#if I get inspired to write another ficlet in this verse it will be an alternate Episode 7 with kisses! and cuteness
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20 Questions for AO3 Writers
I was tagged in this FOREVER ago by @the-frankenman-writes I'm sorry it took me so long to get to!
1. How many works do you have on A03?
89
2. What's your total AO3 word count?
84,067 (my fics are usually pretty short haha)
3. What fandoms do you write for?
Quantum Leap (TV 2022) (18)
Dragon Age (Video Games) (17)
Detroit: Become Human (Video Game) (11)
Original Work (10)
Dead by Daylight (Video Game) (10)
The Witcher (TV) (6)
The Sandman (TV 2022) (5)
Doctor Who (5)
Elder Scrolls Online (2)
Critical Role (Web Series) (1)
Torchwood (1)
F.E.A.R. (Video Games) (1)
Mass Effect Trilogy (1)
The Champions (TV 1968) (1)
Baldur's Gate (Video Games) (1)
4. What are your top five fics by kudos?
The Cold and Dark (Detroit: Become Human)
Holy, Holy, Holy (Original)
Her Sweet Kiss (The Witcher)
Just A Scratch (The Witcher)
Less Than Stellar Judgement (The Witcher)
(,,, people really like my Geraltskier whump fics huh XD)
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
Yes! I respond to basically every comment I get, even if all I can usually manage is some variation of "sfkgjhsfkgj thank you!!" because I have no idea how to take praise but I want the commenter to know they mean the world to me
6. What's the fic you wrote with the angiest ending?
Ooooooooof uhhhhh probably the little Detroit: Become Human ficlet I did called I Will Go Down. TW for suicide XD But there are a lot of angsty fics on there so who knows lmao
7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
Most of my fics end pretty bittersweet but I think Hope (Doctor Who) is one of my happiest endings <3
8. Do you get hate on fics?
No, surprisingly! My fics don't usually have much reach tbf. The only time I got anything close to "hate" was an ableist saying my disabled Dragon Age Inquisition OC is unrealistic to the setting and would likely be "with their clan or dead".
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
Sometimes! Usually it's abstract (a la Holy, Holy, Holy) or porn with feelings (a la A Tale of Yearning) but I've been known to indulge in a lil PWP on occasion
10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?
Just one! I have an ongoing Torchwood x Quantum Leap crossover 'verse thanks to @chaos-of-the-endless 😂 I also wrote a Baldur's Gate x Dead by Daylight AU recently!
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Not as far as I'm aware
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
I don't believe so (please tell me if you ever do!)
13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?
no but some of my fics were inspired by other people or based on RP I've done in the past
14. What is your all time favorite ship?
Oh don't even XD uhhhhh right now it's Jenn&Ian from Quantum Leap and Geralt/Yennefer/Jaskier from the Witcher but my shipping loves go so far back I could never name an all time favourite
15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
Family Reunion :( I've been trying to write it for,,,, basically as long as I've been writing but I can never finish it and then years pass and I hate it and think it's cringe and want to start it from scratch, rinse and repeat)
16. What are your writing strengths?
Taking an impulsive headcanon and running with it. I have so many ficlets just because I thought of a headcanon and NEEDED to put it to the page. I also enjoy angst and hurt/comfort, things that expand on already existing angst and make it WORSE :3
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
In fic writing it's definitely description. I tend to get carried away in dialogue and forget to Say Other Stuff but I think I have a good handle on it now. That and smut, I enjoy writing it but I have to be either In The Mood or shut off my brain so I don't cringe so hard I delete it all bc I struggle with explicit content and get embarassed when things I'm writing are at all Kinky bc I have a crippling fear of judgement
18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language for a fic?
As a reader I enjoy it! As a writer, just be careful, stick to one or two words rather than full dialogue if you don't have the time or energy to deep-google that shit
19. First fandom you wrote for?
Doctor Who <3
20. Favorite fic you've ever written?
this changes daily but at the moment I'm loving Something More and the rest of my Sandman fics revolving around the dream OC I made for it. I'm in love with them and I enjoy writing their dynamic with the Endless siblings too <3
Tagging: anyone who wants to do this <3
#about#writing#ao3 writer#fanfic writer#tag game#fanfiction tag game#writer tag game#writers on tumblr#quantum leap 2022#quantum leap nbc#doctor who#torchwood#the witcher#the sandman
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Year of the OTP - February Prompt (Truth Pollen): Know Your Guilt
Ah yes, posting a February prompt in late March. How on brand. I absolutely fell flat on my ass in March, health and mental-health wise but I'm back and doing a lot of writing these last two weeks. Not promising anything because everything goes wrong when I do.
Anyway, another short space-verse ficlet; one, I'm in a world-building mood at the moment, and two, there's an anthology I'm planning on submitting to later in the year and I'm using space fic as a bit of a warm-up for that. However, March's piece is half done and I promise, it's a Canon AU.
When the call came in from Jovan, no one was thrilled to go. A small planet that prized its wild forests, the biggest settlement was little more than a village with a population that was deeply cautious around off-worlders. In recent years, small resistance groups calling for complete isolation had started protesting off-worlders and it was just… annoying. Annoying to have things thrown at them, supplies stolen, the ship vandalised. No one seemed particularly grateful for thousands of credits of medical supplies they desperately needed; or willing to offer food and water in return. There were only two reasons they went: the first was how solemnly Carlisle took his vow of helping without judgement, and the fact that the Federation paid them more than fairly for the trouble.
Alice was up and working again, shutting herself in the analyst office for hours every day with Edward. She was quiet and pale, and still visiting the med bay for oxygen and supplements regularly. Her new augmentations were fitted, but she was still limping as they settled, most of the muscle from her calf and thigh cut away. Jovan wasn’t an ideal job for someone so fragile, and Jasper honestly wished Carlisle had taken any other of the jobs on offer.
“It’ll be fine,” Emmett says, after Alice leaves breakfast having eaten only a minuscule portion, and chased it with a blue med-patch on her temple. “It’s boring, but we’ll get some decent fruit and some of that wine that fucks everyone up, and then Carlisle wants to dock with the Denali because Eleazer needs some bro time.”
It’ll be fine.
Famous last words.
—
So the protestors have become terrorists. No one was expecting that; the same way that no one was expecting Esme - of all people - to have grabbed a pistol from the gun-lock.
It’s a pretty routine visit. A lot of nodding regarding the supplies, a line up of worried looking women and children who need medical attention beyond the shaman and midwives the culture insists upon. The older men refuse all care with a silent mood of disdain and disinterest; the younger ones are curious but will not be witnessed to seek out Carlisle and Rose.
It’s dullest for him and Emmett, who are on security for the whole day; Rosalie is often a target of violence because of her former people’s beliefs, and people mistake Esme’s gentleness for weakness. And no matter how ‘peaceful’, a community is, there are always thieves.
Alice is seated in the corner with a tablet, logging supplies and patients quietly - few of the population will offer their real names or ages, so the records are nigh on useless for keeping track of the people, but the Federation demands them.
It all goes wrong when Rosalie inspects the cut on a leg of a boy just at puberty - all and wiry and very ill. Rose looks grim as she begins treatment (cutting the wound open to drain, medication and packing, wrapping, and antibiotics). The boy is weeping as she works, Esme talking quietly to him, and Jasper is sympathetic because the shiny black substance beneath the infection of the wound is bone. And whatever grass-scented poultice the shamans have used on him has inspired an angry, weeping allergic reaction. The kid is a mess.
It surprises everyone when the explosion - if it can be called that - happens. The bang in the village centre, just outside of the guest hut they use, sounds more like a cheap party cracker than a serious weapon. But Esme hands him the pistol and he and Emmett go out, and he can’t understand spoken Jovan well enough but Emmett certainly can and he looks horrified. People are moving away, vanishing into the words, into homes and businesses, as a group of very, very angry men begin yelling a message out.
“We’re leaving right now.” Emmett is closing off the gate to the hut, and no one complains that they haven’t attended to everyone.
Carlisle is complaining, and Rosalie is trying to work faster, and Esme is packing the things when the next explosion happens just outside the wall and half of the building crumples - made out of wood beams and huge leaves coated with some kind of amber-venom-resin substance, there is little resistance.
Alice is already dialling into the ship, to alert Edward to what is happening, to pull up the GPS location of the ship and their trackers on the big screen.
“Yeah, they just called for our deaths for invading their sacred space, we need to go,” Emmett snaps, and Emmett getting snappy is what makes them all get their shit together.
Except three more bombs are thrown as they emerge, and everyone scatters away from the path - supplies are dropped, Alice’s tablet is crushed underfoot, and they all dart into the forest; Jasper follows Rose’s blonde braid into the underbrush and when he turns around, the damn terrorists are following them.
He can’t see Alice, and the wheeze of Carlisle’s hydraulics has faded.
They run for a short time - away from the ship, which annoys the shit out of him - before they burst into a clearing, all from different angles.
The tree reminds him of an Earth Willow, with long drifting branches that he and Rose have to push through, throwing clouds of green-yellow pollen into the air. He’s relieved to see Emmett dragging Alice along, her gait lopsided and awkward. Both of them are filthy, with abrasions on their faces. Somehow, the faint dusting of pollen on Alice’s hair and face are beautiful, the way it clings to her eye lashes and hair.
“I love you.”
The words are husky and rough, and the thing that alarms him the most are the fact that they are said by him. Rosalie is looking at him incredulously, but in a way that implies something much bigger is happening, her hair sticking to her face.
Her short hair. Rose has long hair.
His mouth is so dry, and Carlisle is wheezing, and suddenly Rosalie is scratching at her face and letting out this terrible noise, and Esme drops to the ground and begins to sob and Alice just stands there and starts saying things, these things that he worries about late at night, and he can’t stop saying that he loves her and he’s sorry and he hates what he did.
Emmett is talking but everything is a blur of noise so he can’t understand it, but what he does finally understand, as Rose’s spine elongates and Emmett throws his stained jacket over her as a cloak, is that something is terribly, terribly wrong.
Carlisle is gasping through words and Alice is calm, even if she is rocking as she talks, staring off into the distance.
And Jasper just dreads the moment when everything stops and he has to hear, really hear, every ugly little truth that’s been thrown into the air.
—
It takes another hour to find their way back to the ship. Rosalie is crying, but it’s an angry, rage-filled cry that sounds rasping and harsh; he cannot see her face from underneath the hood of Emmett’s jacket, but he doesn’t try very hard.
Edward is pacing as they climb the ramp, Emmett scowling at the message scrawled crudely across the hull.
“Know your guilt,” he mutters. “I’m not fucking coming back here, Carlisle.”
Jasper agrees.
—
The pollen sticks to them, green-yellow dust that stains the skin if they try to brush it away. The decontamination shower takes far too long to strip it from their skin, and it’s late as they take their places around the dining table. Esme has piled the table with odds and ends from their supplies, no one interested in preparing a fresh meal.
The seaweed noodles are particularly slimy and salty as leftovers, but reassuring in a silly way - like a favourite meal from childhood. How many times did Carlisle prepared seaweed noodles when she first joined the ship? It was the first meal he taught her to cook from scratch successfully.
She can’t look at anyone as she eats, the words still hovering in the air, the way they forced themselves out of her like she had been holding her breath and gasping for air.
You weren’t supposed to save me. I was supposed to die. Why didn’t you let me go?
Emmett’s putting the left over fritters on Rose’s plate, not making eye contact. Rose is icy and not really eating, her hair scraped so tightly into a bun that Alice’s own scalp pinches at the thought of it. Rose got it the worst, much worse than those words forcing themselves from her mouth - the pollen had stripped away her face, stripped her right back down to a Faceless. Seeing Rose hunched and curled over on herself, making a rasping noise that Alice likened to hysterical shrieks of rage.
(She’d never seen Emmett move so fast, peeling off his jacket as he rambled about cheating on an engineering test to get on his first ship, about reversing charges to afford to get all his siblings into the right classes, about being the one that killed Esme’s dansi plant. He’d draped it over Rose’s back and head, letting her cloak herself in fabric.)
Esme’s eyes are still red, and Carlisle looks a hundred years older.
Jasper she cannot look at. She’s been avoiding it since they got onto the ship, since Carlisle forced the masks on them all, pushing oxygen laced with inhalant painkiller, allowed them to clear the pollen from their lungs and tissue.
(“I love you, I always loved you and always will, and that why I hated you so much.”)
(“You didn’t love me enough not to hurt me, and that scared me more than I’ve ever been in my entire life. I’ve been in the ugliest places, I’ve starved and been hunted like an animal, and your rage was what broke me.”)
Emmett had grabbed her by the arm after she dropped the tablet, half dragged her away. He’d been on Jovan before, during the last generation of extremists, back on his first or second ship. The way they executed anyone who came too close to the off-worlders - men, women, children. The ship had lost five people - two had been murdered falling behind during evacuation; one had disappeared, and two had been taken hostage and integrated into the community as some kind of warning or living sacrifice.
“I didn’t really speak much Jovan back then,” Emmett admitted, hoisting her over a fallen tree with one arm, still running. “Did a few trips out here, got to see the before and the after. Hoped the after would stick.”
The Federation had intervened back then, dealt with the extremists and put in place a strict agreement for Jovan. Then it had been a relatively chill place to visit - free fruit and booze, and a hefty Federation pay check. That was the Jovan Emmett had aggressively tried to remember.
