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pain-in-the-butler · 2 months

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Could you give us some good dadbastian fanfic? Oneshots, incomplete, completed anything really, i am starved and need some more food other than coattails(which i love very much!)

Hey there, thanks so much for being a Coattails reader! As an aside, I'm not sure if you're totally caught up or not, but sorry I don't yet have an idea of when the next part will be ready. I only have 4k words written so far and chapter 33 is looking to be another doozy... I'll be sure to keep everyone informed of when we're close 🫡

Anyway, I have no idea if you're like me when it comes to Dadbastian, but I'm pretty particular about what I enjoy. Angst has to play a factor in some form, for instance. I also don't like it when Ciel and Seb are too sappy with each other without it being earned. There's a reason Coattails had like 250k words of build-up before Sebastian actually accepted his Dadbastian fate.

With that in mind, here are my suggestions!

bottom of the deep blue sea by sunflowergiorno Easily one of my favorite Dadbastian fics, hands down. I remember going positively bananas waiting for the second part to come out. It's so gentle and tender and honest. It perfectly showcases the thoughts and feelings I'd hoped for Sebastian and Ciel to have to approach after their experience on the Campania. Words, Strings, and Butterfly Wings by Kimberly_T I love this story so dearly, and it's tragic that it's unfinished. This fic is a retelling of the Circus Arc, in which Ciel and Sebastian must actually pretend to be father and son, sometimes with hilarious results, other times endearing. A major inspiration behind Coattails for sure. I would die for Falco, an original character who to me is more endearing than any of the canon Noah's Ark cast members.

Dadbastian Week Drabbles by HeartLeftovers Nobody does angst like HeartLeftovers, and you'll drink up her poetic language like nectar. My personal favorite is Midnight, but read Magnifying Glass and Domesticated Wolf first for the full impact of the final stanza.

Sensorium by OtherCat Short but sweet. A story about how Sebastian helps Ciel at the beginning of the contract to stop thinking like a boy trapped in a cage. I love that it shows that Sebastian couldn't possibly have frightened Ciel into becoming an earl: he had to actually coax Ciel towards it.

Singing in the Silence by Kimberly_T Another one from Kimberly_T. Not strictly Dadbastian, but a story about the servants learning how to help Ciel with his PTSD in their very own inventive and roundabout way. Heart-meltingly adorable. It's canon to me, dammit.

Front Page News by TheArchaeologist Also not strictly Dadbastian (in fact, Ciel is incapacitated the whole time), but I only need the slightest reason to suggest this Phantomfam-centric fic. Mey-Rin's voice is especially realized. Even though you already know Sebastian, Snake, and Ciel will make it back from the Campania in one piece, you feel the Pham's worry palpably.

Through the Years by Kimberly_T Can you tell yet that I love Kimberly_T? Admittedly, this one I haven't read with perfect thoroughness, but I can tell you that the Dadbastian moments are peak. Ciel hires a new maid, a woman who nearly killed him when he invaded a brothel on a mission for the Queen. Please mind that this involves some discussions of SA. Also mind that the story largely centers around an original character, but no one does OCs like Kimberly.

ad perpetuam memoriam by redrobin1989 Only Dadbastian if you squint, but my god if you haven't read it yet go do it now.

I also have my Dadbastian week drabbles, Cutting Teeth, if you haven't read those! I hope that's given you some food for the time being. Eat up and enjoy!

#kuroshitsuji #dadbastian #fanfic recs #coattails

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chiefdirector · 8 months

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Soulmates | Tony Dinozzo | NCIS

No.27: Immortal Whumpee

Soulmates were something neither scientist nor sceptic could explain.

The concept and implications that two souls were bound to each other were grand topics that nearly everyone wanted to explore and yet could not make headway to exposing the truth behind it.

Most would say that it is science, and that there must be a reason that you had another half. Some would quote old Greek mythologies. Others would say that it was magic. Tony sided with those who didn’t give a crap.

When he met (Y/N), and everything in his life seemed to click into place, Tony realised it didn’t matter how or why he was fated to her, if only mattered that he was. He was forever grateful to the mark on his wrist, the only that signified their unbreakable bond.

Although, if he truly gave it thought, he would dismiss the idea of anything otherworldly. He had seen enough horrors working at NCIS. If magic existed, he would have seen the repercussions dead in Ducky’s morgue.

And yet when the deranged women sat in interrogation mutter under her breath about how she had changed the fates, going on and on about how Tony was cursed to a hundred lifetimes alone, Tony felt a chill go down his spine. He rushed out of the observation room and into the bullpen where he saw (Y/N) writing a report at her desk. She was here; she was alive. Tony felt himself let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

Quickly, he moved over to her desk and leaned on top of it. "You okay?"

"Yeah," She hummed, before looking up. She recoiled slightly, shocked to see Tony so disheveled and panting. "Are you? You look a little... out of it."

"As long as you're fine, I'm fine."

Tony smiled at her, watching as she drew her attention back to her work. That old woman was crazy, (Y/N) was fine, she was okay; she was alive and that was enough.

-----

Tony's peace of mind only lasted a few more days. Another case had landed in their laps. The MCRT had been called out to assist the FBI and Homeland in the capture of a terrorist cell who had set up base in a local Navy port.

There was five suspects within the cell, three had already been arrested, leaving only two for the capture. Tony was confident everything would be fine, they had three agencies and nearly 50 trained personal out for the two suspects. The teams had been split up to cover more ground, McGee and (Y/N) had gone left while Tony, Ziva, and Gibbs had gone right.

Tony heard the gunshots before the the pain set into his wrist, right where his soulmark sat. He couldn't feel anything else except that burning pressure as he ran throughout the port towards the sound of bullets being fired. He could faintly hear Gibbs and Ziva following him, yelling him to retreat, but he didn't want to listen, he couldn't. He had to find (Y/N).

The port seemed ever winding, but not once did Tony slow down. He weaved throughout different storage containers and frantic agents until he found a clearing near the water. There, slumped against a wooden storage container, lay (Y/N). If it weren't from the wound leaking blood down her chest, he would have thought her asleep. Her face gave no indication of pain or suffering. It was a quick death.

Tony moved to her side, pulling her still warm body into his. He shook her, even though he knew that she was already gone. He begged her to wake up, to come back to him. He prayed, begged, and bartered. But neither man nor God could save her now.

----

The funeral of Agent (Y/N) (L/N) was a beautiful affair. Agents and colleagues she had worked with as well as families she had helped through her work joined her friends and family in giving her the proper memoriam that she deserved. Tony couldn't remember much of the proceedings, too numb to even comprehend what had happened let alone anything else.

Time seemed to pass slower after her death, it took months for the reality to set in, and a few more years on top of that to accept that she wasn't coming back. It was only as Tony looked at her portrait hung amongst others of their fallen colleagues at NCIS did he think back to that woman he met in integration and her mutterings of his future.

Tony took a step back, looking in the glass of the frame so that he could see himself. His eyes did not wrinkle as McGee's had begun to and his hair held the same vibrant colour that it had always done. It was only then did Tony fully accept that his torture had only begun and that he would suffer until the far off day that he would die.

Masterlist | Whumptober Masterlist

@ailesswhumptober @callsign-ember @happygirl-0408

#tony dinozzo imagine #tony dinozzo x reader #ncis x reader #ailesswhumptober2023 #ncis imagine #chiefdirector

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 years

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Pt4: under the dragons eye

Pt1

Pt2

Pt3

Pt3.5

Following that growl came an exhalation of warm air, instantly heating the expanse of your back up to the base of your neck within a matter of seconds. You were too stricken with fear to even attempt to look the creature, or creatures, in the eyes as doing so meant to die a death in befitting for oneself; So for now you remained still, praying to the gods that the creatures were merely passing by with no ill intent towards you possibly trespassing into their territory.

Unfortunately fate had other ideas in mind as the creatures only seemed to take this opportune moment to close in on you by breaking out into a sprint. They must’ve thought the dagger still clutched tight in your hand a threat to their safety rather then a method of defence for yours. For their growls only grew more hostile with feelings of both anger and hunger as they’ve picked up their pace; hellbent on tearing their teeth into your flesh before bringing your bleeding corpse back to the rest of the pack nearby to feast. Without giving much thought to your next actions other then being driven by your soul desire to survive an evasive death, you released your dagger from your hand. Just before it could hit the ground however and as your life began flashing before your eyes in memoriam; the sounds of a pair of wings beating the air, followed by the rustling of leaves within the trees and lastly concluded with the smell of fire, charred bodies of once living things were all your sense could focus in on. You had somehow been miraculously spared from a visitation from the Stranger.

