communi_kate: (Default)
 So I've been getting into [livejournal.com profile] comment_fic  on livejournal, because I have major time management problems at present  and fic snippets are working well for me (despite a writing devolution from novel-length fan fiction to novellas, to short stories, drabbles and three sentence fics...) Maybe soon I'll be writing fan haikus, but for now...on with the fic!

Title: Cherry Blossom  
Fandom: Bones
Theme: quotations
Prompt: any, any, quote:I want to do with you what spring does to the cherry trees.

"I want to do with you what spring does to the cherry trees," Booth murmured.

Brennan looked puzzled. "You want me to flower, attracting bees and other beneficial insects, allowing them to pollinate the flowers, encouraging the development of fruit?"

Booth sighed. "Sometimes it is possible to be too literal, you know."
 

Title: The Way
Fandom: Rise of the Guardians
Theme: weather
Prompt: Jack, walking barefoot in the snow.

Jack's feet never get cold, no matter how far he walks in the snow. He's walked as far north as Alaska, spinning snowflakes in the air and frosting patterns on the pipeline when it crosses the tundra. It's always winter where he goes, and although his powers flake out somewhere south of Georgia in the east, he can follow the spine of the Rockies all the way down to New Mexico in January. His frosts add flavour to maple syrup festivals in spring and trace scary silhouettes upon windows on All Hallows Eve. 

He never gets hungry, and he never gets old.

And no matter how far he walks, he never makes it home.
 

Title: The Ultimate Rush
Fandom: 
Premium Rush
Theme: transportation
Prompt: any, any, it's not the end of the journey that matters, it's how you get there.

Wilee looks back over his shoulder at the silver Mazda chasing him, and sees something switch off in the driver's eyes.  It's the moment when the payoff if the driver succeeds becomes greater than the risk that he will seriously injure or maybe even kill Wilee in his attempt to steal the letter, and both of them know it.

He's had people nearly kill him before, but none of them have been actually trying. The fear does not surprise him. The exhilaration does. It's the ultimate in adrenaline rushes.

He thinks of Vanessa, only a little as his mind is already on his route, and then even that thought is lost in the sheer joy of speed.

Maybe the driver will catch him. Maybe he won't. If Wilee were a gambling man (and more importantly, f he actually had any money) he would be betting on the latter. It's not the outcome that matters. It's how you get there, and how fast.

Wilee grins as his calf muscles begin to burn and wonders if he is, ever so slightly, as insane as they say.


Title: Loot
Fandom:
Assassin's Creed 3
Theme: 500 words
Prompt: any, any, making the best of a bad situation.

The dead soldier's blood stained his scarlet coat wine-red. His eyes and mouth were open. Sergeant Tom Wilkinson of the Continental Army looked away and shuddered as a fly landed upon one glazed eyeball. The sounds of the battle faded behind them, leaving the flies and the corpses behind like jetsam upon the conflict's shore.

"Turn him over," he said.

Taylor shoved the Englishman's body with the toe of his boot.  The redcoat slumped onto his face. Wilkinson crushed the fly neatly between his fingers.

"You get his boots," he told Taylor. "I'll check for jewellery."

He knelt to take the dead man's hand, smiling as he noticed a gold wedding ring. The sinews of the corpse's fingers gave way easily beneath his knife.

"Get away from the body," someone snapped.

Wilkinson glanced up, still sawing. A quartet of British soldiers levelled their rifles at his head. He stopped.

"Now then," he said carefully, "-we don't want trouble." He looked over at Taylor. "Drop the bloody boots, lad." 

"Scavengers!" one of the soldiers said contemptuously.

"No need for that," Wilkinson said easily. "We're only trying to get by." He held up his hands and glanced hopelessly at his rifle, which he had propped some distance away against a rock in order to leave both hands free. "You going to shoot us, or what?"

"Nope," The lead soldier sucked his teeth. "We'll take you prisoner."

Wilkinson had heard tales of the English prison hulks. He tensed, preparing to rush them, and saw an arrow sprout from the redcoat's throat. The soldier choked, hand reaching up to his white cravat, and then he dropped to his knees, collapsed, twitched and was still.

The second soldier raised his gun. Wilkinson swallowed.