“Religion fucks everything up,” Emmett had told her before they had both fallen down the side of a hill and she didn’t get a chance to agree.
(The pollen tasted sharp, and she’s not surprised that her mouth is bloody when she gets back to the ship, that something that could force out their darkest truths did so by burrowing into the soft flesh of their mouths and gums and noses. It’s the taste of the blood that lingers.)
—
She curls up on the bed in the guest suite, the oxygen mask tight over her mouth. Her lungs were still giving her trouble, something that Carlisle was keeping a careful eye on, and over the last few weeks, the feeling of the mask moulded flush over her face has become reassuring, the cool feeling of the oxygen.
There’s nothing that can take back all those things that she said, or the things Jasper said, staring at her desperately. Love and hate and regret and trauma was all twisted up into a mess; when she closes her eyes, she can see his desperate look, his eyes soft, and it’s like the old him is there - the one that made plans with her, that laughed often, and asked her to marry him with a fruit-flavoured kiss, and helped her save the flowers from her hair after the ceremony.
He’s right there, he’s so close, and he might as well be gone forever. And she deserved it. She knew the lie, she lived the lie, and she pretended that whatever they had was worth tucking it away and hiding it, that it was cruel to tell him - as if it wasn’t crueller and sneakier to hide it.
She might fear the rage, the violence that came with the truth, but she deserved it, earned it well. Whatever the others think, she didn’t leave because he scared her or hurt her or anything. She left to punish herself, to make sure he had the safe space. It was always her fuck up that ruined them.
(Sometimes, she dreams of that last night. Of his hand so tight in her hair that he pulled it out, threatening her in a dark voice. She cut her hair off after that, to her chin. Too short to hold her tight and frozen, to tangle around his hands. She’s blocked out everything else from that night, but not that. That memory sticks to her, along with the animal fear she felt, dangling off a precipice of something terrible about to happen.)
The idea that everyone knows everything, all the thoughts in her head that she tucks down and doesn’t talk about makes her feel sick and she wonders where she could go and hide. Call Carlisle’s bluff and get him to send her to a mental health spa. Or even go stay at Masen House for a while, use her health as an excuse. There’s still a few staff at Masen House, so it’s not like Carlisle would be paying for her upkeep specially.
(It wasn’t a death wish, really. She knew the doctors she sought out were, at best, shitty scam-artists who knew that she had no choice but to pay up and accepted whatever standard of care they gave her. And that she was sick again. She was tired, worn out, and done with everything. She didn’t plan to be dead, she just expected it. It’s why she didn’t have any food or water in her bag; seemed like a waste of money. And Jasper… he had the paperwork to prove he was her next of kin, if there was any debate. Her savings could have paid off his fines, a final apology for lying to him. It seemed very, very neat right up until Rose found her semi-conscious and decided to save her and ignored her when she tried to protest.)
Her lens beeps at her - someone wanting to come in - and she expects Carlisle when she absently accepts and the door unlocks.
But it’s Jasper.
She feels very vulnerable as he slips into the room, carrying a drink and a dish with something pink on it.
“Esme found some old dessert in the freeze,” he says awkwardly, setting the drink and plate down. “We thought you might need some.”
She nods. It’s always like this; her tiny and curled up in the big guest bed in flimsy ship-issue sleepwear because she hasn’t gotten around to digging out her old boxes from storage, with an oxy-mask strapped to her face; and Jasper looms over her in clean clothes, his hair tied off his face, looking exactly as he always does.
They haven’t talked since she woke up in med bay with him sitting beside her. Nothing beyond pleasantries, really.
“Thank you.” Her voice is muffled and raspy. He nods.
“…Do you want some company?”
He’s staring at the floor when he says that, and everything in her clenches up in a confusing mess of delight and hope and fear.
There are a million different things that ‘company’ could mean, and she’s just still so tired, she’s not sure she can manage any of them.
She looks at the sweets that Esme sent to her - a little pink sponge-square, with seeds pressed into the top. Sweet, like some kind of fruit-flower hybrid. Made by Esme, humming to herself in the kitchen. It’s a child’s sweet - offered to children from vendors in the parks of most cities - and something about that makes her sad.
“No,” she replies softly and she feels like a monster when Jasper flinches and nods, moving to leave.
“Not yet,” she manages, and that makes him turn back to look at her with desperate, naked hope in his eyes.
“Not yet?” He repeats and she nods. “You… you let me know when, okay?”
She nods, and he leaves, and she closes her eyes and pretends that the idea of ‘when’ isn’t terrifying and thrilling all at the same time.
(“You’re it for me. I love you. And that scares and angers and delights me, and I don’t know if it can ever happen again because of everything we did to each other. I think I ruined the one good thing that I ever had, and that makes me wonder why I even bother.”
The words taste bloody and tears of frustration roll down her face and the dry, angry sounds of Rosalie losing control feel right - raw and real and painful.)
#the twilight saga#alice cullen#jasper hale#jalice#year of the otp#yoto23: truth pollen#prompts#my fic: know your guilt#my fic: one-shot#my fic: space-verse
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So, I was scrolling in your ao3 profile for the thousand time, as one usually does, and playing with the filters to see if there was any nhie fic I hadn't read before or if I was in the mood to reread any of my favs, when something kinda surprised me: apparently you wrote 34 nhie fics and devi is a character in 29 of them and ben is a character in 30 of them, even though you claim devi is your fave. Just wanted to point that out cuz it made me laugh, especially bc my mind immediately pictured them bantering about it like ofc they would bicker even about who is the most featured character in cori's fics xD
so many points i want to respond to. first - someone suggesting that my bestest blorbos, ben and devi, would care about being the most featured in my fics is possibly the cutest thing ever said to me. top contender, for sure!
second - gahh, i know, i haven't posted anything since last fuckin year, and even then, late last year was pretty quiet on the fic front. i haven't been reblogging prompt games or indulging any of my 'quick' one-shot ideas because inspiration has been very touch-and-go for the last year and i am stockpiling it for 'a lie away from getting you into the mood', the longer installment of the bitty spark 'verse. at the pace i'm moving now, there's a reasonable chance i'll start posting around june. which probably sounds like a long ways away to you, but will be a monumental feat of will on my part - if i pull it off.
thank you for reading my work. thank you for rereading my work.
third - the implication that devi being tagged in fewer of my fics than ben points to her not being my favorite character is reductive. the context matters.
that said, the opportunity to be obnoxious about my fic catalogue is invaluable to me. again, i thank you.
forth - let's get obnoxious!
fics tagged ben but not devi:
- double vision, in a rose blush (three times ben unexpectedly finds himself in the middle of a daydream about devi and the one time it makes perfect sense to him)
- birds do it, bees do it, even educated fleas do it (howard gross does two things right: eats pussy and gives useful sex talks)
- (you have become a) constant (without headphones and a proper distraction for the bus ride home, ben compiles a list of weird things he easily might have said to devi while drunk on grigio)
fics tagged devi but not ben:
- are you sure you want to delete this photo? (cute af daxton prompt fill)
- meet me where you are (on top of the world) (another prompt fill, one that asked for kamala & devi, but then mr. k spilled all over my inspiration)
fics not tagged with either of them:
- the two fabiola/eleanor ficlets i've written
what does it mean what does it all mean: devi's still very much a part of both 'double vision' and 'constant', but she's not tagged because the version of her that we're seeing doesn't exist outside of ben's head. i mean, that's truer of 'constant' than 'double vision', she honestly could have been tagged in the latter, and the devi that lives in ben's head is still very much a real aspect of devi. but since she's not devi on her own terms, it felt/feels disingenuous to tag her as a character in either fic.
so, that makes 'birds do it, bees do it' the only ben fic in my catalogue that doesn't have anything to do with devi. both of the devi-not-ben fics have nothing to do with ben.
if we're going to take away anything from this exercise, though, let's appreciate how my first fic ever, my entry into writing for the show - 'constant' - is about examining devi from ben's pov. it felt/feels most comfortable to me because i'm just as in love with her as he is. because she is undeniably my favorite character.
#*mic drop*#but also i am kissing you on the top of your sweet sweet head anon#anon#replies#my fic#devi x ben#never have i ever
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2022 Fic Year in Review
I thought it would be nice to look back on my fics from 2022 and share a few stats.
Number of fics written: 82
WIPs: Grace (3/10) and Prompt Ficlets II (19/25)
Word count: 233,128
List of fandoms: BBC Ghosts, Yonderland, Bill 2015, Horrible Histories and CBS Ghosts
Work with most kudos: This Place (I never thought would feel like home) and Bring Him Home - both with 130 kudos.
General thoughts: After publishing more than 80 fics in a year, it's hard to pick personal favourites. All my fics are dear to me in one way or another but I can't deny that some still stand out and feel a little special. This Place (I never thought would feel like home) because it's a multi-chaptered character study of Thomas I've poured my heart and soul into; the Button House Museum series because it works exceptionally well as an AU and doesn't lose all the things that make canon interesting; the Second Chances series because I love writing Voltari and Dissectus as not so evil Evil Overlords; my Yonderland fics in general because looking back on them, it feels a little amazing to have build so much from so little canon information; Old Habits because it took me a while to get it right; The First Step because I still feel sad about the portrait situation and am glad I fixed it; and finally, my Norne fics - especially A Good Thing and A Little Faith, but also The Club because I have have more plans for that little verse.
I'm planning on a more relaxed approach to writing this year. I will still be taking prompts, both for ThemThere Thursday and little ficlets, but I want to focus on my own ideas a little more. I want to finish Grace which is very dear to me and perhaps one of my most favourite things I've ever written, and share the as of yet unfinished Norne fic the 2022 Christmas Special inspired with you. Whatever else the new year will bring in terms of writing, I hope you will enjoy it.
Happy new year, everyone!
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it only means there is no room for you to fall [Epilogue]
A/N: This is a follow-up to it only means there is no room for you to fall, my alternate post-episode-5/episode 6 Sana/Arkady/Violet fic that I wrote uh... last September, wow. It won’t make much sense if you haven’t read that, so go read that fic first!
Those of you who follow me on AO3, or who followed the fic on AO3, will know that I already wrote and posted an epilogue to this fic about a week and a half after it was written. But I never posted it to Tumblr. I liked it, but I also wasn’t that happy with it - there was too much “plot”, and not enough of the fluff and indulgence that I’d so enjoyed when writing the first fic. And I liked how the first fic ended, so I sort of wanted that to be a stand-alone on Tumblr, until I was happier with the epilogue.
I never intended to rewrite it - I was originally planning to write a follow-up fic or two in the same ‘verse, and figured that once those were written, I would post the epilogue to Tumblr first so that it made sense. However, I lost a bit of steam with the next fic in the series, so that didn’t quite happen.
Fast-forward to now, and... well, I’m sure I don’t need to spell out why I needed a dose of fluffiness and self-indulgence in my fic-writing life. So, I decided a couple of days ago to have another go with writing this epilogue, and see if I couldn’t write a version that I was happier with. Turns out I could! Here it is :D
---
The first thing that Sana is aware of when she wakes is that she’s very, very warm.
The second is that someone is playing with her hair, carding their fingers through the strands that have escaped from the loose plait she wears it in. It feels nice. Sana closes her eyes again.
A vague memory filters through the sleepy haze in her brain. Arkady and Violet hugging her. Arkady leading her into her room, pulling her down onto her bunk, wrapping her arms around her. Violet at her back. She realises that she can hear voices talking softly.
“...might wake up and decide that she can handle it without our help.” Violet’s voice. “She is the Captain, after all.”
A snort from Arkady on her other side. “You underestimate my willingness to flat-out pin her to this bunk until she admits that she can’t handle everything by herself.”
Sana cracks one eye open. “I’d like to see you try.”
She feels Violet jump behind her, but Arkady just smirks, unrepentant. She looks slightly softer-edged in the morning (well, Sana realises that she doesn’t really know for sure that it’s morning, it’s hard to tell on the ship), her normally carefully tamed hair in unruly tangles around her face. It’s a look Sana has only rarely had the privilege of seeing.
“How did you sleep?” asks Violet, and Sana turns to smile at her.
“Like a log. I hope I didn’t snore.”
Violet laughs. “I don’t think so. I would know if you did - I’m a pretty light sleeper. It comes from being a medic,” she adds by way of explanation.
Sana is about to say something else - ask what the time is, maybe - when a key part of the previous night suddenly comes back to her: Ricky Q’s smug voice on the other end of the line. His threats against her crew, and the rendezvous on Hafizah. Sana groans as her head starts to throb slightly.
“Sana?” Violet looks worried, reaching forward to brush strands of hair gently from her face. Sana realises that Violet had been the one playing with her hair when she woke up, and she takes a moment to delight in this tiny gesture of affection from the other woman, who had always seemed quite reserved in her interactions until now. They would brush past each other, sometimes, in the narrow kitchen, and Sana was often guilty of wanting to read too much into the touch of fingers as moonshine cups were passed around, or Violet’s gentle ministrations as she checked an injury. She’d always told herself she was wishing for the impossible. She’s now starting to realise that might not have been true.
