#october fic challange
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hello and welcome to the very first leveragetober!!
here is the prompt list for leveragetober 2023!! under the cut will be a more in detail/id for the guidelines and prompt lists and feel free to either dm or send an ask if you have any questions!!
Guidelines
Tag your posts #leveragetober23 and #leveragetober or just tag the blog so we can all see your creations!!
The prompts are here as a guideline, if you have an idea based on a prompt, that's totally fine, have fun with it!
You don't have to worry about following every single prompt either, if you're too busy or don't have any ideas, that's okay too, this is meant to be fun not an added stressor
ID Prompt List.
Food 17. Power
Rain 18. Redemption
Family 19. Job Gone Wrong
Crossover 20. Kids
Birthday 21. Trapped
Caught 22. Chess
Lies 23. Monster/Ghost Hunters
Museum 24. Blood
Past 25. Role Swap
Alternate Universe 26. Fantasy/Magical
Kiss 27. Reunion
Pride 28. Vents
Confession 29. Nightmare
Future 30. Halloween
Poison 31. Free Space
Game Nights
thanks for all the support and we can't wait to see what everyone creates!! <3
#leveragetober#leveragetober23#leverage#leverage redemption#leverage ot3#october challenge#october art challenge#eliot spencer#nate ford#sophie devereaux#parker leverage#alec hardison#breanna casey#harry wilson#october fic challange
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Fili 2022 Whumptober Masterlist
You can find all 31 days of my 2022 Fili whimptober fics here! I’ll be bringing them out day by day and I hope you enjoy. These will probably just something short (400 words to 1000 words) unless I feel motivated as I write.
Please understand that these fics depict forms of physical, emotional and psychological violence and/or pain and may not be for everyone. Each fic will have individual warnings of triggering content contained in that fic so please READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. IF IT WILL TRIGGER/UPSET DO NOT READ THE FIC.
Here’s a little guide that may help if your unsure if you want to read.
⚔️ violence/gore/hardcore whump
❤️🩹 soft whump/brushed mentions
🥲 emotional/grief/angst whump
🌸 comfort
❤️🔥 nsfw/smut
💀 character death
Also as a bonus 🦋 for my favorite stroies
Day 1- A little out of the ordinary - Chained and Moon Touched
⚔️ -Gandalf warned them the would have hidden enemies if they reclaimed Erebor. Fili had expected Orcs and goblins, not this.
Day 2- Nowhere to run - Stupid Bloody Wood
💀(Smaug) -Smaug corners Fili in Laketown, or so he thinks.
Day 3- Hair’s breath from death - My Brave Warrior
🦋🌸💀(reader) -Fili finds you after a battle at the Blue Mountains and keeps you company as you pass on to the halls of the maker.
Day 4- Dead on your feet - Shotgun Shells and Glass
⚔️Fili remembers just how he found out zombies were real.
Day 5- Every whumpiee’s needs -Your Good Boy
🦋🌸 You kidnap Fili in an attempt to ransom him back to the royal family for gold. The ransom is quickly forgotten when your prisoner begs you to let him stay.
Day 6- Proof of life - Nightmares
🥲 🌸 Fili survives the war, but barely. Recovery is hard and long. After a nasty nightmare, Fili tries his best to prove he’s OK to his one and he’s not going anywhere.
Day 7- The way you shake and shiver - Gold broken (part 1)
⚔️ Fili is chained and whipped in the throne room for defying a gold sickened Thorin.
Day 8- Everything hurts and I’m dying - Safe and Sound by my Brother’s Side
⚔️ 🥲 💀 (fili and kili) Fili and Kili die in the battle of the five armies they way they lived. Together. (this is based from a head cannon I made about the song safe and sound from the hunger games hence the song. read about it here)
Day 9- The very noisy night -Thunderstorms and Kisses
🦋🌸 The thunderstorm outside sounds far to similar to the battle for Fili. Narni helps him through it.
Day 10- Poor unfortunate souls - Gold Broken (part 2)
🥲 (soft) Fili struggles with recovery and the realization that something needs to be done to stop his uncle.
Day 11- “911 what’s your emergency?” - Amad Help
🦋❤️🩹 Little Fili has to protect his brother when they wonder away from their mother at the markets
Day 12- What could go wrong - Frustrations (part 1)
❤️🩹 Having received the worst wounding out of the company during the war, Fili is given the safest, easiest job in the mountain. What could go wrong?
Day 13- Cant make an omelette without breaking a few legs - Of Gold and Lust
🦋❤️🩹 Thorin dies on the quest and Fili leads the company to the mountain. It is Fili who suffers from the gold sickness and is willing to sacrifice Dain’s army for his gold.
Day 14- Die a hero or live long enough to become a villain - Gold Broken (part 3)
❤️🩹 Fili is forced to make a choice. His uncle or his kingdom.
Day 15- Emotional damage - Healing
❤️🩹 🌸 Fili screams himself awake years after the battle of the five armies, and in a struggle with his nightmares, accidentally hurts his one.