And then an Indian materialised from a clump of beech trees and stabbed the soldier in the back. The third redcoat jabbed at the Indian with his bayonet, but the native swayed away from the blow and buried his axe in the soldier's ribs with a sound like a lumberjack felling a tree. He dragged the weapon out and chopped it into the last soldier's skull, dispatching the man as neatly as a steer. It all took less time than a man would take to load a musket.

The Indian looked up. "The main command?"

Wilkinson pointed. "That way," he said.

"My thanks," said the Indian. He stepped into the bushes, then turned back. "You should not dishonour yourself looting corpses. One day it may be your body that is rifled."

"What do I care?" said Wilkinson. "I'll be dead."

The Indian stared at him, that grim hatchet face unreadable. "Never mind," he said at last, and set off into the bush.

"I didn't realize natives were involved," Taylor said.

Wilkinson picked up his knife. "Some are. I've heard that fellow has a grudge against the British. For whatever reason, I'm glad he's on our side."

Taylor looked doubtful.

"Cheer up," said Wilkinson. "Things could be worse. He could be on theirs."


Title: Drowning
Fandom: Assassin's Creed
Theme: 500 words
Prompt: Altair +/ anyone, hydrophobia.

"I'm not afraid of water," said Altaïr.

Malik rolled his eyes. "Of course not."

The short expanse of water stretched in front of them, sunlight rippling from its surface. Five or six low pilings studded the surface.

"If you're afraid of water, we can take another road."

Altaïr's mouth was a flat angry line under his hood. "I'm not afraid."

Malik gestured at the water, "Then go first."

Altaïr glared at him. His usual grace escaped him as he stepped to the edge of the jetty and peered warily at the first paling. "It's slippery. There are better ways."

Altaïr gazed at the water, shaking his head, and Malik shoved him. He didn't mean to push so hard, but the planks were slippery. Altaïr's boots slid out from under him and he toppled into the water. He didn't struggle or splash. He just sank. 

Malik waited a few moments. When Altaïr did not reappear he cursed and began to strip off his weapons. He pulled off his boots, robe and sash before he dived into the water.

The harbour was blood-warm, and murky. It was deep enough to drown in. The pilings stretched down past Malik like tall trees to bury their roots in harbour mud.

There was no sign of Altaïr.

Malik cursed and dived deeper. He saw a pale blur to his right and swam towards it. Altaïr's robes billowed around him. Malik saw a gleam of steel and realised the idiot had kept all of his weapons. He did not waste time trying to cut them free. He grabbed hold of Altaïr's wrist and tried to pull him to the surface.

It didn't quite work like that. Altaïr's knee caught Malik in the stomach, and his breath escaped in a cloud of silver bubbles. He pushed Altaïr away. Altaïr grabbed for his hands. Malik snatched his arms back and backpedalled, treading water as he seriously considered letting Altaïr sink.

He reached for Altaïr's hood, hoping to tow him to the surface but the waterlogged cloth slid through his fingers before they had travelled more than an arms' breadth. Altaïr's struggles grew weaker. In desperation, Malik slipped behind Altaïr and grabbed him by the throat. He'd either save Altaïr or strangle him. At that moment, he didn't care which.

 To his surprise, it worked well. Altaïr couldn't reach Malik, and Malik had one arm free to swim. The shining surface of the water came closer and closer. Malik's arms burned.

He struggled to keep Altaïr's head above water until he finally managed to get one arm onto the jetty.

They coughed their guts up together in the baking sun before Malik said. "I didn't know."

"You did. You almost drowned me."

"So did you." Malik retorted. "You should have taken off your sword."

"I'd rather die."

"You almost did." Malik snapped. "Why didn't you say you couldn't swim?"

"You asked if I was afraid of water," Altaïr coughed. "I said no."

Malik sighed. "You're an idiot," he said.

 


communi_kate: (Default)
Title: Heirs of All Eternity
Fandom: Dragon Age Origins
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Mild smut, bad language, and lots of innuendo.
Ratings: A heavy PG13.
Summary: Alistair goes on a quest to slay a legendary dragon. Zevran is on a quest to get into Alistair's pants.
Written for diabla616 for the 2013 Not Prime Time Challenge and the prompt: 'Alistair and Zev are complete opposites as far as experience goes too, and they're both at extreme ends of the scale. I'd love to see a fic which deals with the uneven dynamic this could cause in a relationship, even if they aren't paired together'

"Sharpening my own blade is never the same..."

