#not trying to take away from ao3commentoftheday i love them very much!!

[ao3screenshotss]

why be heartbroken when you can just be hard?

- ao3 commenter

[not-krys]

WIP Wednesday: Nobunaga and Houki Play Go, Version 2 [Ikesen + OC]

[image from ao3commentoftheday]

So, Fictober this year, I decided to take a prompt I attempted last year and try it again with a new prompt.

Didn't finish it this year either, but it did get much longer, so that's something to be proud of! Progress!

Raw work below, no betas, I think it starts to wander a bit (thus not finishing it) so there's that. The original version is meant to help build up Houki's backstory and to help transition her into the IkeSen Sengoku world, and this is serving the same purpose, just a little more backstory.

-------

"It is hard to believe you have played this game only a handful of times," Nobunaga commended Houki, his eyes dancing with amusement at her look of complete concentration. "Victory may smile upon you this time."

"Thank you for your praise, Lord Nobunaga." If there was one thing Houki held precious in her heart outside of books and knowledge, it was games. And though Nobunaga was usually the one to claim victory in their matches, he always took her seriously despite her being a novice. It was a well-welcomed change from the players in her home who always underestimated her skills because of her gender. She placed a white stone, the board a seemingly even spread of black and white.

"I had given you the option of spending time playing games and reveling in other frivolous things," he said, "Yet you spend most of your time as Chatelaine. You are a strange creature, Fireball."

"Outside of Mitsunari and yourself, no one seems to enjoy the same type of games I do." She explained. "Besides, a debt is still a debt. You opened your home to a complete stranger, displaced from her own world. Any other lord would have been more suspicious, if not more cautious, of a young woman appearing from the heavens."

Nobunaga placed a black stone down, encroaching uncomfortably close to her territories.

"Likewise, anyone else would have saved their own skin and fled the danger instead of staying behind to aid another stranger, despite the risk to themselves."

He looked up at her, smirking.

"Your bravery was commendable, maiden of the heavens. Courage such as yours shouldn't be taken lightly."

"Anonymity is no excuse if someone is in need. You could have perished in that fire."

"You still risked yourself for a stranger. What if I had struck you down after you awakened me, assuming your purpose there was to finish the job the fire didn't?"

Houki pushed her glasses up her nose, studying the Go board before them carefully.

"Bold to assume an unarmed maiden would willingly enter a blazing temple outside of attempting retrieval of something precious lest it be lost, like a loved one or valuable trinket." She placed a white stone down. "And assuming if I had been meaning to kill you, I would have done so while you were unconscious and vulnerable. Challenging a man larger than myself in armor wouldn't have been a wise move, especially under the time constraint of keeping myself alive long enough to escape Honnouji while it was alight."

Nobunaga chuckled. "Fair enough, Fireball." He placed another stone down.

"Another question. If I had not seen fit to bring you into my home, what then would you have done?"

"After regaining consciousness, try to find my way back home, just I have been doing here in Azuchi." she paused, "or at the very least, to Vale Isle."

"You have mentioned this mythical island before, but I have never heard of such a place. You always mention it as being separate from your home, which I have not heard of either. If anyone else had with you without knowing you are not from here, they might think you mad for asking for passage to fictitious places."

"Is it so ridiculous to believe when the… what do you call them, Nanban, exist? Foreigners from far away lands?

"They have not heard of your lands either, from what we could gather from them."

"Their homes are not the only ones that exist outside of Japan. From what I've seen in just the archives here in the castle, and with the book and map sellers in town."

"And if you could reach your home, or at least your island again, what then?"

She looked away from him, her green eyes taking on a tinge of sadness.

"My original intention, I suppose. Marriage for alliances, political gain, that sort of thing."

"An uninteresting end to your tumultuous journey."

She frowned, not pleased both at the idea of returning to Vale Isle, and that Nobunaga had taken more of her territory without her notice. A pout on her lips, she captured three of his in retaliation. Nobunaga laughed.

[buns-with-a-book]

The Dreaming Lily

Part of a shortfic challenge list posted by ao3commentoftheday, the first of five fics.

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV/Final Fantasy Online Characters: F!Viera!Warrior of Light/Aymeric de Borel, Feo Ul (minor) Tags: @nimnox

Summary: Feo Ul notices her beloved sapling isn’t in the best of spirits. Nothing a good ole dream can fix!. Set during Shadowbringers (5.0) and has spoilers regarding events in Shadowbringers

Feo Ul sat quietly at the bell, hidden by fae glamor as she watched the Viera mage walk away to the bed. She had her suspicions about her beloved sapling’s state, despite her every move to hide it. The smile that wasn’t as wide as it used to be, the worry behind those blue eyes of hers, every slow step that was full of hesitation, as if she feared she would collapse at any moment, even as she spoke with the air (although there was something...off about the air she spoke to, something she couldn’t quite see, but it seemed to help her so Feo Ul would let it pass for now).

Feo Ul hated to see her suffer, the sapling she had come to know as Lily Wisteriale, the Warrior of Darkness, bringer of the sunless sea that was the night sky, her brave little sapling. As she sat, she leaned against her knee, humming thoughtfully as to what to do to comfort her sapling. It was one thing for her to say something, another for this mysterious air...but she clearly needed something more than them. Someone she trusted, someone she loved more than life itself…

Feo Ul suddenly gasped, jumping off from her seat on the bell. That was it, someone she loved! That would raise her little sapling’s spirits! She darted towards the nightstand, where a beautiful gold ring rested, decorated with an azure insignia. A signet ring, as Lily had explained to her when she asked, and it was her most prized possession. She had received the ring from a noble elven knight named Aymeric, akin to an engagement ring. Feo Ul knew enough about Lily’s own world, from both the Exarch and from how Lily described a certain place in her world named Ishgard, a land of ice and snow, a thousand-year old history with warring dragons, hidden truths, and how she aided in the ending of that very war. As Feo Ul’s gaze searched the ring, she could easily sense the deep bond laid within the gold, the perfect thread that would lead this Aymeric to her distressed sapling.

‘Oooh, just you wait, my little sapling!’ Feo Ul couldn’t help but giggle happily as she disappeared, to soar through the land of dreams and seek out the elf’s radiant spirit.

---

Lilies.

