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X-men, Nightcrawler~Wolverine, take me to church, for luckweaver

The Elder Congregation

To Kurt’s surprise, Wolverine remembers when to stand up and when to sit down, and even recognizes some of the more complicated Catholic liturgies, and to his even greater surprise the same tiny female pensioners who gave Kurt a hard time for being German back when he first joined just seem to love Canadians. It takes Kurt half an hour to disentangle Wolverine from the lavender-scented clutches of the elder congregation, and when he’s done his friend just looks at him and growls. “Never speak of this again.”


Star Trek, Kirk/Bones, the inevitable, for luckweaver.

Another Word for Inevitable is Fate

“Do you believe in destiny?”

It’s not Jim’s best chat up line, or even, sad to say, his worst, and Bones looks at him as if he’s crazy. “Of course not,” he says, “I believe in science.”


Greek Mythology, Hades/Persephone, and I'm thrashing on the line/somewhere between desperate and divine, for vialethe


“I wish I was a mortal woman,” she tells him in anguish and fear, because if she was mortal he might not want her.

“You don’t,” he says, eyes hooded. “I should know.”


Greek Mythology, Cassandra/Apollo, Tell you miserable things after you are asleep, for vialethe

A Little Sun

Cassandra cannot hate him conscious, and so she tells soft truths when he’s asleep. She speaks of exactly how he will be forgotten, how the sun itself will be measured and mapped by sharp-eyed men, its power tamed, how somewhere, two thousand years from now, someone will name a plane for their mother and drop a bomb that decimates a land to win a war. “A little sun.”


Marvel, Jane/Thor, witty banter

What Passes As Wit These Days, for unknown

“And then, she says, “you push him off, and say something like ‘have a nice trip’.”

“That’s not witty, that’s psychopathic.”

She shrugs, “To each their own.”

communi_kate: (monkey)
 The three sentence ficathon this year is over at [personal profile] caramelsilver 's livejournal, and starts on the 27th of November, US time. Visit and have fun!
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 photo 93d6de2a-3dc0-4f51-8fe2-117f98d4b96b.jpg
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I have fanart for A Thousand Days! Drawn by the amazing Caroline Parkinson

My favorite parts are the tiny steps on the right hand side. That,and the figures. Malik always looks so exasperated.

A Thousand Days cover

communi_kate: (Default)
Okay, it's done!!! Chapters 6-11 of Thousand Days are up on A03, which brings the story, and Malik and Altair's adventures, to a close. Read it here!
Link to AO3, because the formatting's way prettier. Also posted on, because old habits die hard. Much love to caroline for beta reading. If you liked it, or you really didn't, if I've added tomatoes or doorhandles or anything else that wasn't around at the time, or if you just want to chat, message me. 

Fanart following soon! Yes, fanart, how fantastic!

Title: A Thousand Days
Fandom: Assassin's Creed
Rating: Strong 15
Warnings: Violence and death
Summary: When the Alamut Assassins are captured by Salah al-din's soldiers, Malik forms an unlikely alliance to save their lives, but as usual, events don't go entirely as planned.

For I dream of towers falling, and all my kingdoms fail...

The Assassin's Creed fandom is always fun! I have lots and of love for the Third Crusade; it's an an intriguing period, with plenty of strong historical characters and interesting events and trivia. And the Fourth Crusade, when the Crusaders headed for Jerusalem but ran out of money, so the old blind doge of Venice convinced them to raid Byzantine Christian Constantinople instead (that's where they got the Horses of Saint Mark's). And history geeking aside, you have to love the antagonistic/sarcastic relationship between Altair and Malik. Together, they fight crime, or you know, evil masters, whatever.
communi_kate: (Default)
The next two instalments of Thousand Days are up on AO3! Check out chapters 4 and 5 below!

A Thousand Days
Assassins Creed
Rating: Strong 15
Warnings: Violence, intimacy
Summary: Salah al-din's soldiers hunt for the Jerusalem bureau, and Malik seeks help from an unexpected source.
The Assassins didn't believe in fate, predestination, or anything they couldn't kill...
communi_kate: (Default)
Okay, epic fic is epic, and chapters 1-3 are up on AO3. Fic is finished, so more soon to follow. I'm really excited about this one! Check it out!

: A Thousand Days
Fandom: Assassin's Creed
Rating: 15
Warnings: Violence, mention of sex, historical inaccuracy
Summary: The Order is in disarray following Al Mualim's death. Saladin has retreated to Jerusalem as the Crusaders sweep across the Holy Land. As the Assassins' foothold in the city grows more precarious by the day, Malik al-Sayf, rafiq of Jerusalem, recieves an unwelcome message from the Assassins of Alamut.
Jerusalem is ours as much as yours...
communi_kate: (monkey)
There's got to be a story in this somewhere...
The Weirdest Crime In History, over at io9
My favorite comment is the photo of the Laughing Cavalier. Haters gonna hate, indeed.
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So Marie Brennan wrote fanfiction for Mary Robinette Kowal's Glamourist Histories series. It's great fic, with a smutty edge and a teasing relationship between the partners that is one of my favorite parts of actual relationships but seems sadly lacking in most fictional affairs (roses! moonlight! angst! but no washing of dishes or snarking about tv). Link to fic on Archive of Our Own.
A Classical Education on AO3
So then Mary Robinette Kowal wrote reciprocal fic for Marie Brennan's Natural History of Dragons series. It's not smutty, but it is epic. I think it's supposed to be a nod to Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries, but seeing as I have no feckin' idea what that is, I'll just say it's well worth a read.
A Study In Serpents on AO3

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 So, turns out I've not been posting recently. Reason is, I've been working on an epic novel-length fic. (and starting my own business, and moving about twelve thousand miles, again, but that's another story) This is pretty much the first long fic I've finished entirely before posting (I'm usually much more of an instalment writer) and it's been really fun, but it's taken me over six months, and that's not including, edits, or beta reading. I'll post the fic on the journal, and AO3 at the end of the month.

Epics are great-The Dark Tower series, Lord of the Rings, and the 2014 MotoGP season are some of my favourites. What's your favourite epic and why?
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So like nearly everyone else on the Internet, I spend the weekend watching Mad Max, and I still haven't shaken the urge to weld spikes on my VW Polo.
Anyway, like most other people on the Internet, I loved the movie. Who wouldn't? A feminist apocalyptic fantasy set in the desert with cool cars! The plot's similar to my favorite Mad Max movie, the second one (Road Warrior). Charlize Theron is AWESOME. I cannot emphasize this enough. And there's a whole matriarchy of motorcycle wearing grannies and holy shit I think I just found my post-apocalyptic occupation. So here we come to the real purpose of this post: if you've seen the movie too and you're geeking out these two links are REALLY sweet:

Wives, Warlords and Refugees: The People Economy of Mad Max, on Kameron Hurley (yes, that Kameron Hurley, the one who wrote 'We Have Always Fought') 's blog.Thought-provoking and apt, Hurley's blog is always worth a read.

Welcome to Your Steampunk Future (Sorry There's No Water But We Did Put Skulls On Everything) by Mallory on the Toast. The Toast is feminist and fucking hilarious. The comments aren't the best bit, but they're close.

oh and I wrote fic...

communi_kate: (Default)
Title:Ghosts and Gasoline
Fandom: Mad Max
Rating: 15:
Warnings: Swearing, non-explicit sex.
Summary: Post-game Max/Furiosa.
He's been running on empty for so long he's forgotten what it means to run full... )
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Terry Pratchett died last week. He was the first author I ever met in person (books were permanent fixtures of my childhood, like trees, sofas or mountains, and I'd never before stopped to think that someone, somewhere, actually had to create them) and he had a huge influence upon me as a reader and a writer. Rest in peace, Sir Terry, and best wishes to your family.
communi_kate: (Default)
...half way and sixty pages through the epic fic of epicness that A Thousand Days is turning out to be. But who cares! BRING ON THE FIC.

Three Sentence Ficathon
communi_kate: (monkey)
Happy New Year and  Haere mai from New Zealand!