Link to the fic on AO3.

communi_kate: (Default)
Waiting to post a couple of longer fics; this leads to ficbits!.

The Assassin's Guild (AC/Pratchett crossover)

I don't know why there isn't more Pratchett/AC fic, but there should be. Set during Jingo.

In a mountain fortress far from Al-Khali, two men bent over a map, and argued.

Each was noteworthy in his own way. Altair ibn La'Ahad, Grand Master of the Klatchian Assassin's guild; a man so talented that he wore robes white as snow yet had more kills to his name than any other Assassin in living history, frowned as he surveyed the map. Malik Al-Sayf, the man whose job was to stop Altaïr from doing something so unbelievably stupid again without thinking about it first, shook his head.

"If we are to stop this," he said, pointing to the map with his single hand, "we must be fast and merciless. Let me take ten men to Gebra to kill this Sir Samuel Vimes, and we'll finish this war before it starts-"

The Grand Master shook his head. "No."

"Why not?"

"There's no point."

"There are many points," snarled Malik, "and they are all pointing straight at the heart of this empire! Why not?"

"Because I have seen what will be in the orb," Altaïr said, "and that is not what happens."

"Not what happens? Then how will this end? Next thing you will be telling me that the island will sink beneath the sea!"

"Well," said Altair, "Stranger things have happened."

"No," Malik said. "They haven't."

 

So Take Your Fast Car (and keep on driving) (Fast and the Furious Six)

Because I like cars. And sure, Diesel's getting a little old to pull off the skin tight t-shirt look but FF6 is just...fun. Insert obligatory joke about eleven-speed gearboxes and never-ending runways here.

Domenic Toretto is just a guy who likes to drive fast cars.

So when he stands alone in the hold of an old Russian cargo plane that can't take off because it's got three muscle cars anchored to its fuselage and watches the tarmac race by through the open hatch that just swallowed the English super-villain's flailing body, he wonders how he got into this situation again.

 The plane, he realises, appears to be on fire.

But his Charger is on the ramp, hood pointed firmly towards the plane's nose cone.

The keys are in the ignition.

And Dom Toretto has always liked fast cars.

 

Provenance (AC)

So I was playing AC3, and got pissed off by Haytham's 'Men like you have no need for books' comment in the opening chapters. Books are for everyone.

"Men like you have no need for books," says the sayyid, and holds out his hand.

Malik curses his bad luck. The sayyid would never have noticed him if Malik hadn't stumbled and dropped the book directly under his nose. Now the book's fine leather cover is stained and Malik is in a situation he would far rather have avoided.

The sayyid won't catch Malik if he decides to run, but he will have to leave the book behind to have any chance at climbing. He could unseam the man with a stroke, but he will need his arm free.

"Let's have it," the sayyid says sharply.

Malik realises that his hesitation is ruining his cover. A true shopkeeper would hand over the text; trading a small loss now for the hope of greater profit later.

But Malik is not a shopkeeper, no matter how much he pretends.

"Plague," he says.

The sayyid takes a step back, his hand still extended. "Pardon?"

"The book. It carries plague. From a plague house. You know that the disease can be passed upon skins?"

The sayyid gazes at the book's fine tooled leather binding, snorts and turns away, flicking the memory of Malik off like dust from his shoe. Malik smiles, tucks the book beneath his arm, and walks on.

He has always been good at hiding in plain sight.

 

Discoveries (AC3)

Ziio, why?

"I expected more," he says.

Ziio wishes that Haytham had found whatever it was that he sought in the cave. She tells him the story of Iottsitison to console him, and then she slips her small hand into his larger one and wonders how their bodies will fit together.

Haytham gazes at her with an expression that looks like love but isn't, in the same way that the paintings on the cave wall look like people but do not breathe or move or speak. There is darkness within Haytham, but Ziio has a darkness all of her own, and she knows herself a match for him.

