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How to see ghosts or surely bring them to you
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lion, pride of baghdad, fic
Posted some more Rogue One fic on my AO3 account:

Title: Rise Like Demons
Fandom: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Canonical character deaths, explosions
Summary: The stormtroopers on Scarif think they've won. A short four-chapter fic exploring the last thirty minutes of the movie from the stormtroopers' POV.

The airwaves are alive...


2nd-Jan-2017 10:02 pm - cos the war isn't out there
lion, pride of baghdad, fic
one more for the new year: The Gilmore's anthem for Jo Cox: The War. Go listen.
It isn't out there like before...
lion, pride of baghdad, fic
I wrote this fic for a Christmas exchange and realised I never posted it. I hope you enjoy. Malik and Altair in time travel adventures-what's not to like?

Title: By The Stars Men Guide Themselves.
Fandom: Assassin's Creed
Rating: PG-13, for stabbing.
Warnings: Mild peril. Disney death(no blood).
Summary: When Altair and Malik steal an Apple of Eden from the Templars in Persepolis-they all get more than they bargained for. Travelling forwards in time, they meet their successors and try to unravel the mysteries of the Eden fragments. Standalone, but part of my Crusades series.
God sets on the earth landmarks, and by the stars men guide themselves...
monkey, ranting
A little late on my New Year post this year as we spent New Years' halfway up a mountain without cell phone signal or Internet. It was a pretty good way to see out the old year and welcome a new one in. As Jo Walton quotes, I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. I'm not at all religious (lapsed methodist) but it's true; there is salvation somewhere on those slopes.

Last year was good for us, though I set no goals. 2016 has been a dismal year politically, but another good one personally. We got married-something which I thought I'd never do-and had an amazing honeymoon. My dad survived open heart surgery, and barring a few ropey days at the beginning, has improved steadily throughout the year. The business I started last year has done well. I wrote over 45000 words (not great compared to previous years) but got paid for writing for the first time (yay!). I also found my first full-length grey hair (boo) and became a dedicated plotter rather than a pantser (which, you know, interesting). 

Goals for next year:  

Personal:

We'd like to buy a house. In the current financial market it's a pain in the arse 'cause I work for myself. So 50/50 on this one. This is a pretty big goal, so I'd add making enough money for the bank to consider us worthy of a mortgage to that.  

Writing:

Submit at least four original pieces.

Edit and submit my werewolves-and druids fic, The Sickle And The Sword, to at least one market.  

Write more words than this year! Wedding planning really shot my word count in the head between January and June. 

Other:

This year I've started tracking the 72 Japanese seasons with an app on my phone and writing new season names based on what's going on here in rural East Anglia. It'd be good to keep up with that.  So far there's been Deer Shed Antlers (Turkeys Sigh in Relief) and Grass Sprouts Beneath Snow (Ice Forms on Puddles, Causing Delays) No idea how accurate this is, as I don't speak Japanese.

Ambitious, maybe
And damn, Bowie and Cohen. 
25th-Dec-2016 11:44 am - tidings of comfort and joy
lion, pride of baghdad, fic
Okay, so I also wrote Christmas giftfic, which I shall post here! Do The Best That You Can (and know that you tried), a Star Wars Christmas-in-the-trenches sort of story. Whether you're working Christmas, or if it just feels like work, this one's for you...

Title: Do The Best That You Can (and know that you tried)
Fandom: Star Wars, Rogue One -A Star Wars Story
Rating: An easy PG
Warnings: None (makes a change)
Summary: The Rebel and Imperial troops call a brief cease fire-and realise they have more in common than they thought. A feel-good Christmas fic.

The silence wakes him...

25th-Dec-2016 11:35 am - Merry Christmas!
lion, pride of baghdad, fic
And I hope whererver you are that Chsirmas doesn't suck.
A small Christmas present. I got some wonderful fanart for my fic Tear Up That Flag!
I suck at image hosting and manipulation, so hopefully this should work. In case this doesn't work, it's a very strung-out looking Bodhi Rook
ficpic
lion, pride of baghdad, fic
So I wrote Rogue One fic! Find it here on Archive of Our Own!

Title: Tear Up That Flag
Fandom: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story
Rating: 15
Warnings: References to drug use and character death.
Summary: What makes Bodhi leave the Empire? Bodhi Rook and Galen Erso. Prequel. One-shot.