The logistics as to how were still a point of contention for you to this day but you weren’t given much chance to mull it over as a voice form behind spoke cold and true. “You shouldn’t be here at this time of night.” Feeling a sense of familiarity within the voice, you took the opportunity to address your saviour. To then be met with a man of a slim yet broad build who possessed a platinum blonde head of hair that befell past his shoulders and a singular violet eye that pierced your own; The infamous features only those born of Valerian blood possessed. He was dressed in a coat of armour but you could clearly make out the emerald green colour of house Hightower beneath as though beaming with pride; Not to say that your intentions were to blatantly stare at him but you couldn’t help but be haunted by a sense of familiarity that only grew stronger the longer you looked.

It was akin to an inch you couldn’t scratch or a word you couldn’t quite get off of the top of your tongue; yet the more obvious the answer became, the more frustrated you got when it seemed to tauntingly evade you until you’d snap and make the choice to choke the life out of it instead. The echoes of screams filled the back of your mind that only grew louder when your eyes dared to hone in on the black eyepatch he wore that didn’t entirely cover the scar that stretched beyond it’s confines; it wasn’t until then did it all came back to you. “Aemond?” You said, uncertainty lacing your voice as you took one step closer to the male in hopes to gauge his reaction to the name. Though before you could test your limitations and take another step, the tip of a blade was presented before your neck, forcing you to come to a stand still.

You didn’t even see him take his sword out of his sheath, never less reach for it. “How does one know of my name when I have neither heard a mere whisper of yours.” He responded, his hand steady as stone as he kept it poised at the jugular of your neck as though awaiting you to give him a reason to skewer you. Aemond didn’t let up any emotions that you could use to your advantage to worm past his high defences. He was like an iron wall in that regard which only reminded you so much of his uncle Daemon. With that being said the more you looked at Aemond the more you saw aspects of Daemon within him also that it made your heart yearn for his comfort and warmth. However you were for certain that you’ve ruined any chances of things going back to how they were before.

“You cried into my chest as a little boy when Lucaerys, Jacaerys and your own brother humiliated you in the name of a prank.” You searched his eye for any sign of recognition when you heard his breath hitch and his hand slightly waver. “I always told you that I would always be your safe haven should things turn for the worst and that I-“ “would never abandon me and yet you did just that!” Aemond cried as he regained control of the situation. He mother had told him that you had abandoned him for Rhaenyra and Daemon, that you never cared for him in the first place and that every act of kindness you ever gave him was nothing more then a facade in means of weakening him. At first he didn’t want to believe you were capable of such cruelty until he saw you once more at Driftmark alongside Daemon, Rhaenyra and her children in the great hall when he had lost his eye. In that moment it seemed to Aemond that you had already chosen where your allegiance lied. With the bastards that dared claim themselves to share the same blood that which flows through him and his family; it felt like an insult then as it still did now seeing you after all that time apart.

You haunted him as a young boy and now you were haunted him as a grown man. He knew that his mother knew that you weren’t so easy to forget so she came up with whatever she could to taint the light he still saw you under. It worked as well as she wanted but there was always a part of him that knew that what Alicent had been feeding him were lies. It was hard for him to discard the times where he was practically glued to your side, following you like a lost puppy throughout KingsLanding almost obsessively. Aemond spent time reflecting on his behaviour towards you but couldn’t find anything morally wrong with them unlike everyone else who saw him clinging onto you as a sign for worse things to come. Your presence lingered with him much like a ghost during your absence. Now that he saw your tangible form appear before him after so long and within his grasp, the prince didn’t wish to see you fade from his life anymore and leaving him naught a trace as to where you were heading.

You smiled sadly at him, taking that daring step forwards, feeling the tip of the blade press uncomfortably against the skin of your neck whenever you swallowed. “I’m here now aren’t I?” You said softly before placing a hand on top of the one that held the sword steadfast, squeezing it slightly to prove that you weren’t some disillusioned figment of his imagination. “I can’t begin to atone for my departure from you life but please know that it was never my intention to leave. I was relieved of my duties as your caretaker rather hastily.” You told Aemond but didn’t expect him to fully believe your words over his own mother’s manipulation. Your bond has long since dissolved and it was not his obligation to believe you. “She told me you left with Daemon and Rhaenyra.” Aemond said bluntly, “she also said that you never cared for me-“ “I’ve always cared for you Aemond! Your mother however was already infected with the madness her pathetic father implanted in her young impressionable head concerning the succession!” You shot back, venom oozing from your every word as your grip on his hand tightened in an silent plea for him to trust your words.

“I’ve never stopped caring for you Aemond, truly I haven’t. The day you lost your eye permanently scared my heart, your pained cries haunt my every nightmares as I’m reminded that I wasn’t there to protect you, to comfort you…that I… gravely failed you. I’m so sorry Aemond.” The Targaryen didn’t speak but instead chose to let his actions speak themselves as he lowered the sword from your neck, squeezing your hand in return. “We can’t see each other anymore after this.” He told you but yet lifted your hand to press a ginger kiss to the back of it to signify that his words and heart spoke of two completely different stories. “I know, tis a shame, had things gone a little differently the perhaps so much blood wouldn’t have to be shed.” You replied, also not wanting this to be the last you see of Aemond but also understanding that if either of you were caught, it would only fan the flames of tension between the two families even more then they already were.

“Unfortunately in Westeros there is no such thing as a happy ending, only temporary peace bound to be broken, throwing everyone into unrest once more.” Aemond concluded, hesitantly pulling away from you just as the unique cries of Caraxes filled the air, signifying to Aemond and Vhagar of Daemon’s arrival. His eye darkens upon spotting the silhouette of the Blood Wrym darting across the sky like an overgrown fly. Aemond looked back at you to see that you were already looking overhead with a smile gracing your lips, causing him to internally scoff. Of course your heart belonged to his uncle whether you knew it or not but it was obvious that you were just as infatuated with him as he was with you. The problem with this however, or Daemon’s problem to be more exact, was the civil war taking up his opportune moment to confess which played greatly into Aemond’s hand; For as long as the rouge prince was kept distracted, the more time was then added to Aemond’s in swaying you over to his side, potentially causing a rift between the two of you which will leave Daemon open for a killing blow. Thus claiming a great victory for his family.

So whilst you were looking elsewhere, Aemond left with Vhagar without another word as the pair disappeared into the night as a new dragon and rider descended from the veil of night soon after. Caraxes cried in happiness upon seeing you once again that once he had landed safely, he extended his long neck to nuzzle his muzzle against yours a little too aggressively that you almost fell on your ass. “I missed you too my precious Caraxes.” You laughed, rubbing under his chin the way he liked, smiling widely as he purred in a series of clicks that emitted from the back of his throat that you didn’t notice Damon sliding off of the saddle. “Not even going to give me my share of the affection?” He asked playfully but on the inside he was so fucking glad that you were safe but he wasn’t stupid, he knew Aemond was here and back in the picture. Daemon knew his nephew wasn’t going to back down easily but then again neither was he, seeing as he’s been chasing after you for much longer then Aemond had been alive.

“Daemon!” His thoughts were broken when you rushed to hug him, he tightened his grip on you, pressing a kiss against your hair before indulging himself in the scent of you. “I thought you wouldn’t-“ “wouldn’t what? Come after you? Y/n we’ve known each other long enough for that to no longer even a question worth asking.” He pulls away from you just enough so he could look into your eyes that he loved so much. “I’ll always come after you even if you broke my heart,” he started, pressing his forehead against yours, “for it’ll always be yours even when splintered into a million pieces. Never forget that my Dragonfire.”

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creatorbiaze · 3 months

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The Distortionist by Ghost and Pals, in reference to Vierxa's story (hey @im-a-chunky-potato)

it's easier to put the lyrics & then add the notes / reasons to the side so

Tears laced with cyanide flow through the cracks of a, Mirror shattered long ago - Vizerxa's regret & hatred of herself + how she deviated from the True Timeline ~600 years ago (timelines/side by side things are normally represented by mirror shards in my art)

And sure, I'm the one who swung the metal bat, But hey, I can't control the urge! Nobody's gonna blame me for that -originally she'd tried to blame it all on Sidera to avoid the regret & guilt

Impossible, impossible

Twist 'n turn it right around, The details never safe or sound, The truth projected through a lens with nothing proving otherwise - Sidera manipulating Vizerxa's story & the people around her

Now, take the time to realize, despite what you believe, The victim of a massacre was none other than poor me - Vizerxa suffered greatly from the fall of Amist Memoriam; it's when her 'crystal wings' shattered the most

Surely you can see the problem, I don't wanna lose my own reflection - Vizerxa's fear of being forgotten A deplorable perception of me, Was none other than an image of you - Sidera changing her story to roughly mirror their own

You're making a wreck of broken glass and leaving me a fuckin' mess! -once again the timeline deviant + Vizerxa's mental issues Bending light in a way that shows exactly how the story goes - her trying to correct her legacy