“What is it, Sana?” Arkady asks her, tense, like she’s readying herself for a fight. Sana weighs her options. She knows that telling Arkady about Ricky Q and his blackmail will only make her angry, and she doesn’t want to puncture the little cocoon of warmth and calm that they’ve created for themselves. But she also knows that putting her best friend off won’t be well-received. Arkady will probably make good on her promise to pin Sana to the bunk until she opens up about what’s going on (Sana carefully doesn’t think about all the ways that image appeals to her).
Even as she hesitates, Arkady says, “Look, you know all that touchy-feely crap you pull the moment one of us freaking blinks wrong? You know that goes both ways, right? You can’t just... It isn’t right for you to always have our backs, and not let us have yours, too.”
There’s frustration in Arkady’s voice, but there’s an underlying hurt, too, and a hesitancy. Arkady isn’t used to voicing her innermost feelings, Sana knows, and she’s always quick to retreat defensively afterwards, like she’s afraid of being mocked for it. But Sana thinks that Arkady is more afraid that Sana might not trust her with this. That she doesn’t see their friendship (more than friendship? a part of Sana’s mind wonders) as a partnership of equals. Sana lets out a soft breath, fighting down the urge to pull Arkady to her in a crushing hug, which might not be well-received.
“Before I tell you both what’s been going on,” she begins, “Kady, I need you to promise me that you won’t... fly off the handle.”
Arkady eyes her suspiciously. “That depends on what it is you’re about to tell us, because I already really don’t like the sound of this.”
Sana sighs. “Just, promise to hear me out first? I need you to do that for me.” She levels Arkady with her best Captain’s stare, a mixture of sternness and warmth. It works on the whole crew, but particularly Arkady, who will often back down only when Sana levels it at her.
Sure enough, Arkady grumbles but subsides, her cheeks going pink. “All right. Whatever it is, I’ll wait until after you’re done telling it before I blow a gasket.”
Smiling slightly, Sana looks at Violet, whose expression is intent and serious, before she begins.
“Last night, not long after I got done fixing the temperature reg, I had a call from Campbell...”
She outlines the tense exchange with Campbell, his assurances about Red Gregor, and then her accusation, the argument and Campbell’s parting words. True to her word, Arkady doesn’t interrupt, though she frowns indignantly on Sana’s behalf a couple of times. As expected, however, when Sana gets to the second caller and reveals his identity, she explodes.
“What?! What do you mean, Ricky Q? How did that rat bastard even get your number?”
Sana gives her an amused look, but it’s tired. “I told you you’d be angry.”
“Did he hack us? No, he can’t have done,” Arkady says. “Goddamn it, I should have known he’d crawl back up out of the gutter somewhere-”
“Arkady,” Violet says quietly but firmly. She reaches across Sana and takes Arkady’s hand. “Remember what you promised. Let Sana tell it.”
Sana bites back a smile as Arkady goes pink, looking down at their entwined hands as if she can’t quite parse what she’s seeing. “I- fine, whatever,” Arkady stutters.
Violet looks serenely back at Sana. “Carry on, Captain.”
Sana presses her lips together with amusement, and files away the way that Violet says ‘Captain’ to turn over in her brain later, because right now she can’t give it the attention it deserves.
“He talked to the Fowleys, that’s how,” Sana says in reply to Arkady’s question. Arkady’s expression darkens, and darkens further as Sana recaps the conversation and Ricky’s threats.
“That bastard,” she hisses, and this time neither Sana nor Violet stops her.
Violet looks upset. “He said that someone on this ship has been informing to a middleman... but we haven’t had contact with anyone...”
“He’s lying,” Arkady says instantly. “He’s making it up to bait you. Sana, you can’t meet him, you don’t know what he’s gonna do.”
“He knew about Violet,” Sana points out, her voice quiet. “He knew things he never could have found out unless he had some kind of… source. I don’t know what it is,” she goes on, before Arkady can say anything else. “And I don’t believe it’s any of you. But I have to know how he got the intel.”
There’s silence for a few moments as they all contemplate the situation. Sana hates that they’re in this bind, that they have to bow to the whims of someone like Ricky Q because they can’t risk the alternative. And she resents the loss of what could have been a quiet, peaceful morning with her two favourite people if not for this whole mess. (Oh, who is she kidding - the Rumor has never even met “quiet” and “peaceful”).
“I don’t think you should go in without backup,” Violet says quietly. Sana looks at her in surprise, and Arkady does a double-take.
“Hey, that's my line!” she exclaims, mock indignant, but she’s looking at Violet with warm admiration. A tingling sensation spreads through Sana’s gut, and she takes a moment to appreciate the way these shared looks between Violet and Arkady no longer make her feel a stab of jealousy and loneliness; instead, she feels overwhelming affection for both of them.
Still, she shakes her head. “I said I would meet Ricky alone, and I will. I can handle him.”
“Yeah, but you don’t have to,” Arkady points out, practically vibrating with frustration. “You can’t seriously believe he’s going to play fair with his one. You don’t know what shit he’s planning to pull. He could be waiting at the rendezvous with an army of IGR agents!”
Sana shakes her head again. “No. However much of a scumbag Ricky Q might be, he has more to fear from the IGR than we do. He won’t have tipped them off. Listen,” she goes on quickly, “I’m going into this to get information out of Ricky, so I need him to have his guard down. He won’t, if you’re there. And no offence, but I don’t think you could restrain yourself from stabbing him in the gut if you saw him again.”
Arkady shrugs. “Not really sure I see the downside there.” Violet gives a little snort of amusement. Sana smirks slightly, but then becomes serious again.
“I know you’re worried,” Sana says gently. “But I’m still the Captain, and if Ricky is making threats against all of you, I can’t let that lie. It’s my job to make sure you’re all safe. And to make life a living, breathing hell for whoever dares to cross us.”
Arkady smirks and stretches languidly. “I love it when you talk scary,” she jokes, though there’s a spark of heat in her eyes that makes Sana think she’s not entirely joking.
Sana smiles and reaches for Arkady’s hand, lying on the bunk next to her, and twines their fingers together. She does the same with Violet’s hand on her other side. For all that the situation with Ricky Q is a mess, and it could go sideways on them in the worst way possible, she feels calmer than she has done in a while. And her headache has miraculously faded.
“So...” she says. “Is this the part where we talk about... this?”
She feels Arkady go tense, as she’s prone to doing whenever feelings enter the conversation, but to her credit, she doesn’t pull away. Violet is nodding.
“I think... maybe we should? Arkady and I... well, we kind of talked about how we wanted to uh...” Violet blushes bright pink, but forges on, “take care of you, because you always do it for us, and both of us... care a lot about you, and we wanted to show it. That’s why we came to your room, last night. Well, this morning, I guess. I’m not even sure what time it is.”
“I was wondering that, too,” Sana admits. “And speaking of which, I haven’t even thanked you both for-”
Arkady groans and buries her face in the bunk’s one pillow, which she has somehow managed to steal. “Oh my god, can we please skip the speech? You really don’t need to thank us for that. At all.”
Sana knows from years of experience that Arkady’s protesting is her way of saying ‘you’re welcome’, so she isn’t affronted. She shoves Arkady lightly on the shoulder. “It wasn’t going to be a speech. I just wanted to say thank you. That’s all.”
Arkady makes an inarticulate noise of disbelief, and Violet grins.
“And, so that we’re all on the same page about this...” Sana begins, feeling like the ball is in her court now. She’s suddenly unaccountably nervous. They spent the night in the same bed, and Violet has just said that she and Arkady “care a lot” about Sana and wanted to show it, which is pretty hard to misinterpret. But Sana also hasn’t felt about anyone the way she feels about Arkady and Violet. And living as they do in such close quarters, she can’t afford to get this wrong.
“Sana?” Arkady prompts her, and the note of nervousness in her voice is enough to spur Sana on.
“I care a lot about both of you too, and have done for some time,” she says, feeling her face warm with a blush. “As more than just friends,” she adds, to be absolutely clear. “I don’t really know how… dating… will work on the ship, especially not with everything else that’s happening right now - but if you’re willing to give it a try, then so am I.”
Violet nods vigorously. “Yes. I would really like that,” she says, with a heart-melting soft smile. “And, well, Brian and Krejjh seem to manage somehow, so we can probably make it work, too.”
She says it with a grin in her voice, and Sana knows she’s saying it at least partly for the inevitable reaction it will provoke from Arkady when she emphatically declares that their relationship is in no way going to be like Jeeter and Krejjh. There’s a pause as both she and Violet wait for that reaction, but weirdly, it doesn’t come. Sana looks round at Arkady, who is red-faced and fidgeting with the pillow cover.
“So, uh, Krejjh might... know about the three of us already. At least, they know that I have feelings for both of you.”
“Really? How?” Sana asks, and from the surprise on Violet’s face, she can tell this is news to her, too.
“They sorta... gave me a pep talk. Last night. Just before I ran into you in the kitchen,” Arkady adds to Violet.
Violet’s eyes widen. “I wondered what that announcement over the comms was about.”
Sana senses she might have missed quite a bit while she was dealing with the double crisis of Campbell and Ricky Q. She makes a mental note to ask for the full story later. “So, let me get this straight,” she says slowly, because she is absolutely not passing up the opportunity to rib Arkady about this. A lot.
“You took romantic advice from Krejjh? The same Krejjh who kept inviting us to dinner with Brian when he was trying to ask them out? That Krejjh?”
“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” Arkady shoots back, still red in the face. “Anyway, it wasn’t really advice, it was more like... encouragement. They suggested that you guys might be open to the possibility of a relationship involving... all three of us. And something about Dwarnian relationship norms. Apparently polyamorous relationships are pretty normal for them.”
“Huh,” says Violet, contemplatively. “So I guess it’s Krejjh we should be thanking, then.”
Sana smirks at Arkady. “You realise that Krejjh is going to be insufferable about this as soon as they realise we’re together.”
Arkady groans again and faceplants back into the pillow. “Don’t remind me.”
(Sure enough, when the three of them enter the kitchen in search of breakfast - well, lunch technically - about half an hour later, Krejjh’s squeal nearly ruptures their eardrums. “Crewman Jeeter, come look! They’re holding hands!”
“We can hear you,” Arkady complains, half-heartedly.)
#TSCOSI#The Strange Case of Starship iris#fic#ficlet#Sana/Arkady/Violet#Sana Tripathi#Arkady Patel#Violet Liu#it only means there is no room for you to fall#I'm much happier with this version of the epilogue#though I liked some little moments in the previous version like the greenhouse conversation between Sana and Arkady#I had intended to save the fluff and relationship conversation for the follow-up(s)#but I much prefer doing it this way around#obviously Violet still needs to be put in the picture about who Ricky Q is#but she's gleaned that he's not a great guy#if I get inspired to write another ficlet in this verse it will be an alternate Episode 7 with kisses! and cuteness#Tripateliu#new ship name unlocked!#thank you ghostsquidandspacebees :D
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1 + jim/oluwande for the ficlet starter lines thing :0?
Oh hell yeah!! This got a little bit long, but it's still within a thousand words, so I guess that counts as a ficlet??
This takes place in an unidentified modern au - it's low-key inspired by @dragonmuse 's birthday party for Jim in Hungry Like A Wolf , because the idea of Jim not having a birthday party since they were a kid until Oluwande throws them one is just so fucking good. (Also everyone should go read their Leda House and the Kraken 'verse it's absolutely stunning)
Thanks again Dwarnian!! This was v fun to write.
#1 - "You know that's not what I meant."
“You know that’s not what I meant!” Jim hissed. “Would you stop? We’re not doing this!”
Oluwande grinned back at them, like he hadn’t just dropped that he was going to throw them a fucking birthday party when they were in the middle of the goddamn grocery store, of all places. At least he’d dragged them here when it was deserted.
“Oh? Then what did you mean?” He kept tossing half-price bags of chips into the shopping cart he was pushing. “Because I could’ve sworn you said, and I quote, ‘Yes, I’d definitely like the biggest birthday bash ever, please Oluwande’.”
“I was being sarcastic!”
Jim grabbed a bag of chips and tried to put it back on the shelf, only for Oluwande to tsk and shove two more in the cart. They fought the urge to bare their teeth at him or to grab the knife hidden under their coat, the one that definitely wasn't legal to carry in this state. Not that they really wanted to threaten Oluwande out of throwing them a birthday party. But the urge was still there, and they still ignored it, which was what counted. Right?
“I don’t even like birthday parties!” they said, waving their hands in the air. “They’re stupid!”
“You liked the one you planned for me just fine. Don’t think I didn’t see the list on your phone of all the ways you want to throw me an even better party next year.”
“That’s – that’s different!” They tried to bat his hands away from a case of pop. “Maltida sea Olu, would you stop? You are not allowed to throw me some big stupid fucking birthday party -”
Oluwande grabbed a different case of pop and tossed it in the cart, then kept walking. “It won’t be stupid at all –“
“It will be – fuck, can you just” – Jim grabbed the front end of the shopping cart and planted themself in front of it, throwing their weight against it until Oluwande stopped – “stop for one damn second –"
Something in the look on their face must have given him pause, because suddenly the air of humour faded, his face shifting into something serious.
“Okay,” he said, leaning his elbows on the handle of the cart. “I’m stopping.” His voice went soft. “Mate, are you really upset about this?”
They chewed on their lip.