Day 16- No way out - Caught, Not Broken (part 1)
⚔️ Fili is kidnapped and beaten
Day 17- Hanging by a thread - Cruelly Hung
⚔️ A young Fili find out just how cruel humans can be to dwarves when he is hung by his hands and left to die.
Day 18- Lets break the ice - Caught, Not Broken (part 2)
⚔️ Fili has been shackled and beaten, but doesn’t break until his whumper reveals their face. A very familiar face.
Day 19- Enough is enough - Ghosts
🦋❤️🩹 🥲 (for the reader) 💀 (Kili, Thorin, Vili and Frerin) Kili knows his brother has been through a lot, but the drinking needs to stop. It’s a bit hard to convince him however, when he can’t even hear your voice.
Day 20- It’s been a long day Carried to Safty - Stolen Away
🦋🌸 After a long and grueling council session, Fili’s one saves him.
Day 21- Famous last words - Off With Their Head
🦋⚔️ 🥲 💀 (OC) “Pathetic” was the last word his childhood bully had spat at him as he left him lying beaten in the street. Now Fili was king, and as he sat on his throne, said bully kneeling before him begging for forgiveness, all he can do is sneer and spit one word. “Pathetic”.
Day 22- Pick your poison - Merry Berry Pollen
⚔️ After stumbling into a toxic flower on the quest, Fili loses his mind and attacks his brother.
Day 23- At the end of their rope - The Old Gods
🦋❤️🩹 🌸 After raiding an orc camp Fili finds a girl chained up and terrified. There something strange about her though.
Day 24- Fight, flight or freeze - Frustrations (part 2)
⚔️ After the cave in narrowly misses a still injured Fili, he struggles to survive.
Day 25- Silence is golden - Shut Up Durin
❤️🩹 Fili is forced to stay silent by his abusers as to not wake up him brother that is asleep next to him
Day 26- No one left behind - The Only Question That Matters
⚔️ 🥲 💀 (Every one in the company but Fili) Fili is the only survivor of the company and deals with the survivor’s guilt for the rest of his life.
Day 27- Pushed to the limit - Knives and Restraints
🦋❤️🩹 🌸 ❤️🔥 Everyone knows Fili has a knife kink, but his one finds out just how far he pushes the boundaries of pleasure and pain.
Day 28- It’s just the tip of the iceberg Forced to watch - Watch Me Dance
❤️🩹 Fili takes too long to ask the girl to dance and has to watch her dance with someone else.
Day 29- What doesn’t kill me... - Frustrations (part 3)
❤️🩹 Fili wakes up after the rock slide to find the consequences of the accident.
Day 30- Note to self: don’t get kidnapped - Branded
❤️🩹 🥲 Fili deals with the aftermath of being kidnapped and branded.
Day 31- A light at the end of the tunnel - Faceless Memories And Broken Promises
❤️🩹 🥲 💀 (Fili, Vili) Fili is reunited with his father in the halls of Mahal, he just doesn't realize it at first.
#whumptober2022#masterlist#fili#fili durin#King!Fili#whump fic#whump community#whumper#whumpee#werewolf#october#my writting#writting challange#comfort whump#fili x reader#nori#bofur#dwalin#Balin#Dori#ori#bombur#bifur#kili#kili durin#lady dis#oin#gloin#the company of thorin oakensheild#beheading
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Field of Marigolds
Summary: Marc has been having bad dreams and Jake has been depressed. Can Steven find out why? Can he find a solution that won’t leave them all in deeper trouble? Steven asks questions about a culture that they all lost.
Warnings: Some depictions of child abuse/violence and panic attacks.
Word Count: 4714
Word Prompt: Reeds
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Golden. Quiet. Alone.
Marc had many dreams about the field of reeds since returning from Cairo. None of them good. A nightmare of being left alone for all eternity.
He would wake feeling despair as he crawled from the darkness, gasping out Steven’s name. There was always that moment of silence when he waited for Steven to wake up and respond. That moment of pure fear that perhaps this time he would be alone.
Then he would get the tired sounds of Steven mumbling his hello. The relief would wash over him and he would sink back into the bed with a heavy sigh.
When Jake made himself known and started to communicate with them, Marc had started to look back on his life and pick out the times when his memory gaps were most likely occupied by the quiet and over protective alter. Their memories were all still a mess, but some pieces were starting to at least make sense.
On mornings when he woke up in a panic, he would always still reach for Steven. The one that had always been there when he needed comfort, but sometimes he would wait to see if Jake might reach back too.
Fall had settled in and items of warmth and comfort were starting to make themselves more prominent in their flat. Steven insisted on filling his closet with oversized sweaters covered in patterns and colors that made Marc gag. Jake had switched out his lighter coat and gloves for something more solid and sustaining while Marc kept his usual attire, choosing to brave the cold and rain as he did everything else: Ignore it.