Whimsical, "dear", your lies are clear, now, who the hell would've ever guessed? -Vizerxa to Sidera "Play my games and abide my ways, there's no way you can compensate" -Sidera's words to Vizerxa, essentially, while toying with Vizerxa's fate

A monster, monster, monster, monster Now, run away, run away, run away "I- I'm a monster, monster, monster, monster Now, run away, run away, run away" -Sidera, knowing full damn well they're a terrible person "Now, you're the monster" -Sidera, to Vizerxa, to make her guilt worse

"A glimmer of betrayal, Changes my mind, The odds against your favor, forever!" -Sidera making life a living hell for Vizerxa after Vizzy started to silently turn against LS

"Ignorant atrocities" and "colorless apologies", This isn't what it looks to be -Vizerxa had to pretend to be LS's right hand I'm not as cruel as you see me -self explanatory

Take the time to realize, despite what you may see, The mirrors cracked themselves and I was cut on the broken shards, and how I bled -Vizerxa realizing that she really didnt cause shit, sidera did

Stuck in a spotlight brighter than the smile no one ever saw! Bending light in a way that shows the truth that left our friends in awe! -Vizerxa finally being able to change her story

Whimsical, dear, your lies are clear, now, who the hell would've ever guessed? Play my games and abide my ways, there's no way you can compensate! -Vizerxa to LS, basically

Madness,

"it's madness?" Oh-ho, it's sickening,

"it's sickening?" You know it's unfair,

"it's unfair?" How you distorted my reflection! -Basically Vizerxa snapping at Sidera (Quotation marks are Sidera, mocking vizerxa)

In all this madness,

"it's madness?" Oh-ho, it's sickening,

" it's sickening?" You know it's unfair,

" it's unfair?" How you distorted my reflection! "You know it's too late." -same as before, but Sidera points out Vizerxa's already too far gone

"You're lost in a world of funhouse mirrors, twisted for eternity! Bending light in a way that shows refraction of hypocrisy!" -Sidera, once again just playing with Vizerxa's fate

Whimsical, "dear", your lies are clear, now, who the hell would've ever guessed? -Vizerxa, bitter again

"Play my games and abide my ways, there's no way you can compensate" -just sidera requoting themself (One, two, three, break)

Tears laced with cyanide flow through the cracks of a Mirror shattered long ago -Vizerxa's falling back into the pattern of guilt & regret

"And sure, I'm the one who swung the metal bat, But hey, I can't control the urge!" -Sidera, just finding it hilarious to fuck with vizerxa's fate

Nobody's gonna blame me for that. -Vizerxa

#oc things #ocs #vizerxa mortem

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tamiveldura · 2 months

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Questions for Tami

How many books have you written?

This is a fair question. Any new reader who finds my work on a store isn’t going to immediately know that I have other pennames, or that I frequently publish short stories in magazines. The reader who stumbles over my fanfiction on AO3 isn’t going to know I have flash fiction on Tumblr or even a website.

To keep track of all my work, I have a spreadsheet that notes the title, what penname, when I finished it, how long it is, and where I’ve first published it. It has more details, but the important part is I can open that spreadsheet and scroll down and down and tell you…

I have written 116 things.

These things are a mix of novels, novellas, and short stories. They don’t include my fanfiction or flash fiction. Most of these things are available for purchase—although a few are on submission or just waiting in line to be published.

It has been on my to-do list for some time to make a complete reading list available for download on the website and I just haven’t gotten to it yet. Now is as good a time as any, right? Here’s a list: https://www.tamiveldura.com/biblio/

An Act Of Piracy (Historical PNR) Blood In The Water Ruin & Will How Santa Stole Crampus The Mermaid King The Hunger Of The Deep

Queenships (Scifi) Perihelion What The Sun Sees Ice Dragon Queen Wedding

Hellhounds (Urban Fantasy) That’s Princess Hellhound, To You

HORNETS (Mil Scifi) The Last Flight Of The Hornets Space Sushi Solvarg Pursues The Moon The Queen Is Dead, Long Live The Queen Revenge With A Side of Power Armor A Message From The Gods

Jumperverse (Sci Fantasy) Chasing Dragons Tentacle Awareness Attack of the Space Vampires

Leviathanverse (Scifi) Flight of the Sunbird Test of the Judgment

Maj And The Outlaws (Scifi) Murder Is A Family Business The Trinordia Dragon The Right Genes For Robbery Trafficking in Killers and Clones It Takes A Village To Feed A Dragon Life Is A Hallucination

The Bone Witch (Urban Fantasy) The Call of the Grim How Not To Raise The Dead Taco’s Tuesday Playground Monitor Summoning Trouble Blind Date With a Hellhound

Tidewater (Contemp M/M) Dawn Patrol Remaking Josh Rough Recall Wild Untouched

Zodiac Forces (Mil Scifi) Closer Than Touch Spring Tide Running With Bulls Smuggler’s Dispatch Smart Birthday

Black Trans Fairy Tales (YA Fairy Tale Retellings) Cinder Ella Mer Made Beauty’s Beast

Powyrworld (M/F PNR) Dragon Star Dragon Solstice Rescued By The Dragon Assassin

Ether City (M/M PNR) Fated To The Wolf A Valentine’s Omega The Dragon Heir’s Omega The Dragon Heir’s Secret Wedding

Dragon Fire Soulmates (M/M PNR) Heartfire Ignited Red Stars Crossed

Stand Alone Novels Zero Day Exploit (M/M contemp)

Stand Alone Novellas Beauty Makes A Beast (F/f Fantasy) Serenity (M/M contemp) Deathwatch (YA Fantasy)

Stand Alone Short Stories A Brand New Day (scifi) Afterglow (fantasy) A Gift From The Muse (horror) A Gift Of Family (M/M contemp) Between The Shade (fantasy) Border Planet (scifi) Carrot Cake (horror) Catch A Tiger (scifi) Colors of Resistance (contemp) Dreamers (M/M fantasy) En Memoriam (M/M PNR) Glitterflies (fantasy) Infestation (Mil Scifi) Jinniyo (fantasy) Living City (scifi) Mansion GetAway (Mil scifi) Mech Vs. Aliens (scifi) Occult Awakening (paranormal) Personal Best (contemp) #PixiePocolypse (fantasy) Problem Child (fantasy) Professor Polter In The Computer Lab With The Banshee (YA GameLit) Simulation (scifi) Sovereign Inheritance (PNR) Tea Ceremony (fantasy) The Art of Magic (Fantasy) The Best Dragonrider (fantasy) The City At The Bottom Of The Lake (Fantasy) The Eminent God (urban fantasy) The King’s Fortune (fantasy) The Law of the Jungle (F/F … ? Contemp?) The Light of Shiva (urban fantasy) The Wolf and the King (PNR) To Heaven And Back Again (fantasy) To Light A Bonfire (PNR) Tree Day (mystery) True Night (fantasy) U And Me In Summer (F/F Contemp) What We Do For Love (fantasy)

Collections Fanged (M/M Vampire) Natural Adaptation Master Aviator An Executioner’s Absolution Mile High The Catch

Enchanted (YA Fantasy) Pale Horse Final Wishes Once Upon A Harvest Afterlife Clytemnestra The Forever Storm The Summer Rite Dark Mirror The Whole Truth What The Redwood Sees Double Vision The Queen’s Offering

#writeblr #author #indie author #published author #original fiction #science fiction #fantasy #urban fantasy #YA #paranormal romance #gay romance #lesbian romance #queer fiction #short stories #novellas #novels #series #questions for Tami

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haveyoureadthisqueerbook · 2 months

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Hello! First of all: love this blog! Second: I read a lot of queer books and as it turns out a lot of them weren’t already on your spreadsheet so uh. Sorry in advance for what I’m about to do to your inbox/queue 😅

Ace of Spades by Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé

Clap When You Land by Elizabeth Acevedo

Leah on the Offbeat by Becky Albertalli

The City in the Middle of the Night by Charlie Jane Anders

The Time Slip Girl by Elizabeth Andre

Light from Uncommon Stars by Ryka Aoki

Our Wives Under the Sea by Julia Armfield

Legends and Lattes by Travis Baldree

The Queen of Cups by Ren Basel

Girls Made of Snow and Glass by Melissa Bashardoust

Cinderella is Dead by Kalynn Bayron

This Poison Heart by Kalynn Bayron

This Wicked Fate by Kalynn Bayron

Werecockroach by Polenth Blake

In the Vanishers’ Palace by Aliette de Bodard

Wain: LGBT Reimaginings of Scottish Folktales by Helene Boppert and Rachel Plummer