That was the first thing Aymeric saw when his eyes opened. As he sat up, his gaze was nearly blinded by the endless field of snow white lilies before him, illuminated by the light of a beautiful full moon. Far into the distance, great mountains rose, encircling this pristine field of lilies. He slowly stood, trying to get his bearings. He remembered falling asleep in his bed, at his small manor...so this had to be a dream, right?  

A childish giggle caught his attention, head snapping to the direction of the sound. He blinked at the...creature fluttering before him.

“I see why my little sapling likes you so!” The creature, autumnal orange in hue, fluttered before him. “Strong, brave, noble...a perfect picture of a knight!” Before he could ask anything, the creature darted forward into his face, causing him to step back in surprise. “The questions can wait! Go!” The creature flew around behind him and pushed him forward with more force than he expected. “She needs you, right now!”

That finally got his feet moving, dashing across the field of lilies, petals flying behind him. The creature shot ahead of him, as if leading the way through this dreamlike world. The creature flew ahead before pausing, turning to smile warmly at him. He came to a stop where the creature was, a gasp leaving his lips as his eyes met a too-familiar form, curled up in the lilies. He quickly sat down, pulling her into his arms.

“By the Fury...Lily, what happened to you?” He murmured, his gaze moving up and down her body. The simple nightdress she wore only covered her torso and thighs, leaving the rest of her skin exposed to his eye. It was as if she was a cracked doll, fractures dancing across the pale skin and seeping out the faintest of lights. Her eyes fluttered open, beautiful light blues staring up at him.

“Aymeric…?” She murmured. He nodded, earning a soft smile from her. She carefully sat up in his lap, staring down at her fractured body. “I see. Containing this light is taking all my strength…”

“I wish there was more I can do but I have more questions than answers.” Aymeric said, shifting to let the viera settle in his lap. Lily nodded.  

“Well, I suppose I should begin with the headaches. I was being called away from our star to save another, known as Norvrandt. That’s where the Scions are as well. Upon my arrival, my purpose became clear: take the aether from these powerful beings of light known as Lightwardens. But it seems I overestimated how much I can do.” She stared at her hand. “But...no one else can do what I can do.” Aymeric could feel her lean into him. “And now...I’m scared. Y’shtola, the miqo’te, she said that I can’t hold much more aether without dire consequences and...and she’s right! I know she is but I don’t know what I can do. Nobody can do what I can, the only other person is a child thrown into this grand destiny she never asked for, so it falls onto me, it always falls onto me to save everyone!” She curled up in his arms, trembling. Aymeric lowered his head, a hand reaching up to carefully thread through her hair. The Viera let out a soft noise, relaxing from the sensation.

“I only wish there was more I could do to ease this burden you bear.” He said gently. “Alas, all I can do is give my faith and love.” He lowered his head, pressing his lips against her head.

“I just wish I was stronger…” Lily murmured. “As I said before, it takes so much of me just to make it look like I’m fine when I’m not.”

“When strength fails, tenacity and conviction takes place. And I know you have the conviction to survive and the tenacity to come back home with the Scions. It was both that I saw that day, when you stood against Nidhogg on the Steps of Faith.” He let out a slow sigh. “That was the day I realized I was in love with you. That I had been in love with you the entire time.” He paused, watching as a tremor wracked her body, the Viera mage hissing in pain before it subsided. A part of him couldn’t help but become saddened by the sight of her, a far cry from the confidant woman he had fallen in love with.  

“Aymeric...please, stay with me. For as long as this dream will allow us.” Lily murmured. “When the morning comes...I fear we may not meet again in the land of dreams.” Aymeric nodded, carefully laying down in the lilies with her so as to not aggravate the pain she was suffering from.

“As you wish.”

[nomiliy]

Work in Progress Wednesday

Creators: work on or post something from your WIP. This is your weekly reminder to get something down on paper (real or virtual). It's also a chance to share your progress with your followers and give them a sneak peek of what's to come!

Fans: leave a comment on an unfinished fic and let the writer know how much you love it. Reblog an artist's sketch and let them know you can't wait to see the final product. Send someone an ask cheering them on!

- @ao3commentoftheday​

Right now, I have four long fics in the works. Idiot Savant is still my top priority, so I try to write a bit of it every day. If I get ideas or inspiration for the others, I'll write down a scene or two, or a bit of dialogue to string together later.

I won't talk about all my fics, just the three I'm most fixed on at the moment :D

Idiot Savant  (Published, Incomplete)

So, for those that keep up to date with IS, last chapter the boys had a run-in with the wolfman and had real, actual confirmation that vampires exist. Now that they're 'safe,' chapter 12 will deal with Steve's mental state and him trying to come to grips with everything.

I actually cut this chapter in half mid-way through drafting. I've done this in chapter 9 also, but I was able to combine the last scenes that should've been in 9 with chapter 10. My chapters are 'done' when I reach a certain point in the plot or complete a certain set of events. I originally planned for chapter 11 to go all the way up to the big confrontation between the vampaneze and vampires. But, once I saw that my word count was at 10k and climbing, I had to cut it at Mark's arrival. I also wanted to give readers more time with Mark, Larten, and Gavner, so having them appear in more chapters than originally planned helped. 

With IS, I really try to weave and flesh out as many characters as I can. Mark Ryter, for instance, appears in book 9 briefly as a vampet and is later killed by Vancha during interrogation. He didn't play much of a role in the series, but I wanted to know more about him and his place with the vampaneze. So, I made him this know-it-all Dubliner with a knack for illegal firearms and espionage XD He also appears in some of my other works, but I really wanted to include him in IS to get a larger scope of the world.

Lilac Heartthrob (WIP)

This is my next big project. "Lilac Heartthrob" is the working title, but it may stick just cause I'm growing fond of it :)

This series takes place over books 8-12 and goes in a much different direction than the original series. It picks up midway through book 8 when Darren and Steve meet up in Edinburgh to investigate vampaneze activity. I wanted to dive more into Darren's experience at school and his growing sense of self away from the mountain. It also deals with Darren and Debbie’s relationship, Darren’s sense of age and maturity, his growing independence from Larten, and his relationship with Steve. It's wholly a starren series, but it will also deal with a lot of issues Darren faces as a young prince and all the trauma he's experienced. Later parts of the series, like Part II and III, will also have a lot of political intrigues cause I just adore that shit. 

