Our motto is Attempt the Impossible, guys. I want to see him attempt and fail spectacularly for once."

"Jiang-shixiong is right. I'm gonna be so rich, guys."

A day later, Wei Wuxian had forgotten to pack his flute. By the time he had the privilege to win the implausible bet, he had no memory of it whatsoever.

→ Part 2 (the Wens)

#mo dao zu shi #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #$fanfic #mdzsnetwork

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eddycurrents · 6 years

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Uncanny X-Men #1 “Disassembled - Part 1”

Writers: Ed Brisson, Matthew Rosenberg & Kelly Thompson | Artist: Mahmud Asrar | Colourist: Rachelle Rosenberg | Letters: Joe Caramagna

Published by Marvel | 14.11.2018 | $7.99

It’s only been since early 2017 since there’s been an Uncanny X-Men series on the stands, but this almost two years has felt like an eternity as the team has been split into Blue, Gold, and Red instances. This new Uncanny X-Men #1 works to bring them back under the same umbrella as a new threat looms over the heads of Marvel’s merry mutants.

This issue kicks off with an ominous vision and warning to Jean from Multiple Man that sets the tone of confusion and questioning some impending catastrophe on its way.

Ed Brisson, Matthew Rosenberg, and Kelly Thompson start out the series with a number of events that would otherwise seem to be routine: Kitty taking a group of students on a field run against c-list second stringer villains like the Mutant Liberation Front and Jean and a group of veteran X-Men to a rally full of anti-mutant hate speech. It’s old hat in both cases, but it gets turned on its ear pretty quick. Something massive goes wrong when Kitty disappears and it just snowballs when Madrox freaks out at the news.

There’s some very nice use of humour throughout, and an interesting bit of character development from the Young X-Men/Academy X group as they begin questioning their place within the X-Men. It’s also really nice to see Cannonball with the X-Men again, it’s been awhile.

Of the puzzles raised, the flash evolution in the Kalahari makes me wonder if there’s a bit of Apocalypse’s technology involved, as we saw in the recent back-ups in X-Men Black. If someone else is using it to help feed and nourish people in Botswana. The random teleportations are also kind of weird, especially when it occurs to both Madrox and Senator Allen.

Mahmud Asrar handles the art chores for this opening salvo, and for the most part the artwork is gorgeous. Asrar and Rachelle Rosenberg produce some incredibly beautiful pieces throughout the story, in particular the Beast and Storm scene in Africa. Great composition and colour use.

The action throughout is also wonderful. The battle between the X-Men and the Mutant Liberation Front is impressive and the latter fight with the multiplicity of Madroxes is incredible. Many moving parts with so many people--albeit the same person--that just adds to the chaos of this story.

I am, however, a little disappointed in the sequence in front of City Hall. The backgrounds and mob of Madroxes are incredible, packing a large amount of detail into the pages. My problem comes in the X-Men themselves. In their civilian clothes, they’re kind of bland. Indistinguishable from one another in a couple of cases. Other than Jean and Betsy due to their hair colour, and Bishop and Jubilee due they’re distinctive looks, without naming them through the dialogue, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you with certainty who they were. Angel and Cannonball might have well been the same person. If the intent, though, was to make them blend into the crowd as nothing special, it worked.

Ultimately, this feels like an end more than a beginning. Kind of like how Avengers: No Surrender was a big last hurrah for the various Avengers titles before the Jason Aaron and Ed McGuinness relaunch. We know that Uncanny X-Men is carrying on past this arc, though, so it makes it a bit more interesting. Making me wonder if this is more of a winnowing process to refocus and repurpose the X-Men from the current status quo to whatever it is that comes next.

It’s very chaotic, and there are a ton of questions raised as to what’s going on, but it’s not messy. The chaos and confusion are definitely deliberate meant to make everyone, including both characters and the audience, wonder what’s happening. I think Brisson, Rosenberg, and Thompson have done a great job of capturing the feel of the X-Men and successfully crafted an intriguing starting point for this series.

“What Tomorrow Brings”

Part One: A Bishop Story - Writer: Matthew Rosenberg | Artist: Mirko Colak

Part Two: A Jean Grey Story - Writer: Kelly Thompson | Artist: Ibraim Roberson

Part Three: An Armor & Anole Story - Writer: Ed Brisson | Penciller: Mark Bagley | Inker: Andrew Hennessy

Epilogue - Writer: Kelly Thompson | Penciller: Mark Bagley | Inker: Andrew Hennessy

Colourist: Guru e-FX | Letters: Joe Caramagna

There’s also a back-up story, broken down into parts for each of the main writers individually, that deals with some moments before the events of the main story.

The first is a Bishop vignette from Rosenberg and Mirko Colak. It focuses on a little device that warns Bishop of forthcoming temporal problems and an investigation that leads him to Dark Beast and the Sugar Man. The inclusion of Age of Apocalypse holdovers and what’s happening to them is definitely an interesting point. Kind of makes you wonder if someone’s cleaning up other anomalies in a similar fashion to what’s been going on in Extermination.

The second is a bizarre coffee shop conversation about hope and the sad state of the world between Jean Grey and a strange old woman, by Thompson and Ibraim Roberson. Roberson’s art is great and his Jean Grey is gorgeous, looking somewhere between Jessica Chastain and Bryce Dallas Howard. Really weird end bit as the coffee shop is invaded by some sort of person who seems able to psychically take over multiple people’s minds to do as they wish.

The third part and the epilogue are both handled by Mark Bagley and Andrew Hennessy for art. Brisson tackles the third sequence, getting somewhat meta with Armor and Anole as they complain about being sidelined. With another appearance from Dark Beast, raising more questions about what’s going on.

Thompson handles the epilogue, bringing together all three parts, and giving a bit of insight into a broader battle between two unknown groups. The first is the psychic who seems to able to achieve a hive mind and the other is “him” who is likely the old woman that Jean was speaking to earlier. It makes you wonder if these are the agents who’ve been causing the havoc in the main story, if maybe this psychic is controlling Madrox (or is a Madrox) which is why Jean and Betsy have a difficult time reading him.

The digital edition of Uncanny X-Men #1 on Comixology comes as the “Director’s Edition” and also comes with an additional bit of back material. There’s the script, art transitions from line art to coloured pages, sketches and designs, covers, and such. It’s interesting to see this look behind the curtain and it increases the page count to nearly a whopping 300. All for the same price as the regular print edition.

Uncanny X-Men #2 “Disassembled - Part 2”

Writers: Ed Brisson, Matthew Rosenberg & Kelly Thompson | Penciller: RB Silva| Inker: Adriano Di Benedetto | Colourist: Rachelle Rosenberg | Letters: Joe Caramagna

Published by Marvel | 21.11.2018 | $3.99

Uncanny X-Men #2 continues the chaos of the first issue, with even more strange occurrences breaking out across the globe as extinct animals resurface and a multiplicity of Madroxes manifests in Kansas which can be seen from space.

I actually think I liked this one more than the first issue, even though it follows along much of the same lines as the first one, as the X-Men are in disarray, chaos is erupting across the globe, and we’re still not sure what’s going on anywhere.

Ed Brisson, Matthew Rosenberg, and Kelly Thompson put the disappearance of Kitty and Senator Allen on hold for a bit as they split into teams to deal with the disasters popping up, that seem to have the same energy signature as the disappearances. It makes me wonder if these are ripple effects from the messing with time from Multiple Man--especially since he’s an unintentional major antagonist so far--or if maybe it’s a repercussion from however Extermination ends (or, of course, it could just be X-Man).

Splitting into smaller teams to handle the issues, witty banter among the cast who treat each other like family, impossible odds, and impressive action pieces, I have to say that this really does feel like the X-Men. If that makes any sense. The humour itself really goes a long way to make this just that more enjoyable.

Also enjoy the simmering sub-plot of the younger mutants. And there goes Beast, always doing the stupid thing.

RB Silva and Adriano Di Benedetto take over the art chores for this chapter. Although I can’t say I’m a fan of the approach that this series is taking to the rotating art teams (each issue has a different art team), as I’d prefer the teams in blocks similar to how Avengers: No Surrender dealt with it, for overall consistency in storytelling and visual appearance when read in one go, Silva and Di Benedetto deliver some very strong artwork. The action sequences with the dinosaurs is particularly impressive. How they handle the Madroxes is also great.

I’m not as sold on the new Betsy Braddock. I really appreciate the reversion to a variation on her original body and ethnicity, I think that was a change long in the making. I don’t know about her overall new design though. Her costume is kind of generic, and she herself just kind of seems...bland. I quite liked the appearance of the psychic sword and shield in the previous issue, and reminding everyone that’s she’s really British through the bloody dialogue last issue and mentioning Brian this issue are nice, but it still feels like more work needs to be done on defining who Psylocke is again.

There are some very nice uses of colour schemes for the various locations from Rachelle Rosenberg that help clarifying and delineate the sequences. It’s a nice, simple visual cue to help alleviate any possible confusion from scene changes.

While we’re still a little in the dark, the action and intrigue is entertaining and the tension in the plot feels palpable, just waiting for everything to explode overall. There are some nice character moments and an impression that all of the different corners of the X-universe are going to be touched upon at some point.

I’m definitely hooked to see where this going to go.

