#i have gotten several thousand words into like 5 new fics in the last 3 months too in which they have simply tapered off

[naivety]

well maybe i am inacpable of finishing a single youtube video did you ever think of that

[galadrieljones]

Author Interview

Thanks for the tag, @littlelindentree ^_^ Happy New Year!

1. how many works do you have on AO3?

20

2. what's your total AO3 word count?

981,132

3. what fandoms do you write for?

I have written for Dragon Age: Inquisition, Red Dead Redemption 2, Horizon: Zero Dawn, The Last of Us, and The Walking Dead

4. what are your top five fics by kudos?

The Lily Farm (Arthur Morgan x Mary Beth Gaskill, RDR2)

That he may hold me by the hand (Arthur Morgan x Albert Mason, RDR2)

The Dead Season (Solavellan, DAI)

Magnolia (Bethyl, TWD)

Yours, Sadie Adler. (Sadithur, RDR2)

5. do you respond to comments?

Yes, as often as I can. Sometimes, I forget on older fics. I'm sorry about that. If someone is rude to me in the comments though, I will respond rudely!

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably Teen Wolf. It's a story collection so the ending isn't really "true," but it's the end of Solas and Ghilan'nain's love story, in my mind. It's sad and bittersweet, as in the story, they are talking about building a house on the back acreage of Solas's mother's property, but I envision the very next day as being the day that Andruil invades the Weathers, kidnapping both Ghilan'nain and Solas's mother Leanathy, and beginning the Great War. In the ensuing days, Andruil's men leave Solas for dead, and when he wakes up, he goes to Mythal and begs her to free his mother in exchange for his loyalty. She accepts, rescuing and protecting Leanathy in her Blue Palace, and Solas becomes her Bodyguard. Eventually, he is elevated to her General, then he becomes her lover. During the war, after Ghilan'nain's betrayal, the Evanuris murder Mythal, and Solas, out of vengeance and grief, builds the veil and imprisons them all, including Mythal's soul, which would, over time, resurrect into her body, using special magic taught to her by Solas's mother many thousands of years before.

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Well, most of my long fics are unfinished. I'm sorry about that. I think that The Dead Season has a happy ending. So does Yours, Sadie Adler., thought it is bittersweet.

8. do you get hate on fics?

Not tons at all. I have gotten a few rude commenters over the years, mainly people being weirdly critical of my writing style in ways that are, frankly, moronic, and also some people who just want me to write more smut. But I don't write much smut anymore, and I don't think fics need smut to be worthy or interesting. If you only want a smut fic, you probably won't like my writing. Remember that tags exist so that you can see what you're getting into before you crack the first chapter!!!!

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind?

Lol. Speaking of. I used to write much more. It was never the overly explicit kind and I didn't have any specific kinks I liked to explore, but I wrote a lot of it for DAI and RDR2. I still write sex scenes for sure, it's just that they tend to be character driven.

10. do you write crossovers? what's the craziest one you've written?

I have never written a real crossover; however, I do have some crossover characters in The Lily Farm. In the later chapters, I have two main characters who are taken from other texts: Woodrow Call from Lonesome Dove and LaBoeuf from True Grit. Both are Texas Rangers, and in my fic, they owe Dutch a few rather large favors. They help Arthur and Mary Beth on the river boat job, which goes terribly wrong. They also help break John out of federal prison. They are two of my favorite characters in the fic.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of. I've had plenty of art stolen over the years and I don't even keep track anymore. Mainly it just gets reposted without credit on like, Pinterest. Oh well!

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I know of! But I am amenable.

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

I don't think so!

14. what's your all-time favourite ship?

I have several though Bethyl and Solavellan are probably tied for first.

15. what's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

The Lily Farm. In truth there's not a ton left to write. But it's been 84 years like I don't even remember the geography of the game. I would have to replay RDR2, at least through chapter 4. I also wish I could finish Zero, my Niloy fic for HZD. I still think about them, and I still occasionally get really really nice comments on that fic. I honestly wish I could finish all my old fics. Like That he may hold, which also has maybe one closing chapter left to write. I wish I could finish As You Were, too, my TLOU fic, just so that I can save Joel's life, and as a big fuck you to Neil Druckmann.

16. what are your writing strengths?

I'm not sure. Pacing has probably always been my greatest strength.

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

Overwriting, getting bored. My issue is often that I start a fic with modest goals but then those goals get bigger and bigger as I go, and I can't help myself. Then, I eventually get bored and I don't finish. I view fanfic as a way for authors to express themselves and their hyperfixations in the moment. I think that the quality of being "unfinished" is, in an of itself, conventional to fanfiction; however, I still view my general lack of focus as a weakness.

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Don't translate it. Just put it there. If your reader cares enough and doesn't know the translation, they'll look it up. If they don't care enough to do this, then they're not your target audience. The internet makes this sort of thing very easy.

19. first fandom you wrote for?

Technically it's the boyband fandom (*NSync and Backstreet Boys, mainly) in like 1998, but in actuality, it's Dragon Age: Inquisition in 2016.

20. favourite fic you've written?

Probably Yours, Sadie Adler. It feels the most complete, and I still don't know how I managed to write that fic so quickly, when I was like three weeks postpartum with my second baby, and with very little revision. It just flowed out of me, like it was already written in my mind, and all I had to do was type it out. I have received some really lovely comments on it over the years. It seems to affect people deeply, which makes me very happy, because it came from a very raw place in my heart.

I will tag @thevikingwoman @bearlytolerant @roguelioness @gneebee @shallow-gravy @a-shakespearean-in-paris @pipergirl17 @sasusc and @im-immortal <3

[goingsparebutwithprecision]

Fic writer interview

Thanking @sinni-ok-sessi for the tag!

How many works do you have on AO3? 13

What's your total AO3 word count? 50455 - holy shit, a whole nanowrimo!

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Sleeping Arrangements (Good Omens) Habitual (Good Omens) Project New Hope (MCU) Passing the Time (Star Trek:DS9) With Friends Like These (Star Wars, The Mandalorian)

I think I kind of already knew about the top 3, but I would not have called the last two. Nice to see With Friends LIke These doing well, that was so much fun to write but I never felt like it found its audience, y'know

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Mostly not, alas - it feels very awkward to just repeatedly say Thanks <3, however genuinely and enthusiastically I would mean that! I want emoji reacts to AO3 comments, that's about the level I'm at. That being said, I'll try to make the effort if someone's written me an essay, because it's so cool to get that and I've had some really fun conversations that way

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? I don't really do angsty endings. I've been known to write angsty fic, but I'm usually ending on an upswing...Story-Wise is probably the closest, being as how it's heavily implied that everybody involved is dead, and also Bilbo walks away at the end, but even that to me is more bittersweet than angsty.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending? Not Story-Wise, and probably not Lethe. But with the rest I don't know that there's much between them. The ship ones tend to end with a get-together, the dealing-with-shit ones tend to end on a found family gathering, and the funny ones end on punchlines; they're all happy but no stand-outs, if that makes sense.

Do you write crossovers? Write? Sure. Plan out intricately and in great detail? Absolutely. Finish? Never in my life. I tend to have the idea for a lot of crossovers too, but very few of those ever get started. Off the top of my head, the current list includes a Star Trek AOS/Disney's Atlantis fusion, thousands of words of BBC Merlin is happening in Starfleet now, a few incoherent sentences of post-Burial Mounds Wei Wuxian having absorbed all of its ghosts a la Matthew Swift of Blue Electric Angels fame, three scenes of Person of Interest and Castle, several pages of Phryne Fisher and Diana Prince are besties - ohhhhh, and my beloved "Oh Good, My Sith Found the Chainsaw" Star Wars/Lilo and Stitch nonsense, which is the only one of these I have any intention of finishing.

Have you ever received hate on a fic? Not as far as I remember. The closes I ever got was someone commenting on Project New Hope in a very "trying to start a fight about MCU Civil War" way, but claiming they agreed with my opinion on it despite MCU Civil War very much not happening in that universe. Very odd.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Not really? The closest I've gotten in anything published is the blowjob letter in And With It My Constant Mind, which is more of an extended sext, and the ending of Untitled #3...the theme seems to be Cyrano De Bergerac and blowjobs, so make of that what you will.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not as far as I know

Have you ever had a fic translated? No.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Involves too much unfortunate-ordeal-of-being-known, I'm afraid. I'm in awe of people who do this though, the process mystifies me.

What’s your all-time favorite ship? I am invoking my god-given bisexual right not to choose. I cannot do it. Simply impossible. Cyrano/Christian/Roxane of Cyrano de Bergerac fame is probably a front-runner though.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? Lin Chen's Hanahaki Research Project - I was having a lot of fun with character voices and style, and it was challenging me as a writer in interesting ways, but I think it needs more research and investment and full Nirvana in Fire rewatches than I'm ever going to commit to.

What are your writing strengths? Comedy, yearning, and sentences that sound good when you read them aloud.

What are your writing weaknesses? Actually finishing things and comedy (I contain multitudes)

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? Absolutely do not have the confidence to do that, thank you and good night.

What was the first fandom you wrote for? By published work, the MCU, unpublished I was not immune to Supernatural

What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to? Was not expecting this to be the trickiest one to answer, what the heck. Ummm. Idk. I get more enthused by specific ideas than by specific fandoms, I think - if I actively want to write for something it's because I've been Seized By An Idea(TM), Taken Hostage By An Idea, Had My Whole Brain Rewritten To Think Constantly About This Idea, rather than like abstractly, huh, it would be fun to write something for X

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? I-love-all-of-my-children-equally.gif. No, that's a cop-out. Um. Usually I think whatever I've written most recently gets the most affection, so With Friends Like These is bang at the top. And With It My Constant Mind I suspect is going to have the most longevity at the top of my list, I was living with that one for years and I'm really really proud of how it turned out.

Right, no pressure tagging @starkey @missfangirll @july-19th-club @ereborne and any other writerly folks lurking out there who are interested :D

[lilacline001]

When do you think chapter 11 is gonna be ready? No pressure tho, I love your fic sm

Okay, so here's a Nocturne update. In total, there should be 5 arcs roughly 5 chapters each. Arc 1 and 2 are complete, and with Chapter 11, we will begin arc 3. The fic in total might be up to 120k words.

My goal is to again shoot for an update every two weeks. However, I'll try to be more responsive when things aren't going well and/or I'm taking a break.

Moving forward, I will update my Bio with percentage progress on the next chapter. This will be a rough estimate, but it'll be better than nothing. Also, please remember that Nocturne chapters are generally massive, so yeah something like 10% would be several hundred words, 50% a couple thousand. I do not want to start posting about progress, that will give me a complex. So it will be up to interested parties to check my bio for updates.

In general, if its been two weeks and a few days after the last posting, feel free to harass me - within reason. Everyone's been awesome and super kind, but I don't want to give people blanket freedom to get on my back. Sometimes things are going well and I want to spend time with people instead of writing alone (writing can be really lonely) and then other times things are going poorly and drinking water is an accomplishment

Also, something that helped my block recently was writing for another fandom. I haven't posted for a different project yet, but please understand that I might. This is a good thing! It helped me get my mojo back and write for Nocturne. So like please don't get upset if you see me update other things. coughRipple Effectcough

My goal is to complete this fic before 2024, hopefully by a lot. At the absolute latest, my goal is to complete Nocturne before Season 5 comes out. 2025 is not good news right? But here is my promise as a Fanfic creator who hates in-complete works just as much as the next reader:

If by the premiere of ST episode 1 "The Crawl," Nocturne is not completed, I promise to release my outline.

I understand that this would not be satisfying, and it's something that I don't want to do - I want to finish what I started, I love Nocturne and I plan to see it complete. But life does happen. So if literally all else fails, I will post my outline, and that way you guys will know how it ends.

I have gotten so much support for this fic, like an incredible amount of support. Simply lovely fan art has been made! Which if I think about long enough will make me cry So I want to give you guys the assurance that your time hasn't been wasted, I will finish and if all else fails, you guys will at least know what happens.

Until then, thank you so much for your patience! Thank you for supporting my bat fic! Thank you for the art!!! *sobs* Thank you for tagging me in bat posts & videos; they're so cute!! Hope to see you next week with Chapter 11!

Happy reading!

[toast-the-unknowing]

AO3 Tag Game

tagged by @sleepy-skittles

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

224.

2. What’s your current AO3 wordcount?

1,170,582

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

I have 50 fandoms on my AO3, I’m not listing them all. Top ten are Raven Cycle, Criminal Minds, Warehouse 13, SG-1, Psych, DS9, SGA, AOS, the Middleman, and The 100.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

while we’re on the subject, could we change the subject now

Word on the Street

faith, hope, all that bullshit

It Had To Be You

see you somewhere, someplace, sometime

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not.

Qualified yes. If a comment is short or nonspecific, I probably won’t respond, not because I don’t appreciate those, I do! But they generally don’t make me feel like I have anything to say, so at a certain point it feels like “thank you for thanking me” silliness. I also don’t respond to anonymous/unlogged in comments because I figure the commenter isn’t going to see the response anyway.

Aside from that, I have the intention of responding to comments and it kinda...depends...on time and energy and mental reserves. I’ve been real bad at it this last year, that’s not my intention but it is the situation.

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

don’t think about how much it will hurt, it’s essentially about the failure of denial as a long-term coping mechanism

7. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve ever written?

I have written crossovers in the past, and there was a period of time where I wrote a lot of them (at least as an overall percentage of my output). I don’t really feel that itch anymore, lately. I once wrote a Stargate Atlantis/BBC Merlin crossover for a friend on Livejournal, that’s probably the one that required the largest suspension of disbelief.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not really, no? I got an anon comment on a fic once that the way I had written Blue was “abusive” and telling me I “wasn’t feminist,” which I didn’t think were accurate critiques of the work but especially not if the person couldn’t be assed to put their own name to it.

The other thing I’ve gotten that is mostly irritating is people telling me that major, central aspects of the story didn’t work. Which, what...do you think...you are accomplishing with this. I’m not rewriting a several thousand word long story that’s been done for weeks because you think the plot twist was too obvious or the main character was mean. Deal with it on your own time.

9. Do you write smut?

Never used to but that is where we are now, yes!

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yup, someone copied Word on the Street, did a find and replace on the character names for some fandom I’d never heard of, and posted it to AO3. (I was amused to see they did, at least, do enough work to take out the comment about Adam’s father giving him a concussion, I suppose that wasn’t in keeping with the new character.) They were apparently known in their fandom for stealing works and so when they posted a new fic someone googled it, found my original, and left me a comment. I got in touch with AO3 and they pulled it pretty much right away.

11. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, Wrap My Flesh in Ivy and in Twine by @comicsohwhyohwhy! It is definitely different from writing on my own but I had a ton of fun and we’re hoping to cowrite again soon.

