Archive of Our Own ^beta

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Curious what I'm working on? What other stories I have percolating in my brain, notebooks and harddrive?

Well, this is the place to look!

Fanfictions, maybe a couple Original Ideas (eventually), they're all (mostly) here. If I've got even a little bit jotted down, I generally consider it to be happening. Which means I'll likely post a bit about it here. 

But be warned! Just because it's in here does not mean it is coming soon! It may not come at all! These are simply projects I've got started but not necessarily ones I've got on the go! Some of the stories you'll find teased in this collection my be years away from even getting worked on! Some have been years since I last puttered away at them!

This is NOT a Plot Shop! 

Every story in here is one that I am working on!

Whether or not it actually gets posted on the other hand.... 

So following are some of my Projects. Most do not yet have titles, but once they do, I'll update appropriately. Most don't have finalized summaries, or formal summaries at all! Some will have a portion of the prologue posted, or simply an scene that I had to get down before it flew out of my head to be lost to the ether. Some I have even posted Prologues or whatnot for Evil Author Day. 

Neither is anything written in stone! Names, titles, summaries and details are subject to change as I write and develop these ideas and bare-bones into fully-formed stories.

This is a chance for me to share with my lovely readers what I've got up my sleeve. It's even a chance for you all to let me know what sounds interesting! 

So go ahead! Take a peek! 

And let me know what sounds exciting!

Who knows...it might motivate me!  ;)

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An MCU Fanfiction

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Summary

Meg and Tony had never been close. Technically, he'd been her guardian when their parents were killed, but he was certainly not guardian material. So once she could go, she was gone. 

But then something happened in Afghanistan. The last thing she expected when she got Pepper's call was to end up reconnecting with her estranged big brother over the whole thing or drawn into the world of Superheros and SHIELD. Or connecting with a rather dashing CIA agent... OC/OC; 'Tony's Little Sister' story.

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Tentatively titled: The Prodigal Stark

Very temporary Synopsis...

So Meg,  the bizarro but weirdly compelling idea of an OC who is not just Meg...but Margaret Stark (though she'd go by something like Meg/Margaret Carbonell or Collins; Maria Stark's maiden name according to the MCU wiki)  wouldn't let me rest. She wants to be in my story-verse too (still trying to come up with a name for that...btw) But she wasn't quite jiving with Loki to me. But he seemed the most suitable and any other idea just didn't click or was already paired (thought about a Bruce/Meg pairing for a few minutes there...)

But then at work one day, boom. There it was. My solution...though I still sometimes I hate my brain...making things even more complicated... -_- ...Meg's getting an OC of her own. Name still tba, (Though I'm heavily leaning toward Michael (surname undecided)) since I haven't settled on it yet, but he's going to be either an MI6 or CIA agent (who looks suspiciously like Matthew Goode ;) ...go figure) who's been sent to debrief Tony after his escape from the 10 Rings. Meanwhile, Meg will have just made it 'home' thanks to Pepper reaching out to her despite not being on the friendliest of terms with dear big brother Tony. And it'll go from there on through the Iron Man films and beyond. We'll see how far. It may end up merging with Briana's story after IM3 or ending just before with Briana's story becoming the 'sequel'. 

I may also be integrating a rather intriguing alternate idea for the Mandarin's attack on Tony's house as posited by Nando v Movies  (check it out. It's actually quite compelling)  over on Youtube. So some canon divergence will be likely....moreso than Meg's existence already implies, of course. ;) 

I may also be working her into CA:tWS since my brain has decided that it finds the idea of Michael as Alexander Pierce's long-lost/newly revealed son too intriguing to pass up.... *le sigh* 

Yet. . . when I finally thought I was set on pairing Meg with an O/C, my brain decided to hop on a 'What If' express. What ifs that include Scott, Sam (which many of you can probably guess I am not impressed with, given that I'm a solid Samtasha stan), Rhodey (pretty close to a solid no there too, since I love my plans for him to be her second big bro and the two of them ganging up on Tony) and - probably the one that has the greatest chance of happening at this point - Doctor Strange. Because I just can't get over the idea of Meg's deadpan 'you think you have an ego? Have you met my brother?' XD

The thought of a past-relationship with Hope van Dyne in college has also popped into my head (mostly to facilitate a fun interaction where they realize just who each other's father is when they eventually see each other again in the 'present day' ;P) . . . and and endgame relationships with Sharon Carter has also entered itself into the running. . . .

Yeah...so long story short, apparently her pairing isn't as decided as I'd thought it was...

*le sigh*

Thoughts?

Companion Story to Haven, The Ghost and my other upcoming MCU fics. She's even - sort of - already made her debut over there! ;D

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Excerpt

"Hey." Meg turned at the distinctly British voice. Sure enough, coming up behind her was a tall, dark-haired British suit, focused curiously on her. She frowned for a moment before her memory kicked in. "Carbonell, right? You were trying to talk to us about civilian casualty stats a few months ago." He held out his hand, "Michael Ellis, MI6." She shook her head, feeling foolish for forgetting his name...even if she hadn't quite forgotten the rest of him.

"Right, of course. I'm sorry. I suppose I'm a little distracted." He smiled faintly, an eyebrow lifting for a second as he accepted her apology.

"So you were sent out here for the Stark story? I didn't think that was your territory." She raised an eyebrow of her own at him.

"My territory? I'll have you know I'm rather versatile, Mr Ellis. Besides, you could make the argument that this sort of story that falls into my realm of interest: high profile civilian captured and held by one of the more organized and better funded of the extremist factions operating out of the Middle East and the implications of such a bold move?" He chuckled.

"I suppose you have a point." She eyed him critically for a moment, a sudden thought pushing the question to the tip of her tongue. She just couldn't turn it off, sometimes.

"What's MI6 doing here anyway?" She nodded in the direction of the podium where she knew Tony would be delivering a statement. "What's the UK's Intelligence Agency's stake in an American business man's rescue by American Forces from Afghanistan? I didn't think British forces were involved?"He chuckled again, something in his expression shifting minutely. Suddenly he was all business. 

"There are details of Mr. Stark's captivity and escape that we are interested in hearing." She hummed at the answer, eyes narrowing with curiosity...and no small amount of growing concern. Her gut suddenly twisted.

Hadn't Tony already been through enough?

But she pushed it aside. Of course international agencies were going to be interested in Tony's experience. It was a potential trove of intelligence. She nearly scoffed cynically.

It was then that she noticed the British agent eying her curiously again. She met his gaze, brows rising with silent question. 

"Where's your press badge," he asked after a moment, his brow furrowing slightly. She hesitated for a moment, glancing down at the observation; it did feel rather odd not to be wearing one. But then, she wasn't here for work.

Before she could do more than open her mouth to deflect, she heard her name, causing both her and Ellis to turn. Around them, the crowd was beginning to come suddenly to life, the bored murmur of the waiting reporters and officials milling about growing to a dull roar as questions and comments began flying through the air.

"Meg!" Hearing Happy's voice immediately had something in Meg's gut easing while her chest suddenly felt tight. Not far behind her brother's driver/bodyguard was Pepper. And next to Pepper...

A breath Meg hadn't realized she'd been holding gusted out of her when she caught sight of her brother. Before she could help herself she was pushing through the crowd, meeting up with Happy halfway to her brother, grateful to her brother's companion for his help in clearing the way. It was only a moment longer before Tony caught sight of her. A flicker of something she couldn't quite decode passed across his tired features before a wide, characteristically irreverent grin curled his lips.

"The Prodigal Stark returns," he declared cheekily, sending a rush of surprised murmurs through the cluster of reported flocking around her brother. Meg scoffed, shaking her head.

Only to impulsively throw her arms around Tony. 

"I thought my brother had been killed, you idiot," she snapped back, ignoring the way her voice wavered even as he returned her embrace, clinging to her. "Of course I was going to be here when I heard you'd been rescued."

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An MCU Fanfiction

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Summary

Post 'House Party,' Tony said he was done. But it's not so easy to turn off, and that proved too much for Pepper. So what does Tony do? Falls back on his own ways: sarcasm, philandering and Iron Man. Enter one Briana Ainsley; pizza waitress and so not interested. Besides, what could she possibly offer him anyway besides forbidden pizza...and a friend? TS/OC

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OC's name subject to change, but it's fairly certain at this point in time. This has been in my head for quite a while. We'll see how long before I can get anything substantial written. However, Briana is now officially integrated into the same story-verse as The Ghost, Haven, and my Loki/OC story. She's even made her first appearance. ;) But her story itself is still in the very early stages, really; lots of scenes in my head, and a generally complete idea of where it's going. I'm pretty sure I have it worked out how she's gonna fit into AoU and CW, though, so it's most definitely promising, so far.

Not to mention, with the ongoing development of Meg's story arcs, I'm starting to debate just how much of a role Pepper's going to play in this series as a whole, so that aspect may shift or even disappear as well.....at the very least, I rather anticipate at this point that she's ultimately going to fade out as Meg and Briana's stories progress. Though admittedly I do enjoy the idea of her being a bit of a BFF to Meg and possibly even Briana eventually.

Companion Story to Haven, The Ghost and my other upcoming MCU fics.

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Excerpt

"I repeat," she said deliberately, enunciating carefully, ignoring the amused glint in his eyes when he glanced at her, "you cost me my job."

"Dime-a-dozen," he countered flippantly, hands casually in his pockets as he surveyed the room as though it's contents were mildly intriguing, periodically poking at one thing or another in bored interest. Briana's jaw nearly dropped as she stared at him incredulously.

"Dime-a--it's not quite that simple, Stark!" she blurted out, still stunned. But as he snuck another glance at her, Briana's eyes narrowed at the hint of a smirk on his face. He was teasing her! Her nose wrinkled disapprovingly. "Have you ever even had a real job? And if you say 'Iron Man,' I'm calling security," she cut him off right as he turned to her, his mouth already opening to answer her. He smiled widely, obviously enjoying himself immensely. She fought back a glimmer of her own enjoyment at the bickering.

"It really is, though," he pointed out in that irritatingly 'know-it-all' manner of his that she was beginning to realize was characteristic. She scoffed.

"Do you get paid for it?"

"No." He dismissed her objection with an absent gesture. "But that doesn't mean it isn't a job." She huffed irritably; he wasn't wrong. But then his expression turned serious.

"Please, Bri?" He sounded so sincere, so plaintive. She was astonishingly close to budging because of it. "Please?"

"Briana," she cut in automatically, not caring how annoyed she sounded...even if she didn't actually feel as annoyed as she sounded. Tony blinked, looking faintly bewildered.

"What?"

"Briana. I don't like 'Bri.'" The bewilderment faded, and a curious glint appeared in his eyes even as he pressed on.

"Okay - Briana. Please? Consider it?"

She was going to regret this, wasn't she...

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An MCU Fanfiction

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Summary

When Hanna Warren went into work at Stark Tower that day, the last thing she expected was to be part of an Alien Invasion. Neither did she expect to catch the interest of one very messed up God of Mischief who decided it would be crueler to let her live. She really didn't expect to become his source of amusement as he languished away in a cell on Asgard. And there was no way she could have ever dreamed that he would ever become one of the most important people in her life...or her of his. Loki/OC

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Tentatively titled: Verita(s)

Again, OC's name subject to change, but again, quite unlikely at this point...though I am considering Calla for some strange reason... This one's been in my head the longest (as in, since shortly after Avengers 1 premiered), and was also the only one for a time to reach back to Phase One, even if it is only the tail end. But it's also proving the hardest to get down. Like Tony's story, we'll see how it goes. Same issues, really. Basic idea mapped, etc, etc. Thor: Ragnarok complicated things for a time, but I think I have most of the major kinks ironed out. Will probably be integrated with the rest of my MCU series, but I don't know precisely how much I'm going to have to do so far as integration, yet....

Oh, and for this story, my one-shot (ultimately three-shot) A Child of Two Worlds will be considered canon. So might as well catch up on that. ;)

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Prologue Excerpt

Cora couldn't help it. She grinned, her gaze dropping back down to her glass. The pub was dim and surprisingly cozy despite the near raucous laughter coming from across the way and the chatter ringing in her ears. Not to mention the smoke from the handful of lit cigarettes throughout the establishment was beginning to make her throat sting. But it still somehow felt cozy. Intimate even.

Or maybe she'd just had a little too much to drink. She was already on her second glass of beer, not that she was a lightweight. Everything was starting to get a little bit hazy around the edges, though—in a pleasant sort of way, of course—and she knew she was a little less inhibited than she usually was.

Enough so that she was smiling back at the man who sat next to her at the bar. And flirting back. She never did that. Well, not often. She'd always been far more focused on school or work.

But she was in college! She was on a Summer Away course! Why should she not live a little? Besides, while admittedly older than her, there was just something about him that she was drawn to.

He wasn't conventionally attractive, she had to admit—he was dressed like a professor just out of a lecture from the campus around the corner, and his hairline was beginning to recede above features that were a little plain for conventional ideas of beauty—but he had a bookish sort of charm and a sweet smile that made her stomach flip just a little. Not to mention a quick tongue and a sharp sense of humor that had her grinning into her glass as she tried not to burst into raucous laughter of her own.

Next to her, he grinned, his eyes glinting with amusement of his own, as though he knew she was trying not to burst out laughing. After a moment Cora managed to get herself back under control, taking a swift mouthful of her beer before turning back to him, eying her new companion thoughtfully. Then, throwing all caution to the wind, she held out her hand.

"Cora Warren," she introduced, "summer student from New York." He nodded, grinning crookedly as he studied her thoughtfully back. He reached out and took her hand. His touch was pleasant, and his grip firm without being overbearing the way some men's handshakes tended to be. It was surprisingly intimate.

"Cora. A Latinate form of the Greek 'Kore', which was also another name for the Goddess Persephone," he said. Only to grin somewhat sheepishly as Cora tried and failed to hold back a laugh. "Sorry, it's the professor coming out," he apologized. Cora giggled. Actually giggled. But she paid it little mind. She was enjoying this man's company.