They were getting used to one another. Arguments about what to wear or how to style their hair cropped up but usually were quickly settled. Sometimes they argued over food or what to drink. In the span of a few months they had only had a couple of full melt downs where Layla had been forced to step in and break things up before someone did something stupid.
As fall carried on, Marc had noticed Jake becoming more agitated. He was quiet and clipped when spoken to. He shut them off when he fronted and sometimes Marc or Steven would front to find themselves in the middle of a park or somewhere random in the rain when Jake had decided he was done.
“What the hell is seasonal affective disorder?” Marc huffed as he pulled off the gloves and shoved them into his pockets. It was the second time in so many days where he had come to the front in the city. He had found himself staring in at a bakery window with brightly colored rolls with swirls and lines on the top.
“It’s exactly what it sounds like.” Steven chimed in from the window reflection. “The sun starts to go away and you get depressed. Maybe he needs more vitamins or one of those special sun lights?”
“I doubt very much that Jake is affected by the lack of sun. The man works the nightshift for crying out loud.” Marc adjusted the cap and wished he were wearing his cubs hat. It had a better brim for keeping the rain out of his face.
Steven shrugged and glanced inside the bakery, trying to figure out what had made Jake decide to run. “Wouldn’t mind a sweet myself, since we’re here.”
“Not sure it’s vegan, buddy.” Marc checked his pockets for his wallet and keys. It was always so jarring to be left out in the cold by Jake. He never knew what he had on him or if he was supposed to go find the car or not.
“Maybe Layla would like a sweet.” Steven smiled. “Those look real good. And colorful!”
Marc sighed and went inside. Steven knew how to get Marc to do things he would normally scoff at. Steven loved grand gestures and buying Layla silly things that made her smile.
Marc paused in the doorway and looked around. It was a foreign shop, which wasn’t odd to see in London. Marc shrugged, though he suddenly felt himself on guard. There was something about the place that twinged at the back of his mind. Some memory that felt fuzzy and not quite his own floated just out of reach.
“Hola, Señor.” The shopkeep smiled brightly. A pot of bright orange flowers sat next to the register.
Suddenly Marc was swimming as he felt himself become untethered. Steven blinked hard as he was slammed into the driver’s seat. A sensation he had not felt in a long time as he waited for the world to stop spinning.
“M’alight.” Steven mumbled as he struggled to figure out what had happened. “Right. Uh… Hi. Sorry. Off day.” He nodded hello to the shop keep and smiled uncertainly. “I was hoping to get a few of those.” He pointed to the colorful rolls. “They are so pretty.”
“Pan dulce.” The man smiled. “Sweet bread. Those ones are called conchas in some places because they look like seashells. Very popular for children and pretty ladies.” He winked.
Steven nodded and picked out a couple in different colors. He hesitated as he saw an oddly shaped bread in the next display over. “What are those? They smell so nice! Zesty like oranges.”
“Ah, pan de muertos. A seasonal bread for this time of year.” The man nodded.
Steven looked up in surprise. “Muertos?”
“Yes.” The man smiled. “For day of the dead. A little something to honor our loved ones who are gone.”
“Oh…” Steven stared at the bread for a moment then shook his head. “Just the sweet breads, please.”
He checked out, looking down at the pretty orange flowers curiously as he handed over the cash. “Marigolds? Right? The flowers I mean. Those are marigolds? They don’t grow so well over here. They do best in the sun.”
It was difficult for Steven not to immediately info dump. He wanted to start up on Indian culture that used marigolds as a way to celebrate and worship. They were a symbol of brightness and the sun, placed around gods and goddesses and laid out in weddings and festive occasions. He was not as versed in this culture or mythology as he was Egyptology, so he made a mental note to freshen up a bit on it.
“Yes. From Mexico actually.” The shopkeeper looked sad. “I do miss them. My mother had a talent for growing them. She sold them to families this time of year. Gave them for free if they were mourning a child.”
“Oh��” Steven flushed. “That’s very kind of her…” He had gone for the happy use and completely overlooked the Latin American use. Strange how it had not come to his mind at all. Even stranger, how he had never thought to look any of that culture up.
Steven nodded and collected his bread. “Thank you.”
Leaving the shop he started the walk home. It took him a moment to gather what street he was on. Jake tended to wander into strange areas when out, while Steven liked to stay on the beaten path.
“Marc?” Steven quietly poked around. “You alright? We’re out of the shop now. Did you need a minute?”
He felt a rustle at the back of his mind and knew Marc was close enough to hear him but still unwilling to come out.
“Marc, are we Latin American?” Steven flushed at how odd the question sounded. “I mean, I’m English. But I suppose that’s all in my head, innit? I wasn’t born over here. My parents weren’t English. I’m Jewish. I know that. I remember school and prayer and temple and Dad a bit. Those memories are mine. I’ve at least managed to sort those out. But…”
Steven paused as he waited at a crosswalk with some other people. He liked to speak out loud. He loved the feel of using his own mouth and voice when speaking to Marc. It felt real if he spoke. It felt like he was a real person and not some voice floating in the void. He also understood what speaking out loud looked like to other people and often embarrassed himself. He was trying to get better at this part.
He thought about his question again as he crossed the street. How else was he to put it? “The body is Latin American.”
There was silence for a moment then Marc sighed and gave the smallest of shrugs. “Yeah. Really we’re from Chicago. You know that. The body is Chicago-ian.”
Steven frowned and felt a memory stirr. From the fuzzy detail, he knew it wasn’t his. As soon as it started it stopped, pushed back and shut off as Marc fell silent again.
Steven sensed Marc wanted him to drop it but a new curiosity had awakened inside him. This was something he didn’t yet know or understand. “Marigolds…” Steven looked up at the cross street names and took a hard turn as he made way for his favorite bookstore.
–
Golden.
So golden it warmed the very air. This time, it did not grow up around him, but spread out at his feet as if guiding him. Petals rolling gently past him and spreading out as if inviting him down a path.
He was not alone this time. Jake stood before him. He spoke softly, his voice carrying on a breeze that Marc could not feel.
“What?” Marc frowned as he only heard a garble of sounds he didn’t recognize. “I don’t understand.”
Jake spoke louder, faster. The sounds moved past him, unobtainable no matter how he reached for them.”
The wind picked up and a language he had long forgotten slammed into him. “I don’t understand.”
Jake held out a hand, pleading at first then growing angry as the Spanish turned accusatory.
“I don’t understand!” Marc yelled. He covered his ears. It was too golden here. Too warm. The flowers were glowing and blinding him.
Something moved in the flowers behind him. Turning, he found a familiar boy. The boy smiled. “Hermano.” It started to rain. “Te recuerdo.”
Marc jolted awake so hard that he shoved Layla and fell off the bed.
He lay on the floor, staring up at the window across the room, watching the London rain pitter patter down the glass.
“Marc? What the hell?” Layla mumbled sleepily. “Are you okay?”
Was he okay? He couldn’t remember the last time he had been terrified of the rain.
Something inside him clenched down in fear and he covered his ears to block out the sound.
He heard Layla shift on the bed and felt her presence as she leaned over the edge of the bed to look down at him. “Hey? You alright?”
His mouth moved on its own. “Perdí a alguien.”
Layla blinked. “What? I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
Marc shook his head and closed his eyes. “Stop it. Stop. I don’t want to hear it! I don’t speak fucking Spanish!”
Marc could hear the sound of the rain flowing down the gutter and into the street. Washing everything away. Flooding the field of flowers.
His eyes rolled back as he was overwhelmed. A groggy Steven blinked awake and stared up at Layla. “Hmnh? What are you doing up there? Wait… What am I doing down here? What’s going on?”
Layla sighed and reached out to help pull him back up into the bed. “I have no idea. I think someone had a bad dream? I’m not sure who. There was Spanish and then Marc had a panic attack for about a second before you got here.” She gave an apologetic smile. “It happened really fast.”
“Spanish?” Steven snuggled into her and buried his face in his pillow. “What Spanish?”
“Pretty Alyen?”
Steven turned his head in his pillow just enough to look at her with one eye.
She flushed and looked away. “English is not my first language! I speak three other languages and Spanish is not one of them!”
Steven groaned and buried his face back into the pillow. “I think Jake is upset about something. It’s upsetting Marc too, but I don’t think Marc understands why or what it is.”
“And you don’t know what any of it could be?” She moved to gently stroke his back.
Steven shook his head into the pillow. “Wish I did. Whatever it is, it’s between them. I have no memory of any of that. Being English and all…”
He could hear her chewing her lower lip. It was something she did when unsure about something or thinking about something she wasn’t sure she wanted to bring up.
He had to hand it to her, since coming back to London and staying with them, she had asked very few questions. Maybe she was worried she would ask the wrong ones. She had certainly learned a lot and taken in a lot in the span of a very short time. Especially with Jake entering the picture.
Steven looked back at her and moved to take a hand, holding it gently to his chest. “Love, just ask. It’s okay to ask. I promise I won’t be mad. None of us will be mad if you ask.”
“Why does Jake speak spanish?” She looked at him curiously. “I’ve never heard Marc speak Spanish. You certainly don’t. You know more French than Spanish from what I can gather. He must have picked it up from somewhere. You can’t just form as a person knowing a language. You have to be around it.”
Steven lay there for a moment thinking about the question. He reached out, trying to see if Marc or Jake were near the surface. When he found both buried deep inside, he sighed.
“Mom was Latin American. I don’t know from where or how many generations back. She spoke Spanish sometimes. Mostly on the phone to relatives. I think we must have met them at some point. I have no memories of this. I didn’t know I was… The body was… Hispanic, too.” He had gone through a complicated day of emotions when he had learned all this. Marc had refused to talk about any of it so he had been forced to coerce it out of Jake, which had taken him hours to get just this much. Jake had finally shared the memory of listening to her talk on the phone in rapid fire Spanish.
Between the three of them, Steven still didn’t fully understand. He would have to do more research into it later. The hard part was that he wasn’t sure he wanted to do the research. It had been kept from him for a reason. It wasn’t part of his own backstory or memories.
“I’m a fictive.” Steven didn’t like thinking about it. “My memories are… If it doesn’t fit my story to make me then I don’t have them.” He pulled the pillow down and hugged it for a moment, finding comfort in the weight and feel of it.
“Hey.” Layla moved closer and hugged him. “We don’t have to talk about it.”
“But I want to know.” Steven frowned. “I want to know why they are so upset. I want to help them.”
Layla was quiet a moment. “Sometimes I worry I will forget my own language.”
Steven looked at her in surprise.
“When I left Egypt I didn’t speak Arabic for over a year. Not even once. Not even when I was alone with myself.” She gently stroked his arm, tracing the familiar muscles and lines she found there. “When we went back I stumbled on my words. I spoke slower. It took me almost an hour before I got back into my normal rhythm. It was scary. I felt like I was losing a part of myself. Like I had let my heritage down. Like I was letting my father down. Like I was forgetting him.”
Steven fidgeted with the pillow, trying to hide his distress. “You should never feel that way. He was so proud of you!”
“I know.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “It came back to me. It just… For that hour I looked at myself and didn’t know who I was.”
“Do you think Marc forgot? Do you think he used to know Spanish?” Steven blinked. “Is that where Jake comes from? But why? Why would he take it all? Why does he hold onto it so hard when it comes from such a place of hurt?”
Layla shrugged. “Jake is complicated. So is Marc. I don’t understand what goes on between them. Something is upsetting one of them and the other isn’t exactly helping.”
Steven nodded then remembered the flowers. “What’s today?”
Layla reached across him to grab her phone from the side table. “October 31st. Happy Halloween I suppose.”
Steven made a face. “I hate scary things. I’m the worst fictive ever.”
Layla laughed and kissed him on the forehead. “You are fearless where it matters.”
He smiled a little. “Thank you, love.”
He squeezed the pillow then moved to nestle into her side. “I have an idea. I don’t think they’re going to like it. It might be a terrible idea, honestly. There’s a good chance it could backfire and well… If you thought Chernobyl was a meltdown disaster…”
“You’re saying you want me as support just in case I need to intervene?” She looked at him curiously.
Steven nodded. “If I upset Marc that much and then I also upset Jake, I might be flying solo for a day or two. They might never speak to me again!” He suddenly looked scared. “Maybe I shouldn’t. I don’t think I can handle that. I hate when they cut me out.”
“Steven, do what you think is best to help them, but don’t worry so much. They love you and would never shut you out forever. I trust you to take care of them.” She smiled and wrapped her arms around him.
He nodded and yawned. “What time is it?”
“Three.” Layla sighed. “Marc always has his nightmares at this hour. It’s like he knows that this is the perfect hour to ruin a perfectly good sleep schedule.”
“In the morning, I need to run to the store and pick up a few items. Then I need to do some more research.” This was going to take him all day, but he hoped it was worth it.
–
The house smelled like warm bread and oranges. Steven had returned to the bakery and purchased some pan de muerto. He had also found a small toy in a shop that he couldn’t pass up.
Sliding out a table, he placed a newly purchased children’s blanket over it then set out a plate of the bread. A cup of orange juice was set next to it. Something he thought might compliment the orange zest of the bread nicely.
A small tea candle was lit and he placed the toy to the side, a little astronaut waving nicely.
He had printed out a baseball pennant for the Chicago Cubs and carefully cut it out, taping it to the wall above the table.
Lastly, he set a couple of marigold flowers on the table. He had explained the situation to the man at the bread shop and he had practically thrust the whole pot of flowers at Steven. Steven had politely declined but had asked for just a couple of clippings.
Stepping back, he sighed. “It looks pitiful.”
Layla shook her head. “I think it looks lovely, Steven. Go ahead. See if they are ready.”
Steven nudged around. Of course he found Marc first, easily pulling him out of his deep sleep.
“What’s going on? What time is it?” Marc looked from Layla to the table. “What is this?”
“It’s midnight. Steven wanted to try something. Don’t be mad at him.” She gave him a stern look. “He worked hard at this.
Marc frowned and moved closer. A memory tugged, but it wasn’t his. Refused to be his. He pushed back from it and crossed his arms. “Why would he bother? Waste of time.” He moved as if to blow out the candle then stopped when he saw the little waving astronaut.
His hand lifted in a returned wave.
“Abuelita had one of these.” He gestured at the table dismissively. “Bigger. Better looking too. More flowers.” Marc crossed his arms and looked away. “We had to pay respects every year. It was Importante. Mom wouldn’t put one up.” He struggled to get the words out, fighting against the desire to shut down. “I asked dad… If I could. I wanted to… She threw the flowers…” His breathing started to grow erratic.