12. What’s your all time favorite ship?

I suppose at this point I have to say Adam/Ronan. For writing, for sure; since I don’t read a ton in this fandom there’s maybe room for “what’s my favorite ship to read” but at that point my history as a multi-fannish multi-shipper gets in my way.

13. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicles.

14. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

god this is always the most impossible question. I’m trying to frame it as like “what fics do I get inordinately happy about getting comments on” to see if that helps.

Age and Treachery for Tortall

The Visit for DS9

The Quintuple Convergence Alternatives for The Middleman

Loose Lips Sink Ships for The 100

still can’t whittle it down for TRC, I’m going to go with my cop out answer, new worlds for the weary, new lands for the living (not that it’s not true just I feel like I’ve talked a lot about that one being Special)

tagging @saywhatjessie, @two-of-swords-621, @ponyregrets, @talldecafcappuccino, @philosophersandfools whoever else wants to play

[velkynkarma]

@scribeofred tagged me for this and I figured, why not?

1. What fandoms have you written for?

A fair few. Let’s see...Fire Emblem (various games), Bleach, Samurai Champloo, One Piece, Digimon, Avatar the Last Airbender, Legend of Korra, Young Justice, Supernatural, Voltron: Legendary Defender, and Castlevania

2. How many works do you have on AO3 &/or FFNet?

There are 35 stories on FF.net and 54 works on AO3. Seven of those are posted on both accounts.

3. What are your top 3 fics by kudos on A03 &/or Favs on FFNet?

AO3 has the most (the highest fave count on FF.net is only 904). All 3 are Voltron fics:

Routine Maintenance, by a landslide 1678

Pillar in the Dark, at 1037

Parasite Knight, at 962

4. Which 3 fics have the least kudos & Favs?

Some of my very old Fire Emblem fics are the ones that have the least, but those are all on FF.net. For AO3, the lowest 3 are all Voltron fics, tied at 71:

Genesis, understandable since it’s a niche fusion AU

Coin Toss, again understandable since it’s the most recent fic in a very long AU/Canon Divergent series

Team Tactics, sadly understandable since it’s a niche fic about Allura and Zarkon

5. Which Fic has the most comments and which has the least?

On AO3, the clear winner is Premium Pandemonium (Voltron), with a whopping 550 comments (and I love everyone of you that left one!) The fic with the least comments is A Test of Faith (Supernatural) with a whole 5.

On FF.net we actually have one that beats out even AO3 for max comments: Asteria Nightmare (One Piece), with 613. 

6. Which complete fic do you wish had gotten more attention?

Either A Thousand Burning Eyes or Glass Half Full. Both are Voltron fics I put a lot of work into (especially Thousand Burning Eyes) but only had a handful of dedicated readers. It’s understandable though, since they were both about relatively unpopular or niche characters. 

I’ll admit I was also a bit disappointed with the response to Forced Respite (Castlevania) especially since several people requested I post it and expressed interest in it, and then didn’t actually leave any kind of feedback. But the fandom in general also seemed very unresponsive, so I’m not really surprised. 

7. Have you written any crossovers?

It’s practically one of my calling cards at this point. Especially Fusion AU’s. I’ve also done a couple fic crossovers between two different canon divergent AU series with @bosstoaster

8. What is the craziest fic you’ve written?

Crazy in what sense? If most ambitious/time consuming, undoubtedly Premium Pandemonium. 

9. What’s the fic you’ve written with the saddest ending?

Hmm...I generally do bittersweet angles more than pure sad. But the ones that seemed to hit people the hardest emotionally would be either Paying Respects (Voltron) or One Day Late (One Piece).

10. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

“Happiest endings” isn’t really my forte, but I guess if I had to pick one, Personal Growth (Voltron). It’s just generally a nice, relaxed vibe about a character enjoying his new hobby.

11. What is your smuttiest fic?

Yeah I don’t write smut. Not my thing.

12. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I did years ago on one of my One Piece fics. At the time it upset me, but now I look back on it and laugh at how petty the commenter was.

13. What is the nicest comment you’ve received?

I can’t pick just one! I’ve had so many lovely comments!

14. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I’ve had fics pulled onto those other fansites, yeah. It happens.

15. How many fics do you have marked as incomplete?

Only one! From years and years ago in my early Fire Emblem days. I also specifically stated the fic might not ever be finished, too. 

As a general rule, I don’t post fanfics at all until they’re fully completed. Then people can safely invest their time in my stories and I don’t leave them hanging. 

16. Which of the WIPS will most likely be finished first?

Well the one fic above never will be. I have a WIP currently in progress for a new/old fandom, but it’s going quite well and should be completed soon. It’s also not actually public yet (and likely will not be for a while).

17. Which WIP are you looking forward to finishing?

The aforementioned new/old fandom one in #16.

18. Is there a WIP that you’re considering abandoning?

I’ve got quite a few fic skeletons that probably will never be completed in all kinds of fandoms. None of them have ever been posted, though, so nothing public has ever been left unfinished.

19. Which complete fic would you consider rewriting?

I don’t know if I would completely re-write any, but there are a number from my One Piece and Young Justice fandoms that I wouldn’t mind giving a little polish to. I plan to do that one day when I eventually get off my lazy butt and transfer them to AO3 from FF.net. 

20. Which complete fic is your favourite?

This is always changing, honestly. I’m really proud of a lot of my work. Currently Premium Pandemonium is the one I’m most proud of, because it was such an investment of time an energy and planning. I’m still extremely fond of Prince of Memory though, because it practically wrote itself and it still feels powerful even years later.

21. What’s your total published word count?

On AO3: 1,442,436

On FF.net:  1,118,411

Bear in mind, there is some crossover between about 7 fics for those counts. I also have a couple assorted fics posted to tumblr only for prompt challenges that I think I still haven’t cross-posted to AO3. I should do that at some point...

Thanks for the tag @scribeofred and anyone else can feel free to play :)

[jesatria]

Fic: Simple Pleasures, Chap 10

Title: Simple Pleasures Fandom: Kushiel’s Legacy Characters: Isidore d’Aiglemort, Anne Livet Pairings: Isidore/Anne Word Count: 8,468 Rating: NC-17 Summary: The story of Isidore d’Aiglemort & the gardener’s daughter of Lombelon. WIP. Disclaimer: I do not own Kushiel’s Legacy. This is only for fun & no profit is being made from it.

Previous Chapters:

1. The Visit

2. Desire

3. The Harvest Festival

4. Triumph

5. Gifts

6. The Eagle Unbound

7. Lighting the Candle

8. The Longest Night

9. The Final Parting

Chapter 10: The Sword of Camael

           Things had, to put it bluntly, not gone according to plan.

           They’d known. Somehow, they’d known. The Royal Army had known my plan and adjusted its position accordingly. They’d hidden it well, too—I’d had no idea until I heard shouts and the sound of steel on steel as the Glory-Seekers fell upon my loyal forces. And it wasn’t just them, oh no—a portion of my own army, Allies of Camlach, men from Camaeline houses owing fealty to me as their sovereign Duc, joined them. Their attack had been enough to halt my plan and throw everything  into disarray. Though, I thought bitterly, mayhap that was actually for the best.

           I’d been played for a fool.

           Selig never meant to honor our agreement.

           I cursed myself for a fool for not having seen it coming. He meant to invade; all the intelligence confirmed that. I thought I could use him for my own ends and stave off invasion. How could I have been so blind? We’d have been cut to pieces if the traitors hadn’t kept us busy. As soon as I saw the Skaldi cut them down when they tried to make their escape, I knew. The Skaldi had no way of knowing those men had betrayed me. We made our escape into the mountains, where I could be reasonably certain of our safety. No one knew them like we did, after all.

           It was after we retreated safely that the priests came to denounce me. All of them, every priest of Camael left in the army. I’d never been overly close with Camael’s priesthood, not like my father had been. I tolerated them of course—how could I not when I was sovereign Duc of Camlach?—but I was never one to ask for their blessings upon me before battle. Better to rely on my own skill and steel than any aid from the Terre-d’Ange-that-lies-beyond. Nonetheless I never made any protests or barred them from following my armies to battle. It was tradition, after all, and the men took comfort from their presence.

           Still, I will not lie and say I didn’t feel deeply uneasy when they made their denunciation. “lsidore d’Aiglemort,” began the most senior of them, “you have betrayed the sacred trust of Elua and his Companions. You have let the Skaldi in the passes, transgressing against the throne of Terre d’Ange. You have turned away from your duty as Camael’s scion. You have shown yourself to be without honor. Camael has withdrawn his favor.” With that, all the assembled priests turned their backs on me and walked away. No one dared hinder them. They’d not betray us to the Skaldi. To the Royal Army, mayhap, but not the Skaldi.

           I glanced at the faces of the lords and captains gathered around me. Several of them were clearly uneasy about what had just transpired. Our situation was precarious enough for the proclaimed loss of Camael’s favor to be unsettling. Anne would’ve been horrified, pious as she was.

           Anne.

           Anne.

           Did she know? With Lombelon lying not far from the main road leading from the war zone to the City, it was likely she did. Word of the invasion and my treason would spread quickly. That thought, that she knew what I’d done, filled me with more shame than anything else. The failure of my plans, being played for a fool by a Skaldi warlord, earning the condemnation of the priests of Camael… all of that paled in comparison. If I were to get myself out of this mess and see her again, what would I say to her? I’d kept all of it from her and in doing so had lied by omission. Hard as it had been, it was necessary. By keeping her ignorant of my plans I kept her safe, and thank Elua I had! From that particular danger, at least.

           The other danger was considerably greater.

           A Skaldi horde was now on the loose in Terre d’Ange led by a warlord more cunning and charismatic than any in living memory. With the clarity of hindsight I could see now that I’d underestimated Waldemar Selig the exact same way most D’Angelines underestimated me. All Camaelines think with their swords indeed. Such a fool I’d been, not to see it. And now all of Terre d’Ange was in deadly peril. From what intelligence we’d been able to gather, we learned the Royal Army had retreated to the fortress of Troyes-le-Mont and the Skaldi were besieging them. I breathed a small sigh of relief at that, for it meant our situation was less precarious. Selig would be too preoccupied besieging Troyes-le-Mont to take the time to kill me. He’d be hard-pressed finding me anyway, for no one knew the mountains like the Allies of Camlach.

           There were no other options. We could do nothing about the Skaldi, not when there were some thirty thousand of them to our four thousand. No, for now we would remain hidden in the mountains while I considered my options.

 **

           The situation did not improve after that first day. I wept until I thought I had no more tears to shed. I had been thoroughly shaken to my foundations and could find nothing to grasp to steady myself. Again and again I pondered how well I’d truly known Isidore, that I didn’t think him capable of something like this. There was a whole side to him I’d not seen, and in my worst moments I questioned our entire relationship. Was what passed between us real? Yes, I told myself. If he was faking his feelings, then he missed his calling as a player. The love I saw blazing in his eyes, the raw emotion I heard in his voice when last we parted were proof his feelings weren’t feigned. Mayhap if he’d confided in me, I could’ve convinced him not to go through with it. Mayhap I could’ve gotten him to see that this was folly. I shook my head, dismissing such thoughts from my mind. I would drive myself mad with such thoughts, and I needed clarity of mind more now than ever.

           The changes were immediate. As soon as word of Isidore’s treason spread through the manor and village beyond, the stares and whispers began. Conversations would halt when I walked by or else folk would whisper behind their hands, thinking I didn’t hear what they said of me. “That’s the one. Spread her legs for a traitor and let him get a child on her!” became all too familiar. Some of the folk of the village even went so far as to spit at my feet. They clearly thought I was somehow party to Isidore’s treason, or at least guilty through association. I’d shared his bed for years, after all, and now carried his child. Some few shopkeepers in the village even refused to sell to me, turning me away with claims that they didn’t sell to a traitor’s whore.

           The mood in the manor was another matter. I was not regarded with as much contempt and suspicion among people I’d lived and worked with for years. Some, such as Thèrese and Marcel, voiced support for me, claiming I’d never stand for treason. I appreciated their words, though it did not escape my notice that they regarded me with greater wariness than before. Innocent of treason I might’ve been, but I was still lover and would-be consort to a traitor. Then there were the others, who regarded me with similar scorn as the folk in the village. It was not quite as blatant, but it was there all the same.

           I’d never felt more alone. There was not a single person I could speak to about my troubles, not in the manor anyway. So I paid a visit to the shrine of Elua. It was a place I knew well, having visited it many times. The same priest had tended it too, for as long as I could remember. If anyone could ease my troubled heart, it was him.

           I removed my shoes and stockings before approaching the shrine. The grass was a pleasant tickle against my bare feet. I always liked going about barefoot in the warm weather.

           “Anne.”

           I turned to see a familiar priest of Elua approach. “Hello Brother Michel.”

           “Have you come to make an offering?”

           “No. I was hoping I might speak with you.”

           “Of course.” He gestured to the small house adjoining the shrine. “Shall we go inside?”

           “Yes, thank you.” Had I not been so far gone with child, I’d have sat on the grass, but I had trouble rising from such a position in my current state. Once inside, I seated myself in a chair beside Brother Michel’s bookshelf. He sat in the chair opposite mine and spoke.

           “I’ve heard the news of the Duc d’Aiglemort. Is that what you wished to speak with me about?”

           “Yes,” I replied softly. “Please believe me when I say I knew nothing of his plans. Suspicion has fallen on me, in both the manor and the village.”

           “Of course I believe you, Anne,” said Brother Michel. “It is plain to see that your heart is troubled. Had you been party to d’Aiglemort’s treason, I do not think it would be so.”

           “Thank you.” I didn’t think I could stand it if our priest of Elua held me in suspicion. “Things have been… difficult since the news reached us. I never had the slightest inkling that he was plotting treason. I’ve been struggling to reconcile that knowledge with the man I know.”

           “A common sentiment for someone in your position. It is only natural for you to wonder how well you knew him when you had no idea he was plotting treason,” Brother Michel observed.

           “It’s not just that. There have been moments when I’ve wondered whether my love was misplaced, or if his love for me was false,” I confessed. My chest felt tight at the admission—saying it aloud made it more real than it had been inside my head.

           “What does your heart tell you?” Brother Michel’s voice was impossibly gentle.

           “I…” The words caught in my throat and I had to force them out, “I don’t think his love for me is feigned, and what I feel for him I know to be true.”

           “Then you should take some comfort in that. Love is no easy thing, Anne. It is hard, hard and even cruel. We all struggle at times to remain true to Blessed Elua’s precept. If your feelings for the Duc d’Aiglemort were not true, I doubt you would be feeling as you are now.”

           “I have always tried my best to follow Blessed Elua’s precept,” I said, “but I’ve never had such trouble before now.”