"So you're a professor, then," she said, half flirtatiously and half out of true interest. He nodded.

"History, specializing on the Ancient Norse and particularly on their mythology," he said with an amused glint in his eye. "Professor Elliot Randolph."

It was only then that Cora realized he was still holding her hand. As she looked down, he noticed too, letting go with another sheepish look. Cora was biting back another giggle, her grin threatening to grow wider still.

"So you specialize in ancient bedtime stories, then," she teased lightly. He laughed.

"More than stories, you know," he said back just as lightly, though the glint in his eye deepened, promising a secret knowledge. Cora couldn't help but be intrigued. She couldn't fight the sense that there was...more to him than met the eye. He shifted on his stool, leaning minutely closer to her. Before she even realized she was doing it, Cora was edging closer herself.

He set down his glass, catching her gaze with a faintly mischievous expression.

"Have you ever heard the Legend of the Warrior Who Stayed?"

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An MCU Fanfiction

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Summary

tbw....

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This one I've been seriously considering for a while so I might as well include it here.

It'll feature Rumlow and the alluded to romance he has with Katerina Zhirova, the Red Room Groupmate of Nadine's that sold her and Nina out at the Manipulations of Madame B and eventually found herself working for HYDRA and Strucker. 

Which mean yes, it'll be part of the same series as  The Ghost, Haven, and the rest.

It won't be a long fic, but like just a (long) one-shot or possibly even a Mini-fic. We'll see. I have no active plans for it just now, but it's one that I actually really want to do. 

I suppose I'll have to come up for a codename for Katerina too, then....

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Excerpt

Nothing yet, lovelies. 

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An MCU Fanfiction

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Summary

tbw....

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Speaking of one-shots....I have a few tentative ideas planned out for companion one-shots to go with my main MCU series. Wee little complementary stories that don't fit within the main ones but exist nonetheless. And which little stories am I thinking of? Well, so far:

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One will take place during Ant-Man and The Wasp, where Scott marvels over how he knows The 'real' Ghost, utterly confusing everyone; Hope, Hank, Dr. Foster, and Ava.

Tentative Title: The Imposter

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Another will take place after Bucky fell from the Train in CA:tFA, when Peggy finds Steve in the bombed-out pub, leading to an offer of tea, comfort and probably a little more; will most likely be M-rated.... ;D

Tentative Title:  The Captain and The Agent

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There may even be a Samtasha one!

And more may come. The Rumlow/OC shot may end up in here, too. We'll see. It all depends on whether or not it becomes a multi-chapter mini or stays a one-shot. 

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Excerpt

Nothing concrete, yet. 

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An MCU Fanfiction

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Summary

Before Betty, there was Irina. A scientist like Bruce, they grew close while she was in the States for college. But she had to go home to Russia, and it ended. But then the accident happened, and Bruce was suddenly on the run, and he ran to her for help. But he couldn't stay, and it ended before it could truly start again. But when someone decides to look into his past for leverage? It means trouble for Irina. Bruce/OC

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We'll see if this one makes it off the ground. I actually have a basic plot, but little in the way of details. Lots of decisions yet to make, but the basics are there. The biggest remaining question remaining...to integrate with my other stories or not...I weirdly kind of like Natasha/Bruce, you know...recently I've been growing rather fond of Natasha/Sam. No idea why. It just sort of happened. So Natasha/Bruce may end up being a failed attempt, paving the way for my Bruce/Irina story to possibly, maybe work. Who knows. We'll see. 

Or.....thanks to Thor:Ragnarok...this might just be off on its own, disregarding the events of T:R unless I can reconcile Bruce/Hulk's trip to Sakaar with my plan for him to go to Russia after Sokovia....

(Maybe, though it seems unlikely at this point in time) a Companion Story to Haven, The Ghost and my other upcoming MCU fics.

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Excerpt

Irina.

Bruce froze. Irina.

A wealth of memories were tied to that name. 

She'd been a long time ago. Before Betty, or rather, when he and Betty had just been good friends. Before anything had developed between him and Betty.

It had been a long time since he'd heard that name. And boy, didn't it take him back. To days before Hulk, before Ross, to Harvard. Back before things were complicated. 

To days of all-nighters and study-sessions. To clinical experiments the three of them had signed up for to make some extra cash. To days of bad food and little sleep as money ran low and essays and papers piled up. To long days of research in Labs and Libraries and Hospitals. 

To last minute cramming before exams to the day spent in bed when those exams were mercifully over and they were allowed to breathe again for however short a time. To brief moments of intimacy between endless classes and tutorials and practicals. 

To the odd, stolen moments of fooling around in the furthest, dustiest corners of the stacks.

To that first, awkward encounter that had still managed to make one hell of a memory.

Wow...he physically shook his head to clear away that batch of memories. That had gotten inappropriate real quick.

It had only ended because she'd had to go back to Russia.

The next time he'd seen her? The last time? He'd been running from Ross.

And he'd no longer had a real future.

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An MCU Fanfiction

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Summary

Don't have one yet. Sorry. I kind of need a wider story first ;) lol!

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This one just hit me...I have no idea what will come of it or if it will even be a part of my Ladies of Marvel Series (or if it'll even get written at all...) but the gist so far is a team of scientists, including the main OC, Corie (short for Cordelia, I'm thinking), stumble across one of the 'Portals' Loki liked using to bounce around the Galaxy without the Bifrost and find themselves in Asgard. That's it. That's all I've got so far. Make of it what you will...I know I can't make much of it yet... :P

And now with Thor: Ragnarok making a spectacular impact on the development of the MCU....I honestly have no idea where this one will fit, just now. I'll probably have to start writing it to decide on that. See where the story takes me, you know? But part of me is hinting 'pair her with Thor'  even though another part of me is like 'no!' or 'how about Fandral?'. ..and that same part is also starting to hint that it might be interesting to make her the daughter of a defected valkyrie..... *facepalm* 

We'll see. . . 

Yeah. . . her mom's totally going to be a defected valkyrie - probably named Sigrun, with her 'Earth name' still tbd - a valkyrie who, after the Snap, makes her way to New Asgard and finds herself reuniting with an old, long believed dead 'friend'.... *wink*wink*nudge*nudge* Three guesses who..... *cough*Valkyrie*cough* 

Oh, and the pairing is pretty much definitely going to be Thor....and it's looking good to being integrated into my main MCU series. ;)

So yes, it will be a Companion Story to Haven, The Ghost and my other upcoming MCU fics.

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"But until our prince returns to take the throne, Odin Allfather - "

"Oh my God!" All eyes turned to Corie as the words burst from her mouth. Her own eyes wide as the pieces clicked into place, she was on her feet in an instant. Scrambling from her seat she wove through the clusters of people until she found the main gathering of her research team. The old man looked affronted where he stood near the centre of the gathering. But more of his people simply looked confused and curious, just as her own companions did.

"Corie, what are you - " Aiden started, but she cut him off with an anxious wave of her hands, gulping down air so she could speak.

"Odin," she blurted again, looking expectantly around the circle of her teammates. Only frowns and blank stares looked back at her. A frustrated sound escaped as she grasped for a different tack, one she knew they'd understand.

"I think I know where we are." A couple more of the research team stood, their faces switching from confusion to interest, though understanding was still missing. "Odin," she started again, her voice starting to reach almost shrill levels in her anxious frustration. "No?! Don't any of you know any Norse Mythology?" She groaned at the shaking heads and even sheepish expressions. Really? did none of them pay attention to the news after aliens appeared in New York? "Odin? King of the Norse Gods? Father of Thor?!"

 That was it. She beamed as understanding began to light on some of her colleague's faces. Of course they'd know that name. They didn't live that far under rocks...not all of them, at least. A few faces still looked confused. Their hosts still looked utterly baffled at what was going on, still watching the exchange with fascination. Though the mention of Thor's name earned a few surprised murmurs. Corie's gaze leapt around the range of confused and understanding faces of her team. She nearly shrieked in frustration at how obtuse some of her companions were, an exasperated sound managing to make it past her lips.

"Thor," she enunciated slowly as thought she was talking to a child, her voice still raised. "Big guy. Ridiculously hot. Battle of New York!" A gasp of understanding sounded from one of her companions, but Corie was on a roll. "Part of the Avengers. Carries a big bloody hammer!" Her entire team was on their feet now, each looking to her and to each other with astonishment as what she was implying began to sink in before, one by one, they turned to gaze up at the huge walls they were camped below. Corie's voice finally began to calm, though her heart was still hammering from fear and exhilaration. The team turned back to her as she spoke again.

"Guys, we're in Asgard."

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An MCU Fanfiction

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Summary

Still working on it....obviously ;P lol!

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Well, you've all heard me talk about it enough....and I only just realized I don't actually have an entry for it here, yet! The horror! Hahaha! 

As I'm sure many of you have either figured out or have heard from me, the plan for this series is that, once I finish was of my OCs' primary/introductory stories (and a couple mini-sequels, because I just love playing with them all so much) with their Avenging SOs, they're all going to get brought together into one massive, monster Avengers-esque Ensemble Fic! 

And naturally, it's going to be the fic that covers both Infinity War and Endgame

*cue dramatic music*

Oh, is it ever going to be fun. I've had parts of this planned right from the very first time I saw IW  *cough*The Opening*cough*The Snap*cough* and my OCs all started chiming in with their particular experiences as I'm watching! Talk about insistent plunny, yeah?

Again, probably a long way off, given just how much else I need to get done first, but it's coming! I promise!! I already have a whole file devoted to scenes and blurbs I just had to get down! ;)

So stay tuned!

***

Sneak Peek

"So what's the plan, Cap," Rhodes asked sedately, looking up to the rest of the team over his crossed arms. The newcomer frowned and looked up just as he was glancing to her.

"Why are you looking at me," she asked, drawing everyone else's attention to her as well. "I just got here."

"Um, what?" Nina piped up tentatively, looking between Carol and Steve in confusion. Steve straightened minutely, looking to Carol with a considering frown of his own. Carol blinked, the trace of a grin tugging at her mouth. She glanced around the perplexed faces before nodding briefly toward Rhodes.

"He asked 'what's the plan, Cap,'" she said with the air of someone explaining a simple concept to those who should know better before gesturing pointedly to herself, "Captain."

Natasha's brow rose before jerking a nod toward Steve with an expression reminiscent of her familiar, dryly amused smirk. "So's he."

Carol blinked, the only indication of her surprise.

"Captain America," Nina clarified with a small ghost of the mischievous grin she inherited from her father. Steve shot her a vaguely admonishing glance but Nina shrugged it off. Carol looked from them to Steve, her eyes narrowing in consideration.

"Really? I thought he was an old comic book character from one of the World Wars. You based on him, then?" Steve's lips thinned before he sighed wearily, hand rising to massage the bridge of his nose.

"More like the other way around," he admitted with long-suffering patience. Carol's brows rose, her surprise far more obvious this time. But after a moment she hummed, head tilting in a faint and even somewhat impressed nod of acceptance.

"I'll buy it," she admitted. Only to shoot him an appraising look complete with a wry smirk. "Looking good, old man."

"Thanks," Steve said dryly.

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An MCU Fanfiction

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Summary

Not a chance, because spoilers, yeah? ;P 

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Is anyone surprised at this point? I know I'm not...or at least, I shouldn't be. *le sigh* ;P

I'm sure those you you lovely readers who've read The Ghost must've figured something like this would likely be coming. 

Yup! Another Mini-Sequel for Nina!! 

Still in planning, but some scenes are already starting to materialize in my over-plunnified brain. 

Still working on whether or not she's going to be a late addition (ie, after Wanda's IDed) or part of the initial team right along with the ever awesome Darcy. 

Not to mention, she very quickly wiggled her way into The Falcon and the Winter Soldier as I was watching that. . . so yeah. That too. Whether it'll be two separate stories or one, I don't know yet. 

And obviously, the same Story-verse as 'The Ghost' and 'Haven' and so on.

So stay tuned!

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Sneak Peek

(this peek - from tFatWS, clearly ;P - is very much still under construction and aspects of it may not even make it into the final version, but I really wanted to share this little snippet)

“Dad!” Bucky flinched, pointedly ignoring the sharp look Dr. Raynor fixed him with when he reacted. Forcing what he hoped was a reassuring grin to his face, he turned, hands raising in what was likely a futile attempt to forestall what he knew was coming.

“Nina—" If her swift approach hadn’t been enough to make him falter, the worry and poorly restrained panic on her face certainly would have.

“What happened?” she blurted, the grip she took on his jacket sleeves further betraying her fear. “Are you okay? Why did they arrest you?” He nodded before she could even finish her questions, hands automatically rising to her shoulders, squeezing gently. She exhaled shakily, some of the tension bleeding from her frame. 

“I’m fine, Sunshine. It was a misunderstanding.” He frowned then. “What are you doing here? How…” Her chin lifted even as a faint blush tinted her cheeks.

“I…uh, keep an eye out…just in case. The warrant for you pinged and, well, as soon as you were arrested I had to come.”

“Wait, you’re monitoring me?”

“After the way they tried to railroad you for Vienna?” Nina countered, incredulous. “Of course I am.”

“You haven’t been completely honest, James. A daughter?” Dr. Raynor interrupted then. Next to him, Nina made a small, aggravated sound.

“Dad…” Her tone was admonishing, but he didn’t fail to notice the utter lack of surprise. If anything, she sounded resigned. He struggled not to flinch at the flicker of hurt in her eyes, no matter that she hid it quickly. He sighed heavily, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Nina, I…it’s habit. I’m not used to…trust still doesn’t come easy for me. I’m sorry, Sunshine.” She studied him as comprehension lit in her expressive eyes. He bit back another sigh: of course she knew what held him back without him needing to say it aloud. She’d already gone through it all with her mother, after all. After a long moment she nodded, lip quirking in a small, forgiving grin. It didn’t wholly assuage the crush of guilt that had pushed back to the forefront to settle heavily in his chest, but the feeling eased.