His breathing stilled in an instant as Jake blinked in, looking around for a moment to take in the table.
He picked up a flower and slowly spun it between his fingers, watching the petals rotate. He mumbled something in Spanish then set the flower back down gingerly.
“Are you okay?” Layla asked softly.
Jake inhaled deeply then slowly exhaled. “Yes. I think so.”
“Is Marc okay?” She was always hesitant to ask.
Jake took a moment. “Yeah. We always wanted an Ofrenda. Abuelita’s was so beautiful. The candles and the flowers… We loved the stories she told as she lit each candle for each person. When Randall died, we tried to set up our own. We thought he deserved to be with all the pretty lights and flowers.”
Layla was quiet as Jake shifted on his feet slightly. He had a way of speaking of their bad memories like a casual observer. She knew he was far from partial to it all. There was always barely simmering rage just under the surface of them, waiting to smother out the pain that threatened to rise up.
He put his hands in his pockets for a moment, remembering what Marc could not. The screams. The rage. The overturned table. The flower pot crashing into his head as it flew across the room. The bloody gash that needed stitches. The lies at the doctors office that he had told. It was not the first time Jake had taken over to protect them, but it was the first memory that he had closed off as his own.
“We never had one again. Marc stopped speaking Spanish after that. Refused to do anything from her side of the family. I don’t blame him.” Jake shrugged and picked up the small astronaut, looking it over. He then looked up at the baseball banner and single candle.
Realization hit him and he dropped the toy. “It’s not for him…” Jake breathed out. “It’s for us.”
Steven slowly surfaced. “We died, didn’t we? We lost everything when we were so young. Don’t you think that we deserve to be remembered too? When we were one? One heart struggling to survive?”
“Yeah… We did die.” Marc bent and picked up the toy, holding it tightly.
“I read that an important part of today is to not just have pictures, but to tell stories. To talk about your memories and be happy for them.” Steven gave a small smile. “I don’t think I remember anything real. I just remember our room. Kinda like this.” He set the spaceman back down and lightly traced a finger on the Cubs banner. “I liked the colors. I don’t think I knew what they were for, but I liked the triangular shape and colors.”
Jake smiled and realized the blanket on the ofrenda was a kid’s race car blanket. “We had a race car bed. We used to roll over and kick the side every night, but we refused to admit we needed a bigger bed. We colored a paper plate like a steering wheel and kept it under the pillow.”
Marc nodded. “Yeah. There was a telescope. Thought we could be an explorer out there or something. Weren’t any good at remembering the names of the constellations, but we could find them.”
“I remember that.” Steven smiled. “We found the Little Dipper every night.”
“You know, we used to hate milk.” Marc made a face. “Or was that just me?”
“Milk is right disgusting.” Steven made the same face.
“You two are idiotas. Milk is wonderful! Prefer it in my coffee to creamer.” Jake huffed. “Do you remember the little candies Abuelita used to give us?”
“Red hots.” Marc groaned. “Basically candy coated cinnamon pain.”
“I keep a pack of them in my car.” Jake grinned.
“I have a memory of getting into a jar of jalapenos once.” Steven shuddered. “Was that real?”
“Oh god.” Marc chuckled. “Her homemade pickled Jalapenos. She hid them up on the top of the cabinet. DId we really eat half the jar?”
“We ate the whole jar. We puked.” Jake nodded.
Steven cringed. “Is that why I can’t look at a pickled jalapeno without gagging?”
“I’d do it again.” Jake smiled smugly. “Those were the best damn jalapenos I ever had.”
They laughed softly and watched the candle flicker for a moment, remembering hazy moments that weren’t quite clear to them. Piecing together moments that some only had bits to and correcting memories that were almost forgotten.
Marc turned to Layla after a moment. “Would you mind… Find us another candle?”
She blinked in surprise and moved to get one from the kitchen. “Who is this one for?”
“Randall.” Marc set it down next to the first one and carefully lit it. “I don’t have any pictures, but I think it’s time he was properly honored.”
“We never got to attend his funeral or Shiva.” Jake whispered. “She made sure of that.”
“Yeah.” Marc sighed. “I don’t know how much of him you remember… But I’d like to share…”
“I didn’t even know I had one.” Steven looked down sadly.
“I have some images…” Jake shook his head. “Not really connected with good things.” Memories that were locked away so completely that he made sure none of them had access to them.
“Let’s fix that.” Marc moved to sit down and beckoned Layla over. Once they were all settled, Marc took a slow breath.
“I had a younger brother named Randall. He was a pain. Always taking my toys and wanting to color. But any time I wanted to play pretend, he was right there with me.” Marc took Layla’s hand and held it tightly.
They talked for hours and ate the bread together, telling stories of what he could remember of his younger brother and growing up with him. It was the most Marc had ever let himself remember before. There were a surprising number of good memories.