           “Again, you must look to what your heart tells you. All I can say is the course of love does not always run smooth.”

           When I left Brother Michel later that day, I felt a bit better about my situation, some of my doubts dissipating. They were not gone entirely, but I felt comforted at the thought that it was Blessed Elua’s will. Our hearts had been joined, and even the knowledge of Isidore’s treason was not enough to completely sunder the bond between us. There was no sense on dwelling on what I now knew about him; best to confront him about it when I saw him again. That I resolved to do, for I had to understand. I had to know if I was to be his consort and the mother of his child.

           None of that made it much easier to face the constant suspicion and outright hostility. For the first time in my life I wished I could run away from it all, leave Lombelon for somewhere no one knew who I was and whose child I carried. To the City, mayhap. The problem was that I was hardly fit to travel in my condition with my time nearly upon me and besides that, the thought of leaving behind everything and everyone I knew filled me with fear. No, Lombelon was my home and there I would remain. I couldn’t think of having my child anywhere else. But that didn’t mean I had to remain in the manor for my lying in. Instead, once summer came and the pear trees were in bloom, I took myself to the shrine of Eisheth.

**

           In the days of my youth, my father had me study the geography of Camlach until I knew it like the back of my hand. When I became Duc and formed the Allies of Camlach, I used that knowledge to create a system of pathways through the mountains which allowed us to move quickly through the province when needed. I made use of that knowledge now.

           We spent a couple of days at that first campsite, then moved to another deeper in the mountains. The Skaldi had neglected to pursue us, being occupied with the Royal Army, but I thought it best not to take any chances. It was a wide valley ringed by mountains, hard for a horde of Skaldi to find. Our options were limited. Scouts reported that the western passes had been sealed against us. Ysandre and de Somerville were taking no chances. Unfortunately, they also cut off our baggage train. That, needless to say, presented difficulties.

           One of the first things I did after we settled into our initial campsite was order an inventory of our supplies. The results were not encouraging: we were limited to what we carried and a small portion of the baggage train quick enough to avoid being cut off with the rest. It wouldn’t last long, even with reduced rations. Of necessity I ordered men with the necessary skills to hunt and forage in the surrounding area. We were very fortunate that it was early summer. I had to hope that would be enough until we could replenish our supplies in full.

           I had no idea when that would be.

           I had no idea how to get myself out of this mess.

 **

           The shrine to Eisheth proved to be the sanctuary I needed in the days leading up to the birth. The priestess and her acolyte welcomed me in and promptly settled me in a small guest room off of the shrine. It was a cozy room, with a comfortable bed and windows looking out on the shrine’s herb gardens. A good place for a lying-in, I thought. Mayhap not the expected choice, but it would do. If the priestesses were surprised at my appearance, they said naught. I didn’t share with them why I’d left the manor, nor did they ask. If was a huge relief to take refuge somewhere no one cared I was Isidore’s consort and carrying his child. I needed that badly after all I’d endured these last weeks. Now all I had to do was endure childbirth.

           I had a good idea of what to expect. Women will often speak of such matters before an impending birth and I’d heard plenty throughout my life, usually with those women who never lit the candle chiming in to say they didn’t regret their decision. The others didn’t shy away from describing just how painful giving birth was. “Felt like I’d been run over by a wagon when it was over,” one put it. Thus, I approached the birth with a combination of apprehension and eagerness for it to be over and done with. The priestess examined me and assured me that everything was ordinary and I was due any day now.

           Those last days seemed to drag on for an eternity. There was naught for me to do but sit around and wait for the pangs to start. Truth be told I couldn’t complain too much, as I hardly felt up to more than that anyway. Normally I’d be well-occupied with the gardens as summer came. I missed it dearly. Even though I hadn’t worked as a servant for months now, I was still not quite used to idleness. I had plenty of it now, and more time to think than I could’ve possibly wanted. I spent it thinking on the birth to come. Better to keep my mind on that than on anything else.

           I’d been staying at the shrine for a little more than two weeks when it finally happened. The priestesses were quick to take me to a different room from the one I’d been staying in and settle me on the bed. At long last, the babe was coming.

 **

           We were surrounded.

           It was actually rather impressive that they managed it, though I’d not bothered to post more sentries than the minimum, not this deep in the mountains. My first thought was that the Skaldi had come to finish us off after all and I immediately began considering potential routes of escape. There was no way we could make a stand in the valley, not when we were surrounded on all sides. The only option was to fight our way through. Before I could think on that any further, the sound of trumpets rang out in the valley. I looked up to see several banners prominently displayed, too far away for me to make out their devices.

           “Isidore d’Aiglemort!” Ghislain de Somerville’s voice rang out from the hills. “We wish to parley. We send our heralds in good faith! Will you honor the concords of war?”

           Was there much of a choice? They had us surrounded. If we tried to make an escape, we’d be at a disadvantage attacking uphill while they held the high ground. No, our only option was to treat with them. I knew Ghislain to be an honorable man, not the sort who’d lure us into a trap. It was too difficult to shout up, so I gave an exaggerated bow as a response. A moment later a small group bearing what was unmistakably a white flag of truce made its way to the valley floor. They were immediately surrounded and brought before me. As they approached, I noticed a second banner flying beneath the flag of truce, an unfamiliar device of a jagged circle of red pierced by a golden dart on a black field.

           “What is your message?” I greeted them, cutting straight to the point.

           “We come bearing an offer of truce, your grace,” said the standard bearer. “Will you agree to treat with us?”

           “I don’t see how I have much choice,” I retorted. “Yes, I will treat with you.”

           The standard bearer nodded. “We will remain here as a gesture of good faith while you speak with our leaders.”

           “Done.”

           It did not take long for me to assemble an escort. We went armed, but I elected to leave my helm behind as a gesture of good faith. I’d certainly be in need of that going forward. We followed the path the heralds took until we reached the top of the trail. L’Agnacite archers stood to either side of it, each with an arrow nocked and pointed at my head. I ignored them and made straight for Ghislain de Somerville. “I am here, cousin. You wished to speak with me?” No sense in bothering with excessive courtesy or appealing to friendship—whatever friendly association I had with Ghislain in the past was long gone now.

           “The emissary of Ysandre de la Courcel, Queen of Terre d’Ange, wishes to speak with you, your grace,” said Ghislain. I took a moment to scan the forces surrounding me then, looking for the emissary. My eyes widened in shock when I caught sight of a number of warriors with blue whorls tattooed on their faces.

           “My lord.”

           I turned my attention to a D’Angeline woman who stepped out from the crowd to stand before me. There was somewhat distinctly familiar about her. “You,” I said, frowning as I tried to recall where I’d last seen her. “I know you.”

           “Yes, my lord. I gave joie to you at the Midwinter Masque when Baudoin de Trevalion played the Sun Prince. You remembered, when last we met.” It came to me then, the palace, a chance encounter with a Servant of Naamah. “You were fostered among the Shahrizai. They should have taught you to recognize the mark of Kushiel’s Dart, my lord.”

           My gaze flicked over to her left eye, taking in the red mote in the brown of the iris. She was right—no one could spend four years fostering with the Shahrizai and befriend Melisande without knowing of anguissettes. “Delaunay’s anguissette. I remember. Melisande begged a favor, for a plan gone awry. I thought you gone, among the Skaldi. But your lord’s death was not of my will, anguissette.”

           “So I am given to understand,” said Phèdre nó Delaunay.

           I raised my eyebrows. “You are not here for revenge? Then what?” I turned my attention to the many blue tattooed faces clustered around us. “You bring the Picti? Why?” Then it dawned on me. “Delaunay. That’s what he and Quintilius Rousse were about.”

           “My lord, this is the army of the Cruarch of Alba and Ghislain de Somerville. And we are here to offer you the choosing of the manner of your death.”

           My men did not take kindly to that and reached for their swords. It was hardly what I wanted to hear, but I’d agreed to this meeting. I held up a hand and my men fell back into place. “How do you say?”

           “You are a dead man, Kilberhaar,” she stated plainly. The blood left my face at the sound of the Skaldi’s name for me. “Waldemar Selig used you for a fool. He’ll not let you live, if he defeats us; the D’Angelines know you for a traitor, and will not abide it. Selig’s smart enough to clean up after himself, and wise enough to leave no blade aimed at his back. I know, I spent considerable time in his bed, thanks to you. You’re dead, no matter who wins. We can offer you a chance to die with honor.”

           There it was, laid plain before me, the reality I had to face. There would be no escaping this alive. I threw my head back and tossed my hair over my shoulders. “What possible reason would I have to take it, anguissette?”

           “I am Phèdre nó Delaunay and I can give you a reason, my lord. Because if you do not, and Selig prevails, Melisande Shahrizai will dance upon your grave.”

           Her words were a knife to the heart. Melisande, my old friend, who’d befriended me when I was newly come to the Shahrizai and homesick, who’d encouraged my ambitions from the very beginning. A friend. I called her a friend. I thought she felt the same way about me. I could only stare at Phèdre nó Delaunay. “Melisande was in league with Selig?”

           “Yes, my lord. I saw a letter, in her own hand. I know it well. I ought to. You would be well-advised to do her no more favors.”

           I cursed and turned away from her then, looking out over the valley where my army waited below. That was it then, the truth. Melisande had used me to serve her ends and discarded me once I’d served my purpose. What a fool I’d been, to think her my friend! She’d done the same thing to Baudoin; I was blind to think she wouldn’t do it to me. Her betrayal of Baudoin should’ve been a signal to me of her true nature. She’d played me very well, shaping my ambitions into a tool for her own use, and I’d been too damned blind to see it. Again I cursed myself for a fool. It seemed to be happening with increasing frequency as of late.

           Well, if Melisande and Selig thought I would meekly accept the hand they’d dealt me, they were sorely mistaken.

           “I am the sword you would plunge into Selig’s heart,” I said, keeping my back to the crowd.

           “Yes, your grace. Camael’s sword.” That was Ghislain de Somerville.

           I laughed harshly. “The betrayer of the nation turned its savior.” Below, a crowd had formed around the messengers. We’d been starved for news, and they were no doubt at work filling my men in on all that had transpired since our flight. My men, who I’d led into this disaster. I had a responsibility to them too. “Will you feed them?” I asked Ghislain. He would understand. “Ysandre cut off our supply-train, and sealed the doors of Camlach against us.”

           “We will,” he promised.

           I turned and met his eyes. “What do you propose?”

           “I propose that we unite our forces and mount an attack on Selig’s army,” he gave a faint smile, “and strike as hard as we can for Waldemar Selig. No one’s asking you to die alone, cousin.”

           “Selig is mine,” I declared with a calm I didn’t quite feel. “Swear it, and I will grant what you ask.”

           “I swear.” Ghislain’s expression grew stern. “Do you pledge your fealty to Ysandre de la Courcel, on Camael’s honor, and in the name of Blessed Elua?”

           “I’ll pledge my loyalty to the destruction of Melisande Shahrizai.” Ghislain glanced over at Phèdre, who gave a slight nod. That was enough for them, it seemed.

           With an agreement reached, the army made its slow descent into the valley. It was quite fortunate that we were encamped in a valley large enough to accommodate another army roughly the same size as my own. We’d not be remaining long in any case. I rode beside Ghislain and the others as we made our way down.

           “You were the Cassiline, weren’t you?” I asked the stone-faced Cassiline Brother who rode beside Phèdre nó Delaunay. “I remember. Melisande’s favor.”

           “Yes, my lord,” he replied with bitterness in his voice. “I was the Cassiline. Joscelin Verreuil formerly of the Cassiline Brotherhood.”

           “You’re better off. Steel and faith are an unnatural mix. I’m impressed, though. I’d have thought slavery would kill a Cassiline. I’ll want to hear, later, all you know of Waldemar Selig.” With that I left them, for I had other matters requiring my immediate attention. There would be time to speak of such matters during our war meeting.

           The meeting took place as soon as the army was settled and the logistical matters were seen to. The sight of the Albans with their blue tattooed faces and unwieldy war chariots caused quite a stir in the camp. An Alban army crossing to D’Angeline shores. No one would’ve believed such a thing possible, yet it had been done. Mayhap our own mission was not entirely a reckless gamble.

           All but the absolute necessities I carried with me were lost with our baggage train, and Ghislain’s command tent had been left behind in Azzalle, so we had to improvise. We did have maps, which were updated to include the current positions of the various armies. The discussion went on for some time. The Albans had no concept of battle formations, which meant time had to be taken to explain it to them. Once that was seen to, the planning moved more swiftly. The final plan we settled on was relatively simple: the Camaeline infantry would form the front line of assault against the Skaldi. I knew well how disciplined my own men were and there was no one else I’d rather have holding the line. When the Skaldi rallied from the initial attack, the Albans would swoop in from the wings and engage them. Then the infantry would split and my cavalry would ride through to meet the Skaldi. Both Phèdre and Messire Verreuil were certain Selig would be on the front lines. We would have to fight our way through a horde of Skaldi to get to him.

           “How good is he?” I asked once the planning was done. “Do you know, Cassiline?”

           “He disarmed me,” he answered. “In the heat of battle. He is that good, my lord.”

           I studied the Cassiline for a moment, taking his measure. Their discipline was not like what we were taught in Camlach, and Camaeline boys almost never joined the Cassiline Brotherhood. Still, I knew enough to have respect for their fighting prowess. “Then I shall have to be better,” I said quietly, hand on the hilt of my sword.

           There was silence while my words sunk in, then Joscelin Verreuil spoke again. “Don’t wait to engage him. He’ll move inside your guard if you do. He fights without thinking, the way you or I breathe. And don’t be fooled by his size. He’s faster than you think.”

           I nodded, acknowledging his words. “Thank you.”

 **

           All my life I heard stories of the agonies of childbirth. It was a common enough complaint among women that it was a topic of conversation when we worked together in the kitchen or at other chores. Going into this, I thought I had a good idea of what to expect. I was wrong.

           No amount of previous knowledge could’ve prepared me for this.

           It was agony, mayhap a hundred times worse than the strongest pain I’d previously experienced. The priestesses of Eisheth, who had plenty of experience of midwifery, told me to take deep breaths and exhale slowly. This was meant to give me somewhat to focus on besides the pain, and it did for a time.

           The room they took me to was commonly used for patients, including women giving birth. The bed was laid out with clean sheets and piled with pillows. They propped me up on the pillows after stripping me down to my shift. I hadn’t been at it for long before I was asking myself why exactly I’d chosen to do this of my own free will. I could’ve lived my entire life without knowing such horrible pain, but I just had to light the candle. At least those were my thoughts before the pain wiped away anything else.

           I couldn’t have even begun to guess how long it went on. Every minute felt like an hour. I cried out until my throat was raw and my face was wet with tears. Then—finally—it ended. I was so exhausted and out of it that it took me until I heard the sound of an infant crying to comprehend what had just happened.