In Other Lands by Sarah Rees Brennan

Rubyfruit Jungle by Rita Mae Brown

Tremontaine: The Complete Season One by Patty Bryant, Malinda Lo, Racheline Maltese, Joel Derfner, Ellen Kushner, Paul Witcover, and Alaya Dawn Johnson

This Other World by AC Buchanan

In Memoriam by Nathan Burgoine

The Dark Beneath the Ice by Amelinda Bérubé

Felix Ever After by Karen Callender

Last Bus to Everland by Sophie Cameron

Out of the Blue by Sophie Cameron

Once & Future by AR Capetta and Cory McCarthy

The Brilliant Death by AR Capetta

XX by Angela Chadwick

A Closed and Common Orbit by Becky Chambers

A Psalm for the Wild-Built by Becky Chambers

A Prayer for the Crown-Shy by Becky Chambers

The Vela by Becky Chambers, Rivers Solomon, Yoon Ha Lee, and SL Huang

Black Water Sister by Zen Cho

The True Queen by Zen Cho

The Terracotta Bride by Zen Cho

The Water that Falls on You From Nowhere by John Chu

The Shape of My Name by Nino Cipri

A Dead Djinn in Cairo by P. Djèlí Clark

Girlhood by Cat Clarke

Labyrinth Lost by Zoraida Córdova

Dreadnought by April Daniels

Sovereign by April Daniels

Thornfruit by Felicia Davin

Nightvine by Felicia Davin

Shadebloom by Felicia Davin

Her Majesty’s Royal Coven by Juno Dawson

Stay Another Day by Juno Dawson

Otherbound by Corinne Duyvis

Pet by Akwaeke Emezi

Bitter by Akwaeke Emezi

The Drowning Eyes by Emily Foster

Bingo Love by Tee Franklin

Upright Women Wanted by Sarah Gailey

Knit One, Girl Two by Shira Glassman

The Gilda Stories by Jewelle Gomez

We Go Around in the Night and Are Consumed by Fire by Jules Grant

Into the Drowning Deep by Mira Grant

The One Hundred Nights of Hero by Isabel Greenberg

Keeper of the Dawn by Dianna Gunn

The Well of Loneliness by Radclyffe Hall

The Outside by Ada Hoffman

The Fallen by Ada Hoffman

The Infinite by Ada Hoffman

Mindtouch by MCA Hogarth

Sing the Four Quarters by Tanya Huff

The Apocalypse of Elena Mendoza by Shaun David Hutchinson

The City of Woven Streets by Emmi Itäranta

Godkiller by Hannah Kaner

Let’s Talk About Love by Claire Kann

The Beast of Callaire by Saruuh Kelsey

The Lamb Will Slaughter the Lion by Margaret Killjoy

An Excess Male by Maggie Shen King

Gender Queer by Maia Kobabe

Crimson by Niviaq Korneliussen

Godsgrave by Jay Kristoff

Swordspoint by Ellen Kushner

The Faerie Godmother’s Apprentice Wore Green by Nicky Kyle

Avi Cantor Has Six Months to Live by Sacha Lamb

When the Angels Left the Old Country by Sacha Lamb

Goldie Vance Vol. 1 by Hope Larson

Paul Takes the Form of a Mortal Girl by Andrea Lawlor

Ancillary Justice by Ann Leckie

Ancillary Sword by Ann Leckie

Ancillary Mercy by Ann Leckie

The Raven Tower by Ann Leckie

Not Your Sidekick by CB Lee

Not Your Villain by CB Lee

Not Your Backup by CB Lee

The Lady’s Guide to Petticoats and Piracy by Mackenzi Lee

The Fever King by Victoria Lee

The Fox’s Tower and Other Tales by Yoon Ha Lee

Phoenix Extravagant by Yoon Ha Lee

Elatsoe by Darcie Little Badger

Adaptation by Malinda Lo

Inheritance by Malinda Lo

Natural Selection by Malinda Lo

Last Night at the Telegraph Club by Malinda Lo

The Hand, the Eye, and the Heart by Zoë Marriott

Luna: New Moon by Ian McDonald

Luna: Wolf Moon by Ian McDonald

Every Heart a Doorway by Seanan McGuire

Down Among the Sticks and Bones by Seanan McGuire

Beneath the Sugar Sky by Seanan McGuire

Come Tumbling Down by Seanan McGuire

Forbid the Sea by Seanan McGuire

In Sea-Salt Tears by Seanan McGuire

The Unbinding of Mary Reade by Miriam McNamara

An Accident of Stars by Foz Meadows

A Tyranny of Queens by Foz Meadows

All Out: The No-Longer Secret Stories of Queer Teens Throughout the Ages ed. Saundra Mitchell

Thistlefoot by GennaRose Nethercott

Princess Princess Ever After by K. O’Neill

The Tea Dragon Society by K. O’Neill

The Tea Dragon Festival by K. O’Neill

The Tea Dragon Tapestry by K. O’Neill

Under the Udala Trees by Chinelo Okparanta

Heartstopper by Alice Oseman

Loveless by Alice Oseman

Radio Silence by Alice Oseman

She Who Became the Sun by Shelley Parker-Chan

Detransition, Baby by Torrey Peters

Stormsong by CL Polk

Soulstar by CL Polk

She Drives Me Crazy by Kelly Quindlen

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid

The Tiger’s Daughter by K Arsenault Rivera

The Phoenix Empress by K Arsenault Rivera

The Warrior Moon by K Arsenault Rivera

A Taste of Gold and Iron by Alexandra Rowland

Birthday by Meredith Russo

If I Was Your Girl by Meredith Russo

The Midnight Lie by Marie Rutkoski

A Day of Fallen Night by Samantha Shannon

Dying for a Living by Kory M. Shrum

Two Dark Moons by Avi Silver

History is All You Left Me by Adam Silvera

More Happy Than Not by Adam Silvera

The Abyss Surrounds Us by Emily Skrutskie

The Edge of the Abyss by Emily Skrutskie

An Unkindness of Ghosts by Rivers Solomon

The Summer of Jordi Perez (and the Best Burger in Los Angeles) by Amy Spalding

The Traitor’s Tunnel by CM Spivey

Nimona by ND Stevenson

Chameleon Moon by RoAnna Sylver

Small Changes Over Long Periods of Time by KM Szpara

As I Descended by Robin Talley

Lies We Tell Ourselves by Robin Talley

Silver in the Wood by Emily Tesh

Drowned Country by Emily Tesh

Cemetery Boys by Aiden Thomas

No Gods, No Monsters by Cadwell Turnbull

Crier’s War by Nina Varela

Iron Heart by Nina Varela

The Empress of Salt and Fortune by Nghi Vo

When the Tiger Came Down the Mountain by Nghi Vo

Into the Riverlands by Nghi Vo

On a Sunbeam by Tillie Walden

Mooncakes by Suzanne Walker

Fingersmith by Sarah Waters

System Collapse by Martha Wells

A Big Ship at the Edge of the Universe by Alex White

The Black Tides of Heaven by Neon Yang

The Red Threads of Fortune by Neon Yang

The Descent of Monsters by Neon Yang

The Ascent to Godhood by Neon Yang

Waiting on a Bright Moon by Neon Yang

Taproot by Keezy Young

Phew! Finally got all of these queued! Thank you so much for the list, and for arranging them so neatly, which definitely made it easier to transfer over to a spreadsheet!

#Anonymous #submissions

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disastrouscanasta · 11 months

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PROMPT WEEK AT THE OK CORRAL

SEPTEMBER 10th-16th

Calling all fans of the little western town Tombstone and the gunfight that made it famous! Here are 7 days of prompts for fic, art, edits, etc. for any media to do with Tombstone, the Gunfight at the OK Corral, Wyatt Earp, Doc Holliday or stories based on them.

If you’d like to participate, you can post your contributions throughout the week, from September 10th-16th.

We’re just looking to have some fun and to populate our little fandom, so anyone is free to participate.

Use the prompts however you want, they follow a general theme for each day but are vague enough to leave room for interpretation.

Day 1-

Flowers | Keepsakes | Epistolary | Long Time No See

Day 2-

Keeping Watch | Admiring | Getting Familiar | Changes

Day 3-

Fate | Soulmates | Good Luck | Bad Luck

Day 4-

Romance | Fights | Bets | Patching Up

Day 5-

Life | Moments | Domesticity | Good Times

Day 6-

Planes, Trains & Automobiles | Travel | Camping | Quest

Day 7-

Alternate History | Different Time Period | Memories | In Memoriam

You can tag your works with #Prompt Week At The OK Corral, or if you’re posting on Ao3, add it to our collection.

Let us know if you’d like to be tagged in updates for the prompt week, as there will be reminders and more info given if needed.

Until then, spread the word! We hope to see you soon!

