#the dead dove potential is Unmatched

[binarisunset]

we NEED to get weirder with benitezco fr

[highonmarvel]

Control [prologue]

When an audition that could make your career is offered, you move back to New York and reconnect with your estranged father, and find out his old friend is the casting director, but you’ll have to do much more than wanted to get the role.

CONTENT WARNINGS! all my fics contain dark content including, but not limited to, noncon, dubcon, and explicit descriptions of violence and abuse. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. 18+, please!

Note; this is loosely based on Black Swan (2010). enjoy! hopefully. of course, love to @thehydraethereal.

You were 10 when you realised your father was selfish. No one else thought so—he was Captain America, for God’s sake! Always willing to risk his life for the nation and the world, but never for his only daughter, his only child. Maybe one could say you were the selfish one, but while you respected him as a hero, you resented him as a father. You had nightmares where he got hurt, and you pleaded with him to leave that life behind—he said he did this to protect you, but what use was your being alive if he never made time to see it? After the ordeal with the Sokovia Accords, his disappearance solidified your anger towards him. You weren’t even a teenager yet, and he did bother to even say goodbye.

Life with your mother wasn’t at all bad—she was wonderful, and supportive, and you understood why she left your father; just like you, she was always anxious about him, until she couldn’t take it anymore. You were young when your parents split, having just started grade one, but you refused to go with her, longing to look up to the superhero she left behind. You couldn’t understand why she would leave the bravest man on the planet, why she wanted him to stop saving the world, until you lived with him. There’s hardly anything worse than getting back from school to an empty house, staying up past midnight waiting for your father to come back, and then watching him limp in, battered and bruised, his suit dirty and ashen, and not being able to do anything to help him.

When you moved in with your mother, you still felt a part of you was just undiscovered. You had this nervous energy you needed to release, you felt the need to do something with your body like your father did, but running and boxing were too undisciplined for you, and made your life feel more out of control than it offered a respite, and that’s when you found dance. You could use your body to express yourself without fear of losing control: you never wanted to go back to not knowing what could happen. You were often told this was a detriment to your unmatched talent, your refusal to improvise and let go hindered your performance, but still you refused to let yourself fall victim to potential injury, you couldn’t bear to see your mother that stressed over someone’s health again.

There weren’t many ballerinas in the small town you lived in, and so your relative popularity didn’t mean too much to you, but when a New York instructor saw a small production of The Nutcracker, you, for the first time, really realised your true potential. Ballet was your life, but moving back to New York ten years after leaving made you nervous. How many times had The Avengers destroyed that city? And it wasn’t really fear of being a casualty that made you anxious, but rather the constant reminders you’d see of your father’s heroism, and that would undoubtedly bring back unpleasant memories.

You couldn’t pass up the opportunity to perform Swan Lake. Your mother said she couldn’t come with you to New York, and you understood why. Neither of you had much money—until you passed that audition and made a stable career out of it, you certainly weren’t going to make it in that big city.

Maybe this big step brought about a little recklessness, because despite your years of conditioning yourself to poise and composure, you felt compelled to try out for the Black Swan, and lose yourself this time, to a more bold and seductive style, possibly to show your father he had missed out on your transformation into a woman.

It wasn’t hard to track him down, and you were short with him on the phone.

“I’ve got an audition in NYC. I need a place to stay for a little. If it works out, I’ll be able to get a new place, if not, I move back home. It’ll be less than a month.”

“An… audition?” he started, and you could practically hear his brows furrow, but he seemed to think better than to ask too many questions, and he sounded almost desperate though he tried to keep his voice level. On the verge of begging, he continued, “That’ll be amazing— it— it’ll be alright, honeycakes.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to cringe at the nickname, instead overcome by a wave of nostalgia, somehow longing for a memory of fatherly love you never really had. You cleared your throat and gave a quick confirmation of the date you’d be arriving before hanging up, and deciding it would be best to hold your head in your hands for a little, taking deep breaths to process this.

You had packed very light—a single bag—to make sure he really got the message you didn’t plan on staying any longer than necessary. You're surprised that when get out the cab, he’s standing on the sidewalk, hesitantly waiting for you to step out. You nearly don’t recognise him: he has a full beard now, and even though it has been ten years, it seems his soul had been wearied beyond that, his demeanour close to flat until you step into view, and he stands straighter as he sucks in a deep breath and gives a tight-lipped smile.

“Hi,” he greets, slightly breathless.

“Hi, Dad.”

He sighs in relief when you say the word, and you know why: he had abandoned you, he was right to think you didn’t consider him your father anymore, but the word slipped out, and you couldn’t take it back if you wanted to.

He surprisingly pulls you into a hug, squeezing you tightly, but you can’t bring yourself to return his embrace. He awkwardly pulls away and takes a step back.

“You’re so grown up,” he whispers as he looks at you, something like regret in his eyes. And you want to make a snarky comment about how he missed out on it but bite your tongue and give a slight smile and a small nod, rocking back and forth on your heels.

“Welcome home.”

♬

[my beloved taglist: @cowboysnbugs, @keito-123, @vogueprincess, @cjand10, @mybabygirllove, @chinggay85-blog]

[cyberneticnipples]

"God doesn't give with both hands."