Bodhi's mother dies at midnight, taking with her his last good reason to remain...




14th-Dec-2016 09:42 pm - survival is a lonely art
lion, pride of baghdad, fic
I wrote Westworld fic!

Title: Loyalty Card at Last Chance Saloon
Fandom: Westworld
Rating: 15
Warnings: Canonical character death, references fo lobotomies and prostitution
Summary: Maeve has died many times.

She prefers to die with her eyes open...
lion, pride of baghdad, fic
More three sentence fics!

Synonym, for the prompt Guardians of the Galaxy, any, misfits

Rocket waves, though the movement threatens to overbalance the grenade launcher balancing precariously on his shoulder, “See you later, savages,”

“Ravagers,” corrects Yondu.

Rocket shrugs, “Same thing.”

 

Striptease, for the prompt Any, any, that wasn’t supposed to happen

“Come on,” Rey says, “Show us.”She doesn’t expect Poe to agree, and they’re both surprised when the pilot turns his back, shimmies out of his shirt, sheds his clothing piece by piece to a slowly whistled accompaniment, and dives into their bed wearing just a sock on his left foot.

“If you-if
either of you-tell anyone I just did that,” he says to Finn, “I’ll kill you.”

 

Harder,better.faster.stronger, for the prompt Mass Effect, Saren, hello darkness

Saren groans as Sovereign’s machines strip out his nerves, draining blood and lymph and layering his muscles with carbon nanotubes. The wires twine inside him. Sovereign, sensing his distress, injects sophorics, and Saren welcomes sleep.

 

Safety Starts At Home, for the prompt Mass Effect, Shepard (either gender)/Garrus Vakarian, scars

“What about this one?” says Shepard, stroking the turian’s scars, “Thresher maw?”

Garrus winces. “Walked into the damn bathroom cabinet.”

 

Employment, for the prompt any/any, someone accepting that having made mistakes makes them stronger because failure has taught them caution and mortality

“...all that disability discrimination bullshit.”

Malik pauses on the far side of the door, hand curling into a fist. He has long accepted his mutilation as the price of a past and painful lesson in caution, but as he hears glass shatter inside the room, he reflects that Altaïr has not shared his experience. 

 

Falsehood, for the prompt any/any, someone making excuses, which only pisses off the person they’re trying to justify themselves to..

Marîd’s explanation stuttered to a halt as Malik held up his hand. “The ability to lie effectively is not a tenet of the Creed, but it is a necessary aspect of our work. Marîd, report to Rafe for weapons practice, and next time you lie to me, make it something I’ll believe.”

 

Best Seat in the House, for the prompt Mass Effect, Shepard & Anderson last scene 

“You did good, son,” Anderson says, “you did good, I’m proud of you.” His head slumps onto his chest as his eyes fix on the horizon, smiling at the endless stars. Shepard never lives to find the drawer full of letters Anderson addressed, but did not send, and the captain never had the chance to tell Shepard where to find them.

     

 

lion, pride of baghdad, fic
 Fics written for the three sentence ficathon-thanks to [personal profile] caramelsilver for hosting!

Poetry, for the prompt Game of Thrones: Littlefinger/Sansa Stark, when he’s away he writes her every day

Petyr Baelish is no poet.

He is a clerk, and he writes like a clerk; meticulously, each sentence a mathematical process totalling to an inevitable conclusion. Dearest Sansa, he writes, ending the letter Thinking of you with great affection, because he is a clerk and a cynic, and he cannot admit love.


Suck Squeeze Bang Blow, for the prompt BSG, Kara/Lee, mechanics

They make love in the shelter of a Viper engine as wide as Lee is tall. The engine is greasy with oil when they press their hands against it, slick and curved in all the right places. Kara’s heart beats like a four-stroke in her chest as Lee slides into her, hips pistoning, and she wishes she knew love like she knows engines, a simple mechanism that she could understand.


Lift us up, o lord, that we may see further, for the prompt Firefly, Book, still flying

The crew stand together at the port and watch the ship sail into the black.  As her engines shrink to stars Mal turns to River, who has the keenest sight, and she shades her eyes, peers into the distance, and says “He’s gone.”