Yes, it's 2015 and it's time for another New Year's post! This year was a pretty good year. Plenty of fic was written, despite (or maybe because of) a fairly challenging workload that's promised to lighten somewhat in early 2015. Books were read, movies watched, games played, scenery seen.

Fics: 10, plus three sentence stories, and the first chapter of A Thousand Days, my final attempt to put the AC fandom to bed. Or something.

The World Against Us Cry: AC: Black Flag. Worrying gay pirate smut. Despite the premise, I think this one's reasonably well written, so if worrying gay pirate porn is your thing, you might wanna give it a go.Edward/Roberts. 

All Ill-Got Gain: AC Black Flag: Consensual pirate smut. Again, I like this one, if only for the sheer number of contemporary resources available. Adewale/Edward. Best read with nobody else in the house and a large rum and coke. 

Never No More:AC Black Flag. Anne Bonny, postgame.Sort of melancholy and a bit weird, I guess.

We All Are Earth: I think this is the best fic I've written this year. Assassin's Creed AU. Kadar/Robert. Looks like 2014 was the year I well and truly embraced the slash. Maria's in this one, and she's pretty cool. Plus her and Kadar have a bromance and gossip about their mutual admiration of Altair.

All That Remains Is The Arms of the Angels: Mass Effect, for lithiumdoll. Thane Krios apocafic. Thane kills a world and then regrets it. Started out long, got short then ended up long again.Maybe should have stayed short? Best read whilst circling a dying sun.

Hunting The Hare: Game of Thrones, for etoilecourageuse. Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark. Hot pools and smutty innuendo for rarepairfest. I'm surprised this pairing doesn't get more love. 

In The Rays of a Beautiful Sun: Guardians of the Galaxy. Fun fluff in keeping with the spirit of the movie. Thanks to the commenter who pointed out that the Enterprise did in fact have weapons (dammit!)

Alaska Route One:Pacific Rim. AU apocalytofic. Stacker and Mako save each other. Written for lithiumdoll. Would have been better if I'd had more time to edit.

All The World's A Stage: AC Black Flag.Blackbeard prequel. Featuring my favourite church! In a world without gold, he could've been -an actor? For smutmonkeyuk.

The Subject Tonight Is Love: Assassin's Creed Malik/OC (and OH DEAR GOD not a selfinsert). The start of the story that ultimately became A Thousand Days.

A Thousand Days (ongoing) Assassin's Creed postgame historical epic. Saladin! Swordfights! Thrilling rooftop chases. Next installment coming soon to a computer near you! Best read with dust in your hair and sweat on your forehead. 

Word count: 75, 354, about 25% over my average yearly 50,000. Pretty good.

Life events: still in NZ, celebrated four year anniversary (yay), took my first scenic flight (probably the closest thing to a spiritual experience I will ever have), climbed some mountains, drank some damn good beer and extended my appreciation to some damn fine port as well.

2015 didn't start out great when our planned activity was cancelled at the last minute (getting up at 5.45 am on New Year's Day was not exactly one of my favorite things ever) and it's about to head steeply downhill what with working the next 2 weeks straight and on call for six of the first eight nights but at least this year nobody's dying. Thank God. 

Haere ra,


communi_kate: (Default)
Hey..remember that postgame angsty Malik fic I wrote four years ago? Well, it has a sequel! Two sequels in fact. I've been waiting to write this fic every since I read about the siege of Jerusalem a few months after the events of the first game. It has swordfights! Saladin! Sarcasm! Multiple historical inaccuracies! God I still love this fandom.

Here's the original..Length of God's Patience, sixteen thousand words of post-game Assassin angst featuring everyone's favorite one-armed Assassin.

Title: The Length of God's Patience
Rating; PG-13
Warnings: Spoilers and violence
Summary: Malik struggles with the loss of his arm and his new position as head of the Jerusalem Assassin's Bureau

Your presence here deprives me of both...

Here's the first sequel; The Subject Tonight is Love, the start of a much longer fic that kept heading off in another direction entirely. Five thousand words of conversation and innuendo. Malik/OFC.