They make a new bargain, and do together what men and women do. 

communi_kate: (Default)
Heh.
Found this
'Ask Malik,'
a tumblr comic in which Malik answers questions. Snarky, hilarious and notable because both Malik and Altair look like Middle Eastern men.

and this :
'ad novitatem',, the tumblr of fanfic author (and, I think author of the excellent webcomic 'the less than epic adventures of tj and amal' tanyart (second link is to tanyart's fics on AO3) which is amazingly geeky.

UPDATE: Tanyart and 'TJ and Amal' author bigbigtruck are in fact two different people, so my mistake. However both 'ad novitatem' and 'tj and amal' are well worth checking out

communi_kate: (Default)
 The twenty-one opening lines meme's been round for  a while. Because I'm having trouble writing fic I'm happy with at present, I decided to give it a go. Opening lines are rarely my favourite lines of any story, and writing them all down in a bunch makes me think I really should pay them more attention. This was a real pain in the arse because I don't have all of my fics archived anywhere in particular (most but not all is on my lj, the clean stuff is on ff.net, the more recent stuff on AO3).God, I hate first lines. 

1: The men in white picked their way up the gully (After This Age)

2 : Despite the rumours, the streets of Erebor had not been paved with gold. (The Smith of Arden, or How Thorin Oakenshield Used The Horseman's Word to Shoe The Lord's Black Stallion)

3: Anders stepped back and surveyed his work with pride. (A Magician And A Gentle Man)

4: Heroes get other people killed. (Resurgam)

5: The first thing Clint Barton thinks when they send him to Tibet is that they shouldn't have chosen a white guy. (Samsara)

6: Natasha visits Barton's room after the briefing even though she knows she shouldn't. (Debriefing)

7: The Normandy cut through deep space like a knife, heading for the Omega-4 Relay. (Stardust)

8: Malik heard a sharp whine from beyond the crumbled wall, quickly cut off. (A Brotherhood of Wolves)

9: It never snowed in Jerusalem. (A Song of Ascents)

10: It was always silent in deep space. (The Company of Stars)

11: Jack was cleaning her guns when she heard Shepard's boots marking time on the staircase. (The Importance of Names.)

12: "Have you got all of your defences junctioned?" (The Malboro Man)

13: Lena Romano died choking on the bed where she earned her living. (Lady Justice)

14: It was so late at night that it was early in the morning. (Strange New Worlds)

15: "Leonardo?" Ezio called. (The Culinary Catastrophes of Leonardo da Vinci, Genius)

16: "The trouble with you girls is that you can't think for yourself." (Stone, Ground, Mountain, River)

17: "I've found Miles." The Eve of the War

 18: The plain was the colour of bones, bleached white by the midday sun. (An Assembly of Bones)

19: "Aren't you Marcus Aquila's slave?" (Rubicon)

20: I hate this place. (The Shadow of the Flame)

21: An eagle circled above over the desert dunes, looking for prey. (The Word of God and the Treasures of Wisdom)

As I'm feeling nostalgic right now, have three more first lines from the very first fics I wrote, three novel-length FF8 epics.

Seifer Almasy stared at the map. (Government Bloodhounds)

It was a beautiful day in Balamb. (South Down the Coast.)

"I'm not talking about this now." (Recovering the Satellites)

Having a bad writing time at present. The more I research and try to work to make my stories better, the more it feels like, well, work. And when I get home from work it rarely makes me want to do more. So far my writing doesn't seem to have improved, and I'm not enjoying it as much as I used to. Might try a fanfic challenge or something to reclaim the fun.
communi_kate: (Default)
The meme's ending soon (what will  do with my evenings?) so go check things out, if you haven't already!


For [personal profile] rthstewart , Temeraire/historical RPF; Dragons, RAF Never was so much owed by so many to so few

Operation Chastise

"Bombs away!" cried Gibson as George sent Wallis' bouncing bomb spinning down towards the darkly shining water with a single flick of his curved talons. Gibson peered down past the Lancaster's olive-green shoulder to follow the bomb as it fell, and in the erratic light of the flashes of anti-aviator fire that lit up George's cloud-pale belly as if it was already Christmas morning, he saw the bomb bounce once, bounce twice and sink without a trace before it even reached the dam.