“Because if you really don’t want a party, we won’t have one,” he continued, nothing but sincerity in his voice. “I just… thought it might be nice. Since you said you haven’t had a proper birthday party in like - a really long time.”
“Not since I was a kid,” Jim muttered. They looked down at their hands, white knuckled on the metal edge of the cart. “I’m not – I’m not a birthday person. I don’t need a party just because I made it through another fucking year.”
“I know you don’t need a party. But it’s okay if you want one.” They wrinkled their nose at him, but Oluwande just smiled. “And it’s not just to celebrate still being alive. I mean yeah, that’s good, but it’s to celebrate you, y’know?”
Jim groaned. “Dios, that sounds terrible.”
Oluwande laughed. “Yeah, well, some of us love you. Like, a lot of us love you, actually. And we’d like to get the chance to show you every once in a while.”
Fuck. When he put it that way, it felt like…
It felt like having a family again. And they knew he was theirs, the only family they had. But maybe the rest of their friends could be, too.
“You still don’t have to,” he said, voice going soft again. “Or we can just do something small instead of a party with everyone. You and me, or just a couple people. It’s totally up to you. I won’t be upset either way.”
Jim ducked their head, staring once more at their hands, then at the contents of the cart. It still felt like too much. Too much attention, too much effort for them.
… but they couldn’t deny that they kind of wanted it, too.
“… you really want to throw me a party?”
Oluwande smiled, eyes crinkling at the edges. “Yeah, mate. I really do.”
Jim sighed. They let go of the cart and stepped around to where Oluwande stood at the back, then slipped their hand into his.
“… fine. We can do a big party.”
The smile on Oluwande’s face shifted into the biggest grin. “Hell yeah we can!”
Jim held up their finger. “On one condition.”
“Name it.”
“Lucius isn’t allowed to choose the music. If I have to listen to one of his stupid fucking Brittney Spears playlists at my own fucking birthday party, we’re gonna have a problem.”
Oluwande laughed and squeezed their hand. “It’s a deal.” When he started forward, tugging them along, they followed. “You can make your own playlist for the party, how’s that?”
Jim pursed their lips. “… make one for me? You know more music than I do.”
They didn’t say that he knew all their favourites. They didn’t need to.
The look Oluwande gave them was unbearably soft, making all their insides flip. “Of course, mate. Anything for you.”
#jim jimenez#oluwande boodhari#our flag means death#ofmd#jim x oluwande#teal oranges#tragicallynerdy writes#ficlet starter lines#ask#dwarnian
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I love reading what you write! It's always such good, easy writing no matter what it's about! Do you have any Russingon fic recs? I'm new to Ao3 and still figuring it all out.
Aww thank you so much <3 <3 that means a lot! and YES I have lots of Russingon fic recs! These are all taken from my bookmarks and I know there are other great fics out there, but these are ones that I have saved and come back to frequently!
(I’m also going to plug my Russingon fics bc I write them a lot and I’m pretty proud of some of those works!)
Blessed Hands Will Break Me by @absynthe--minded - WIP currently at 139k, lots of worldbuilding, from Fingon’s discovery of Maedhros’ capture to the Mereth Aderthad - Absynthe is an amazing Russingon writer, absolutely check her stuff out!
“whoso list to hunt” by vauquelin (elftrash) - 3k oneshot, post-Angband, 1st person Fingon POV - another incredible writer
“Old Pains” by @zealouswerewolfcollector - ficlet, post-reembodiment, Maedhros is unsure of reality
Did My Heart Love Till Now? by @absynthe--minded (with art by @felixwhetsel !) - 5k, Years of the Trees, masquerade shenanigans <3
“stay thy mind, and all the rest” by @mc-dude - 25k oneshot, get together, Fingon visits Maedhros in Himring, the ANGST and LONGING gahhhh !!!
“commit (to the bit)” by vauquelin (elftrash) - 4k oneshot, Years of the Trees, FAKE DATING FOR WORLD PEACE, this author has a GIFT for prose and the subtlety of interpersonal interaction
“cliffs of fall” by @arrivisting - 3k oneshot, nonlinear narrative but generally focused on post-reembodiment reunion with Complicated Feelings - another author with a truly inspiring talent for prose, I reread the wedding scene in this fic at least once a week and it never fails to make me emo
In Equal Measure by @siphilemon - WIP currently at 108k, time-travel fix-it, bullet point fic, not just Russingon but they’re the ones who time traveled and anyway their parts make me go insane
Your colors by @elesianne - 2 chapters, 3k total, Years of the Trees and then Beleriand, gift-giving and anniversaries and dirty talk, so tender and loving, Elle’s Russingon always hits me right in the heart <3
“Like the old season” by Tyelperintal - 1.8k oneshot, post-Angband, Maedhros and Fingon take a walk in the woods, super sweet
“Gifts of the Heart” by @wren-of-the-woods - 10k oneshot, Years of the Trees, really lovely get-together fic, gift-giving, just super sweet and fun
Our Houses Bound Together by @senalishia and @z-h-i-e - 5 chapters, 17.2k total, arranged marriage AU!!, mutual pining, lots of drama, very fun
“just one safe place” by sunflower_diode - 2.1k oneshot, post-Angband, homoerotic haircutting
“All About Your Heart” and its sequel “At Last Broke Silence, And The Ice” by @admirablemonster - first fic is 2k, second is 8k, modern AU ft. aspec Fingon and genderfluid Maedhros!!!, get together, family drama, ice angst <3
Life after Death by Sylanna - WIP currently at 69k, Fingon-centric post-reembodiment fic, slow moving and contemplative, the author is truly the sweetest person ever
What Is Wrought Between Us by @nikosheba - 90k series (with plenty of smut too), complete, canon compliant, ranges from the Years of the Trees all the way to after the Dagor Dagorath, a truly incredible work
“Kindness” by justonelastdance - 1.6k oneshot, Maedhros in a fucked up mental state post-Angband, hurt/comfort - this author writes a lot of Maedhros whump so if you like this check out their other stuff too (this one is just my favorite)
and under the cut, some smut recs....
smut recs
In a Jeweled Crown by @absynthe--minded - 3 chapters, 12k, complete, Fingon’s coronation and the aftermath - this one still makes me go nuts every time I read it
Reconnecting by nyromes - a series with 2 parts, 9k total, first time post-Angband + first time Maedhros bottoms post-Angband
“Bright Defiance” (1.7k) and its companion fic “Very Good” (800 word ficlet) by @edgeoflight - two oneshots, Fingon coaxes Maedhros’ story out of him post-Angband + some PWP - these are some of my favorites, I come back to them frequently
“all your perfect imperfections” by @stormxpadme - 1.8k oneshot, stumpfucking, I’m biased bc this was written for me but I do love it very much, Himring era
“These Games We Play” by @edgeoflight - 1.7k oneshot, the original stumpfucking fic, Himring era
A Surprise At Home by Findecutie and MayGlenn - 25k of pwp, Years of the Trees, newlyweds, crossdressing - part of the much longer Russ and Finno Verse but this was my intro to that verse and it’s good on its own!
“Fuath” by yeaka - 3k oneshot, first time, some truly disturbing manipulation by Melkor but the Russingon here fucking destroys me ;-;
“Rozanne” by yeaka - 2.8k oneshot, Maedhros recovering from Angband, I once saw someone use the phrase “lovingly described blowjobs” and that’s basically this fic
“Sleeve” by yeaka - 2.4k oneshot, trans!Maedhros, Years of the Trees, Fëanor invents the condom for Maedhros and Russingon are incredibly eager to try it out, they’re SO IN LOVE here it gets me every time
Passion and Anxious Care by LiveOakWithMoss - 12.5k total, 2 fic series, modern AU, oh my god they were roommates, get together and then first time, this is another one I return to frequently - this author is/was a BNF a few years ago but hasn’t been active recently
“For nimble thought can jump both sea and land” by TheLionInMyBed - 2.2k oneshot, palantiri foolishness that leads to video sex basically, Beleriand era - another BNF who is/was buds with LiveOakWithMoss
Treat me soft but touch me cool by LiveOakWithMoss and TheLionInMyBed - 4 chapters, 18k total, swoon kink/medical kink, relationship difficulties that are resolved, Beleriand era with a final chapter post-reembodiment, love this one
“Enthroned” by @ultraviolet-eucatastrophe - 4.5k oneshot, throne sex, fealty kink, King Fingon era
“A Disgrace to the House of Finwë” by @edgeoflight - 2.3k oneshot, get together/first time, Years of the Trees, they’re just super sweet together <3
“What Happens in Himring” by teasoni - 3.4k oneshot, reunion sex, Himring era, fealty kink, this fic is tagged “finally some dicks get sucked!!!!!!” and I think about that tag every time I write a Russingon blowjob jdkfhdkj
“a light in darkness, hope in woe” by @admirablemonster - 4k oneshot, trans!Maedhros, surprise baby Gil-galad in the middle of the Bragollach
“A lord and his prince” by @ultraviolet-eucatastrophe - 3.1k oneshot, early Beleriand era, reunion sex, super sweet and fluffy
“Made of Lava” by @edgeoflight - 2.1k oneshot, Years of the Trees, tender get-together fic with a kind of silly premise
Bend, bruise, beg by LiveOakWithMoss - 5 chapters, 13k total, part of a larger modern AU but tbh I haven’t read the main fic in that verse and this absolutely stands on its own, Maedhros discovering his kinks, chapters 2 (first time) and 4 (butt plug shenanigans) are my favorites
“in a field of stars” by Nacht - 3.4k oneshot, Years of the Trees, first time/get together, the writing style here is really unique and sticks with me
“a sword once sheathed” by @mc-dude - 3.5k oneshot, Beleriand era, reunion sex, the amount of horny longing is truly astonishing
Of Flight and Freedom by @admirablemonster - 2 chapters, 6.6k total, wingfic/wing kink, first time/get together, the Rescue and its aftermath
“Thorns” by yeaka - 2k oneshot, post-Angband, Maedhros with lousy self-worth, Fingon who punishes him with love, bondage
The Ice Between by angrymermaids (who has a tumblr but I don’t remember the url oops) - 7 chapters, 33.5k total, Beleriand era, piecing their relationship back together / trying to get back to being intimate, focus on Fingon and his trauma from the Ice
“much too tall for a boyfriend” by @i-am-a-lonely-visitor - 4.7k oneshot, fem!Maedhros x budding-transmasc!Fingon, Years of the Trees, I think about this fic ALL THE TIME I kind of want to write a sequel to it sjfdhdkjh
“the beat of your heart as my hand touches your skin” by @admirablemonster - 5.3k oneshot, part of the Elves in Pon Farr series, Years of the Trees, heat fic/mating cycles, first time/get together, Maedhros’ first heat catches him by surprise while on a camping trip with Fingon, accidental soulbond
“Beneath the Blanketing White” by @nikosheba - 2.3k oneshot, Himring era, pwp, cameo from little Gil-galad at the end
“What I Am (When I’m With You)” by @thatfeanorian - 5k oneshot, part of a larger modern AU, married fluff, Fingon with baby Gil, ends with some lovely smut, this was written for me so AGAIN I’m biased but I do very much love this one
“open your body and soul to me” by @the-quiet-fire-of-defiance - 2.3k oneshot, Years of the Trees, trans!Maedhros, pregnancy, exhibitionism, sex toys, they’re so in love that it drives me crazy, I can’t stop thinking about this fic djfhkjd
“Like the Golden Fire in Your Eyes” by @sianascera - 3.8k oneshot, Years of the Trees, Maedhros invents nipple piercings, extremely fun <3
#anon#answers#russingon#fic recs#tefain nin#maedhros x fingon#there are truly some incredible writers in this fandom; thank you SO much for all your contributions <3#save#russingon fic recs
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100 Days of Writing
@the-wip-project ‘s 100 days of writing
Day I Lost Track Somewhere In There Part Two
Inspired by both what @tishinada been doing and her comment on my post bemoaning the fact that the recent prompts haven’t been working for me, I’m going to talk about the world building, spackling, clarifying, and Director Furying that I have done… in the process of working out my character’s backstories.
I kind of Director Furyed* a lot of what’s canon about bounty hunting in Star Wars, or at least what’s canon in SW:TOR’s version of it. (Now that I think about it, The Mandalorian presents something a bit more reasonable, and closer to how I look at it.)
In game, bounty hunters are basically assassins, which I object to on two points: one, those are completely different professions! Augh! and two, the game establishes way the hell too many ways to fake someone’s death, up to and including cloned corpses. You cannot tell me that most bounties aren’t wanted alive in a galaxy like that. The idea that most acquisitions are wanted dead, and can be killed in circumstances where there’s no proof they’re actually dead just drives me up the wall.
So, in my version of the galaxy, bounty hunting is 98% bringing people in alive and in that other 2% something went very wrong somewhere. Bounties are assumed to be wanted alive, or at least preferably alive, with only bounties that are absolutely only wanted alive, and the very few (which are actually hired assassinations) where they’re wanted dead indicated differently. Most bounty hunters are not assassins and many of the major guilds will kick out members who take wanted dead bounties. (Also members who “accidentally” kill a suspicious number of their acquisitions.) Professions have to have standards, you know. Even the amoral professions.