Unlike Idiot Savant, this series will also go in-depth on the parts of vampire and vampaneze culture that don't get explored in CDF. I'm doing lots of research into where vampire mountain logically would be in the real world, the travel patterns of vampaneze and vampires, the religious aspects of their culture, mating and courtship, the social hierarchy of the vampaneze, etc. 

I'm super excited about this series, and as soon as Idiot Savant is completed I'll be posting this regularly. I hope one long fic under my belt will really help me with the pacing, development, and characterization of this story : D

On King Street (WIP)

I literally got the idea for this two weeks ago and I'm already super invested. Basically, a teenage Darius gets sent back in time to an alternate universe where he meets his dad and uncle as young adults. It's very heartwarming and short (3) chapters), and it touches on those growing pains parents experience when their kids grow out of the nest. It mergers the AUs in Idiot Savant and Lilac Hearthrob, allowing me to get self-referential between both series. This is very much a Darius fic and deals with his emotions towards his family and himself, and it deals with the different iterations of characters between the fan series and cannon.  

If you guys have questions or maybe want to swap theories, my inbox is always open ; )

[dayseternal-blog]

Hi days! Since im currently under quarantine, I've been meaning to write my own Naruhina fanfic and i think this is the perfect opportunity to start! im just wondering if you have any tips with writing and also on using AO3 since I'm pretty new to the site :) Thank you so much and I hope ur doing well!

AHHHH HAVE FUN!!!!

I have so many tips???  For planning, editing, posting, and general thoughts.  I’m sorry, it got out of hand 🙈  Also, everything below the cut are just my own opinions (even if they’re phrased like laws lol).  Other writers will have differing opinions.

Planning Tips 🗒:

1. First to make absolutely clear, you don’t have to plan.  You can write whatever you want because it’s your story.

2. But it’s useful to have a detailed summary or general outline.

3. And it’s useful to choose your verb tense & POV before you start.

4. It’s easier for most people to write from just one perspective (limited 3rd Person).  An example of this would be “Nightdreams,” for which I only wrote Naruto’s thoughts.  Limited 3rd is useful to build angst because everyone can only guess at what the other character is thinking!

5. But if you want both POVs shown, that’s fun, too!!  I’ve done that in diff. ways.  “Undercover” and “Catskin” switches throughout.  “White Lilies” has half/half of the chapter.  “Inspo” switches each chapter.  Whatever you choose, do it deliberately for the amount of information you want to share with the reader!

6. Keep your verb tense consistent!  It’s easier to write in present tense, even though we were taught in school to write stories in past tense.  If your character is having a flashback, you can easily make that distinction between present and past by switching to past tense.

Editing Tips ✅:

1. Each new paragraph belongs to only 1 character’s thoughts, words, and actions.

2. Vary sentence length!  Short sentences and fragments are wonderful to indulge in.

3. Try to keep each paragraph short (no more than about 4 lines).  A bilingual reader told me it’s easier to process.

4. Try to open a chapter with a description of the environment (sounds, space, or feelings) rather than talking or conversation so that you can immerse the reader in the story right away.

5. If you want a beta, set clear parameters for what you want the beta to look for.  Be specific.  Examples: you want the beta to check your spelling and punctuation, you want the beta to check for clarity in a certain section, you want the beta to be like a soundboard for you to bounce ideas off of, you want the beta to check for sensitivity.  Btw, if you don’t want a beta, that’s absolutely fine.

6. If your story is set in a Japanese-influenced world, please don’t italicize Japanese words.  That just draws attention to a word that doesn’t need attention.  Italics should be used for emphasis, thoughts, maybe words in a letter or newspaper the character is reading.

7. If the characters all have Japanese names, like in Naruto, please find appropriate names for any OCs you make.  This is arguable for an alternate universe.

Posting to AO3 Tips 👊🏼:

1. Write your story on a Google Doc, then when you’re ready, copy&paste into AO3′s RICH TEXT (Not HTML) BOX. 

It’s always defaulted to HTML.  So make sure you click that Rich Text button before you paste the story in, otherwise your formatting’s gonna get all funky.

2. Before you Post, read through your story!  AO3 sometimes doesn’t “return” your paragraphs properly, so just make sure your spacing is all good.

3. Also check your words that are italicized.  AO3 sometimes adds extra spaces between italicized and normal words.

4. Look at similar stories to yours to see how they tagged ships, triggers, and genres.  The wall of tags is very important!  

5. Keep your story summary simple.  If your story follows a popular trope, you might want to highlight that in the summary.

Miscellaneous Tips 🌻:

1. Have no shame.

2. If you learn by following examples (like I do), study your favorite stories and take mental notes on what makes that story so good to you.  Is it the formatting?  Is it the subject?  Is it the characterization?  What did the writer do?  Turn an analytical eye on those stories.

For example, while I was writing Nightdreams, I studied the formatting (transitions, verb tense, point of view, etc.) in @katarinahime‘s “Serenity Prayer” and the use of description in @missa-chua‘s “Unless the World Were to End.”  I reread them several times.  I tried to emulate their styles in my own writing.

3. For the love of ramen, please don’t make ramen seem like some foreign food that Hinata has never tried before.  Please.

4. Follow @ao3commentoftheday to get a whole writing community’s tips!!  The moderator responds everyday to asks on a wide range of writing concerns.

5. YOU CAN FORGET EVERYTHING HERE IF YOU LIKE AND JUST DO WHATEVER YOU WANT.  It’s your story!

You are your own #1 Reader.  Write what you want to read because literally no one’s going to read it as often as you do!  This is allllll about what YOU want!

If you have any questions about something I didn’t cover or you’d like me to expand on a tip, let me know :)  Thank you for asking!  And I am so excited!

I hope you love your fanfic!!!!!

[ancano]

I love these daily things @ao3commentoftheday​​ has going on!! So I’ll be posting a couple WIPs for y’all to enjoy!!

Here I have The Red String That Binds Us, let me know what you think! It’s unedited, unfinished, but I wanna post something so I can see if there’s any interest!!

You can find a WIP of Chasing Butterflies here!!

So yeah, fic is under the cut!!