"Dammit!" Gibson swore briskly through his teeth and called to George for more height, feeling the massive wings beat slowly below him as they curved away to make room for Hopwood's dragon to take her own run.

For [personal profile] degrees , Assassin's Creed, Altair/Malik, Military AU

I know precisely what is meant by 'commissariat.'

"The trouble with you, Private ibn La'Ahad," said Captain Malik al-Sayf of the Army of Assassins' Intelligence and Logistical Corps. "is that you never know the best time not to fight."

"At least I can fight," Altaïr protested, his words loud in the sudden, icy silence of the commissariat.

"We need people who can stop fighting when they're told," Malik snapped, "just as much as we need people who can start."


For 
[personal profile] betony , Much Ado About Nothing, Hero & Don John & his henchmen, "I am quiet and gentle and shy, my lords; but in no way am I merciful."

Merciful Grace

"Mercy?" Don John suggested to his assailant as Dogberry and Verges dropped their swords and slouched away into the shadows.

The figure that Don John had mistaken for Claudio tipped up her velvet mask and smiled coldly at Don John as he recoiled from the pitiless expression in her dark and lovely eyes and the bared blade held loosely in her hand.

"Mercy, my lord?"  Hero said softly, "I am quiet, and gentle, and shy, but in no way am I merciful."


For [personal profile] degrees , Assassin's Creed, Altair/Malik, can you keep a secret?

Silence

"Can you keep a secret?"

"Yes," said Malik," but that is not the question. The question is , can you keep silent?"


For [personal profile] rthstewart , Vorkosigan series; Ivan; competency

Competency

Spoilers for 'Cetaganda'.

"You are," the ghem-lady gasped as she arched back across the cushions, panting and spent, "...more than competent, Lord Vorpatril."

Ivan gritted his teeth and cursed Lord Yenaro and his own un-co-operative anatomy to the stars before he turned to her companion.

"On Barrayar there are four stages of competency, my lady," he purred, "let me show you them."

communi_kate: (Default)
Title: After This Age (7/7)
Fandom: Assassin's Creed
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: None.
Rating: PG
Summary: Malik learns his place. Final chapter, plus author's notes.

At least my sword is faster than my tongue... )

ah jesus

Jan. 28th, 2013 09:44 pm
communi_kate: (Default)
 ...signups are opening for the [livejournal.com profile] scifibigbang challenge. They're doing a 10k MiniBang this year, which seems more doable, so I may sign up for that.  
communi_kate: (Default)
Title: After This Age (6/7)
Fandom: Assassin's Creed.
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: Mild violence.
Rating:12
Summary: Malik's first mission is not quite what he expected.

It is not a mutilation. It is a mark of honour... )
communi_kate: (Default)
Title: After This Age (5/7)
Fandom: Assassin's Creed
Spoilers: None
Warnings:None
Rating:PG
Summary: Malik accepts his first mission.


We walk in the dark, to serve the light. We are Assassins... )
communi_kate: (Default)
Title: After This Age (3/7)
Fandom: Assassin's Creed
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Violence.
Summary: Malik meets Altair.

How do you know if your tribe are brave or cowards? )
communi_kate: (Default)
Title: After This Age (2/7)
Fandom: Assassin's Creed
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Summary: The brothers reach Masyaf.

Did you think the Assassins were tales too? )
communi_kate: (Default)
Title: After This Age (1/7)
Fandom: Assassin's Creed
Rating:PG-13
Spoilers: None, but Jossed to Jerusalem and back.
Warnings: None
Summary: Malik and Kadar join the Assassins, and come of age. Prequel to the first Assassin's Creed game. Complete, but I'm posting in separate chapters.

Choose them companions, give them good names, and teach them the Creed. That's all I ask... )
communi_kate: (Default)
Title: The Smith of Arden, or, How Thorin Oakenshield Used the Horseman's Word to Shoe the Lord's Black Stallion.
Fandom: The Hobbit (movieverse)
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: None.
Summary: Thorin Oakenshield knows the Horseman's Word. See the end of the fic for notes.