Going along with this change, I have bounty hunting accepted, to at least some degree, in all of the major galactic governments. The Sith Empire licenses bounty hunters (who are, by definition non-Imperial; its not a career that exists for Imperials) to operate in the Empire, as long as they abide by Imperial law regarding their behavior, and Imperials do sometimes hire bounty hunters, but the concept is still slightly distasteful to many of them. (It smells just a little of failure, somehow, hiring an outsider. Particularly to ordinary Imperials. To Sith, it’s more often just another way of taking care of something beneath their personal attention.)
The Galactic Republic also licenses bounty hunters (regardless of whether they’re Republic citizens) to operate in the Republic, as long as they abide by Republic law regarding their behavior, and Republic citizens and officials do sometimes hire bounty hunters. There’s no real standard view of bounty hunters in the Republic. Some people romanticize them, some people view them as lawless and either a necessary evil or an evil that shouldn’t be allowed, some people see them as useful, some law enforcement are happy for the assistance, others hate dealing with them, etc…
(Interestingly, the laws regarding bounty hunters are very similar in both the Empire and the Republic: abide by other laws, don’t cause a bunch of collateral damage, defer to local law enforcement, etc. In the Republic, a bounty hunter who kills someone – even their bounty – will find themselves on trial; though they might get off with a defense of self-defense. In the Empire, it would depend on who they killed and who they’d been hired by, but if they weren’t hired by a Sith or someone else with a lot of clout, and they killed someone who was an Imperial citizen, they’d be in deep, deep trouble.)
In Hutt Space, there are no regulations; anyone can pick up a blaster and call themselves a bounty hunter. There are also no protections, outside of the bounty hunter guilds. And most of the guilds do have standards for their members. That said, most of their members started out as just someone picking up a blaster and going after an open bounty. Once they had enough skill, they applied to a guild and, if accepted, got at least some protection from (other?) criminal elements and access to closed (guild-only) bounties.
Some closed bounties are guild specific – someone hired a specific guild – others are just better bounties that the guilds, who largely control the information about bounties, keep to themselves. (You could say there’s a guild of bounty hunter guilds.) They tend to be the “better” bounties – good profit to risk ratio. Open bounties tend to be small potatoes, or government bounties posted by the Empire, Republic, or any number of smaller galactic governments, which the guilds can’t really control access to information about.
While the “bounty hunter’s creed” is from the wrong era, I’ve had Savler reference it, if not by name, and in fic!verse, the bounty hunter guilds operate by something akin to it.
The Legends canon creed is: “No bounty is worth dying for. People don’t have bounties, only acquisitions have bounties. Capture by design, kill by necessity. No hunter shall slay another hunter. No hunter shall interfere with another’s hunt. In the hunt, one captures or kills, never both. No hunter shall refuse aid to another hunter.”
If I were going to list out my Old Republic version, it’d probably be something like: “No bounty is worth dying for. People don’t have bounties, only acquisitions have bounties. Capture by design, kill only by necessity. Don’t tarnish the guild’s reputation. Don’t interfere in a guildmate’s hunt. Respond to guild calls for assistance.” (Whether not tarnishing the guild’s reputation means that the last two apply to bounty hunters in general is a matter of some debate. And I fold not killing other hunters into only killing if necessary or not tarnishing the guild’s reputation, depending. Either it’s self-defense, or you’re making the guild look bad by murdering people. And making it generally about the guild helps with the fact that there’s some number of just random folks out there trying to become bounty hunters. No reason for the guild to care about them, at least not most of the time.)
Though perhaps my version of the bounty hunter’s creed should also include “Don’t take fool’s bounties.” I mentioned this in a ficlet, but there are people - cough - acquisitions who have gathered so many bounties from different crime lords that bounty hunters don’t bother going after them, unless specifically asked to. You can’t give one acquisition to two Hutts, an Exchange boss, and Black Sun, and you don’t want to have to explain yourself to the people you didn’t give them to. Bounties that look like a great payday, but there’s no good way to cash in.
What Savler didn’t mention in the ficlet is that fool’s bounties tend to eventually end up on the Great Hunt target list -- and then auctioned off in some fashion to the various people who put bounties on them. The Mandalorians who run the Great Hunt have the firepower to make that safe for all involved. (Well, except the acquisition, but one of the most important laws of bounty hunting says that’s entirely their problem.)
*Director Fury: “I recognize the council has made a decision, but given that it’s a stupid-ass decision, I have elected to ignore it.”
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Oh look, I write things. Links to AO3:
Riverdale:
Tis the Season - Riverdale Holiday Prompts (On Going)
Washing Machine Heart - Bughead. College Laundromat AU
Pink and Gray - Bughead drabbles from prompts (On going)
Lost in the Wood - Bughead Urban Fantasy inspired by the BHDC (WIP)
Asea - Bughead Pirate AU (WIP)
Short and Sweet - BHDC Challenge Collection
Cry to Me - Bughead, pre-show. When Betty’s stood up, Jughead finds a little dancing goes a long way.
Dear Diary - Jughead finds Betty’s diary and gets more than he was expecting. (Mind the tags please)
The Critic and the Chef - Bughead. Jughead’s a chef and Betty’s a critic. Things go about as well as you’d expect. (Served with a side of SweetE; WIP)
This Time Around - Bughead. Persuasion, part 1. Years after he left without a word, an engagement throws Betty and Jughead back together.
Only You - Persuasion, part 2. Wherein Betty and Jughead try to navigate friendship post Riverdale.
Palm Readings and You - Bughead body swap. (WIP)
Short and Sweet - A collection of Bughead drabbles based on Raptorlily's prompt lists.
Pearl’s and Poetry - Varchie drabbles from prompts (On going)
Centerfold - Varchie; Veronica comes across a familiar face in the most unexpected place
A Wizard’s Peril - Varchie short chapter fantasy (WIP)
Saints and Sinners - Veronica Lodge was no saint. (Self-Introspection)
Louboutins and Lace - Beronica ficlets
Yellow Isn’t Just for Friendship - Writtten for the Riverdale Pride and Joy Zine. A Beronica re imagining of the Pilot Episode
Daffodils and Hyacinths - Veronica Lodge opens up a flower shop in Riverdale, right across from Betty’s tattoo shop.
It’s My Party (I’ll Cry If I Want To) - Betty/Toni. It’s Betty’s birthday party and Archie shows up with her. (Leslie Gore series)
What’s a Girl Supposed to Do? - Veronica’s determined to find out why Betty’s been avoiding her for weeks. (Leslie Gore series)
Breakfast at Tiffany’s - Jeronica AU; They’ve got nothing in common, this isn’t a relationship, and she’s the most stable thing in his life.
Strawberry Blond - Barchie (one-sided); Their meeting didn’t go as planned. Perhaps it’s time to move on.
The Haunting of Thornhill - Horror. A week long college experiment goes horribly wrong. (WIP - Mind the tags for future chapters)
Sacrifices Have to Be Made - Horror, S2 divergence. A different take on the murders plaguing Riverdale.
Fairytales Don’t Always Have Happy Ending - Polly centric, wherein she escapes from the sisters and finds help along the way. (WIP)
Morning In America - The kids of Riverdale aren't alright. (Or a Polly centered fic on the spring semester before it all fell apart.)
Enough - Moose Introspective piece, written for Riverdale Pride & Joy Zine
Riverdale: Founding Families as Symbolic of 20th Century American (WIP nerd)
Parentdale:
Kill Your Boyfriend - Gladys&Alice friendship; Alice always did have the best ideas
New Year’s Day - Cleaning up after New Year’s was always a pain, but at least Fred had FP there to help (Fredsythe)
X-Men:
Promises and a Table for Two - Romy; When Remy proposes to Rogue, it comes with an offer she can’t refuse (WIP, new chapter hopefully this month?)
Drunk on a Plane - Romy; Two failed engagements and a trip to Key West (WIP, though IDK why since it’s mostly written...)
Dancing on my Own - Rogue never wanted this life. Movie-verse
Hurry on Home - Romy. Stuck in another banal meeting, Remy schemes on how to get out of it after Rogue starts texting him.
HP:
Libraries - Fremione; If Fred knew work study was going to be this boring, he’d have signed up for psych experiments instead (WIP)
Blind Dates and Sorbets - Fremione one-shots
Someone Like You - Fremione. Fred meets a familar Muggle in London who knows nothing of the wizarding world.
Crispers, Cats, and You - Fremione. Muggle AU (WIP)
Five Little Words - Fremione. A different take on a magic bound marriage. (WIP)
50 Sentences - Fremione. Writing exercise
One More Song - Fremione. A one-night stand and a single Weasley. What else could a girl ask for?
Can’t Get You Off My Mind - Fremione. When Hermione can’t get him out of her head, it’s obvious a potion is the reason.
Morning Angel - George/Luna, postwar.
So Much Better - Ron/Pansy, post war.
Other:
Sympathy for the Devil - Good Omens; Aziraphale’s dalliances with the arts concoct a devilish song
Fade (Into You) - Ada/Leon; Ada needs a safe space for a night
#in case you need a distraction#fanfic list#riverdale fanfiction#fremione fanfiction#that i might get back to one day if jkr will stop being awful#wow i can't finish anything huh?#also i've written a lot more this year than i realized#yay?
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Tagged by @morallygreywaren: “ Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors! “
Doing stories posted to AO3 only (I’m behind on transferring ficlets) in reverse chronological order. I think most people I would remember to tag have been tagged, so as is often the case, have you read this and thought “I wish someone would tag me”? You’re it!
(Also I discovered an exciting new hellsite failure mode: I resized the window I was working in and Tumblr wiped my draft post I was half-way through typing, even though I didn’t refresh the page. AMAZING. so functional much website very wow.)
Clusivity (Joe/Nicky, TOG): “Joe liked to think of himself as someone who kept an open mind about people.”
portrayal (Joe/Nicky, TOG): “The first thing Nicolò thought about Yusuf al-Kaysani, when they shook hands in front of three cameras, eight crew, and two members of his father’s PR team, was that he had an impressive amount of self-control.”
makes me want you more (Joe/Nicky, TOG): ““Are you done yet?” Joe asked Nile, after a full minute had passed and she showed no signs of overcoming her laughter.”
Acts of Kindness (Joe/Nicky, TOG): ““Come here,” Nicolò said, tugging at Yusuf’s arm, and Yusuf, of course, came at once.”
men of their word (Joe/Nicky, TOG): ““You’re all here today,” says Andromache, the Prince of the city, “because I’ve had enough.””
the map is not the territory (Joe/Nicky, TOG): “Yusuf was frowning at the big map on the windowless wall of the council room, mentally overlaying trade routes onto it, when he heard footsteps in the corridor.”
love at first sight (every single time) (Joe/Nicky, TOG): “When Nicky went to the bar to get another drink, the woman in the next booth bent around to whisper urgently to Joe.”
Apex Predators In Island Ecosystems (Freeman et al., in press) (Nile-centric gen, TOG): “Nile didn’t really start to believe there was anything to this whole dinosaur park thing until they were in Costa Rica, getting into the helicopter that was going to take them to the island.”
Known By Touch (Joe/Nicky, TOG): “Yusuf came back to the land of the living as a crow settled on his face.”
marriage of (in)convenience (Joe/Nicky, TOG): “Booker liked to remind Joe, for years afterward, that he probably should have thought harder about why Nicky had proposed to him so quickly.”
make your own fun (Joe/Nicky, TOG): “Joe was sitting at his desk with a work project open, sketching idly in his notebook, when he heard someone else come into the office, accompanied by the sound of music from the party further along this floor.”
In Good Time (Ali & Muntadhir, The Daevabad Trilogy): ““I need your help,” Ali said to Nahri.”
all winners here (Joe/Nicky, TOG): ““You guys have never heard of gay chicken?” Nile said, that fateful evening.”
A Taste Of Home (Nile-centric teamfic, TOG): “Nile crossed the Canadian-US border into the country of her birth for the first time in six years, late one November – not nearly as cold as it should have been in New England this time of year, thanks, climate change – and realised that two days from now was going to be Thanksgiving.”
Good Enough To Be True (Joe/Nicky, TOG): ““You know what I need?” Joe says to Andy, one afternoon. “I need an arranged marriage.””
Husbandry (TOG/Heyer-verse fusion): ““Frederica!” Charis exclaimed, having barely taken her gloves off. “Frederica, I have heard the most astonishing news.””
prior probabilities (Joe/Nicky, TOG): ““We are very pleased to receive you,” the queen of Tunis tells Nicolò, “but I am afraid I have poor tidings as return for your journey: my son is not here.””
A State of Mutual Ignorance (Joe/Nicky, TOG): “For more than a month after he first kissed Nicolò, Yusuf sailed through the world in a soft, shiny haze of joy.”
home is how you make it (Joe/Nicky, TOG): “Over the last seven years or so, Nicolò had developed a set of rules to determine what he was facing when he returned to Genoa from Malta.”
The Same River Twice (Joe/Nicky, TOG): “Nicolò spends the night before they are due to arrive in the port of Genoa talking to himself in Ligurian.”
Thoughts inspired by this exercise: I never med a res I did not want to be in medias of, and I like dialogue. Oh, boy, do I like writing dialogue.
Of these, I think my favourite is the opening line for men of their word, because it invites so many questions right away. The second is home is how you make it, because it’s the opener to a - in my opinion - rather deft layout of the story’s setting.