           “You have a son, Anne,” said one of the priestesses.

           A son.

           I had a son.

           Isidore and I, we had a son.

           Later, when I lay on clean sheets with my son sleeping soundly in my arms, I could not stop marveling at him, this new life I had brought into the world. Such a miraculous thing, that I should carry him inside my womb for nine months and now I was seeing and holding him for the first time. After so much anticipation it was almost hard to believe he was finally here, but he was. He was wonderfully real. I studied his tiny face. Sometimes babes come out of the womb strongly resembling one parent or the other. I couldn’t see that now. Mayhap it would become apparent in time. For now I was content to delight in this new life we created together. He was perfect. I’d always hoped to have a child, and now I had one. Looking at him, I knew that I would do absolutely anything for him. My love for him was absolute. “I hope you have silver hair like your father,” I whispered, then pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, “Maslin.”

           The name we’d chosen for him. His grandfather’s name.

 **

           There is a certain calm in facing one’s impending death.

           It came with the absence of doubt. All uncertainty lies stripped away and the hand of fate presses down. One knows, in that moment, all hopes of struggle and escape are futile. There will be no clever stratagems at the last minute, no daring escape from the scaffold. All one can do is accept fate and walk calmly toward it.

           I had only one full day left. One day. There was enough to do with the preparations for the battle that I had little time to dwell on that realization. I did not think of how my plans had gone wrong and what might’ve been. I did not think of all those places I wished I could see, things I could do, people I could see one last time before the end.

           All but one.

           Anne, I’m so, so sorry. The woman I loved, who I’d wronged in my folly. I would never see her again. Our child would grow up fatherless. Everything I promised—consort status for her, an inheritance for our child—would never come to pass. That was my fault. Both of them would bear the taint of association with me, being the lover and child of a traitor. If I succeeded in what I meant to do and killed Selig, at least I could give them somewhat to be proud of.

           When I had a moment to spare, I wrote one last letter to Anne. I owed her that. I didn’t bother trying to explain or justify my actions—what was the point of that now? I only hoped she could find it in her heart to forgive me and not raise our child to hate me. Just before we were set to march, I entrusted the letter a courier. By the time it arrived at Lombelon, I’d be dead.

           We left early the next day. Just before we broke camp, word came that the siege defenses had fallen and the Skaldi were at the gates of Troyes-le-Mont. We would be just in time, it seemed. The march out of Camlach and into Namarre took most of the day—it was sunset when we arrived in sight of the besieged fortress. The Skaldi surrounded it completely, a vast horde larger than any seen in Terre d’Ange in a very long time. Siege towers could be seen here and there, corroborating what Ghislain told us. We made camp in the foothills, far enough back that the Skaldi scouts wouldn’t detect us but close enough that we could see the area clearly.

           “We’ll wait for daybreak,” said Ghislain once we were encamped, “and pray they know us for allies in the fortress. The sooner they counterattack the Skaldi rear, the better our chances.”

           “You think they’ll flock to aid the d’Aiglemort eagle?” I inquired. “Don’t count on their being quick, cousin.”

           “My father is no fool. Drustan’s men are flying the Cullach Gorrym. He’ll know,” Ghislain assured me.

           “If he can even see the Black Pig, over thirty thousand howling Skaldi.” I shrugged. “We’ll do as much damage as we can, and pray it’s enough to break the siege. But for every minute your father hesitates, and for every minute it takes for them to marshal a counterattack, we’ll die by the hundreds.”

           Our discussion was interrupted by one of the chevaliers sworn to Phèdre nó Delaunay, who cried out and pointed to a line of prisoners just visible in the distance. Horror and revulsion rose within me as I saw they were all women. I knew the Skaldi had a fondness for D’Angeline women, had even freed women they took captive in raids. But knowing and seeing are different things. This was in part my doing. This might well be the fate that awaited Anne if we failed. I felt sick at the thought of her being brutalized and violated by the Skaldi. I glanced over at Phèdre, who was visibly shaken by the sight. Her face was pressed into her Cassiline’s chest and she was shuddering. I had done that to her.

           “I am sorry,” I said softly. “For what was done to you both. For what it’s worth, I am sorry.”

           It felt good to say it. Joscelin Verreuil met my eyes and nodded.

           “Daybreak,” said Ghislain, voice filled with grim determination.

           We returned to the camp shortly after that, to see to the final preparations. The sense of calm I’d felt since accepting my fate was still with me, now pared with a greater sense of urgency after seeing the Skaldi at the gates of Troyes-le-Mont. We could not fail.

           That will not happen, I reassured myself. We will not fail.

           I will not fail.

           When night fell, I retired early. I wanted to be sure I was well-rested for the battle to come. It was surprising, how easily sleep came. I slept soundly, until I felt someone kneel down beside me. My hand instantly went to my sword and in a moment it was pointed at the visitor’s throat. “You,” I said as I recognized Phèdre nó Delaunay, “what is it?”

           “My lord,” she replied softly, “the fortress will be ready for your attack.”

           I sheathed my sword and stared at her. “You’ll be captured.”

           “Not before I gain the wall.” She shivered, despite her cloak. “The Skaldi camp is full of D’Angeline women. I can get close enough. And I can give a warning Ysandre will understand.”

           I shook my head. “Do you not understand? Selig will make you talk. You’ll give us all up for dead.”

           “No. No, my lord. I am the one person who will not.”

           Reflexively my gaze went to her left eye. It was too dark to make out the mote. I pushed my hair back from my face and asked, “Why are you telling me?”

           “Because you, my lord, are the one person who won’t try to stop me,” she replied. “Help me get past our sentries. A hundred lives for every minute, you said. I can save a thousand, at least; mayhap three times that many. I gave you the choice of your death. The least you can do is honor mine.”

           I couldn’t argue with that. Instead I gave a curt nod and rose from my position. Together we walked to the edge of the camp where one of my men was posted as a sentry. I called him aside and he turned his attention to me. I did not watch as Phèdre nó Delaunay slipped past and made her way to the fortress, trusting instead that she knew what she was about. There had been no doubt or hesitation in her words to me and I wondered if it was Kushiel who’d set her to do this. She was his Chosen, after all.

           Kushiel, who I would be meeting soon.

           Before long, the first rays of the sun broke over the horizon. Every preparation that could be made had been made. I checked my armor, weapons, and horse as I did before every battle. It would not do for any mistakes in that area today. Beneath my armor and padding I wore one of the shirts Anne made me. Her handkerchief was tucked into my pocket. Mayhap I was being sentimental, but there was somewhat comforting in having the gifts she’d given me on my person when I went to my death. I wondered what she was doing now, if she hated me for what I’d done. I wondered if our child had been born, the child I would never see. Maslin for a boy; Louise for a girl, we’d decided.

           Forgive me.

           All around me, D’Angeline soldiers prayed to Camael. Normally the priests would make offerings and lead the prayer, but of course we had none. To my surprise I found myself kneeling to join them. “Camael,” I murmured, “I know that I have disgraced myself and betrayed your sacred trust. I ask not for your forgiveness, only that you let me wield your sword in defense of Terre d’Ange one last time.”

           There was no answer. I hadn’t expected one.

           Ghislain de Somerville and I positioned ourselves on one of the hills just past the camp, a good vantage point to survey the battle. My cavalry waited in position nearby. It was in truth a beautiful early summer day, with the sun shining and nary a cloud to be seen. All in all, not a bad day to die.

           As I watched my infantry march forward and engage the Skaldi, the calm I’d felt deepened and the focus I always had during battle came upon me. It was familiar, yet also sharper. The world narrowed to the field of battle and everything else vanished. The Skaldi broke upon the Camaeline shieldwall like water on rocks. The L’Agnacite archers positioned behind the shieldwall fired volley after volley of arrows into the mass of Skaldi. Whatever discipline Selig managed to instill in them was starting to unravel as they charged the shieldwall again and again. If the numbers were more evenly matched, I daresay they might’ve held for quite some time. Instead, the tide of Skaldi was moving forward to flank them.

           I met Ghislain’s eyes and could tell without asking he had the same thought I did. We exchanged brief nods and I signaled for the Albans to attack. They charged forward, cavalry on the right and war chariots on the left with infantry swarming behind both. The sight of them sent a wave of shock through the Skaldi; I suspect it was the blue faces that did it. Whatever it was, the Skaldi were entirely unprepared for a horde of Albans. Thus far, the battle was going as we’d hoped it would. My time was coming soon. I parted from Ghislain and joined my cavalry, taking my place at their head. We moved into position, ready to charge as soon as I gave the command. I watched closely as the infantry dug in and held their position against the onslaught.

           The time was now.

           I signaled the charge and spurred my horse forward. A horn sounded the call and as one, the line of infantry broke in two. We charged forward into the breach and struck the Skaldi with the force of a hammer. I did not need to look back to know the infantry had reformed behind us. Swords singing, we laid into the Skaldi.

           . Yes, this is what I was meant for, to wield a sword in battle, I thought as I slew. My blood was up, as it always was during battle. Scions of Camael were made for this. I was relentless as I drove forward to my goal. Those Skaldi foolish enough to get in my way fell to my sword and did not rise again. “Kilberhaar!” they shouted at the sight of me. Many of them fled. “Kilberhaar!”

           Good, I thought. I want them to know. I hadn’t bothered tying my hair back for that reason. I wanted him to know.

           Pain blossomed in several places; I ignored it, only registering that I’d been wounded. Camael’s battle fire was in me now, and I wondered if he’d forgiven me enough to give me his favor one last time. Ahead, a large Skaldi man shouted orders from atop a tall horse. Selig. It had to be. He turned to see the charge heading straight for him. In response he raised his sword in the air and shouted, “Kilberhaar!” A moment later he was charging toward me.

           Excellent. Come at me and we will see who proves the better!

           The waves of Skaldi parted to let Selig through. No doubt they were filled with excitement at the prospect of a duel to the death between us. Ahead, feu d’Hellas fell from the trebuchets atop the fortress wall. It was quickly followed by the drawbridge being lowered into place. The D’Angeline forces were across it a moment later and fell upon the Skaldi with all the pent-up rage and frustration of an army that had endured a siege for many weeks. I allowed myself a small sigh of relief—Phèdre nó Delaunay had gotten her message through.

           Men fell all around me, D’Angeline and Skaldi both. I did not pause for a moment to note who among my men they were, only noting that the line of cavalry was growing steadily thinner. I took notice when my standard bearer went down, aware now that I’d been separated from the rest of my cavalry and fought on alone.

           A spear thrust got my horse in the neck; I jumped free as he fell. Selig was nearly upon me now, and I did not like my odds on foot against a skilled mounted opponent. Best to even the odds. I slew the nearest Skaldi warrior and grabbed his battle axe. As Selig approached, I threw it left-handed. It hit his horse in the neck and it went down with a mighty crash. Selig was on his feet a moment later.

           The stories did not exaggerate. Selig was a large man, mayhap a few inches taller than me and a fair bit broader. He was also fresh, or at least fresher than I was. As I looked upon my enemy, the man I’d sworn to kill, Camael’s battle fire burned hot within me. Lend your strength to my sword arm one last time, I prayed. With that, I stepped forward to engage Selig.

           Joscelin Verreuil had not been inaccurate in his assessment—it was immediately apparent that Selig was a natural-born swordsman. He was quick for such a big man too. Any wrong move, any faltering on my part would almost certainly prove fatal. The noise and commotion of the battle around me faded until the world might’ve consisted of only the two of us. I kept on the offensive, not wanting to give him any opportunity to press an advantage. I managed to score a few hits on him, though nothing fatal. Unfortunately, he was able to do the same to me.

           I pushed the pain of my wounds aside. In Camlach, we learn from a young age how to deal with pain, not to find pleasure in it as an anguissette would but to build tolerance for it. I’d been practicing weapons and riding in all kinds of weather since I was a child. We endure the cold and fight no matter how sore or exhausted we are. If Selig thought to wear me down this way, he would be sorely disappointed.

           I studied him as we traded blows. He was good. He was very good.

           I was better.

           Even now, with me wounded in several places and hardly fresh, my Camaeline reflexes, honed over years of practicing the sword relentlessly, were just that little bit faster than his. He faltered for just a moment and I saw an opening. My sword found a gap in his armor.

           Selig sank to his knees, gazing up at me in disbelief. Did he actually believe the tales that he was proof against weapons? If so, he went to his death disappointed. My strength at last gave way and I sank to my knees beside him, both hands gripping the hilt of my sword as I thrust it home.

           It was done.

           I was avenged. Terre d’Ange was saved. Anne and the child would be safe.

           My hands lost their grip on the hilt of my sword and I collapsed. The end was near now. There was no more denying or postponing it. I would soon be in Kushiel’s realm, where I’d face the One God’s punisher and whatever justice he sought to serve me. And for the first time since I’d accepted my fate, I was afraid. I knew enough of Kushiel from my time with the Shahrizai to feel certain I was unlikely to receive much mercy from him. I tried to take comfort knowing my loved ones would not die at the hands of the Skaldi.

           They would know I’d died a hero.

           A nearby woman’s voice startled me out of my thoughts. “We are all alike, in the end, and none of us to be had merely for the taking.”

           It took me a moment to place the voice, but when I did I couldn’t help but laugh. Here I was contemplating Kushiel as I lay dying, and his Chosen should appear before me. “Phèdre nó Delaunay,” I whispered, clutching at her hand, “I am afraid of your lord’s revenge.”

           Confusion flashed over her face before realization dawned. She held a waterskin to my lips. “You have paid, my lord, and paid in full. And Kushiel sends no punishment we are not fit to bear.”

           Her words were strangely comforting. I felt some of my fear dissipate and in the distance I heard the beating of bronze wings.

           I drank the water she offered and took my last breath, surrendering my soul into Kushiel’s keeping.

 **

Dear Anne,

           By the time this letter reaches you, I will be dead. I can only hope that when you receive it you will also hear the news that I gave my life in service to Terre d’Ange. I go to my death with the knowledge that my sacrifice might serve to wash away my sins and that you and our child will live in a Terre d’Ange that is free and safe.

           I know I have hurt you deeply and you are owed an explanation for my actions. A letter is an inadequate medium for such a thing. If I could see you one last time, I would try my best to offer an explanation. Since I am denied that, this letter will have to suffice. I was a fool, and allowed myself to be played for a fool by those I should’ve known better than to trust.

           I owe you several apologies. To begin with, I should’ve kept you better than I did. Had I not been so occupied with my foolish plans, I’d have made you my official consort sooner. It pains me to know I’ve left both of you without the support you will need. I should have named our child heir to Lombelon. Mayhap it is pointless to dwell on such mistakes now, but I feel you should know how deeply I regret those mistakes and the consequences they will have for you.