This is unfortunately my first time running a fandom event, so please be kind, I’m trying my best

Tag list:

@someguywriting, @doink-boink, @gohoubi

#tombstone 1993 #cowboys #doc holliday #wyatt earp #fanfiction #Prompt Week At The OK Corral #Gunfight at the ok corral #my darling clementine #wynonna earp

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erabundus · 7 months

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@starfelll &&. said... He tilts his head. An irritatingly-accurate REFLECTION stares back at him. He blinks. Once. Twice. Yū wonders what kind of TRAP this could possibly be. Why is there TWO of him? And why do they look so ALIKE? (Yū/Wanderer)

he tilts his head just as the other does — and the wanderer has to stop and scan his surroundings just to ensure he isn't peering into a cleverly disguised MIRROR. it's a bit eerie, and the fact that ren finds it to be so says quite a bit. ( for he has grown numb to this world's horrors. ) he leans his head the other way, kasa chiming like so many metal bells — if only to ensure that his doppelganger does not do the same. it's a small difference between them, but it grants him some faint sense of SECURITY nevertheless. this entire situation is very strange. some kind of cheap trick? the result of yet another cruel machination born from the doctor's twisted mind? even if that were the case, ren can't possibly discern a motive. if dottore possessed the ability to make more of him, assuming he miraculously managed to maintain all of his research, what reason would he have to bother with the wanderer? why would he create a copy of him to begin with when he has an entire backlog of segments to meticulously rebuild?

perhaps it's a result of irminsul. some scrap of himself, some ( sentient ) clump of memories expunged from the great tree alongside his past life's ill-fated efforts to self-destruct. ultimately, ren supposes there is little point in AGONIZING over the reason at the moment; what's done is done — the priority should be how he plans to deal with it.

❝ we share the same face. ❞ the wanderer says. even admitting that much doesn't quite sit right with him. his VISAGE has never been something that felt wholly his own to begin with. it was crafted by the hands of a god — like a sculptor, meticulously carving a marble statue in remembrance of someone who was once IMPORTANT to them. he exists in living memoriam of a deity who no longer draws breath. can he truly call the face he wears his when he was not the one who it originally belonged to? ren gives his head a brisk shake, as if attempting to force his muddled thoughts into some semblance of order before they drift deeper into existential waters. ❝ ... i'm going to assume, ❞ he continues aloud, ❝ that means you probably aren't STUPID ENOUGH to do something reckless ... picking a fight, for example. ❞ that WOULD be awfully foolish, now wouldn't it?

❝ ... ❞ there is one other thing that BOTHERS him. disconcerting as their mirrored appearances are, there is one thing ren isn't at all willing to SHARE. ❝ ... what are you using for a name these days? ❞

#starfelll #( i need to write a headcanon post about it at some point but ren is SO territorial about his name SKSDKD )

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setaripendragon · 5 months

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WIP Game

No one tagged me, I tagged myself in because I want to and you can't stop me =P And I'm tagging everyone who sees this that writes! Do it! Dooo iiit!

Rules: In a new post, list the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it. And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

I don't actually have a WIP folder, I have WIP folders, plural. So, I'm adding a rule that I can't have posted any of the fic online anywhere for it to qualify, and I also have to have worked on it some time in the last... four years?

Let's see if that keeps me below the 50 fics mark (place your bets now)...

A Song of Ice and Fire

Codywan In Westeros

King Eddard Stark

Time-travel TyrionSansa

Pevensie Starks

Cat SI

Assassins Creed

Desmond's PLP

Desmond meets Darcy

ATLA

The Lost Nomads

Ursakoda Canon Crossover

Charmed

Phole Time Travel

Dimension Hopping Chris and Wyatt

Gramarye Book 2

Critical Role

Molly Lives... In Caleb's Head

Molly Does a Time Travel

The Patchwork Bower

Slave AU

OT3 Does a Time Travel

FullMetal Alchemist

Time Travel Outsider PoV

What Is Remembered Forever

RoyEd Adopts Harry Potter

Ed Gets Time Swapped

Wei Wuxian as a RoyEd Baby

A Body for a Body

Psychic Wolves AU

RoyEd Time Travel

RoyEd Arranged Marriage

Rise of the Guardians

Hold Out Your Hand Sequel

Everyone Loves Pitch

The Journal of General Kozmotis Pitchiner

Kingsman

Time Travelling Eggsy

The King's Whores

Chavs and Gentlemen

Kingsman's Wolves

Lord of the Rings

Durincest Polyamory

On the Hunt

Sam Time Travel Adventure

Courting Fate

Seven Ladies Time Travel Epic

Gimli As Celebrimbor Reincarnation

Thilbo Reincarnation

Polyamorous Hobbits

Marvel

Three for a Marriage Four for a Birth

Soulmarks Book 3: Our Song

Heterodyne Legacy #2

One Piece

Secret Marriage

StrawHat Time Travel

Trans Sanji

Who Are You

Peaky Blinders

Time Travel

Soulmate Colours

Heart of Birmingham

Self Insert AU

Pride and Prejudice

A Better Timeline

Sherlock Holmes (Elementary)

Friends in Low Places

Skyfall (James Bond)

Calendar Novel: Time-travelling Q

Harry Potter Crossover

JAQ Polyamory Negotiations

Q Has a Symbiote

Fathers and Daughters

Star Wars

Obi-wan is a Slut

Firefly Crossover

Egg-preg Drabbles

CodyMace Time Travel

404 Battalion Not Found

ABO GAR

Aitash Tu Akos

Release My Soul

Strange and Norrell

All Other Wives

Miss Jennifer Strange

ArabellaChildermassSegundus Time Travel

SI: Childermass Family Drabbles

Supernatural

DeanHotch

GabrielJess

How to Make a Baby with an Angel

Atlantis Sideplot: Princess Mia

Wayward Hunters: Where Are the Winchesters

Time Travel Wish Fulfillment

Rising Star #2

Teen Wolf

Noah and the Tattoos

The Blue People Movie (Avatar)

Tsu'tey's Twins

Time Travel Fix It

The Untamed (MDZS)

In Memoriam

WangNingXian Reincarnation

Ed as Zangse Sanren

Zangse and Changze Save the Day

WangXian Reborn as RuoShan

The Witcher

River God and the Sorceress

Curse of the Black Sun

VesiJask: The Sacking of Kaer Morhen

Torchwood

Old Guard Ianto

Aaand the total comes to 90! At least it's less than a 100... And that's just the stuff I've worked on recently! (Yes, four years is recent. I have fics I haven't actually touched in 6+ years that are still marinating in my brain, waiting for the pieces to fall into place) If you've trawled through all of those to get here, you've got more stamina than I do!

Please ask about anything that piques your interest! I'd love to talk about some of these, see if it gets the creative juices flowing. (Also feel free to ask about any of the WIPs I have posted on here or Ao3!)

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persefoneshalott · 1 year

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LES MIS CENSORSHIP ADVENTURES 8

lm 1.3.9 the horsie chapter :'

First of all, the old spanish translation does "Aspasias was created in the event that Prometheus needed for a mold ". ??? questionable. Aspesias gets described as the 'goddess prostitute' one line before, which I would think is more profane but all right?

(New one is "Aspasias was created in case Prometheus needed a whore." )

The word 'mâtin' in french seems like an equivalent to 'My God!' or 'Heavens!' that is used in surprise (that's why they say it's a "sacramental" word that the cartman barely has time to utter). The old translation cuts it and leaves an equivalent to 'Giddy up' (¡Arre!) instead. The new one goes with '¡Virgen!' which works really well because most of catholicism related exclamations in Spain are more about Virgin Mary than God. Also the 'sacramental word' (old translation) is faithful and good but instead of 'sacramental word' the new translation calls it 'a ritual blasphemy' which I really enjoy < 3 .

Tholomyes' poem is very interesting!! In the old spanish translation, they cut it down to "She was from this world, in which carts and carriages have the same fate." (I relate to the translator not knowing what cuckoo is there bc I don't get it either and going uhhh carts? Is it talking about a cuckoo's clock which turns up as a translation of coucous as well and saying time runs out, so does life or something? Someone help me thx). Anyway, it's similar to hapwood's translation but only keeps the two first lines.

When I copypasted the french poem it led me to a poem of the XVI century, written in memoriam of a father's daughter dying, and that poem had this bit. ""Et rose elle a vécu ce que vivent les roses, L'espace d'un matin." Which I think is something like (trusting google translator and my bad french): "and the rose lived what the roses live, only one morning"

And this is how that bit looks in the les mis chapter "Et, rosse, elle a vécu ce que vivant les rosses, L’espace d’un mâtin" SO ! He's doing a pun there with "rosse" (nag /work horse) and "rose", as well as "matin" and "mâtin".