Just a quick run down of Dove's life TW(mostly non-graphic description): Murder, abuse of a minor in many ways, bullying, amputation, eye injury, basically many bad things have happened to this sweet angel but I won't ever be putting anything in graphic detail on this blog.

Dove was born in 2054 to a couple living on the outskirts of Night City. When their small town was attacked she was the only survivor, taken in by the Raffens who raized the town around her for fun, scrap, and supplies. The Wraith couple that pulled her from her dead father's grasp saw the potential to raise her in their ranks or dispose of her when they grew tired. They mockingly named her, seeing her white-blonde wisps.

As far as parents go, they kept her fed, mostly kibble, enough to stay alive. They weren't the worst of the Raffens, but had a heavy hand that matched their neverending strictness. When she was 7 there was an accident with CHOOH2 that left her blinded. Everyone arguing over whether she'd be easier to dispatch over the loss instead of finding her new optics is something she'll never forget. They gave her an unmatched pair pulled out of two dead nomads they “came across” months later that she had to work to earn back the lost eddies. Mostly given “bitch work” of cleaning guns, doing laundry, and patching up clan members in the med tent, she enjoyed it. It wasn't hard to stay out of trouble until the other younger kids noticed she was different. Softer, kinder, weaker.

At 13 both of her parents died in a raid. She didn't miss them. Without them around, Dove did her best to blend and not make a fuss. Taking the cruelty without a complaint and getting her tasks done to be valuable. It was all she knew anyway. Wraiths weren't kind to anyone, not even each other. Unless, of course, they needed something and someone further up the food chain had it. Her only friend was Jonah, a boy a few years older than her who snuck her extra food and distracted the other kids from any ire they felt towards her.

When she was 16 she klepped a cigarette from someone's belongings and he chose to remove her right arm above the elbow in front of the entire clan as punishment for stealing- she wouldn't get a cyberarm until she was 20 and could afford one with smuggling money. This is where her hatred of mantis blades stems from. Shortly after losing her arm, she and Jonah had a falling out and he leaves for Night City, having begged her to join him but she declined.

Without Jonah to supplement her needs, she had to start taking on smuggling jobs into the city or risk death. These trips were her first time entering the city. Most of her jobs were drug and stolen cyberware related. Very few hiccups. She rubbed elbows with mostly Maelstrom supplying Totentanz with a steady stream of illicit goods and tech picked up from Badlands raids.

When she was 19 she helped a captive of her clan escape which set off the chain of events that lead to her leaving herself, finally ready without outside influence to attempt to make it on her own in the city.

[lucithornz]

My Top 10 Favorite Fanfiction Tropes

I wanted to make this list, as I think it's probably the best way to get to know me as a writer and a reader. This isn't strictly in order. But these tropes are what I devour as a reader, and live for as a writer.

Angst - I am a masochist™ so I cannot get enough angst, be it emotional, physical or some combination of the two. I want to be hurt by words, and I hope if you've read my fics you've cried at least once, or wished you could take back the kudos. But from a writing perspective conflict is really where plot and character motivation come from, so it's a really essential ingredient to my style of storytelling.

Slow burn - I like long stories(Stormlight Archive fan here) the payoff for 100k words of buildup is truly unmatched. As a writer it can be frustrating having to wait so long to write/publish certain scenes, but it serves as good motivation too.

Pining/Mutual pining - I mean, this goes right along with angst and slow burn. I like reading about the conflicted feelings, series of missed chances. All that good stuff. It does have to be two sided though.

Dark Fic/Dead Dove - Look, as a grimdark fantasy fan this is my bread and butter. I filter FOR dead-dove fics, hoping to find some thought provoking horror. It's a genre taste thing. I don't publish this as much, but I'd like to.

Enemies to Lovers - but like proper enemies to lovers, like these people better have tried to kill each other at some point. It's spicy, dark, and the possibilities for angst are endless.

Friends to Lovers - this has to be on my list because several of my favorite ships of all time fall under this category. Once again, the tension of trying to turn a long time friendship into a romantic one is fraught with problems, and comes with mutual pining.

Fake Dating - I have never been let down by this trope yet. This one is also interesting because it has a lot of comedy potential, which is fun. Angsty shenanigans at it's finest.

Crack Treated Seriously - so many of the best fics I've read fall into this category. It's really where the bounds of genre and literary devices get pushed. Some truly fucked up, and hilarious situations come from these. I don't know what it is about this trope specifically that appeals to some of the most talented fic writers.

Plot with Porn - that's right, heavier on the plot, but also getting to see those intimate moments between characters *chefs kiss*

Hurt Comfort - I prefer things on the side of hurt, with eventual comfort. This is a great trope to balance with angst as it promises some softer moments. But what I like in my writing is to have the hurt linger, almost make it seem like there won't be any comfort, then finally get that relief.

Bonus number 11! Friends with Benefits - I like this dynamic because it just sets up the potential for so many of my other favorite tropes(fake dating, pining, angst, friends to lovers, PWP, slow burn etc) Really is one of those things where I know if this is tagged that it will probably include a lot of my other faves. I also love writing this as it is an angst goldmine.