           Here at the end I find myself thinking on all the time we spent together. What we had I cherish with all my heart and there is no part to me that does not regret how my own deeds have cut our time short. Never doubt that I loved you, and our child too, with all my heart. I hope you too will look upon our time together fondly. I hope you might in time share some of those memories with our child.

           I hope someday both of you can find it in your hearts to forgive me.

                         With all my love to you both,

                                   Isidore

[alexseanchai]

Fanfic 2020 in Review

I got tagged by @kasienda @noirshitsuji and @marvelousmsmol and I am tagging whoever wants to play!

1) List of fics completed this year in the order they were finished:

*filters own works to complete and updated in 2020*

1 - 20 of 57 Works by AlexSeanchai

nope. *adds filter to include only works of at least 1000 words*

unless otherwise indicated, these are all Miraculous Ladybug:

“don’t bake it lying down”, post-reveal Marichat vs Felix Graham de Vanily

“veracity”, canon divergence from “Ladybug” featuring Mister Bug and Verity Queen (so also Marichat, I guess)

“(no request is too extreme, if) your heart is in your dream”, in which Hawkmoth wins, for the thirty seconds or so before Emilie saves Ladybug and Chat Noir’s lives

“tell me you love me and make me believe it”, in which trans girl Chatonne Noire ropes Ladybug into helping plan her civilian self’s escape slash social transition

“kingmaker, oathbreaker”, in which Hawkmoth wins and Emilie watches her son remove himself from the family

“stay and let me watch you break it down” (Twelve Dancing Princesses), a modern setting

“set a course for winds of fortune”, in which trans girl Chatonne Noire has already escaped and Gabriel and Nathalie are trying to bring Gabriel’s son home

“we ground love in a hopeless place”, in which post-reveal Marinette’s attempt to remain resolutely not in love with her partner dissolves like sugar in coffee when they start a pun war

“ring the bells that still can ring”, in which Alya is deeply confused about why Adrien and Marinette are planning a wedding when last night both were single

“burning wishes at both ends (the cold wind and long loud wail remix)”, in which Gabriel made a monkey’s paw wish and Emilie makes another

“words cannot espresso”, in which Marinette’s OC roommate is justifiably worried for Marinette’s safety, and meanwhile Adrien takes care of Marinette

“the compromise of truth” (the chronologically second-earliest part posted to date of nine lives, snake’s eyes), in which Adrien tells his friends how he won some freedom and respect from his father

“At The Present Time”, the Ladrien/Ladynoir marriage proposal follow-up to @art-deco-shrimp‘s  “Your Presents Required”

“j'ai rêvé (so I don't have to dream alone)”, in which the events of canon must just have been a series of dream sequences, Marinette and Adrien both think, until they both arrive at Chloe’s Halloween masquerade dressed as themselves from the dreams

2) Number of words written:

ahahaha no. I am not counting all my scattered fic drafts and trying to figure out what I did and didn’t write in 2020. I refuse.

AO3 says I posted 162K in 2020. it is counting all of keeps you guessing (like any real love), which (a) I started posting in 2019 (b) is co-written by @galahadwilder​; it is counting all of my meta snippets collection, much of which was written in 2019; it is counting the Vimeo passwords for my vids. but I probably cleared 150K by a safe margin.

3) Your most popular fic:

“veracity” has a four-digit kudos count, wow, when’d that happen? this is also the 2020 work with the most hits and the most bookmarks, but “tell me you love me” has four-thirds as many comments as its nearest competitor.

4) Your personal fav:

“cannot break us, not with a thousand swords”, no question about it. this is the one in which Ladybug proposes marriage to Chat Noir via Princess Bride meme on Tumblr. (if you intend to download the work or otherwise to consume it with creator style off, you want the accessible version instead of the primary version.)

5) Your fav scene:

aaaaaaaaa

—okay so this is cheating and I know it, since Uncertain Humors (the one where Marinette/Adrien is both Orpheus/Eurydice and Theseus/Ariadne) is nowhere near finished, never mind posted (maybe I'll get “Sanguine” done to post on my birthday?)

but it is still my favorite of the year. as you might guess from that description of the story, this scene has content notes for character death:

Hell is a maze. Marinette walks.

This acrid passage has little to see but damp stone, seeming blood-stained in the dim carmine light. At about the height of her heart, the faintly glowing thread cuts through the not-clammy air; it ought to be pulsing at the same rate as the heart it's bound to. She might be able to see her own reflection if she looked down at the open sewage pipe, or at one of the puddles that now and again she splashes through, dampening the canvas of her shoes. She might see reflected what's behind her.

She remembers Mme. Mendeleiev lecturing on human physiology. In healthy humans old enough to have learned how, urination is a voluntary action: one may not know which muscles one tenses and relaxes in order to do so, and probably isn't paying attention to those details when one is doing, but one has conscious control over whether one does. Usually. Stress and anxiety mean some people are unable to relax the relevant sphincter muscle and others are unable to stop themselves. It's voluntary for cats, too: it's one way they mark their territories. Cat-boys have other ways.

There is a moment in every human life when all one's muscles relax at once. Some Parisians have had several such moments.

The thread is braided with itself around her left fourth finger, rows of tiny red half-hitch knots, and falls loosely over the back of her hand to loop twice around her wrist. She holds it wrapped between the fingers of her right hand to keep it at a constant tension, as though knitting with this insubstantial thread, so fragile for something two (two dozen, two million) lives hang from—too thin to sew with, no thicker than one strand of his hair. As she walks, she winds it around and around and around her wrist.

Between her ring finger and her right hand, it loops twice.

Marinette's shoe lands in a puddle she didn't see. The rainwater splashes soundlessly onto her bare ankle and on the stone.

(With cat-like tread, upon our prey we steal— It's a very loud song.)

She walks on.

6) A fic or scene that challenged you:

where the firelight fades, no contest. this is the second story I’ve ever been able to stick with more than a couple hundred words past the 20K mark, but it’s easily the twentieth novel-length I’ve begun. (though also, you know that kedreeva post? well, 90K later, I’m less than 15K from completing this 10K fic! I think.) and I have been learning so much about long-form fiction.

there has also been a lot of weeping and tearing my hair. case in point: I just trashed the chapter 15 draft because I figured out the reason it wasn’t going anywhere! I can probably keep the first few hundred words of that draft without any editing, and another few hundred with some revision...

7) A line of writing you’re proud of:

from “j'ai rêvé (so I don't have to dream alone)”:

Everything about their partnership is fragments of sentences in the dream diary Adrien writes in ultraviolet pen. Disjointed flickers of thought even when examined under the black light he hides in the snack cabinet under packets of Super Yoyo sandwich cookies and bags of cheesy Monster Munch potato chips and boxes of petit écolier butter cookies (chocolat noir)—none of which explains the gym-socks smell. All fleeting incoherent flashes, invisible between the mundane lines of La Modification shelved at his bedside between Leroux and Dumas. None of it is solid. Adrien has more proof his room's haunted.

okay let me break this down for you!

* Adrien started a dream diary to make sense of the memories

* in invisible ink, in a book that (according to Wikipedia) is thematically appropriate and won’t (if Gabriel sees it) look like anything other than Adrien developing an interest in French literature

* shelved between Phantom of the Opera and The Three Musketeers

* look I didn’t come up with the name “black light”

* or “chocolat noir” for what English speakers call “dark chocolate”, or “petit écolier” (that is, “little schoolboy”) for that sort of butter cookie

* also not my fault that “chocolat noir” sounds remarkably like “Chat Noir”, which, attentive readers may have noticed, is not a name that appears in the story after the header and before Miraculous Cure

* I found the website of a store in Boston, Massachusetts that caters to French expats, and the yo-yo cookies and the monster chips were right there in the photos, y’all

* the snack stash and the black light live in the cabinet where, in canon, the Camembert lives; yes, that cheese smells in the real world like gym socks

* this story’s akuma was not able to affect anything but squishy human memory: nobody affected remembers anything about Ladybug or Chat Noir or Hawkmoth, not in any solid way, not even when they read news articles about the subject, and this includes Marinette and Adrien not being able to see or hear or remember their own kwamis—but you know what Adrien’s Insta post about his poltergeist and Adrien’s Insta post with the floating sock don’t show and don’t explicitly refer to?

* I love this paragraph so much (my housemates may have been lovingly mocking me over it)

8) A comment that touched you:

there are people (y’all know who you are) who said y’all are studying my style. I ded of blush.

9) Something that inspired your writing:

by volume of fic drafts that can be blamed on any particular person, the winner is probably @norakwami​

10) Your proudest accomplishment (that one scene; finally finishing that one fic; posting your first fic; etc):

so that longest-story-ever-written record I set in 2007 with the 89.5K story that, till where the firelight fades, was the only story I’d gotten much past 20K?

I broke that fucking record!

and then I deleted the draft of firelight chapter 15 😭

11) Do you have any writing goals for the next year?

I’m starting work on a fantasy novel, a Sleeping Beauty retelling in which I explore (among other things) the economic consequences of the king’s ordering all the spinning wheels burned, and I want to make significant progress on that. and I want to not make my hands any worse; I kind of need those!

(breaking news alert: bodies fucking suck. so does giving yourself repetitive stress injuries in doing one and a half to two people’s worth of work for an organization that was never ever going to pay you more than one person’s worth of pay.)

[halberdierminister]

I have been here for an entire year.

Within one week straddling late March and early April 2019, I found out that I got passed over for the dream job I was certain I had in the bag, that the writing I submitted to Steam Ticket wasn't going to get published, and the job I had been doing for nearly two years and had seriously begun to loathe was firing me.

I did not recover from this smoothly.

Instead, I didn't find a new job, and months of being short on rent and bills caught up with me very quickly, and I was threatened with eviction. Luckily, a few of my friends were willing to help me with bills so that I did not get evicted, and another friend was willing to let me stay at her house once I had to leave the apartment until I had somewhere else to move to.

That move would be to my parents' new house outside of Sauk City, Wisconsin. They offered to let me stay with them on a few conditions. These conditions are here reproduced without any editing: You will daily look for a job Maintain a first shift sleep-wake schedule No video games No gaming equipment No anime or comics No occult books No hard rock music If friends come to visit, you will remain chaste in our home. We expect your help as we settle in, and that may vary as to tasks You will keep your room clean So over the course of the move, I sold my PS2 and my N64 and gave away my PS4 and my Xbox 360, though I kept the hard drive. I tried to sell my Gamecube, but it wasn't in good enough shape for anyone to buy. I kept my Nintendo Switch, my New 3DS XL, and my PS Vita, figuring I could keep those hidden enough as handhelds. My PSTV I had lent to a friend months previously. I also sold nearly all of my physical video games, my soundbar and my television set.

On June 19th, 2019, with the help of the friend who had housed me and now owned my old PS4, I moved from La Crosse, Wisconsin -- the city I had lived in on and off since 2008 and permanently since 2014 -- to my parents' house. On the way, we stopped in Madison, Wisconsin so I could rent a storage unit. In there I put a bunch of stuff I wouldn't need at my parents' house, including almost everything that they would have objected to. In went my Magic the Gathering cards. In went my anime wall scrolls. In went my comics and manga and Gamecube and remaining physical console games and books like "The Ethical Slut" and "Werewolf: The Apocalypse" and "Things Not Seen" which isn't even about magic or the paranormal but my mom still decided to steal it from my room once many years ago and hide it in the tool shed with my Harry Potter books and Bionicle trading cards. I also felt I should keep my Legos and stuffed animals in there too. But it wouldn't be long before I could find a full time job, get my own place, and get these things back where they belong. Except I have been here for an entire year. I was never supposed to be here this long! I really wasn't! I worked a hell of a lot. Daily looked for jobs. Even found a few. Overworked myself just about to the point of breaking. But just as I finally got a full time with benefits that would help me build a groundwork for the future… well, people realized that there was a global pandemic going on and shut down stores. My company laid off everyone who had been there 90 days or less. And I mean completely laid off with absolutely no promise of a return. My boss said that if they manage to get to a place where they could hire new people again, they would love to have me back. But she also said that she doubts that they will be in that position any time in the foreseeable future.

So.

I am still here. Which is not to say that it has been a complete wash. After all, as devastating as it was to lose my job, I cannot imagine how much more devastating it would have been if I had been living on my own and had to worry about rent or food. It really is too easy to dwell on the feeling of failure that comes from realizing I have been here for an entire year. I suppose I had better take stock of all the good things that have happened and that I have accomplished since I moved in. 1. I finished my writing portfolio, a project I started for a class in 2013 and had been absentmindedly poking at since then.

2. I rebuilt my entire resume from the ground up. 3. I read a total of 54 books in 2019. Not bad for only having read 2 the year before. 4. I started volunteering at the Sauk City Public Library, which has been fun and fulfilling. 5. I have been hired at Target, Madison College, PrePlayed and Half Price Books. I even managed to work several weeks between 40 hours and 65 hours, something I didn't think I was capable of. I may not have those jobs anymore, but being hired four times in a year is nothing to sneeze at. 6. Except I haven't been hired four times. I have been hired five times. The library was so impressed with my volunteering that when a position for Library Assistant opened up, they asked me specifically if I wanted it. Though I originally turned them down in order to work at Half Price Books, I was pleased to find that it was still open once I had lost my job and once libraries were re-opened for curbside checkout. So I asked and they hired me. It's only part time, but it is far better than nothing. 7. I have read a total of 66 books this year and we are not even at the halfway point. 8. I have finished writing two long-form fics: the poem fic The Revelation of Takaya According to Jin and the literal actual novel A Legitimate Businessman. In fact, at least 30,000 of the words for A Legitimate Businessman were written since I moved in here. That's some pretty hardcore proof that I can actually write an actual novel, something I assumed I just did not have in me. 9. I have paid off thousands of dollars in debt. All that remains is two friends and my student loans. I do not expect to pay off my student loans. 10. Through working at PrePlayed, I acquired for free two PS2s, an Xbox 360, one or two more Xbox 360 hard drives, and a Wii, which I gave to a friend. I have acquired at low cost two wireless guitar controllers for Rock Band, a PS3, and all the controllers and cables I needed to make these and my gamecube work again. I also got a bunch of games and a Gameboy Micro. On Black Friday, I purchased a steeply discounted new PS4 Slim. All of these now reside in my storage locker, except for the Gameboy Micro and the PS4, which are hidden in my room alongside my handheld systems. My hubris may be showing, but so far I have not been hit with a consequence. 11. I bought myself a new ukulele as an upgrade from the one I bought in 2011. It has a built in tuner, a neck strap, and a jack to plug into an amp. 12. I am now paying my own cell phone bill, which I have done reliably for an entire year alongside my storage locker bill. 13. I have gotten three works published this year so far and may still yet have a few on the way. 14. I've made more through Redbubble in the last year than I ever have before. In the process, I have learned a lot more about graphic design. 15. I may not be writing every day, but I am writing MOST days, something that was certainly unthinkable even last year, let alone two years ago. So. There still is lots of work to do. I still need a full time job. I will likely need to rebuild my entire resume from the ground up AGAIN. I still want out of this place. I still need a way to be authentically me. But my parents have been supportive and caring, even with their restrictive rules. And the environment has probably been less restrictive than I imagined it would be. But there's so much I still want to do and so many things I still want to be that I do not feel I can do or be here. In exactly three months, I will turn 30. I truly, truly, truly hope by that time I will have a concrete plan to get out of here. But I guess I have still done a lot.