Title: The Subject Tonight is Love
Rating: PG
Warnings: Nothing more alarming than the word 'prostitute'
Summary: Takes place immediately after LOGP. The Assassin's Creed doesn't cover every situation in which Malik finds himself.

Your Jerusalem must be a very lonely place...

And the second sequel: A Thousand Days, a novella length and very much in progress adventure story inspired by my discovery that the siege of Jerusalem happened only months after the ending of the game.

Title: A Thousand Days
Rating: 15
Warnings: Violence and historical inaccuracies.
Summary:Post-game. The Order is in disarray following Al Mualim's death. Saladin has retreated to Jerusalem as the Crusaders sweep across the Holy Land. As the Order's foothold in the city grown more precarious by the day, Malik al-Sayf, rafiq of Jerusalem, recieves an unwelcome message from the Assassins of Alamut.

Jerusalem is ours as much as yours...

Have fun. I'll be over here trying to convince myself that writing fan-fiction for a game released seven years ago is retro rather than sad.
communi_kate: (Default)
I went to see the final Hobbit movie last night, and enjoyed it despite truckloads of filler.
Here in NZ the movie was prefaced by a ten-minute short featuring the actors and producers thanking New Zealand and Kiwis for being so damn awesome, a sentiment I wholeheartedly share.

So here's a poem from Goblin Fruit to celebrate, Kites, by Bonnie Jo Stufflebeam.

She drags the dragon through the setting sun.
It parts the orange ocean with its claws.
There is no string. She wields the beast, the run
of tail over the water silk, by caw:
a song to summon spirits from the dirt.
Her voice stampedes the murmur of black veins
that plead us please fill raw this earth.
With shivering gold wings, the dragon tames
a brewing war stuck deep in belly's gut.
Silent are all who watch her trick the wind.
They cannot smile or grin or laugh or cut
a word from blocks of words or mend
their longing to fly high as kites. They puff
their pipes while she, so far from them, smokes night.
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This is great! I love fic challenges, but tend not to prompt myself, so I'm getting into it. None of these are what I would have written, and that is wonderful!

Game of Thrones, Daenerys, I am a lighthouse in a desert and I stand alone, filled by [ profile] silvr_dagger 

She sees it while crossing the Waste, a stone tower standing on the crest of a hill, overlooking a cracked and barren plain. A lighthouse, Jorah tells, relic of oceans long gone dry; the khalasar mutters of haunted ground, and she leads them quickly onward, unwilling to disturb this land's ghosts - but she looks back as she passes and shivers to see it keeping its vigil there, stern and lonely and entirely useless.
It strikes her as a cruel fate, for something meant to light the way, and it seems then as though she cannot put it behind her soon enough - but in the desert of Mereen, she dreams that she stands on a promontory above receding waters to watch the world change beyond reckoning, crowns cast down and empires toppled, and she wakes alone to dust in her throat and the knowledge that she cannot put it behind her at all.


Dragon Age, Varric, writers are liars, my dear, filled by [ profile] classicslover 

Some people never learned not to play Wicked Grace for actual money when Varric was getting ready to publish. Those in the know avoided his legendary poker face. When it was brought to his attention, usually by Aveline, complaining that he had cheated them, Varric simple laughed and explained that fiction was in his blood.

The Hobbit, Thorin Oakenshield, by night all cats are grey, filled by [ profile] nessaniel

Glory has died here, long ago, he had seen it go up in brash gold flames and some ashes are probably best left for the wind to scatter across the lands.
There is no king under the mountain anymore, Thorin thinks, as he looks at his fellowship of lost souls, tinkers, toy makers and strays.
This is all he has, this is all he is: a king of cats.