Despite the rumours, the streets of Erebor had not been paved with gold... )
communi_kate: (Default)
Title: A Magician and a Gentle Man
Fandom: Dragon Age
Rating: 15
Spoilers: Pre-game, so no.
Warnings: Violence, angst
Summary: A 20,000+ word Dragon Age fic written for the 2012 annual scifibigbang ficathon. A teenage Anders escapes from the Circle and promptly finds himself in all kinds of trouble. Probably the best 25000 word Dragon Age pre-game fic you'll read all day! Link to AO3, as I';m writing this on a Whistler diner's free wifi and my laundry downstairs has just finished.

Can a magician kill a man by magic?
communi_kate: (Default)
Title: Resurgam
Fandom: The Dark Knight Rises
Rating: 12
Spoilers: Set post--movie, so yes.
Warnings: Shameless fangirling over Joseph Gordon Levitt (for those who have not seen the light, I recommend checking out [livejournal.com profile] sweetestdrain 's picspam over here) motorcycles, and the Batpod in particular.
Summary: Heroes get other people killed. John Blake becomes the Batman.

You can't do Batman on a shoestring... )
communi_kate: (Default)
THIS is the Avengers fic I meant to write! 5000 words of SHIELD shenanigans, no spoilers, no mercy. Clint/Natasha, gen.

Title: Samsara
Fandom: Avengers (movie)
Rating: 12
Spoilers: No. Can be read as pre or post-movie, depending on preference.
Warnings: Mild violence, some swearing.
Summary: Clint and Natasha take on a SHIELD mission in Tibet. Everything isn't quite as it seems.

Burning down a monastery isn't the worst thing they've ever done... )
communi_kate: (Default)
So I promised a story where Hawkeye and Black Widow flirt and fight crime. This is not it. This is a piece of porny post-movie fluff with strong hurt-comfort overtones, and it's riddled with spoilers. The awesome assassin adventures come later, once I've had time to actually beta.

Enjoy.

Title: Debriefing.
Fandom: Avengers (movie)
Rating: 15
Spoilers: Like hell.
Warnings: Smut.
Summary: SHIELD debriefs Nastasha and Clint, and then they debrief each other.

You should be telling this to SHIELD )
communi_kate: (monkey)
 So I mentioned a few days ago that I'd signed up to the [livejournal.com profile] scifibigbang challenge again. Since finishing AC3 I've started to play Dragon Age 2, and the Anders' centric fic (working title: Seven Hundred Ways to Sing the Blues) that's resulted is fast becoming The Fic That Ate My Brain.

I decided to set myself a challenge based on [livejournal.com profile] yuki_onna 's article on narrative machinery, more specifically how to create interesting and/or sympathetic characters.

The rules are simple.

1/ Take one unformed character.
2/ Give them something to want.
3/ Give them something to hide.
4/ Give them something to fear.
5/ Give them something to obsess over.
6/ Then hurt them. 

On a subconscious level I think it's something I've been doing for years as both a reader and a writer. Putting characters through hell is what makes a story interesting-certainly when I wrote my Assassins fics they were never so interesting as when they were backed into a corner. But I am slightly disturbed how easy it was to do n a conscious level. I've written 11,000 words in three days-over half the total story. I've used these words to give Anders a life outside the Tower, friends, a job, a pet.

And now it's time for the fun part. Of course, it'd be more fun if I just didn't feel so damn evil

How have you hurt characters in your stories (fanfic or original), and why did you do it?
 
communi_kate: (monkey)
So I took the plunge and I signed up to [livejournal.com profile] scifibigbang again. I've missed the last couple of years because a 20,000 word fic is one that actually requires work. The last attempt resulted in the 27,000 words of moderately-depressing teenage angst that is The Shadow of the Flame
(Dragon Age: Origins: Alistair doesn't want to be a Templar. His superiors attempt to change his mind. It doesn't end well).  I'm planning a Dragon Age fic again this time, possibly centring on Anders. So many questions to be answered, and number one has to be 'why the hell the clothes?'  

If anybody's thinking of signing up, go for it! I love longer stories and there tend to be a lot of one-shots in most fandoms. Plus the whole thing is really well-organised, and stories aren't due until June 30th. T

Profile

communi_kate: (Default)
communi_kate

January 2017

S M T W T F S
1 234567
891011121314
15161718192021
22232425262728
293031    

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Oct. 22nd, 2017 07:15 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios