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spicywhumper · 2 months

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febuwhump 2024: day 22. "you weren't meant to be here" + @femslash-february bingo 2024 (dark edition): betrayal

series: untiles / rating: teen and up audiences

trigger/content warning: minor character death, implied past child abuse.

Suffice to say, I do not like being hundreds of kilometers away from solid ground. As safe as the station is, arguably safer than the ground, it’ll never be somewhere I want to be. But if Segal told to be here, I’ll be here, loosing my job is even more unpleasant than spending time on floating in a metal box in space.

At least, Fessender is here (she gets way too annoying if I date call her by her first name in any minimally professional setting). Which means that she’ll distract me by making me feel stupid with her endless rambling about whatever side project she’s working on.

“Davidson!” I hoped he wouldn’t be on her lab, Diana – I refuse to mentally refer to her as “Fessender” all the time – blinks at me like she didn’t expect me to be here. “Finally, took you long enough.”

“Well, sir, I can’t take a cab here,” he rolls his eyes, aware that I did take the first ship after he ordered me to come up here. “Why am I needed here?”

“Remember agent Doyle?” I nod. “She’s giving a presentation,” he points at Diana. “She’s going to need help with whatever they’re showing.”

“I mentioned a foot soldier,” she’s frowning at him, she sounds so soft and gentle that it’s almost easy to not notice that she’s upset.

“Pretty sure Davidson is more than capable to do whatever you need.”

She nods: “I understand.”

“Good!” He beans, I’m not sure how I got myself a ray of sunshine as my boss. He nods at her, that’s when he’d grab your shoulder and give you a nice and friendly squeeze. She froze the one time he did it, so he never tried again. “I’ll be going now, she can explain whatever’s going on.”

Even with how he doesn’t step too closer to her personal space, Diana only relaxes when he’s out of the room. We don’t talk about it, we don’t need to talk about it, I’ve met her parents.

“So…”

“You weren’t meant to be here.”

“And I thought you liked me,” I fall on the chair I always use, she’s still frowning, Cute. “What Doyle and You are doing?”

“Weapon’s presentation.”

“What am I supposed to do then?”

“Not be there. It’s a weapon for footsoldiers.”

“That doesn’t make much sense, babe.”

“Don’t- you’re not supposed to use pet names here.”

“And?” She gestures between us. “You know you’re supposed to stay quiet about it.”

“I know, I know, sorry. But really, can’t I help?”

“I guess I don’t have a choice, do I?” She sighs, defeated, and takes all my will power to not lean over the desk and kiss her all over her stupid cute face. “Go mingle around, I’ll check over the project with Doyle.”

“I know you, it’s already safe.”

“Yeah, I’d like to be double sure.”

That’s her way to all but kick me off her lab, she’s to nice to actually kick me out.

So I do go and mingle. As much as I might dislike staying up here, the regular agents are quite the pleasant people to be around. Half of them think Diana is the best person around, which makes them quite the approved people by me.

After a few hours of roaming the stupidly large space station, making small talk, one of the newer agents finds me and takes me to Diana’s lab.

Part of me really, really doesn’t like the way Doyle stands closer than every other person – except me. The rest of me isn’t pathetic and jealous and does like that she’s comfortable around someone else. Doyle’s sitting on the chair, reading something on the monitor in front of her, as Diana’s leaning over her shoulder and, I assume, commenting on what Doyle’s reading.

That’s her mentor, don’t be jealous. I clear my throat, Diana doesn’t jerk away like she probably would if there was something else going on in. Doyle looks up, acknowledges me and is back to what she has been reading.

“Everything alright?”

“Yes, yes,” Diana’s the normal amount of nervous she gets before any event where she has to interact with more than two people at once. She looks like she needs a hug – ok, she always looks like she needs a hug.

“What do you need me to do?”

“You’ll destroy a couple of dummies,” she nudges Doyle. “We’ll be late.” The agent nods and gets up. “Follow me.”

We do.

The room is packed with agents, from foot soldiers to high ranking agent, including Segal. He likes to sit among the other officials despite being the director. It’s an arena, it feels almost suffocating to be in the middle of it, dummies around me and Diana fussing over me and the weapon. It doesn’t look any different from regular shotguns, it’s incredibly heavier, like the other laser and light-based ones she designed before. That’s why they’re for guards that stay on one spot, snipers and such. More fitting me than foot soldiers.

The clock turns three in the afternoon, the arena’s light turn off.

What the fu- I hold the gun tighter, even if I’m not sure of its destruction power. The lights come back, dim and weak. Then there’s smoke. So. Much. Smoke. Thick, a sickening shade of green, smells foul, almost like rotting corpses. It seems to come from the ventilation system.

“Put the gun down,” the cold barrel of one presses against the back of my neck, Doyle’s voice is muffled. I obey on instinct.

People are coughing, it sounds wet and sick. Most of the smoke hover on the seats, the panicked agents are just shapes amidst the poisonous fog.

“What have you- what are you doing?” It’s hard to ask before I’m coughing. “Agent-”

“My job,” she grabs my shoulder to make me turn, the pain fills my chest and down my torso like liquid fire. She’s wearing a mask, I’ve seen Diana with one of those. Diana-

“What?”

“My job. The oh so called terrorists you’ve been fighting against,” her eyes are bright, I can almost see the twisted smirk on her. “The people that take in the agents harmed by your righteous agency. We’re weapons without a handler, you can say.”

There’s blood on my mouth: “I-” my knees hurt when they hit the metal floor.

“You weren’t meant to be here,” that’s not Doyle, I’m distracted by the pain just enough to not feel a second person approaching until the mask’ s pressed against my face. I grab the arm holding it in a desperate attempt to make it not go away. “I asked for a foot soldier.”

“Don’t whine, you did have an extra mask.”

Doyle’s the least important person on the room when Diana’s pressing the mask against my face, one on hers and her eyes shines in a shade of blue that looks haunting. Her other hand’s adjusting it on the back of my head.

“Diana…”

“I’m sorry,” all I can do is stare at her.

She looks apologetic, genuine, but also.. wrong.

“What have you done?”

“My job.”

#febuwhump 2024 #femslash feb bingo #whump #whump blog #whump community #whumpblr #lady whump

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riversofmars · 1 year

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Femslash February is over, so here we are, back to my magnum opus!

Chapter 21: Momentum

In every story there comes a shift in momentum as you prepare for the final showdown, the big finale, the climax that everything has been building towards. It can be subtle or it can be abrupt. Something had changed in my life as the curtain rose on what you might think of as the final act of this story. The change had been earth shattering for me. I spent the night huddled close to Helen, resting in each other’s arms and it was the most wonderful sort of change, the fulfilment of what I had longed for for so long. It was a rest well deserved and much needed, as the momentum was about to shift.

---

I pushed myself up on my elbows to the sound of the doorbell of my quarters. At first I couldn’t place the sound and I looked around confused. I had been lying on my bed reading when the beeping sound had broken my concentration. It was late and no-one ever took the time to visit us in our quarters but there was a first for everything. The door slid open revealing one of the lead scientists.

“Med-tech Chenka?” He greeted me with a thin smile and stepped inside without waiting to be asked in.

“Yes?” I sat up properly and put the tablet down to give him my full attention.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” he scanned my room and I got to my feet.

“No, of course not. How can I help?” I tried not to be too self conscious about the mess. Despite having little I called my own, I still managed to create a chaotic state wherever I went. It’s part of my charm though perhaps not entirely helpful when dealing with the people that were in charge of the limited future I had.

“I was pleased to see you finally had the opportunity to take your medical,” he said at last when he returned his attention to me and my heart jumped into my throat. Had they noticed I had doctored the results? Was there something wrong? Why else would he be visiting me in private without anyone to witness? Surely, if they were good news, they could have waited till morning. “That concludes all necessary tests and the vetting process. I’m happy to say, we are good to go,” he flashed a brief smile and I was almost more shocked by the ease with which he put the matter off, than I would have been had there been an issue.

“Oh that’s great. Glad to hear the results were satisfactory,” I stuttered and quickly recovered to put on a smile as if there had never been any doubt I would pass with flying colours.

“Yes, indeed, so were we,” she gave back. Usually, I’m very good at reading people but I couldn’t get a measure on him at all; whether he truly believed everything was in order or if he suspected something.

“So what is the time-line from here?” I asked to fill the silence as he made no attempts at leaving.

“There are a few weeks of preparation yet but I suggest you get well acquainted with the idea of setting off into a distant future,” he answered and I nodded.

“Wonderful.”

“There is something else,” he revealed after another moment of silence that I could sense growing heavier. Here came the catch I was dreading.

“Right…” I tried not to fidget. When I’m anxious I fiddle with things, I wring my hands and sometimes bite my nails, all tell tale signs that I was hoping to avoid. They would surely give away that I had something to hide. But why would he said I had passed the tests if-

“We have received confirmation of your employment history,” he went on and I nodded.

“Okay…”

“You never mentioned you had a sister,” he concluded and I blinked. While I hadn’t known what to expect, that was certainly not it. They must have gone as far back as Kaldor in their research.

“Tula? How do you- I mean- It never seemed important. Besides, we haven’t been in contact, I have no idea what she’s up to these days…” I really didn’t and I felt a sting of guilt at the truthful admission. You see, my relationship to my sister had always been somewhat strained, particularly during the time of our father’s illness and after his death. It was a rift that at the time I didn’t think would ever heal. It has now, years later after I returned to Kaldor with the Doctor and spent a whole year with her. But way back then, Tula was nothing but a distant memory and that very fact was painful to admit to.

“Working for the Company on Kaldor,” he added almost pleasantly and I nodded once more.

“Of course she is.” Tula had taken up work for the Company straight out of university, so it wasn’t much of a surprise, though I imagined she would be in a far more senior role these days. She had, after all, always been ambitious and head-strong. In some ways we were far more alike than I liked to admit and it had resulted in many disagreements.

“She seemed pleased to hear you were well. We have a message from her for you if you are interested-” He reached into his lab coat and produced a small data chip that he held out to me. It was a most surprising turn of events. Despite the years of not talking and the fights we’d had before that, I reached for the chip eagerly.

“I- Yes. Yes, that would be-” Looking back I think it had something to do with the fact that I was taking stock of my life at that point as I prepared to launch into the unknown for my final adventure. Tula was a significant part of my past. My only living family. It almost seemed poetic that close to the end. “Thank you.”

“It’s no matter. There was a lot of interesting content in the data package,” he observed as I turned the chip between my fingers in wonder. “Such as a warrant for your arrest on charges of collaboration with the Daleks.”

I nearly dropped the chip as my eyes shot up to him. My heart stalled.

“I- I can explain.” I stuttered, barely recovering from the whiplash of the shocking revelation and the utter casualness with which he presented me with his findings. My mind was starting to race. There was that catch at last. But how was I to prove my version of events over what my actions had been misconstrued as? I had no proof. I had no way of-

“We have, of course, taken steps to assure the authorities that we have no knowledge of your whereabouts and that you can’t be traced here,” he carried on before I could launch into a defence of myself.

“You- You have?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. This was not how I had imagined such a conversation might go, so I decided to try and calm myself and see where this was going.

“Given your suitability for this mission and how far the process has already advanced, we’re not prepared to lose you,” he explained and slowly the vice grip of panic eased around my chest.

“I- I don’t know what to say.” I really didn’t.

“Thank you would be a start,” he prompted and I nodded, perplexed.

“Thank you…” I stared at him. “So you don’t… care?”

“That you’re a traitor to your race?” He observed bluntly and the word made my flinch. “Is it going to impede on your ability to do your job?”

“No, of course not,” I interjected quickly but wanted to explain myself: “Besides, I wasn’t-” I wanted to set the record straight but there was no opportunity.

“Then we shouldn’t have a problem,” he carried on, evidently not caring to hear any more on the matter. “We also didn’t tell your sister, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Thank you…” I breathed and he smiled:

“Welcome to the crew, Med-tech Chenka.” And with that he departed, leaving me in a state of shock.

I released a sigh of relief when I was alone once more. That had been an incredibly close call and my heart continued to pound in my chest for some time after until I was finally able to relax. I couldn’t believe I had gotten away with swindling the results of the medical and I wondered - given the morally flexible approach they had taken regarding my charges - whether I could have been honest about my condition and still been accepted. They seemed to really want me on this mission.

The fact that they had simply brushed over my chequered past without concern if it was true or not, did leave me wondering about the motivations and morals guiding the Institute, but in the end I decided that it didn’t matter. I wasn’t here to do their bidding or further their agenda. They would have precious little influence on us once we were in the depth of space. Even if they intended to use me and the mission for some nefarious reason, it almost didn’t matter, as I was using them too for my own agenda.

My eyes fell onto the data chip in my hand. A message from Tula. I had spent precious little time thinking about my sister and the guilt settled deep in my gut, making me feel nauseous. We hadn’t been close for years, but I could have spared her a thought every now and then… At least now she knew where I was and that was worth a lot. It meant she wouldn’t be left wondering what had happened to me. Maybe I could record a message and send it before we departed, say my goodbyes, tie up the loose ends… I had some time to consider my options, for the time being I was more concerned with listening to Tula’s message, so I pushed the chip into the tablet that I had been reading one and hit play.

“Hello, Liv. Nice to hear you’re still out there somewhere and in work, so that’s a plus- Sorry, that was uncalled for, it’s just- It’s been a while. I hope you’re well. I didn’t get much information on what it is you’re actually doing, but if they are gathering that much background that they reached out to me, it might be something exciting and significant, so well done you. Maybe, once you’re done with whatever it is you’re doing… maybe you could take a trip to Kaldor some time. It would be nice to see you… Anyway, while I have the opportunity, I just wanted to say good luck.”

——

When I woke up, I was disoriented. I knew I was not in the frontier colonies, despite my mind conjuring up the image of the room I used to stay in at ISI. It had been a dream and surprisingly, not a terrible one. The nightmares had kept their distance and the reason for it lay right beside me, sleeping soundly still. Helen was lying on her side, she was facing away from me but had her fingers curled around mine, pulling my arm around herself like a protective barrier. She was holding it close, having dragged my whole body along, I had moved to lie behind her, matching my body to the soft curve of hers. I felt her chest rise and fall slowly as I raised my head a little to look at her. She seemed content and peaceful and it made my heart soar.

I nuzzled into her neck, her soft hair tickling my face and I smiled. I inhaled deeply, savouring the moment and I couldn’t resist the temptation of pressing my lips to her neck. Helen gave a soft drowsy sigh and I smiled against her skin. I kissed her there again and trailed more kisses down her neck and to her shoulder, any bit of exposed skin I could find. I was fully prepared for Helen to scold and stop me but she hadn’t complained yet and I wasn’t going to waste the opportunity.

“That’s a nice way to wake up…“ Helen hummed at last and I chuckled softly.

“For me too,“ I admitted and tugged my arm back, rolling her over to lie on her back. She giggled and it was the most heartwarming sound.

“Good morning, Liv.“ She looked up to me with a smile as I hovered over her.

“Good morning, Helen.“ I leaned down and kissed her.

For the moment, all our worries were forgotten.

“How did you sleep?” She asked, brushing my hair back that continued to fall into my face.

“Better than I have in a long time,” I confessed entirely truthfully. “How about you?”

“Me too,” she answered softly and her hand found the base of my neck, resting there comfortably. “I was so… I hardly slept while we were… you know. When I kept you at arms length…” She took a deep breath. “I was so worried for our future…”

“And now?” I enquired gently. I didn’t want to push her too hard but I wanted to take advantage of her opening up to me. It was a most intimate, wonderful feeling to finally be allowed behind the walls she had put up between us and that to some extent always had existed, as she had kept her heart well guarded.

“Now I’m worried for the future in a different way,” she confessed with something of a helpless smile. “But… being with you just… I suppose you have a calming influence.”

“Be sure to tell that to the Doctor,” I joked. “That’s something that’s never been said about me before.”

“Liv…” she brushed my hair back and hesitated for a moment, then asked: “You will be careful, won’t you? You won’t-”

“No,” I shook my head quickly and firmly. “There is no way I’m giving up on this.” And I meant that. I longed to bury my fears and the dread I felt about my potential death deep down and so I kissed her again, hoping to forget the world and all my worries. I can’t speak to Helen’s thought process or intentions, but I imagine she might have been longing to do much the same, as she pulled me close and returned my kiss just as eagerly.

---

“Good morning, you two lovebirds,” River greeted us when we returned to the main area of operations. Eventually, guilt and a sense of responsibility had won out and made us get up, otherwise we’d likely have stayed in our little bubble of bliss all day. River’s words, however, quickly brought us back to reality as she met us halfway to the office where the Doctors were likely making plans.

“River!” I hissed a warning at her but she didn’t seem bothered. I suppose the legendary River Song is not so easily intimidated, she’d faced down far worse than me.

“Oh don’t be precious Liv,” she tutted and it seemed she might have been on her way to come and find us, as she fell into step with us instead of carrying on.

“We’re not ready for people to know yet,” I continued while Helen remained silent, though her pinked cheeks indicated she was paying attention.

“Then you might want to try to look a little less smitten with each other,” the professor hummed, obviously amused and I pushed my hands into my pockets to resist the ever-present urge to reach for Helen’s hand. “You got here just at the right time,” she revealed and ushered us into the office.

“How’s things progressing? Have we got a plan?” Helen queried and we looked around the room. I couldn’t help but wonder if any of them had had any sleep at all. The Doctor’s certainly hadn’t, and I doubted Kate and Osgood had either. They hardly seemed to have moved from when we had left them the previous night.

“We have indeed,” the Doctor announced, brimming with excitement. It was nice to see enthusiasm returning to his eyes. It gave me hope too and we eagerly awaited his answer: “We will break through the bubble!”

“Right… and something more concrete than that?” I asked drily. I had expected more.

“It’s the only way to truly stop the Daleks from repeating this time loop. We have to step out of it,” he continued, visibly displeased by our lack of applause. The Doctor did so enjoy an adoring audience.

“And how do you suggest we do that,” I continued, trying my best not to sound too sarcastic. I had limited success.

“Simple,” the other Doctor interjected. “We fly.”

“Of course,” I groaned and the thin smile Helen offered was the polite equivalent to my reaction. If this was all they had come up with in the night, we were in big trouble indeed.

“All we need is a ship. I managed to record the frequency the shield is operating on, remember?” The future Doctor elaborated, finally giving the idea some substance. “If we are able to equip a ship accordingly, we would be able to phase through it. So long as we were undetected.”

“What sort of ship? A plane won’t do it. We’d need a spaceship,” Helen observed thoughtfully and I wholeheartedly agreed:

“In 2020? That’s gonna be a tall order. It would need to be something more versatile than a shuttle.”

“Well, then I suppose it’s lucky UNIT deal in technology far in advance of our time,” Kate interjected with a smile. They had obviously discussed the ins and outs of this plan in our absence.

“You could hardly keep a skimmer down here,” I commented but my curiosity was piqued.

“No… but we have other hiding places,” Osgood revealed with a proud smile.

“That we can get to without the Daleks noticing?” I pushed on.

“And that haven’t been destroyed?” Helen added. Despite the serious situation, I gave a little smile, remarking on how often we were completely in tune with each other, following the same thought patterns and reaching the same conclusions. It was a lovely reminder of how perfectly matched we were.

“We can’t be sure-” Kate conceded but our Doctor interrupted:

“Either way, we have to try. It’s our best-”

“If not our only option,” his future self finished his sentence.

“And then what?” I asked, assuming for a moment we would in fact manage to get our hands on a suitable ship. “We just… fly at them?” I tried to imagine how things might come together but every scenario just concluded the same way: “Surely that’s a surefire way of making them flip the switch or just blow us out of the sky.”

“We will have to create a diversion of course,” the blonde Doctor explained and the whole thing was beginning to sound awfully familiar. It was our Doctor that confirmed what I was suspecting:

“We got pretty far that last time,“ he supplied. “Setting up a distraction to allow us to get to the ship undetected. It’s a good plan.“ He gave me a wry smile as if he could read my mind.

“It’s also the closest they got to winning,” River stepped in, having followed the conversation silently until then. I had almost forgotten she had watched us go about this repetitive exercise again and again. “That’s the trouble. If it was just a matter of shooting their ship out of the sky or defeating their troops… we need to get in there before they can flip the switch.”

“There must be another way,“ Helen spoke up, visibly displeased and she turned to me: “You died that time…“

“I’m really not very keen to go through that one…” I agreed but it seemed the others had already discussed this matter:

“You will be elsewhere,” River interjected. “You will fly the ship.“

“I don’t want to be split up, I-” I immediately protested. I wanted to grab Helen’s hand but didn’t given the fact that all eyes were on me. As terrifying as it would be to follow the same plan that had brought my death last time around, I wanted to be wherever Helen was.

“It’s your best chance. I will be with you and one of the Doctors…” River’s voice softened, it wasn’t unlike the time she had found me in my bedroom after I had been witness to my own demise. She had a compassionate side beyond the loud personality, reserved for these moments, and it was effective, I had to give her that. I lowered my head as I understood what she was saying, regardless of whether I liked it or not.

“And we can utilise your arrival for the distraction,” the blonde Doctor jumped in, continuing to outline the plan they had agreed upon. I got the sense we wouldn’t have a say in the matter. “We won’t be able to fly the TARDIS, the only reason it’s even able to come and go is before it happened before the cordon went up. But we will need it regardless.”

“What for?” I asked as I wanted to understand at the very least.

“To destabilise the field. Modifications to the shuttle won’t be enough,” our Doctor explained patiently.

“This plan is getting more unrealistic with every moment…” I huffed, uneasy. It was a typical Doctor plan. Utterly ridiculous and still, somehow, our best option.

“But we do have the best possible odds, remember?” River gave me a wink of reassurance and that was something I couldn’t argue with. If it was ever going to work…

“I suppose so…”

“Will our memories change?” Helen interjected suddenly and the Doctor frowned:

“What?”

“If we go to meet ourselves, find the TARDIS during our arrival… will our memories change if we don’t see Liv die?” She elaborated and admittedly, that was something I hadn’t even considered. By meeting ourselves again, under different circumstances, we would be opening up a whole other can of worms.

“How does that even work? We remember what we saw…“ I agreed. “If this is the God knows which attempt… how come…“

“Your memory might simply change,“ the future Doctor gave a nonchalant shrug that did nothing to reassure me.

“I wouldn’t mind forgetting about that…” Helen hummed and I longed to reach out for her. A flash of pain crossed her face at the painful memory. I couldn’t imagine how she must have felt in that moment, now that I knew that even then, she had felt for me more deeply than she’d ever led on.

“So we enlist our past selves to help and utilise their TARDIS?” I sought to move the conversation along and spare her dwelling on things we couldn’t change now.

“To be honest, we don’t know what will happen to your memories when that happens. This is the first time we’re trying it like that. Last time was the first time you arrived because it was only then that I’d given you the notebook,” River interjected and what had previously seemed logical and straightforward became a jumble.

“My head is starting to hurt,” I groaned and Helen frowned:

“It makes sense… kind of…”

“There is no point in worrying about that now. We will address one problem at a time and see how we go, that’s all we can do,” the blonde Doctor clapped her hands together and her younger self added:

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to agree. One thing we have to be aware of, however, is that there might be severe temporal fallout from this,” he warned.

“We will be,” Osgood spoke up, taking notes on her tablet. “But for now we have to get our timings right. We need to work out when that happens in relation to when we are now.” She looked around the room for answers, evidently eager to map things out in the greatest detail possible.

“I’ll be able to help with that,” River replied and walked over to join the UNIT scientist with her projections. Drawing on the notebook she had given me and notes retrieved from her own diary, she worked things out.

“How much time have we got?” I asked impatiently as I suddenly became aware of one terrifying truth: This might very well be the day and time I die. There would be no do-overs this time around. We only had the one shot now that River was with us and if something went wrong…

“A little under eight hours,” the professor answered at last and my blood ran cold. That was so much sooner than I had expected. For a moment, it felt as if time slowed down and I became oddly detached from myself. As I was trying to identify the things I was feeling, my eyes travelled around the room, looking to my friends for an indication on how I should be behaving or feeling. The Doctors were mirror images of each other of squared jaws and determined, yet bitter expressions. Kate looked insecure, faltering - though only for a split second - in her carefully curated image of strength, as she too seemed to find things moving along too quickly. River’s features had softened with something like compassion or pity as her eyes found mine and I looked further as I couldn’t face her. Osgood’s expression turned to a frown of concentration, trying to detach the data from its implications and Helen? Well… Helen went very pale indeed, much like myself.

I felt a sort of tingle in my limbs and a wave of cold panic that crept up my back. It was the sort of paralysing panic you felt when you truly took a moment to imagine death. Not just death in general but your own. The thought of everything simply ending and that terrible feeling of not knowing what came after - if anything. I had faced the prospect of my own death before, as you well know by now, but never have I had so much to live for.

“That’s hardly any time at all,” Helen whispered, her voice weak and I simply knew she had come to similar conclusions as I had.

“Just enough time to get organised,” Kate regained her air of leadership and control of the situation.

“Liv, I don’t want to split up,” Helen quickly turned to me and grabbed hold of my arm. I wasn’t quite able to respond yet, I simply turned to face her and my heart dropped at the look of fear in her eyes.

“Believe me, it’s the best way,” our Doctor tried to interject but it was River that succeeded in interrupting.

“Helen, can I talk to you for a minute?” She placed her hands on her shoulders, drawing her attention.

“I-” Helen looked around to her confused, then back to me. She appeared helpless which was just how I felt. It was probably a good thing. River would be able to put her at ease much better than I would in my panicking state. I could hardly keep myself together, how was I to be of any help to Helen? I needed air. I needed a moment just to myself to process what was happening.

“Go on. Not going anywhere yet,” I encouraged Helen as calmly as I could, I even managed a small smile and a nod. “I just… I’m gonna need a minute anyway… ”

“Of course,” River answered where Helen couldn’t.

“I will be right back…” I told them and took my leave.

---

I don’t know what I had expected, how we would solve the problem with the Daleks. Somehow, I had still held on to the hope the Doctors would come up with a weird and wonderful idea, a genius solution that would leave us all in awe and safe and sound in the long run. I had not expected to have to face the very scenario that I had watched play out in terrifying and heartbreaking detail before.

I didn’t go far. I just needed a moment away from the people that knew what the future might well have in store for me. I ran my hands through my hair and took a deep breath as slowly, the feeling of control returned.

I was in control of the future, I told myself.

I had been in far worse situations.

I had faced death before and come out on top every time.

You think we’re doing something special? Surviving whatever life has thrown at you so far is not a skill. It’s called ‘still being alive’. Everyone you’ve ever met has done it by definition. The Doctor’s defeatist words rung in my ears. There is always a way out until there isn’t. Maybe this was that time… I shook my head free of the memory, taking conciliation in the fact that even then, I had been right and we had survived.

I try and try again and then, I keep trying until there is nothing left. This couldn’t be that time that I failed. Not when Helen and I had gotten so far… But what if it was? What was there left to do before the end?

I caught sight of the hospital wing and started walking. If I only had eight hours left - regardless of whether we were successful or not and whether I would survive - there were things I had to do.

“Liv?” Tania looked up, evidently surprised to see me as I made my way over.

“How are you doing? How’s the leg,” I asked and the distraction did wonders to pull me away from the edge of breaking under my mental burden.

“Seen better days,” she huffed, gesturing towards her leg and I took a quick peek under the dressing, pleased with how the wound was looking. “I take it I can’t come with you?” She questioned when I straightened up again. “Assuming you will be doing something about the Daleks soon?” She cast a glance past me to the office.

“No. Sorry,” I shook my head and gave her an apologetic smile. “You’ll just have to place your trust in us, hard as that might be.”

“Not as hard as you might think,” she gave back rather kindly, an instant reminder of why I’d felt I needed to speak to her. She was such a kind, generous person and there were things I had to say, things she deserved to hear, so I could put the matter to rest and make my peace.

“Tania… there’s something… I just… I wanted to apologise for how things played out,” I said and lowered my eyes. I truly was sorry. Regardless of how much she had insisted that she hoped Helen and I would work things out, she would be hurt by it. It was human.

“Oh, I see…” She must have taken my meaning from my very demeanour. She sounded stung and I couldn’t blame her.

“It’s not- It’s just-” I wanted to explain but I couldn’t find the right words. My thoughts were still a jumble. I should have prepared something in my mind before marching over, but time was short in every sense of the word, so I blanked. Thankfully, Tania didn’t seem to need explanations:

“It’s fine, Liv, honestly. Otherwise I wouldn’t have said the things I did. I told Helen much the same,” she said after a moment of heavy silence.

“I see…” I mumbled.

“See, there was a reason why I asked what your relationship was. Whether I would be treading on any toes….” She hummed and slowly, her apprehension seemed to ease.

“Yeah… still… I’m sorry…” I told her honestly and she smiled.

“Apology accepted.”

“I think we’ve worked things out. Helen and I…” I said, making sure she really did know what I was apologising for.

“I believe it was about time,” she offered kindly. “Don’t worry. We’re fine.”

“Thank you. I’m glad,” I smiled and reached for her hand with a squeeze of gratitude. She nodded in acknowledgement, then smirked:

“Besides… Martha’s bedside manner is so much nicer than yours.” And just like that, the heaviness of the situation dispersed.

“Martha’s bedside manner?” I gaped, shocked for a moment, then laughed: “I see how it is!”

“Well, you know, a girl can dream,” Tania hummed playfully, casting a glance over to the medic who was seeing to a patient on the other side of the room.

“Well by all means, dream away. If things go well, we won’t be crammed down here much longer and free to go about our lives once more,” I stated, hoping I wasn’t promising too much. “I best be off.” As relieved as I was to have put things right with Tania, there was somewhere else I wanted to be now.

“Good luck, Liv,” she said with an encouraging smile.

“You too,” I winked at her, jerking my head towards Martha who was just scribbling some notes on a chart and she laughed.

When I made my way back to the office and spotted River still speaking to Helen. She had taken her outside, out of earshot of the others and I slowed my steps. I didn’t want to impose, so I waited and watched from a distance. Helen was evidently distraught and River seemed to be doing her best to calm and reassure her.

Dread was beginning to settle in my gut once more at sight of the genuine fear on Helen’s beautiful face. Fear for me. Fear of what was to come. And I could feel it too. Fear was creeping up my back again, I tensed up and struggled under the task of breathing. I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing down the panic, I didn’t have time for it. Eight hours and I might be dead. Eight hours was all I could be sure of. That was no time at all. And so I went to interrupt them.

#Fanfiction #A Numbers Game #liv/helen #liv chenka #helen sinclair #river song #eighth doctor #thirteenth doctor #tania bell #kate stewart #action/adventure #whump #femslash #flashbacks #long fic #doctor who #dw fanfic #big finish

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thegirl20 · 3 years

Text

Witcher Femslash February - Chaos

Way back in January, @xxtorchxx got in touch with me to see if I would like to write a fic about an amazing manip she’d created. Of course I said yes and then immediately got writers’ block.

Working my way through @bamf-jaskier‘s list of femslash february ficlets has been my attempt at making myself write again so that I could fulfil my promise.

So it only feels fitting that the final one should be the fic I should have written in January. 😊

Here’s the pic:

And the fic is below the cut.

Once upon a time, it would have been unthinkable for Tissaia to be sitting in Yennefer's house, sipping wine and laughing over stories about the mishaps of shared acquaintances. It would have been absurd for them to be in each other's company without the situation deteriorating into a battle of words; a war of nerves.

But these days, it's not unusual at all.

Everything changed at Sodden Hill. The battle was hard won, and left both of them injured. It was during the aftermath that they started to grow closer. Tissaia's recovery had been long and beleaguered with setbacks. The healers had barely begun to rid her body of dimeritium when infection took hold and had her teetering between life and death once more.

Yennefer had been by her side as soon as she was allowed out of bed, her own injuries still healing. 'Allowed' being subjective, of course. The healers grew tired of chasing her back to her own room soon enough and just let her stay as Tissaia went through her own battle. Even if she couldn't fight alongside her, this time, Yennefer was determined that she would not be alone. She'd held her hand through interminable nights, counting her breaths, holding her own when it seemed the next one wasn't coming fast enough. She'd talked to her through her delirium, smiling through tears at the absurdities spilling from the usually sensible lips.

She had finally turned a corner when a particularly awful fever finally broke one night. She turned to Yennefer with eyes clearer than she'd seen them since the morning of the battle, and smiled. And Yennefer's heart found its rhythm once more.

Even once it was certain that Tissaia would recover, Yennefer never strayed far from Aretuza for a long time. It was many weeks after her own healing was complete that she finally struck out again, into the world. But she made sure to visit often, and urged Tissaia to do the same.

That is why it's not a surprise when Tissaia shows up at the house Yennefer keeps in Velen, with a very fine bottle of wine from Aretuza's cellar and a smile.

"I thought we could enjoy it in your garden," Tissaia says, once Yennefer has picked up a couple of glasses. "I'm not sure we'll keep this warmth for much longer."

"An excellent idea," Yennefer says, gesturing for Tissaia to walk in front of her out into the late summer evening.

They sit at the small table set on a terrace and Yennefer pours the wine. Tissaia picks up her glass and swirls the russet liquid around, inhaling its scent before taking a sip. She hums her approval.

"I knew this would be a good one."

Taking her own sip, Yennefer agrees. "It is quite exquisite."

She settles further into her chair and watches as Tissaia lifts her face to the sun, closing her eyes. Yennefer enjoys these moments more than any other, seeing Tissaia so relaxed and informal.

"So, what's been happening at Aretuza, then?" Yennefer asks. "Anything scandalous to share with me?"

"I fear not," Tissaia opens her eyes and smiles. "The new batch of girls are, thankfully, better than the last ones. There are one or two showing real promise already."

An age old spike of jealousy pokes at Yennefer's stomach and she frowns at her own irrationality. Tissaia's hand covers her own where it rests on the table between them and she turns to meet amused eyes.

"None of them are anywhere close to your ability, Yennefer. Don't concern yourself with that."

Embarrassed to have been caught in her feelings, Yennefer shifts in her seat and lifts her nose in the air. "Well, good. Can't have you finding a new favourite, can we?"

"No, indeed," Tissaia agrees, as Yennefer takes a sip of wine. "Sabrina would be most disappointed to be demoted."

The joke is so unexpected that Yennefer chokes on her wine. She doesn't quite manage to get a hand to her mouth to cover the cough, and she ends up with wine dripping from her chin, onto her chest and her dress. Before she knows what's happening, Tissaia is up out of her seat, dabbing at her face and her neck, then her chest.

"For goodness' sake, Yennefer," she tuts. "What a mess you've made of yourself."

"Me?" Yennefer croaks.

From nowhere, a picture appears in her mind.

Tissaia bends to press her lips to Yennefer's throat, her tongue snaking out to catch the droplets of wine still lingering there, before moving around and down, onto her chest and-

The vision slams shut so suddenly Yennefer jumps. It's only then she realises that the fantasy was not her own, but belonged to Tissaia. Blood rushes to Yennefer's cheeks at the very thought, and her eyes snap up to meet troubled blue ones. This has happened, on occasion, since Sodden; Tissaia has had momentary lapses in control, resulting in her thoughts being more accessible than usual. But not this kind of thought.

Yennefer puts a hand on Tissaia's wrist, where she's still holding the napkin against her chest. She decides not to embarrass the other woman.

"If you want to kill me, Tissaia, there are easier ways than suddenly developing a sense of humour." She coughs again, though her throat is cleared.

There's a slight crease between Tissaia's eyebrows, she clearly knows Yennefer has seen something. But her mouth twitches into a smile and she nods. She presses the napkin into Yennefer's hand and backs away.

"I'll have you know my sense of humour is very well developed," Tissaia says, sitting herself down again. "Perhaps it's only now that you're older that you appreciate my wit."

"Perhaps that's it," Yennefer agrees, wiping herself down. "Though I'd appreciate it if you gave me a little more warning the next time you are about to make a joke so that I can ensure I'm not drinking at the time."

"Agreed," Tissaia holds up her glass and Yennefer clinks her own against it in a silent acknowledgement of what has passed between them and an agreement never to mention it again.

--------

The problem is, Yennefer can think of little else.

After Tissaia leaves that evening, Yennefer lies in bed, staring at the ceiling. She replays the vision over and over, embellishing it in her own mind, taking it further each time. She pictures Tissaia's mouth trailing down her chest, between her breasts, burying her face in them. She imagines small, powerful hands on her body, touching her everywhere. When she envisages what Tissaia would look like between her legs, framed by her thighs, she can't hold off any longer, and she has to touch herself to relieve the aching need that's been growing since the picture first appeared in her mind.

She gets herself off. It's not pretty, or slow, but it does the job. Once that's dealt with, she returns to her previous activity of lying awake with too many thoughts in her head.

It's a lot to come to terms with. While she has harboured confusing and contradictory feelings about Tissaia for most of her life, she had assumed Tissaia saw her as no more than a former student. Latterly, perhaps a friend.

After all, it had been Vilgefortz who had come to find her before Sodden, not Tissaia. Tissaia's own plea had followed a sound trouncing at the Conclave; confirmation that the endeavour would not be supported en masse. Tissaia begging her to come along had been a last resort. It did not speak of high regard nor special favour.

This vision of them together is more than likely just a result of a sexual fantasy, she decides. Yennefer is no stranger to those; both having them and being the object of them. Rarely, though, do the two combine. While she often pities men for falling over themselves just for a chance to be taken to her bed, the thought that Tissaia wants her in that way is thrilling.

She ignores the part of her mind that is telling her that to have Tissaia so close, and not have her heart, would be devastating. She sighs. It's not like she's unaccustomed to heartache.

And this? This might be worth it.

------

A week passes, and Tissaia has not contacted her. Yennefer is almost out of her mind with questions and desires. Sleep eludes her and she has no appetite for any of the sumptuous meals she orders or conjures. Simply put, she is on hold. She is at the mercy of a fantasy that's not even her own.

By the eighth day, she decides she will have to be the one to make the first move this time. She must go to Tissaia. Not only that, but she must offer Tissaia what it is she clearly wants. Then they will both be able to slake a thirst, and Yennefer might be able to return to some semblance of her normal life.

Give that this may be the only time in her life she gets to be with Tissaia, Yennefer decides that a bit of a show is in order. She conjures up the gown she had worn when they met in Rinde. It has always made her feel powerful, in control.

And Tissaia seemed to enjoy looking at her in it.

As she sits before her mirror, painting her lips, Yennefer recalls that day. Tissaia's voice appearing from nowhere, her smile in the mirror, her hands on Yennefer's shoulders. Even the memory of that very innocent touch now makes her shiver with want.

She applies a dab of her signature scent behind her ears and on the pulse points in her wrists. She checks her reflection in the mirror and smiles. Yes, this will do nicely.

Standing up, she tells herself that the flutter in her stomach is excitement, rather than nerves. But just before she conjures a portal, she takes a swig of strong liquor from a hip flask she keeps in her drawer. With a final nod at herself in the mirror, she calls the portal directly into Tissaia's study, and steps through it.

If Tissaia's startled by her appearing from nowhere, she shows no sign of it. In fact, her face shows relief for the briefest of moments, before her brows gather in confusion as she takes in Yennefer's outfit. She's standing by her desk, reading a document which she sets down and turns to fully appraise Yennefer.

"I- I wasn't expecting you," Tissaia says, still looking at the outfit. "Did you mean to come here? Are you going somewhere?"

Seeing Tissaia off-balance like this should make Yennefer want to pounce, to grab the control and hold on to it. But it just makes her want to take Tissaia in her arms and kiss the confusion from her beautiful face. But that's not what tonight is for so she straightens her shoulders, letting a confident smile slide onto her lips.

"Can I not drop by unannounced to see my favourite Rectoress?" she says, perusing the objects on Tissaia's shelves, trying to calm her stomach.

"Of course you can," Tissaia says, hesitantly. "I just-" A pause. "You seem overdressed, that's all."

Yennefer grins, but hides it as she turns to look over her shoulder. "You'd prefer me to be wearing less?"

Tissaia shakes her head, turning away. "I don't-"

She'll have to speed this up if Tissaia's not to balk. She lifts her head and saunters over to stand by Tissaia at her desk. "Come on, Tissaia." She takes Tissaia's chin in her hand and gently turns her face back around. "We both know that you like looking at me." She lets the tip of her tongue touch her top lip. "And we both know you'd like to do a lot more than look."

Realisation blooms in Tissaia's eyes, and it's like the sun going down. Colour rises in her cheeks and it sends a fire rippling over Yennefer's skin. "How dare you," she begins, her voice low and dangerous.

Yennefer presses a finger to Tissaia's lips. "Shhhh." She shakes her head, eyes on Tissaia's mouth. "Just for tonight, I can be whatever you want me to be." She reaches out and runs her forefinger over the buttons on Tissaia's chest. "We could be-oooofff."

The wind is knocked from Yennefer's lungs as she is thrown across the room by a telekinetic blast, crashing into the wall and sliding to the floor. She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to clear her head where it's ringing from the impact and the magic. When she opens them, Tissaia's shoes are by her head. She looks up and can't help but cringe at the absolute fury radiating from the Rectoress.

"Do you think this is funny, girl?" Tissaia demands. "Taking my moment of weakness and exploiting it for your own amusement?"

"Wh-what?" Yennefer sits up, rubbing at her shoulder. "No! Of course not. That's not what-"

"I had assumed you would be an adult about my-" She turns and walks away a few paces. "About what you saw." She shakes her head. "Clearly I expected too much of you."

"Tissaia," Yennefer tries again. "That's not-" She uses the wall to steady herself as she gets to her feet.

Spinning to face Yennefer once more, Tissaia narrows her eyes. "I will not be one of your conquests, Yennefer," Tissaia says. Her eyes are hard, but Yennefer can see the pain swimming behind the anger.

"I was kind of hoping to become one of yours!" Yennefer mutters, regretting it immediately when she sees the flash of anguish on Tissaia's face.

"You would stand there and mock me?" Tissaia says, her voice hardly above a whisper. "After all we have been through together?"

"No, Tissaia, please let me-"

"Go." Tissaia says, turning away. "Get out of my sight.

"I'm not leaving it like this," Yennefer says, unsteadily marching towards Tissaia. She touches her shoulder, but her hand is batted away. "Tissaia, you need to let me-"

"I don't need to let you do anything," Tissaia says. She turns around, and the anger is gone, leaving only sadness so deep it cracks Yennefer's heart in two. Before she can do anything, though, Tissaia holds up a hand and Yennefer feels a wind behind her, she turns to find a portal spinning there, sucking her backwards. The last thing she sees before she is pulled into it is a tear running down Tissaia's face. "Goodbye Yennefer."

"No! Wait!"

For the second time in five minutes, Yennefer is deposited on her backside. She looks around, disorientated. She has no clue where she is, but it's definitely unpleasant. A bog of some sort. With a sigh, she gets to her feet, determined to set things right.

She calls her own portal, but when she sets the destination as Tissaia's study, the portal collapses. Tissaia has clearly put up wards to prevent her entering. "Fuck." Yennefer curses under her breath. "Of course."

She changes tack, directing her portal to just outside Aretuza's walls. When she steps through, the wind is howling and it's pouring with rain. She's drenched through in seconds, but she pays the weather no heed, taking off at a run through the great gates of the school and in the main door. Thankfully nobody challenges her, even though she must look like a drowned rat. She makes her way through the winding corridors and stairways; so familiar she could navigate them blindfolded.

She reaches Tissaia's apartments, and doesn't bother to knock, only hoping that the wards were limited to portals and that the door will let her through. The handle turns easily and she barges in.

Tissaia is seated at her desk, her head in her hands. She looks up at the noisy entrance and Yennefer's heart breaks all over again at the tear stains on her cheeks.

"What on-" Tissaia stands. "Are you stupid?"

"Probably," Yennefer says, not slowing her pace until she's standing directly in front of Tissaia. "But not stupid enough to walk away without making you see-"

"See what?" Tissaia snaps. She takes in Yennefer's appearance, although it's far less admiring than it was earlier. "You're dripping all over my rug."

Yennefer ignores her, taking her face in her hands, well aware she could be taking her own life in her hands with it. "I'm an idiot, yes. But so are you."

Tissaia gasps. "I am not-"

"Yes, you are," Yennefer says, her confidence growing a little since Tissaia hasn't incinerated her on sight. She sighs, shaking her head. "I've gone about this all wrong, and I'm sorry for that, but I need you to see-" She can feel tears leaking from her eyes in response to the ones shining in Tissaia's. "I need you to understand what I feel for you."

"I think you made that perfectly clear earlier," Tissaia says, but her voice is wavering.

"No, I didn't. I thought that was all you wanted from me. I thought that was the only way I'd be able to be with you. But that's not all I want. Not even close."

Tissaia's hands come up to grip her wrists lightly. "Wh-what do you want?"

Yennefer tilts her head and smiles, the answer is the same as last time, but means so much more.

"Everything."

She pulls Tissaia in, wiping at her tears with her thumbs, and touches their foreheads together, opening her mind and letting Tissaia in completely.

"Don't you feel it? The serenity? I felt it at Sodden. I felt, for the first time in my life, that I was completely in control." She closes her eyes. "And it's because of this. Because of us. We balance each other. My chaos, it...settles, when I'm with you. When we're apart, something is missing and my I'm always restless, always looking for some outlet."

She feels Tissaia's breath against her lips a second before they are covered, enveloped in soft warmth. One of them makes a high, needy sound, and Yennefer thinks it might be her. Tissaia's hands move from her wrists down her arms, to her waist, deepening the embrace. As they kiss, Tissaia's mind slowly opens and Yennefer sees so much love and care that it threatens to overwhelm her.

Gently, she pushes Tissaia back, ending their kiss, but pressing their foreheads back together, gulping in air. When she can speak again, she laughs. "So...it's not just me, then?"

"No," Tissaia says, returning her smile. "Not just you." She traces her fingers down Yennefer's cheek. "Although I do have questions about your earlier antics." She plucks at the now limp and soaking bodice. "And your attire."

"I'm sorry," Yennefer murmurs, brushing Tissaia's lips with her own. "Forgive me?"

"Oh, darling." Tissaia makes a show of rolling her eyes, but there's no disguising the smile she's wearing. She tips Yennefer's face down with a finger on her chin and kisses her again. "Don't I always?"

Yennefer grins into their next kiss, allowing Tissaia's open mind to welcome her in once again, as she does the same in return.

She's kissed many people in her lifetime, but it's never felt like this. It's never felt like being seen, being known, completely.

But this? This feels like forever.

#yennaia #the witcher #fic by me #wff #femslash february #xxtorchxx #yennefer of vengerberg #tissaia de vries

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smallblueandloud · 3 years

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dude… i’m thinking about starting doctor who… give me your thoughts lmao

AAAAAAA

okay. okay. i'm gonna be reasonable about this. i'm not gonna bias you against perfectly good seasons.

I'M TRYING SO HARD HERE I'M GONNA TRY TO NOT HATE ON THINGS THAT YOU MIGHT ENJOY. most of this is under a cut because i apparently have a LOT of thoughts about this, the show i was hyperfixated on for two entire years. go figure!

okay. first thing: don't skip nine. some people might tell you to, and like, you do you and all, but s1 of nuwho is one of my favorite seasons and i don't think anyone should skip it.

(for clarity's sake -- you probably know all this, but you asked for my thoughts, so -- there are two "kinds" of doctor who. classic who is doctors 1-7 and mostly in black and white. it started in the 60s and it's wild and i haven't seen ANY of it, but i know a few people who are super into it, so it appeals! then the show got cancelled. then they did a few movies with the 8th doctor. then they rebooted the series in 2005 with the 9th doctor. that show is still ongoing and it's what i mean when i say nuwho. it's all i've seen, so it's gonna be what i have opinions on lol. nuwho starts on 1x01 "rose", so you can make sure you're watching the right season.)

PERSONALLY, my favorite era of the show is RTD's, which are the first four seasons of nuwho and showrunned by Russell T. Davies. my favorite companion is donna, because her dynamic with the doctor is PERFECTION, but i also really really love rose and martha. the season arcs are kinda all over the place but they're really fun! the show has HEART, okay, it's all about kindness and helping people and solving mysteries and i love it. it doesn't treat its characters of color (martha and mickey) very well, which is my main issue with his run. it makes it hard to enjoy whole episodes of s1, so just, be aware.

then there's the moffat era, from seasons 5 to 10. he. sure wrote a tv show. many people have written about how much they love that era, which i would direct you to rather than trying to write it myself, since i'm... not a huge moffat fan, lol. a lot of people liked how elaborate his plots were and especially how he wrote 11 and 12! (also the master during his era is super popular, but i don't want to spoil much so i'm trying to avoid talking about them lol.) (i will concede, he wrote "blink" in s2 and i LOVE that episode, it's one of the more famous ones for a reason.) bill potts, the fourth (and final) companion of his era, is the first regularly appearing queer companion, and i haven't watched all of her season but i love her.

and right now we're in the chibnall era, which has had two seasons (11 and 12)! honestly i can't articulate what he's about yet, since it hasn't been very long, but his doctor is a DELIGHT and i love her companions. also spyfall was literally everything i've wanted out of television, ever, so i'm kinda legally obligated to enjoy his stuff.

okay, that's eras down. now for shipping: i'm a huge doctor/rose shipper. i can't tell you how popular it is in the fandom at large, but a quick glance at ao3 tells me 10rose has more than two times as many fics as the second most popular doctor who ship (11/river). so do with that what you will! the age gap is weird in the first season, which is why i don't usually headcanon that they're together then, but in s2 it's much more of an... equal partnership? idk if i'm wording this right, i have SUCH a soft spot for 9rose that it's hard to strike the right balance lol. the point is: if 9rose doesn't appeal to you, don't write off doctor/rose entirely, at least not until you've seen s2.