Assassin's Creed, Altair, scandent, filled by [ profile] backland

Altaïr climbs, as he was born and bred to; trained and honed and disciplined enough that he reached the Master class sooner than anyone else before him, though it never felt like a grand achievement, just another step in the ladder, and maybe that's why when it all came crashing down and he was a novice again it never felt like that much of a shock, because Altaïr knows how to climb down too, knows all the ways that your foothold can slip and sending you tumbling down.
He climbs so that he may bring people with him, clutching at his back, kicking and screaming in their fear of the unknown, of breaking away from the common denominator that keeps them chained to the muck and inequalities and utter unfairness of it all, because it's all they've ever known, yet still Altaïr climbs, because he has risen above and seen what awaits at the uppermost point of humanities potential.
Altaïr changes lives, changes history, and to do so he steps over himself, his hopes and dreams and desires, digs his fingers and the soles of his feet into them and pushes them down so that he may keep going, getting just that much higher, and with each centimeter gained he gets farther and farther away from them until he is so high up that he can no longer see them at all.

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 ASOIF, Arya and Sansa, at the end of all things for [ profile] silvr_dagger 

At The End of All Things

They stand atop the Wall and stare together at the end of the world.The Iron Throne is Sansa's now and she needs no other sword, though Arya beside her carries enough knives for two. Their wolves pace nervously along the ice-slick path that runs along the Wall as they watch the White Walkers come.

FF8,Seifer, now or never for [ profile] adraekh

Now or Never

She said it's now or never, and it should have been never.
Seifer quenches his cigarette with a whisper of frost and thinks how nice it would have been to know that at the time.
Can't go back,” he says, and takes her hand.

FF10, Auron, journey's end for [ profile] silvr_dagger

Journey's End

We will make a flute from your bones,” the Ronso promises as he leans over Auron's body.
Auron opens his mouth to tell the Ronso he doesn't care what happens to his bones as long the Ronso promises to do as Auron tells him, but there is a sharp pain in his chest and he is very, very tired.
He takes a deep breath and holds it as long as he can before he exhales with a sigh, and then he's gone.

The Borgias, Lucrezia/Cesare, bound in blood for [ profile] caramelsilver

A Rose for the Borgias

The rose is egg- yolk yellow, as yellow as the leaves that float down the Tiber in autumn to rot. Lucrezia takes the flower by its stem without flinching and wonders whether to tell Cesare that yellow roses symbolize infidelity.
But then, she thinks, why else would he have given me a rose?

Twelfth Night, Viola, fluid, for [ profile] lizzie_marie_23


She has heard there is a land far from Illyria where they call the demi monde the floating world, where courtesans and acrobats mingle in the lantern light beside fast flowing rivers as they ply their water trade and boys and girls are never what they seem. Viola has always found the description peculiarly appropriate.
Women are like water, she thinks as she painstakingly glues the first of many boars' bristles onto her upper lip, they always change

Dragon Age:Origins: any origin + any other origin, you think you've had it tough? for [ profile] classicslover

Two Fantasy Protagonists

We 'ad to catch a nug every morning for breakfast with a broken piece of string just to stay alive,” Warden Brosca said, frowning so the casteless brand on her cheek creased into a dark smudge, “and then for afters Ma'd let us lick the lichen from the rocks for dessert.”
Warden Mahariel raised one elegant Elvish eyebrow; “My mother was eaten by wolves,” she said, “and every morning my old aunt'd make us climb seven hundred feet straight up a kauri tree to scrape off a handful of moss from the topmost branches for our breakfast, and that was our only meal of the day, and the Dalish don't believe in dessert.”
All right, said Warden Brosca grudgingly around another mouthful of ale, “you win.”

Inception, Ariadne/Arthur, slow dancing around the living room at three am to Frank Sinatra, for anonymous.

You and Frank Sinatra

They finish the maze, finally, in the living room of Ariadne's new apartment in Barcelona, at quarter to three in the morning and there's not a soul awake in the building except Arthur and Ariadne and the husky voice of Frank Sinatra on the midnight radio. Ariadne yanked the carpet up hours ago to draw patterns on the floorboards, and Arthur traces the route through the maze with the toe of his chalk-scuffed wingtip, singing one more for my baby and one more for the road.
Somewhere along the line the tap of feet on floorboards becomes a jaunty dance, and when Ariadne protests sotto voce that he'll wake the neighbours he switches to a waltz and removes an imaginary hat with a flourish as he holds out a hand to her in the monochrome moonlight, a moment so strange and so beautiful that Ariadne thinks it belongs in a dream.



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