Only for her expression to sharpen and her brow to quirk in a shrewd expression eerily reminiscent of the one her mother often wore.

“And I suppose you haven’t told her about your relationship with Iris, either?” There was no hiding his flinch at that.

“No, he hasn’t,” Dr. Raynor confirmed dryly. Bucky shot Nina an admonishing look of his own.

“Thanks, Nina.” Her grin was one part angelic, two parts sly; apparently she was just as immune to his reproachful tone as Steve and Nadine.

“You’re welcome.”

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An MCU Fanfiction

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Summary

When T'Chaka killed his own brother to protect Wakanda, he left N'Jobu's son Erik behind to grow into a man who would one day throw Wakanda into chaos. But what if he hadn't? What if T'Chaka had brought young Erik home with him to be raised alongside his own children? How would all their lives have changed? 

***

This is another one that's been niggling away at my brain for a while....

Yeah, I usually don't do this sort of story, but the idea just won't leave me alone. So I might very well add it here. Especially since my brain is now toying with an OC for Erik to add in there....because of course I am. :P

Will not be connected with my main MCU series, but rather a stand-alone story.

Warning: It is very low on the list, so it'll likely be a while if I ever get to it.

***

Excerpt

Nothing as of yet, my lovelies. 

Chapter Text

An MCU Fanfiction

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Summary

In an AU where Laura Barton isn't Clint Barton's wife, but his sister looking after his kids after his wife's death, meet the Lena (last name tbd), the agent that has him learning to love again.

***

This is another one that hit me like a bag of rocks....like an arrow? We're not going there... most likely pre-Avengers, at the start, at the very least. Probably even starting during Thor. Lena's going to be a S.H.I.E.L.D. Analyst and linguist. Barton is Barton and wonderful. Nat's going to be, who else, meddling and Nat.  

I'm starting to think I need a story idea intervention, lovelies... 

Obviously, since I've already established Laura as Clint's wife in my main MCU series, this one will be a separate entity, off all on its own. 

Though let me tell you, is it ever tempting. . . *le sigh*

***

Excerpt

He could feel Nat staring at him. It was unnerving. The woman really didn't know how powerful that thing was...or maybe she did. She probably did. What was he thinking...It was Nat. Or course she did.

"You like her," Natasha said, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully at him. Clint fought not to squirm.

"'Course I do. She's a good agent. Smart. Good in a tight spot. Easy to work with."

"Easy to look at," Nat tacked on knowingly, her tone then turning distinctly scolding, "stop being deliberately obtuse. I mean like her." Clint hazarded a look to the redheaded spy. Her eyes were glinting with interest and curiosity and her lips were curled in a smug smirk. "You've got it bad..." she said, her smirk widening. Clint huffed.

And deliberately ignored the way his chest grew tight at the thought.

...not to mention the way other things were tempted to follow suit.

"You know it's okay to put yourself out there again, right?" It was said far more gently than her needling of a moment before. Clint looked to his best friend again. Natasha was watching him closely, sympathy and conviction clear on her face.

"I know," he said softly. And he did. He was ready to let it happen again. It was just... "It's not as easy at it was before. There's a lot more coming along with me than just the job."

Understanding joined the sympathy on Natasha's face. 

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An MCU Fanfiction

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Summary

tbw....

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Tentative Titles: The Soldier' Ghost or Winter's Ghost

Okay, so I honestly can't believe I am even considering this, but I am. I'm working diligently away on new chapters for The Ghost and a throwaway line becomes a line of thought (both within and outside of the story) and that line of thought becomes a pervasive and tenacious little plunny that just won't let me be.

What is this plunny you might ask?

An AU for The Ghost starting when Nadine ran.....where Bucky runs with her.

Yup! You read that right. A Nadya/Bucky story where she reacts differently to him catching her the night that she ran from the Red Room that leads to him running with her. That simple, that complicated and that bloody tantalizing. 

Beginning will likely be the same/reposts of  the 1996/7 chapters of The Ghost (Part I, Chapters 2, 4, 6, 10, 12, 14 and 16) as the events in them will essentially be exactly the same as this new story given that the two stories will diverge during the events of Part I: Chapter 16. I might even just repost them as the first several chapters of this new story rather than outright writing new ones...maybe expand a bit. I don't know. I haven't gotten that far yet...

I must be insane....as if I don't have enough on my plate.... T.T  Yet, dammit, I can't resist!! 

AU to The Ghost so not exactly in the same series as my other MCU fics....

***

Prologue

New York City, USA

Spring 2012

To say each and every member of the newly assembled Avengers was exhausted was probably the sorest understatement of the year. Easily. Even Tony had fallen silent. Only Thor seemed to have anything left, and he was putting that energy toward enthusiastically enjoying the shawarma Tony had recommended. If Clint had much of anything left himself, he might have been sincerely tempted to laugh at the sight they must have made.

Earth's supposed 'Mightiest Heroes', crammed into a nearly trashed, hole-in-the-wall—yet undeniably delicious—shawarma restaurant; their Captain nearly falling asleep with his cheek propped on his fist; their archer lounged back and taking up half of their assassin's chair in a makeshift footstool; their scientist/Hulk mechanically working on his fries, missing his mouth every other bite or so; their billionaire/genius staring into space as he absently wiped sauce from his fingers; and their Asgardian taking full advantage of the delicious meal, having eagerly polished off his first helping and was well on his way toward needing a third.

But Clint was just as exhausted as his newly minted teammates. Truthfully, it was all he could do to keep his eyes open. And he had two young kids at home that had given him lots of practice at pushing past levels of exhaustion even his career hadn't managed to put him to. But staving off an alien invasion by the skin of their teeth as something else altogether.

Really, Clint couldn't even process that yet.

He was too tired. He just wanted to go home, hug his kids, kiss his wife and fall into bed for a month.

Then he could figure out how he felt about just what had happened today.

And how close they'd all come to, well, losing.

But for now, it was enough just to sit in a peaceful, exhausted, companionable silence with his new team. Just slowly working their way through the mountain of shawarma and fries Tony had ordered them with the last dregs of his characteristic irreverence.

Only for the silence to snap at the insistent and impossibly loud buzz of a ringing phone.

At the head of the table, Rogers started so spectacularly he knocked his—thankfully—empty basket off the table while at the other end Banner jerked, suddenly wide awake and blinking blearily as he remembered where he was. Thor was the only one, really, who didn't jump in some way, merely looking mildly up from his meal, chewing away at his mouthful as he guilelessly looked around at each of his companions with mild curiosity.

Automatically preparing to stand, Clint's hand reached for the phone tucked away on his belt, relief at the idea of hearing Laura's voice flooding through him. Only for the feeling to fade and a frown to take over as his fingers brushed over the still, silent cell.

He looked up, taking in Natasha's wide, startled eyes as she realized it was her phone ringing. His frown deepened. Especially as her eyes widened further with understanding before she carefully schooled her expression.

With each and every one of her teammates' eyes fixed curiously on her, she answered.

And paled.

"Nadi, what—" she murmured hurriedly, meeting Clint's eye from force of habit alone, unconsciously searching for reassurance, "yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. I'm okay. A little bumped and bruised, but—" Clint straightened as she was evidently cut off, his best friend shifting as though about to stand as her already pale features paled further still, her mask snapping abruptly into place. But not before mix of confusion, surprise and concern flashed in Natasha's green eyes. But as a trace of anticipation flickered into view before being carefully hidden away, suspicion was suddenly growing in the back of Clint's mind.

Especially as he caught the last thing Natasha's mystery caller said before hanging up.

"We're on the next flight out."

Chapter Text

An MCU Fanfiction

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Summary

tbw....

***

Honestly, I'm not 100% sure where the idea for this one came from. I think I saw or heard a prompt somewhere? Maybe on one of the Marvel/MCU fanfic FB groups I'm in? I don't know. But the idea took hold and here we are.

No summary yet as it's a very, very rough idea...but I really kind of want to write it, so here we are. 

Here we go: Our MC - Raquel (or Veronica, I'm still debating) 'Ricki' Robins, codename 'Riot' - will have been kidnapped by HYDRA and held prisoner - reasons why yet to be finalized pending the more concrete development of the overall plot, though  I'm even considering a premonitory ability/Enhancement?  We'll see on that score  - next to or potentially even with Bucky during his time as The Winter Soldier. And naturally, something will develop. I have a couple ideas for how the story goes from there - mostly involving her ultimately becoming a Winter Soldier-esque HYDRA agent (complete with wiped memories and possibly trigger words of her own) on Rumlow's STRIKE Team who defects (probably thanks in part to Nat...because Nat ;P) and ultimately helps track down and help Bucky, getting help for herself in the process - but I'm still playing with it. I'll also be playing with the idea of a slightly more autonomous and 'aware' Winter Soldier than I characterized him in my Main MCU series, where he's just as brainwashed and memory-less, but not quite to the level of 'blank' machine that I interpreted in Haven , The Ghost and the rest.

Obviously, Pre-CA:WS, but I will likely have it extend into WS and perhaps beyond or (likely) even AU after. We'll see. A lot's up in the air, atm.

For obvious reasons, will not be in the same series as my other MCU fics....

***

Excerpt

Ricki frowned down at the man, something tickling once again at the furthest recesses of her scattered—perhaps shattered was a more accurate term—memory. Why couldn't she fight the sense that she knew this man.

And just before his steel-blue eyes slid blearily shut, his brows twitched closer together in an expression that echoed hers. 

Chapter Text

An MCU Fanfiction

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Summary

No summary yet, lovelies.

***

Here we go again...another plunny that's finally gained enough traction in my brain to warrant an entry....

Warning, this one is still *very* rough and therefore a Looooong way away, but here's what little I've got so far.

Yeah, it's going to be the 'War Girlfriend' trope..... 

OC (still working on the name) is Our Leading Man's War-time girlfriend who, after losing him and their mutual BFF, decides she has nothing left to lose and signs up for an experimental program working on developing cryogenic freezing - probably thanks to Zola who, in story, thanks to this research will use it to properly freeze our poor broken Bucky between Winter Soldier assignments.  Naturally, it works on her (or doesn't work properly? *cue dramatic music*) and she is left in cryofreeze right up until our modern MCU series of events. Cue her waking up, the ensuing drama and - of course - a reunion with her Supersoldier love and BFF.

I'm also still not certain yet if it's going to be a Bucky or Steve pairing.

Sounds fun, yeah?

***

Sneak Peek

Nothing yet, lovelies.

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A Star Wars Original Trilogy Fanfiction

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Summary

A 'What If' Lady Adyé Story: What if Vader had sent Athara to retrieve the Death Star Plans from Tatooine? How would things have changed? How would new, unexpected encounters have changed the course of her Fate? A companion story to the Lady Adyé Trilogy and another exciting part of the Series. An AU of an AU.

***

So...I was musing over my Rogue One story while I was still writing it and BOOM: what if we do a 'what if' story! *facepalm* As if I don't already have enough stories on the go...

The gist? The plan? The Idea? What if, instead of forbidding Athara to go to Tatooine to retrieve the Death Star Plans, Vader agrees with Athara and sends her to the planet's surface...well, it would change everything, of course...else, you know, it wouldn't be much of an idea, tbh...*le sigh*

Again, we'll see if this ever actually gets off the ground, but considering how much I already seem to have mapped out in my head so far...and jotted down on scraps of paper and written out in my Star Wars notebooks... 

I'd love to hear anyone's thoughts on this!! Please, someone! Comment and convince me it's a bad idea! My brain is going to explode...

...also, despite trying NOT to think on it...it even has a title...which is always a bad - good? - sign...

I present Lady Obscura: Balance of Choice (unofficially, for the moment, at least)

***

Excerpt from Chapter 1

It was all over in the space of a few moments. Athara stood quietly beside her Master as the Tantive IV was disabled and was guided into the Main Landing Bay by tractor beam. It was then that Vader abruptly turned. Athara followed silently, keeping pace behind her Master as they made their way to the ship awaiting them in the Landing Bay.

Compared to the Devastator, the Alderaanian ship was quite small, but to a single person, she was a fairly substantial vessel. By the time Vader and his apprentice made their way to the only open hatch, which had been blasted open, most of the fighting had subsided. Vader didn't hesitate striding onto the smoke-clouded corridor of the captured vessel. But he had a respirator that filtered out the smoke and fumes left over from the boarding party's firefight. Athara had to wait a moment, drawing on the Force to protect her lungs from whatever still hung in the air. Coughing at the smoke was not a dignified thing for a Sith apprentice to do.

Vader was already striding purposefully down the corridor flanked by a number of troopers by the time she cleared the lingering smoke. Stepping over the bodies of the Tantive IV's Crew and Stormtroopers alike, Athara distantly followed Vader, pausing to take reports from troopers and direct the flow of prisoners.

She finally caught up to her Master to find him holding the Tantive IV's Captain by the throat. The Alderaanian's feet hovered a foot off the ground, the man gasping for air. Judging by the change in the Dark Lord's voice when the Captain denied knowledge of the plans, Vader's patience was reaching its end. It wasn't long before Athara heard the faint crunching of the Captain's vertebrae as Vader crushed the man's neck in his grip. As Captain Antilles fell limp, Vader threw the body aside, roaring at the Stormtrooper Commander at his side.

"Tear this ship apart until you find those plans, and bring me the passengers, I want them alive!" The troopers scurried off as Vader strode angrily past the lifeless body of the Captain. His rage was tangible, but Athara managed to keep her face emotionless and stone-like as Vader came directly toward her. The anger radiated off him in waves, putting her even more on edge; pushing her closer to her own limits.

"Find the Consular, now!"

"Yes, Master." Striding off in the opposite direction, Athara took command of the remaining troopers and began organizing a more rapid search, barking her own orders. One angry Sith and his equally formidable shadow were quite enough to motivate the Stormtroopers further.

Mere moments had passed since the Commanders relayed the new search pattern to their subordinates when the result Athara was anticipating came.