Quick Bits:

Domino #8 concludes, kind of, the vampire arc, though it feels like there should definitely be more coming somewhere down the line. Excellent artwork from David Baldeón and Jesus Aburtov. Aburtov’s colours this issue are particularly impressive, from the snow to rays of sunlight penetrating the ocean.

Exiles #10 brings the Thousand and One Nights arc to an end with a confrontation between the Exiles and Caliph Doom. All of the series has been great so far, but this one seems to really have elevated things. Saladin Ahmed, Javier Rodríguez, Álvaro López, Muntsa Vicente, and Joe Caramagna really seem to have gone all out on this arc.

Astonishing X-Men #17 concludes the series, tying a bow on the Reavers. Matthew Rosenberg gives us some nice character development for Havok and a rejuvenated Banshee.

Mr. & Mrs. X #5 concludes the first arc with some absolutely huge ramifications for Rogue. I’ve never really much liked Gambit, but Kelly Thompson is certainly bringing me around on him for this series, that’s a pretty huge accomplishment. Also, the art this issue from Oscar Bazaldua and Frank D’Armata is gorgeous.

Weapon H #10 has some stunning artwork from Guiu Vilanova and Morry Hollowell. Some of the layouts this issue as Morgan Le Fay drops some truth on the characters are amazing. Greg Pak delivers a few surprising revelations this issue, along with Weapon H’s full name. It’s a shame that this series is ending soon, since it continues to be an exciting and fun ride.

Weapon X #26 is one of the best issues yet from Greg Pak, Fred Van Lente, Luca Pizzari, Roberto Di Salvo, Frank D’Armata, and Joe Caramagna as the team goes to hell. Some interesting representations of each character’s hell and Sabretooth’s moral balance, but I think one of the most interesting things is the use of the 9-panel grids. It gives a feel that hell is ordered, structured, that all of the suffering has a design and is not just chaos.

The Unexamined: Secret Agent Deadpool #6

d. emerson eddy thinks it’s probably X-Man’s fault. It’s always X-Man’s fault. Unless it’s Beast’s. He’s pretty good at gumming up the works and perennially doing the wrong thing for the past decade or so too.

#Examinations #Uncanny X-Men #1&2 #Ed Brisson #Matthew Rosenberg #Kelly Thompson #Mahmud Asrar #RB Silva

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gilliansanderson · 7 years

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If Ever There Is Tomorrow; Chapter 1

An AU in which Mulder and Scully meet three times over the course of their lives; told in a series of vignettes.

Tagging @today-in-fic and fulfilling my @fictober promise. I also wanted to dedicate this one to all the lovely, talented people who helped me out during the @fic-files write-in, because without their support and feedback I probably would not have had the courage to put this out there.

1. As Time Goes By

Spring, 1993

The end of the 20th century is only the beginning. Change hits the nineties at a breakneck speed; Hair is getting bigger, technology is getting smaller, colors are getting brighter while the climate begins to suffer, but in the midst of a new era, some old skeletons are about to be unearthed. The third time they meet is the least bloody, yet opens more wounds. It comes, like the times before, suddenly and without warning.

Well, that’s not entirely true. Mulder had been given plenty of warning when Skinner had informed him he was being assigned a partner; A scientist who was to, no doubt, disprove his work and report back to the kind of men he was fighting. To keep him in line and keep him from going overboard. This hadn’t come as a surprise, he always knew the closer he got to the truth, the more curveballs they would throw his way. What made him almost fall out of his chair was the name, Dana Scully.

A name he couldn’t claim had never crossed his mind.

Dana Scully haunted him like an intrusive thought or the vague memory of a strange fever dream. She reminded him of a time he would much rather forget, yet the feeling lingered; the possibility that maybe one day, their paths might cross again. When he’d heard that she’d enlisted he found himself needlessly frequenting Quantico in the hope and the dread of catching a flash of ginger hair. Her thesis was printed and dog-eared the moment it was published; because challenging one of the greatest minds the world has ever known was something so quintessentially Dana Scully, and he was ever the masochist.

His hopes were not high; he didn’t expect her to accept this assignment, and he certainly didn’t suppose she would darken his basement door that very same day, but suddenly, here she is, smiling down on him from the high road.

“Agent Mulder,” she says quietly, with an air of disbelief, “I’ve been assigned to work with you,”

They shake hands like strangers, his fingers burn at her touch; the sensation lingers even after her hand falls away. She had always run as warm as her complexion, His summer girl had become fall. Her hair is darker, neatly tamed. She teeters precariously on heels that give her precious extra inches, that demand he looks her in the eye. Her ill-fitting tweed suit hangs awkwardly on her slender frame; the whole ensemble reminds him of a child playing make-believe. Hidden is her rebellious heart under sensible attire and a polite smile; the heart he knows he broke, and one he refuses to break again.

So he puts down his slides and puts up his guard.

“Isn’t it nice to be so highly regarded? So who’d you tick off to get stuck with this detail, Scully?”

For a moment she’s stunned, then the next she recovers, “Actually, I’m looking forward to working with you,” she tells him.

He responds with a bitter smile, “Oh really? I was under the impression that you were sent to spy on me.”

A fire sparks behind her eyes, she looks as if she was about to retort before he cuts her off. “I’m surprised you didn’t object to your placement, Scully, what with our tempestuous history,”

She hesitates, he hates that she hesitates, hates that he makes her hesitate. “I can’t say I wasn’t caught off guard,” she admits, “Though I knew it was a possibility we would run into each other when I started working at the Bureau…”

“Yes, this is interesting happenstance isn’t it, Doctor?” She tenses, Mulder stands and brushes past her in order to miss her patented Scully glare.

“If you’re suggesting that you played any part in any decision concerning my career…”

“I’m not suggesting anything, I just always supposed you’d be headed towards a Nobel prize by now, yet here you are wasting your talents in the basement with me,”

Scully blinks and tilts her pointed chin, “You think I’m wasting my talents here, Mulder?”

“It’s just that in most of my work, the laws of physics rarely seem to apply,” he shrugs and hits the lights. In the unearthly glow of his projector, Scully looks like a ghost.

He shows her the dead kids, barely older than they had been, once upon a time. He tells her his theories, she rebukes them with a smirk, slowly the ice begins to thaw and a familiar feeling begins to take root.

Then she leaves, and the basement feels darker and emptier than it ever had before. So Scully was back in his life and maybe, plausibly, this time she would stay. Mulder locks the office door behind him that evening and whistles the whole way home.

Fall, 1978

September in Connecticut, 1978 is record-breaking. The air as thick and hot as soup, her stiff collared shirt clings to her skin and dampens at the base of her neck. She wipes away the sweat beading on her forehead with the end of her ugly striped green tie and ignores the disapproving look her mother gives her.

Dana had always marvelled at how the air was always different in every new place they landed, she secretly ranked them from the icy unforgiving winds of the Scottish moors to the serene and exotic air of Japan. Greenwich so far was not doing too well on this list, however, it looked like she was going to have to get used to it. She had long since gotten used to the routine of neatly packing up her life in matching suitcases and burying a lunchbox in the backyard.

Melissa left a trail of broken hearts behind them like push pins in a map. Her sister had always been better at making friends, she claimed it had something to do with her aura, Dana wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, only that hers was probably broken. Usually, by the time she had started warming to people, her father would sit the four of them on the couch and tell them it was time to start saying goodbyes, so Dana eventually stopped trying to find people to say goodbye to.

She had her friends, they were called Mom, Ahab, Missy and Charlie. Sometimes Bill, when he wasn’t being a pain in the A Double-S. They were all she really needed. When she was very young, she even had an imaginary friend called Lucy, who took the form of a red squirrel. Lucy would curl up behind her hair and whispered secrets in her ear. Dana liked the fact that nobody else could see her, that she was hers and hers alone.

Sometimes she would pen a letter to the boy who had forgotten her, only to burn it in the bathtub with her mother’s lighter.

But still, her Mom always tried. She heard her arguing sometimes with her father that it wasn’t good for them, that kids needed stability. It looked like this year she had finally won the war and a house was bought, not rented.

She shifts uncomfortably as her bare thighs stick to the Principals rigid leather seats. The Principal in question was a tall British woman with large teeth, a sensible mousey bob and a collection of motivational animal posters. Dana catches the eye of a mournful kitten hanging from a curtain, encouraging her to Hang In There! and somehow feels even less optimistic.

“Now Diana, a little birdy told me that you’re especially talented at Science is that right, dear?” She smiles in a condescending way that makes Scully bristle. Bill snickers to her right, Missy kicks him in the shin on her behalf.

“It’s Dana, Ms Paterson,” Her mother corrects her patiently.

“Oh, my apologies, Dana.”

Dana represses the urge to roll her eyes, instead, begins to fiddle with the brand new chain around her neck. Naturally she was the last of the three to be enrolled, but unfortunately for her, also the one the school was most interested in.