The dreams started when he was very young, still wobbly on his legs but determined to explore the world that seemed so big to someone so small. He saw a boy younger than him, wobbling on ice and barely managing to stay upright, creating a red line on the surface that seemed to levitate off of it to wrap around his tiny pinky. Victor had been told about these types of dreams before, in bedtime stories from his mother. The red string of fate that binds those who were lucky to have a soulmate in this world, someone who was made just for them and was their perfect match. It was said that they would see their soulmate in a dream with the string until they finally found each other, if they ever did. It was the sad truth, while some were blessed in this way, most were cursed with never finding their other half. They were said to die bitter and lonely, while those who found their soulmates were amongst the happiest on earth. Truly a double edged sword.

The dreams were scattered at first, happening maybe once every few months, always the same. Dark moonlit ice rink, too dark to see any details of the area beyond where pale moonlight poured in from tall windows on one side. The small figure, his face draped in shadows, trying to find his way clumsily across the cold surface, creating a line of red that seemed to glow on its own no matter how dark it got. Every time it would seem like Victor would finally be able to reach him, he’d wake up crying. On those nights he would only be able to go back to sleep if his mother held him close, softly singing Russian lullabies in his ear as he slowly drifted away again.

It was the dreams that inspired Victor to beg his mother to buy him his first pair of skates. He would spend hours at the small pond near their house in the countryside just a few minutes outside of Moscow, just gliding along the ice. When it became too warm and the pond melted too much to skate on, he’d beg his mother to take him to the city to skate at an indoor rink. It wasn’t long before his mother surprised him and told him that she’d enrolled him in novice ice skating classes.

Within a few months of classes, Victor was one of the best in his age bracket. Within the year he was noticed by a coach of the name Yakov Feltsman, who had asked him if he’d like to join him in St. Petersburg to train instead. The old coach had said the rink was much better, and had told his mother that he would take care of Victor as his own while he trained there. Though she was reluctant to let her only son travel so far from home, she knew skating would make him happy, and that Coach Feltsman would take care of Victor far better than she would ever be able to. And so, Victor left his home for St. Petersburg.

[pigeontheoneandonly]

Serendipity

I saw a reply to a post over @ao3commentoftheday suggesting it’s impossible to write a slow burn in less than 10k words.  My dumbass brain took this as “challenge accepted”. Who knows if I hit the mark, but I’m pretty happy with the result!  This baby clocks in at 2487 words.  Tucked under a read more, because that’s still a lot for tumblr.

Fandom: Dragon Age

When we met, I couldn’t see any part of you beneath the mud you’d earned trying to kill me. I don’t know why I took you with us, except that you were an elf without anywhere to go, and in Ferelden an elf with no home was good as dead, and we just don’t do that to each other. Naturally none of the shems understood. I bound up your wounds alone, thinking it would’ve been easier if you’d just fucking died.

The first prick of sympathy came when we arrived at the Dalish camp.  You called me my dear warden, mocking the double-meaning of my title and your technical captivity.  You flirted shamelessly with me the whole way, undeterred by my gender or my cold silence, and put me in a bad mood because I couldn’t tell if it was genuine interest, or something you felt you had to do, offer yourself to me, to stay in my good graces.  With a man for sale it could go either way.  But I saw how your ears went red and your tongue fell silent, when our wilder cousins sniggered at your tattoos, your so-called “city vallaslin”.  It’s horrible to be an in-between, unwanted alike by the society that spawned you and the one you live with, to be lumped in with those who keep you in squalor and kill you at will.  Watching their whispers subdue you angered me more than all the flirting put together. And fuck, wasn’t that annoying.

I bought you a pair of gloves.  I don’t know why.  They didn’t deserve my money, you didn’t deserve my kindness, but you looked at their tooled leather like you were reading a secret map, and I had to know what you saw written there.  You didn’t say thank you.  But you told me your mother was Dalish.  I told you mine had died.  I told you how she died, even though that’s a thing I don’t tell anyone, because my mouth moved before my mind could scream stop.  

You made a joke.  I shoved you hard into the underbrush and stalked away before I killed you.  We never talked about it again.

In fact, we barely spoke at all, the whole long, rainy road to Orzammar.  We didn’t speak through the political battle, we didn’t speak cooped up for days in a king’s mansion, and we didn’t speak as the heavy stone gates of the deep roads clanged shut behind us.  

I had been a Warden for all of eight weeks.  Alistair warned me that Wardens Joined in a Blight always were more sensitive, and all my newfound awareness remained raw as a fresh-hewn board.  In the deep, I could hear them everywhere. Feel them, crawling through my skin like worms; smell them in the still and sour air.  I could fucking taste them when we stopped to rest and I had no distraction.  

The dwarves told me this was where Wardens went to die.  I hugged my knees in the weak torchlight of our camp, feeling myself lost in the dark with them pressing in all around me, until they tore me apart, and for the first time, I hoped the Blight would kill me.  Sleep was a fantasy.  It showed, more and more, the deeper we went.

I didn’t notice the first time you offered to carry my knapsack, so tired I gave it over without question, numb to anything but the need to keep walking.  The occasional darkspawn nest was a respite. Better to fight them than sense them waiting, a constant pressure of millions of eyes on the back of my neck.

I didn’t notice when you started staying up with me.  I figured you weren’t tired, either.  I still wasn’t speaking.  But you rambled, about your childhood, about your exploits with the Crows, reciting snippets of awful Antivan poetry and singing bawdy songs you couldn’t quite remember.  But it came as a shock when I woke up, the first I’d slept since we entered the roads, curled up against the cave wall, beside you.  You smiled, still awake.  Wished me good morning.

We fucked for the first time the first night we camped above ground again, drunk on dwarven ale and being out of that thrice-damned hole, that endless crushing darkness.  In the morning we agreed it didn’t mean anything. Just the mindless choice of two bodies almost sick with relief.

You flirted less, after that.  I talked more.  I told you about coming up to the sealed gates of the Denerim alienage, hearing the word purge from the indifferent shem guard, and how I still didn’t know if my father or Shianni or any one of  these people who’d been my entire world were alive.  The ridiculous story I made up for those two kids, because elves survive on hope.  My absolute disaster of a wedding, doomed long before the kidnapping; I was all my father had left, and the truth, that my  inclinations were not reproductively compatible, would have crushed him.  That if I closed my eyes, I could still feel a ghost of euphoria remembering my sword plunging into Vaughan’s gut, that I was only sorry I only got to do it once.