"My Lady Obscura, We have the Consular in custody." Athara inwardly sighed, letting out a soft breath of relief. She gave a faint grin to the Commander—not that he could see it beneath her deep hood.

"Good. Have her escorted to Lord Vader immediately." As the Trooper acknowledged her orders, Athara turned and made her way to meet Vader. She found him in one of the mid-ship corridors, Princess Leia all but hidden by the mass of Stormtroopers surrounding her. Athara hung back, staying behind the mass of white.

Compared to Vader, Princess Leia was tiny, her petite form dwarfed by Vader's intimidating armoured height. Her disposition, however, more than made up for her size.

"Several transmissions were beamed to this ship by Rebel spies. I want to know what happened to the plans they sent you." Even with the vocorder, Vader's voice betrayed his irritation despite his attempts to keep his temper in check. The Princess gazed mildly back at the Sith Lord, a hint of her own irritation on her features.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm a member of the Imperial Senate on a diplomatic mission to Alderaan"

"You are a part of the Rebel Alliance...and a traitor. Take her away!" As the Troopers lead her away, Vader began walking in Athara's direction, one of his Commanders tagging along. Discreetly, Athara fell into step a polite distance behind them, but not so far that her Force-heightened senses couldn't hear every word spoken.

"Holding her is dangerous. If word of this gets out, it could generate sympathy for the Rebellion in the senate." Despite his bold exterior, it was easy to tell that the officer was nervous. More for his position or his life than the Imperial cause, most likely, but nervous nonetheless. Vader's ire got the better of him and his temper let out words that sounded almost desperate to the young Sith's ears.

"I have traced the Rebel spies to her. Now she is my only link to find their secret base!"

"She'll die before she tells you anything." It was a very bold thing to say to the frustrated Dark Lord. Vader, however, only rebuked him, turning to face the startled officer.

"Leave that to me. Send a distress signal and then inform the senate that all aboard were killed!" Athara couldn't help but frown at her Master's order. He was all but covering up this incident! Surely making this incident public—eventually, at least—would have served as an effective warning to others who would cross the Empire. Despite her misgivings, Athara kept her thoughts to herself, especially as a second officer approached ahead of them.

"Lord Vader, the battlestation plans are not aboard this ship, and no transmissions were made. An escape pod was jettisoned during the fighting, but no life forms were aboard." His report was blessedly succinct and to the point. Athara could all but hear Vader's conclusion before he spoke, having come to the same one as well.

"She must have hidden the plans in the escape pod. Send a detachment down to retrieve them. See to it personally, Commander. There'll be no one to stop us this time." Both the Commanders briskly acknowledged the order and hurried away. Vader continued walking, now intent on getting off the ship. Athara followed, easily catching up as Vader checked his stride so she could walk comfortably beside him.

"A successful venture, I believe, Master."

"Do not be so quick to assume success yet, my apprentice. The plans are not in my hands yet." Athara ceded him that, but there still seemed little chance for failure at this point. From what she knew of Tatooine, there were few settlements, and there had been no life forms within the escape pod.

"Yes, Master. However, I do not understand why you did not send me. I could have retrieved the plans from the planet in very little time at all. Troopers will take longer." Vader stopped abruptly, causing Athara to turn and face him. He was much taller than her, but that had never really intimidated her. She learned very early on that his size was the least threatening aspect of Darth Vader.

But then something shifted in his posture. It was so minute, she doubted anyone would've noticed. An odd surge of anticipation rose in her at the change. Though there were naturally no cues to be picked up from his face, she could sense the faintest flicker through the Force that told her he was thinking hard and fast.

Weighing which was more important; retrieving the Plans as quickly as possible? Or something...else...

Athara had always been good at interpreting things Vader left unsaid, perhaps due to the master/apprentice bond that had grown between them. The Dark Lord either did not want her to leave his side, or he did not want her stepping foot on Tatooine. Her instincts said it was the latter, given that this wasn't the first time he had prevented her from taking a mission to the isolated sand planet. But as far as Athara knew, Vader hadn't really been to the desert planet himself beyond the odd visit to pressure Jabba the Hutt to do or not do something. There was no reason why she shouldn't be able to retrieve the plans herself.

"Very well," he finally intoned, sounding less than pleased with the decision despite having deemed it necessary. "Retrieve the Plans from the planet's surface. By any means necessary." He punctuated his final instruction with a raised finger, his gaze heavy with expectation and something that felt a great deal like trepidation.

Athara was shocked. She hadn't expected him to agree. But she quickly mastered her surprise.

"Of course, Master."  

Chapter Text

A Star Wars Original & Prequel Trilogy Fanfiction

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Summary

When their escaping shuttle is caught in the devastating blast wave of the Death Star II's Destruction, the last place where Luke Skywalker and Athara Adyé expected to find themselves was the Tatooine desert with nothing but their lightsabers and the empty mask of Darth Vader. 

They certainly didn't expect to find themselves confronted with living ghosts on the sandy streets of Mos Espa. . . almost forty years in the past.

A Time Travel AU featuring to OG OC of my Star Wars Lady Adyé Series: the Dark Lady Obscura herself.

***

Full disclosure: I borderline despise the idea of Time Travel being introduced to the Star Wars Universe. Don't get me wrong, the Time Travel Fix-It trope is one of my all time favourites. . . in other fandoms. But for some reason, the concept of Time Travel in the Star Wars Universe just feels intrinsically  wrong  to me, personally. To the point where I do many mental gymnastics and. . . well, pretend it doesn't exist when it gets alluded to in Canon. Thankfully, the Live Action properties have steered clear of irrefutable mention of it and I've already personally held the Animated shows as semi-canon for other reasons I've already mentioned elsewhere ad nauseam, allowing for me to maintain my self-soothing fantasy. 

Which is why I cannot, for the life of me, understand where this blasted idea came from or why my brain is running so hard with it. 

Like, I mean whole-scenes-and-arcs-and-most-of-a-plot-mapped-out-and-a-prologue-written-and-the-first-chapter-coming-in-hot-on-its-heels running with it. 

Let's be real: it's going to be crack taken seriously.

May as well have fun with it. . . I guess.

*sigh*

***

Prologue

Athara jolted awake with a gasp, her eyes immediately squeezing shut from the sheer intensity of the sun, no, two suns blazing down on her. Her head was spinning. What. . .

The last thing she remembered was the heavy nothing of unconsciousness dragging her down as the gentle, apologetic sensation of her Master's touch brushed against her cheek.

Right as horrified despair settled into grieved resignation flashed against her dulling senses from the cockpit and the shuttle rocked as a blinding flare. . .

She sucked in a ragged breath, twisting to her side to curl tightly in on herself, utterly uncaring of the sand shifting around her, clinging to her hair and clothes and clammy skin.

And after the flare – the flare she suddenly knew with nauseating certainty what it was – was. . . nothing.

Nothing but a vague, unsettling impression of stars and water and. . . and her Master's sad, proud smile.

A ragged gasp caused her aching body to hitch painfully.

Her Master, her father in all but blood she realized with a wrenching, anguished clarity, was gone.

He'd saved them, sacrificing himself for her and-

She jolted again even as a low, pained groan sounded not far behind her.

She clenched her jaw as her body objected to how quickly she shot up, her head spinning violently as she twisted to see—

Another ragged gasp lodged painfully in her throat at the sight of her Farmboy sitting up, his forehead dropping to cradle in hands braced with his elbows on his popped knees.

"Luke—" He lifted his head, his familiar blue eyes even more vibrant than usual, shining damply in the unforgiving glare overhead.

She didn't know who moved first, and frankly, she didn't care. Not when she was clinging to his lean, very solid, very real frame and his were curling just as tight around her in return, his face pressing tight against the curve of her neck just as hers was against his. Her knuckles ached from their grip on his black tunic, but she didn't loosen them. She couldn't, not when—

"I thought we were dead," he rasped against her hair, his cybernetic hand sliding up her neck to tangle in her hair. He drew back then, and Athara eagerly returned his hard, affirming kiss, her feelings echoing his; grief, disbelief, confusion, relief and a maelstrom of too many others to be easily categorized that all came back to one simple truth:

Somehow, they were alive when they very much shouldn't be.

"The shuttle was caught in the blast wave," he murmured, struggling to make sense of it, "after that. . . I. . . I don't know what I. . . It feels like a. . . a dream I can't quite. . ."

"Stars," Athara murmured, eyes unfocused as she settled back into the vague impressions tickling at the shadowy edge of her memory. "Stars and. . . and paths—"

"—of light," Luke continued, just as distantly.

"And my Master," Athara finished, her voice wavering. Luke focused on her again, his thumb tenderly brushing away the lone tear that has spilled onto her cheek. Sucking in a ragged breath as she shook the heart-aching crush of grief aside, she shook her head, frowning as she looked up at him. "How are we here?" Her frown deepened as she properly looked around them, suddenly irritated with herself at not having done so already. "Where is here?" Luke huffed out an exasperated chuckle.

"I'd know 'here' anywhere," he said dryly with a squinting glance into the blinding sunlight and gingerly got to his feet. He held out his hand, wisely not saying anything at Athara's shaking legs even if the concern in his eyes said that he very much wanted to. "We're on Tatooine."

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A Star Wars Original Trilogy Fanfiction

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Summary

Unlike her cousin Luke, Sara Lars was perfectly content on Tatooine, helping her parents with their moisture farm and waiting for her boyfriend Biggs to come home so they could start their future together. But then two droids show up and catapult Sara into a galactic adventure right alongside Luke, and Sara must somehow manage to survive a new life she never wanted.

***

My mind is silly...I pretty much finished what work I could do on for Ana's story covering Episode VII, and think 'hey, now I can get a few more Lady Ad yé  One-shots done then I can move onto one of my original projects'...but my brain says nah, we're having so much fun with Star Wars, here; have another character: Her name is Sara, she's Luke's cousin, she's with Biggs and here's her story up through Episode IV and some of Episode V. Have fun -_- Oh well. So Sara's going to have a story now too.

I'll be honest, though, and admit I was really was torn over whether or not she should become part of my existing Lady Ady é  story-verse, but I did eventually come to a decision.

And what decision was that?

Sara Lars will not be part of my Lady Adyé Story-verse. For the longest time I wanted her to be and even had some of the integration planned out (ie, the alternate version of Beru's one-shot that included an adorable wee Sara).

However, with the appearance of my ideas for a 'What If' story for Athara, Sara became a complication to that. I probably could've made it work, but I honestly didn't want to. It means Sara's story is staying separate from the Adyés.

So Sara's going to be off in her own little Story-verse. Who knows...maybe I can even figure out a way to save Bodhi for her :P lol!

***

Excerpt from Sara's Story

Sara was combing her fingers through her blonde hair as she headed for the 'fresher. Oddly, in her near-awake state, all she could seem to think about was what a real water shower would be like; she could barely fathom it, having known only sonic-showers her whole life. Water was too precious to waste on bathing when sonic-showers did a perfectly adequate job. Absently she wondered if Biggs had ever used a water-shower while away at the Academy. Now that would've been a luxury.

And then her thoughts were on Biggs and his proposal. Not for the first time since she'd said goodbye yesterday she was wondering if she should have given him an outright yes...or an outright no. It bothered her that she hadn't given him a straight answer, even though she didn't really know what that answer would have been. It wasn't that her feelings for him were unclear, it was that her feelings for what saying yes would mean were unclear; leaving her home and her family.

She was afraid to leave Tatooine. She hadn't been exaggerating to him when she'd said being a farmgirl was all she knew. It's what she'd always believed her future would be. One day, she would manage a farm and take care of her family the way her mother, her grandmother and her grandmother's mother had done before her. It's what the women in their family did. It's what they were born and bred to do and they were good at it. There were no stronger women than the women in her family, so far as she was concerned. They were what held the moisture farms and the families that ran them together. She had no idea what she would do were she to leave that future here on Tatooine for something unknown out in the Galaxy. She had no idea who she'd be.

But she'd have Biggs. But something didn't feel quite right about that either. She loved Biggs and it was only because of her feelings for him and her desire to have a future with him that she was considering leaving her Homeplanet at all. But she didn't want it to be just about him. She wanted, well, something more than just being his wife. A purpose of her own. An identity, really, that was hers. And she had that here on Tatooine.

But her musings were abruptly cut short when she nearly ran headlong into Luke. It brought her up short, especially when she realized he wasn't just getting up like she'd expected. He was already dressed and leaving.

"Where are you going so early," she tried to say suspiciously, though the effect was hampered by her yawn.

"Just some stuff I have to do," he answered a little too brightly and a little too quickly. Sara was suddenly wide-awake, leveling her cousin with a far more effective questioning glare.

"Okay. What are you really up to?" His face crumpled and, with a quick glance down the hall to make sure they were alone, he yanked her back into her room, closing the door. He only started explaining once the door had slid shut.

"You know the little blue droid? The one Uncle bought from the Jawas yesterday?" He was speaking so softly that she nearly couldn't hear him. Sara frowned, afraid where this could be going. He couldn't seriously be considering going out looking for Old Ben! But even as she opened her mouth to admonish him he continued, voice still low but speeding up as his anxiousness got the better of him.

"He ran away last night." That was not at all what Sara had been expecting.

"And how did he manage that if he was bolted?" She couldn't help how accusing she sounded. But she already knew from the look on his face that it was warranted.

"ItwasshortingouthissystemssoImayhave—um—removed it." It took Sara a moment to decode what he'd said. She crossed her arms, giving him her best Owen impression. It must have been effective because he shrunk back from her, his ashamed expression deepening.

"So you're going to look for him?" He nodded vigorously in response. Sara threw up her hands, one of them hitting Luke on the shoulder.

"Papa's going to go spare when he finds out, either that you're chasing after it or that you lost it in the first place," she hissed, earning a pained wince from him. A pleading look appeared on her cousin's face. Sara knew that look too, her head beginning to shake with an emphatic no.

"No. Not a chance. I won't cover for this one, Luke," she snapped out. He grabbed her shoulders, looking her straight in the eye.