“As I was saying, it seems you are just the model student, and if you don’t mind the extra work, we might be able to sign you up to the tutoring scheme, we have a nice young man who is in need of a little extra help in physics,”

Maggie nods encouragingly at her, clearly ecstatic at the prospect of her troubled young daughter making a friend. Dana tries feebly to muster her mothers’ enthusiasm,

“Sure, Miss, sounds… neat,”

“Wonderful,” she croons, “I hope you don’t mind, but I already took the pleasure of asking Fox to come by the office, so you could get to know each other,”

Dana’s hand stilled at the base of her throat, she felt her mother stiffen beside her, and her siblings’ squabbles fall silent. No. It couldn’t be that uncommon a name. “Fox?” she falters.

“Yes, quite an odd name isn’t it? He’s truly lovely boy, very very bright, unfortunately, he had to be held back a year…” Ms Paterson yammers on, but Dana had long since stopped hearing her words, as a minute later he appeared.

He was taller and lanky, the skin on his cheeks textured and he was in dire need of a haircut, but he was undoubtedly the same wide-eyed boy who had been her first real friend. And with wide eyes, he stares at her from the doorway, as if he couldn’t believe them himself.

“Scully?”

Framed by a halo of light from the hall, the image of him becomes blurred by the tears which spring to her eyes. Her chair falls backwards with a heavy thud as shoots to her feet. She mutters an apology to the baffled headmistress before she hurries from the room.

“Scully,” Mulder pleads, catching her hand as she darts past and clutches it tight. Electricity floods her veins. She looks into those familiar hazel eyes and pauses only a moment before she pulls her hand away and runs.

Summer, 1969

The summer of ‘69 is worthy of its song. Rock and Roll is at its peak, a man walks on the moon, and somewhere in New England, a lonely little boy meets a lonely little girl.

With a startled wail and a resounding thump, she falls out of a tree into his yard and into his life.

The day until that moment had been dull and unremarkable. Having escaped captivity and found refuge in his favourite spot, under a tall oak tree overlooking the tranquil sea; Fox William Mulder, seven and three quarters, jumps with a start and stares at the heap of limbs and hand me downs, as it groans then starts to giggle.

“Are you okay?” he asks, as his initial shock subsides.

“Yeah, yeah,” it says, “I’m fine,”

Dana Katherine Scully, six and a half, sits up to brush off the worst of the debris but lets out a sharp gasp as a lightning bolt of pain shoots through her wrist. However, being the tough cookie she was having grown up playing rough with William Scully Jr, the sprain was not enough to make her cry.

“You don’t look okay, you’re bleeding,” Mulder observes. She touches a hand to her mouth which sure enough, comes away red. Between them on the crisply trimmed grass lies a pearly white tooth. The ruffled girl picks it up and studies it curiously, tonguing the fresh gap in her gums, then tucks it into the pocket of her overalls.

“I guess you’re gonna see the tooth fairy,” he lisps, gesturing to his own missing front teeth. Her freckles dance as she wrinkles her nose.

“The tooth fairy isn’t real,” she replies, spitting scarlet on the ground and wiping her mouth on her arm, staining her skin like war paint.

“Is too, and so is Santa Claus,”

He offers a hand to help her to her feet, which she takes with a bloody, gap-toothed grin. This girl was brand new, he knew every fresh face in this small seaside town, and not one of them had ever smiled at him like that before. She’s all skinned elbows and scabby knees. She looks like she was spat out by the sun, with a fiery rat’s nest of auburn hair and a mischievous gleam in her bright blue eyes. He feels like Isaac Newton, hit on the head with the discovery of the century.

“You’re not from around here are you?” he asks.

She shakes her head, “No, we just moved here this week. My Dad’s gone to sea, I was trying to see his boat from up there when I slipped,” She replies, gesturing to the web of twisted branches above their heads.

“He’s a pirate?” he jokes; she quirks a little brow.

“No. He’s a Captain,”

“Captain Hook?”

Fox Mulder is still at the age where girls are kind of gross, but the sincerity with which this pretty tomboy laughs makes his ears turn red regardless. She was like a breath of fresh air after spending the whole day trapped inside a stuffy room, which incidentally he had.

“Fox,” he blurts at her, suddenly losing his cool.

“What did you call me?” she replies hotly, her un-injured hand flying self-consciously to her mussed red hair.

“No! my name is – “

“Fox!” They jump at the booming disembodied voice calling from the house a few meters away, “What in the hell are you doing?”

“Crap,” he mutters. Scully can’t help but flinch at the use of the word which would have cost her her dessert. “I’m supposed to be grounded, I think I’d better go,”

She tries not to be disappointed, but finds herself reluctant to say goodbye to this curious boy with a strange sense of humor, who believes in myths and fairy tales; but he makes no move to leave, equally unwilling to say goodbye to the girl who dresses like a boy and smells like the sea, who climbs trees and doesn’t cry when she falls. They eye each other hesitantly until finally, she breaks the silence.

“Your name is Fox?” she asks.

He makes a face, “Yeah, but I hate it. I like my last name better. It’s Mulder,”

“Mulder,” she tries it on her tongue and decides she likes the taste. She straightens her back and offers her hand like she’s seen adults do a thousand times before. “Ok. Nice to meet you, Mulder, my name’s Dana, but I guess you can call me Scully,”

“Scully,” he beams and takes her tiny, dirty hand in his. They shake in childish ignorance to how their stars had just aligned.

#If Ever There Is Tomorrow #txf fic #the x files fanfiction #msr fic #fictober #oh god im still so nervous to post this #i might throw up #this is my baby #no but thank god for the workshop or i probably would have just aborted #my stuff

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docfuture · 7 years

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The Maker’s Ark - Chapter 41

[This is a chapter from my latest novel, a sequel to The Fall of Doc Future and Skybreaker’s Call. The start is here, and links to my other work here. It can be read on its own, but contains spoilers for those two books. I try to post new chapters about every two weeks, but there will sometimes be short stories and vignettes if I don’t have a new chapter ready. The next chapter is planned for the week of November 27th.]