I don’t know why you listened.  Put together, the whole thing rang absurd, not very sane and certainly not much like a Warden.

I do know that when the sloth demon snared us in nightmares, and I saw you stretched on that rack, my vision went red.  When I came back to myself, your brother Crows were in pieces and you were gone. A little of whatever-the-fuck that was lingered when we woke; I took two running steps toward you, so damn happy to see you without joints popped and bruised.  You stumbled one step back, on instinct, a portrait of humiliation.  I faltered and the moment died.

You moved back to your own tent.  We’d taken to sleeping side-by-side.  The nights grew colder as the season waned, and the Blight spread, and the presence of another body in the night was an affordable comfort.  I stared at the large space you left behind, startled to miss you this much.

Things stayed like that as we marched back to Denerim for the Landsmeet.  Cordial, but distant.  Hurt without reason and annoyed over it, to the point that Leliana warned me that compelling a Landsmeet as an elf would be hard enough without a pissy attitude.  Maybe that was why it was so easy for Anora to betray us, because irritation makes me impatient and rude.  But you snuck and charmed your way through the most heavily fortified prison in Ferelden to get us out— to get me out.  And somehow I was still annoyed.  

I said you must be really hard up for protection.  You crowded me into the wall.  For a wild moment I thought you’d shank me, and then for an even more terrifying one, that you’d kiss me.  Instead, you told me to consider your blood debt paid, and shoved off down the street. Angry as I’d ever seen you.

And what was worse, you stayed angry, and I stayed on edge, and maybe that’s how we got jumped by a dozen Crows in a dead-end alley, one of your bad decisions come home to roost in earnest.  Their leader offered to wipe your slate, to take you back to Antiva, make up a story and let you go home.  Not like an order, but like a friend, offering you a way out.

You looked at me.  Months on the road, and I couldn’t read your face.  And what I remember isn’t thinking I was about to die, but that I was about to lose you to this smug shem jackass, of all people.  

Then you said no.  And the shit hit the wall.  

We lived, somehow.  Your old friend went down last, and hard, your Crow-hilted dagger quivering between his ribs as his heart pumped itself out.  You fell down beside him.  Uninjured beyond a few nasty scratches, curled into a ball on the cobbles like you were dying, too.  

I asked something that amounted to what the fuck.  And it all came pouring out.  You grew up together, you and him and some girl named Rinna, a little family inside the unending terror of Crow education.  If you couldn’t love the Crows, you could love them, and for a time the comfortable rewards of your harsh training were made sweeter by their sharing.  Until Rinna betrayed you to a mark.

He killed her while you watched, you told me, your head in my lap.  While she begged your help, you taunted her.  She died with her love for you on her lips.  You both went forward with the job, a loose end to clean up, and discovered there proof of Rinna’s honesty, her fidelity. You killed her together and now you’d killed him, too.

The silence stretched as the torrent of words finally stopped.  Feeling your face damp on my leg.  There was nothing to say, but that silence was a wounding kind, so I told you the stupid story about the bluebird in the vhenadahl. Recited rhymes we used to sing as kids, playing hopscotch and tag in the dirt.    On and on, until the sun slipped below the buildings, and you were able to sit up, and we left.

It never came up between us again.  In fact, very little had changed.  A mild thaw in an undercurrent neither of us wanted to address.  It seemed impossible we’d be able to swim it; diving in could only lead to drowning.

Returning to the alienage put it out of my mind.  My family spared by the purge, but still not safe.  Murder and disease and hints of darker things make good distractions. When we discovered elves were disappearing, you volunteered to scout, as you had so many times before.  I thought nothing of it.  Until I was sitting up alone at my childhood dinner table, more than a day past when you should have returned, too paralyzed to do more than stare at the door and plead with the Maker or the gods or whoever might be listening for you to walk through it.

Sometime after midnight, you finally did.  You caught sight of me, and tendered a look of exasperation.  My dear warden, you said again, chiding this time, and before you could continue I flung my arms around your neck, too tight for you to get anything else out.  And we stood still there, like that, because if I let go I’d slap you. I hated you.  You were the most important person in my world, and if you died it would change me, and I hated you for it.

We went into that warehouse together, and pulled people— my people— out of cages together.  We read the manifest of those already sold away.  You put your arms around me, when I stepped into an alley after it was done and screamed and screamed and screamed into my own hands, because even if we somehow got justice this time, there was no undoing it, and no way to stop it happening again.  Because this was the Black City we all had to live in.  You told me then that you’d been sold, too, into a different fate but one ugly in its own way.  And my hand slipped into yours where it wrapped around my chest, just for a moment, until someone called us back to the mess we’d made.

You watched as I took the bastard Loghain’s head, and if it didn’t feel like justice for my kin, it did feel good.  You stood beside me as I promised a collection of the most powerful people in Ferelden, shems all, that I could save their country, and hours later, when I was sick back at the manor where we stayed.

You weren’t there when Riordan told me I was going to die.  It’s hard to remember now how out-of-our-minds, slap-happy with relief Alistair and I were when he showed up, fucking finally a senior warden who knew what he was doing.  That went up like a matchstick when he explained a grey warden giving their life to contain the archdemon was the only way to end the Blight.  He said some other things after that, but I didn’t hear them over the sound of one solitary thought:  I cannot put Zev through that again.  I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…

And you weren’t there when Morrigan caught me as I shambled from that room, weak with shock and grief.  You weren’t there when she told me there was a way out.  You weren’t there to see my revulsion— not at what she suggested, but at myself, because I knew my answer immediately.  I could not do that to you, not even with the entire world in the balance. That whatever the consequences, whatever pain this brought on me or on the child to come, if it spared you another heartbreak, the price felt fair.

I stumbled to your room no more than half-dressed.  You smelled the sex on me immediately.  Your face twisting with hurt and rage, until I fell down at your feet, my head on your knees, and told you everything.  What waited for us in the heart of the Blight.  The blood magic Morrigan wrought.  That I’d done it for you, that I begged your forgiveness, that if you left now I’d never be the same and please, please, Maker, please stay.

Your hand lifted my chin.  Your expression like I’d never seen before, tender and fond and something else. Something electric.  Your voice a whisper.  “My dear warden…”

“I love you,” I said.  It was what I’d been trying to say through all the incoherent babble.  Maybe for a lot longer than just this night.

You bent and kissed me.  And in the softness of your mouth, every worry and doubt melted away.

We’d seen each other many times before.  But you never trailed your thumb slowly across my every scar, from the faded wounds of Ostagar to the scrape from just this morning.  I never traced over the swirls of your tattoos with my tongue. We never drifted back to each other every other moment for a lingering wet kiss, never burrowed a face into a neck or tangled our legs or clung so close together that we seemed more one person than two.  It never felt right, not like this.  

And as I looked into your face in the dying firelight, brushing my fingers over your cheek, I thought about you covered in mud and pain and waiting to die.  Maybe the world didn’t care about us, but in its making, if there was just enough serendipity to let me find you, maybe that was all the care I needed.

[iwritefanficsometimes]

Lysa Recs Fics - June 8, 2019

So as some of you may have seen, it’s @ao3commentoftheday has begun an initiative to celebrate fanworks every day of the week, and Spotlight Saturday is dedicated to highlighting other people’s works. This week I went for a theme of unrecognized stuff, plus WIPs, just to really get in the spirit of things, but in the future I think I want to do different themes. Maybe dark!fic? I don’t know, I’m open to suggestions, so please leave them in the comments/reblogs/tags or send send me messages about it. I love fic rec lists, and it was a lot fo fun to make one. 

So I have four categories that I recced under, and two fics from each cateogory. The categories are

rare pairs

WIPs

IronStrange works with less than 30 kudos and -2

non-fic recs from AO3

For a total of 8 recs.

See the recs under the cut, I hope you enjoy!

Saying Your Names by babywarg (morphaileffect) (@babywarg) - completed - 5/5 Chapters posted - 18775 - Stephen/Pepper/Tony

This is one of my absolute favorite DrPepperony fics. It’s sweet, it rounds out well, it has all the best parts of DrPepperony. And the ending is happy. I repeat. The ending is happy. It’s a fantasy setting, where Tony is King, Pepper is his knight and Stephen is a battle mage and they work together and fall in love. Includes some TAO & Stephen, clueless Stephen, and Loki doing what Loki does best. If you haven’t read it and you like DrPepperony, you are missing out. I reread this fic more than I’m willing to admit. (Also, babywarg is awesome)

falling for death by enkiduu* - complete - 1/1 Chapters posted - 3581 words - Tony/Thanos

This is a dark fic, but I don’t want to give anything away. Just know that if you’re a Tony stan this may be hard to read, but the emotional pay off is worth it. It hurts, but in the end it feels very true to Tony as a character. It’s well written, and it makes you confront the less positive sides of Tony’s personality, the sides that are willing to to whatever it takes.

The Only Way by gurkenpflaster* WIP - 6/7 chapters posted - 13480 words - Stephen/Pepper/Tony

One of my favorite WIPs right now, and it’s DrPepperony! (No I don’t have a problem.) It’s nearly done, we’re just waiting for the epilogue, and it’s so so so so good. The Stephen angst is high, and Pepper and Stephen bonding abounds, which really, what else do you need from a good fic? Stop by, leave a kudos and comment (subscribe to read the ending!)

Citizen Erased by Imagined* WIP - 25/47 chapters posted - 92221 words - Tony/Stephen

Do you like Tony angst? Me too. This is a WIP that I have been following religiously for a time. I don’t comment as often as I should, but I’m working on it, because this work is again, amazing. Everyone has forgotten that Tony exists. He tries to go to Stephen Strange for help, but there are a lot of barriers to getting his help, like Stephen keeps forgetting him. And then things get crazy. Trust me, this is worth the wait for updates. It’s so well written and plotted and it’s completely written, so there’s no chance that it’s just going to be abandonded. The characters are emotionally complex, and just... I can’t say enough how much I love it. 

Dying in LA  by BananasofThorns *- Completed - 1/1 Chapters Posted - 567 words - Tony/Stephen

An interesting song fic that pits Tony and Stephen against each other, indirectly. It’s an interesting little duo character study, emphasis on little. A lot of good stuff gets packed into one little fic. Highly recommend, and not just because I love songfics. 

The smoothie challenge by Queenofthemontain* - completed - 1/1 chapters posted - 1294 words - Ships are background to the adorable gen happening

So, this was a fun read, light hearted and silly. It’s just a chance to see all the Avengers interacting and being adorable. There’s no love on that battlefield, except for my love for these characters.

Good Morning, I Love You [Podfic] by Codee21* - completed - 1/1 chapters posted - 4:36 - Stephen/Tony

Does anyone remember how much I love podfic, and how much I wished we had more IronStrange podfics? Well, here it is! Codee21 has another podfic that you should also check out, but this one has the fewest kudos, so it made the rec list.

Tattoos and Tulips by MassiveSpaceWren* - completed - 1 image - Bucky/Tony

I love flower shop AUs and I love winteriron, so I’m glad to be able to rec this piece of art to you guys. It’s sweet and simple and just look at them. They’re so cute!

💗

So, that’s eight recs! Next week I’ll try and start compiling works not the night before 😂 Let me know if you have any ideas for themes, specific pairings, or stipulations. I think works with low kudos were fun to search for, and rare pairs too. I’m thinking maybe dark!fic would be a fun category, maybe specific kinds of AU’s? Works over 100k? Idk.

Anyway! If you have works that fit any of the above categories, rec them in the comments/reblogs/send in an anon ask! Let’s appreciate our fandom friends!

*Authors with asterisks by their AO3 name do not have their tumblr/other socials linked, because I don’t know what the are, but if you do know it please shoot me an ask so I can add it. :)

[modern-victoria]

As swift as this is love

Chapter seventeen of my Fantasy Quakerider au.

Read it on ao3.

Author’s note: I'm back from the dead AKA exams!! I'm so sorry for the long wait (see it like some kind of midseason hiatus ;) ) but I'm back now, and will be trying to update again on a regular schedule.

I changed the ratings after @ao3commentoftheday's very informative posts about tagging and archive warnings. I changed it to mature due to the violence scenes I write. Just to be sure. Though there won't be any explicit sexual scenes (I can't write them).

A big thank you to @whistlingwindtree for supporting me and being an awesome human being :)

Also thank you to @mouth-of-god-fist-of-bone for the spotify playlist 'medieval music' by Derek Fiechter. It got me back into the mood for writing this story.

Thank you to everyone who's been reading and commenting on this story while I was away, it made me not want to quit this story!!

 Daisy sat fidgeting before her old vanity table, her new chamber occupied by Robbie, making Jemma sigh exasperated behind her. Looking apologetic through the mirror at her friend, who was trying to pin her hair down in an updo and her short hair making it definitely more difficult, she placed her hands on her knees.

 “Longer hair would have been easier,” Jemma mumbled, but smiled kindly at her friend. “But it suits you.”

 “I know you’ll make me look as beautiful as I can.”

 “Nonsense, Daisy, you don’t need me to do that. I’m sure Robbie agrees that even in your dirty training clothes you look as regal as ever.”

 “Why bring Robbie in this conversation?” Daisy felt her cheeks flush at the thought of him.

 “Well, I’m not blind.”

 “What does that mean?”

 “I see the way you look at him.” Jemma pinned a lock of hair down, then added, “I see the way he looks at you.”

 “We’re friends.”

 “You’re married.”

 “Not by choice!” Daisy defended herself, while her whole face heated up.

 “Oh, and it’s so bad?” Jemma stopped pinning her hair down to put her hands on her hips, raising an eyebrow.

 “Well, no.” Daisy answered quietly. She tilted her face down, suddenly feeling terrified of the feelings she harboured inside. Jemma, quickly understanding her sudden change of mood, moved to Daisy’s side. Crouching down next to her chair, she placed a hand on top of Daisy’s.

 “Your love is not cursed.”

 Daisy looked at Jemma’s hand resting on top of hers, then tilted her face upwards. Looking at Jemma through hazy eyes, she smiled sadly. She always knew what to say.

 “I’m afraid, Jemma.”

 “I know. It is scary.”

 Daisy’s cheeks turned wet from a few tears that had escaped.

 “But it is also wonderful,” Jemma said softly, wiping her friend’s tears away with her thumb. Daisy slid her arms around Jemma and hugged her fiercely.

 “Ouch,” Jemma croaked in her neck, “remember, you’ve been training. Hold back your strength a bit, would you?”

 Daisy laughed, but apologised, tucking a stray lock behind her ear. Jemma rose back up from the ground, continuing her work on Daisy’s hair. She smiled brightly through the mirror.

 “Don’t ever apologize for your strength.”

 “Thank you, Jemma.”

 “You’re welcome, Daisy.”

 After finally securing every strand of Daisy’s hair with a pin, Jemma was done. Both girls admired her work in the mirror. Daisy lightly touched the nape of her neck, some strands of baby hairs tickling her fingers.

 “It’s been a while since I’ve worn it all up.” She said, fully expecting no response. They both knew what Daisy meant.

 “Now, the Queen had a dress made especially for you. I think you’ll like it.” Jemma gushed, and from the wooden wardrobe she uncovered a beautiful baby blue dress, ornate with intricate lacing. Daisy gasped as she marveled at the sight.

 “Come on, put it on!” Jemma said as the first trumpets resounded from outside, signaling the arrival of the first guests.

 “How are they here, already? The ball doesn’t start until later!” Daisy wondered out loud.

 “There are families that have journeyed a long time to come here. They are staying a few days longer as guests.”

 “First time I hear of it.” She said, peering outside at the multitude of colourful and glittering carriages. Then she swiveled around, feeling giddy for the first time in forever to try on her dress. At the back of her mind there was still a little voice that reminded her, that all was not well, Garrett and his men were still out there, but she decided that for one night she deserved a break.

 With the help of Jemma, she was in her dress in a matter of seconds. She stroke the soft material with her fingers, admiring how the fabric flowed through her mirror, completely oblivious to the knock at her door.

 “Flower?” Daisy spun around at the voice of her mother behind her. Melinda looked like the Queen she was, a navy blue dress outlined her slender silhouette, little crystals sewn throughout the fabric, flecked like delicate constellations. She stood tall, something clutched in her hands.

 “Mother,” Daisy grinned, “Thank you for the dress!”

 “I knew you’d like it.” she smiled back. Something tugged at Daisy’s heart, a memory of simpler times, mingled with warm sunny days and laughter in meadows. Her mother and father looking younger, yet sporting wrinkles, but a different, softer kind. Mack’s words rang through her head. There had never been peace. She had been spared of all the malevolence of the world by her parents.

 “It’s more me than any other dress I’ve ever worn”, she said as she threaded her fingers through the lace of her bodice.

 “Not yet.”

 Daisy looked up at her mother, brows knitted together in confusion, then her eyes dropped to what was in the Queen’s hands.

 “Your father and I wanted to have you this.” Melinda said, taking a few steps to her daughter and offering it to her. Daisy took the box in her hands and tentatively traced the wooden scenes carved on top of it with the pads of her fingers. Reaching the lock, she opened it slowly to reveal two long silver bracelets, resembling the armguards Bobbi typically wore.

 “Fitz helped make them. He’s a wonder, that boy,” the Queen turned, directing the last part at Jemma, who casted her face down, hiding the fact that she was blushing furiously.

 “We’re sorry that it took such a long time to understand that though you’re a princess, you’re a warrior first and foremost.” reaching over to her daughter’s face, she brushed her palm over Daisy’s cheek. “We were fools to expect anything else. You are my daughter after all,” she echoed. Daisy eyes widened at the silent admission.

 “You?” she wondered out loud.

 “How else do you think your father ended up in love with me?”

 Daisy threw her arms around her mother, forgetting for that moment that she was still the Queen, and hugged her fiercely, reveling in the warmth that her mother brought. Pulling away, Melinda soothed the wrinkles out of her dress, chastising Daisy, though her tone was soft and loving.

 “Now put these on and go downstairs. The guests are waiting!”

 ---

 As he walked down the stairs leading to the ballroom, thousands guests travelling miles to congratulate Daisy and him, his gaze landed on the staircase opposite him, more specifically, on the person descending it.

 The hem of her blue dress flowed over the marble steps, her fingers, delicate yet rough from handling a sword, clutched the fabric, lifting it slightly up so she wouldn’t tumble down the stairs, but it was her face that caught Robbie’s attention each time. He followed her neck and jawline, now uncovered by her pinned-up hair, to her almond shaped eyes, smiling as they both reached down the first staircase and she noticed him. They both turned to the last staircase that would lead them to the ballroom floor.