They are just about to turn away when she whispers, “Somewhere, he’s arrived.”


Things Could Be Worse, for the prompt Musketeers, Porthos/Flea, relationship.

“We walk in different worlds,” Porthos says gravely, but the sentence isn’t quite as convincing as it sounded in his head.

“Last time I looked, the Court of Miracles was still a part of France,” Flea tilts her head, dirty blonde hair cascading onto her shoulders. “Now if you were English, that would be a different tale.”

 

Closing Time,  for the prompt Force Awakens/Sucker Punch, that AU where Poe pays his way through flight school by moonlighting at the cabaret 

The tips are lousy tonight. Poe Dameron’s pockets are light as he crosses the street towards the transit, humming a song he’s got to have word-perfect by tomorrow. As he passes between the spotlights of the streetlamps he gazes at the bleached-out sky and remembers something he heard someone say: we are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars. 

 

Drowned Ships, for the prompt Pacific Rim, Mako & Stacker, into the deep

Strange things drown within the deep; wrecked ships, and fish with phosphorescent eyes. Mako treads carefully as silt clouds the water around their Jaeger’s feet. She sees the dark shape of Striker Eureka at her side and wonders what it would be like to never see the sun. 

Ensnared, for the prompt Secret of Kells, Aisling, I am no bird and no net ensnares me

The fibres of the net are smeared with bird-lime, and they trap her wings. Aisling shifts into a wolf and crashes through the net, tearing small holes into larger ones. Though she has no voice in this form, she thinks it will take more than that as she runs into the forest, and the huntsmen get the message.


Radiator, for the prompt Mad Max: Fury Road, any, thirst

When Max reaches the village, they’ve poisoned the well. Smears of rainbow scum float on the black water. He waits a decent amount of time before he unscrews his radiator cap and siphons out a measured handful of water, enough to keep him moving and alive.

 

How to survive spaceflight, for the prompt Star Wars, Poe & BB-8, I can always talk to you

BB-8 often wishes it could talk.

Poe Dameron can-and does-talk fluently in seven galactic languages, once for three days straight and sometimes in complete sentences.

BB-8 has so much dirt on Poe Dameron, it is unbelievable.

 

Do you want to hear about the deal I’m making? for the prompt MCU, Loki/Jane, deal with the devil 

“This is not how it works,” protests Loki.

Jane poises her pen over the paper, which is also a tablet of stone and a book with golden clasps and a sheet of rune-engraved ice. “Of course it is,” she says, eyes stinging from three sleepless nights, “Now let’s review the contract.”


Dustland Fairytale, for the prompt Mad Max: Fury Road, any, Wasteland songs

Furiosa does not sing. As for Max, he barely makes any sound at all. But on clear nights they climb the pillars and listen to the people’s songs flying ‘cross the wasteland like a banner; we are still here, and this is still our home. 

 

Love The Way You Lie, for the prompt The Musketeers, Athos/Milady, These days he doesn’t know if it’s love or hate that he feels

Athos rips her portrait from the frame and weeps as he glues it back. Over time, the glue weakens and the canvas doubles over, folding until the crown of Milady’s painted head touches her glossy décolletage. Athos does not mend the portrait, but he often wakes wishing that he’d saved it from the fire.

 

If all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail, for the prompt Star Wars, Ben/Poe, a shell of yourself 

“I could strip away everything you are,” Ren hisses as he drags Poe’s head back by the hair, “leave you a shell of yourself, can’t fly, can’t even walk, would you like that?”, and despite himself Poe looks past the black clothes and the mask and sees a kid younger than he is, a kid with too much power and not enough control.

“If you could,” he says, struggling to keep his voice even, “you would have done it already.”

He hears Ren growl behind the mask as his anger ignites, and knows he’s right; knows that Ren’s no torturer, that there’s no finesse there and no precision, but then Ren’s rage punches through the Force and into Poe, and Poe’s knowledge is no comfort, for he has no defences left.

 

Dirge, for the prompt Imperial Radch, Justice of Toren, the ship that would not stop singing

Justice of Toren does not balk at bringing civilisation to the masses. That is justice, after all. But secretly she wonders if the Radch-if Anander Mianaai- will only halt expansion when the whole universe sings the same sad song.   

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