[fanficsrusz]

My Obligation Part Two- Keanu Reeves Mini Series

A/n: part two of the request by @ringa-starr and i love this. The drama is too much 😂😂 just like last time, it is a personalised fic so feel free to read it as a general story or just replace the name with your own. 😊

_________

The next morning came and y/n was still sat up in bed, her back was pressed to the wall. She couldn’t sleep, how could she? She knew what she saw, she knew that someone was in the house, she couldn't rest and so she waited. She didn't know what she was waiting for actually. Maybe a small noise? the sound of someone walking around? Someone to peer around the corner of the bedroom door? But nothing came. 

It had been hours since the police left and they reassured her numerous times saying they had found no evidence of anyone ever being there, but Deidra couldn't budge the feeling that they were wrong. 

Once Keanu had climbed back into bed after the ordeal, he fell right back to sleep the second his head hit the pillow. Deidra envied him for his ability to sleep anywhere at anytime.

She looked at the clock that read 5:55am and sighed, relaxing a little bit. 'maybe i'm just so stressed about the pregnancy, im imagining things' she thought to herself and smiled as she came up with the logical explanation. 

She laid down the best she could without having the baby kick in protest and closed her eyes, Mr Sandman was kind to her in the early hours of that morning, allowing her to fall into a deep sleep. The sleep was so deep that she had failed to notice the deafening noise of Keanu's alarm that sounded half hour later, signalling that it was time for him to get up and go to work. 

When keanu awoke, he was greeted by the soft snores of Deidra who laid next to him. It was unusual for him to be awake before her since the baby had gotten into a routine of kicking at about 5am and she would just get up then unable to deal with it, choosing to go about getting ready for the day rather than sleeping.

Keanu smiled to himself and leaned down to place a small kiss on her forehead, watching as she smiled and moved closer to him. He hated that he had to leave her especially after what happened last night. He shook the image of Deidra looking so scared out of his head and moved to kiss her stomach. "please look after your mummy today" he whispered to the bump before slowly sliding out of bed and making his way to the bathroom. 

______

Deidra stretched her arms out, yawning as she did. She shot up when she didn't feel keanu next to her. She was spread out in the middle of the queen sized bed, wrapped in soft white blankets but there was no Keanu. She pouted as she looked at the clock once again. 11:24 am. It was the longest sleep she had had in a while but she was sad that she had missed the chance to give keanu a goodbye kiss but she would survive. 

She sat up and brushed her hair up into a loose ponytail as she looked at her growing stomach. "come on baba, let's get you something to eat" she climbed out of the bed and made her way to the kitchen.

She began to pour herself a cup of coffee into her favourite mug needing as much energy as she could get. Walking over to the fridge to get the milk, she stopped when she noticed a small note stuck onto the door. She smiled instantly recognising the hand writing. 

She picked it up and read the words carefully. 

"my beautiful Deidra, please relax today. I don't want you to stress yourself and the baby out. I'll be back at 7pm and I called your sister to come and keep you company at about 3. All my love ~ Keanu" 

Deidra smiled at the small note, somehow he still made her heart skip a beat. She placed the note back onto the fridge and continued on with making her coffee. 

She moved to the pantry and reached for the cereal, but her hand drew back slowly as she noticed it wasn't in its usual place. She stepped back and looked at the shelves in front of her. It was weird, everything was in the wrong place. She knew to someone else it would have looked fine but it was odd because she kept everything in certain places. She decided to just shrug it off. "nope. I'm just going insane. I don't care" she calmed herself down, not wanting to harm the baby by stressing about something so minuscule as the cereal being in the wrong place. 

She grabbed the box she needed and poured it into the bowl before making her way to the dinner table. 

Sitting down she pulled out her phone and went through social media. For the most part, she just looked at cats and smiled at their cuteness. She then moved on to look at baby pictures and her heart swelled as the baby fever hit her hard. She wanted the baby now more than ever before. 

She was about to put her phone down and go get dressed but then her phone vibrated, letting her know that she had received a new text. She smiled thinking it was keanu or her mum and opened it without hesitation.

Her smile faulted as a picture appeared on the screen.

 She looked at the id and it was an unknown number. The picture was of a house and it seemed familiar and after several seconds of staring at the picture, it hit her like a brick wall.

 It was a picture of the outside of her house. She stood up suddenly as her heartbeat quickened, worry setting in. 

How could anyone have gotten that picture? The two lived in a secluded area with a gate around the house. 

Deidra thought for a few seconds about what to do before she began to call the police.

She was about to press the call button when another vibration stopped her from doing so. 

"DO NOT CALL THE POLICE. We don't want to scare the baby now do we? " she read the text and had to grip onto the counter to hold herself up. Someone was watching her every move but from where. She turned to look around and saw nothing. She stopped as another text came in. she looked at a second picture that accompanied the text. 

This time the picture was of the nursery. They were in the house, the house that Deidra was currently in all alone. How could anyone have gotten in? How did the police not find them? Where were they? Thousands of questions rushed through her mind. 

She panicked and dropped the phone, a loud smash indicating she had smashed the screen. She reached down to pick it up when another message came through. 

There was no picture, no text, instead a video. She held the phone with shaky hands and pressed play. 

The video was distorted due to the cracks that were now on the screen but she could still make out exactly what was going on in the video:

A hand pushed open the bedroom door of Deidra and keanu shared room and walked over to the bed. A sleeping keanu came into view and glanced over his face. Heavy breathing came from behind the camera as the video moved to the other side of the bed. Deidra's sleeping body came into shot and wondered down her body, stopping when her stomach came into view. A gloved hand stroked over stomach and the video ended.

Deidra felt sick, she was right. She saw someone in the house and they were in her bedroom AFTER the police did a full search of the house. She didn't know what to do. Tears fell down her face and she began to dial keanus number. 

Deidra ran towards the bathroom, hoping she could lock herself in and wait for keanu to come and save the day. The ringing echoed through her ears and it felt like the ringing was going on forever.

~

Keanu walked down the street to his car, the meetings he was supposed to do had finished early and he was on his way home. He wanted to surprise Deidra and if on cue his phone rang. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, her name displayed across the screen along with a picture of the two cuddling. He answered the call and brought it to his ear. "hey babe i was just thinking about-" he was cut off by the heavy pants of his wife. He stopped in his tracks not caring about the annoyed grunts of other pedestrians. "Deidra what's wrong? Are you ok? Is the baby ok?"  he panicked as he ran to the car fearing the worst. "I was right. Someone was in the house. They still are. They sent me pictures of the nursery and a video of us sleeping in bed" she said through tears. Keanu pulled out of his parking space and sped down the streets towards his house. "ok listen. I want you to go-" keanu was cut off as the screams of Deidra echoed through the phone, causing his heart to drop to his stomach. His wife and unborn child were being harmed and he could do nothing "DEIDRA" he yelled as he sped up, swerving through cars. He could still hear the faint screams of his wife through the phone. Knowing he couldn't do much he hung up and called the police, hoping that they could get their faster than he could.

~

"ok listen. I want you to go-" Deidra listen to what keanu was telling her but was cut off when someone slapped the phone from her hand. She turned and saw a masked figure stood in front of her. She screamed and tried to run but the person grabbed onto her arm, pulling her back." please no don't do this" she cried pleading for her life. Despite the fact that whoever this was wore a mask, she could see the sarcastic frown on their face just by looking at their eyes. They pretended to cry, mocking the actions of Deidra. She could hear keanu screaming for her through the discarded phone on the floor. She closed her eyes tight, hoping that the nightmare would be other if she did so but it wasn't. Once she opened her eyes, the person sprayed an unknown substance in her face, causing her to cough.

  Darkness soon clouded her vision and she felt her legs go numb as she lost all control over her body, falling into the arms of the unknown assailant. 

______

Keanu leaped from the car, barely putting it in park before he rushed into the house.

 The police were already there as he pushed his way through the door. "DEIDRA" he yelled drawing the attention of a man in a suit who began to walk over to him. "Mr reeves. I'm detective Carter, I'm sorry to inform you of this but your wife is not here. Who ever was here has taken her. We are doing everything we can to find her" the man placed a sympathetic hand onto his shoulder and keanu shook his head as the man offered him his condolences. "no you're wrong" keanu said, tears pooling in his eyes. "I'm afraid it's true. All we know is whoever took her left a note. Does this mean anything to you?" the detective handed the note and keanu took it, his hands shaking. 

The note was simple and it sent a chill down his spine. "It is my Obligation to make you happy. It should have been me".

He nodded his head and the detective pulled out a notepad and pen. "what does the note mean Mr Reeves?" keanu sighed and turned away. "it's from a stalker. An obsessive fan if you like. I took out a restraining order against her but i guess it's done nothing" he held his head in his hands as he sat down and the detective approached once again. "thank you Mr. Reeves. I will look into this personally. ''

 The detective left, leaving him in the house. His heart broke at the thought that he could lose Deidra and he cried not knowing that fate of his beloved wife and child.

Tbc

_____

Taglist: (i do have a permanent taglist where you can be tagged in any fic i post so just ask to be added to itl

@gwenebear @celestiaelisia @blondieee-me

[pentakillmaven]

The Nose Knows, Chapter 1 (NaNoWriMo 2018)

Science has shown that the sense of smell is a powerful tool, able to evoke strong memories in people. When Marinette and Adrien realize that their respective partners' Kwami have very specific affiliated scents, what will it mean for their secret identities?

Fic Rating: T/M for adult situations in future chapters (All characters 18+)

Chapter Rating: T

Chapter Warnings: Gratuitous use of French, Spoilers from “Style Queen” and "Frozer"

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12

Chapter 1

"Honey, can you reach that jar of capers for me?" Sabine asked sweetly.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng smiled at her mother, reaching up to grab the jar of capers off the top shelf and place it in her mother's basket. At eighteen years old, Marinette was nearly as tall as her father, though she had definitely inherited some of the Cheng family build as well. Sabine liked to bring her daughter along when she went grocery shopping to give the two of them a chance to spend time together girl-to-girl, and also because the younger Dupain-Cheng could reach items on the highest shelves of the various specialty shops they visited on Saturday afternoons. "What's next on the list?" Marinette asked.

Consulting her shopping list, Sabine checked off the capers before moving down to the next item. "We need to go get the cheese for the gratin," she said. "Let's go ahead and take these up to the register and we can head to the fromagerie."

"Sounds good! Let me carry this for you, Maman, it looks heavy." Before Sabine could protest, Marinette took the basket from her hands, supporting it with both hands to carry the groceries toward the register. Thankfully, the small grocer wasn't super busy; it seemed to be a lull between waves, so they were able to get checked out quickly. Sabine pulled the bills from her billfold to pay the cashier while another associate packed their purchases in the cloth bags Sabine had placed in the bottom of the basket when they came into the store. Marinette picked up the bags and carried them out to the car, placing them in the trunk before pulling out the keys to start the car. "Thanks again for letting me drive, Maman!" Marinette said to her mother as they pulled out of their parking spot.

"Of course, Marinette. I know you need the practice before you take your exam." Sabine couldn't believe how her little girl was growing up into a young adult. It seemed like only yesterday little Marinette was speaking her first words and toddling around the bakery. Now she's in her last year of school, learning how to drive, and just generally getting ready to spread her wings and leave the nest for university at the end of the summer.

Marinette was a careful driver, Sabine noted, making sure to follow all the traffic signals and keep her eyes on the road despite the sound of her cell phone chiming from her purse. It was only a couple of miles to the cheese shop, but with busy Paris traffic and lack of parking space, it took them about ten minutes to make it there. Once Marinette had perfected her parallel parking job, Sabine stepped out of the car, grabbing an empty bag from the back seat to hold their purchases. Marinette was right behind her, pulling her cell phone out of her purse to check the message she had received. "Maman, I know you and Papa have that dinner party tonight, but Alya wants to know if I can come with her and the girls to see that new romance movie that just came out. Is that okay?"

"Of course, Marinette; I didn't expect you would want to hang around with stuffy old Mme. Mazet and her husband anyway. You go have fun, and tell the girls hello for me."

Marinette smiled and hugged her mother from the side in thanks. The dinner party tonight was one that Marinette's parents hosted once every few months as sort of a neighborhood get together, to give those who lived on their street a chance to mingle and discuss the goings-on in the neighborhood. Marinette had attended several in her time, but it was always awkward to hear people talking about Ladybug as if she wasn't in the room with them. Granted, they didn't know that she was in the room with them, but somehow that just made it worse, especially since some of the older residents didn't particularly approve of a young lady in skintight spandex running around pulling dangerous stunts. She couldn't defend Ladybug too vehemently, lest someone get suspicious of her reasons for supporting the super-heroine.

When the two women stepped into the fromagerie, Marinette was instantly assaulted by the unmistakable scent of must and aged cheese. Just inside the door, a shop associate was handing out free samples of product. "Would you like to try a sample of our finest Camembert, mesdames?" he asked, gesturing to thin slices of the cheese that had been laid out on small pieces of baguette.

"Oh, thank you! That sounds wonderful--I was just thinking that I could use a bite to hold me over until dinner," Sabine said, taking one of the slices. Marinette reached over to take one as well, but before she could bring the slice of the stinky cheese to her mouth to taste it, her mind was transported elsewhere...

"Master Fu!" Marinette cried out as she ran into the elderly Chinese man's apartment. "Chat Noir has disappeared! I can't defeat Style Queen without him, and the Lucky Charm told me to come here!"

Master Fu was sitting on the floor facing away from the door when he spoke. "Don't worry; Chat Noir is fine."

"Well, what's he doing then? Why isn't he helping me?" Marinette asked as she crossed the room, approaching Master Fu.

"He's just lost his Miraculous." Master Fu glanced at Marinette over his shoulder, who stumbled back in shock.

"What?! He's just lost his Miraculous?" Marinette clutched her head in her hands. "This is a disaster!"

"That tomcat's really got himself stuck up in a tree this time." A small, black Kwami said, lying on the floor in front of a plate of Camembert. The slices were nearly as big as his head, but he swallowed one down with ease, his mouth opening wide to accommodate the size of the piece of cheese.