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I don't normally do the writing myself, but this fandom is so quiet and lacks content, so I'm forced to write awful terrible ficlets to contribute.
General rating, Five & Diego, Elliot POV, Lila cameo. Happens after Diego is stabbed S2 EP2 and while he's recovering under Lila and Five's care S2 EP3. No more than 1600 words ish.
Inspired by this post:
-----------------
The pain is immediate, the cramps are in possibly every muscle Elliott has. When consciousness hits him like a thunderbolt, it drops him into the middle of a tension-laced back and forth between... didn't they mention names? The aliens - er, his uninvited guests are muttering lowly not far away. The tightly wrapped gag has chafed both corners of his mouth and he can't seem to focus.
'You didn't untie him?'
A kid? Oh! The Kid. Elliott opens his eyes with a start and spots through bleary vision the (alien?) boy just a few feet away, looking unnervingly human and pawing at something on his neck. He looks unimpressed at the response he gets.
'Was I supposed to?'
There's a deep, exhausted sigh and before he can grab his bearings again, Elliott feels loosening pressure behind him. Two, Three, Four... Five! That's it! Shit - had he really stared them down the barrel of his shotgun? He should be dead it registers, but the thought is fleeting and broken by Five's weary voice; there's small, barely audible cracks in every few syllables when he says,
'The assumption here is that you will behave.’ Elliott snaps his head obediently just before the gag is loosened and the relief floods over the aches in all his nooks and corners. 'Put on some coffee: I need to think.' He can't see Five behind his chair just then, but his words sound far away, clipped short by a quick flash and the falling of dead air to replace him.
Elliott can hear the English woman fussing in the next room, and a quiet snoring from a third party, and he licks at the dried blood crusted in the right corner of his mouth. However his limbs protest, he gets up carefully anyway.
He doesn't know when Five plans on returning, but Elliott doesn't want to find out what happens if the coffee isn't finished when he does.
---
Elliott doesn't sleep that night. He isn't the only one.
It's well into the earliest morning hours when the third pot of coffee finishes brewing, and only just, before Five blinks into the kitchen to pour yet another cup. Elliott peers at him from his desk in the adjacent room, where Five has been keeping him busy monitoring his collection of radar equipment. Elliott hasn't the faintest what half these devices do, but the boy seems incredibly invested, and every little blip on his screens is scrutinised by Five immediately.
Elliott quietly takes a bite of cereal he's only half-interested in eating, and ever so carefully watches the boy in the kitchen over a few spoonfuls of tasteless granola.
Five looks eerily pensive. He's staring into the blackness of the coffee pot on the counter, and Elliott can barely see his unmoving figure, licked over occasionally by yellow light flowing in from where his wounded brother lay resting in the common room. In the quietude he can hear a pair of soft, twin snores float through the flat.
He has so many questions. They're bubbling up behind his lips but he is careful to say nothing until Five breaks his moody silence. Elliott doesn't think much of himself, but there are bits and pieces he'd rather maintain un-melted by an unpredictable alien teenager.
--
When Five does finally move, Elliott had long given up studying his motionless shape and was arms deep in rolls of labelled film canisters scattered about him. He nearly screamed when a deeply troubled sigh dropped in behind his ear and brought him to attention- he swallowed it quickly.
'You're out of gauze.'
He nods shortly in acknowledgement, his eyes following as Five leans his lower back into Elliott's desk and weaves his arms over one another tightly. The expression on the boy's face even in the dim lamp light from the next room looks stormy and blackened; his eyebrows are knitted deeply and however impossible it might seem his folded mouth looks like it belongs to a man four times his age. Elliott finds it moderately disturbing. It's another long few minutes before Five mumbles, barely audible into the dead air,
'Was he breathing? You know, when they got here,' and he's not looking at Elliott but even a hermit like he was versed enough in social interactions to pick up on the subtleties in Five's voice. The question was so steady and so calm, too calm, the kid's eyes too stony - his posture too impassive. Elliott's eyes flickered over to the opening of the atrium across the way.
'I didn't see much - I was um, you had me, you know,' he vaguely gestures to being strapped to one of the dentist chairs nearby. Five doesn't say anything, so he keeps going and drops his spoon into the bowl in front of him. 'But-but uh, the girl took care of it,' he says uselessly. 'The other one-'
'Diego.'
'-right, D-Diego, he didn't make much noise at first. I couldn't see what she was doing but she sounded... upset. Then the guy started screaming for bit before quieting down, I guess, until you showed up.'
Five's expression remains poker-still. Elliott swallows audibly. 'Mostly the guy--Diego--' he is quick to correct himself as Five's eyes slide icily in his direction, 'wasn't saying much, sort of gasping I guess, he sounded really hurt. Sort of just saying one thing really,' Elliott sits back in his chair, holding one hand with the other in hopes he isn't visibly quivering. He's fascinated by these newcomers, especially this one, but part of him can't shuck the thick layer of nerves that buzzes over his skin in Five's presence. It's almost like his body is scared of something his eyes aren't registering beyond the schoolboy shorts and preppy, embroidered blazer.
He can see the thin black line of Five's mouth part, so the rest rapidly tumbles from Elliott's lips: 'Kept saying, uh “Dad", a lot, or-or… something.'
WHAP.
He launches out of his chair at the sharp smack of a fist on the brittle wood of his desk. It shakes and Elliott shakes too, but in a rapid blink Five is gone from the room. What just happened?
He catches a shadow in the corner of his eye and moves to follow it out into the large atrium once more. The whole room is dark and yellowed by the single lamp on the corner table, and its casting bewitching phantoms on his dingy walls. Diego is laid there on his sofa, quiet in sleep save for a few stuttering wheezes that sound quite painful to Elliott.
'He's really stupid.'
Elliot exclaims under his breath and snaps his head toward Five. The boy is nestled in the darkest corner on this level, pressed up against the barrier across the way. He can't see his face, but can tell he's crumpled up into himself just as he was at Elliott's desk a moment before.
'I don't know how he made it to adulthood, quite honestly,' and Five says this gravely; he is quite serious. 'I can't believe how stupid he is, even now.'
Elliott doesn't know what to say. He says nothing.
Diego fusses in his sleep a moment before his breathing settles, encumbered but steady.
'He knows. He's voluntarily-purposely stupid because he knows.' Five sounds strained. His breath is loud enough to hear from several feet across the room; Elliott doesn't know if it's because the room is quiet or Five is loud. 'He must know on some level that I'm always going to come back to break his fall. Maybe they all do.'
For an extended moment, nothing followed Five's muted words. Elliott feels like a haunting in the doorway. He shuffles uncomfortably from foot to foot. He doesn't know if Five is talking to him or at him, or perhaps neither, maybe he's already forgotten his harmless new acquaintance was still in the room completely.
Elliott is overwhelmed with unbelievable curiosity and debilitating ignorance; he doesn't know the first thing about any of these people, or their closely guarded secrets. He's not sure he even experiences the same reality as them, so he is not sure he understands Five's hum of suppressed anger - if it is in fact anger at all.
Suddenly, he wants to leave. The room feels smaller, more intimate and it's like he doesn't belong in his own living room. He doesn't know if he was meant to ask, but he does.
'So then... why?'
It's all he gets out, not a entire thought but at the same time a fittingly complete question. Why?
Be that as it may, he doesn't expect Five to answer. Elliott isn't sure exactly what he is to this kid--alien--person, or what purpose he is meant to serve here, but he is almost certainly sure it is not Trusted Confidant. He may very well be superfluous furniture to any of them, even in his own house.
It's an eternity before Elliott decides to pull himself away, escape whatever surreal little bubble is suffocating him in this doorway. The unadulterated exhaustion in his sore joints and bones is slithering up the back of his neck all at once.
He's suddenly startled by a hand reaching out from the darkness beyond the door. He's pulled an arms length toward what turns out to be the dark figure of The Girl, who raises a finger to her own lips. She doesn't speak and doesn't move, and Elliott stares into what features of her face he can make out in the poor lighting, but she's clearly already focused beyond him. Her expression is absolutely opaque as she looks toward the weak light spilling out of the main room doorway.
It's futile now, he thinks. He is certain they are completely out of earshot when he hears it - or maybe he doesn't, the voice is so incredibly fragile and quiet and young that Elliott is sure it belongs to no one in this house that he knows of.
Perhaps it was a pining spirit passing in the night, the sound of it’s longing confession diffusing instantly in the air as if never spoken at all.
'... It's because I love them.'
#tua#the umbrella academy#umbrella academy#five hargreeves#number five#tua five#diego hargreeves#tua diego#ficlet#myworks#mywriting#my nonsense#myficlets
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Day 4: Musical
A/N: This is, unusually, a Natori & Cat King ficlet, exploring the chaos of double retirement, inspired (and referencing) the song: “If I Were A Jolly Blacksmith” from the musical TV show: Galavant. (Hence posting it on Musical day) I’ve really enjoyed this, so maybe I’ll write more on the retired concept. Who knows?
Also, a big shout out to @linchxpin for very kindly allowing me to play with their headcanons for Natori’s past!
x
Natori took to retirement like a landlocked duck took to the sea. That is to say, once he figured he wasn’t in any major danger of drowning, he wondered why he hadn’t retired years ago.
Of course, the core reason was the cat who had retired alongside him.
Regardless, the switch from working cat to retiree was aided by two factors. The first was simply that he was tired. If the Cat Kingdom had possessed a functioning economy, the thought: “I don’t get paid enough for this” would have passed through his head multiple times a day. Since it hadn’t, his brain had substituted the thought for a swan-like state - graceful and smooth on the surface, and incoherent confused babbling beneath.
And the second reason was that not much had fundamentally changed. He still had an irresponsible, power-crazed old cat to kittensit, only now when the irresponsible, power-crazed old cat decreed that Tuesdays would now be known as Second Mondays, Natori could pat the ex-king’s paw and go, “Maybe not, Sire,” instead of having to change all the palace calendars and politely ask the servants to play along for the next month.
(Early into his tenure as a royal advisor, he had taken to bribing the servants into backing up the ruse. Later in his career, he had realised that the King’s attention span didn’t stretch far enough for him to realise that Tuesdays still existed outside the palace.)
But while Natori was like a duck in the ocean of retirement, the ex-king was more akin to a stone.
Natori wasn’t sure what had possessed him to agree to the ex-king crashing in on his retirement plans, except that old habits die hard and he had felt that Lune would benefit from his father being out of meddling range, but agree he had.
Anyway, Natori had managed for... too many years to count. He could manage a little longer. At least until the ex-king found some direction.
And so the two palace cats had found themselves in Natori’s kittenhood home, out in the edges of the Cat Kingdom and squarely in the mouse belt. (That stretch of scrub land dominated by villages which had risen out of mouse husbandry, and whose yearly highlight was the annual scarecrow contest.)
In such a village, there wasn’t much use for an ex-king, not unless he could harvest catnip, or sheer a rabbit, or wrangle a mouse, and the ex-king definitely wasn’t one of such persuasion.
(He had watched, with some horrified fascination, as a butcher skinned one such mouse in the shop window, and had briefly sworn himself to vegetarianism until Natori had politely reminded him that cats were obligate carnivores, and then repeated the explanation with smaller words.)
As such, lately the ex-king had turned to contemplation - a markedly foreign concept to the cat for whom “reconsideration” was a survey of side courses. Natori had even found him once in the library. A scary enough situation even before one considered that the ex-king hadn’t known where the palace library was located in all his years living there.
He had asked Natori’s advice on words such as “self actualisation” and “inner peace,” at which point Natori had confiscated the book and distracted him with the golf club their neighbour had made for him.
It wasn’t that Natori was against cats reaching self actualisation or inner peace. In theory, it sounded all very nice and relaxing. But after a lifetime trying to gently steer his monarch away from stupid ideas and sometimes even succeeding, Natori had learnt to trust his gut. And he knew that the ex-king would take such ideas and run completely in the wrong direction with them and probably start a few fires in the process - not all figurative ones, either.
And the point of all this was that when “Young Gizmo Junior” came running over bellowing “Mr Natori! Mr Natori!” Natori knew exactly who was at the centre of whatever chaos he was about to be dragged into.
Young Gizmo Junior, a runt of a tabby who had yet to grow into his paws, fumbled up to the cottage’s porch with the kind of frenzied energy that comes from being torn away from interesting happenings. “Come quick, Mr Natori,” the kitten gasped. “It’s your friend!”
Natori lowered the cross-stitch he had finally been making progress on, and felt his heart dip along with it. “Oh no. What has he done now? Is it the mice? The rabbits? Please tell me he hasn’t fallen into the salmon river again--”
“No, Mr Natori, it’s worse. He’s singing!”
Natori blinked. "But he doesn’t sing,” Natori said. “At least,” he amended, “not while sober.”
‘Please don’t let it be catnip wine again, please don’t let it be catnip wine again, please don’t let it be catnip wine again,’ his mind chanted, ever hopeful that he had developed magic wishing powers since the last time he had fervently wished for a saner life. (Last Second Monday.)
x
It was not catnip wine.
It was somehow worse.
Natori slowly leaned over to Young Gizmo Junior and whispered, “And how long has he been at this?”
“He was on the...” Young Gizmo Junior counted on his claws and scrunched up his face when he surpassed his last easily countable claw, “eleventeenth verse when Grandpa told me to fetch you.”