"I already had to go to Anchorhead to get it wiped, remember?" She scowled at him. He grinned, seeing that he'd gotten to her.

"Fine," she hissed, "but if he does find out, I'm not taking the fall for you." Luke grinned wider. She scoffed; they both knew that if that did happen she would probably figure out a way to get him out of it anyway; save on the harvest issue, Sara had her Papa wrapped around her finger. He placed a quick peck on her cheek.

"What am I going to do when you come to your senses and run off with Biggs," he quipped lightly. Sara's cheeks flamed. But she snorted, shaking her head at her cousin.

"You'll be out of here first, I think," she quipped back as he hit the control to open the door. He beamed at her before disappearing out into the hallway. 

Chapter Text

A Star Wars Sequel Trilogy Fanfiction

***

Summary

Kylo Ren is a lone agent of destruction, a separate, lonely entity within the First Order he is bound to serve. But an unexpected connection with a First Order seamstress - whose job it is to mend frayed edges and torn seams - might just hold the key to his redemption.

***

Oh, God...please stop me... Why is it that, when I'm trying desperately to work on ALLLLLLL my other stories - several of them already Star Wars - another one always inevitably invites itself to the party? It happened when working on Force Awakens (Sara's story materialized) and with Rogue One (Balance of Choice....) and now this. A Kylo Ren story. 

Gist of this one? Not a whole lot to go on, at this point, but thanks to the 'Laundry' scene and the random musing that someone would have to create and likely mend Ben/Kylo's (admittedly awesome) garments, our new OC, JM-3827 or 'Gemma', would be a garment officer or something in the First Order - likely stolen away as Finn was, perhaps even part of the Stormtrooper training program of Hux's and sent into specialization in garments.....or something....and relationship develops and she started nudging him back toward the light, blah blah, journey to redemption, blah blah, romance, you get it :P

...the question now is whether or not this one should be part of the Lady Adye story-verse. I have to be honest, I can totally see it.....

But yeah, development still ongoing...though hopefully not for a while yet as I am still hip deep in at least another half-dozen actively writing stories....I do have a few awfully poignant scenes from the climax already flitting around in my head, though....

***

Excerpt

HIs grip tightened on her arm. "And if I ordered you to stay here?" A deep, primal fear woke deep in her gut as her eyes went wide. 

But she said nothing. She didn't nod or shake her head. She just stood there, waiting, immoveable, her eyes fixed on the centre of his chest.

After an impossibly long moment, his grip fell away and he scoffed.

"That is one thing you need never fear from me," he said dryly, sounding nearly bored. "I am above such base desires."

Bizarrely enough, she believed him, and a shuddering, relieved breath gusted free.

Chapter Text

A Star Wars - The Mandalorian Fanfiction

***

Summary

With the rise of the Empire and the waning of the Tatooine's podracing fervour, Mos Espa was no longer quite the thriving hub it once was. But it was Tani Deak's home, and where her father had run his plied his trade, sharpening blades from his little shop - a shop that was now Tani's. And blades would always need to be sharpened, no matter the fortunes of their desert city as the days of the Civil War reached a tipping point - blades belonging to outlaws, farmers, raiders...

...and even the odd helmeted bounty hunter.

***

*Le sigh* .....yeah.....on one hand I want to groan and complain and berate my brain for this nonsense, but let's be honest....at this point, I'm willing to work on pretty much anything given that I haven't been able to write much of anything for far longer than I want to admit. Hopefully it'll be quick and fun and help me get my mojo back in gear so I can actually work on the projects I need to work on! *fingers-crossed*

So anyway. A Mandalorian fanfic! Woohoo! Honestly, started rolling the idea for this one around in my head during the first season already but, you know, other projects beckoned....or at least, I wanted them to.... Buuuut then I distracted myself from my writer's block/burnout with an escape into some Oberyn fanfiction and that coupled with Season 2 starting up and boom. Tani's story has officially been started.

Who is Tani you say? Well, Tani Deak is a Tatooine woman with a small blade-sharpening stall in Mos Espa that she took over after her father died....including some off the books and, err, less than popular 'savage' clientele. 

And guess who she's going to meet shortly before the fall of the Empire? I mean, he did imply that he's spent a bit of quality time on Tatooine *before* the Child entered his life..... ;) 

Oh, and did I mention that she's blind? Make of that what you will. 

***

Excerpt

There was something soothing to the hum of the sharpener and the feel of the cool stone and slick steel beneath her fingers. Familiar. Tani smoothed her thumb along the edge of the blade, the pad sensitive enough to feel the final remnants of the knicks and burrs that lingered still.

A few deft flicks of her wrist and the blade hissed across the whetstone fixed to her counter. A final quick wipe against the oiled cloth in her lap and an brush of her fingers along the edge and she was satisfied.

"Deo?" The whirr and chink of mechanical joints approached from her left. She held up the carver. "This is the last of them?"

"Yes, Miss," came the labour droid's monotone. The carving knife was carefully lifted from her hands. "Shall I stow them?"

"Cabinet 2, box 6 should be large enough for the whole order," she confirmed, reaching out to power down the sharpening unit. "And I think that's enough for today. The prefect's housekeeper isn't due in until tomorrow afternoon, so I can finish his order in the morning. You can close up."

The old droid moved away with a solemn 'very good, miss,' leaving Tani to finish tidying her workspace, replacing her different stones and tools in their crate once they were properly cleaned and oiled to her exacting standards.

At the front of her little business, she could hear the creak and rumble of the awning lowering and the grind and clunk of the shutter being pulled into place for the night as Deo carried out her instructions. Another moment and the subtle buzz of the lights fell silent followed by the droid's approach.

Standing and wiping her hands, Tani circled the counter that made up her workstation, pausing only hang up her apron to double check that the crate was properly latched. Then, once Deo had collected the crate, Tani stepped out into the evening sun. She inhaled deeply, taking in the unique hot, dry scent of the desert beyond the city that almost managed to dissipate the cloying metallic tang of ship exhaust and oddly meaty odour that clung to the city. As evening fast approached, the blistering heat of the day was starting ease into something far more comfortable, the touch of the suns on her face no longer so harsh. It would make for a far more pleasant walk home, she commented to Deo as she laid a hand on his arm. Naturally he agreed.

Indeed, by the time Deo and Tani made their way to her little home just past the outskirts, the evening was well on the way to turning cool as the first of the suns approached the horizon.

She hesitated only for a moment of consideration upon stepping inside before crossing the small living space to gather a couple pallies from the counter and fill the canteen that waited next to the tiny kitchen's pitted spigot. She sighed at the tired, spluttering hiss that preceded the half-hearted gush of water.

"Deo, remind me that the reservoir will need to be filled tomorrow."

"I will see to it when I deliver Bandi Mar's commission." Tani smiled, turning toward the sound of the droid's voice.

"What would I do without you," she quipped fondly as she headed for the back door. She hesitated with a muttered curse, "oh, and can you bring out my crate outside?" At the droid's acknowledgement, she nudged the door control with the side of her hand. As far outside the main city as she was, the evening was quiet and peaceful, the evening breeze gentle as it came in off the Dune Sea. Far nicer for sitting outside, she mused as she made her way toward the adobe wall that enclosed the generator that powered her home as well as the rest of the scattered cluster of outbuildings that stood between her and the meandering northern outskirts of Mos Espa.

Sure enough, as Deo caught up with her and set the crate she asked for down next to the old bench her father had set up years before for just such occasions, a particular musky scent drifted in on the breeze. She'd wondered if they'd show up tonight. After all, she had heard whispers that they were in the area. With a small smile, Tani settled on the bench, nibbling on one of the pallies as she listened to Deo set up her father's old brazier. It wasn't a fire, but it served well enough for the customs of these particular clients.

It was the intent that counted, as her father had once explained. 

Chapter Text

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

***

Summary

Melaina Prince is the last direct heir to the Prince family, a family that has dark allegiances. Growing up with only the support and affections of her cousin Severus and Uncle Lucius, she is surprised to find an ally in a Weasley, especially with the outbreak of the Second Wizarding War. Old prejudices are challenged at every turn...on both sides.

***

I have characters and a general plot in my head!! Sort of. I'm still hemming and hawing over the pairing being Fred/OC later Bill Weasley/OC (the front-runner) or Fred/OC later George/OC or just George/OC.... A great deal subject to change!! Save names and the basic, bare-bones of the story. 

She is staying Melaina Prince... and she is staying Snape's cousin and Lucius's niece...though Sirius and a Black connection are trying to work its way in there...and a Dolohov link? Maybe a little brother or sister, a side pairing of Fremione...My brain is stupid...

***

Excerpt

"A gift, my dear Miss Prince." His voice was nearly gentle, save for the cruel satisfaction in it. It cut through the miasma of her pain like a knife. Melaina opened her eyes only to be rewarded with a steady, agonizing throbbing behind them, but it was nothing compared to the searing, lancing pain on her left forearm. Tears leaked from beneath her eyelids as understanding crashed in on her.

He'd brought her to be marked. Her own father, Quenton Prince, the scion of one of the oldest and noblest Pureblood families in the wizarding world, had blithely handed her over to the Dark Lord. She had feared, suspected and tried to discount the notion that her father was a Death Eater. Now she couldn't ignore the reality. She opened her eyes again, tentatively moving in order to look around, forcibly ignoring the way her whole body ached.

Yes, bowed, nearly cowering behind He-Who-Must-Not-be-Named, was her father, looking up at the Dark Lord with eager anticipation, like a puppy begging for a reward. Melaina fought to keep from retching as the pain behind her eyes flared and the burning on her arm crept across of her skin. Her only remaining family member sold her out...well, no. She still had one who cared for her...

But it was then that she caught sight of her cousin standing not far from her father, nearly hidden in the shadows near the fireplace, watching the scene before him impassively. She saw nothing in Severus' dark gaze as he looked down on her. Her eyes prickled and her stomach heaved, the sour taste of bile rising quickly in her throat. She couldn't fight it this time.

As her retching faded to dry heaves, she heard the Dark Lord tsking in mock disappointment.

"You do not appreciate my gift?" He raised his wand in a long-fingered hand, a manic glint in his slit-pupiled eyes, "how disrespectful of you. Perhaps a lesson in manners...Crucio!"

Melaina screamed.

Chapter Text

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

***

Summary

(still working on a formal summary - see below)

***

I'm laying this one wholly at the feet of the Death Eater Express...they've all had a bad influence on me. It started with the discovery of Caminal's The Minister's Secret, which led to joining the DEE and culminated with a 'have you seen this story' post. And boom. New story idea...  It is inspired (and approved) by laumirot's My Little Dragon and will likely be influenced by two of the greatest (imho) HP time-travel stories ever, Shayalonnie's The Debt of Time and The Minister's Secret. I can only endeavour to write a story even half so incredible as either of their master-works.

So here it goes...we'll see if this one ever gets written...

The gist will be that, at beginning her Eighth Year, Hermione, through a chance of circumstance, becomes privy to the newly discovered secret that Draco is not, in fact, Narcissa's son with Lucius. And as circumstance and fate continues to conspire, she finds herself thrown back in time... Cue the casual time-loop story. I n doing so, a chain of events is launched that will see her coming to see Severus Snape as a brother, learning to love a young Lucius Malfoy and discovering that she is, in fact, Draco's real mother... meanwhile, those she left behind in the present come to realize just what has happened and the implications.

There's still a lot to work out - like how in the heck she's going to be travelling through time in the first place (pretty sure I have that figured, at least one way) and how to reconcile Narcissa's canon actions with her role in this story - but I have the gist of it worked out already in my head.

Stay tuned!

***

Opening Excerpt

Lucius knew exactly when it all changed. He could pinpoint exactly when everything changed.

It was a snap, like a pane of glass cracking in his mind.

At first he'd thought he'd gone mad. He knew the Cruciatus could do it, that it could drive a person insane.

But as the curse continued—his throat ripped raw from his screams already, his bones feeling like they were being crushed to powder, his skin peeling from his flesh—he still felt entirely too sane despite the agonizing torment for his mind to have broken.

It was only as the Dark Lord turned away, satisfied that the lesson had been absorbed, that Lucius realized exactly what had happened.

A memory charm had been broken.

He remembered her.

And all the old wounds on his heart from her disappearing from his life broke open again, bleeding and burning, making the lingering pain from the Dark Lord's Cruciatus seem to fade in its intensity. Only now it was worse...because he'd forgotten her.

Even as the Dark Lord urged him forward with a powerful stinging hex to check the Potter Boy for life, even as the heavy silence of the clearing echoed in his ears, she filled his mind, her voice pleading, urging him to remember his promise to her...

...protect our son.

Protect Draco.

Chapter Text

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

***

Summary

What if, in his impatience, Voldemort hadn't bothered to kill Lily, just swept her aside? What if James had his wand? What if James' sacrifice was enough? 

What if Lily had lived?

***

And this one I'm blaming on The Shrieking Shack Society... it's a 'Lily Lives' story that will ultimately become a Lily/Sirius story. I actually already have the prologue (or maybe first chapter...we're undecided) written up...but I need to focus on other stuff first, so it's queued...just like aaaaaalllllll the others.

This is another one that's a loooong way off. For one, there'll be a lot to work through. I mean...Lily living would naturally change soooo much.... But someone set the little plunny 'any Sirius/Lily stories out there?' loose in my head and in the space of half an hour the prologue came out. I have a rough idea of the beginning but that's it. Well, that and one little scene with Harry, Sirius, Ron and Hermione right as Lily realizes Sirius has done something he wasn't supposed to.... :P

So we'll see if this one ever happens.

***

Prologue

"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off—" Though terror was pounding in her veins, Lily didn't hesitate. With a final glance to her husband, she was bolting up the stair, racing to Harry's room where she could hear his first babbling cries; James' shout and the sound of the door being blasted open had woken their little boy.

A small, detached part of her mused irritably that they'd just gotten the toddler down to sleep after James had wound him up with one too many silly games just before bed. But a far larger part pushed that thought away with dread and the first threads of grief.