 He offered her his arm, and she slid hers around his, laying her hand on his forearm. He eyed the silver bracelets curiously. She spotted his gaze and said, “A present from my parents, they match my sword, don’t you think?”

 He nodded, his eyes lingering on her face, her eyes glinting with delight. Together they reached the ballroom floor, where every guest took a few steps backwards to make room for the royal couple, silence befalling the room. A few maidens blushed as they walked past them. Roberto Reyes had been a mystery, almost no one could put a face to the name of the Earl of Darkhold before. Now he was walking a few feet from them. He was handsome, but no one could deny that the true wonder of this evening was Princess Daisy. Last time anyone had seen her, a few years ago, she was carefree, her long hair tumbling down in waves past her shoulders, pretty, but not as beautiful as now. She held herself straight, chin up, her toned arms could be seen through the fine lace on her sleeves, the kindness in her eyes gone. Instead, there was something else, something much more precious, much more softer, though nobody could name it.

 “Princess Daisy and Prince Roberto of Zephyr!” An announcer exclaimed, futile, because though no one had an idea of how they would look, they knew the moment they descended the stairs that they were them. Their names and the stories linked to them fit them perfectly.

 “Please,” Daisy began, her voice loud and unwavering, “continue!”

 The music picked up again, a harmony of harps, violins and other instruments inviting everyone to dance. Daisy looked around, admiring the smiles everyone wore. At the back of the room, she noticed Jemma, wearing a pretty pink gown, twirling around with Fitz, who looked dashing too.

 A hand was offered to her, freckled and rough. She didn’t recognise it, though it belonged to someone who’s face she’d recognise everywhere. Curious, how one can spend so much time with someone else, without ever noticing their hands, although in her defense, he was rather fond of his leather gloves.

 Gently, Daisy took his hands, her whole body buzzing with sparks. Every fiber in her igniting at the skin-to-skin contact. She snapped her eyes to his, wondering if he experienced this sensory overload too. He was still staring at their adjoined hands.

 “Shall we?”

 He led them to the dancefloor, their hands still clasped together. He stood there shyly, suddenly unsure of what to do. She brought their hands up to the side, placing her other hand on his shoulder. At her reassuring smile, he slid his hand around her waist. Daisy inhaled sharply at the feel of the warm pressure on her back.

 The sounds around them disappeared, the anger inside Daisy subsided, and the voice at the back of Robbie’s mind finally shut up. Only the music floated to their ears, leading them in their dance, and the warmth of where their hands touched each other made them melt. Daisy walls melted like fire to ice. Robbie’s walls crumbled down like an earthquake. Both of them, in this moment, were at their purest and rawest, swirling across the ballroom floor.

 The song ended, and so did their dance. Daisy pulled away from him in one quick motion. With flushed cheeks, she thanked him for the dance and then disappeared in the crowd, leaving a bewildered Robbie behind her.

 Robbie stood frozen, though every cell felt like it was on fire. He flexed his hand, as if her hand had left an impression there, while he stared at her as she disappeared between the laughing and dancing guests. Finally, he got back to his senses, feeling every gaze upon him as he looked lost in the middle of the dance floor. He swiftly entered the mass of people, setting on finding his brother.

 Passing by a large window overlooking the sea, now a dark abyss by cause of the night, only a few light spots reflecting the full moon, he stopped to stare at it.

     His body hit the ground. He heard his ribs crack on impact with the hard soil. His breath becoming more shallow and difficult. The only thoughts running through his head were of his brother, lying mere feet from him. He tried, tried to stand up, walk over to him and help. He couldn’t. The darkness seduced him and he felt himself caving in.  

 He turned to look at the crowd. Laughter. Clinking of glasses. Heels hitting the marble floor. All those sounds reverberated through his skull. All of a sudden painful. He turned back to the window, trying to drown out the sounds with his own memories.

     A voice. Sweet, melodic, but poisonous. Wake up. Wake up! He clawed at the darkness swarming his vision, but it was futile. He slipped into the abyss, his last thought how he failed Gabe.  

 Robbie could feel himself becoming restless. He did not know why the voice inside was hissing, trashing against the restraints Robbie had put him in so he’d stay at the back of his mind. From the corner of his eye, he saw all the bright colours of all the gowns and suits, blinding him with the vibrancy. He needed to get away.

 Pushing past everyone, Robbie strode away from the ballroom, desperate to find a spot where he could calm down. He couldn’t lose control. Not here. Not now.

 As he trashed through the doors, he found himself in a dimly-lit hallway. The flickering torches casted shadows on the walls, dancing with the muted music. He brought his hands to his face and took a deep breath.

 He heard the door behind him open, the orchestra’s melody floating freely to him.

 “Robbie?”

 She sounded caring. Sometimes he forgot what he was when she said his name. Sometimes he actually believed he was Robbie, just like she thought. Better she not know the truth.

 “Yeah?” He turned around and there she was. The shadows dancing around her, like she was some kind of ethereal being and they were worshipping her. Lucky them. He was not worthy to worship her.

 “Are you okay?” She stepped closer.

 “Just tired.”

 “I don’t think they need us anymore. Do you want to go to our room?”

 He knew it wasn’t an invitation. He kept telling himself that. She was too good. He had seen it. But in that moment, he couldn’t be alone. It wasn’t love. It was a desperate need that had risen from years of loneliness. He nodded.

 “Come.” She took his hand and led him through her palace. After a few turns and spiral staircases he recognised the hallway their room was in. The door was right behind the corner. He felt himself walk faster, desperate to reach the familiar surroundings of their chamber. The one that smelt like lavender and vanilla. The one that smelt like her, though he’d never say it out loud. It would calm him down. But the more steps he took, the more his nerves were igniting, his muscles clenching and the voice in his head raging.

     Do you want to avenge your brother?  

 He rounded the corner first. Bells started ringing throughout the castle. An excruciating pain screamed from his gut as he stared into cold blue eyes, belonging to a burnt and blistered face. His hands flew to his stomach, where they came into contact with a warm and sticky fluid. He was bleeding. His vision swam, his body going cold.

     Do you want to avenge your death?  

 He dropped to his knees as he heard Daisy cry his name out. It faded as he slipped into darkness. Darkness. There it was again.

     Yes. More than anything, yes.  

Chapter sixteen - Chapter eighteen