Now and then, Jake would add in a detail Marc had missed. Something small that made the memory more real. Steven had even added in a detail he was surprised to remember, though he lacked the context.
By the end, they were exhausted, curling up on the couch with Layla and fading in and out of sleep.
“Thank you for sharing.” She whispered and kissed his forehead. “You should get some rest.”
“I know it isn’t really your culture or anything…” Steven nervously looked up at her. “The holiday does last all day and ends on the second… If you wanted to… You could tell us about your father. Marc says it’s okay if you share. Jake says it’s okay to put his photo up if you like.”
Layla thought about it for a moment then nodded. “It’s about honoring family, isn’t it? I think I would like that… Adding my memories to yours…”
Steven smiled and closed his eyes. “A path of Marigolds to lead us to the field of reeds. I think it would be lovely if we could all be there together next time…”
Marc dreamed. Gold and orange mixing in the silence. He wasn’t alone this time. The silence was broken by the sound of Jake humming softly, playing a guitar somewhere in the reeds. Next to him Steven looked around with wide eyes as he took in the colorful sky. He was buzzing and babbling about the history of the reeds.
Marc breathed a sigh of relief. He hated the silence. Smiling, he sat back and closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of family.
#Moon Knight#Moon Knight fic#Marc Spector#Steven Grant#Jake Lockley#Layla El Faouly#MoonKnightober2022#MKtober2022#Prompt word reeds#Dia de los muertos fic#I used to steal jalapenos from my abuelia#Ate the whole jar#She was not a small woman and laughed when we called her Abuelita cause she was six foot one#THIS IS THE LAST OF THE OCTOBER CHALLANGE#Didn't finish it but I planned to end on this one from the start so here we are#ta-dah
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20 questions for fic writers
Tagged by @aeghina
1. How many works do you have on A03?
14! I only started putting fics on AO3 in October. I used to write fics years ago, some for World of Warcraft and years before that, it was Sailormoon and Utena mostly.
2. What's your total A03 word count?
84,157 Over half of that is my currently-being-updated Fierce Deity Dad fic, haha
3. What fandoms do you write for?
Legend of Zelda stuff right now! AU and Linked Universe stuff mostly.
4. What are your top five fics by kudos?
1.https://archiveofourown.org/works/51754873 Father of Time
2.https://archiveofourown.org/works/51814240 Defeat or Deity
3.https://archiveofourown.org/works/51902788 The Unbearable Weight of Three Days
4.https://archiveofourown.org/works/52201303 You Want to Talk to Link, Right?
5.https://archiveofourown.org/works/50953486 Hey Link!
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
Always, every time. I love engaging with people.
6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
I don't really do angst that much? Maybe "The Silent Realm", a short fic from the point of view of Skyward Sword Link and how he feels about his trips into that space.
7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
This is harder because I usually end all of my fics on a positive note! My silly fics though, "Hey Link!" and "You Want to Talk to Link, Right?" are probably the best endings. "Father of Time" has pretty happy/comfort type endings for all chapters but it's not finished, as such.
8. Do you get hate on fics?
Not yet! Please don't take that as a challange.
9. Do you write smut?
Not at all, no. I don't mind a little romance and maybe some implied "behind closed doors" type of stuff but I don't write those sorts of things. Too awkward for it.
10. Do you write crossovers?
Oh, I used to! I haven't recently but I have ideas for some. They may or may not ever see the light of day.
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Not as far as I know
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
I don't think I'm popular enough for that, haha
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
Nope! Not yet.
14. What's your all-time favorite ship?
Oh gosh, for the Zelda fandom it's probably Link/Malon for OOT/MM and Link/Zelda for BotW/TotK
15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
I think I might finish all the ones I currently. Wait, now I have to check my files. Oh, I did start a "the chain is in Wild's era" fic that probably won't go anywhere so maybe that one.
16. What are your writing strengths?
I like to think that my sentences are clean and easy to understand. I do a lot of editing to make sure I don't sound repetitive. I also output *a lot* of words when I'm in the mood for writing. I think I did 5k one day because I just had to get everything out.
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
Keeping my tenses straight. Holy shit it drives me crazy
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?
I try to avoid this because I don't think I'm very good at language building and I don't know enough of any other language to feel like I'm going to do justice to the language in question.
19. First fandom you wrote for?
Sailormoon. haha, I'm such a neeeeerd
20. Favorite fic you've ever written?
"Father of Time", my currently running "Fierce Deity gets out of the mask and becomes a father to young Link" fic. I love writing it. I love reading it. It's everything I've wanted in a fic and it's just this huge part of my life right now.
I'm not sure who I would tag back but if anyone else wants to fill it out because they saw it on my dash, let me know so I can read it.
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Back in late 2019 i had never even heard of twitch, I was on minecraft youtube watching hermitcraft, i had just recently found this funny video series on youtube by Wilbur Soot where he challenged his viewers live. Back then I thought Technoblade was just another reoccurring viewer of Wil’s! Thats so absurd to think back on!