Deep down, she knew they were about to die.

There was no escape. The Anti-Apparition wards Dumbledore had put up as a security measure meant she couldn't simply take Harry and go, and she knew she couldn't run. She could fight—James had fought—but she knew it would be futile.

And no one survived once Voldemort decided to kill them.

Her chest clenched as her vibrant green eyes fell on her son. Harry looked up to her, sleepy eyes wide and bewildered at being startled awake, the beginnings of tears glimmering in the corners of his equally vibrant green eyes.

She slammed the door shut behind her, muttering every locking spell she could think of, hoping that they might give her an extra second that she could use to save her son's life. That was all that mattered.

Harry.

As she quickly layered the last spell over the door, the muffled shouts she heard from downstairs fell abruptly silent, a dull green flare of light visible through the slit beneath the door. Lily choked back a sob that tried to claw its way up her throat.

There was no mistaking what that horrid flash meant.

She turned to Harry. He just watched her curiously, not understanding what had just happened downstairs. Another sob tried to claw its way from her chest.

But Lily forced it back. Now was not the time.

She could grieve later...if she survived.

She and James had spoken about this at length. What to do if Voldemort managed to find them, if he somehow got past the Fidelus Charm. Her thoughts tried to side-track at that thought, a searing, spike of pure rage stabbing through her as it hit her what Voldemort knowing the Secret meant. But she forcibly shoved that thought away too; something else to leave until after.

She needed to focus. She didn't have much time. Not only because Voldemort was undoubtedly making his way up the stairs at that very moment to kill her son...

...but because there was only so much time to accept the protection James' sacrifice would give Harry.

And prepare for her own sacrifice to do the same.

Deep in the recesses of the Potter Library, she'd come across an old, forgotten tome that, buried in its pages, had held a protection spell. At first, Lily had cringed away from it, realizing at once what the terms of the spell required.

But then they had learned Voldemort was hunting them. And they had learned that Voldemort wanted nothing more than to kill Harry. While Lily had been skeptical of Dumbledore's furtive hints that Harry was prophesied to be the key to Voldemort's defeat, she hadn't been able to ignore the fact that Voldemort believed it. Neither had she been able to ignore the feeling deep in her gut that told her they wouldn't be able to hide forever.

And the protection spell had reemerged from the nebulous realm of her memory.

She'd told James about it that first night they'd been in hiding.

At first he too had shied away from it; it was blood magic, he'd snapped, and too unpredictable and dangerous because of it. But as the days had turned to weeks, the feeling of inevitability had begun to press on him, and he had brought it up again. After weeks of discussing it and researching, they had decided that it would be their last resort. Should Voldemort find them...Harry needed to be protected at all costs. But it was more than his overwhelming love for his son that had James reconsidering; as much as he hated the thought of the future resting on his child's shoulders, James had believed Dumbledore when he'd told them Harry was the key to winning the War where Lily had scoffed at the viability of prophecy. Lily simply needed to do whatever she could to protect her son.

So they had initiated the spell, laying the magical groundwork so that, should one or both of them be killed, Harry would still have their protection after their death. Lily, being as skilled with Charms as she was, had woven the first layers around her, James and their precious child, drawing on James' power to bolster her own considerable magical strength.

And now that Voldemort had come?

It was time to complete the spell.

Another shuddering sob threatened to shatter the incantations that had started falling from her lips the instant she had turned back to her son. A tingle of power fluttered across her skin as the spell took hold, the signature unmistakably James. In his cot, Harry made a face as it settled around him, imbuing his skin with a soft, soothing glow. At once he calmed, as though knowing the magical energy surrounding him belonged to his father. The first of Lily's tears spilled down her cheeks.

And then she started her own, slightly different set of incantations.

After all, she wouldn't be able to perform the charm once she was dead.

Dread mingled with hope in the pit of her stomach.

Seconds had passed since the green light had flashed beneath the door. And she knew her time was just about up. Her wand fell from her fingers to land silently on the rug.

She knelt in front of Harry's cot, reaching out to cup his round cheek as she stared into his dear face. Her own eyes stared back at her from her husband's face. More tears threatened to blur her vision as the last words of the spell fell from her lips. Another wave of tingling magical energy washed over her, flooding from the centre of her own chest and down her arm to her son. His little brow furrowed at the sensation but his expression quickly cleared, instinctively recognizing his mother's magical signature just as he had recognized his father's only seconds before.

"Harry, you are so loved," she murmured, her voice wavering with regret, but the overwhelming love she felt for her son strengthening it, "Mama loves you. Dada loves you. Harry, be safe. Be strong." She got to her feet, the movement feeling like it was almost too much for her body to bear. Grief and resignation was starting to take its toll, as was the drain her spells had placed on her magical core.

The door exploded behind her.

A cry burst from her lips as she curled around her son, instinctively protecting him from the blast. As shards of wood from the door settled around her, she was already spinning, her hands clenching around the rail of the cot, keeping her own body firmly between the threat and her son.

A high-pitched cackle filled the nursery. Lily's grip on the cot tightened, her knuckles white and aching on the rail as a shudder of fear and revulsion skittered through her at the sight of Lord Voldemort advancing toward her.

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!" The words burst from her lips, her voice shaking and desperate as fear flooded through her at the way his inhuman eyes tried to glance around her to her son. He scoffed, the sound dismissive as he stepped closer.

"Stand aside, you silly girl...stand aside, now..."

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead—" His pale brow creased faintly in annoyance, his mouth twisting with impatience. Voldemort gestured sharply, his grip tightening on his wand.

"This is my last warning —" Lily shook her head, her resolve and her instinct to protect her child at all costs warring with her terror.

"Not Harry!" she pleaded, her voice rising in desperation. "Please... have mercy... have mercy... Not Harry! Not Harry! Please — I'll do anything..." A silent snarl curled the Dark Lord's lips. His wand rose, the tip flicking with a lazy, impatient gesture.

And Lily was crashing across the room, dashed aside by the almost absent flick of his wand.

Disoriented with pain, her vision blurred, her body aching from the force of being thrown into the pale-painted wall of Harry's nursery, she struggled to pull herself back up, weak protests already falling like a jumbled mess from her lips..

"No...no, please...Harry...Harry!"

A flash of green seared across her eyes and Lily screamed.

Only for an explosion to rip through the room, the shockwave buffeting Lilly back painfully against the wardrobe as a high-pitched shriek rent the air.

As Lily blacked out the last thing she heard was the frightened cries of her son.

Chapter Text

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

***

Summary

Nothing formal at this point.

***

So in that lovely creative moment between sleep and forcing one's self to wake up, I had a thought for a fic that just won't leave me be. Not sure of too much yet, but I do have a few key moments that have materialized in my overactive imagination.

Long story short, it's to pick a DE (possibly even just a name) to fit a facecast/beginnings of characteristics from my plunny.

The jist that I've got of the story so far is that, for a reason to still be determined, in the aftermath of the Final Battle, Hermione gets collected up and detained with the remnants of Voldemort's army/followers (likely because of Umbridge because, let's face it, it seems the scheme-y sort of conniving and vindictive thing she'd try to organize to get rid of Hermione). Because of the sheer volume of detainees, they are all thrown into a mass barracks sort of situation (likely in Azkaban, but perhaps at another location...again, tbd), and Hermione finds herself the only female amid dozens of some of the worst sorts (and perhaps the odd other ally)...and naturally, finds herself in all kinds of danger being 'Potter's Mudblood' and all that.

However, among the Death Eaters and Voldemort's allies there is a character who, at first glance, is just as much a threat as the other DEs. Yet this character will prove to be Hermione's best chance for survival, offering her a measure of protection and alliance.

And naturally, lovely warm feelings and perhaps the odd warmer moment will ensue. ;D

Especially since, once more, Luke Evans has wormed his way into yet another facecast as the male lead in my story..... Now it's just deciding which character he will be....so far the favourite option is Rabastan Lestrange with Rodolphus or Dolohov as the immediate threats, though Dolohov is proving a tantalizing option as well. We'll just have to see. There are so many 'named' DEs that have next to no characterization in canon that could easily be expanded to fill the role....Rosier, Mulciber, Avery, Selwyn....the list goes on. C:

Stay tuned!    

***

Excerpt

    "I may be a Death Eater, Miss Granger, but my Mother taught me to always treat a woman with respect and dignity, no matter their blood status or station. To do otherwise is a mark of crude manners."    

Chapter Text

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

***

Summary

Nothing formal at this point.

***

The vaguest of inclinations for this one has been lurking in the back of my mind for ages. A Triad fic that adds Hermione into the mix with Bill and Fleur. But it wasn't one that I ever seriously considered writing. Just one I wanted to read.

Then I come across a story by the talented Aleisha Potter over on FFN (called  Familial Obligations which is great, btw, even though it's unfinished, so go check it out!)  that made use of an interesting trope/cliche to facilitate a Hermione/Bill pairing. And my brain started pondering....and pondering....and pondering....and, well, we all know how that turns out. 

And so, here we are: the idea is that, due to his run-in with Greyback leaving him with traces of lycanthropy, Bill and Fleur are unable to conceive due to incompatibility of the curse with her Veela nature. So they look for alternatives...and alternatives include - for lack of a better term - a surrogate. Enter Hermione.

Hermione, who has always felt drawn to both of them, and who both Bill and Fleur have similarly been intrigued by in the past....and, of course, you can see how things will likely go from there. ;) 

We'll see how it goes. 

***

Excerpt

Still a new idea, so nothing concrete yet. :)

Chapter Text

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

***

Summary

Nothing formal at this point.

***

Well, you can tell how well this idea's going, atm...I even have a title! lol! I don't have a whole lot else, but it's more than I have for the balance of my Upcoming Fic ideas.

It's another Time Travel one, only this one wouldn't be just Hermione. Nope, there'd be a whole group going back. Harry and Hermione, for sure, with the other three (or five, depending on how my arcs develop) pulling from Ron, Ginny, the Twins, Pansy, Daphne, Draco and Luna. 

As for pairings, nothing in stone, yet, but I'm leaning toward Remione, with Sirius ending up with either Ginny, Daphne or Pansy. Very little else is set in stone, just yet. Just that there may be some minor Dumbledore-bashing, they'll be collecting Baby Harry from the Dursleys, getting Sirius out of Azkaban and all sorts of other fix-it fun.

***

Excerpt

"I...I found something. A...a ritual."

"A ritual?"

"In one of the books Dumbledore had on—that talked about horcruxes."

"What?! Hermione, are you crazy?"

"Ron, I—"

"No! Those books are all Dark Magic. The darkest of the dark. Blood magic, curses, sacrifices—"

"Sacrifices?"

"Yes, Harry."

"And this one you want to try..."

"Would involve a sacrifice, yes."

"No bloody way, Hermione. You're not dabbling in—"

"Oh, for God's sake, Ronald! Not all of the magic in these books is 'dark'! Just old—ancient and archaic, even—and fallen out of practice, but not inherently evil. Not all of it!"

"But—"

"Just hear me out!" Hermione was well and truly on her way to losing her temper, her hair growing frizzier by the second. But it was the almost desperate gleam in her eye that had the boys hesitating. When she was satisfied that they were going to let her speak, she began. "I found a ritual to...to go back in time. It's old, dangerous magic, and we wouldn't be able to do it alone, but...considering..." she faltered then, but they all knew what she'd left unsaid.

At this point, they had very little left to lose.

Even if they still somehow managed to kill Voldemort?

The war was already all but lost.

"What's the sacrifice?" Harry finally asked softly. Hermione made a soft noise of distress at the resignation in his voice, but swallowed it back to answer.

"A life." She winced as the words left her mouth and Harry's shoulders hunched. Ron, meanwhile, surged to his feet.

"What? One of us has to die? How can you even—" But Hermione was on her feet in and instant, too, holding her hands out in entreaty.

"No! Ron, listen to me—"

"I'll do it." Harry's soft voice silenced them both.

"What? No, Harry," Hermione objected, the desperate gleam returning. "We might not have to," she blurted out quickly. Both boys frowned, mouths gaping as they struggled to find the words to ask what she meant. Swallowing thickly, she paced, her hands wringing together as she plucked up her Gryffindor courage as she gathered her thoughts. Finally she turned to Harry.

And her eyes flicked unconsciously up to his scar.

She knew the moment he put the pieces together.

"It is a Horcrux, isn't it." Mutely, she nodded.

"I think so."

"What are you talking about," Ron burst in angrily. "What Horcrux! We already destroyed the ones we fou—"

"My scar," Harry cut him off softly. And Ron's complexion turned the colour of curdled milk as it suddenly clicked for him too. They both looked to Hermione.

"We've got to—"

"The ritual," she said softly, interrupting Ron's panicked insistence that they had to do something about Harry's scar. Both Ron and Harry frowned in confusion again. Hermione nearly huffed in exasperation. But then comprehension began to light behind Ron's eyes. He looked between Hermione, Harry and Harry's scar.

"You want to sacrifice the Horcrux?"

Chapter Text

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

***

Summary

Nothing formal at this point.

***

Yeah, another Time Travel Fic idea. A Tomione one, this time. Could be fun. Right?

Hermione ends up in the past - First Wizarding War Era - only to discover shortly after her arrival in the past that things aren't quite adding up to the history she remembers learning about during her Hogwarts years, especially when it comes to the existence of the Dark Lord's secretive and mysterious Lady.

A lady who very, very strongly resembles an older Hermione.... >:) 

Cue another Time Jump backward.

Just, please don't ask me about the logistics of the time travel in this one. It's kind of a demon hybrid of loop/cyclic and alternate timeline. I really don't 100% know...let's just pin it on 'magic' and leave it at that, yeah?

***

Excerpt

The wool of the blanket draped over her shoulders itched against the skin of her neck and cheeks, but Hermione was far too chilled where she huddled beneath it, curling around the mug of hot chocolate someone had pressed into her icy hands. Not that the blanket nor the tea were accomplishing much. The chill went far deeper.