"Oh--let me guess. You're Chat Noir's Kwami?" Marinette asked, pointing at the small spirit. He flew into the air, approaching the teenage girl, the smell of stinky feet and ammonia from the cheese growing stronger as he approached.

"Yes! He tends to copy me a bit too much; yet lately, he's been doing really silly things! In five thousand years, I've never experienced such an irresponsible Miraculous owner! As a result, he's lost his ring and it's just me that's able to help you out..."

"Marinette?" The teenage girl snapped out of her reverie, looking over at her mother, whose face showed clear concern for her daughter's lack of attention. "Are you alright? You weren't answering me."

"O-oh, sorry, Maman," Marinette said, an embarrassed smile crossing her face as she rubbed the back of her head. "Just lost in thought. Are you ready to get the cheeses you need?"

"I've actually already gotten one of the staff to get them for me. I'm just waiting for her to bring them out."

"That’s great! And this is the last stop for today, right?" Sabine nodded in the affirmative, giving her daughter a smile. "I’m glad to hear that. I think the movie starts in a couple of hours, and we were going to go get something to eat first."

"Do you want me to drop you off at Alya's house, then?" Sabine asked. "It is on the way back to the bakery."

Marinette shook her head no. "I want a bit more driving practice first. I'll get us home and then walk from there. I need to grab a couple of things from the house anyway."

"All right." Before Sabine could say more, the clerk came forward with a handful of wrapped packages. Sabine handed her a few bills to cover the cost, and once she had her change, she and Marinette headed out to the car to make their way back home.

When they made it back to the bakery, Marinette rushed up to her bedroom, letting Tikki out of her purse as soon as she had the trapdoor shut. "Tikki, something weird happened at the store today," she said, the concern clear in her voice and on her face. "I just got completely swept up in a memory from years ago, all because of a little Camembert."

Tikki gave Marinette a reassuring smile, patting her on the hand gently. "It's okay, Marinette! It's just part of being a Miraculous holder. As you get older and gain more experience, parts of your power have a tendency to bleed out into your civilian life. Stronger senses, especially sight and smell, are common with Miraculous holders because it makes detecting danger a lot easier. And there has always been an affiliation between smell and memory."

"So you're saying my sense of smell is stronger because I'm a Miraculous holder? Why couldn't I have gotten better balance?" Marinette whined. "At least then I wouldn't be such a klutz all the time." Marinette had hoped that she would get more graceful as she got older and grew into her more adult body, but she was still the same butterfingers and trip-over-nothing girl she had been since collège. It was just that now there was a lot more of her to trip, since her growth spurt the summer she turned 15 that left her one of the tallest girls in her year.

"Don't worry, Marinette," Tikki said gently, trying to soothe her holder's frustration. "This is a good thing. It means you are becoming a better hero!"

"Yeah, I guess so… thanks, Tikki." Marinette gave her Kwami a weak smile. Before she could say more, her phone chirped, a text message from Alya catching her attention. "Oh crap! Adrien is going to be at the movies!" She jumped up from her bed, feverishly running to her closet and starting to tear through it, trying to find something better to wear than her usual Saturday grocery shopping clothes.

Across town, Adrien Agreste paced back and forth across his bedroom, muttering to himself while his Kwami sat on his computer desk with a plate of cheese. "I'm telling you, Adrien, you're gonna wear a hole in your floor if you keep doing that," Plagg said between bites.

"Thanks so much for the advice, Plagg," Adrien deadpanned. "This is serious, though. I don't know what to do… I still love Ladybug, but…"

"Who is it now? That sword girl again, or someone else?" Plagg asked. He could never keep straight who Adrien was crushing on, other than Ladybug, of course.

Adrien's cheeks went a bit pink as he admitted, "It's Marinette… you know, the girl with the pigtails from school?"

"Oh yeah, the bakery girl, right? I like her. She always brings you food. And since you're always on a diet…" Plagg grinned and patted his belly. "Croissants may not be as good as my beloved Camembert, but they're not bad."

"What are you, 90 percent stomach?" Adrien asked, not for the first time. "Anyway, yes, it's her. I know we've known each other for a while, but recently it feels like… I don't know how to describe it. When I see her, I feel the same way I do when I see My Lady."

"Kind of queasy in your stomach?" Plagg asked.

"Yeah, exactly!"

"Hot and flushed? Hands tingling? Can't think straight?"

"How did you know?"

"Sounds like bad cheese to me." Plagg polished off the last piece of cheese on the plate before letting out a massive burp. "You should really go get that checked out."

"Plagg! I'm being serious here!" Adrien huffed as he fell onto his bed spread-eagle, staring up at the ceiling. "I don't know what to do. I told Kagami years ago that I wasn't giving up on Ladybug, and I don't want to, but… I really like Marinette, too, and it doesn't feel right trying to date her as Adrien when she only knows half of me."

"If you're looking at it that way, isn't it the same way with Ladybug? She only knows you as Chat Noir; she doesn't know you're Adrien Agreste."

"Yeah, but… Ladybug is the one who doesn't want us revealing our civilian identities. If she said it was okay, I'd tell her who I am in a heartbeat." Adrien rolled over onto his side, staring at his computer screen, which had a picture of Ladybug from Alya's blog as the background. "But I'm willing to wait forever if that's what it takes…" Adrien took a deep breath to let out a sigh, but he wrinkled his nose as he was hit with the sudden odor of his backpack. "Ugh, Plagg, you have got to stop hiding Camembert in my school bag. People are going to notice the smell." He sat up, reaching over the edge of his bed to pick up his bag so he could start cleaning it out… but it wasn't there.

He glanced around the room in confusion, eyes darting from his desk to the bench of his piano, all the way to the doorway before he spotted his bag at the base of his skate ramp. "What the hell?" He stepped over, picking up the bag and giving it a delicate sniff. "Yep, definitely what I was smelling… but how did I smell it from all the way across the room?" he wondered aloud.

Plagg zipped over and phased through the material of the bag, fighting with the zipper from inside until he'd made a large enough hole to pull the hidden cache of cheese through. "For your information, I wasn't hiding it, I was aging it. In your gym socks. Gives it more flavor." Adrien wrinkled his nose again and gagged a little as Plagg popped the slice of cheese in his mouth.

"Have I told you that you're disgusting?" the teen muttered.

"I know; it's a gift," Plagg replied flippantly. "Anyway, I'm stuffed. I'm going to take a nap."

"Wait a minute! You didn't answer my question. What's going on with my sense of smell?"

"Oh, that! Yeah, it's a Miraculous holder thing. You're becoming more attuned to your powers or something. Basically your senses are getting stronger."

"So, what does that mean? I'm just going to be in smell overload from now on?"

"Oh, no, not everything. It's mostly going to be Kwami and Akuma-related stuff. You'll probably notice Ladybug or the other Miraculous holders' smells more, as well as being more aware of them even without having to see them."

"Okay, that's actually really cool. So does that apply to Ladybug, Réna Rouge and Carapace too?"

"Yes to Ladybug, but probably not as much for the other two; just because they haven't been Miraculous holders as long or used their powers as much."

"That makes sense, I guess. I'll have to talk to Ladybug about it the next time we patrol together."

"Mm." Plagg flew up to look Adrien in the eyes before reaching out to poke him in the forehead. "Don't you have something to do before that, though? I distinctly remember you getting a text message from your DJ friend…"

"Oh, shit! I completely forgot!" Adrien rushed over to his closet, flipping through his extensive wardrobe. "What should I wear? He said Alya invited Marinette... "

"I doubt she will care what you're wearing," Plagg called out. Under his breath, he added, "In fact, she'd probably prefer you wear nothing at all."

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing! Just lamenting the fact that I ate all my cheese."

"You know, if you keep this up I'm going to start calling you 'pig' instead of Plagg," Adrien teased. He ended up just sticking with his usual outfit, quickly running a brush through his hair and pulling his shoes on before he held open his shirt for his Kwami to hide inside.

"Try it, and see if I respond next time an Akuma shows up," Plagg replied; despite his threatening words, his voice didn't carry any real heat.

"All right, all right, I'll get you some more Camembert after the movie. Think you can handle waiting that long?" Adrien asked.

"I suppose… as long as I can have some popcorn at the movie."

"Deal."

Sooooooo, this year for NaNoWriMo I was inspired by the end of season 2 of Miraculous Ladybug (especially the episode “Style Queen”) to write my very first ML fanfic!

I’ll be posting chapters as I finish them, so they are un-betaed. When I finish the whole fic (and when November is over) I’ll go back and edit and post to AO3. Please let me know what you think!

[dragonnan]

In-Progress Fics (Multifandom)

These are the stories I’m actively working on.  If there are WIPs not on this list it means they’re on long term hiatus.  I’ve included links (where applicable) and small teasers for each story.  This is a bot long so I’ve included a cut.  Fandoms include: Sherlock, Doctor Strange, Avengers, and Psych

Psych:

Painted Wings and Giant Rings (rape/noncon warning) Current chapter in development: epilogue Words in chapter so far: 309 Teaser: The dragonflies were reluctant to lift off from the sidewalk – even with three pairs of feet headed their way.  A lazy last second hover relocated one of the bright green insects to the bumper of a blue car – though not out of danger. Pudgy fingers reached to grasp it – only to be denied their prize as the child they came with was lifted high out of reach.  “Sorry, Phin, mom said no bugs today.” Squirming, face furious, the baby struggled to get back to the ground – a tiny hard shoe kicking wild and impacting a sensitive belly. “Hey -ow!  C'mon Son, don't be the Snuffleupagus that only Big Bird can see.”  Still wriggling, the toddler grabbed two fistfuls of his father's short beard instead – cackling at the wincing face his actions triggered.  “Snuff-up-gus!” he chortled. Behind them both, Juliet giggled – unable to hold her stern expression towards the wayward child. “Shawn, did you just say c'mon son... to your son?” Twisting out of the clutching fingers – surely leaving behind several pieces of beard – Shawn flipped the youngster upside-down – holding him tight by the waist.  “I am the father of irony, babe.” Further back, protecting his dollar cup of mini donuts, Gus snorted.  “Father of bullsh... uh... baloney, you mean.” “Boney!”  Phin chortled – waving his arms. Gently spinning the tiny terror right-side up, again, Shawn rubbed his beard against a petal soft cheek – nearly losing his hearing at the piercing shriek that followed. “Jesus, Spencer, do I need to write you up for disturbing the peace?” Shawn spun on his heels and pressed a broad hand against Phin's left ear; mashing the right one against his chest as he glared at the approaching detective and his family. “Dude, no bad language in front of the kinder!”

OOMPA LOOMPA DO BA DE DIE - Virtual Season 9, Episode 5 (unpublished) Current chapter in development: 2 (of 4) Words in chapter so far: 7,496 Teaser:  “Alright, everyone!  Are you ready for the first stop?” Shawn gave the room a swift back and forth scan.  “I… thought this was the first stop?” Veronica grinned.  “Haha!  Not exactly, Mr…?” “Spencer, Shawn.  And this is my partner, Fannie May ‘Spanx’ Nicoletti.  I call him ‘Gummi Bear’ for short.” “Bouncin’ here and there and everywhere.”  Gus shared a fist bump with Shawn - toning down his typical come hither leer to a neutral grin.  He was, after all, a taken man. “Uh huh,” addressing the group as a whole, Veronica stepped towards a set of plain gray double doors.  “So then, if you would please follow me, it’s time to see some magic!” A press of the thumb against the green button next to the doors, and they began to swing apart.  Shawn and Gus pushed and wriggled their way to the front - Gus keeping just ahead of his friend with a wicked hip check that sent his buddy plowing into a set of cooling racks.  Metal clattering and a round of grousing followed as Shawn disentangled from the rolling racks - almost wobbling into a blue cabinet on the far wall before he got his bearings again.  “Dude, cheap shot!” Glares all around from the better mannered members of the tour - the small girl leveling a kick to Shawn’s ankle as he shuffled past her and her grandpop.  “Ow!  Hey!” Her tiny nose wrinkled at him - her elderly backup pushing up a sleeve in mild threat. ��I’d avoid any geese that lay the golden eggs if I were you.”  He muttered before moving on to rejoin Gus near the front of the group.  But all dreams of technicolor vengeance vanished at the vista that opened before him. Color - like a thousand pixies had just waged battle with a thousand unicorns; their glorious war leaving their brilliant hues across every surface.  Bright blue walls, orange ceiling, green floor, blazing yellow packing crates… even the uniforms of the factory works were splashes of rich lavender vibrance. Veronica was nearby; expounding on the factory and the management of blah blah.  Shawn, however, was locked in on the source of all that was right with the world.  A glorious, gushing masterpiece of culinary and engineering mastery. “Gus!”  His hand latched to the right, gripping with fervor at the same moment that Gus snatched his arm right back.  A hard swallow, and they both spoke with the awed wonder of two supplicants meeting their Master. “The Cocoa Cascade!”

Sherlock:

The Tiger and the Shark (rape/noncon warning) Current chapter in development: 21 Words in chapter so far: 2,349 Teaser:  While Sherlock was settling, once more, John pressed the button on the control pad, next to Sherlock's bed, to alert the nursing staff.  With Sherlock awake they'd want to do a vitals check now rather than have to wake him later. “Any pain?”   Sherlock opened his mouth and John lifted his chin.  “Don't lie.” Grimacing, the detective pushed out his lower lip.  “Some.  Shoulder, mostly.” “How about the arm?” Sherlock rotated his right hand and jerked with a hard flinch.  “Tender.” “Yeah, I'll bet. Maybe try not to move it next time, ta.”  Another touch to Sherlock's brow; concern when Sherlock didn't so much as roll his eyes this time.  The numbers on the monitor hadn't changed in the last ten minutes and John rubbed his fingers across his lips. “Is it bad?” His eyes may be glazed over but Sherlock's perception was still sharp. John dropped his hand back to his lap where he rolled a loose thread from his jumper. “Well, it's not good.  Fever hasn't gone down, yet.  We can change out your ice packs, however, and your nurse should be...” The smart knock finished his sentence as a young man eased open the door and popped his head in. “Oh, hey, look who's awake, then.”  He smiled through his thick Welsh.  “Now then, Mr. Holmes, I understand you'll be needing a top off.” Clearly less than thrilled by the affable man, Sherlock pulled his right arm towards himself, in spite of the wince it caused.  “Go away.”  

Unpublished Molly-centric story fill set between TRF and TFP - eventual Sherlolly (domestic violence warning) Teaser:  “I just wanted to let you know that... well, Dennis is scheduled to be released this afternoon.  I didn't find out myself until twenty minutes ago.  I know he was meant to be in longer but... well we both know the justice system is a joke.  Listen... call me, alright?  Let me know... well, I'm here if you need me, yeah.  Christ.  Just, look after yourself, Molly.  I'll talk to you soon.” Molly hung over her sink long after Greg's message had ended.

MCU:

Avengers: New Beginnings (not Avengers Endgame compliant) Current chapter in development: 3 Words in chapter so far: 1,415 Teaser: His head was throbbing.  Anxiety wasn't new to him.  Since The Bite he'd felt various degrees of nervous energy plucking at the back of his skull.  Those first weeks, while trying to make sense of sticking to everything and breaking way too many glasses in a suddenly astounding grip, he'd also been trying to get a grip on the flood of adrenalin surging through his blood on a regular basis.  But this... since coming back from the Dusting, he couldn't stop the feeling like... like his senses were going crazy. Like, at first he'd just thought it was because he'd come back in time to see Mr. Stark collapse; arm charred and body starting to seize.  He'd thought Thanos had been terrifying but to stand there and helplessly watch Tony just... dying... But then Doctor Strange had opened one of his spin-y portals and Mr. Stark had been carried through and Peter had raced after them and then he was in a hospital and everything had gotten blurry in his memory but he remembered sitting next to Happy and eating Kettle chips until he'd suddenly had to throw up and then he couldn't stop throwing up and for some reason Happy had been holding his head and then Peter had been crying... But Mr. Stark had survived.  They'd had to cut off his arm but he'd survived.  And Peter had... well he'd smiled at him, when he'd started to wake up and was all groggy and Tony had made a joke and Peter had smiled.  But then... but then he'd... cried.  Just cried and rubbed his eyes and it wouldn't stop and Mr. Stark and grabbed his sleeve with one hand and pulled him across his chest... It had been nice.  Weird and sad and happy but... nice.

“What Did You Do?” Stephen Strange 2019 Bingo Prompt (unpublished) Teaser: “I groveled.  I groveled my ass off. And then I made sure that I followed through on every single promise that I made to her.”  Was the answer to the question that Stephen had never, actually, asked.  Was there something on his face that screamed “single guy in desperate need of dating advice”? “What?” Tony smirked.  “You have been ogling the pretty lady doctor for five minutes.  Either you are more of a creeper than I'd pegged you for or there's a history with you two that resulted in the lost puppy face you've been sporting.” Stephen crossed his arms.  “I'm not ogling Doctor Palmer.  I'm making sure she doesn't just pass me off to; shit...” Tony lifted an eyebrow as a slender young man, pushing at least seventeen, toyed with his Harry Potter rims before angling their way through the soup of damaged, disgruntled, and one seriously put out Doctor.

“Whump” Stephen Strange 2019 Bingo Prompt (unpublished) Teaser: The corded straps tightened over his wrists with every turn of the of the bar; corkscrewing the restraints until the joints in his wrists popped under the pressure.  Stephen grunted through his teeth and rocked his head back against the wooden headrest.  Muscles twitched in his cheek from the grinding movement of his molars.  Zings of pain lanced through his fingers in a steady heartbeat; sharp and electric.  The turning bar was locked into place; his hands purpling under the crushing pressure.  Too much longer and he'd start to experience tissue death.  He couldn't even appreciate the spreading numb as circulation was pinched off – the pain of crushed tissues firing a throbbing ache all the way to his elbows. “There, now.  Lovely, yes? ��You have such beautiful hands, Doctor.  A shame about the scars.”  A touch traced across the back of his fingers; feather light across darkened scar tissue and Stephen locked his arms around the impulse to flinch. A backlog of remarks sat, wasted, on the back of his tongue – locked behind his teeth with a wad of blue silk.  The fabric carried the traces of expensive cologne and sweat; a nauseating blend of sour and bitter that caught in his sinuses.  His eyes, alone, remained free to observe; though what there was to see was limited in the darkened space.  A bedroom; that much was clear; a large bed layered in heavy quilts, several lamps; all dark save for the one with the shade tilted towards his face.  The floor, however, was bare wood; though it wasn't too dark to note the rust dark stains overlapping and soaked into the grain. A simple grocery run.  No other worldly battles, no inter-dimensional carnivorous slugs, no maniacal purple aliens, not so much as a flerken in a tree.  In fact, his purchases currently resided in a corner of the room – milk warm, by now, the deli meat likely a total loss.  No robes, no cloak, no Eye of Agamotto.  His sling ring was currently worn by his unwelcome companion – though it was a tight fit on his thick fingers.  The ring, along with the rest of his possessions, had been pocketed sometime after the heavy blow had stolen his consciousness.  His skull still throbbed and he could feel the tickle of blood on the back of his neck.  Unclear how long he'd been out but concussion was almost a certainty.   The larger figure circled the modified chair to which he was bound – much like a heavy-duty school desk with restraints bolted at every joint as well as his waist and throat.  He could curl his toes and roll his eyes but even his head was held face forward by a clamp surrounding his skull – preventing him from following the movement of his captor as he moved out of sight.  He could hear him, however; a gait marred by the drag of his disfigured right foot; an impediment that had certainly not hindered him in abducting the Master of the New York Sanctum.  Yes, the thought carried all of the sarcastic weight he'd been prevented from expressing. “I've watched you.  Oh, for years, now.”  The drag-step moved to his left side and this time Stephen did flinch as heavy fingers brushed across his cheekbone; mortified at the muffled grunt that pushed against the mouthful of smooth fabric.  The hand dropped away and then the man was before him, once again. “They never truly, appreciated you, did they; your peers.  All of those miracles... all of those lives saved... only to throw you away when they no longer thought they could use you.”  The touch returned to his scars and Stephen swallowed – hand jerking against his manacles.  “All because of an accident.”

Untitled Irondad and Spiderson fic (unethical medical experimentation and torture warning) (unpublished) Teaser: Tony had, by now, moved from the roof to the sidewalk and it was, pun regretfully employed, child's play to enter – alarms disabled with a flick of his AI.  His last visit, an hour earlier, had been a more restrained affair due to the warehouse being in operation.  In fact, he hadn't even entered – keeping his surveillance covert (in spite of Nat's assertions otherwise, yes, he could do subtle).  The first red flag had arisen upon noting the level of security wrapping the building like a Christmas present.  On paper, the place was a manufacturing plant for the military.  Nothing weaponizable; more along the lines of meal trays, pop up buildings, carabiners, and the like.  The second red flag was location.  Why would the military have a contract with a small manufacturing warehouse in the middle of the suburbs?     “Interior scan.” The recording had continued to play as he walked; mostly the sound of idle chatting as Peter explored the warehouse.   “... I mean it isn't like she can't grow things; she raised me, right?  Maybe we just need better fertaliz... what was that?” “I am not detecting anything.” “No – no there was... it wasn't a sound it...” A piercing throb blasted through the speakers; though not as ear-splitting as his first time hearing it.   “...en?  Karen!  Shit!  What was...  Oh crap, oh crap!  Karen!  Karen – Mr. Stark!  I, ow!  Mr. Stark I don't... I don't know if you're still getting this but... but...  No!” A flurry of sounds – clangs and what sounded like an electrical hum followed by Peter giving a sharp cry and, most disturbing, a damp CRACK and a scream.  There were several seconds of silence.  Then...           “It's coded to the suit!  Mr. Stark, it's code-” And that was it.

“Sed Diabolus” (unpublished - massive multi-chaptered story conceived with the brilliant assistance of @kitcat992) There is very little actual story text at this point - the current development stage is outlining this beast.  However, I can share a smidgen of what this fic will entail.  This is yet another “fix-it” for endgame.  Without giving too much away it involves a a villain from Stephen Strange’s past along with a terrifying and malevolent being from the comics.  There will be crossing between universe’s, threats of world domination, death and destruction, fire, explosions...

I have just a small little teaser below but I promise more once the story goes into full production!

Stephen gaped as the floor peeled away from the massive form; pointed ears and red skin; cliché devil it may be the utter horror it projected swallowed any quip he may have conjured.  Searing heat baked from its flesh and reddened through his own ghostly form in a way that should have been impossible!  

“Sorcerer...”  The voice rattled from its throat like a plague of locusts and it grinned with bladed teeth.  Without further comment it thrust a clawed hand through Stephen's form... and he screamed as he was engulfed in fire.

[halberdierminister]

July Monthly Goals Check-In

1. Write 250 Words Each Day Well, I started out very faithful to this. But sometime around the middle of the month, I got pretty choppy. I honestly don't know exactly how many days I skipped. I'm gonna try to write a fair amount today when I can and hope that it is enough to make up for it. Which is fine. It has been an otherwise very productive month in many other ways, so I cannot be too upset about it. I may start running a wordpress blog with a friend of mine, and if I do that may keep me more on track with these.. We shall see. We shall see.

2. Read 55 Books This Year I finished reading 55 books in May! Last month I read 10 more books. THIS month, however… I read 31 books. That brings me to a total of 97 books read for the year!!! A lot of them have been VERY short books. Lots of poetry collections, manga volumes, graphic novels, etc etc etc. But not exclusively!! I was hoping to get to 100 books by the time I wrote this but the last couple days, I have not been able to make the magic happen. But that's fine! That's TOTALLY FINE. This will be a very significant get, but I have months to get over that hump. By the time you hear from me on this goals check-in next month, I will undoubtedly be decently well over 100 books, and I can talk about why that personally feels so good then!

3. Get A Full Time Job I did not get a full time job this month. BUT. I applied to 38 full time jobs. Got a bunch of rejections. HOWEVER, I have scheduled EXACTLY ONE JOB INTERVIEW so far so that is good news! And that would be a VERY good job if I were to get it! Some of these jobs are actually pretty exciting things and I feel confident for the first time in a while that I might actually find a good job IN MY CAREER PLAN!!!! Also I almost lost my part time job but the library director was able to convince the village to let me stay on as a substitute, and it has paid off surprisingly well. I've been working two to three shifts a week on that, which is more than any of us expected. So I guess what I'm saying is I am making good progress again and I hope I can have something positive to report by the time I'm thirty. Eugh.

4. Move Out Speaking of being almost thirty. I really do not want to be here. If I get the job I interview for, I would be able to move in with my friends in Milwaukee just about as soon as possible. So that is good news. Every day it gets more tempting to just say "screw it" and live down there. But that won't help me find a job. And the job really is the important thing.

5. Drink Less Soda I mean yeah. Occasionally, I drink-a the soda. But not too much. I am good at drinking less soda than I did last year or the years before that. That's because I would have several sodas each day, to the point where it worried some of the people I know.

6. Get Something Published Just found out that I'm getting something else published today! So that is one new poem published this month! I also had my fic in the Lalonde Zine come out, but it turns out that the Lalonde Zine was more of a shared Google Drive folder than an actual zine. Maybe I should offer to compile the zine into one document? I should do that. That would be a good thing to do and it would give me a lot of experience with doing that, something I haven't really done in a while. So the practice would do me good! And then I would feel better saying that I got published there too. But yes so besides the Lalonde fic, I have had two poems published in zines, one poem published in an online literary journal, and one fic published in an online fanzine this year! If you include the articles I wrote for school newspapers, I have gotten at least one thing published every year for the past fifteen years. If you don't count the articles (or the Lalonde fic yet), I have had 30 pieces of fiction and poetry published since 2005! That's pretty neat! I want even more though!!!!!! I found a publisher's website that accepts unsolicited manuscripts. I'm going to try to put together an honest to god actual collection of my poetry, one bigger than either of the two digital chapbooks I have made. I have a friend who is a professional editor -- not of poetry, mind you, but I might be able to convince her to give it a shot -- and I would honestly hire her at full price to take a look at it. I actually will need to seek a lot of feedback from a lot of people, so if you want to read a document full of a bunch of my poetry, lemme know and I will show you what I've got when I've got something.

7. Finish Writing A Legitimate Businessman Finished in April! No new news. But just because I completed this goal doesn't mean that is the end of it! I do still have the sequel to work on, even though I haven't done any of that this month. And one of these days I am going to get around to sitting down with the printed copy and a pen and editing the shit out of it so that I can write draft #2! I think I'll probably throw draft #2 up on wattpad (why not?? I've been curious about that website and know absolutely nothing about it) and maybe I'll make a nice looking e-book out of it that I can distribute on noisetrade or itchio or something! I wonder if I could get it printed on demand or something. Obviously not for profit. But like, maybe I have friends I want to send a nice printed copy to.

8. Write More The Revelation of Takaya According to Jin Finished in Februrary! No new news. A friend of mine has offered to bind a copy of it when he has access to the materials, and I think that'd be dope as hell. I ought to work on compiling it into a nice document. I don't know if that's what he would need. He would probably want to do that work himself. Sometimes I think about the concept of making an illustration for it? I don't know. I can't draw. But I might not need to draw for the thing I have in mind. Really I should be consulting with him on that. Ah well. Either way, I hope that ends up happening. That would be so friggin cool.

MINOR GOALS

9. Finish Playthroughs Of 1. The Legend of Zelda Breath of the Wild: Finished in January! 2. Persona 1 Main Quest Good Ending: I didn't do anything on this whooooops. Getting into the second half of the year without once having touched it. I ought to get back to this. 3. Pokemon Sword: Finished in March! 4. Pokemon Let's Go Eevee: Finished in February and March! 5. Persona Q2: I have finished the fourth dungeon and gotten to The Twist!!! It's weak. This really is the kids' version of a Persona game. Minus like… the fact that it's still rated M for partial nudity. There was exactly one moment of horror and even that was like… just a bit scarier than The Nightmare Before Christmas. But I did some of the side quests and those are actually decently fun. So I have the final dungeon left. I just wanna sort of power through this. I'll worry about completion when I do new game plus, whenever that might be.

10. Record More Ukulele Videos I did not do this. I want a new microphone. These are not inherently related things, as I do have a microphone already. I have everything I need to do this. I just haven't done this. And I would like a new microphone. Also, an amp for the uke would be nice. I should text my old coworker, see if he still has one to sell.

11. Record Let's Plays Neither did I do this. How could I? My parents think video gaming is the Devil's Lettuce. And they are always home. They would notice if they heard me talking to my computer. And that is assuming that I had something I could play on my computer that anyone would want to watch. I need a better computer. A gaming computer. An editing computer. I'm lucky that these are the same thing.

12. Duolingo? I was SUPER gung ho in the end of June and the beginning of July, but before too long I petered out. I've used a couple streak freezes and have really been doing mostly the bare minimum to not drop out of the emerald league. But I've got a streak of about 208 days, and that is nothing to sneeze at! Do I feel like I'm learning? I dunno. But I am at least interacting with Spanish just about every day so that… that's got to be helpful, right? right?

This was over one thousand five hundred words. Wait! Sixteen hundred exactly.