Previous: Chapter 40

There were tasks that Flicker shouldn't rush. She had discovered when she was quite young that she could only build or repair a machine so fast, or things would start breaking. And it was a good idea to take the effort to clean up and put all her tools away afterwards. She was still working on better ways to do something similar while assimilating her high speed mind. It was slower than stuffing everything into her flesh brain as fast as she could, but it helped with a whole set of chronic problems. But she finally reached a stopping point, so she slowed down and returned her awareness to her physical surroundings. "Better?" asked Donner in the dimness of the bedroom. "What?" Flicker hadn't realized he was awake. "I'm fine, just done for now. How could you tell?" "That deep breath and sigh." "Ah. It's a relief to get all my gestalt memories transferred into my human mind in an orderly way. Learning's bio-gestalt crew helped me out with some tricks for that. They've kind of adopted me, since I don't have a bio-gestalt group of my own. They're really nice. But I'm feeling all talkative now." "It's fine. I figured you'd have a few more things to say." "Yeah. I'm sorry you got scared by the nuke. Black Swan explained why she timed things so Journeyman and I weren't on Earth. And didn't warn us. I can tell you some of it. There was a lot she didn't tell me, because that would be against the EDU rules on custom she's following, and because-- Well, anyway. If you're interested." "I am," he said. Flicker could make out his grin in the faint light from the window. "But I'd listen even if I weren't. Talking when you're ready is part of how you cope." "Fair enough. So, it's really hard to arrange a believable alibi for me. Hard for Journeyman too; he's not as fast, but doesn't have to worry about closed doors. But doing something conspicuous, all day, on a moon of Jupiter, works for both of us. And that was politically handy for Black Swan because of what happened in Russia." "Because of who died?" "Because of who didn't. You know the guy calling for calm on that vid bit all the news programs showed?" "The deputy assistant foreign minister, or whatever?" "He was the highest ranking government official who knew picking a fight with Black Swan was stupid, and apparently was the only one with a reliable phone for a couple of hours. So he's acting president now. And will probably stay that way for a while--he won't start any wars, no one really hates him, and everyone will be afraid to try to assassinate him." "Because of Black Swan?" "Partly. But partly because of me. He was their superhero liaison person, I liked him, and people know it." "Wait, you know him?" "He was the diplomat I called to calm things down whenever I upset the Russians. I talked to him after my Moon dance--I think you heard part of that. He's not particularly honest, but he hasn't personally done anything horrible, and he's funny and good at defusing things. So he's probably as good as they can do for now. I'm not sure--I'm bad at politics compared to Doc, let alone Stella and Black Swan. But do you see why a lot of paranoid people in shock might think I had something to do with him becoming president if I didn't have an alibi? Black Swan wants them to blame her, not me." "Ah. Yeah." "Another reason for the timing was so that no one could ask me to stop Black Swan disabling all those missiles. I wouldn't have done it, but it saved me having to say no, or worrying about it. A third reason was because anyone thinking of waiting until I'm off Earth to try something now has to worry about Black Swan being three moves ahead of them. So I didn't stay upset at her for long." "Reasonable. But you said Journeyman was still pissed." "He was upset about a bunch of other things, too. One is Black Swan's fault--some Russian and Eastern European magicians are suddenly unemployed and want to talk to him urgently. And other people want to talk to him about them, also urgently. And he needed to brief Stella about some weird stuff those new aliens tried to do. He needs some time. That's why I came here to decompress. Sorry about the short notice." Donner grinned again. "I had DASI set up a 'Flicker warning level' alert for my phone a while ago. Works pretty well--I wasn't surprised. And Journeyman is still kinda recovering, isn't he?" "Not physically. Lif did a good job of healing him. But he's stressed because he needs to arrange for the tricky part of making the black hole--getting the construction subspace right. So there's this book he has to master that's been giving him nightmares." "Whoa. Like a Necronomicon or something?" Flicker laughed. "No. But he's a magician, not a physicist, the book is Chandrasekhar's The Mathematical Theory of Black Holes, and he's going to have to use it like a spellbook when he's changing the spell. DASI is helping him, but it's still scary." "Everything about making a black hole is scary to me. I mean, you're going to be carrying it around, right? What if you drop it? And where are you gonna put it when you aren't using it? It's not something you can stick in the garden shed with the lawnmower." "I don't plan to use it anywhere near Earth. And if I did, and dropped it, I'd just have to catch it again at apogee on the other side of the planet. I might have to dig a hole, but going through the Earth wouldn't slow it down much at first. It would only be a big problem long term. "Storage will be a bit messier. Journeyman should be able to make a different subspace for it that I can open without destroying. Probably. I'm still practicing. But Doc pointed out that the subspace will heat up, because the hole will be radiating and the radiation won't have anywhere to go. So I might get a big blast of energy when I pull it out if I haven't used it for a while, unless Journeyman pulls off another trick." "Hoo boy. I can see why he's having nightmares. I'm just glad I can help you with yours." "About that." Flicker took a deep breath. "I don't know much about the music stuff, but when Osk talks to you about healing, listen. I'd have recovered full function in my hand a lot quicker if I had. And if she asks you to practice, practice. Because the person you're practicing for could be me." "You think you might get badly hurt fighting whatever is coming?" "I don't know. But Golden Valkyrie told me something that gets scarier every time I think about it. I could win--and still have my flesh and blood body be gone, because the energy levels just got too high. Osk and some others are helping make arrangements in case that happens. But they might need your help putting me together again. You can call my mind back." "Oof. Like after I screwed up and Skybreaker took over your body?" "The emulation, yeah. But this would be harder, because Golden Valkyrie is gone. She won't be pushing things in the background, like she has for most of my life. It would be up to you and whoever else can help." Donner was quiet for a moment. "Practice. Got it. I can do that." "Thank you." Flicker put her arms around him in the darkness and just held him for a while. ***** Doc awoke in the darkness, alone. No nightmares--but a lifetime had given him a dark appreciation of them; reality was almost always an improvement. Not so much, lately. It was possible that his old nightmares were gone for good. The last try had yielded a few garbled fragments that were possibly relevant--Europa instead of Europe, a black hole singularity instead of The Singularity--but nothing predictive. Nothing he could use to plan. And Stella was right; he'd structured his life around the direct and indirect information in them to a degree that required adjustment when they stopped. He ran his set of post-nightmare self checks. This was still data--Stella was spending the night in an EDU ship in orbit, therefore her physical presence nearby was not necessary to stop whatever mix of the old nightmare signals were still arriving. She had given up on finishing their talk after Journeyman's interruption. Morning would do. Tonight had hadn't been an ideal time for the separation test, but when was? Emergencies didn't wait their turn. And it was past time to start planning for the consequences if it became politically untenable for the Director of the EDU to stay at his headquarters. It was officially Deep Kingdoms territory--Sealord had made it his embassy--but the US government could revoke that. Not unlikely, if there was a war. Doc might have to move, too, but his options weren't the same as Stella's. He checked the clock. 1:30 AM and he was wide awake, nightmare or not. There were other preparations to make. Also overdue, since causing unnecessary stress for the Director of the EDU made what should have been a personal decision--not. He had data--important data--that he was perhaps not giving the weight he should. Because... Well that was the question, wasn't it? He was just as good at rationalizing as he was at rational thinking, and over-optimization could be a deadly trap if he moved out of the region of relevance. No time like the present. "DASI?" "Yes, Doc?" "Any pending alerts?" "No." "Estimate a bound on the chance Flicker will do something dramatic or transit a portal in the next two hours." "Less than 1%." "Well then. Set alert interrupt level red plus. Exception: Breakpoint. Secure instance, nightmare privacy level. Engage mindscreens." "Verified." "Emergency timeloop guard; I'm thinking of a number--give me a four digit random integer." "9291." "No match. Good. Set probability manipulation canary, timeloop canary, oracle canary." "Set." "Okay, we'll give Breakpoint a little bit to see if he gets a sudden urge to call and warn me I'm about to make an apocalyptic mistake." Doc picked up the headset from the nightstand and called up the appropriate notes from the secure section. He hadn't even looked at them in a long time. This wasn't going to be pleasant. "Any changes?" he asked. "None so far," said DASI. "All right. We're going to do a psychological bias renormalization, including nightmare context integration. Primary known change: Golden Valkyrie is no longer wearing the Skystone. Starting changed assumption: Golden Valkyrie is currently causally unlinked from Earth. No preconception whether she will return to this worldline, if it survives. Secondary changed assumptions: Her last words to Flicker and Journeyman, and any consistent bias changes you've seen since the removal of my primary block and the loss of my top-level augments." "Noted." Safe travels, Fairhair. If you did give me a parting gift, I hope I'm not about to throw it away. ***** Alep could finally verify the target as he closed, despite the distortion. His mind was sluggish from the damping needed to properly perceive this unnatural worldline, but his body was not. His weapons were ready, and he repeated the command for the others to follow--after all the rigors of their voyage, the goal was finally within their grasp. Baht was shouting something, but the quantum froth stole her meaning. <Alep!> <Gem! Where are you? You must--> <No. Consult your anchor core. Now.> <We don't have time! The target will--> <The target is not here. Consult your core.> Could the distortion be that bad? The damping made it hard to think. Alep slowed reluctantly, to send the necessary attention inward to his causality anchor core, his safety self. And found his perceptions shifting as he did. He stopped, then followed Gem back to a nearby simply-connected space, where Baht waited. He tasted their concern. <Another damned echo!> he said. <Yes,> said Baht. <Was there self-echoes, too?> <A self-echo and an entire false target line.> <At least we know we're in the right domain,> said Gem mordantly. <This domain is a maze of twisty little worldlines, all subtly different!> said Baht. <So much looping cannot be natural,> said Alep. <The inhabitants have weaponized their own worldline topology.> They were close to the target--and far. How far was hard to tell. Causality drift meant they each had to renormalize periodically, assisted by the others. The return to self was not always smooth, and Alep had waited longer than he now knew was advisable. <Harnessed it, certainly,> said Gem. <But weaponized? I sense more than that, in the patterns.> <It killed Explorer's Aspect,> said Baht. <I am certain of it. She was trying to map the hazard. She did not lose focus, she kept it too long--until drift and madness finally took her. The same could happen to us.> <We should go back,> said Gem. <This tangle maze cannot possibly propagate over a domain boundary, so it is no threat. And no parasites will escape either--they would get pulled in and eaten, just like Explorer.> <No,> said Alep. <We will follow the probe echoes. We are not alone--we can assist each other, and endure that long. When we reach the primary line of the probe eater, we will end it, and return.> <What there is of us by then,> said Baht. <We are no longer who we were. The ages here have changed us. My own anchor core tastes strange.> <But you have not lost purpose.> <No.> <Good. We go on.> ***** Doc looked up from his handcomp as Stella entered the room. Sunlight streamed in from the windows, and service bots had arranged a selection of food for her if she was hungry for brunch after her flight. Doc had already eaten. "How are the Xelians and the Grs'thnk?" he asked. "Quite well," she said, and sat down across from him. "Hiri is a proper pessimist--he's been helping with the emergency shelters for the support ships. They weren't designed for the Moon's gravity, but he knows some tricks to minimize damage from that. Cheered me up a bit. But the Grs'thnk Auditors noted the lack of experience of modern Earth nations with definitively ending wars lost by sudden governing authority death." "Well, Black Swan called attention to that problem in a way that's hard to ignore," said Doc. "I'm sure the US continuity of government people will have a few questions for me when we finally meet. DASI said everyone in their working group is taking her prep briefings very seriously, which is an encouraging sign." "Oh yes. So. Have you accepted that you are no longer on the critical path for black hole construction, if you ever were?" "I have." Doc looked down, then back up. "I did a proper psych bias recheck last night." Stella raised an eyebrow. "A full one? You look like you got at least some sleep. Although--" "I took everything apart, but I haven't put it all back together yet. I knew we'd have to go over most of it again, anyway." He gestured at his cheekbone. "The bruise is from sparring with robots very early this morning. That let me sleep afterwards." "Interesting. I'd have expected you to go to your workshop." "I took three steps and already had an idea for a contra-anthropic timeloop-powered deadzone bomb that would be lethal to anything that lives in more than four dimensions from two universes away. And another one for a hunting portal Journeyman could open for me that would require a black hole to permanently seal to preserve loop consistency with Golden Valkyrie's predictions." "That seems excessive." "I doubt I'd actually be able to build it. But even trying would be a very bad idea. Self-destructive anger was the good reason for my old cognitive safety block. Much wiser to go beat up robots for a while instead." Doc looked down again. "I think I've done pretty well working with you professionally. Personally... 'I'm sorry' isn't close to enough. The entity collective that synchronized my coherent nightmares was, on average, an utter bastard. I've been finding surprising and unpleasant ways I've let that shape me." Stella smiled wryly. "Well, we have time to talk. A day of unavailability will be politically useful for me. Ashil's portal work seems to be going well, Flicker and Journeyman are resting, and DASI, Three, and Learning can handle anything else that comes up. And fixing the problems is more important than fault. I had personal issues long before we met." Doc snorted. "This whole timeline has issues." Stella looked thoughtful. "Yes. But I do find that hunting portal idea of yours interesting." "Oh?" "Just thinking about distractions, traps, parasitism, and what Golden Valkyrie did the last time she was pregnant."

Next: Chapter 42

#Maker's Ark #FallofDocFuture #FallMisc

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cooperjones2020 · 7 years

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What’s Past is Prologue, What to Come, pt. 6

Summary: He wanted to hit whoever made Betty cry. He wanted to hit Betty so she’d keep crying. Interrelated vignettes from Jughead Jones’s obsession with Betty Cooper. Dark!Jug, Creepy!Jug, Stalker!Jug, generally Sociopathic!Jug.

A/N: Complete :) There’ll be one more one-shot to tie-off the series posted on Friday. But it will be more along the lines of Marked than of this fic. Prepare yourselves, because Dark!Betty comes out to play.

TW: implied violence (for this chapter specifically, check the other tags on ao3)

(parts one / two / three / four / five)

ao3—> http://archiveofourown.org/works/11394858/chapters/26675151

Every town has one. The house on the haunted hill all the kids avoid. Now that Jason was buried in the earth, it would only be a matter of time until something poisonous bloomed in that long, cold shadow cast by his death. Whatever grew in the rich black soil of the Blossoms’ garden always found its way to the town. Whether it was murder or love or secrets or lies.

He loved the murder board. He loved that Betty had touched every single piece of it. Earlier, when he was in the Blue and Gold office alone, he had run his fingers over every photograph, every scrap of paper, every tangled strand of red string, willing his fingertips to absorb the oils from her skin.

After the memorial, after Betty cornered her father about his conversation with Clifford Blossom, they returned to the office to regroup. He leaned back against a desk and watched her a few feet away from him as she grappled with the splintered fragments of her family.

“Juggie, I feel like I don’t even know who my mom and dad are anymore.”

“Betty,” he stood and moved toward the murder board. “If your parents lied about Jason and Polly, there’s probably more that they lied about.” He turned back to look at her.

“What do you mean?” She moved to follow him. He’d dealt with Trev, but now he wanted something from her. Some sign that they were in this together.

“Your dad said he would do anything to protect Polly. So the next logical question is, how far would he go to protect her?” He turned to the table in front of the board and grabbed an index card.

“Jughead, whoever broke into Sheriff Keller’s house and stole all his evidence wasn’t at the drive-in.” She looked at him with her big green eyes shining. He could imagine the look of the tears he knew she was holding back. “My dad wasn’t at the drive-in.” He handed her the index card and watched to see what she would do. With just a moment of hesitation, she pinned it right smack dab in the center, below Jason’s yearbook picture. God, he was proud of her. He pushed her over that barrier and she let him. He wanted to scoop her up in a hug and to devour her.

Instead, he said, “We need to talk to Polly.” Betty took a deep breath and gave him a wobbly nod. His heart slowed and beat thickly, as if submerged in maple syrup, as he watched her. The string between her and her parents was pulled taut. It would be easy to snip. It would be one more string he could hoard for himself.

On the first night he spent in the janitor’s closet at school, after the drive-in closed, the third thing he did was seek out Betty’s locker. He’d stolen a set of maintenance keys a few weeks ago and had a copy to the school’s front doors made, just in case. The drive-in had a cot, but it didn’t have a shower. And they’d stopped running water to the bathrooms at the campground when it had closed for the season on the first of September.

So the first thing he did was take a shower. The second thing he did was break into the cafeteria kitchen and scrounge up some dinner. Then he headed down the hallway with the science classrooms.

She’d had the same combination since sixth grade: Polly’s birthday. He rummaged through her locker for anything new, anything that could add to the store of Betty Cooper trivia he kept locked inside him.

He already knew about the Neosporin in the pink pencil box on the top shelf. But when he opened it, the tube was almost empty. It might have been that way for a while. There’s no way she’d used that much this early into the school year—she probably brought an old half-used tube from home anyway. But still. He wanted to slice the scars off her palms.

He replaced the pencil box and reached for the stack of notes besides it. He unfolded their intricate shapes and pressed them flat before scanning each one. All from Veronica and Kevin. All useless.

“No one cares you can’t get dick, Kev,” he whispered under his breath as he struggled to re-fold the notes.

Then, he reached over her school books and slid his hand down the back wall of the locker to see if anything had fallen. But rather than the detritus of further notes and to-do lists he expected, he found two slim books. One, the worn copy of The Story of O he’d caught her reading a few weeks ago. He hadn’t believed the story she fed Cheryl about writing an exposé on book banning. So he pocketed it to look at later, in the luxury of his closet. The other, the small pink book he recognized as her diary. Jackpot.

It was only about a two-thirds full but the last entry seemed to be from a few days before — a description of her showdown with Archie outside Pop’s. Odd. She normally wrote in it every day. He flipped back to the first entry, the day she arrived in LA, and began to scan, until his own name grabbed his attention.

I finally got Jug to talk to me. He’s been avoiding me since I got back. I don’t know what happened with him and Arch over the summer — though it seems to be better now — but he better get it through his thick skull that Archie has no business in our relationship. Whatever Archie did to him doesn’t affect him and me. He looks skinnier. Last night at Pop’s, I convinced him I was full so he’d eat the rest of my fries. I wonder if he’d be offended if I offered to pack him a lunch. A lump formed in his throat that he didn’t understand. But when he turned the page, the rest of the entry devolved into a description of cheerleading routines.

A few pages later something else caught his eye:

I think some of my clothes have gone missing. If Polly were here, I’d swear she’d stolen them, but she’s not so that can’t be it.

Sometime around early September, mentions of Archie, and especially her feelings for Archie, had dropped off sharply. Simultaneously, her mentions of him had grown. He tried not to read anything into it. It was probably just because of the paper. He was around her more so of course she would think about him more. Write about him more.

But then,

Dear Diary,

It happened again. I’m losing time. I remember talking to Chuck at Pop’s and making the plan with Veronica and Ethel. But I don’t remember showing up at Ethel’s house. I don’t remember calling him Jason. And I don’t know where I got the black wig.

This hasn’t happened since I was in LA. I had hoped it was some freaky coincidence brought on by not enough humidity and too much green juice. I don’t know what to do or who I can even tell.

Who will I be if I let go?

Sometimes Jughead looks at me as if he knows.

That was it. She ended the entry and then the next one was about Archie and Grundy. Fuck.

Channeling all his darkness into his obsession with Betty Cooper allowed Jughead to maintain a thin veneer of normalcy. That she might be doing the same to him…

The needy beast of a thing in his chest roared to life.

Most days, he does a pretty good job at seeming normal. Well, not normal. Reggie likes to call him things like Donnie Darko and Wednesday Adams, but, still, he manages to keep most of his darkness on the inside.

But all of these days from the past swirl in Jughead’s mind as he lets himself into the Andrews’ garage and commandeers Fred’s ladder. The day he met Betty. The day Betty burned her arm making him cookies. The day she got grounded for losing her American Girl doll. The day he set Nancy Drew on fire. The first day he saw her topless. The day she drove away from Riverdale in a wood-panelled station wagon. The day she asked him to join her on the Blue and Gold. The day the drive-in closed. The day he found her diary. The day she went on a “date” with Trev Brown.

Polly had accidentally scratched Betty’s cheek when the orderlies were dragging her out of their hug earlier. Jughead spent the car ride home fighting the urge to lick the blood off her face.

She would pine after Archie. She would “date” Trev. She would kiss Veronica. But her darkness is his. Today, she will pick him. He has a plan.

She sits at her vanity, fingering her necklace and staring at the floor when Jughead gets to the top of the ladder beneath her window. He wraps gently on the closed glass and her head turns, ponytail whipping behind her. He can tell she’s surprised, but her face quickly gives way to a smile as she rushes over to open the window.

“Hey there, Juliet. Nurse off duty?” She steps back so he can climb in. “You haven’t gone full ‘Yellow Wallpaper’ on me yet, have you?”

Betty’s voice is rough, as if she’s been crying. “They’re crazy. My parents are crazy.”

“They’re parents. They’re all crazy.”

“No, but what if—what if Polly is too?” Betty stammers. “The way she was talking to me, the way she looked at me. And now all I can think is, maybe I’m crazy like they are.” She’s spiralling. Jughead puts a hand on shoulder and he feels some of the tension drain out as she sighs, as his touch does that to her.

“Hey. We’re all crazy.” He looks into her eyes, willing her to know what he knows. To know they’re alike. She smiles at him and looks at the floor.

When he speaks, her eyes drift back up. “We’re not our parents, Betty. We’re not our families.” He might be imagining it, but he thinks her eyes pause on his lips on their journey back to the floor. “Also—”

“What?” she whispers. She stares into his eyes again as he flicks his gaze all over her face. “What?” she asks again, louder. She smiles at him with half of her mouth and raises one eyebrow.

He takes her face in his hands and kisses her. When she doesn’t pull back right away, the monster inside him cheers. Then when she kisses him back, he sighs and it settles into a contented purr.

She breaks the kiss, “The car!”

He smiles at her and raises his eyebrows. “Wow. That’s what you were thinking about in the middle of our moment?” If he hadn’t just felt the insistent pressure of her lips against his own, he’d be more upset. But he knows, better than anyone now, how Betty’s mind works.

“No. Polly talked about a car Jason had stashed for them down Route 40. Near some sign? If we can find it, we can confirm Polly’s story.”

“Well, one way or another.”

“I need to know, Juggie.” Then she leans forward and presses another soft kiss against his lips. He’d do anything for her. He’d kill for her. Of course he’ll go looking for the damn car with her. Because now, he’s got her. He’s finally got the real life Betty doll.

#bughead fanfiction #riverdale fanfiction #bughead #betty x jughead #betty cooper #jughead jones #mine #wpip #canon compliant #tw: implied violence

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roughdreamprototype · 6 years

Text

News on Rough Dream

I’m working on the real thing. I’m doing the so called ‘name-no-name’ or sketch storyboard of the whole serie (It should be 21/24 chapters long, 7 or 8 volmes, as I felt from the start. Each chapter should be 48 pages long - because I like having all chapter of equal lenght - typical of western comics), and I plan to pubblish it. I found open-minded publisher. I will not show and contact them until I will not finish the sketches of the whole thing and the chapter one (they need to see at least the first chapter, also I don’t want to rush), but I will let you read the first chapter for free.

This is the detailed sketch of the first page. I just wanted to see how it could turn out in a more detailed form (the resolution is still too low), and if is readable enough. I don’t have so clear ideas of the third vignette yet, but I have an idea about how it is supposed to flow. I edited this page today because captions were unnecessary, and the commentators of the wrestling company already say (underline) what is needed ( I didn’t wrote about the Key Arena, but i think is necessary).

A problem I’ve read comics have is about the coldness of pre made balloons and fonts. So I decided to use the premade balloons and fonts as base, then i will trace them, to remove the coldness (the same reason I normally tend to draw straight lines free hand).

Yesterday I’ve read an interesting study about Japanese comics (RD will follow a shonen-like storytellyng with a western-ish drawing style that will allow me to make my characters more specific and recognizable each other), and it was interesting that the mystery behind the lack of background in some vignette, and why the same-face syndrome.

The open vignette thing was rather easy to understand (open vignettes makes you feel more part of the story, but also lead the eye more easily) but I didn’t realized that

- Lack of background was to emphatyze emotions in characters - in the prototype I drew a couple of vignettes without background for this reason, but I didn’t understand the importance

- Same face syndrome is a matter of psychology. When we see people, we can see clearly their face, but we can’t see our own face (except on mirrors) and we only imagine roughly the shape of our faces. Making characters so generic is a way to force the reader to identify with them. Background characters tend to be more characterized because artists don’t want people identifying in them. On this topic I prefer my way. I always wanted to see what could be the specific face of certain characters. In some cases is hard to distinguish them. Also I’m more drawn to more specific characters. When I see a group of characters that have different faces and body types, like those thugs from a Toriyama’s comic...

...I wonder about what story each of them has to tell, and I get more curious. Characters that look the same feel more predictable.

I practice hard at drawing faces, I want my OCs from Rough Dream (but also from future comics I plan) being one different than the other, both the face and the body type. For this I draw a lot of specific people when I practice. Then I redraw them from memory, their face gets modified by the failure of human memory (But also I try to draw the faces more pleasant and readable), but at least each character has his own face, his own eyes and so on.

I will read that study again, as is very useful to me. Then i will have a clearer idea about what to do, what to keep and what to do just following my preferences.

Above - Seattle, where RD starts. Brian’s hometown has it’s own ‘mount Fuji’ on the background. It’s name is Rainier, and is also a tall, snowcapped dormant volcano. In this photos the Space Needle and the top of the Key Arena (where Brian debuts) are visible.

#rough dream #rough #dream #wrestling #name-no-name #sketch #storyboard

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papofglencoe · 8 years

Note

Tag you're it! Please read a chapter, drabble, one shot, or whatever and leave a review for the writer with your thoughts! We could all use a little positivity as we head back into another week :) Tag five others when you're done! Thank you 😙

Happy International Fanworks Day, C! (So says AO3 anyway)

Karma by @pookieh: This was the steamy third installment (I won’t say final because I’m too greedy to accept that) of Pooks’ coffee shop modern AU drabble. And the girl did not disappoint. The first two chapters were fraught with sexual tension (hotter than a steaming cup of coffee), and here it all, uh, comes to ah, um, head. It’s a Smutternaut (aka smut juggernaut).

Galone’s Valentine by @mega-aulover: I’m a sucker for some Galone comedy, and Rachel delivered, from squeaky shoes and tight pants to a tie dredging in a bowl of soup. I had the biggest grin on my face the entire time... how can one character’s suffering bring such innocent, uncomplicated joy? Oh, but it does.

Love Is... Unexpected by @peetabreadgirl: This is another wonderful case of Galone striking out before he even gets on that blind date. I love the set up to this story, and there was something so heartbreakingly sweet and wonderful about Peeta eating dinner alone on Valentine’s Day, unknowingly waiting for the love of his life to mistakenly stumble into his life. Beautifully told.

Behind Blue Eyes by @maxwellandlovelace: Cashmere, Peeta’s horrid ex, shows up to wreak all kinds of havoc in the latest chapter, and I want to smash a bottle and get into a bar brawl with her. This story has the perfect blend of sweetness and bitterness, smut and angst, and I just want Everlark to love each other and be okay... but when is life ever that simple? Tina’s doing a wonderful job developing Everlark’s relationship as they come to terms with the ghosts of their pasts, some of whom refuse to stay there.

Everdeen Vineyards by @muttpeeta: Amy dropped this Valentine’s Day surprise at the 11th hour, I think. *Crows with delight*. Peeta shows up at the grand re-opening of Katniss’ family vineyard, and wouldn’t you know he gets a private tour of the entire estate? *wink* This was a combination of two of my favorite things, Everlark and wine, beautifully executed by one of my favorite authors, and an all-around mensch.

Five Hearts and untitled ficlet by @jeeno2: Jenn’s been writing Everlark, guys. Let me repeat this. Jenn’s been writing Everlark. 2016 was a turdfest, 2017 might be the apocalypse, but this fact alone has me singin’ in the rain. The first fic is friends-to-lovers, told over five different Valentine’s Days... say no more. (Where’s that gif of Jason Momoa busting out the lawn chair?), and the second fic involves Everlark meeting at a wedding. (Crawls on Jason Momoa’s lap with a boxed wine and drinking straw). Keep ‘em coming, lady. I’ve been loving the show.

The Nine Times Peeta Mellark Fell In Love by @the-peeta-pocket: This isn’t a new story by any means (I think I was traveling abroad the week this came out, in fact), but I just discovered it on AO3 while creepin’ on Faith’s stories. Nine vignettes of Peeta falling back (or more?) in love with Katniss after his hijacking... told with such agonizing beauty I want to cut my heart out with a spoon.

No Baggage by @lvfics: Bri originally wrote this for MoreS2SL and is in the process of revising and posting to AO3... and I’m loving it. It’s a crime caper... Peeta is a wealthy business on the lam in Europe, and he encounters a mysterious woman on the train. Her WIP Meadow Lake Country Club, by the way, is also a must-read.

Extension Request by @deinde-prandium: I don’t know how a fluffy, sweet comedy can have me hanging on tenterhooks, but I am. Katniss gets her wisdom teeth pulled and sends an unfortunate email to a certain blue-eyed TA. I am as mortified as she is waiting for his response.

Masquerade by @belladonnablush: This was written back in 2013, but I chanced upon it the other day and holy. hell. is. it. hot. I’m a sucker for a well-written, smutty modern AU. (And Halloween to boot!)

@eala-musings: I’m beta-reading Carolyn’s new WIP at the moment, a crossover of three texts. Can’t really say much more about it except you’re gonna love it... as always, she masterfully adapts the source material and captures the heart and soul of Everlark. Her attention to detail... it’s staggering. In the meantime, you should brush up on her other stories if you haven’t already!

Special shout outs to @everlart, @ombradellaluna, @akai-echo, for some of their art work that has cropped up on my dash the past week, too. Whether it’s adorable, blushing Everlark (that first kiss!!!!), Everlark at home in the bath, or hundreds of banners, you’ve made the fandom so beautiful with your art. I’m not an artist, but I’ve spent hours pouring over your work, admiring the details, and staring in awe at something I could never do in a thousand years.

Next up on my docket... catching up on the recent chapters of @mtk4fun‘s latest WIP, Everything But Money and @katnissdoesnotfollowback‘s WIPs Pure and Leading Suspects.

And of course to you, @everllarkingnewtina, for your recent chapter of Bride and Fortune! You’re taking your readers on a mad cap spin of THG/Pride and Prejudice/Bride and Prejudice. Get hustlin’ on the next chapter while you’ve got your fightin’ spirit. ;)

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #ficrecs #everllarkingnewtina

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therothwoman · 8 years

Text

TV: The Doctor Who Chapter (To Have a Home, chapter 5)

Words: 3,387

Relationship: Stucky

Characters: Bucky, Steve, with brief cameos from Natasha and Sam.

Content warnings: Bucky gets triggered and has a panic attack, but through outside help and his own coping mechanisms he pulls through just fine.

Summary: Warm. Pictures. Company. Stray. TV. Share. Loved. Months after the events of Re-establishing Contact, a security mishap forces Steve and Bucky to be placed in different apartments at distant ends of the city. With a small but brand-new place to call his own, functional in society but still laying low and still wrestling with voices in the night, Bucky begins building a new home. This is a story about friendship, love, photography, books, movies, television, cats, prank wars, and having somewhere to go in times of need. This is a year in the life of Bucky Barnes. (New tags added with new chapters. This fic can be read as a complete story or as a series of vignettes. Each chapter’s opening notes will state chapter-specific tags.)

Chapter: Bucky decides to check out some 21st century sci-fi television and gets just a little bit more than he bargained for.

Notes: In which I take a few steps further and get Even More Self-Indulgent than the Pokemon scene from Re-establishing Contact. As a geeky BA-in-English-holder and certified Whovian, futzing around with reactions and thematic parallels between my favorite media like this was probably inevitable. Add to that the fact that Simmons referencing the TARDIS in Agents of SHIELD means that Doctor Who does exist as an actual series in the MCU. So I figured hey, why not make it a bit of a narrative? When I was first writing this chapter, it was mostly in the form of Bucky's text reactions to each season. But then I got stuck as I approached Season 6-8 because I felt like I knew them a lot less intimately (even though I watched them when they aired). Also, I didn't want to overwhelm non-Whovian Stucks with what was essentially turning into Twitter Who: Bucky Barnes Edition. To compromise, I've set those aside in a separate fic.

Chapter-specific tags: Television Watching, doctor who - Freeform, Panic Attacks

From the beginning

Previous chapter

On AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8353570/chapters/21823745

Bucky: [Okay I just finished the first episode.]

Bucky: [We’ve already got alien time travelers, some sort of space war, murder mannequins, and exploding buildings.]

Bucky: [I’m not sure how much crazier this show can get.]

Sam: [oh]

Sam: [oh man you just wait]

It had started with a fairly simple question. While Banks the cat did a good job of keeping Bucky company during the day, his presence had not stopped Bucky’s nightmares. He hadn’t reasonably expected it to, though. There was a decrease, and Bucky having something warm and freely affectionate to hold in the aftermath every time was certainly a blessing, but he still kept up his repertoire of staying up and doing something to keep his mind and/or body active for a bit before attempting sleep again, if at all. During a group video call, Bucky brought up a desire for something a little more structured.

“Whenever I need a distraction by turning on the TV, I always just watch whatever’s on,” he said. “I’d like something to actually watch, something that I can keep up with and get engaged in.”

There was a smattering of affirmative murmurs before Natasha said, “Easy enough, what are you interested in watching?”

Bucky considered for a moment. “Hmm. I want…something with adventure. Something about the little guys beating the odds. Something that doesn’t take itself too seriously but respects the weight of a situation when it needs to. Something with love. Something with…” His eyebrows lowered, thoughtfully. “Something with a home base. Someplace the characters can always come back to.”

The others looked contemplative for a second before Steve snapped his fingers. “I know one I’ve been enjoying.”

Sam smirked. “Are we thinking of the same one?”

“Is it the same one I stopped watching after Season 6?” asked Natasha.

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

And then all three of them in unison: “Doctor Who.”

For the most part, it was a great time. Bucky actually found himself watching it of his own accord instead of for nightmare balm more often than not. He loved all the characters and the wild stories, identified with some, and took offense at others (he had some angry caps-lock words to say about the two-parter that took place in 1930’s New York). If there was one issue he did have, it was with any story that involved memory erasure or reality alteration. And there were a number of those. He was fine through Human Nature and The Family of Blood, because there was an established sure-fire way for the Doctor-turned-John-Smith to be returned to his old self in a moment. The ending of Journey’s End, with poor Donna and her forced mind-wipe, was a significantly tougher sequence to go through. The one episode he couldn’t bring himself to finish at all was Amy’s Choice, because it was one thing to have an entire episode about switching between two perceived realities and being forced to determine which one was real, but the event’s orchestrator looking like the spitting image of Arnim Zola was a step too far. Still, ever-eager to know what happened next, he pressed on.

Nearly two hours later, his shaking fingers were hastily tapping to Steve’s number on his phone. The dial tone rang twice before Steve picked up. It had been months since Bucky was so relieved to hear his voice.

“Steve, I just…it was the ending of Cold Blood,” Bucky stumbled, trying to keep breathing. “…Rory died…Amy had to watch him die…and then he got swallowed by the crack…Steve, the universe itself made her forget him. She…she was willing to die instead of live in a world without him…yes I know, I looked up the rest of that episode…but I just…Steve…when I fell off the train…when you fell into the river…what if we’d…Jesus, Steve, I can’t…I just can’t…” He heard Steve trying to make reassuring noises over his anxious chattering.

“Hey hey hey, listen, Buck,” Steve said, “first of all, there’s no crack in the universe that’s going to make us forget each other…”

“But the technology…!”

“…was destroyed with that arm of Hydra. Second,” Steve continued, “I’m coming over now. You haven’t sounded this bad in weeks. Third, can I tell you a spoiler if it’ll help you feel better?”

Bucky nodded, even though Steve couldn’t see him. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

“Okay,” said Steve. “Rory comes back.”

Bucky was amazed that he had the mental energy to be puzzled. “O-kay…I’ll question it later. But yeah, c’mon over, I’m so sorry that…”

“Bucky,” Steve interrupted, “whatever you’re about to apologize for, you don’t need to. Just hang tight for a bit, okay? I’ll be right there.”

“I will, thanks.”

They wrapped up, and Bucky went to turn on the lights as he brought up the next episode of a podcast he’d been enjoying to put on as background noise. He scooped up Banks from the towel-cushioned cardboard box he’d fashioned as a cat bed (cheaper and more likely to actually be used than a real cat bed, according to the Internet) and sat back down on the couch to stroke the purring fluffball while listening to the animated rambling of the two podcast hosts. It was nice to have a source of such variety of listening in one show, with topics as mixed as flags and computers and human consciousness and promoting widespread availability of those little plastic sticks you used to plug up the hole in your coffee lid. He did tend to get a bit unsettled when the Australian guy talked about plane crashes with such zeal. Bucky usually skipped those segments when they came up. Thank god the American host wasn’t going on another lecture about how free will was probably an illusion, because Bucky really didn’t think he could handle that right now. It was about one podcast episode later when the intercom finally buzzed. Banks vacated Bucky’s lap as the less-distressed man went to let Steve in.

“Hey,” said Steve as he entered.

“Hi.”

“C’mere.” Bucky welcomed Steve’s warm embrace and the soothing hand rubbing his back, feeling the solidness of touching and knowing that Steve really was there and wasn’t about to vanish into a crack in time and space and make Bucky forget about him for another seventy years, or worse. They moved to lie down on the couch and just held each other for a while, Bucky stroking Steve’s shoulder blade with his right hand while Steve breathed calmly for him and gave Bucky occasional kisses to the forehead. Bucky had half a mind to reach up and try to drape the blanket over them, to just let them sleep in the comfort of each other’s company, but the thought kept nagging at the back of his mind: seriously, how the hell did Rory come back from the dead?

“Y’know,” he said at last, “I kinda still want to watch the next episode.”

Steve had his left hand in Bucky’s hair, giving him fond scratches around his crown. He stopped and patted Bucky’s head. “Ordinarily I’d say you could stop here if you wanted,” he said, “but I actually do really think you should see Vincent and the Doctor. It’s…I dunno how else to put it…it’s a healing episode.”

“Alright,” said Bucky, turning over to set up the next episode. “Let’s do this.”

After the dire straits of the previous story, switching to the subject of a troubled artist in the French countryside occasionally tormented by an invisible space monster was a welcome change for Bucky. He found himself nodding solemnly at Vincent’s talk about how the others in the village treated him horribly because they believed him to be the cause of their problems. Bucky thought back to his days in Bucharest, how that looming sensation followed him everywhere he went: that feeling of do they know? Do they know what I am? What I was? Oh, the number of times he had expected something to be thrown at him, or for a crowd in front of him to suddenly bolt as he approached, or for a distant siren to herald a swarm of armed soldiers with their guns trained on him and ready to finish him off. The fact that the invisible space monster in the episode was, in death, revealed to be a scared, wounded, and lonely creature itself did not help much. But it was in the aftermath of that scene that Bucky began to understand what Steve meant by this being a “healing episode.” For those few days, Vincent didn’t have to face his demons alone. More importantly, he was given the incredible chance to take a trip forward in the TARDIS to see the effect his work would have on future generations; to be reminded that just because you don’t get to see the impact of your time on this earth in your lifetime, it doesn’t mean you didn’t have an impact at all. For a minute, Bucky was worried that the episode had shot itself in the foot with the reveal that the Doctor and Amy’s visit ultimately didn’t prevent Vincent’s suicide, but then the Doctor rolled out the “pile of good things” speech and Bucky started to get sniffle-y again.

“’The good things don’t always soften the bad things, but the bad things don’t always spoil the good things or make them unimportant,’” Bucky repeated once the episode was over. “That’s one hell of a line. Come to think of it, there’ve been a lot of great lines on this show. Maybe that’s my next collage project: a Doctor Who quote wall.”

“I’d love to see it when you’re done,” said Steve. “Oh hey, the sun’s coming up.”

Bucky looked away from the TV and towards the kitchen window where the first rays of dawn were shimmering outside. The start of a new day. “Huh. So it is. Only got three episodes of the season left, I think I’m gonna keep going. You staying or…? You can crash on my bed if you want.”

Steve yawned. “Why don’t I make us some coffee first?” He patted Bucky’s shoulder as he got up from the couch.

“Hope you like espresso, ‘cause that’s all I’ve got,” said Bucky.

They blazed through the rest of the season, musing on the themes of protecting those you love (and using temporary superhuman abilities to do so. “He waited two thousand years for her and you only waited about seventy for me? Jesus, step up your game, Rogers,” Bucky had quipped with a playful elbow to the ribs) and the idea of “if something can be remembered, then it can come back.”

“Wow,” said Bucky at the conclusion. “What d’you think, Steve? Remembering things just…brings them back?”

“Not that literally, that’s for sure,” said Steve. “But…what do memories do other than bring back echoes of events, people, feelings, smells, places?”

“Easy,” said Bucky, stretching his shoulders a bit as though he subconsciously felt the need to physically assert himself as a perfect example of a response to Steve’s question. “Memories inform us. They tell us where we’ve been and how we got here. They give us context for being. I spent decades knowing and remembering nothing but Hydra, and then you showed up in Washington. Things started to come back. I knew that there’d been something to me before Hydra. There were other people I knew…another man I’d been…more context to me that had been blocked out.” He paused thoughtfully, gazing at the blank wall above the TV. A thought flitted by his mind ever so briefly that this was more blank wall space where he could put something up if he wanted to. “What d’you think, Steve?” he said again. “Have I gotten enough context back that I’m who I used to be?”

Steve lowered his eyebrows and took a few moments to answer, presumably searching for the right words. “I think it’s unreasonable to expect that you’d be the exact same James Buchanan Barnes I lived with in Brooklyn and fought with in the war. Like you said, memories inform you. I had faith that enough of the old you would come back that I could look into your face and see the man I loved again, but...” he sighed, “…that doesn’t change what happened in between. But if there was a way to…”

“Steve, don’t,” Bucky interrupted. “I know what you’re going to say, I know you’ve told me about how Wanda can mess with people’s heads and how she could probably use that power to my benefit. But quite frankly, it wouldn’t…it wouldn’t feel right. What right do I have to forget everything that I did? Or…sorry, right…what I was made to do? Or even to feel better about it? What kind of disrespect is that to all the lives I was made to shatter? Besides…” he laced his fingers together and closed his eyes in a very slow blink, curling his mouth up in the faintest of smiles, “…I…think I like what I am now. I’m a man living his own life, and I think that’s all anyone can ask for. I’m someone who’s already given his service to his country, but I know there’s more I can do, and I want to stick around for that day. I’m alive and I want to keep living. I want to stay someone who can give and receive love. And if anything that’s happened to me, good or bad, has helped me become that, I want to remember it.”

Steve took a few moments to respond, eventually lifting a hand and resting it on Bucky’s shoulder. “You’re right, Buck, I’m sorry,” said Steve. “Your mind, your memories, your decision.”

Bucky nodded, turning half his attention to the rest of the room. “Y’know, it’s funny,” he said. “The details I can remember and the ones I can’t. If you gave me a sheet of paper and a pencil, I could probably trace a rough floor plan of our old place. I could tell you where the couch was, where the stove was, where the bed was, but I couldn’t tell you…” his brow furrowed, “…the colors and patterns are things I have trouble with. I want to say the old bed sheets were sky blue, but that’s just because of the ones I have now. I think we had books, too. We must’ve had books.”

“We did have books. Not a lot, but…” Steve turned to look at Bucky’s current bookcase against the wall next to him. “Maybe a shelf or two of what you’ve got there? There wasn’t a lot of time for reading, not with the hours we had to keep to afford rent sometimes.”

“I remember some of the stuff I read, but more vague plot things than actual titles, unless it was one of The Classics,” Bucky continued. “I know a read a bunch of H.G. Wells, I’m pretty sure I read Frankenstein, I must’ve read Alice in Wonderland at some point because I know there was something in there somewhere about a girl going on a goddamn trip. When I first remembered it existed, it took me a while to stop getting it mixed up with The Wizard of Oz. If we had any P.G. Wodehouse books, they were definitely yours. You liked them a lot more than me, I remember that. Or at least the Jeeves books. I never really understood what you got out of stories of bored rich guys getting almost-married every few weeks.”

“Honestly, I think it was more the writing than the stories,” said Steve with a light chuckle. “Maybe I’m just a sucker for a good well-worded sentence. Or, in this case, a lot of them in a row.”

Bucky tilted his head with a smile. “I might have to give those another shot,” he said, “because one of them has the only specific sentences I remember from back then.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “You remember actual lines from the books?”

“Just barely,” said Bucky. “I know you got me to read the Jeeves short stories, and there was one…” he closed his eyes, “…I can’t remember the name of the story or which book it was or anything else that happened in the actual plot but…Bertie Wooster and some other guy got stuck on the roof of a gazebo in the middle of a lake or something and they couldn’t get back to the boat because there was an angry swan in the way. So Jeeves has to come save them and…again, I don’t remember the meat of that one paragraph but I know it started ‘every young man starting life ought to know how to cope with an angry swan, so I will briefly relate the proper procedure’ and it ended with ‘that was Jeeves’s method, and I cannot see how it could have been improved upon’.” Bucky turned to look at Steve again, whose eyes were still wide and whose mouth was slightly open in pleasant surprise.

“Oh my god,” he said with the slightest of pauses. “I remember that. I remember you reading that. I was tidying up the kitchen and you were laughing your ass off in the next room and suddenly you rushed in with the book and yelled ‘STEVE, I’VE JUST…’”

“’…FOUND THE FUNNIEST SHIT I’VE EVER READ IN MY LIFE’,” they finished in unison.

“Yeah,” Steve continued. “You tried doing a dramatic reading of it, but you barely got to the end before you were on the floor with one hand over your stomach and the other slapping the rug.”

Bucky grinned. “Ohhh man, when the hell was the last time I found something that funny?”

“You know they made a TV show out of that?” said Steve.

“Wait, out of the Jeeves books?”

“Yeah, it’s just called Jeeves and Wooster. I haven’t seen it yet, but I’d like to.”

“Well then,” said Bucky, leaning back into the couch, “I bet I know what we’re watching after I catch up on Doctor Who.”

Bucky: [Holy shit]

Bucky: [Hoooooooooly shit]

Bucky: [Steve, I just realized something about season 9.]

Bucky: [That was us. That was basically us.]

Steve: [It…wait]

Bucky: [I mean, think about it:]

Bucky: [There’s a protagonist and his best friend who mean the universe to each other and fight evil together]

Bucky: [And one day the protagonist has to watch his best friend die, shortly before he himself gets agelessly aged by a lot]

Bucky: [And then the protagonist learns there might be a way to get his friend back, so he goes through hell and high water to make it happen, maybe crossing a few lines along the way]

Bucky: [And when the protagonist finally gets his friend back, something happens to separate them again.]

Bucky: [Plus there’s forced memory loss and a part where one of them tries to kill the other because they don’t recognize them.]

Steve: [You know, it’s freaky]

Steve: [I feel like I thought that too when I first watched it, but I hadn’t put it into words like that.]

Bucky: [I think you and I won out in the long run, didn’t we?]

Steve: [Yeah, we did. We absolutely did.]

Steve: [Wait, what’s with this me being “the protagonist”? This isn’t a movie of my life, Buck.]

Bucky: [Yeah, but it fit the metaphor.]

Steve: [Maybe you should stick that somewhere on your quote wall: “I am the protagonist of my own story.”]

Bucky: [That’s a thought. I’ve already got the rest of it laid out though.]

Bucky: [Maybe it’s just because we just watched it earlier this week and it’s still fresh in my head, but I’m giving a really good space to that one line about]

Bucky: [“Never be cruel and never be cowardly, and if you ever are, always make amends.”]

Bucky: [I only hope I can achieve that someday.]

Steve: [You do tend to apologize a lot these days.]

Bucky: [If it’s a coping mechanism, let’s just say it works for me and leave it at that.]

Steve: [Hey, what works for you that isn’t hurting yourself, works for me.]

Bucky: [Sounds fair. Thank you.]

Steve: [Speaking of “leaving it at that,” have you seen that Christmas special with River Song yet?]

Bucky: [RIGHT, THAT. NO I HAVEN’T, LET ME FIX THAT.]

#stucky #bucky barnes #steve rogers #captain america #winter soldier #bucky #doctor who #my fics #fanfikshun

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