Early 2020 I watched tommys vids in youtube where he ran around being purposefully annoying twoard the dteam, speedrunning challange, yt vids became yt vods, and he would mention checking out twitch, so would wilbur. By July of 2020 I was following wilbur on twitch, by September I had followed tommy, October I had followed tubbo.
Soon enough I was following a whole new chain of creators on a new platform, invested in their story. I hadn’t yet really registered that their timezines matter much since i was accustomed ti watching vods. I *STILL* regret having missed the pog2020 vs swag2020 election because of this! I still regret that!! God!
November 16th came and went, I was enamored with all the art that came out because of it, then Wolf the witch, then known as “channel without a name” had uploaded their animation of the 16th in the 20th. I was there, in that live chat, and after the premiere, I had made friends. I didnt think that would last, but here i am, almost two years later, and most of the “premier gang” members are still active we still talk regularly.
We watched origins together and fell in love with the vod, learned how to install mods and use fabrics launcher! I installed minecraft java edition fir the first time ever because of this, we played minecraft together, we branched out and screenshared to eachother when one would play any other game.
We had a channel specifically for when some damned streamer would go live to scream about it and summarize the premise to each other if we had missed it. By the time Tales Of the SMP rolled around we would all sit in vc together and watch as someone screen shared.
We’ve had three “seasons” of our origins smp, with shops snd community houses. I remember building water tunnels for our resident merling, and my friend would make awnings for me since i was an enderian and couldnt leave the house when it rained. We pulled pranks on eachother, my whole wheat farm was replaced with carrots, me replaced a friends house with jack-o-lanters and acacia wood!
I found other common interests with friends, we found we coult talk about other things other than minecraft incredibly easily, we made comics together, played new games together, suggested music together, celebrated together, we grieved the death of a fucking music bot together! I still miss groovy, we had so many late night ham sessions with groovy.
We still talk about c!tommy, c!tubbo, a friend makes animations about the eggpire and recently got new egg lore. It feels good after havjng seen and heard them hold on to it for so long, and thats what we’ve all done. Holding on, i guess.
I really have had so much fun, playing with my art style along these two years, creating little ficlets for my friends about characters i adore, going insane about new animations from the community. Ive had a personal au about clingyduo for well over a year now, maybe even two years? No idea, but god its been so fun, fullfilling even.
My vocabulary has deffo been changed, example A is right there, “deffo” was ages ago and hasn’t left me since. I dint think dsmp is going to leave me even if i stop interacting with it (which i don’t think I will just yet)
I love all the results I’ve personally gained from being a part of this.
Thank you so much to the streamers, the artists, the musicians, *some* of the clips channels, everyone who wrote character analysis, wrote fics, or just screamed in twitch chat or posted in the youtube comment section or live tweeted/ live blogged any moment they loved.
Thank you to the fanbase, more than anything, for making this place so loved.
#dsmp#tommyinnit#tubbo#wilbur#tales of the smp#totsmp#wolfythewitch#theres so much more i could list but ill be here forever#and i think thats for my friends and i to reminice privately anyways#i just wanted to throw this thank you into the void of the internet#origins smp#mcyt#dream smp
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Trivia Tuesday
I was tagged by @jedimordsith to give a behind the scenes glimpse on one of my fics. With Halloween only a month away I’ll talk about The Void
This story was my first attempt at horror, my first attempt at flushing out a minor, almost unknown Star Wars Legends character, my first attempt at creating a rich, diverse set of OC supporting characters with female-centric leads, and my first attempt at actually completing something posted that wasn’t finished. (This last has been a major hurdle for me.) And was only the second time I’d reached out of my introvert shell to ask the lovely @jedimordsith for help in getting it done. To say this story was a challenge is an understatement.
I decided to go with the “unseen” monster that stalks the crew of the Starry Ice because I am always more afraid of what you can’t see then what you can. Everyone rags on the M. Night Shyamalan movie Signs, but the end was intense! Alien is another movie where you almost never see the monster and Event Horizon were it's more psychological than physical were both major influencers.
I also wanted to incorporate different ways the characters react to this danger. You have Force Sensitive Mara Jade who can’t seem to process what her senses are telling her. My OC Togruta Asori Holgor is getting different stimuli through her montrals causing an overload in her ability to reason. And Captain Shirlee Faughn who is just trying to stay calm and keep her crew from dying around her. This volatile mix then creates a secondary horror within.
I love this story a ridiculous amount, not only for the story itself but also as a gateway to my entrance to my fabulous SW Writers Group. And this is probably my second favorite story I’ve ever written. Stay tuned for October when my most favorite thing I’ve ever written gets published for the 2019 Halloween Challange: Apocolypse Yavin
If you like to share, I’ll tag @jadelotusflower ,@arielsojourner, and @teagrl if you're around.
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