A side effect of dementor exposure, among other factors.

She felt utterly numb. Detached. For once her thoughts were eerily silent.

Shock, she had heard those around her murmur more than once.

Shock indeed.

Everything had gone wrong. So very, very wrong.

They'd been so close to grabbing the locket. But the instant Harry had lunged for Umbridge, her patronus had failed.

Then? Chaos.

The dementors had swarmed. If there was one small, silver lining to the disaster that had come of their tattered plans, was that as Harry had shoved her ahead of him out of the courtroom, she'd heard Umbridge's shrieks abruptly die before he'd slammed the door shut behind them.

Not that it had done them much good.

She still wasn't entirely sure how they'd found themselves in the Department of Mysteries—their desperate bid for freedom saw them ducking through corridors and halls as each clear avenue was cut off by dementors and aurors and Death Eaters alike—but the last thing she remembered after being separated from Harry by the dementors was Dolohov's furious rictus and a flash of the same purple flames from her nightmares when he cornered her in the...

...the Time Room...

The mug fell to the floor with a dull crack.

"It would seem you understand the gravity then as well, Miss Granger." Hermione started, her attention snapping around to her once and former Headmaster.

Her very much not dead former headmaster.

Yes, the suddenly impossible faces that she'd found herself surrounded by made perfect sense.

She hadn't quite believed them when she'd been assured she wasn't dead—even the battle she'd landed in the middle of hadn't quite disabused her of that notion. It would've been just her luck to end up in a purgatory where the war that had consumed her life since she'd entered the magical world still raged on.

Well, apparently that wasn't the case.

She believed now.

Albus Dumbledore was studying her carefully over the glimmering rims of his half-moon spectacles, a veneer of sympathetic concern overlaying what she belatedly realized was calculation.

She suddenly regretted being so lost in her own thoughts that she'd missed the preceding conversation.

Not that his statement was any less relevant to her own private realization. 

Chapter Text

A Harry Potter/Criminal Minds Crossover Fanfiction

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Summary

Summary still to be written - Secondary pairings still undecided, but the Primary Pairing will definitely be Hermione/Aaron Hotchner.

***

This one rather ambushed me. I've always enjoyed a good Criminal Minds/Harry Potter crossover, but on rewatching the series over the last several months? This idea, lovelies! It just grabbed hold and wouldn't let go. And given how much trouble I've been having with writing anything the last couple years? Well, I've just been letting myself roll with it. 

Doesn't help (hurt?) that my no-longer teenaged self has a very much new appreciation for Hotch. ;)

So here we are. The beginnings of a new project.

The informal summary: After her whole life falls apart in Britain in the years following the War, Hermione moves to the US with her daughter Rose, disappearing into the muggle world as Jean (last name tbd) with limited contact to the American Wizarding World only in her capacity as a leading Runes Master. It's there that she eventually fonds herself moving in next door to our favourite BAU Unit Chief, Aaron Hotchner and his son Jack, who quickly because little Rosie's best friend. Naturally, their children's friendship leads to a whole lot more developing between Hermione and Aaron.

And, of course, Hermione and Rosie's adoption by the whole BAU family and some inevitable magical aspects to at least one case necessitating Hermione's consultation. ;)

And forgive me for  loosing track, but I've read a number of x-overs where Rossi is a squib, most I think by the same author, and I just love that idea, so I'm going to be incorporating that. So I will be crediting that author for the inspiration once I find them again.

***

Sneak Peek

Time seemed to slow as the door - the locked door, as he distinctly remembered locking it after them - popped open.

With Jack's hand still a good two feet from the knob.

Aaron's heart was suddenly, painfully in his throat.

"Jack," he barked, already reaching to pull his son back from the door, already starting to bend to reach the gun strapped to his ankle.

Only to falter as Jean's hand closed tightly on his forearm, her nails digging almost painfully through his shirtsleeve. She had paled, her bourbon eyes wide and almost unnaturally intense despite her startled frown. Unease twisted in Aaron's gut.

"Rose?" she asked sharply. But the curly-haired little girl was already shaking her head, her brown eyes wide.

"It wasn't me, Mummy," she blurted.

"I'm sorry!" Both Jean and Aaron looked to Jack, Jean with dawning comprehension and Aaron with growing bewilderment. "I just wanted to show her my dinosaurs. I'm sorry," he said, his large eyes wide and frightened as he looked, panicked between the two adults. But Jean was already shaking her head, a gentle, reassuring smile on her face as she stepped forward, kneeling next to her daughter and looking to Jack. Aaron could only look on, stunned and utterly lost even as a glimmer of understanding began to take hold.

"It's all right. It was an accident. You didn't do anything wrong," she soothed. She glanced between Jack and Aaron. "But I think your Daddy and I need to talk." Aaron frowned, considering the woman kneeling next to his son.

She knew... she knew something about the odd, inexplicable things that sometimes happened around Jack.

"Yes, I think we do."

Chapter Text

A Harry Potter/Twilight Crossover Fanfiction

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Summary

Summary still to be written - Pairing undecided, though most likely Hermione/Jasper or possibly even a Hermione/Jasper/Alice triad.

***

Ah, this one....I can't believe I'm even considering this....I don't even like Twilight.....but someone rec'd me a couple x-overs on another site and they were kind of fun to read. The idea of a post-Second Wizarding War Hermione and Jasper is intriguing, what with their similar histories as (unwilling) soldiers, and I already have a set of cute little scenes in my head where Hermione and the Cullens realize what the others are...it could be fun. If it ever happens, of course.

No idea if I'll add in the 'Hermione as Bella's Visiting Relative' trope but it is a convenient and logical way to link the universes, so maybe. It'll likely be post-Eclipse, but definitely post New Moon. 

So we'll see....I still can't believe I'm considering it..... 

***

No excerpt as of yet.

Chapter Text

A Harry Potter/Sherlock Crossover Fanfiction

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Summary

Summary still to be written - it will be a Hermione/John Watson pairing, though

***

Ah yes...another one that may or may not ever happen. I have several scenes already flitting around in my head, though, so we'll see. 

The gist, though will be thus: scratch Mary and replace with Hermione. That simple and that complex. It's not that I don't like Mary (I do) but there is an intriguing potential parallel between her and her past/secrets and Hermione and her magic and past and so on and so on.... It could be fun! 

So we'll see what happens!

***

No excerpt as of yet.

Chapter Text

A Jurassic World Fanfiction

***

Summary

They had been a Team, in more ways than one, but after the Navy, Kara and Owen's lives had gone off in two separate directions; he'd been recruited to the Raptor Training Program at Jurassic World. And Kara? Kara returned to her hometown. He'd chosen his career over her. So when he'd shown up at her bar after the Isla Nublar Fiasco? She should've wanted to throw him out.

She didn't.

Owen/OC

***

Summary is tentative. 

I have smattering of dialogue. And a lemon. So against my judgement this one may happen...

Okay, not much to go on, but my brain is stupid and won't bloody let it go. Not sure of a whole lot, but what I do have suggests that it'll probably start a little before or a little after JW and go through at least to the end of JW:FK. So far the most substantial bit that I've got is that, after JW, Owen and my as of yet unnamed (though my brain is leaning to Kara just now, for some reason...) retreat to her small hometown, where she's takes up a job at the local bar while he starts building his cabin in the woods.  Beyond that, I won't know until I start writing. I'm still not even 100% set on the shared navy background thing. 

I'm also considering that she might be a fellow JW employee before the incident (the potential image in my head that she's one of the keepers for the 'petting zoo' bit since I've got this awesome mental picture of her going up against one of the pterasaurs to protect one of her baby triceratops, or something :P)

That's all I've got, so far. I know, it's so much...

***

Sneak Peek

"You have to go..."

"What? Kara—"

"For Blue. I know you, Owen. I...I may hate the idea, but I know if you don't at least try to save her, you'll never forgive yourself."

Chapter Text

An Mamma Mia Fanfiction

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Summary

Donna, Harry, Sam and Bill all have fond memories of the summer of 1979. They also have heartbreaking ones. But what really happened? (Summary & Title subject to Change)

***

So one thing I'd like to make very clear. I really liked Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again. I did. I loved it. It was well done, the cast was awesome and the music was, as anticipated, fantastic.

That being said....

I do have one very real complaint about it. As good as the movie was, it was as though the writer decided to watch the first one, got an idea, and totally threw out everything we learned about Donna's past with the Three Fathers so they could do their own thing. All that was left was the very basic framework. Very little of what we learned in the first 10 minutes of the first movie, during 'Our Last Summer' and by way of details scattered throughout the movie was adhered to. And we actually learned a fair bit, if you pay attention.

So what does my brain do with this? Well, it decides it would like to take a stab at writing what the movie should have done for the 1979 flashbacks. So that's what this story is going to be about. It's going to be the story of Donna and the Three Fathers' Summer, but as the first movie described. 

May or may not count as a 'Song-fic'. Not sure, yet.

***

Excerpt

Nothing yet. 

Chapter Text

A Game of Thrones Fanfiction

***

Summary

With her village destroyed and her parents dead, Elen and her little brother Olly find themselves dangerously alone in the Gift. While Castle Black offers the potential of a safe haven, it's not exactly a safe place for a girl. But for a boy? And with winter coming, Elen is running out of options. Jon Snow/OC

***

This one hit me like a bag of rocks when Season 6 started, so even though I never planned on writing an OC-centric Game of Thrones fic, well, here I am. 

And I say "Game of Thrones" rather than "A Song of Ice and Fire" because I'm going TV-verse on this one. Not that I won't be drawing on supplementary material from the books to flesh things out, but I'm following the show on this one. It was going quite quickly...but then Captain America: Civil War happened...and Bucky...so yeah....backburner on this one too....

It should be fun, though, if a little tricky to implement while sticking fairly close to show canon. Especially with developments in Season 7 (since the idea came about and developed during Season 6). But I think I have a way around the ones that are...contradictory with my vision for this one. Ways that involve the insanely rare Jaime/Dany pairing....Yeah, I'm not sure where that one came from, either. All I know is I'm watching the first real trailer for Season 8 and, I don't know, the idea just started niggling away and now here we are. 

Season 8 Update: Let's just say that fears about what the last season could do to this story after events of Season 7 have been totally allayed by Season 8. I have ALL the ideas, now and know *exactly* how this one is generally going to play out. CX Yay!

***

Excerpt

Elen Baele stood staring down at the body at her feet. She hadn't even bent down to see if there was any chance of life. If it had been a deer or a goat even a rabbit, she'd have said they'd taken all the good bits, leaving behind the rest for the crows.

But it wasn't a deer or a goat or a rabbit. It was hard to tell who it was. Long, blood-matted locks of hair were tangled over the hidden face and the body had been mutilated nearly beyond recognition.

But Elen knew who it was. Even if she hadn't seen the Wildlings ravaging her village she'd have known. She recognized the tattered remnants of clothing that still clung to the body.

It was what her mother had been wearing when she'd sent Elen out to look for late season roots, plants and herbs in the woods beyond their village.

Not far away she could see the crumpled form of her father, arrows sticking from his back as he lay unmoving in the dirt. All around her the people of her village lay still and cooling in the late autumn air. A few flies buzzed around the bodies, braving the cold for a chance to gorge on the blood clotting on the semi-frozen ground. The air stank of death and Elen's gorge rose, coking her even as her grief did.

There was nothing left. It was all gone. Her home. Her friends. Her family—

But then she caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye. Her nerves were so on edge that at the sight of the huddled form moving beside the overturned wagon a shriek ripped from her already raw throat.

But her heart recognized what she saw before her mind did. Before she could even think to react, she was running forward, her basket tumbling from her arms just in time for her to gather her little brother into them.

Olly had survived.

She wasn't wholly alone. She wouldn't have to face the coming winter alone, now.

Chapter Text

A Game of Thrones Fanfiction

***

Summary

One evening before retiring, Ned Stark watches a very young Jon and Robb asleep together, musing on how hard it will be to keep the secret of Jon's true heritage from him, and the necessity of doing so.

***

A companion of sorts to my previous asoiaf one-shot, The Scent of Winter Roses. Naturally, centred around the once assumed, now confirmed theory that Lyanna is Jon's mother. Additionally, I may do a Rhaegar-centred fic too. I just need the inspiration to come :P

***

Excerpt

Nothing yet, lovelies.

Chapter Text

A Game of Thrones Fanfiction

***

Summary

Tywin Lannister is a practical man. When his preferred heir vows himself to the Kingsguard, he refused to settle for Tyrion as Jaime's replacement. So he does what few thought he'd ever agree to do: he remarries. 

Lenore has a tough road ahead of her. Carving out a place for herself at Casterly Rock will not be easy, not when she lives in the shadow of Tywin's lost love and his dazzling daughter. 

But find her place she must, and in doing so, she just may find a place for herself in Tywin's heart.

***

Why does this keep happening to me...here we go. Another idea. And don't ask me where this one came from. I have no idea. We'll see when (and if) this one takes off. Not sure yet which series it'll be based off of, books or show, but we'll see. I just need to figure out house and some more background first, I believe...and, you know...find some time....

***

Excerpt

Nothing substantial enough to share yet, I'm afraid....

Chapter Text

A Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire Fanfiction

***

Summary

With flowing pale hair and pale grey eyes that could almost pass for lavender, Alys' mistress bought her bond as a child thinking a girl with a Targaryen look and all the musical skill the Last Dragon Rhaegar was said to possess would be a valuable addition to her establishment. 

But it was that musical skill alone that saved Alys from a Flea Bottom whorehouse when a tragic accident left her face scarred and her 'undesirable'. It was her musical skill that let her earn her keep in one of King's Landing's most elite pleasure houses. 

And it was her musical skill that drew the attention of a young member of the Kingsguard.

Attention that would change her life forever.

***

Here we go...more ideas for a fandom I never planned on writing much of anything in....