(I've been told the Donougher translation talks about these puns in the footnotes fyi)

I'm guessing the cuts happened because of the referenced poem's vibes of 'we will all die', and because the 'collige virgo rosas' literary trope of 'enjoy beauty while you have it because you will DIE' is uhh bad and might lead to sin? Also mentions the Fates as being in charge of death instead of God.

Anyway the poem is called "Consolation à M. Du Périer sur la mort de sa fille" by François de Malherbe if you want to check it out

The new spanish translation tries to keep the puns and the reference to the poem in using the collige, virgo, rosas ('pick up the roses, young woman while you can') literary trope, but with a horse instead of a woman.

"The morning star saw her born a young mare It saw her die a nag the coming night. Cut, virgin, the roses in their first bloom."

#les mis letters #les mis censorship #les mis #if the collige virgo rosas thing sounds familiar but not quite it might be bc it shows up in dead poets society #being annoying and people might know about the whole poem thing already but I thought it was cool

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lesaltywarlock · 1 year

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Strangers Again

A story I wrote a while ago from the perspective of Achilles when he was summoned in Fate/Memoriam. It’s actually posted on ao3 but I just felt like reposting it on here! Have fun!

He felt it in the ether, like a hook had caught onto his heart and pulled him away. Someone he knew had been summoned, and he knew exactly who it was.

The Rider-Servant Achilles checked his new Master’s door, finding it dark and silent. They were likely asleep, which was good for him. He didn’t feel like getting all buddy-buddy with them anyway.

Sprinting out the back door, Achilles then leapt into the sky spinning around to search for where the tug on his chest felt strongest.

There.

He ran and jumped from rooftop to rooftop into the sparkling heart of New York City. The view must be amazing up here, but his eyes were set on something far more precious than any lights.

On the 57th floor of a massive building was a tiny balcony upon which Achilles landed on. He looked around before peering through the glass door into the home inside. He could only spot so much in the darkness, but just as he tried to open the door, the lights flashed on inside, blinding him for a second.

“Achilles?”

That voice. The voice he could recognize in both life and death, whether soft as a hum or loud as a lion’s roar. After blinking the spots away, he gazed softly at the man standing in the doorway. His soft grey almond eyes crinkled slightly as his lips curled into a smile. He wore a black suit that wrinkled with every step he took towards Achilles.

“Patroclus.”

They melted into each other’s arms, pressing their lips together into a burning kiss. It had been eons since Achilles had felt the touch of his lover, but even now, he could trace each and every feature of Patroclus’ body with no mistake.

“It’s really you, Patroclus.” Achilles pulled away just to drown himself in his lover’s eyes once more. He didn’t know what to do. There were so many things he could do or say, and yet…he felt so overwhelmed by the man’s entire existence that any attempts to speak came out as quiet sobs. “I haven't seen you since—“

“Wait.” Patroclus shushed him. He nervously glanced over his shoulder before pushing Achilles away. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

He was taken aback by that. Achilles stepped forward, and Patroclus took a step back. “But…why?”

“We’re Servants now.” He said, “our loyalties lie to our Masters and—“

“Masters be damned!” Rage and frustration built up in his lungs, forcing Achilles to slam down on the balcony’s railing and let out a strained shout into the void that quickly got drowned out by the city noise below. “Why would I care about a pathetic excuse of a Mage when you’re more important than he’ll ever be?!”

Patroclus looked at him, all the kindness and love evaporated from the man’s gaze as he answered with a turned back and a slammed door. The resounding noise of the lock turning followed by the curtains blocking his view shattered his very being. As the city quickly swallowed up the sound of the man’s footsteps, Achilles sank to the ground, unable to carry himself due to the growing hole in his heart. Servants didn’t need oxygen, and yet…he felt as if he was choking. His lungs burned for air, but any attempts to breathe came out as a sputtering cough.

Dusk turned into dawn, and Achilles hadn’t moved a centimeter. He was too dazed to move. Frozen in time, yet his insides burned as hot as the tears flowing from his face. He was a hero, one who never stopped for anyone, but Patroclus…those words snuffed out any spark of courage inside of him.

The sound of a lock turning pulled Achilles out of his misery, and he looked up hoping that Patroclus might’ve changed his mind.

Instead, it was that man from earlier, the one who was supposed to summon him instead of his current Master. His eyes pierced right through Achilles like he wasn’t afraid at all.

“You should leave. Your…” Quinn, or at least that’s what his Master called him, made a disgusted face and waved in his direction, “whatever this is, woke me up too early.”

“I just want Patroclus back.” Achilles muttered.

Quinn rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Well, he doesn’t want you. Tough shit, now please leave. Aren’t you supposed to be with your Master?”

How someone like his Master was friends with such an…asshole, well, he didn’t know. He was beginning to feel grateful that Quinn wasn’t his Master now. Probably forcing Patroclus to do all sorts of horrible things and just being nothing but cruel.

He must be hurting Patroclus, making him say that stuff. Making him leave.

In a fit of rage, he drew his sword and aimed it directly at Quinn’s chest. Achilles gripped the hilt so tightly that his fingers went numb. “I could kill you right now. If you’re doing something to Patroclus, then you should tell me before I rip that head of yours from your neck.”

Quinn, who hadn't even reacted in the slightest, threw his head back in laughter. He clutched his stomach and wiped the tears from his eyes, smiling even as Achilles pressed the tip of his blade against the man’s chest. “You couldn’t hurt me even if you tried. Plus, I’m the one keeping your precious love anchored to this world in the first place, so you might want to get that sword out of my face.”

Achilles, against his better judgment, begrudgingly sheathed his blade. It would be better to keep Quinn alive, unfortunately.

“That’s better. Now,” Quinn leaned against the railing, “I haven’t touched Lancer since he got here a few hours ago. Well, I did give him that suit but that’s it.”

“You’re lying.”

“I only speak the truth.” He replied, “and to be honest, I think that his reluctance is because of you.”

“You’re lying!” Achilles screamed, grabbing Quinn by the collar and shoving him against the glass door, hard enough that cracks webbed out from where he slammed him. “I’ll kill you if you don’t tell me what you did to him!”

Hands gripped his shoulders and wrenched him backward before Patroclus raised his arm up to guard his Master, who staggered back, clutching his chest. “And I’ll kill you before you even take a single step towards my Master.”

“Patroclus…please just—“

“He hasn’t done anything to me. Now it’s time to leave, Achilles, before I slit your throat.”

A look of sadness passed through the man’s eyes, which was quickly replaced by cold rage. “Please…just go, and don’t try this again. Next time we meet, I might not be this kind.”

“Patroclus…..” Achilles said again, softer this time. “Don’t you want to be with me?”

“Go.” He commanded, tears beginning to stream down his face. “From now on, you and I are strangers. I don’t know you, and you sure as hell don’t know me.”

Gritting his teeth, Achilles turned and jumped off. As the air whipped around him, he stole one final glance back up at the balcony. Patroclus and Quinn were already gone.

“I’ll save you, Patroclus.” He promised, “we’ll be together again soon.”

In spirit form, it was a quick trip back to his Master’s house. He arrived just as the sun began to peek over the horizon, casting its glow over the sleepless city. Patroclus would’ve loved this view.

The constant sound of tapping alerted him as he walked up the stairs. Achilles went into his spirit form again, not wanting to have to deal with his Master waking up, only to find that he was still awake, tapping away at some weird…rectangle thingy. The information the Grail gave him told him that it was called a “keyboard”, used to “type” on a “computer”.

Achilles moved in closer, examining the man’s face as he flitted between images on the computer. His eyes drooped every now and then, and Jace fell forward only to catch himself at the last second before he would collide with the screen. He grunted, perhaps in frustration, and placed a hand over his chest, which started to glow with warm golden energy.

A few seconds later, he went straight back to work, although this time, he had more vigor.

Has he been awake the entire night?

Curious as to what could keep his Master up, he stared at the massive screen in front of them, finding many pages filled to the brim with information on spells, incantations, and most importantly, the history of the Holy Grail Wars. Every now and then, Jace would bring his hands together and summon a ball of energy, whether it be forged from ice, fire, or otherwise.

Each spell seemed to suck the life out of him, causing frost to cling to his fingertips which he dusted off on his shoulder. Hell, it looked as if it drained his skin of all life and color. He must be exhausted, and yet, Achilles himself didn’t feel an ounce of fatigue despite his Master’s apparent lack of energy. Perhaps, most of Jace’s remaining Mana must be going to him, even if it meant some sort of damage to his body.

How…selfless of him. Suddenly, Achilles was starting to feel bad for some of the things he said to Patroclus earlier. Still, Jace couldn’t be anything more than the usual conniving Mage who only uses Servants for their bidding. Selfless or not, they’re usually all the same. His priority was winning and reuniting with Patroclus, nothing more.

And yet…maybe there’s more to Jace than meets the eye, especially when he asked about resurrecting someone with the Grail. Maybe they had similar interests, which would definitely benefit them both.

Well, there’s not much he could do but wait and see how things develop. Jace can’t be trusted just yet, Master or not.

#fate grand order #fgo #Fate/Memoriam #writing #My fic #achilles fgo #patroclus #patrochilles #I love how much of an ass Quinn is #Achilles is angy #Oh boy I sure hope this doesn't have dire consequences in the future

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backtothestart02 · 8 months

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Death by Design - 3/? | westallen fanfiction

A/N: My fic of the month is booting up again today! I hope you horror fans enjoy! For any of you who've forgotten, this fic is adapted from the first Final Destination movie. I encourage you to read the first two chaps on ao3 as a refresher, if you need to.

...

Chapter 3 -

Thirty-nine days following the freak explosion of flight 180 over the river in Central City, Barry woke up as he had for each and every one of those days. Feeling exhausted, guilty, and isolated from everyone except his parents. The FBI hadn’t hunted him down, but he knew it was only a matter of time. They were just waiting for something, anything, to point them in his direction. And today was the funeral, a perfect event for them to attend, even from a distance, and watch for moments of weakness.

Barry crawled out of bed, showered, skipped breakfast and made his way over to the outdoor funeral at 10 in the morning. He tried to pay attention to the principal who was giving the eulogy for the loss of so many precious souls, but it was hard with the glares coming from several of his classmates and even their families. Cisco’s in particular hit hard.

Cisco didn’t blame him. He knew that in his heart, as well as from the one text they’d exchanged over the last month. But he wasn’t allowed to talk to him or be near him. Simply being in the same audience with him on this beautiful, sorrow-filled day was enough to fill Cisco’s dad with rage. He kept it contained to avoid making a scene, but Barry could feel it growing. He couldn’t wait to get out of there.

Soon enough the speech came to an end and music began to play after the display of a grand in memoriam statue dedicated to the fallen students and teachers aboard the plane that fateful night several weeks ago. The music indicated a sign to come up with the roses presented to each individual, mostly students, and place it in front of everybody, the last gesture those that had died would ever receive.

Barry looked around one last time before getting up and spotted one face that when he wasn’t feeling absolutely miserable as hell, which wasn’t often, consumed his very being. The face of a girl that had stood up for him from the very beginning, who had believed him on sure faith alone that he was right, whose loyalty hadn’t depended on anything but his frantic desperation on the plane.

Iris. Iris West.

The curious protectiveness he felt for her trickled through him in that moment, but he did his best to shake it off and look away. Maybe he could intercept Cisco, and they could share a few words. And he’d avoid Hunter at all costs. The last thing he needed was another altercation like the one on the plane, even if it had saved the jerk’s life in the process.

Of course luck had never been in Barry’s favor.

He ended up right behind Hunter and Caitlin, holding each other close. But even that gesture of intimacy couldn’t stop Hunter from muttering something despicable to Barry right behind him.

“I hope you don’t think, Allen, that just because my name ain’t on this wall, that I owe you anything.”

“I don’t,” Barry said, wishing a beat later that he’d kept his mouth closed.

Hunter spun around, sounding a degree more emotional than Barry had expected.

“Because all I owe is to these people, to live my life to the fullest-”

“Why don’t you go ahead and stay off the drugs then, maybe, huh?”

Barry could smell it on him, and he was feeling spiteful. The guy could just not leave him alone. As was proven twice over when he grabbed the label of his jacket and pulled him nearly on top of him.

“Listen, jackass, I control my life, not you. You got that?”

“Got it.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Hunter,” Caitlin intervened, standing between them, begging with her eyes that her boyfriend drop it.

“I’m never gonna die,” Hunter said, forcing himself to relax as he stepped away from both the girl he loved and the boy he despised, leaving them both stunned.

Caitlin looked at Barry with something between sympathy and an apology for her boyfriend’s behavior. But in the end, her hand about to squeeze his shoulder removed itself, and she followed after Hunter.

Ralph came up to Barry seconds later, and the look on his face told Barry loud and clear he did not want to deal with whatever he had to say. But the conversation hadn’t even started yet, and there was still time to get to Cisco, so he kept himself in check and greeted him civilly.

“Hi, Barry,” Ralph said.

“Hi.”

“I took my driver’s test at the DMV last week. Lowest score I could get, but I still got it. So I can drive now.”

“That’s great, Ralph,” Barry said, looking through the line for where Cisco might be and wanting this conversation to be done asap.

But Ralph wasn’t done.

“The thing is, the guy who sits in the car with you when you do the test, you know?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, he goes, ‘Young man, you’re going to die at a very young age.’”

Barry blinked.

Where was he going with this?

“Is that true?” Ralph asked, looking to him like he had all the answers.

And that was just not what Barry needed in that moment.

“Not now, not here, not ever, Ralph,” he spat, a venom in his eyes he didn’t anticipate.

Ralph didn’t quite seem to get it and took it literally instead. He tried to ask another question, and Barry blew him off. Ralph wasn’t his problem, and he needed to get himself together if he was going to ‘live life to the fullest’ like Hunter seemed to think was also his mission.

Ms. Horton was standing alone by the other roses on a low table when Barry reached the front. He thought it was the decent thing to do to approach her and offer some sort of condolences, her being his teacher and all. But this time it was his turn to be blown off.

“Ms. Hort-”

She sniffled angrily and turned away.

“Don’t talk to me. You scare the hell out of me.”

And then he was alone again. Some day this was turning out to be.

“Hey.”

And then the dawning light. Neither looked at each other, not wanting to rouse the adults from their seats. But Barry felt a sense of relief, and he hoped Cisco did too as he dropped his rose on the table beside him.

“Hey.”

Barry’s lips twitched.

“Cisco, I uh…I miss you, you know?”

Cisco fought to keep a straight face and failed.

“I miss you, too, buddy.” He paused. “But you know, my dad, he just…he can’t-”

“I know.”

Cisco swallowed.

“Whenever he gets over this though, we’ll road trip on out of here. Forget this place even exists. That sound good?”

“Sounds great.”

Cisco forced a smile, and their eyes locked, both smiles vanishing in a heartbeat.

“I should go.”

Barry nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah, me too. Take care.”

And he was gone.

Barry turned to leave, to head back to his seat, and then there she was in front of him. Beautiful and petite and so earnest, presenting her rose to him instead of to the dead.

“Because of you, I’m still alive,” her voice broke. “Thank you.”

A flash of a camera behind them ruined the moment. Barry turned towards the photographer, aggravated, and when he looked back at Iris, she was heading towards her seat, and she wasn’t looking back. And he hated that for all intents and purposes, to everyone in front of him, he probably looked like he was longing for her as she left his side.

The painful fact was he was.

…

Later that night, death came again.

This time it wasn’t nearly as explosive as the plane incident had been.

It was quiet, and it began with a gentle breeze blowing through the smallest opening in a window leading into one of the bathrooms of the Ramon household.

Cisco was there, using the bathroom, and he didn’t notice that when he was on the toilet, the water at the base of the pipes started to drip.

He didn’t notice that after he shut the window, there was still a deathly breeze traveling through the room, inflicting it like a curse.

He didn’t notice that the door closed without him shutting it.

He thought he shut it, or maybe he thought it had been the breeze before he’d shut the window. But it hadn’t. It was no natural windy breeze. It was the curse of death, and with nothing to stop its death trail, Cisco would soon succumb to it.

Because the water trickling down from the toilet pipes hadn’t wedged its way into the tiles leading across the bathroom yet.

No, that waited until he was standing in front of the mirror trying to dry shave the prickly short hairs along his jaw line and under his chin. It caused a cut, just a dash of blood, enough to be mildly concerned and stop for a moment, not noticing still that the water filling the gaps in the tiles was tracking right towards him.

Death even presented itself to him once before attacking, making a rippling shadow appear along the shower curtain in the mirror. But when Cisco turned around to see what strictly stayed in the hell hole that was horror movies, the shadow was gone.

He picked up a small tool to cut away some nose hairs – as one does – and narrowly avoided slipping on the approaching water with the sharp tool in his hand. He then plugged in a music player into the outlet, the water just inches away, and then unplugged it and moved away.

Death was getting frustrated by that point. It had to be. So many times already that Cisco Ramon had narrowly escaped its grasp. It had to take action.

Cisco pushed the shower curtain aside to find several clothing items drying on a long tight string. He started to remove them and took the final fatal step onto the leaking toilet water. Before he could stop himself, he had fallen into the tub, the string wrapped tightly around his neck, tighter and tighter, rising higher and higher. He was choking, his eyes starting to bleed, his feet blindly trying to get him to stand up but they’d caught the soap at the bottom of the tub and couldn’t manage to stay still for even a few moments, let alone stand up and to safety in the middle of the tub.