(can you guess which part of the doctor/rose ship appeals to me the most. Can You Guess. hint: there's a reason why s4 is my favorite dw season, and possibly my favorite of television ever.)

i'm also a HUGE fan of random femslash ships between the companions. rose/martha has stolen my heart, but rose/clara is popular (and very sweet) and also What If Yaz And Clara Dated. literally pick two female companions' names at random and i will be extremely into whatever ship that makes.

(sidenote, i'm looking at the ao3 ships again and PROPS to 13yaz shippers for having more fics than doctor/master?? Good For Y'all.)

oh okay and also the master exists. uhhh without too many spoilers: the master is another time lord who grew up with the doctor, and they're kinda... best enemies? (ignore me, i spent two hours today watching sarah z's video on a certain webcomic.) there is one certainty in the doctor's life and it's that they will always have to kill the master one more time. obviously that's the kinda angst that appeals, and they always have Delicious tension when they're both onscreen, so just like. yeah. if you want tortured gay time lords, stay tuned, because that'll be there.

(RTD is gay, i believe, so his storylines are. queer. you will not be surprised that he created jack harkness. the doctor's first onscreen kiss in the reboot, ever, was with a man. Thanks RTD!)

uhhhh that was a lot of words. one more thing: people are gonna tell you you Have to watch This Episode, or This Season, or whatever, and here is my advice on that. do whatever you want! listen to whoever's recommendations you want. it is perfectly fine to skip episodes or entire seasons if you're just not feeling them. i stopped halfway through the s8 finale and still, to this day, have not started s9, and it's fine! watch whatever you want. skip s1 if you're not feeling it! the show is pretty disjointed between doctors, which is disappointing if you want them to reference a long-gone companion, but makes it super easy to skip around.

okay, NOW i'm going to wrap this up. i was hyperfixated on doctor who for YEARS so i have SO MANY THOUGHTS. i keep meaning to get back into it and... hmm, is this a sign? should i go rewatch doctor who? i'm crying PREEMPTIVELY about [redacted episode that features a white wall, for all the whovians reading this] so obviously that is a yes and i will get on it immediately. PLEASE PLEASE let me know how it goes, i'd love to hear your thoughts as you watch!! good luck and enjoy the ride!

#claudiasjeanscregg #doctor who #sb and l rambles #sb and l answers #sb and l watches dw #oh MAN that was so many thoughts #uhhh closing thought is i'm looking at ao3 and rose is in more dw fics than any other character even the 10th doctor #It's What She Deserves Tbh #if you want fic recs i have those too!!!#literally anything oh my god this is so exciting i hope you enjoy!!

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shipmistress9 · 3 years

Text

The Chief And Her Bride

Fandom: HTTYD

Rating: E

Pairing: Hiccup/Astrid

Theme: fem!cup. femslash. fluff. smut

Summary: Astrid loves Hiccup dearly, but she never expected for their relationship to last. So it falls to Hiccup to convince her girlfriend that she won't let anyone separate them. Not even her own father.

AN: Finally! I've been working on this little story for ages, and now, finally, the first chapter is done. What do we have? Female Hiccup and Astrid, in a canon-like setting after HTTYD where Stoick lives, Valka didn't stay, and RTTE is semi-canon. I take what fits. This mostly was supposed to be a test for me whether I even can write femslash. I'm still practising, but I also like this story very much. Also, I thought a while about whether to change Hiccup's name or not, but in the end, I decided against it.

. o O o .

It didn’t take Astrid long to find Hiccup. There was only one place her girlfriend would go when she was stressed or upset, and so Astrid wasn’t surprised at all when she spotted Toothless’s black form lounging near the pond when she and Stormfly reached the cove. Hiccup sat to the side, her back against a rock, her good leg tugged under herself, and her eyes gazing unseeingly into the distance.

After landing, Astrid affectionately scratcher her dragon at her belly before sending her off to play. Then she sauntered over to where Hiccup sat, still lost in her thoughts.

“Hey,” Astrid greeted her as she got closer.

Hiccup blinked before turning her head, then gave her a warm if a little tense smile. “Hey.”

Astrid let herself slide to the ground next to Hiccup. “So… what happened?” she asked. There was no point in pretending nothing had happened; Hiccup had left the village without a word after talking to her father, and Astrid knew Hiccup too well to be fooled.

Hiccup gave a suppressed sigh. She reached for a fallen leaf and nervously picked it apart with her nimble fingers.

“This morning, my dad wanted to talk to me,” she eventually said, and Astrid nodded. She’d noticed that much. “It’s… After what happened with Drago, he wants me to be prepared to take over the village at any moment. Which makes sense, I guess, with how Dad almost got killed in that fight.” She looked up, her pretty green eyes meeting Astrid’s. “And I don’t really mind. I mean, I get it. I need to be prepared and all. It’s just–” She broke off, lips pressed into a thin line.

Astrid reached for Hiccup’s hand, entwining her fingers with her own. “What is it, babe?”

Oh, she had an idea of what Stoick had brought up for his daughter to be so upset. But, maybe, it was something else. Maybe they would have a last reprieve.

Hiccup swallowed. “Dad... He wants me… wants me to get married.” She scratched at her neck and gave Astrid a tense look. “He said that, for the good of the people, I should get a strong partner, someone who can help me carry the burden. Mum returning to live at her sanctuary must have hit him harder than he’s letting on.” Hiccup chuckled weakly, but quickly turned serious again, solemn even.

However, Astrid had barely listened anymore after Hiccup’s first words. Ever since they’d confessed their love to each other two years ago, she’d known it would come to this. Awkward as it had been at first, Astrid was never as happy as in the minutes she got to spend with Hiccup, feeling her touch, her kiss, her body against her own. She loved her, her wit, her intelligence, the way they constantly challenged each other in different ways. But right from the beginning, there had always been an end date for them. The village had accepted their relationship without much irritation, even Stoick. But that was probably because they’d all known it couldn’t last.

Slowly, Astrid withdrew her hand from Hiccup’s, hoping that she wouldn’t notice how much her fingers were shaking. This was going to be hard, for both of them. But she knew it would be even harder for Hiccup if she knew how much their inevitable breakup affected Astrid.

“So, it’s over then,” she whispered, nodding. Gods, why was her voice so brittle? “And I think Stoick is right, Berk will need strong leaders. We can’t only rely on the dragons to protect us. So, uh, did… did he already pick a husband for you? Which alliance would be the most beneficial? Dagur would certainly be interested. Or what about Throk? An alliance with the Defenders of the Wing could help boost your credibility as a female leader. I mean, nobody would ever doubt Mala’s ability to lead her people…”

She trailed off, a weird chuckle dropping off her lips even as she had to avert her face so Hiccup wouldn’t notice the shimmer of tears in her eyes. Gods, she couldn’t start crying now. She was strong and independent, a warrior, captain of the Berk Guard. A broken heart wouldn’t throw her off track, it was nothing.

Even though being with Hiccup was all she really wanted…

“Wait, what?” Hiccup’s words broke her out of her spiralling thoughts. She sounded… off. Confused. Lost.

With a sigh, Astrid forced herself to meet Hiccup’s gaze again. “Well, we always knew it would end that way, right? Us, I mean. And… i-it’s okay. I won’t hold it against you. Berk comes first, and it’s your place to lead them. I just…” She let out a hiccupy sigh. “I don’t know, maybe I’ll ask Atali whether I can stay with them for a while, and—”

Astrid gasped when Hiccup reached for her hands again, a strange urgency in that gesture that made her look up again.

“What are you talking about?” Hiccup asked, confused. Her hands were shaking now, too, Astrid noticed. “I… I won’t marry either of them, no matter what Dad wants. I won’t give up on us! He didn’t choose anyone for me, wanted me to choose a partner for myself. And I already have. I—”

She broke off, biting her lip and her shoulders slumping as insecurity overtook her. Astrid had seen this expression so often on her… Out of reflex, her hands squeezed Hiccup; reassuringly. No matter how much her heart was hurting at the prospect of leaving Hiccup, she would always support her.

Hiccup looked up again, the expression in her eyes so pleading and vulnerable that it made Astrid choke. ”Astrid, I… I chose you.”

Astrid’s eyes grew wide. “What?”

Hiccup pulled up her shoulders, her gaze intensifying. “Everything we accomplished over the years, the Edge, the Dragon Hunters, Drago… I couldn’t have done any of that without you. And I thought… well… that it would always be like that. You and me, together. You’re the only person I can imagine spending my life with. So I choose you. If… if you want me?”

For a minute, Astrid could only stare, stunned. Then laughter broke out of her, and she nodded eagerly and stammered, “I… Yes! Yes, of course, I do.”

But no matter how happy Hiccup’s words made her, the feeling only lasted for a brief moment , only until reality caught up with her again. Her shoulders slumped, her smile falling off her face. “But… it’s impossible,” she murmured.

“What?” Oh, Hiccup sounded so hurt.

It tore Astrid’s heart to pieces. Inwardly chastising herself, Astrid pushed her own pain aside, and said, “Oh, Hiccup… I’d love to tie the knot with you and stand by your side, you know that, right? But we can’t do that. Stoick won’t allow it. The traditions and rules are clear.” Her eyes were burning, and she looked away; she didn’t want Hiccup to see how sad she was. “Your father will insist on you marrying a man, someone to forge a political alliance, if possible. And you’d need an heir anyway. I won’t be in your way to fulfil your duty.”

Swallowing, Astrid tried not to think about it. Unlike herself, Hiccup had never been with anyone but her. Hiccup wasn’t even interested in men. The thought of her being forced into a marriage she didn’t want… it wasn’t fair!

“So-so you would reject me? You’d leave?” Hiccup’s voice sounded hollow, forlorn. So small and lost.

Weakly, Astrid nodded, shrugged. “I hope that you’ll be happy. As happy as you can be. But… I don’t think I have the strength to stand by and watch, at least not right away. And… maybe it’ll even help you settle in more easily, if I’m not around to remind you…” She paused, pulling away. “I hope you can forgive me one day, but–”

“No!”

Astrid looked up, scared of what she would see. She’d never wanted to cause Hiccup pain.

But to her relief, there was no pain in her eyes. All she saw there was the typical Haddock stubbornness, mixed with traces of excitement and joy.

“No, ‘but’, Astrid. If this is what you want too, if you’ll accept me… then nothing will come between us.”

“But your father—”

Hiccup shook her head, her long auburn locks flying around, wild and untamed as always. “I won't let him come between us. He likes you, that much I already know. And he told me he’s happy to see me happy with you. So, if he still wants to separate us… then…” She took a deep breath. “Then he’ll have to train another heir.”

Astrid’s eyes widened. “You’d give up your birthright?”

“For you? Yes. I want to lead our people and I’m prepared for this duty. But only on my terms. I’ll do it with you, together. Or not at all.”

Astrid needed a second to let Hiccup’s words sink in. Then she let out a weak laugh and threw herself around her neck, knocking them both down into the grass. They kissed, an overwhelming sense of giddiness making them both giggle against each other’s lips.

When they came up to breathe again, Astrid’d mind was consumed by overwhelming happiness. Never had she even dared to hope for this outcome, but here now they were, and with this new assurance, she wouldn’t let anyone get between them, either.

She noticed that Hiccup’s hands were trembling, though, so Astrid took them in her own. She could sense how agitated she was, and breathed soft and calming kisses onto her knuckles. Sometimes, Hiccup needed a minute to get order into her thoughts.

“What’s up?” she eventually asked, looking up at Hiccup with a reassuring smile.

Hiccup smiled back, though hesitantly, and her hands tightened around Astrid’s. “I was… pretty nervous, to be honest,” she said with a shaky laugh. “I wasn’t sure how you’D react, and… “ She shook her head, but then suddenly became serious. “Astrid… Why did you say that? Earlier, I mean. About how we always knew it would end that way? What was that about?”

Astrid bit her lip and averted her face. After Hiccup’s vehement confession just minutes ago, this felt silly now. With an embarrassed shrug, she said, “It’s… what I thought would happen, what I was prepared for. I love you, Hiccup, you know that, and these past two years with you have only deepened my feelings for you. But… well, I always expected we’d have to part one day, that this happiness I felt with you would only be temporary. That to become Chief, you'd enter a political marriage, or…” She trailed off, shrugging helplessly.

“Oh,” Hiccup said.

She needed a minute to process, time Astrid used to battle down her own worries. She didn’t want for Hiccup to step down, knew how much the people of Berk meant to her. But that she was willing to risk her father’s anger for her meant a lot to Astrid. And maybe it wouldn’t even have to come this far. Maybe they’d be able to convince Stoick…

“So…” Hiccup eventually said. ”Throughout all this time, you thought we’d have to break up, eventually?”

Slowly, Astrid nodded. She looked up, searching for what to say, but never got the chance. From one second to the other, Hiccup was right in front of her, her hands cradling her face and her lips pressed to her own. Astrid gasped, happily surprised. Usually, Hiccup was much more timid, shy even, so her starting anything was rare.

“So that’s why you sometimes acted so reserved,” Hiccup murmured against her lips. “And here I feared you wouldn’t want to stay with me.”

“What? You—”

But Hiccup interrupted her with another kiss. “Doesn’t matter. You spent two years thinking we couldn’t last. That I would leave you at my dad’s command. That I wouldn't do anything to stay with you.” She came closer, one hand caressing along Astrid’s face while the other landed on her waist, holding her in a light embrace. “Astrid, these past two years have been the happiest of my life. I can’t even put into words how much you mean to me, how empty my live would be without you. But while I was happy, you always worried, and I didn’t even notice.”

Astrid wanted to object, to assure her that she’d been happy, too. But before she could get out even one word, Hiccup kissed her again, more energetic than usual, and it left Astrid breathless, happiness fluttering in her chest. Her hands came up to pull Hiccup closer, wandering along her soft curves, exploring her. Hiccup was always shy, hesitant about carrying things further, so it had become their routine that Astrid was the one to take the initiative. But when her hands reached Hiccups breasts, palming them through her tunic and playing with her covered nipples, she shook her head.

“Today is my turn,” she breathed, joy and confidence dancing in her green eyes when they met Astrid’s. “Can I do this for you? Please?”

A little overwhelmed, Astrid nodded. She enjoyed taking the lead in their lovemaking, but seeing Hiccup like this, confident and eager to take over? It was something else. It meant that Hiccup trusted her enough to allow herself to make mistakes, and that was possibly a greater gift than anything else.

They ended up lying in the soft gras, kissing, groping. Astrid revelled in feeling Hiccup’s soft curves beneath her hands and against her own body, the same as it had been yesterday, and yet, everything felt so new. More meaningful. Complete.

Only slowly, they discarded one piece of clothing after the other. There was no hurry in Hiccup’s motions; she thoroughly appreciated every bit of revealed skin with kisses and caresses, leaving Astrid tingling all over. She tried to return the favour, at least a little, but Hiccup was too thorough, too distracting for her to do much but take her attention. Prior to being with Astrid, she didn’t have any experience with sex and intimacy. But she’d always been observant in everything, a quick learner, and this was no different. Hiccup knew which spots on Astrid’s body were sensitive and how to best stimulate them, had memorised her like a map, and it didn’t take much for her to turn her into a helpless and needy mess.

“Hiccup…” she mewled, hardly able to do more than cling to curvy hips or clutch at the grass beneath them.

But there was no reprieve. Hiccup was kneeling across her left leg, the right lifted and loosely wrapped around her waist. She was leaning down to distract Astrid with kisses, hot and open-mouthed, while her hand worked between Astrid’s thighs, slowly buy relentlessly. Long and nimble fingers caressed along her folds and brushed over her clit, making her body tremble with desire.

If Astrid had had the mind for it, she might have regretted teaching Hiccup about teasing and edging, about how to drive her lover insane with building pleasure. But as it was, Astrid’s mind was entirely empty safe for the wonderful, amazing, merciless things Hiccup made her feel. By now, her fingers were inside her, moving in and out in a pace just quick enough to keep her from calming down. She barely managed to open her eyes and look up into beautiful green eyes, Hiccup’s long auburn curls falling around them like a curtain. There was a flash of eager satisfaction in those eyes, a smirk tugging at full lips as she curled her fingers. Her aim was perfect, hitting Astrid’s g-spot and drawing a cry from her lips. Her back arched at the burst of pleasure, but it wasn’t enough to reach her climax, and it soon became clear that Hiccup wasn’t planning to let her soon, either.

Astrid lost all sense of time, writhing and bucking beneath Hiccup’s confident ministrations for what felt like hours. It felt so good to give herself up and into Hiccup’s care. Astrid trusted her with no exceptions, and so she did the only thing she could, took it all until she felt like she would combust any moment now.

“Oh, please,” she whimpered as Hiccup shifted the angle once again, just a tiny bit but it was enough to push her away from that edge once again. “P-please, Hiccup. I…”

She couldn’t even form coherent words anymore, but it seemed to be enough nonetheless, Hiccup sensing that she couldn’t take much more and showing mercy.

“Yes,” Hiccup breathed, her mouth at her ear, lips nipping at sensitive skin. Her movements sped up, fingers thrusting into her and always hitting the mark. Her thumb rubbed at her clit, over and over, until Astrid’s body became rigid, and the waves of pleasure broke above her.

A cry tore itself from Astrid’s throat as she came, back arching and toes curling. Her hands clutched at whatever they could find, and her head rolled uncontrollably from one side to the other, the intensity of her climax almost too much for her to bear. It consumed her, head to toe, a sensation like lightning shooting through her body. It made her arms and legs shake, made colourful lights explode behind her eyes, and made her scream and yell without any filter.

Once it was over, she only slowly found her way back into reality. Around her, the world was spinning and swimming out of focus, her body not fully reacting as it was supposed to.

“That was… oh, wow. Amazing!” she gasped after a minute, still catching her breath. She finally managed to focus her gaze on Hiccup who was leaning over her, with a smug grin on her lips and her eyes beaming.

“Well, I had the best teacher.”

They both laughed, then Hiccup laid down next to her, both entangled in a tight embrace.

“Just give me a few minutes, then I’ll get back to you,” Astrid murmured. She felt heavy, sleepy, but it wouldn’t be fair to leave Hiccup hanging like that.

Hiccup chuckled, but it sounded strained. “No need for that now,” she said, her voice a little tense.

Her arms tightened around Astrid, her finger digging into her arm as if to hold on to her. “First, he should talk to my dad.”

. o O o .

AN: Sooo, that was that. :) Thoughts and comments highly appreciated.

#Hiccstird #fanfiction #httyd #nsft #femslash #femslash february #fluff #not for children #fem!cup #female Hiccup

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haltandcatchfiretothemax · 3 years

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FEMSLASH FEBRUARY 2021 #1: In which Cameron takes Donna on a date

[CN: food, food shopping, and eating mentions]

After nearly a year of letting Donna do all of the asking, Cameron asked Donna out. While strolling down the produce aisle of the supermarket on a routine shopping trip, Cameron asked her, “Hey, do you wanna go on a date to a museum with me sometime soon?”

Donna looked up from the carton of raspberries she’d been inspecting, and smiled at Cameron. “A museum? I would love to!”

An hour later, as Cameron and Donna worked together in the kitchen to put away their groceries and other supplies, Cameron said unprompted, “I went to a lot of museums in Japan.”

“Oh?” Donna responded, intrigued.

Cameron went back into the refrigerator to retrieve some cold cuts and the mayonnaise, “I’m hungry, I’m gonna make some sandwiches, okay?” As she put slices of bread into the toaster, she said, “I’d wander into them, after walking around aimlessly through the city, when I wanted a place to sit. And then I’d actually walk through them, and it was always nicer, and more soothing than I thought it would be?” She paused to grab some clean plates and butter knives from the dishwasher, and set them down on the counter. “And then I’d always go home, and ask Tom to go with me, but we never did, he was always too busy. Which would disappoint me, and make me feel alone in the world. But I started to like going to them by myself, and in the end, I was kind of relieved that he never came with me. It wouldn’t have been the same, and I don’t think he would have even like it all that much.”

The toaster dinged, and Cameron went to fish the bread out.

Leaning comfortably against the counter, Donna watched her, and asked, “What made you think of all that? Anything in particular?”

As they assembled their sandwiches, Cameron said, “Well, I haven’t been wandering around lately. I’ve been here, at your house.”

Donna spread mayonnaise on her toast and gently corrected her, “Our house.”

“I like that it’s your house,” Cameron insisted, as she shook some potato chips from a new bag onto her plate, “I mean that in a good way. I’ve been here, though. For the first time in a long time, or maybe ever, I don’t feel lost. And I don’t know, I thought it might be nice to go to a museum, as opposed to just ending up at one.”

The following Saturday morning, Cameron drove them up to San Francisco. They chatted happily for the forty minute drive, and then when they pulled up to the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, Donna went quiet. And then she said, “Oh…you meant an art museum!”

As they entered the parking garage, Cameron said, “What do you mean, I meant an art museum? What did you think I meant?”

Timidly, Donna admitted, “I thought you meant the natural history museum.”

“What are you, ten?”

Donna frowned, “I love natural history museums.”

Cameron parked the car, and turned off the ignition. “Honestly, so do I. But who takes their girlfriend on a date to the natural history museum?!”

Donna took off her seatbelt and said, “I would be into that. That sounds like a great date!!”

They bickered, still trying to sort out their miscommunication, all the way from the parking lot up to the museum’s ticket desk. Cameron purchased their tickets, and the young woman behind the desk handed them admission stickers, and a catalog, which Donna took from her, after politely thanking her.

As they silently walked together into the first gallery, Donna said, “Well, confession: I don’t really ‘get’ art.”

Cameron shook her head irritably. “I don’t believe that. You’re a musician.”

“That’s different!”

They walked quietly around the room, stopping at photos mounted to the wall, reading the placards next to them, and then they walked into the next gallery, which was overwhelmed by one large sculpture, a 30 foot by 30 foot curtain of silk fake flower petals sewn together, and hung from the ceiling.

“What was I just saying about not getting it?” Donna looked up at the flowers, and dejectedly huffed, “…I don’t get this.” Unsure of what else to do, she opened the catalog, and found a description of the sculpture. Quietly, Donna read the name of the artist and title of the work: “Jim Hodges, No Betweens. 1996.” She skimmed the following write up, which started with a description of how the artist’s friends and family had helped him pull apart fake flowers and iron out and prepare their loose petals, and ended with a reference to the AIDS crisis, and to the work’s sense of ‘yearning and loss’ and ‘friends and lovers who have died’. She tried to make herself read it, but couldn’t.

Cameron’s gaze was fixed on the curtain. “Maybe you’re not supposed to get it. Maybe you’re just supposed to feel it.” She looked the piece up and down, trying to wrap her mind around how tall and how broad it was. “Like with music, or a movie. No one ever says, ‘I don’t get it’ when they turn on the radio or go into a theater. You just give it your attention.”

Donna felt a rush of affection for Cameron, for her mind, for everything Donna didn’t yet know about her, and looked over at her. Unable to resist though, she countered, “Oh, people have definitely said ‘I don’t get it’ about music, just ask the rich French theater-goers who threw fruit at the first performance of Stravinky’s The Rite of Spring.”

Cameron didn’t say anything at first, and then she looked at Donna, “Wait, they threw fruit? God, people are awful.” Then, after another second, she said, “Wait — where did rich people get fruit to throw if they were in a theater?”

The skeptical scrunch of Cameron’s gloriously full, ashy blonde eye brows made Donna giggle, but then, as she thought about it, her eyes widened. “I don’t know! I just remember my high school band conductor telling us about it during rehearsal.” Mouth still slightly agape, Donna turned her attention back toward the piece of art in front of them. Absent-mindedly, she said, “I guess…maybe he meant ‘threw fruit’ in a figurative sense….”

Cameron laughed quietly at her, and Donna tried to do just what Cameron had suggested: give the sculpture her attention. “I suppose,” she said, “that if I could feel things about your code, I can try and feel this.”

Cameron hadn’t thought about the Cardiff Giant or its BIOS in what felt like ages. A happy warmth spreading through her chest at the memory of Donna saving her code, Cameron slipped her hand into Donna’s, and whispered, “See? You know plenty about modern art.”

#did you know you can look at previous exhibition catalogs on sfmoma's site? i didn't but i do now ; )#it is ON bitches it is femslash february!!! happy february and happy monday!!!#femslash february #femslash february 2021 #fic #fan fiction #cameron howe #donna clark #donna emerson

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shachaai · 3 years

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I don't know... Could you do a post with some of your favorite Fanfictions? (your Hetalia Fanfictions ❤️ I really like to read your work) thank you 😘

This is a bit all over the place and there is a lot of (fem!)England-centric fic, because apparently I’m a messy one-trick pony. =w=;;;

...

Gods AU

First and foremost I want to say some of my favourite hetalia writing has been done for the Gods AU that is/was a shared baby between Hoof, Eden and myself (with a few pieces by some very kind babysitters over the years as well). It’s a heavily engport-centric AU, where Portugal (Lusus) is the God of the Underworld and England (Albion) his somewhat volatile spouse. It’s an ensemble cast and most of the characters are deities of some kind, and is heavy on pretty scenery, stupid families, and tragic love. Also there’s a bunch of fluff and ancient historical/mythological-style smut - in both writing and art. (The art, obviously, is Very Not Mine.)

Nationverse

No Quarter: A bet tumbles the four of them into bed. (They would've done it even without the bet.)

England/Portugal/F!England/F!Portugal

Historical, Fluff and Smut, Nationverse but if both the regular cast and nyos existed in the same universe

Chapters 1/4, 2,739 words

Ok, this one is a WIP, but the single chapter that there is so far can actually standalone, and contains four idiots being both Incredibly Sexy and Incredibly Stupid. I really like how I handled their dynamics here, and the ebb and flow of control between them.

Small But Golden: France and England watch a meteor shower together.

France/England - though it can be read as either friendship or romance (or both)

Oneshot, 1,285 words

Honestly, this one just made the list because it’s got one of my favourite stupid endings to a fruk fic I’ve written. These two old farts will bicker about anything, and they’re both so smug whenever they feel like they’re ‘winning’ - it makes it even more fun to write about them cocking up.

For A Muse of Fire: I’m cheating, because this is my F!England Nationverse collection, but all of its works are very dear to me one way or another. Particular favourites for me though are:

Sweet Dear Tempting Mischiefs: Whitehall, England. May, 1672. Two young people, Nations, so in love they're ridiculous. And, fancy clothes be damned, romantically having sex up against a tree.

Fem!England/Portugal

Oneshot, 13,851 words

This is my fic where there is a lot of pretty clothing and flirting, and f!England and Portugal are very, very soft and smitten with each other. And also they go horse-riding and then fuck up against a tree.

One of my tags on AO3 for this fic is ‘there’s a war on in the background and you wouldn’t be able to tell’, and that’s about everything you need to know about this fic after the pretty clothes, outdoor sex, and fluff.

Queen of the Golden River: Hong Kong, Peking, Calcutta, Suez, Paris and London. 1859-1861. It shouldn’t be so difficult to throw a grand Christmas party for everyone, should it, not if you are the glorious empire that rules the world?

Chapter 1 features F!England and France (implied fruk) with a young Hong Kong, in Hong Kong, discussing the Opium Wars and China

Chapter 2 features F!England and Scotland with a young Australia and New Zealand, in Victoria (Australia)

Chapters 2/?, 9,591 words

Another WIP, but I think both of the chapters that already exist stand well as individual timestamp pieces, and I think they’re worth a read for the historical dynamics at the time.

A stupid amount of research went into just these two chapters, and I think they’re great if you like imperialistic conniving, awful romances and seriously dysfunctional families.

Fruits of Immortality: France, England, and apples through the ages.

France/England, also featuring young America and Sealand

Oneshot, 2,800 words

This is just a series of snapshots of England and France through the eons around the theme of ‘apples’ - originally written as a gift for suddenlyapples. XD;;; It’s very soft and sweet, and features young England and France bickering about a dragon that eats shoes. (One of my favourite arguments that I’ve written for those two.)

AUs

A Star Is Moving Somewhere: Elaine has unexpected leave for the holidays. Julia didn’t expect Elaine to offer to spend it with her.

F!England/F!Prussia, F!Germany, Germany’s dogs (F!England/France and America mentioned)

A human AU featuring: Christmas nonsense but if the background is a futuristic space opera? (F!England is the captain of a spaceship.) Open relationships (the fruk in this are engaged to be married as a power alliance, but F!England is dating/sleeping with F!Prussia, and France is sleeping with America. Everyone knows and consents to this).

Oneshot, 4,195 words

Sob, I just think this is a really good piece of my own writing? Plus the ~sexy moment~ descends into funny chaos, and I personally love wrecking a potential sex scene like that.

The Little Fox and its sequel Kitsune-mochi

A supernatural AU based upon a switch of canon Halloween costumes between Japan and England.

Vampire!Kiku adapts to suddenly becoming a vampire, and befriends baby kitsune!Arthur.

I don’t have a wordcount for these because I’ve not crossposted them to AO3 (yet) but they’re both just short pieces of fluff.

Nothing Can Hurt You Here: a spaport oneshot I wrote as a gift for Trevo and Lunie for their Game of Thrones AU. Lunie has since wiped her stuff, I think, but Trevo’s tag for the AU still exists.

Oneshot, no word count available

IDEK, I just like how I wrote about the scenery and their wordplay. Hedonists.

Wealh: The sharp thegn Coenwulf has just wed an uncanny wife, everyone agrees, a strange, competent but difficult woman. How vexing it is then, to be the foolish slave that loves her.

A human AU set in 7th century Anglo-Saxon England

F!England/F!France with incidental F!England/Netherlands, Belgium, Liechtenstein, Monaco and a few others

Oneshot, 31,006 words according to my notes on this (but I haven’t counted again since then)

Head’s up, this one was written for an event where I was assigned to write a tragedy and it deals with some serious topics such as slavery, but it’s seventh century femslash, I’m still so proud of it? I wanna add more to this story before it ever makes it to AO3, but it’s very far down my priorities, and I am intensely proud of everything there is for it already. (Also I think the NedEng parts are hot. /SHRUG)

#calhau-defumado #Shacha fic #I really hope the formatting on this works; it's taken a long time to sort out #ETA: nope - the formatting broke

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chainofclovers · 3 years

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2020 fic in review

@dollsome-does-tumblr was kind enough to tag me to do a post summarizing my top five fics of 2020, but I ran out of time to do it before 2021 started. So here I am, a day late and a dollar short.

I published a little over 57,000 words of fic this year, in the form of seven stories and eleven mini tumblr prompt fill stories. Rather than focus on stats and external validation, I’ll just share the five that were my favorites (in chronological posting order).

(A quick note about the ratings--I’m using abbreviations like E and M because I am afraid tumblr will hide this post if I use the word e*p**cit. For my stories, I tend to rate them E if sex is a continual, repeated part of the content or if a single instance of sex is particularly graphic. I use M if there’s minimal but important sexual content, like in the case of “More Than Life Itself,” which has a single sex scene that is important to the plot but not the entire plot.)

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the rose room - Grace and Frankie, Grace/Frankie, 7294 words, rated E

I wrote this story before 2020 became 2020, if that makes sense. I wanted to write a story about entering a new year being the person you want to be. I loved writing this story--I loved imagining the different rooms in the B&B, and thinking about what it would be like to have nervous first-date energy with someone who’s been your best friend for years, and messing around with chronology, and even introducing a helpful queer original character.

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More Than I Have - Grace and Frankie, Grace/Frankie, 4037 words, rated M

When the pandemic arrived in the U.S. and we entered lockdown, and I had no idea just how horrifically badly everything would be handled even though I knew it was going to suck for a long time, I really struggled with my writing. I didn’t want to write some clichéd quarantine story because it felt way too soon to actually deal with my feelings, but it also felt weird to return to my in-progress story and try to write about people socializing in public and going about their regular business when that felt so suddenly foreign and impossible. Finally, my wife gently suggested that I just try writing whatever I felt about the pandemic in whatever form it took. This story, told from Grace’s perspective about the fourteen days Frankie quarantines after rushing home from a trip at the start of the pandemic, is the result. It wasn’t exactly “healing” to write--let’s see how I’m doing in 2022 or 2023, okay? But writing it felt really, really good, and I was blown away by the positive responses to the story.

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snowy train - Grace and Frankie, Grace/Frankie, tiny story, rated M

@puntless sent in the snowy train prompt, and the resulting story ended up being one of my favorite things I wrote this year?! I got to research a real train trip that I now dream of taking myself someday, and (mildly) sexy existential lesbian train times were a nice little break from whatever was probably actually happening in my brain at the time.

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More Than Life Itself - 9 to 5, Judy/Violet, 8411 words, rated M

This is probably my favorite story I wrote this year. It was such a joy to write about the characters of 9 to 5, and I really took my time on this story, which was a gift for my wife. I got “I Guess That’s Why They Call it the Blues” stuck in my head every single day for weeks, but that was a small price to pay for getting to spend time with Judy and Violet (and Doralee!), and particularly with Judy’s journey to becoming a person who is comfortable taking up space and seeking happiness on her own terms.

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every version of yourself tonight - Dead to Me, Jen/Judy, 4607 words, rated T

When I matched on Dead to Me and ONLY Dead to Me for Femslash Exchange, I was thrilled because it meant I would finally have to write about these characters. @judysgf basically saved my life by agreeing to be my beta and to discuss the characters with me (read her DtM fic if you haven’t yet! bethchildz at AO3! so good!).

honorable mention:

to justify what you need - Grace and Frankie, Grace/Frankie, 17883 words, rated E

Writing this story was HARD. So difficult, in fact, that I can’t just cheerfully include it up there with the others as a true favorite. I’d been toying around with the story since sometime in 2019, and I started posting it right before the pandemic arrived in the U.S. I’d just recovered from a surgery that got unexpectedly harrowing, although I did not die (yay!), and recovering from that felt like the big thing I’d have to make it through in 2020 so I figured it would be safe to kick off a WIP after that. Hahahhahahaa! Still, I worked really hard on the dialogue for this story and told the story I wanted to tell in the end, even if it took a lot longer than I wanted and included more personal writing angst than anticipated.

Thank you for reading this. If anybody else wants to do this, I would be delighted to read your lists, so please don’t hesitate to tag me in your posts. :D Happy end of 2020, and happy new year!

#fic by me #2020 fic year in review #bye 2020!#grace and frankie #dead to me #9 to 5 #9 to 5 (1980)

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 3 years

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Femslash February (Day 14)

Prompt: Heart Fandom: Winx Club Pair: Icy/Lucy

Summary: Lucy asks Icy on a date. Icy accepts for the sake of humiliating the woman. She doesn't expect to actually enjoy her company.

Today on rarepairs; has anyone actually wrote for Icy/Lucy yet????

A paper bat wing, because hearts are too cliche. She slips it under the door and leaves in haste. She hopes that this time it will be reciprocated or appreciated.

She has a feeling that it won’t be reciprocated even slightly. More likely, she will be mocked and ridiculed again. What a fool she is to try to chase after someone so painfully obviously cold. Someone so far out of her league.

Why is her heart so...misguided? Why can’t it be as dark and warped as Cloud Tower itself. That would be wonderful. That would be easy. It would beat pining over a woman who would rather see her spelled and hexed into oblivion.

Even Mirta isn’t this foolish. Even Mirta isn’t setting herself up for this much humiliation.

And yet, she comes back to her dorm to find a note on the floor. Her hands shake as she opens it. She knows what she is going to find; she just isn’t sure how harsh and humiliating the rejection will be. Icy is mighty creative and her creativity has a razor’s edge.

It is frank and to the point, written in elegant cursive. The kind that she thought the ice witch ought to have. ‘Fine. 11:30 at the Broom & Hex Cafe.’ She stares at the silver ink, her hands shake with twice the force.

She has a date. She has a date and yet she can’t quite believe that she does. She knows exactly how this is going to end. Really there’s only one way that it can, realistically speaking. But, how pathetic she is, she craves the witch so much that she is more than willing to face further humiliation just for a taste of what she craves. Just for a lovely little illusion.

.oOo.

“Oh she’s going to weep.” Stormy chuckles.

“She’s going to do more than weep by the time I’m through.” Icy vows.

“And here I thought that I was the devious, alluring one.” Darcy quirks a brow and runs her fingers through her locks.

“You just keep toying with Riven, I’ll make sure that Lucy doesn’t lurk outside our dorm ever again. I never was a fan of Fae Hearts's day, ladies. But this will be one to remember.”

“But wait!” Stormy bolts upright. “What if she, like, loses it and gets more obsessive and weird?”

“Then we’ll teach her another lesson.” Darcy shrugs.”

All she will have to do is endure one loathsome day. A few hours of false gushing and pseudo sweet talk will pave the way for days of wicked delight.

.oOo.

The cafe is particularly crowded when she arrives, dressed in her favorite ripped plaid dress and a set of matching arm warmers that are at least a size or two too big. She swallows and takes a deep breath as she searches the ice witch out. It only takes one quick sweep to know that she isn’t there--the woman is the sort to stand out rather starkly. But she does a second and third sweep anyhow.

She has to laugh, of course she wouldn’t even show up. That’s the oldest trick in the book. But she had so fervently hoped that Icy would at least pretend to love her for an hour or so.

“You’re early.”

Lucy jerks.

“You showed up?”

Icy quirks a brow. “You’re welcome.” She breezes by. “We’ll sit over there.” She points to the table at the very center of the room. The one that is already occupied. “I always sit there.”

“But that spot is already taken.”

She snaps her fingers and the platters on the table begin to wriggle and crawl. And then they are knocked to the floor as the couple scrambles away. Worms, grubs, and roaches turn back to soup, chili, and gummies. She snaps a second time and the mess is cleaned. “Looks vacant to me.”

“You’re terrible.”

“The vileist.” Icy smirks.

“It’s admirable.”

“Naturally.” She pulls out a chair. “Sit. Tell me about yourself, and make it good, I don’t waste my time on losers.”

“I’m not.”

“Convince me.”

She clears her throat. She hadn’t realized that this was going to be an interview. “I thought that this was a date.” She scoffs. “Not an interrogation.”

Icy crosses her arms and leans back in her chair.

“I can play the guitar.” She caves.

“The guitar? I play myself. What brand and model?”

“I have a SpiderMistress, Cauldron Green. You?”

“SpiderMistress as well. Midnight Hex.”

Lucy’s eyes go wide. “How’d you get that? Those models are super expensive.”

“I won it at a competition a few years back.”

“Maybe we can, I don’t know, have some kind of practice together! Are you, Darcy, and Stormy in a band.”

Icy snickers. “We don’t have time for that. Though I suppose that Stormy is a pretty capable singer and Darcy wouldn’t be terrible on the drums.” She shrugs. “Anyways, it’s a useless hobby.”

“Why do you say that?”

She catches a flicker of something in the woman’s frigid eyes. Something sincere, sad, regretful? It is gone before she can decipher it. Gone so fast that she may have imagined it entirely. “It means nothing compared to higher goals. I have ambitions, real ambitions.”

“And talent.” Lucy declares. “I haven’t heard you play but you’re good at everything else you do.”

“True.” Icy replies. “But I’ve been told that my talents are best invested elsewhere. I think I’d like a bigger following than a handful of groupies.”

The way groupies rolls off of her tongue. That pointed stare… Lucy’s heart sinks. She is pathetic, she knows that she is. Really she isn’t much better than a groupie and Icy isn’t even famous. She pushes it down and tries to play it off. “Yeah. Why settle for less when you can have more?” She wonders if she is settling for less by trying for someone who thinks of her as less.

“Yes, that’s a good question. Why would I settle for less.”

Lucy’s heart sinks further.

“My powers are nice and all but I think that with a touch of dragon fire magic…” she trails off and takes a spoonful of ice cream. “That’ll make a real show, don’t you think?”

Lucy nods vigorously. “I mean your magic is amazing the way it is. You’re the most powerful witch that I know. But how badass would it be to have fire and ice magic?” She is kissing so much ass. Gushing and rambling and making a fool of herself. She wishes that they could just stick to talking about guitars. “What would you do with all of that power?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” Icy replies. She holds out her spoon, “have a taste.”

She wants to, desperately, just to taste the witch on her tongue. But how sadly desperate would that look. “After you licked it?” She crinkles her nose.

Icy scoffs. “How do you plan to…” she leans in closer. “Make out if you can’t even share a spoon with me.”

Lucy swallows. “Licking a spoon isn’t as exciting as making out. All or nothing.” She does a lot of big talk for someone with such low confidence.

Icy quirks a brow. “All or nothing.” She shrugs. And with an alarming abruptness, she pulls Lucy in by the collar and plants her lips upon hers. They are as frosty as she had expected and she tastes of spearmint and cigarettes. She smells of it too. She tangles her long blue fingernails in her hair. She is vicious and merciless, it’s exhilarating.

And she pulls back. “Wow, that was the most underwhelming kiss I’ve ever had. Usually they at least try to impress me.”

“I wasn’t ready!”

“Improv, my dear.” She drawls. She leans back once more, draping her hands on the arm rests.

And something snaps. Something that should have snapped ages ago. But it comes as a desire. A desire to shove the chair over if only to see that smug, conceited smirk crack. To shatter the woman’s ego if only for a moment.

“You know what, I don’t know why I tried!” She stands up with a quickness that knocks the chair to the floor. She has to keep her momentum before it vacates. “I think that it’s because I feel bad for you. You’re hollow and shallow and...and…” her lip twitches into a snarl, “you aren’t as amazing as you think you are. Do you even think that you’re amazing?” She isn’t sure how to end her rant so she finishes with the first thing that comes to mind, “you can have the most expensive guitar on the market but that doesn’t mean that you have the talent to play it.”

And it is gone, that smug, conceited look. Gone and she hadn’t had to even raise a fist. She balls them both and makes her way to the door. She has dignity. She has self-respect.

And she deserves more than a stupid game. All or nothing. All of the nothing in the world is better than letting herself chase after one moment of false love. Her heart isn’t so foolish as she had thought.

.oOo.

It wasn’t supposed to have gone like that. Lucy wasn’t supposed to have left. That was her role. She rubs her hands over her face. She was supposed to be doing the humiliating. Not that she hadn’t been able to save herself the worst of it with a remark about how dramatic witches these days are.

But that isn’t it. That isn’t what keeps itching and clawing at her mind. She lightly raps her fist against her forehead, as though she can knock the deeper, more disturbing implications from her mind.

She wishes that the woman would have just flinched and cried like the rest of them. She wishes that Lucy were as unbearable, cringe-inducing, and repulsive as she had assumed that she would be. She was supposed to have been intolerably embarrassing to be around.

She wasn’t supposed to have talked about guitars or bands or anything that Icy is thoroughly and truly interested in. She wasn’t supposed to have made these things sound so intriguing and worth investing time into. And she certainly wasn’t supposed to have shown any teeth.

Icy doesn’t think that anyone has had the balls to stand up to her so publicly and, God, how intriguing it is. She cringes to herself. Not Lucy. Not loser Lucy. It can’t be her of all people. Especially not after the game she’d tried to play. The game that she’d lost.

Lost and swapped decks. She inhales deeply. She supposes that she will just have to do what she does well, encase her heart in ice much thicker and colder than before. The feeling will pass, it always does. She has just as little time for romance as she does for silly guitar riffs.

She lays back and stares at the ceiling until Darcy and Stormy enter.

.oOo.

She notices Icy lingering. Lingering and, dare she say, lurking. It is almost laughable. It could be that she is waiting for an opportunity to strike, watching and observing for weaknesses, an opening to take her vengeance. But somehow she senses that this isn’t the case.

No. The witch is exuding the very same energy that she once had.

She thinks that it would be plenty satisfying to march right up to her and let her know that she has been well aware of her presence and watch her stumble over a lie about how she had only been stalking about for the sake of feeling out the enemy.

It would be satisfying twice over to make a scene of it, to deal out the same brand of humiliation that the ice witch had intended for her. If only Lucy didn’t still feel so drawn to her. If only Icy wasn’t everything she admired in a person; bold, confident, suave, and cool. If only she weren’t so beautiful in a cutting, razorlike way that is all her own.

She can very well toy with the woman, blackmail and mock her, rouse her hatred and contemptment. She can’t help but do so at least a little. “See something you like?” She calls into the hallway. She expects the woman to slink away with a muttered curse or two. Instead she slips out into the open and leans against the frame of the door with her arms folded across her chest as though she had intended to be seen in the first place.

“Perhaps a few things.” She flicks her hair. “We didn’t finish our date, Lucy.”

“I lost interest.”

Icy quirks a brow, “did you?”

She wishes that she had. “Mostly.”

“That’s a shame.” She shrugs. “I admit, you piqued mine. I didn’t realize that you had fight.”

It occurs to her that perhaps the ice witch is very much into that. Into someone who is willing to get in her face and fight back. She can’t imagine that many people would.

“It’s compelling. Keeps things intense.” She continues.

“Well, while you look for fights, I’m going to look for respect.” Now that she has found it she isn’t willing to let it go so easily.

Icy is quiet for a moment. “You have already.”

“Was that a compliment?”

.oOo.

The deeper this conversation goes the less worth she thinks it has. She is going to make a fool of herself, and for what? Love? That isn’t the downfall she has in mind for herself. “Don’t push your luck, Lucy. I still have curses and hexes that will…”

“Make me regret ever setting foot in Cloud Tower? Yeah, I get the gist.”

“Do you?”

“Get to the point. Are you here to hex me or kiss me?”

Really, why not both? “I guess that, that’s up to you.” Though she supposes that she’d much prefer to have another go at the woman’s lips. “Show me what you can do now that you’re prepared.”

Lucy grips the door and Icy is certain that it is about to slam in her face. Instead the woman damn near throws her into the wall. Her kiss is rough, almost savage. Intriguing. She curls her fingers into strands of dark green hair and adds a frosty edge of her own. And then Lucy pulls back as abruptly as she had engaged. Her breathing is still decently ragged. “Improv, my dear.” She says again, “can make or break the moment, do you understand now.”

Lucy nods. “Perfectly.”

“Well then...” Icy trails a finger over the woman’s cheek, content to have taken back at least some control.

“Well then, what?” She puts her hands on her hips.

“Are you interested in a real date?”

“Don’t you have a reputation to uphold?”

Icy rolls her eyes, “I’m the one who decides what’s in and what’s out. Welcome to the in crowd, Lucy.” So long as she keeps up with her newfound confidence she will stay for quite a long time. And with luck Icy won’t have to do any of the work to keep her at the top. “It suits you better, Lucy. This, self-respect thing.”

.oOo.

A second date. A real date. Her heart thrums faster than it has in a while. And the ice witch doesn’t think that she’s pathetic. And when they speak in the halls it feels different, she doesn’t call her a loser this time. She doesn’t dismiss her, doesn’t mock her with Darcy and Stormy when she is just on the fringes of earshot.

It doesn’t take terribly long for the two of them to get used to her stopping by the dorm. They still whisper. She still hears them questioning and pestering Icy. Icy invites her over more. Icy makes a point of slinking as close to her as possible, of getting handsy, of initiating deep kisses. “If they hate what your doing,” she mutters in Lucy’s ear, her voice husky with passion, “do it in front of them, exaggerate it, give them something to really talk about.”

She wonders if Icy has always been so bold or if it is the product of trial and error and one big sweeping success that has driven her to the top.

“You have much more allure when you aren’t copying everything that I do.”

“I’ve found that there isn’t anything worth copying.” Lucy smirks.

Icy gives a haughty sniff, “fuck you, Lucy.” She grabs her by the scruff of her shirt and pulls her onto the bed.

She wishes that she would have found her sense of self worth earlier.

#femslashfeb2021 #Winx #Winx Club #Winx Icy #Winx Lucy #Fanfiction

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eidetictelekinetic · 3 years

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Fic Interview Meme

Thanks for the tag, @rubickk7 !

How many works do you have on AO3?

I have 115 fics.

What’s your total AO3 wordcount?

1,553,954

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

On AO3:

The Magicians (TV) (28)

A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin (21)

Inception (2010) (20)

Suits (US TV) (17)

Game of Thrones (TV) (12)

Black Sails (7)

Supernatural (6)

The Avengers (Marvel Movies) (5)

A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms (5)

The Tudors (TV) (3)

The Hobbit - All Media Types (2)

X-Men (Movieverse) (2)

Marvel Cinematic Universe (2)

The Hobbit (Jackson Movies) (2)

Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies) (2)

X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies) (2)

American Gods - Neil Gaiman (1)

Conviction (TV 2006) (1)

16th Century CE RPF (1)

Star Wars Legends - All Media Types (1)

Star Wars - All Media Types (1)

Star Wars Sequel Trilogy (1)

Whitechapel (TV) (1)

Chronicles of Narnia (Movies) (1)

Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett (1)

Here’s the list from my fanfiction.net days (some overlap here):

Song of the Lioness

Star Wars

Stargate: SG-1

Harry Potter

In The Forests of the Night

X-Men: The Movie

Circle of Magic

Doctor Who

House, M.D.

Wicked

Law and Order: SVU

Torchwood

Charmed

Primeval

NCIS

Tudors

Inception

Supernatural

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Lady of Rivers and Storms [ASOIAF]: When Lysa miscarries Petyr's child before anyone learns of her pregnancy, her father negotiates a different marriage for her instead. Married to the second Baratheon son, will the future be any easier for either of them?

In the Middle (Before I Knew I Had Begun) [Suits]: It's an accident, when Mike touches Lyla. But everything follows from there. (Or maybe everything follows from the moment Rhi saw the golden tiger and all she could think was how beautiful she was.)

Skyfall Is Where We Start [ASOIAF]: 'At least Stannis won't laugh at Renly if the boy tries to follow him around when he's a bit older and takes a tumble on the flagstones. It's not much, not much at all, but perhaps it's enough to be going on with.'

Robert never loved his brothers, but this is not a story about Robert. This is about Stannis, and Renly, and glimpses of how they might have been different, had they let themselves love each other as brothers usually do.

Breakin’ Out the Institution [Suits]: “OK, so, before we start, a few things you should know about me. My name’s Mike Ross, not Rick Sorkin. I am a lawyer, I just didn’t go to Harvard. But you should hear me out anyway.”

Where Mike is actually a lawyer, a Brooklyn ADA looking for a change of pace, and gatecrashes Harvey's interviews entirely on purpose.

Lay Me Down (Pockets Full of Stones) [The Magicians]: The world spins, and Quentin doesn’t even feel his knees buckle, or how his head hits the wall on the way down. All he knows is the fall into the quiet dark.

In which Quentin survives the events of 4.13 by taking such bad care of himself he never actually makes it to the Mirror Realm. Also in which everyone loses him for a day, and Eliot is Not Happy about this.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Yeah; I like getting responses to my comments so I do my best to reply to comments I get.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I had to go back to fanfiction.net for this because I never crossposted these to AO3, but Kiss My Eyes for The Tudors. It was Anne of Cleves/Cromwell, which was tragic mostly because it was historically compliant so a deathfic. Honorable mention, same fandom, was And In That Hour, Charles Brandon/Margaret Tudor and Charles Brandon/Henry VIII, unrequited love for the latter.

Fun fact about the latter, it was the first m/m fic I ever wrote; the deal was I’d write a slash fic if one of my forum friends did a femslash one.

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve ever written?

Ha. Hahahahahaha. So, back when I was 17-18 I was working on a verse titled A Moment To Be Real, and it was a crossover verse that, taking all the relevant fics into account, included Charmed, Primeval, the Whoniverse, and NCIS in major capacities. In more minor capacities, the plans for the verse also included Fringe, Supernatural, Stargate SG1/Atlantis, and Warehouse 13. Oh, and there were two main timelines and two minor ones the stories spent time in. Heh. Yeah, that was a thing, yes it was way too big a project and I didn’t finish it, but I truly think that working to juggle all that was very helpful to my later work.

I don’t write a lot of major crossovers anymore, but I tend to just... live in the idea that certain canons can feasibly coexist so when I can do little crossover cameos I like to do them. One recent exception is return to the sunlit lands, which is a Magicians/Narnia crossover.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not recently; a long time ago back on ff.net, I left a comment that was misunderstood as hate (I said something was bad, meaning the characters’ situation, but the author thought I meant her writing) and the author of that fic responded in kind. Once I clarified, they were nicer in a subsequent review. I’ve been very lucky in that regard; I’ve had friends who have had to deal with a lot of drama in that sense.

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I didn’t for a long time, but recently I’ve begun to! So far, it’s been m/m and f/f, though there was an intentionally-vague m/m/f scene and I’m... currently avoiding writing a more detailed one because I’m nervous as hell about it, lol.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, actually! Two of my older ASOIAF fics, All the Traveled Roads and I Will Not Fall, I Will Not Break have translations, which is just really neat to me.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

About ten years ago I was working on a joint project about modern day Tudors; never did get posted, alas. I’m not sure I’d be very well suited to co-writing a single story; co-writing a verse where different authors do different stories might work, though.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

God, I have no idea, but I still and always have strong feelings about Sam/Jack from Stargate SG1, so let’s go with that for longevity?

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

A Moment To Be Real, actually; it’s not so much that I want to finish it as that I know I won’t and I regret it. I have another verse that I probably won’t finish but one of these days I’ll at least post an outline of where I saw it going so that there will be some degree of closure. Pretty much every other fic has at least a faint chance I might go back to it, or I genuinely don’t want to.

What are your writing strengths?

Worldbuilding and handling the moving pieces of a canon divergent AU. I’ve also been told I’m pretty good with ensembles.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Action scenes, which is unfortunate when I find myself definitely needing to write a battle, and I suspect is part of my smut hang-ups too.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I have done it occasionally, but honestly I feel it’s usually easier to italicize English dialogue and put the other language in the narration - I think it’s probably easier to read, too.

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for?

Stargate SG1

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I couldn’t possibly pick one, really.

Tagging @theemightypen @cosmonauthill @jayneladybright @ofthedirewolves @portraitofemmy @nellie-elizabeth @mihrsuri

#kate writes fic #this took a while!

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likecastle · 3 years

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re: Witcher femslash: hi there! would you consider some Philippa/Tissaia for your witcher femslash prompts? Or even some Philippa/Tissaia/Yennefer? I'm truly obsessed with your wonderful fics!

OK, I’m not sure I really got Philippa right here, but I tried! Also, goddamn, Philippa/Tissaia/Yennefer is such a concept, but I’m going to have to give it some more thought. I just reread Blood of Elves and it feels like there’s something there, but I haven’t quite figured out how to get there. Maybe next time! Anyway, all of that is to say that I went for Philippa/Tissaia here. I hope I did it justice!

“For the last time,” Tissaia snaps, unable to contain her mounting annoyance, “Aretuza is not a training ground for one of your spy rings. Recruit all you want from the lecture halls of Oxenfurt and the laboratories of Ban Ard. My girls are here to study magic, not to waste their talents fighting for foolish kings.”

Philippa leans back against one of the long couches in Tissaia’s office, taking in Tissaia’s irritation with the same bored indifference as if she were watching the clouds move across the sky outside the open window behind Tissaia’s head. “And yet you have no objection to sending your girls off to serve in the courts of royal fools all over the Continent.”

“You know very well that we place graduates where they will be of the greatest use to the Chapter,” Tissaia replies between clenched teeth. Why does Philippa always manage to bring out the worst in her? Why does she end every conversation with the urge to sweep everything off her desk and scream like a first-year adept in the middle of a tantrum?

“Has anyone thought to mention that to Artorius Vigo, I wonder? Or Stregobor, perhaps?” Philippa drawls, a mocking smile playing at the corners of her lips.

“Of course there are those who will strive to advance their own aims.” Tissaia can hear her voice rising, her temper slipping further out of her control. “But we must trust we are all ultimately united in serving the Brotherhood’s aims, or else there is no point in maintaining our alliance at all!”

Philippa gives her a pitying look, and Tissaia’s anger flares hotter still. “You’re so close to apprehending the problem, Tissaia, it’s almost a wonder that you’ve managed to miss it.”

Tissaia takes a deep breath, trying one last time to reign in her anger. “Our priority must be what is in the best interest of magic, Philippa. Surely you can see that anything less is a distraction.”

“And you think magic is not my priority?” Philippa asks.

The infuriating woman—as if there could be any doubt when she and Dijkstra spend their days pulling the strings of Redania’s court like a pair of merry puppeteers. “If it is,” she retorts, “your dalliance with Dijkstra certainly does a good job of concealing the fact!” Tissaia regrets it as soon as she says it, but it’s too late to take it back.

But far from being offended, Philippa seems amused. “Ah,” she says, smirk crossing her stern and lovely face, “now, I see, we’ve struck at the heart of the matter at last.”

Tissaia clenches her jaw, but says nothing. She should know better than to dig herself any deeper.

The smile on Philippa’s lips widens. It’s not a pleasant expression—Philippa is not in the habit of doing things to please others, which makes her beauty all the more fearsome to behold. “I wouldn’t have expected this of you, Tissaia, I must say.” She unfolds herself from her reclining position on the couch, planting her feet on the floor and leaning forward to study Tissaia with keen attention. “You, who always holds herself so high above the fray.”

“Better than debasing myself for men who are so obviously below me,” Tissaia says, unable to prevent herself from saying it.

“Yes,” Philippa says slowly, rising from the couch. “I suppose that’s true.” She walks slowly around the table, though Tissaia thinks it would be more correct to say she stalks towards her. “Dijkstra is a canny strategist, you must give him that, but in the end he’ll never truly be my equal. Still, he has his uses. Although . . .” She stops half a step away from Tissaia’s chair, and pauses, as if considering a philosophical question. “. . . in my experience, there isn’t much men can offer that women like us can’t manage on our own.”

Tissaia can feel the back of her chair cutting into her shoulders, she’s pressed against it so hard—as if Philippa were exerting some great pressure on her entire body. She feels rooted to the spot, struck silent by anticipation.

“You can act as if you’re better than me because you don’t get those lovely hands of yours dirty,” Philippa says, the mocking smile in her voice almost too much to bear, “but I think you’d jump at the chance to take a risk you hadn’t cross-referenced in seven different sources first.”

With another one of her dangerous smiles, Philippa leans forward, bracing her hands on the back of Tissaia’s chair. The smell of her—something crisp and clear as the scent of cold night air—envelops Tissaia as she closes in, and Tissaia squeezes her thighs together. Philippa chuckles low in the back of her throat like Tissaia has just proved her point, and says, “You don’t lock yourself up in this tower because you’re above it all. You want it so badly you can’t trust what you would do if you had it.”

When she leans in to capture Tissaia’s mouth with her own, Tissaia’s back arches, and a moan works its way out from somewhere deep inside her. She feels dizzied just by the touch of Philippa’s lips, all her anger turning molten at her core.

“Admit it,” Philippa says between kisses. “Tell me what I want to hear—” She transfers her attention to Tissaia’s throat, and Tissaia’s thighs fall open by reflex, heat rushing through her. “—and I’ll give you everything you want.”

Tissaia throws back her head, panting hard. She reaches out to grasp a handful of Philippa’s glossy, dark hair, and pulls her back up to kiss her once more. She leans into the velvet pressure of Philippa’s lips and says, “No.”

Before Tissaia can blink, the air shifts between them and Philippa is gone. She breaths in the cool scent of the forest at night and listens to the owl’s wings beating their retreat behind her.

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lovecanbesostrange · 3 years

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#the whole show is a lot but this episode is a lot and then some Dude, I'm still processing it all to this day. So much. The Ruby content: confirmed bi, True Loves Kiss, nicknames, grumpy-allies-to friends-to-lovers in under five minutes, suspicious battle bros bromance with Mulan; The Red Snow content: Snow instantly knowing Ruby likes the girl, (yet not recognizing her wolf form when it arrives in the Underworld wtf), then Snow insisting on Ruby saying the words out loud, Snow witnessing the kiss;

THE RED QUEEN CONTENT: REGINA USING RUBY TO THREATHNEN PEOPLE, RUBY GOING ALONG WITH IT, REGINA SMILING TO RUBY, RUBY SMILING TO REGINA, LOOKING AT EACH OTHER, STANDING BY EACH OTHER SIDES , I—

TRUTH! Like Ruby Slippers had so much it could have lasted for half a season! Ruby’s and Dorothy’s scenes play out all the tropes. From the meet cute with a crossbow to bickering to soul-secret confessions to nIcKnAmEs to accidentally brushing fingers with A LOOK and then “do you trust me” which lead to Dorothy riding Ruby the first time (probably not the last and also later on in different ways). They are two idiots in love where Dorothy is all “you can’t get hurt, let me too a stupid thing”. And Ruby is “damn, she did a stupid thing and now I will chase the witch myself to get her back, wow, I’m in the underworld, nevermind.”

Interlude: WHY EVEN IS RUBY A WEREWOLF IN UNDERBROOKE? It is their version of day out. And it’s implied she will turn as soon as the cloak is off. HALLO? CAN WE TALK ABOUT THIS? Is this “All Dogs go to Heaven”? Will she be a wolf after death??? What even are werewolf rules? (Not complaining that much, because that is all the permission I need to play with werewolf rules however I see fit for any headcanon or fic. *blessed with nonsensical worldbuilding*)

Oh and Snow. What a good friend she is, even though they haven’t talk in years by now. Of course she gets it and she is so instantly all over Red, it makes my heart happy. Concerned from end to beginning and coercing her into coming out, because LOVE. And even though the ball was dropped so hard, my believe in this friendship ascends me to the heavens. Everything from the good old pre-curse days these two went through together off-screen was a big adventure. Isn’t it beautiful how supportive Snow is?

And then after just meeting we get the big TRUE LOVE’S KISS wake-up call. (Hallo, Mulan, sorry, Mulan. Here we brought you new curtains for your home in the closet, we can’t let the queerblind hets know, they still think you loved Philip, only careful pronoun use for you around your buddy Ruby.)

Special shoutout to my favorite bit. Because they could have left it at the TLK and rainbow cursebreak. But no, at least they let our girls go for it and gave them a make out session in front of all the munchkins! Those little perverts...

So, there’s a lot, what to casually sprinkle on top? OH RIGHT HOW ABOUT REGINA TAKES CHARGE AND WE LET THE WITCH AND THE WEREWOLF DO A GOOD COP BAD COP ROUTINE EXCEPT THEY ARE BOTH MEAN BITCHES WHO TAKE NO PRISONERS?! Regina has her Zelena moments blabla, but also she looks out for Red and stops with the dog jokes, because she cares now?? (Well, she dreamed about Ruby tying her to a tree one time, sorry now you missed your chance, Madame Mayor? Girl is getting hitched!)

How even was there time for scenes with Hades and Belle and Zelena????? HOW?? They had to kill Auntie Em, have a flying monkey attack, Ruby getting three heart-to-heart talks in, Charming and Hook found a way to get not-pregnant Snow home and Henry wrote femslash in the end.

I can’t process all that happened. Ruby Slippers is the Tardis of tv episodes, so much bigger on the inside. Overstuffed even. No wonder it’s a trainwreck. And I can’t look away but play in the rusty ruins of it till this very day. Glorious.

#konako #OUaT #Ruby Lucas #appreciation life #this is an episode that exists and we were all different people afterwards

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veridium · 4 years

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fuck it, queer meta.

About a year ago I wrote one of my first and largest meta posts about why I consider Cassandra a prime example of queerbaiting despite her being a character who explicitly says she is heterosexual. This lead to quite the day of inbox hate mail from people throughout the fandom. Most were upset I used the “q slur” and left it untagged as such in the big DA meta tags. I can imagine for those folks, the substance of what I had to say mattered little as a result.

I deleted most of those messages and my responses soon afterward. They upset me greatly even as I took it all in stride. However, given that it’s been about 365 days since that fiasco, and some interesting events have happened with regards to current and former DA writers, I thought it would be “fun” to write a recap and reflection on why, generally, I still feel the way I did when I wrote that post. With some changes and growth, of course.

The gist of it is, as we have come to learn in past, recent, and ongoing discourses in fandom, that much to the chagrin of a lot of folks in this fandom: BioWare, and in this instance DA writers, are not your SJW Icons. Furthermore, they never should have been, or should be, considered as such.

The gist (part two) for me, is: for as much as diverse characters, worlds, and societies are being uplifted by Games these days, the counterbalance of bullshit is still there. And I think it survives most sturdily in the kind of logic the BioWare writing culture throughout the years. This sense of egalitarian, “of course” logic, that appears to make socially deviant identities normalized but really just falsely positions those identities as meant to be in lock-step with the norm. Representation to gaming, and most of media writ large, all-too-easily falls into the trap of “we want what the privileged have,” which it to say, we want our existence to be a no-brainer, even if it means we lost the essence of why our stories are so profound, important, and necessary to do justice.

I really can’t imagine accepting the way characters like Cassandra were written because I don’t accept the writer(s) who wrote her. Why?

Come with me, and we’ll be, in a world, of pure fuckery...but with citations...because I’m an Academic and that’s my roll.*

*Please see tags for pertinent content warnings before clicking.**

**if you reblog and tag this shit with “q slur,” I will take all the reserves of understanding I have as a DA fic writer for all of the enraged womxn in the series and express it accordingly. And, as a femslash-oriented author, I can promise you: that expression will be consumptive.

Hm, I wonder, what with the predominant writer for her character inquires on Twitter for “lesbian fanfic porn” recommendations for writing “research,” but seems to be unable to hire appropriate creatives to write, consult, etc. for the project.

Or that the writers room made, and continues to make, space for a writer who continually does Black and queer characters dirty with his mediocre-at-best work, in both game and novel form (because, plot twist, he’s a shit writer) (1) (2) (3).

Or that the writer’s room, and specifically Ga*der, attesting that the development of the Qunari was based on Arab cultures around the time of “Medieval Europe,” which is somehow his way of getting out of the thematic botching of the Qunari language, social structure, etc. from Islamic tradition.

Or, the writers who intentionally shaped the story so that Vivienne, one of the limited number of Black women characters in the entire series to have a role as an ally, to be a red herring of an distrustful and conceited antagonist, to the point where her treatment by fandom has been incredibly racist, heinous, and lazy for years.

These are a few of MANY reasons, with thorough exposition, why the veneer of “progressive inclusion” studios like BioWare claim to be authentic. Having “diverse” writers in the room -- and I’m using that word incredibly tenuously here -- didn’t change the result of any of these harmful scenarios. In fact, it created them. This, combined with the tale as old as time: toxic fandom culture with white, anglo-centric, cisheterosexual masculinist ideals at the fore, have gotten us here.

So, do I hold all of the reasons why I am angry about Cassandra’s character writing the same way now, as I did then? No. Certainly not. In fact, there are parts where I would correct myself. On the other hand, the thesis for me remains largely preserved: I revile G*ider, I revile that he gets the accolades he does by fandom for his “diversity” of characters when he exploits, erases, and uses slippery morality to get out of admitting he has shortcomings in his work. I hate that the exaltation for representation still funnels itself onto the heads of white writers and predominantly white-staffed studios.

And, underneath it all, I am mad that some of ya’ll see no problem with that. Because what does it matter, if you do not come from communities, cultures, and coalitions that get the brunt of this misrepresentation? What does it matter if it angers a lesbian fan that the writers who have a long history of misusing and conveniently copping themselves out when they write women and queer characters, seem to use that “expertise” as permission to do what they are supposedly combating?

G*ider, the hero himself, is on written record saying that it should not be second guessed as to why Cassandra is straight, just as he thinks it should not be second guessed that Dorian is gay. Yet, when he asked on Twitter if there was some moral significance to people modding character’s sexuality (in this specific instance, Dorian, actually), G*ider said that in the end, people’s mods “do not change” what he wrote, and that unless they claim their changes “supercede” canon, there’s no harm done.

So, really, I’m just over here like -- is this ya’lls hero?

Why in the fuck would someone be modding a gay character to be bisexual or heterosexual, if they didn’t somehow believe that version “supercedes” the canon rendition? Secondly, where is the attention to the fact that, in an ensemble of multiple romanceable characters, Dorian has to be the one that has to be sexually and romantically accessible to those outside of his canonical realm of attraction?

I mean, for fuck’s sake, it’s the whole virtue grounding his companion side quest, the fact that he is estranged from his Father who tried to magically change his orientation! This is a crucial part of Dorian’s entire journey to serving the Inquisition, and serving Tevinter as a dissident.

But, you know, it doesn’t change what G*ider wrote. And he’s correct, it doesn’t change what he wrote, which he got credit, money, and esteem for. It doesn’t change that if you load up the base game, Dorian’s gay. In G*ider’s head, that is the protective force: the parts where he has ties, and not the culture of the fandom, the culture the fans who helped fill his pockets from that game have to dwell within. This isn’t revolutionary, this isn’t good-faith representation. This is getting a piece of the rotten-sweet pie and saying “let bygones be bygones, you toxic, funky heteronormative assholes!”

But, where are my manners. I’m getting heated, aren’t I?

Basically, if you condemn queer fans for calling out queer bating -- or any marginalized fan for throwing up the alarm for bullshit -- and your first reaction is to side with folks like G*ider who got theirs and said screw everything else, fuck off. Literally, fuck off. I call Cassandra’s circumstance queerbaiting because she’s one example of writers getting their cake and eating it, too. If they are so aware of just how much of their fanbase is marginalized folks, they don’t get to say they don’t have fingerprints on things like queerbaiting. You don’t get to be acclaimed and excused for the shit you say you are combating, which is the source of that acclaim. And if your claim is happy ignorance, then you definitely don’t get to blithely equivocate when fans do ask you why the story happened the way it did.

I also just want to keep in mind here that there’s a deductive conclusion to be had about this, given how La*idlaw explicitly stated they endeavored to make Cassandra extremely hot, “really enticing.” That conclusion is:

(1) Either they aren’t/weren’t nearly as attuned to their queer audiences as they generally claim to be, or

(2) They were, and had no intention of developing compassion or empathy passed G*ider talking out of his ass about why Cassandra was developed as straight. Which, ultimately, does coincide with conclusion (1) more than not.

No matter what, the contour to the conclusion is: wow, a taste of nauseating objectification, in the BioWare writer’s room. Who knew!

It’s no wild accusation to make to a writer like him and his colleagues, that they don’t know how to handle sapphic, wlw, and/or queer-related storylines, especially with women. Especially when the answer seems to be, “well, it was decided before I took the lead, and in any case, why question it! You wouldn’t question a gay character’s orientation!”

But that’s just it, you complete and utter turnip. People did question Dorian’s sexuality. People do question Dorian’s sexuality. That fantasy world of equal bearings is as insincere as it is out-of-touch. And why not, when, as you said,

it doesn’t change what you got paid for.

The ethos seems to be crudely reflexive: people’s phobic interpretations and alterations of the canon do not matter, but then again, why would you even question why a character is straight? Why would you question my narrative vision, in all of its beautiful shittery?

It’s all a game of dodge, ya’ll. Dodge, dodge, dodge. With a strong and acidic dose of vanity.

So. In summation, folks: I could care less for your false equivalences. I could care less about my contribution of queer content fucking up your good time in the meta tags. Obviously you aren’t there to actually engage in creative, exploratory thought, so why bother reasoning. There is more to the possibilities of queerbaiting than stringing along a could-be, would-be, should-be queer storyline directly. There’s knowing your audience enough to exploit your good graces with them. There’s benefitting from a charade of liberal progressive clout. There’s the ability to foresee that queer people will cathect to a given character, and not only denying an experience they could have, but denying it so harshly that the character says they can’t love yours because you’re female.

And I am so, so, so sick of these people continually enriching themselves off of the “nobody’s perfect” grace. To me, that grace is the promise of good faith, and the intention to do right by people. When that isn’t there, the grace isn’t going somewhere where it’ll be appreciated, that it will be nourished by. I mean, fucking hell, people, this is rainbow capitalism: don’t you taste it?

That’s that, then. “Cassandra and Queerbaiting Rant,” one year on. An extra dose of salt, just for the haters.

#da meta #cassandra and queerbaiting rant #one year reflection?#yeah #so #queerbaiting #cassandra pentaghast #bioware critical #bioware bullshit #cw: lesbophobia #cw: homophobia #cw: queerphobia #cw: discussion of Dorian's experiences with his family

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qrbie · 4 years

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The Masterlist

Hey. I know it’s been ages since my last fic rec, but my motivation is slowly building again and I think I’m going to have a big one coming up soon. Meanwhile, I tossed a ton onto @0nceuponafanfic, so she might have something brewing for y’all. Anyways, I’ve been updating this thing, so if you ever need a pile to fall back on when I’m MIA, here you go!

Please tell me if I’m missing something, like a trigger warning or a link to someone’s Tumblr. Also don’t be afraid to rec me your favorite fics or even your own fics! I wanna see them. If you want to request fic recs, I’m open for those too! Even if you don’t have fics or even a specific purpose, come to my inbox and mess around. I’m bored and want human interaction.

‘allo people! yeah yeah yeah It’s been AGES since the last update so I’mma dump some new fics into here soon. I’m also gonna fix up the organization a bit. so sayonara and see ya later!

As always, stay hydrated!

Happy pride, everyone!

Last updated 6/23

1-Chapter bits of fluff or angst or something else

one hell of a hook | A TodoBaku fic... but don’t let that drive you away! This is an amazing fic, so please give it a try before you judge.

Mafia Au | What if Present Mic was a yakuza boss and Aizawa was a spy? (There’s a lot more to this, including a lot more art, over at @nartothelar‘s blog)

UA Music Conservatory | a series of one-shots in an AU where UA is actually a music school.

Silent Shadow | has the potential to evolve into something bigger. Nomu!Midoriya is Kurogiri’s protege. So cool.

Present Mic’s Awesome Mixtape 2.0 | Aizawa doesn’t like any kind of music. Shocking, right? After discovering this, Yamada has a new goal. Find a type of music Aizawa likes.

cultivating something so divine | Vet!Kiribaku, with so much fluff and animals and mutual pining that even the hardest of hearts can be softened.

The story of how Midoriya Izuku won the Sport Festival | I love a good dose of Crack Treated Seriously, and here’s some.

Trash Goblin Finds Love | “Bakugou. This is the gayest thing I’ve ever seen.”

president of the krbk club | Whenever something exciting happens, what does Midoriya do? Whip out his notebooks, of course. So what happens when Bakugou isn’t pushing Kirishima away?

It's Hard to Get Past Some Things | Whenever Midoriya’s drunk, Todoroki’s his designated caretaker. What happens when drunk Midoriya decides to talk about kids (or pups, whatever)? (A/B/O)

it's just the little things | Bakugou’s interactions over the years (stealing from the official summary here)

The Knock-On Effect | There’s only a couple types of knocks that Bakugou likes. Kirishima’s knocks in the middle of the night are one of them.

Smile for me, would you? | Unlike the rest of us, Present Mics has goals, and actually follows through with them. This goal? Make his neighbor, Shouta Aizawa, smile.

Shadowed Soul, Electric Eyes (We'll Be Okay) | What if Tokoyami and Kaminari, people with completely different quirks, got quirk-swapped?

A Matter of Pride | How everyone in BNHA came out. That’s it. It’s so fluffy, though.

firedancer | Unlike the rest of these, this one has the tiniest bit of angst. So little you’d need a microscope, though. Whenever someone falls in love, romantically, platonically, or any other way, a flower appears on their skin. Kirishima has a ton of flowers, but where are Bakugou’s?

A Mile in New Shoes (and A Mile Too Far) | Artist!Bakugou is invited to his first house party... Luckily he has three guys showing him around.

Boy things | Ashido loves her friends, but sometimes it gets lonely being the only girl in the Bakusquad. Good thing they understand!

come home to me | Kiribaku might’ve gotten a telepathic connection... There’s so much fluff in this one!

one to ten | Kirishima wants to date Bakugou, but he’s gotta climb the ladder of friendship first!

Get Mad! | Bakugou teaches Eri how to cope, and Eri returns the favor.

bakugatsu | Yeah, I know this is 20 chapters long, but it’s basically 20 drabbles compiled together by the amazing wonhaebunny!

a mix of six | Probably my favorite series of all time, no matter the fandom. What happens when Aizawa and Hizashi adopt Bakugou, Todoroki, Shinsou and Eri?

KiriBaku Week 2020 | A series by PoorUnfortunateSoul - full of fluff!

Safety In Numbers | A little bit of fluff and a lot of parental Erasermic.

Multi-chapter Stories

How To Get Adopted Without Letting Your Dad Know He's Adopting You, A Guide By Class 1-A | Good old fashioned school fluff. (WIP)

Dandelion | No masterlist is complete without at least one fic from the legendary Broken Realities, right? So here’s @owlf45‘s fic... (there’s a lot more! Check out the Broken Realities Collection on Ao3 for at least some of them... I bet there’s a lot more floating around.) (WIP)

Phosphenes | A Naruto/BNHA crossover, Mina is reborn from Naruto, and learns to navigate life even with such a big burden on her shoulders. (WIP)

Flour Power | Kirishima and Bakugou are supposed to take care of a sack of flour for a school project. What could go wrong?

Not really a villain, but close enough | “Aizawa didn't expect the raid to go so well. he didn't expect the informant to be so useful and well-mannered. who was hi kidding? Aizawa didn't expect the informant to be a kid. but the green-eyed boy cuffed to the interrogation table was wiling to help, and Aizawa wasn't one to look the gift horse in the mouth“ (WIP)

green haze | Vigilante!Midoriya is known as the Green Haze, a vigilante, Eraserhead’s supposed to capture. Shenanigans happen.

2am Knows All Secrets | One of those classic Kiribaku fics that trickle through the ranks. Lots of fluff, with good ol’ tropes like sharing a bed and mutual pining and Good Friends, and-it’s great.

The life of a hero | Such a good series. It’s so amazing. It gives angst and pain but then soothes it over with fluff, but then it tears you apart... and then it gives you life... a great read.

The Last Resort | This is basically pure angst. It’s so painful, but it’s such a good story... Shinsou was sold as a young child to a yakuza. This yakuza would rent out people for their quirks... This is an amazing read, but don’t expect any fluff from this. (Check the tags! WIP)

¥300 Shampoo | When Aizawa’s working on a book at the cafe, he certainly doesn’t expect someone pulling his hair. He definitely doesn’t expect getting a free haircut out of it, either.

quote love unquote | Take the official summary “When Kirishima Eijirou's band hits the big time, he's not prepared for his newfound fame. He's even less prepared to meet the actor he's been crushing on for years, or to start dating him as a publicity stunt. The closer Kirishima gets to Bakugou Katsuki, the more he realizes he's in over his head. But it's hard to stop, once his heart is in it.”

lovin is easy | Blasty doesn’t get “feelings,” so here’s five times Bakugou doesn’t get love and one time he does. (WIP)

The Empath & The Mind Reader | Bakugou is a mind reader, and Kirishima is a empath. If both of them can literally know what the other person’s feeling/thinking, why are they still dancing around each other? (WIP, Contains smut, Anxiety attacks)

and finally I see the world in color (the violet stands out, thanks to you) | This fic deserves a LOT more than just 76 kudos. Sometimes people miss out on amazing fics just because it’s a femslash. Momojirou, where Yaoyaorozu is a businesslady who is bored with her life and everything else, until she happens upon the rambunctious band Dark Shadow. Seriously, please read this! (WIP)

Behind The Scenes | A KiriBaku actor AU. What happens when you start falling for your co-star - and your on-screen love interest? (WIP, It’s rated E for smut, but there isn’t any yet)

We Didn't Start the Fire | What if Touya decided to make something out of himself instead of becoming a villain? This is amazing, by the way. (WIP)

it seems i'm never letting go | Here’s how I summarized it to myself... “Koi no yokan... will Blasty experience it? (His sister left)” By the way, koi no yokan is basically love at first sight, Japanese-style. (WIP)

Lips Like Blood | What happens when Bakugou, a mage, falls in love with the one person who can’t love him back? (WIP)

Charm Me, Loser | A Hogwarts AU that has no right being that ingenius and amazing. My only problem with it is sorta small... There’s already a wizarding school in Japan... Why aren’t they going there? (WIP)

Gotta Get Away | Tsuyu and Bakugou are out getting some new hero merch together because of the new buddy system at UA. What happens when they’re mistaken for a couple? (WIP)

Opposed to the Typical | A fashion AU. This is ridiculously good. It feels like the author was actually in the Japanese fashion industry! (WIP, smut, past child abuse, mental health issues)

One Day at a Time | Pretty genius idea, actually. Bakugou and Uraraka are trapped in what is essentially a time-speeder-upper. What’s going to be a day for their classmates is going to be a year for them. What will they do in that year together? (WIP, it’s rated Mature but it’s pretty innocent so far)

The UA Quarantine Collection | Basically, a bunch of authors got together and made a ton of one-shots of what Class 1A is doing in quarentine. Technically it isn’t a coherent story, but I’m counting it as one. There’s two versions, a clean version and a version with all the smutty bits. The smutty one’s the second story in the series. This one’s linked to the clean one. (WIP)

Midoriya Fuckin' Izuku | This is an amazing fic! It has a ton of TWs, though. Make sure to read the tags before starting it! (WIP)

Seeing Double | A very good, and very long, fantasy AU. (WIP, smut)

Broken, but Still Good | Bakugou was rescued, after four years, from an illegal alpha fighting ring. Can Kirishima, a beta, help him back to society? Pay attention to the tags. (WIP, A/B/O)

Broken Wings | Kirishima’s a dragon who was rescued from the dragon slave trade by the mysterious Bakugou Katsuki, I don’t know what else to say. (WIP)

The Roast of Class 2-A | Have a crackfic. (WIP)

The Space Between | Midoriya’s a photojournalist who is just starting out. One fateful night, he goes to photograph the Antiheros in concert. (WIP, mild smut)

A Fissile Family | Bakugou’s been kidnapped by the League of Villains again. They’re actually sorta a weird family. (WIP)

Mochi Mochi | Just take the official summary. “Ochako never saw a problem with DM-ing an internationally known actor her grocery lists, absolutely certain that he'd never see them. That is—until he replies. And who the hell does he think he is to tell her mochi isn't real food?”

Green as the Leaves, and Red as a Rose | A TodoDeku flower shop AU. (WIP)

remember my name | Post-UA, Bakugou realizes that some things are for forever.

Blinding Shapes | What happens when soulmates, a blind abstract artist and a burnt out barista meet?

a heart swelled to bursting | Mind the tags, here. Training camp part 2 for Class 2A. (WIP)

manly man falls for manliest man | What happens when businessman!Kirishima meets his idol, and maybe biggest celebrity crush ever, actor!Bakugou? (Smut)

Miscellaneous Stuff From Other Fandoms

I have some Harry Potter fics lying around somewhere, so I’m going to add those later.

Stucco Hearts | One of my absolute favorite soulmate fics ever, from Percy Jackson.

Christmas and Chill | A old series I sorta just came across again from PJO.

The Florist and the Punk | Maybe another old series from PJO.

Hearts Need Love | Keep an eye on the tags! This is my favorite PJO fic of all time.

Our Songs | It’s good if I spent half an hour trying to find it again. It’s a Solangelo songfic.

Some random writers I recommend (A lot more coming along-I’m in the middle of a ton of different fics right now)

aloneintherain | @captainkirkk

wonhaebunny | @wonhaebunny

rosedvst

Sif (Rosae) | @intothedarknessigo

kiritime

sinderellaa

aloera | @aloera

Argentina | @junepixel

KuriKuri | @letaizawarest

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