Natori raised both eyebrows and nearly unsettled his spectacles in the process. “This is bad.”
“What’s he doing?” Young Gizmo Junior asked.
“I’ve heard of this before. He’s on the third stage of Searching For Himself.”
“Why does he need to search for himself? He’s right there.”
“You know that and I know that,” Natori said, “but cats who go searching for themselves don’t. The first stage is talking to oneself, the second is staring into the nearest water source--”
“Grandpa said he was staring at the well funny--”
“--and the third is bursting into song,” Natori continued. He couldn’t remember the next step, but that was mostly because the ex-king had begun another verse, and Natori’s mind had tapped out.
“If I were a jolly blacksmith,
What a happy cat I’d be,” the ex-king crooned, rounding towards Old McGregor’s workshop.
“I would do all kinds of blacksmith stuff in my blacksmithery...
“I’d hit the thing... with the other thing.
“Till I made a different thing!
“If I were a jolly blacksmith...”
The ex-king trailed off, and if Natori hadn’t been assured that this was the eleventeenth verse, he might well have believed that that would be the end of it. But the ex-king didn’t know the meaning of defeat - mostly because the Cat Kingdom didn’t have dictionaries - and so, after a little bit of muttering (that Natori caught the tail end of “No, I’m not feeling it. Besides, I’d get filthy. There must be something better”) he perked up and made a beeline for Maggie’s meat pie stand.
“If I were a friendly farmer,
“Wouldn’t that be oh so sweet?
“I’d be planting greens and lots of beans,
“And other things to eat.
“Then I’d plant some eggs, and a couple mice,
“Then a yummy salmon cake!”
The ex-king paused, vaguely aware somewhere in the recesses of his kittenhood education that it didn’t quite work that way.
(”No,” he muttered, “that’s not right,” and Natori briefly thought there was hope yet. Then the ex-king continued with, “Any moron can plant a cake,” and the farmer upbringing in Natori cringed.)
Natori leaned over to Young Gizmo Junior. “Why can I hear a pipe playing?”
“That’s Uncle Saburo,” the kitten replied cheerfully. “He’s really good!”
“He’s also encouraging someone who needs no encouragement. Trust me.”
“I want to be special,” the ex-king continued, undeterred from the whispered conversations. “Needed. Liked. I’ve got it!” he cried, and made a dash for Rosie’s valerian wine shop front.
(Part of Natori knew he should stop this. The other part really wanted to see how this worked out. Historically, the latter was a bad idea, but Natori put it down to shock.)
“If I were a merry brewer,
“That would be a grand career,
“I would pick the grapes and peel the grapes
“And stomp them into catnip beer-- dammit!”
The ex-king slumped down onto a convenient crate, which Rosie suddenly decided she didn’t need right now. “I don’t know how to do anything but be a king,” he lamented. “And no one wants me to be a king.”
“Mr Natori,” Young Gizmo Junior piped up, “shouldn’t you go help your friend?”
“Not yet,” Natori said. “Let him finish first.”
“Why?”
“Because one does not interrupt a cat when he’s singing an existential crisis song,” Natori replied firmly.
“If I’m just a jolly... nothing,
“What am I supposed to do?
“I don’t have a skill, no niche to fill,
“No one to come home to.”
Natori had a sink full of dirty dishes that argued otherwise.
“Don’t know where to go,
“Don’t know how to fit,
“Don’t know who to even be.
“If I were a jolly tailor... juggler... barber... wet nurse... cesspool worker...”
The ex-king sighed and shook his head. “What difference does it make? I would still be me...”
Natori waited a moment longer. When the last echoes of Uncle Saburo’s pipe playing had died away, he sighed and approached the aged cat. “Sire?”
“Go away Natori,” the ex-king grumbled. “I’m brooding.”
Natori didn’t go away. He waited a moment longer, just until the other cat’s ears began to twitch. He could read his old monarch’s tempers better than he could read his father’s book on Mouse Husbandry.
“Brooding’s rather boring, isn’t it, sire?”
The ex-king scowled. “Yeah.”
“Do you want go down to the Mouse’s Tale pub and see if we can convince Chaucer to let you try darts again? Maybe you’ll even hit the wall this time.”
“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.”
Stage four of Searching For Yourself, Natori decided, was getting yourself uproariously drunk.
If the rest of the evening was anything to go by, the ex-king agreed.
#day 4 musical#tcr birthday bash 2019#the cat returns#tcr birthday bash 2020#the cat queues#cat writes#the misadventures of royal retirement#aka my name so far for retired natori and CK#also there's a king in faerie tale theatre's Princess and the Pea who makes mad decrees and nobody listens#and that's basically become one of my little headcanons#like technically the cat kingdom has a lot of insane decrees#but they're not really used#decrees are more like a doodling board for the kings' consciousnesses#rather than actual lavvs#after this at least three old cats ask natori about getting the CK to sing in the village choir
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Soulless!, Kamaru, mentoring younger kids
A/N: ... I'm gonna be honest, dona, I have no idea what to do with this one. Like, I very much enjoyed writing in the Soulless!verse but I haven't done any additional explorations of how that whole 'verse has gone since then--pretty much I'm still only relying on those original posts I based my first one on. And I have done Kamaru's POV, if briefly, which isn't the problem either.
I think it's just that, well, maybe this is the problem inherent to the ask box challenge? In that, by necessity, the could/should/actually would need to be distinct enough premises for the structure to make sense. But I can't really come up with a solid enough single idea, much less three solid enough ideas. So, if you don't mind, here's a sort of brainstorm, stream of conscious-y type thing instead?
---
it could have gone like this:
it should have gone like this:
but it actually went like this:
So with this format, I usually try to come up with the three ideas and then figure out later which feels best to be the could/should/actually section. Generally I put the most canon or, alternatively, the most optimistic ficlet in the "should" and then based off that the "actually" tends to get the more pessimistic ficlet or the canon compliant ficlet if it didn't go into the "should" part. And then the "could" section is whatever is leftover. But no less loved!
With this prompt, I considered a few things like:
1) in the future, chuunin Kamaru "babysits" Kako's genin students.
But that didn't seem fair considering that would just be me playing around with my OCs from this fic and I don't know how to predict far enough into the future of Soulless!verse to know how the Kinokawa siblings may or may not have resolved the fact that Kamaru is Soulless. Which is the only thing differentiating that verse for Care!Kako and I don't know why the Soulless thing would be important while Kamaru is watching Kako's genin students unless it becomes VERY ALARMINGLY RELEVANT!
But that's no good! :( Because I wouldn't want the point of the story to be him being a danger to her students and at that point it would turn into a "Soulless!Kamaru is a vampire and the students are full of blood and that's all he can think of" kind of situation which is bad and not fun at all.
2) in the future, yet again, chuunin Kamaru becomes an Academy teacher.
Which a little bit could be a "one of the solutions that the Kinokawa siblings have found is if he eats a very very little bit from a lot of people and doesn't use too much chakra" and the Academy is very close to the Tower so he would be at the nexus of most people with a job that has the least chakra use.
But then that goes into yet another "Soulless!Kamaru is a vampire and the students are full of blood" situation. Which is a little skeezy and predatory because he could still get the same benefits of being near the Tower/Academy and not having to use a lot of chakra by being an Intel nin instead of being and Academy teacher.
3) Kako finds a few Soulless!babies (not literal babies, probably like five or six year olds? maybe they're leftovers from some of Orochimaru's experiments? ROOT agents?) and she's like... well... shit. Gotta put my money where my mouth is re: not killing Soulless babies outright. Kamaru is, essentially, their senpai in trying to live normal lives while being Soulless.
... except then that's a--if Kamaru doesn't already know by then--self-identity reveal for him. Or, at the very least, once more brings up the whole issue of "how did the Kinokawa siblings resolve the fact that Kamaru is soulless" which is not something I know and wouldn't want to presume by predicting?
---
I don't think I had any other ideas or, at least, nothing as equally concrete as the three above... sorry, dona, you know I love the prompts you send me. They always inspire some of my favorite ficlets. This one is just... I did not know how to parse this one at all.
But definitely feel free to send me some more! And this goes for everyone! Hopefully this format of ask box event won't continue to thwart me.
(Although, I have been looking at previous ask box events and, dang, this format is so tough in comparison! I did this to myself O_O)
#jacksgreyson#donapoetrypassion#prompt response#brainstorm#could should actually fic#dreaming of sunshine#(they call it) soulless#shikako nara#shikamaru nara
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Fanwork title meme
The lovely @otterandterrier tagged me, so here we go...
Rules: Look at the most recent 20 (or however many) fanwork titles on your AO3 account and answer the questions below.
My latest 20 titles:
Cover Me
A Lot Like You
Give It to Me
Sky Full of Stars
The Driver's Seat
The Solo Girls
Heaven When You Smile
A Little Longer
Liminal Space
Many Nights of Stars
After the Bath
Comfort
Blame it All on My Roots
The Lovers You Sent for Me
Her Smugglerness
That Look
Like Home
Inertia
Cub and Little Princess
More Love: Side Stories from the Epic Love 'Verse
***
1. How many titles of your fics are you happy with?
I’d say about 14. Some of them I’m happier with than others.
2. How many titles are you not happy with?
I’m not unhappy with any of them, really. But maybe about 3-4 of them are just okay.
3. How many did you scramble for at the last minute?
My first reaction to this question was “most of them,” but when I really look at it, I would say about 7-8 of them. Most of the ones I had trouble coming up with names for were the collections of multiple ficlets, where I definitely had a theme but sometimes found it hard to express what that theme was in a title.
4. How many did you know before you started writing/creating, or near the beginning?
Five, I think. “Cover Me” was always going to be that; “The Solo Girls” is a sequel to another fic, and I already knew that would be the title of the sequel when I ended the first fic. “Heaven When You Smile” was a series of five different vignettes, and I came up with the title for the whole thing when I wrote the first one. “Blame it All on My Roots” and “The Lovers You Sent for Me” were really inspired by the songs those lines come from, so I always knew those would be the titles.
5. How many are quotes from songs or poems?
Six: “Cover Me” (Bruce Springsteen song), “Give it to Me” (Timbaland song featuring Justin Timberlake and Nelly Furtado), “Sky Full of Stars” (Coldplay song), “Heaven When You Smile” (from “Jackie Wilson Said” by Van Morrison), “Blame It All on My Roots” (from “Friends in Low Places” by Garth Brooks), and “The Lovers You Sent For Me” (from “I Love to Hate You” by Erasure). Also, several of these stories are collections of ficlets that were originally posted on Tumblr, and a lot of those have song-based titles, too.
6. How many are other quotes?
None.
7. Which best reflects the plot of the story/content of the fanwork?
“More Love: Side Stories from the Epic Love ‘Verse” is pretty much exactly what it says on the tin.
8. Which best reflects the theme of the story?
“Inertia,” because it’s about Leia being both unable to move forward but unwilling and unable to go back as Han is in carbonite. She gets a bit of a push to help her out.
9. Which best reflects the character voice of the story/pov of the framework?
“Cub and Little Princess” because it’s a collection of ficlets about Han and Leia from the perspective of Chewbacca (who calls them “Cub” and “Little Princess,” respectively).
10. Which is your favorite title?
Difficult to pick, but I’d say “Blame It All On My Roots.” It picks up the song that inspired the fic, but it also alludes to Leia’s family roots (both her biological relationship to Darth Vader but also her inheritance as the daughter of Breha Organa, which she invokes in the story) as well as what people might consider her dubious associations with Han, Luke, and the rough-and-tumble Rogues, who are her found family through the war.
Tagging (do this for as many fics as you’d like, doesn’t have to be 20): @organanation, @chancecraz, @irenkaferalkitty, @yoyomarules, and honestly anyone else who would like to play!
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Brook’s Masterpost
Hello!
I have finally managed to get myself organized enough to compile all of my stories into one place! I put everything underneath a “Read More,” as I’m not entirely sure how long this post will get through time.
This Masterpost will be continuously updated with every story I have and will release.
I have a mix of G/t Stories and Non-g/t Stories.
Some of my stories are In Progress, some are On Hiatus, some are Complete and some are just purely One-Shots. (Unless I get inspired by something and feel compelled to write more for that certain universe, in which that story will then be re-marked.) I will label these all accordingly!
Enjoy!
--- G/t Stories ---
- Borrowers in the Attic -
Virgil, a young borrower, is abandoned by his parents after they told him to wait for them to come back. Patton finds him in the attic and decides that it isn’t fair for him to try and survive on his own.
Pairings: (Implied) Romantic/Parental Logicality, Platonic Moxiety
[ Chapter 1 ]
- On hiatus -
- Welcome to Fatherhood -
Roman is having trouble bonding with his boyfriend’s son. Virgil is convinced Roman is exactly like the rest of them, bound to leave him and Patton sooner or later.
Pairings: Romantic/Parental Royality, Familial Moxiety, Familial Prinxiety, Platonic (endgame romantic) Analogical.
[ One Shot ]
[ Ask Blog ]
- On hiatus -
- Nightingale -
Roman is captured by a group of bandits and is used for their entertainment because of his voice. Logan hears the soft tune, the breaking voice and the shouting and he lets his curiosity of the situation get the better of him.