And when finally Cisco’s body gave itself over to death’s intention and fell limp, the breeze trickled back out the sealed window, and the water that had fallen into the crevices between the bathroom tiles retreated back into the water pipes at the bottom of the toilet, as if it had never been there at all.

#westallen #westallen fanfiction #backtothestart02 fanfiction #death by design #chapter 3

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ellesfruitcart · 1 year

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in memoriam de.

“in memoriam de Achoo? No, Pikachu’s revamp; abiit autem numquam oblivione delebitur.”

“in memory of de Achoo? No, Pikachu’s revamp; gone but never forgotten.”

Elle stared at the plaque on the wall, where she had put her code to rest. By then, the guests had left, the food had gone cold, and the sun had long set.

If only she had thought for a split second longer. If only she had read what she had been doing instead of haphazardly clicking along her screen.

Maybe, just maybe, her code would still be alive.

The two hours she spent coding might seem short to some—and honestly, two hours is quite short in the tech world—yet the pain Elle felt was that of an everlasting pain. She mourned not only the code she had poured her dedication, her craft, her heart and her soul into, but also what it could have been.

The code was meant to be updated version of Achoo? No, Pikachu. She had just recently found the motivation to revive the broken code from her first WoX era. Achoo? No, Pikachu was lost, desolate, fragmented. It contained tens of bugs simply waiting to be squashed; it was missing parts simply waiting to be repaired.

Today, Elle had her tools by her side, and she was ready to wield them. She readied herself and set off in hopes of fixing her code for herself and for other WoXers to enjoy.

Alas, fate is cruel, and she was her own downfall.

It took but a soft click of a mouse to erase her hard work.

It took but a second to delete the code from existence.

Yet she would always remember Achoo? No, Pikachu’s planned update.

“Rest well, dear friend.”

Elle gazed upon the plaque once more, her hand softly grazing it as if to comfort the lost thing.

“Thank you for everything.”

#basically i lost a code i spent 2 hours working on #and instead of recoding like a normal person #i decided to write an ao3 level fic to mourn it #niya ily i said i'd mention you but i got so into the flow of writing #part 2 maybe #this is my coping mechanism #im so sad about losing this code like actually #im sobbing #why am i like this

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divinemaggot · 11 months

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The world is a Great Wheel that grows tall and withers in equal measure. All things ride its turnings; ruling for a time flowering and splendid, fruits of life's magnificence. Then we grow old and stagnate, returning to the hungry earth to nurture the next cycle. In this way we live our lives in eternal change, becoming more then less then more again. Life can be found in all things here, it permeates the very foundations of existence. Tis not for us to judge when wild animals tear at one another, or great oaks take root in corpse dross, or fungi enslave whole colonies of social insects.

Naturally this makes a bridge between the ephemeral and flesh, as much between wilderness and civilization. Death hungers for life, just as life aches to pass its time on the Wheel. Hungry Ghosts crave the sensations of the living, while living beings strain to pierce the Veil that is only a turning away. Those Wise of The Wheel seek sacred Mysteries like the Empress Hanging herself; shades clothed in flesh and speaking through beasts’ cries. They are but two sides of the same coin. A stag runs through the woods leaving a trail of blood. His flesh will sing in the stomach of the hunter and kudzu will grow along his bones. This is Its Truth, flowers blooming splendid before being plucked and pressed between the pages of the Old Ways.

Time moves forward, yes. But here, in the fullness of the Wheel, time has no true substance, for growth and decay birth one another in the same instant, there are no beginnings or ends, nor past or future. Only a cycle always moving in ceaseless cycles unto eternity.

Things happen. They always have and always will; this is how the Wheel sees Fate, markings on the spokes that signify important events but will naturally happen in the same way, just more worn. Eventually these testaments to experience will erode to the point of no longer being recognizable from their origin, but that is simply the nature of things.

Space is the movements of the Wheel itself; connections growing and dying in lockstep. Sympathy & synchronicities are simply where ourself and others have gone, and will continue to go. When Fate and Space run together in harmony they keep things going at a holistic rate; relationships cultivated then returned to the earth as right to do.

The Wheel and its Turners have gods of their own. They are primordial things, representing that which is of substance here, great hunting wolves, and leviathans of the abyssal deeps. But also, the lesser things equally of importance, the first corpse to be interred to a graveyard and the wheat seed that will eventually feed thousands; exalted as they are, for they are life clothed in death, and death clothed in life. All things have power, yet it is those who create momentum in the Wheel who are truly impactful.

I have found Timber's Wise have difficulty discerning where the line is drawn between the elemental forces & extancy; as they do with most things, we simply don't care much to ponder it though. Are the massive storms or roaring wildfire that ravage hearth and land really that different from the Wild Hunts of old? What matters to the Wheel's Truth is not in these details but rather in how it changes nothing. Of course tsunamis rip apart fishers' homes and disturb aquatic ecosystems, but new spirits join the local cycles and sediment rearranges the topsoil in peculiar ways. And those who survive another day will adapt to it all or perish.

Yet the Wheel is not as wild as it appears. The symbols and rites invoked here may be frightening to a people who have forgotten the true sacrament of sacrifice, but they are its fundament, and even the most detached city-dweller offers their own obeisance. Grinding the grain, seeding the soil, slaughtering the lamb, and brewing the beer distinguished complex creatures from the more base; they still do. Burying the dead and hoping they will be reborn to whatever next comes, we build our testaments of memoriam for those who no longer walk among us as if it matters. And in ways, it does. Both royalty and fodder, all things are the Wheel, and the Wheel is in all things.

#Wheel #personal philosophy #all is as it always was #royal and fodder #truth of a kind #worldview

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mauricethemoose · 1 year

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in memoriam

In Memoriam

The world around me is still.

Tall grass rises to my knees, yet it does not shift. Silence envelops me – there is no hum of cicadas, no rustle of leaves. My clothes have bound to my skin, no cedar-scented breeze catches my hair.

There is a gate in front of me.

I almost know where I am – I feel as though I am Tantalus, yearning for something I cannot touch, almost in reach. My surroundings, I have seen them before. I know it. Yet the memories fade on my tongue like the sweet berries of summer.

The gate stands alone. Its iron has been wrought in slopes and curves, the deep blue of Homer’s wine-coloured sea. I do not wish to open this gate, though I know I cannot step back. I reach for it.

It swings.

I step through.

There is a hummingbird caged within my chest, its wings are hitting, pounding to escape. I do not remember closing my eyes. I do not want to open them. I take another step, and my foot sinks into a hole.

A hole?

I open my eyes and peer down. No, not a hole. A footprint, a deep one – it reaches where the grass once itched my knees. I feel as though I am child buried under a pile of worn sheets, paralyzed by the prospect the monster waiting for me should my feet escape their current spot. I must look. I cannot remain here forever. Can I not? Could I stand here until my legs give way, until my hands cannot hold me up? Yet I know my fate will wait for me until exhaustion has stolen away with all but my soul. I look up.

I am surrounded by a sea of cement. Cascades of moonlight illuminate statues of mourning.

I begin to walk. I am amidst an army of death. I do not know where I am heading, but I continue. With each step, I feel as though I am gaining the weight of all that is behind me. I walk on.

The graves grow younger. There are no names, only dates. I am close to the end, I must be. Each breath shatters within me.

I see a coffin.

The hummingbird begins to stir.

This is my destination, I know it. Who is in there? Who has died? Who have I lost? These thoughts swim in my mind – no, they do not swim. They tsunami.

I stumble as I begin to run. I trip on a stone as I reach the coffin – it is a deep brown, polished, softly glowing in the night. I glance back at the stone my foot had found – a day has been carved into its smooth edge. Today.

Who are you?

‘Open it’

I turn to see a child. The hummingbird within me begins to struggle, pressing against my skin. I am sure they can see it. Eyes meet my own.

‘I said, open it’

I do not reply, I cannot. I will not open it. I no longer wish to know. They say nothing, they only stare.

I recognize the soft hair, the wide eyes. The child is me.

‘Open it’

No. I will not. I open my mouth to say these things, yet the words fall from my tongue. I step towards the bed that contains eternal sleep. I shut my eyes and find the edge of the lid. I tug.

Have you ever fallen down a flight of stairs? Falling down the stairs is not the part that you fear – it is the half second in which your feet do not reach where they should. It the moment where you are suspended in the air, fearing the pain of the fall.

I open the lid.

I begin to fall. I do not stop.

It is me.

I am inside.

~ ~ ~

(originally published on Flash Fiction Magazine, 2022)

#short story #short fiction #writers on tumblr #spiritualism #young author #published #writing #story #fic #sylvia plath #classic literature #mary shelley #tumblr #art #academia #romantic academia #dark acamedia #dark femininity #souls

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