Pairings: Platonic Logince, (Mentioned) Romantic Prinxiety
[ One Shot ]
- Complete -
- High Strung Hearts -
Patton can’t help a sad Logan, so he recruits Virgil instead.
Pairings: Platonic Analogical, Background Platonic LAMP/CALM
[ One Shot ]
- Complete -
- Heavy Silence -
Virgil refuses to speak. Logan and Roman are frustrated and Patton tries for what feels like the hundredth time.
Pairings: Platonic Moxiety, Background Platonic LAMP/CALM
[ Part 1 ]
- In progress -
- Horror Movies and Soft Landings -
Horror movies can be the bane of one’s existence, especially with an overactive imagination. Good thing Virgil drops in to ease Roman’s worries.
Pairing: Platonic Prinxiety
[ One Shot ]
- Complete -
- Thorns and Arrows -
Virgil, after narrowly escaping capture by humans who believe his witchcraft is demonic, ends up getting caught by Roman instead.
Pairings: Platonic Prinxiety, Brief Mentioned Logince
[ Part 1 ]
- In progress -
- Desperate Measures -
Logan, a borrower who has been captured by humans, is stuck inside a pet shop and separated from his family. Roman makes it his mission to get Logan out and back home with the assistance his borrower accomplice, Thomas.
Pairings: Romantic/Parental Logicality, Platonic Logince, Platonic TLAMP, Familial Analogical, Familial Moxiety.
[ Chapter 1 ] [ Chapter 2 ] [ Chapter 3 ] [ Chapter 4 ] [ Chapter 5 ] [ Final ]
[ Epilogue ]
[ Homeward Nightmares ]
- Complete -
- Broken Words -
Rescuing humans has never been too difficult for Roman. However, the little one currently glaring at him from its enclosure has proven to be a very different case.
Pairings: Platonic Prinxiety, incredibly brief mentions of Royality/Logicality.
[ One Shot ]
- Complete -
- Quiet Comfort -
When Virgil just wants to nap, Patton is more than happy to help.
Pairing: Platonic Moxiety
[ One Shot ]
- Complete -
- The Idiot Jar -
When Roman gets irritated enough with Remus, he puts his tiny twin into what he has proudly dubbed “The Idiot Jar.”
Pairing: Creativitwins
[ Part 1 ]
- On hiatus -
- A Little Lovesick -
Patton is a borrower that has a huge (pun intended) crush on Logan. Thing is, the human is so frustratingly oblivious to literally anything emotionally related.
Pairings: Romantic Logicality
[ One Shot ]
- Complete -
- A Little Misunderstanding -
“Good news: Logan’s shrink ray works. Bad News: Logan accidentally shrunk himself in the process. ??? News: He has been mistaken as a fellow “Borrower” by Patton, a tiny humanoid being who apparently has been living in his walls all this time.”
Pairings: Platonic Logicality
[ One Shot ]
- Complete -
- Snap-traps and Misconceptions -
In a world where humans are viewed as pests, Logan is constantly asked to set traps “just in case.” However illogical he believes this to be, he is pleasantly—and completely—surprised to find that the trap actually works.
Pairings: Platonic Analogical, Platonic Logince
[ One Shot ]
- In progress -
- Enchanted Shackles -
When Virgil, a Shifter, is wrongly imprisoned for something he didn’t do, he has to pay the consequences of another’s actions. Except for the fact that he’s sick and tired of the whole charade and is ready to do just about anything to get out.
Pairings: Platonic Moxiety, Platonic Analogical
[ One Shot ]
- Complete -
- Crash Landing -
When a ship goes into auto-pilot and ends up hurtling towards earth, there isn’t exactly much one can do.
Pairings: Platonic Moxiety, Mentioned platonic Analogince
[ One Shot ]
- Complete -
- Glass Jars and Rolling Thunder -
A concerned veterinary student and an injured merman stuck in a jar cross paths. Things can only go up from here... Right?
Pairings: Platonic Analogical
[ Part 1 ]
- In progress -
- What’s in a Name? -
Roman’s a fae with a soft heart. This soft heart eventually leads him into getting seen by the human child he didn’t want to be seen by. Unfortunately, while he knows leaving and never coming back is the right choice, hearing about Patton’s guardian leaves him feeling conflicted.
Pairings: Platonic Royality
[ One Shot ]
- Complete -
- Paint Water -
Roman takes an accidental dip into Virgil’s paint water. Who knew a human could be so annoying about it.
Pairings: Platonic Prinxiety
[ One Shot ]
- Complete -
- Student Struggles -
He knew it had been an illogical descion. And yet, he’d made the choice anyway.
Pairings: Platonic Analogical
[ One Shot ]
- Complete -
--- Non-g/t Stories ---
- Thunderstorms and Stowaways -
Logan is a dragon that has seen the horrors of humanity and refuses to allow such poisoned mindsets to infect his son. Keeping Virgil away from humans has been relatively simple—until one all but stumbles into his presence harbouring a hatchling of his own.
Pairings: Platonic Logince, Familial Analogical, Familial Royality
[ Part 1 ]
[ A Snowy Twilight Find ]
[ Childish Innocence ]
- On hiatus -
- Sick and Sleepless -
Virgil gets food poisoning and Logan is quick to assist him through it.
Pairings: Parental/Romantic Analogical, Familial Logicality, Brief Familial Moxiety
[ One shot ]
- Complete -
- Blink and You’ll Miss It -
Roman has been crushing hard on his best friend but not wanting to break up the group or risk Virgil hating him, he suffers in silence. Up until Logan has had enough of it.
Pairings: Romantic Prinxiety, Romantic Logicality
[ One shot ]
- Complete -
- Parental Prinxiety Verse -
[ Dad Against the Darkness ]
Being a father is a lot of responsibility, being a new father even more so. When Virgil wakes with a nightmare in the middle of the night, Roman is right there with him.
- Complete -
[ Snipped Wires ]
School can be rough, especially when one’s peers already see them as the “odd one out.” It only gets worse when Virgil’s headphones get snipped. After trying to stand up for himself and instead gets painted in the wrong light, the school calls his Dad—but Roman only gets one side of the story.
- Complete -
- Platonic Anxceit Short -
Virgil struggles with his anxiety, and Deceit steps in to assist him through it.
[ One Shot ]
- Complete -
- Of Stars and Royal Gardens -
When the king of the Eastern Kingdom falls ill suddenly, the wedding that was supposed to unite the Eastern and Northern Kingdoms via the princes suddenly gets moved immediately.
Pairings: Romantic Prinxiety, Familial Analogical, Platonic Logince
[ One Shot ]
- Complete -
- A Dragon’s Prince -
When Prince Virgil gets kidnapped right from the castle gardens by a dragon, he expects nothing less than never seeing the light of day again. However, this particular dragon seems to be a bit...odd.
Pairing: Platonic Prinxiety
[ Part 1 ] [ Part 2 ]
- In progress -
- A Curse and a Promise -
The Imagination can be a dangerous place. Navigating it can be difficult. It’s worse when the one person you were there with is knocked out cold. is True Loves Kiss really as true as the movies make it out to be?
Pairing: Romantic Prinxiety, Background Romantic Logicality
[ One Shot ]
- Complete -
- Catharsis -
Virgil receives letters from resentful relatives. It’s a good thing he doesn’t have to fight this battle on his own.
Pairings: Romantic Prinxiety
[ Part 1 ]
[ Prequel ]
- Complete -
Daily Ficlet Masterpost!
#Brook writes#Masterpost#Brook's Masterpost#g/t#borrowers#giant/tiny#giant#tiny#infinitesimal!sides#Sanders Sides#non-g/t
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Happy Holidays! I'm dropping into some of my fave creator's ask boxes and encouraging them to Spread the Cheer by Sharing What You Created This Year! Before a new year starts, take some time to reflect on the things you wrote or created to bless the fandom this past year. Remind us all of the awesomeness you put out there in 2019, and feel free to tease us with things to come in 2020! Then pass this along to your faves, so they can share in the fun!
Aaah! Thank you anon(s)! ❤️❤️❤️
2019 is my first full year of fic-ing, and according to AO3 I have written nearly three hundred and sixty-six thousand words, which considering that I was always the kid who submitted nine and one third pages for a ten page essay is kind of astounding.
I had three fics begun in 2018 that carried on to this year, the first is Finding the Altar, my first attempt at the secret dating trope, mostly written last November but I wrote the epilogue for the 2019 January Joy. The second carry-over is Another Brick in the Wall, begun exactly a year ago and finished a few months into the year. It is the high school AU that I never meant to write but that ended up taking over my life, still one of my favourite fics because of how much I enjoyed writing it. Finally there’s also Both Are Infinite, which was started last September and is still unfinished. I am SO sorry for that, but I promise it will be finished. It is not abandoned!!
For things started in 2019 we have:
The Key, an angsty, smutty one-shot written for January Joy
Their Way By Moonlight, the love of my life and my number one priority for 2020. It’s a 3B canon divergence in which Emma and Killian are soulmates who can share dreams, which leads to him coming for her and restoring her memories in New York in a very different way than in canon. There’s also a different curse on Storybrooke and a very different development for Emma and Killian’s relationship, along with loads of Captain Cobra and cursed Snowing, and an arc for Regina (including a partnership between her and Killian) that I really love.
Honeysuckle, the purest thing I’ve ever written. Precious cinnamon roll Librarian Killian, and single-mother Emma who gets caught in a precarious situation until he comes to her rescue. Inspired by @shireness-says
Three Non-Blondes, secret-dating attempt number two. Very silly, but fun, with maybe my favourite version of Mary Margaret.
The Depths of Love, another 3B divergence with no second curse. Emma trying to work out her feelings and Killian trying to protect himself from heartbreak. Also my very first collaboration with @thisonesatellite and honestly I’m not sure this story would exist without her.
The smutty trio of Schadenfreude parts One and Two, and Steak and Something on the Side. Voyeur Neal and Asshole Walsh.
Osaka-shi Serenade, the most personal thing I’ve written. Based on how my husband and I met when we were teaching English in Japan. Still unfinished, but again, *will* be!
Two Sunday Mornings, a pair of angsty ficlets from each of their POVs, plus Brothers Jones.
One More Kiss, a Lieutenant Duckling short fic that I didn’t love when I wrote it but has really grown on me, to the point where I might (*might*) expand it at some point. Quite angsty, but happy at the end.
The Great Grammar Caper, a very very VERY silly future fic in which Deputy Jones is the hero we need but his efforts are foiled by a devious Granny.
Rainbound, a take on the snowed-in trope, only with rain.
The Parquet Man, absolutely and without question the most fun I’ve ever had writing. The storied romance that is Captain Floor, told from the POV of Killian (by me) and Floor (by @thisonesatellite, who writes unorthodox POVs like NO ONE ELSE).
The Very Witching Time and its follow-up The Sleep of the Sun, written for @cssns and @cspupstravaganza respectively. My very favourite verse, in which Emma is a witch and Killian cursed in the form of a dog. There is magic and an extraordinary house with a sentient garden, and creepy forest, and more magic, and Cora with an evil plot, and even more magic, and some adorable and surprising children at the end. PLUS some absolutely stunning art by @mariakov81 to accompany it ❤️❤️❤️
How Not To Flirt, based on a prompt. Emma tries to flirt with Killian but he fails entirely to see it.
Words Unspoken, a friends-to-roommates-to-lovers story full of mutual pining and very, very poor communication.
The Ballad of Emma and Killian, in which they are not famous when they meet, but when their careers take off they stand by each other through it all. Rockstar!Emma and actor!Killian.
On What They Fall, my magnificent octopus. Angry, damaged Killian who can’t see how much Emma loves him. Mutual pining, angst, Captain Book brOTP, and people working through their emotions, prioritising their mental health, and coming out of hard times strong and brave enough to allow themselves to be happy. Another personal favourite.
abandon, a birthday gift for @kmomof4. Neverland sex-pollen smut, pure and simple. Well, simple anyway.
come sit at our feast, a Halloween fic written for @csrolereversal Halloweek. Without question the most out-there thing I’ve written, with all the OUAT characters reimagined as supernatural beings who come together every Halloween to throw themselves a hell of a party.
Drink The Wild Air, a birthday gift for @thisonesatellite which will be finished SOON. The Captain Duckling high-seas swashbuckling adventure tale I’ve wanted to write for some time. Featuring Brothers Jones 2.0 and CASTLE STORMING.
Drabbles, a series of short fics of all kinds, written when I need to clear my mind.
Across The Snowy Places, a Thanksgiving tropestravaganza. Featuring secret dating, snowed-in, only one bed, heater not working, favourite author, found families, matchmaking, and drunken affection/confession. ALL THE TROPES.
To Keep It All The Year, my Christmas gift for @katie-dub. Final chapter coming soon! This story has just flowed out of me. It features angry, broken Killian, single-mother Emma, adorable wee bab Henry, and some extraordinary Christmas magic.
WHEW!! I think that’s all of them! I’m a bit 😮😲😳🤯 looking at this list. It’s been a less-than-great year on the whole, to be honest, but at least productive on the fanfic front!!
Thanks for the ask, anon, and I hope you have a great Christmas and a brilliant New Year!!
-
#asks#asked and answered#2019 round-up#holy heck#that's a lot of fic#kind anon#anon ask#profdanglaisstuff
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