Okay, gist of this one: Alys was sold as a child to a high-end brothel in King's Landing with the intent that she would one day work there thanks to her Targaryen look (likely b/c her mother was one of Aerys' many mistresses....make from that what you will), but an accident leaves her scarred and not 'pretty' enough. It's only thanks to her musical skill that the establishment's owners decide to keep her instead of pawning her off elsewhere.

Cue the romantic interest and relationship that develops underlaying the chaos that the events of the series fosters. Undecided on precisely who yet, since I have potential scenarios that work for both Oberyn and Jaime. However, I'm leaning to Jaime, atm, hence why the entry title reflects that....

***

Excerpt

The room stank of sharp incense and bitter sweat, earthy musk and the particular pungency of sex. But Lys was long since used to it. Her head fell forward, her eyes half-lidded as she let their focus ebb in favour of the feel of the supple lute strings beneath her slender fingers and the sound of its melodic tones in her ears.

It was easy to lose herself to her music despite the shrill, tinkling laughter of the girls and barking guffaws of the men come in search of their services.

She forced back a sigh, dipping her head once more so that her pale hair fell like a soft curtain to hide her disfigurement. She was fortunate and she knew it. While the scar that cut across the outer edge of her left eye, puckering the skin and dragging her lid down with it, made her too distasteful to 'properly' serve the brothel that she had been indentured to, neither had she been traded off to a poorer one where her disfigurement would raise no objection. Her skill at coaxing music from whichever instrument was placed in her hands saw to that. She had still retained value even if her physical beauty was now marred. And because of that, she had been spared from being cast out onto the street or worse. Lord Baelish and the Madam that oversaw the establishment in his stead both claimed that, when she played, the men that passed the threshold tended to let their gold flow more freely. That her music lulled them and softened them to the girls' trade, making them eager and uninhibited.

Or moreso, at least, than they had already been inclined to be, given that they would not have ventured inside had they not already been in search of willing flesh.

Chapter Text

A Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire Fanfiction

***

Summary

It was at Harrenhall, all of Westeros said, that the seeds had been sown for all that was to come. It was at Harrenhall where the Dragon Prince had crowned Winterfell's daughter the Queen of Love and Beauty, slighting his Dornish Princess and shocking the kingdom.

That it was at Harrenhall where Lyanna Stark caught the eye of Rhaegar Targaryen

But what the kingdom did not know, was that it was at Harrenhall where Lyanna Stark met Elia Martell.

That it was at Elia's behest that Rhaegar offered the crown of winter roses to Lyanna.

And that it was at Elia's word that Lyanna ran. 

***

This one may be another One-Shot, or it may evolve into an AU. I don't know. We'll see how it goes once I get it written. 

Regardless, it will be centre on Lyanna, Rhaegar and Elia....with the slight twist that it wasn't just Rhaegar Lyanna fell in love with and ran away to be with, but Elia as well. After all, just because canon says she was fragile and sweet doesn't mean she wasn't a daughter of Dorne, through and through. 

***

Excerpt

The landscape trundled by, grey-green hills and unremarkable villages made of unremarkable wattle and daub structures passing by at a pace that made her want to tear our her hair and scream.

How she longed to be on her lively palfrey, flying by the sights dragging past the slatted window of the Wheelhouse the quick-footed creature.

But instead, she was secreted away, hidden amid plush cushions and rich hangings, breathing in the stifled air and feeling a tense buzz growing more persistent in her limbs from sitting idle for so long.

But she couldn't complain. She kept her mouth stubbornly shut even if she couldn't hide the scowling moue that twisted her lips or the irritable way her fingers knotted and tugged at first the fabric of her skirts then the cushion in her lap then the hanging flapping against her arm. She had chosen this after all.

Or rather, she had accepted the offer as it was given.

Chapter Text

A Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire Fanfiction

***

Summary

Though it had been a near thing indeed, by the will of the gods, Lyanna Stark survived bringing her son Jaehaerys into the world.

Only to learn that the family she had chosen, the man and woman both that she had grown to love, had been brutally cut down and slaughtered by a man claiming to have done it in her honour.

But Robert Baratheon had forgotten that Lyanna was every bit a wolf as the sigil of House Stark proclaimed, and he was responsible for destroying her pack.

And so she swore vengeance.

Because the North Remembers, and Lyanna will never forget.

***

Again, this one may end up as a One-Shot, or it may grow into a multi-chpater fic. I haven't decided yet. It's another instance of 'we'll see' but it's looking likely.

The summary pretty much says it all, though. How it's going to play out, whether it'll take place immediately after Robert's Rebellion or whether Lyanna will bide her time, is also undecided at this point.

Oh, and my brain has decided that Oberyn's going to play a fairly significant role....and ultimately pair with Lyanna. So yeah. CX 

***

Excerpt

"He's your boy," Maege stated definitively, waving off the sudden panic in Lyanna's wide eyes. "One mother can usually tell another. And a woman in my position can't afford not to use my eyes. I can see it in the way you watch him. He's certainly not Brandon's bastard nor Ned's, no matter what your Lord brother would have us all believe."

"Is it that plain," Lyanna rasped out, a lump of fear threatening to strangle her. Maege shot her a sympathetic look.

"Men are idiots," she dismissed, taking a drink, "and most are blind to things right in front of their faces. Especially when it comes to women and to the secrets of motherhood," she said with a pointed look. "Besides," the older woman added with a shrug, "Lord Stark told them the boy is his by-blow. They won't even think to question it." Lyanna couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief.

Chapter Text

A Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire Fanfiction

***

Summary

Vara Sand has a secret. A secret her mother Ashara had been reluctant to share.

Ashara was not her mother. Brandon Stark not her father. 

 Nor was Vara her true name.

Her name was Visenya. 

And she was going North to Winterfell. To reunite with the twin she'd never known she had.

Jon Snow.

Jaehaerys Targaryen.

***

Yet another of those 'One-shot or more than a One-Shot' ideas. I could see it going both ways.

Not quite sure where this idea came from, but here it is. And it just won't leave me alone. Premise centres on the idea that Lyanna died giving birth to two babies, a boy and a girl, and that while Ned took Jon North and passed him off as his bastard, Ashara Dayne took Vara South and passed her off as hers. And upon discovering her heritage and the existence (maybe? I'm still debating on whether or not she knew about Jon to some degree) and whereabouts of her twin, Vara (and Ashara?) go North.

Probably in time to encounter Robert and Co. at Winterfell. >:) 

***

Excerpt

"Ashara Dayne," the Queen said silkily with a perfectly composed air of surprise, "you haven't been seen beyond the walls of Starfall in so long, many had begun to wonder if you were still with us. What a comfort to know the fanciful stories to that effect were indeed just fanciful tales." Ashara's lips thinned but her graceful nod of acknowledgement was gracious all the same. Vara couldn't help but scowl, momentarily drawing the Queen's eye. 

But Cersei simply raised a disdainful brow, flicking a briefly assessing look over Vara before dismissing her just as quickly without so much as a word.

Chapter Text

A Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire Fanfiction

***

Summary

Rhaenys Targaryen remembered very little of her life before. Not as much as Viserys remembered, but certainly more than Daenerys did. She remembered her parents, and her gentle grandmother and cruel grandfather, but she barely remembered Westeros. She could hardly remember the Red Keep or Dragonstone. It all felt like a dream, one that, like sand, slipped through her fingers a little more with each passing year. 

But like her cousins, a fire burned in her breast for home. For her birthright. A fire that would temper Rhaenys and sustain her through hardship and pain. 

And together with Daenerys, she intended to embrace the dragon she was.

To take back the Iron Throne with Fire and Blood.

A story where it's not Aegon, son of Rhaegar, who survived the Sack of King's Landing, but his sister, Rhaenys.

***

Yup. Another idea. I know, I'm crazy. Nothing new there. This one will likely be show-verse with a couple of book-verse (i.e. one of Rhaegar and Elia's children being secretly saved) ideas added in. 

This one will centre on the idea that, instead of Aegon being the one Varys and his little birds managed to secret away, it was Rhaenys. That she was sent to safety with Rhaella and young Viserys to Dragonstone and then on to the Free Cities with Viserys and baby Daenerys.

And from there, it will follow Rhaenys teaming up with Dany through the course of the series, enduring an ill-fated marriage to Viserys' while Dany was sold to Khal Drogo and onward in their journey to retake the Iron Throne.

Oh, and likely to be Jaime/Rhaenys.

;)

***

Excerpt

"Dragon's eggs, from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai," the Magister explained with an air of affected awe, "The eons have turned them to stone, yet still they burn bright with beauty." He sketched a short bow to each of the three Targaryens. "And so I present them to you, in honour of your marriages. It is fate indeed, for there to be three eggs for the last three Dragons." Rhaenys met her Aunt's eye, only barely able to keep from hissing in pain at her new uncle-husband's suddenly painful grip on her arm.

They'd both seen how Viserys' eyes gleamed in his thin face.

And it frightened both of them.  

Chapter Text

A Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire Fanfiction

***

Summary

tbw

***

As you may be able to tell, I've been a little hooked on Jaime recently....especially in anticipation of Jaime reaching Winterfell in the final season of GoT. And on top of reawakening my interest in the idea of a Jaime/Dany pairing, it's reawoken my interest in the idea of a Sansa/Jaime one as well. Especially the idea of the 'Sansa married to Jaime instead of Tyrion' trope. So naturally, my brain decided to come up with its own take.

How will it be different? It won't go that wildly AU as most stories using that trope seem too (which is usually awesome, but I digress). Instead, it'll mostly follow canon trajectories....with a couple key differences. 

Like Sansa being married to Jaime instead of Tyrion and, on the road to the Vale, discovering she's newly pregnant with Jaime's baby. Oh, and Shae going with her instead of being pulled into Tyrion's trial.

And considering all the awesomeness that is Jaime going North in the Season 7 finale and his arrival in Season 8?

Yeah, it's going to be fun. 

May be a short fic. May be a long one. No idea just yet. We're still mulling over details. It will probably start during approx. Season 7 or 8 instead of all the way back at their wedding though, with the potential for call backs or maybe even full-fledged flashbacks. I haven't decided yet. We'll see.

Stay tuned!

***

Prologue

Sansa had long since learned to keep her features smooth and unaffected by whatever chaotic emotions were tearing her apart inside.

King's Landing had seen to that. Queen Cersei and her monster of a son had seen to that. Everything she'd lost had seen to it. Having her dreams and her childhood shattered and ground into the shit-lined streets of that horrible city had made sure of it.

The Eyrie too had seen to it. Her Aunt's attempt on her life and Lord Baelish's lessons and attentions had tempered her control. Had tempered her resolve.

She could appear as cool as the winter snow and as keen as the ice her house's Valyrian blade had once been named for.

Even if inside she still felt like little more than a quivering, terrified little girl.

She drew in a long, controlled breath, letting the frigid air eddying along the battlements of her ancestral home cut deep into her lungs, bracing her, grounding her.

Winterfell was hers, she reminded herself. She was home and her home was hers.

The cancer that was the Boltons had been ruthlessly and completely cut out.

She was the Lady of Winterfell, now.

She was...free. Free to do as she willed, now. And no one could tell her otherwise. Not Lord Baelish, not even Jon, King in the North though he'd been declared. No one.

She answered to herself, now.

It helped.

Tully-blue eyes scanned the expanse before the walls of Winterfell. It hadn't been all that long before that the pristine blanket of white that encircled the ancient castle had been marred and torn by blood and mud and death, churned into an ugly quagmire of trampled earth, spoiled slush and the mutilated bodies of men and horses. But even if the evidence of the bloody, desperate battle hadn't been cleared away, the winter snows would've long since covered it the way it had covered the rents and gouges in the ground that couldn't be cleared the way bodies and broken shields could be.

Even the evidence of Jon's departure for Dragonstone and Bran's unexpected arrival had been erased by the heavy winter snows, closing off Winterfell from the rest of the world in appearance if not entirely in truth.

It echoed the façade she was endeavoring to maintain despite her inner turmoil. Apart. Separate. Untouched.

She drew in another breath and let it free, her exhale freezing in a shimmering, cloudy mist for a heartbeat before her face before the biting wind whisked it away.

Only to stiffen as, between one blink and the next, a dark shape came into view on the road that broke the forbidding expanse of cold and white that guarded her home. She forced herself to stand her ground. People and wagons had been trickling in and out of the castle for weeks, now that there was a Stark back in Winterfell and a King in the North again. Winter was coming and there was a great deal to do. She knew better than to get her hopes up.

Until the dark shape resolved itself into the recognizable forms of a cart drawn by a sturdy northern horse and scattering of warmly bundled figures that walked along with it. Until it came close enough to see the smaller figure huddled next to the cart's driver.

Her breath caught and her pulse thundered in her ears.

And she just knew.

Before the thought had even entered into her head, she was walking briskly along the battlements to the castle and all but flying down the stairs to the entrance courtyard as quickly as her carefully fashioned composure allowed.

She paid little heed to the others milling about, passing her in the corridor or stepping out of her way as she stepped briskly back out into the cold. She glimpsed the trace of a curious, displeased frown pinching Lord Baelish's brow even as he watched her enter the courtyard with his usual mild, intrigued smirk fixed on his narrow features.

In that moment she could care less.

She was the Lady of Winterfell by blood, her rightful claim enforced by Jon's decree. He was free to disapprove all he liked. She was not the stupid little girl she had been.

She cared only for the figures one of Vale men-at-arms was helping climb down from the cart.

Sansa's breath gusted from her lungs as Shae straightened, her lips pinched in displeasure at the penetrating cold and the snow clinging to her thick cloak. But even as her former handmaid's dark gaze found her, a bright smile coming to her pretty face, it wasn't her that had Sansa's chest tightening painfully and relieved tears pricking at her eyes.

It was the little boy she held bundled securely in her arms, his little hooded head peaking out from the Lorathi woman's cloak where she had it wrapped tightly around them both. The little boy who looked nervously in her direction with large emerald green eyes as Shae's head dipped close to his, whispering words to him that Sansa couldn't hear as she pointed in her direction.

Sansa didn't hesitate. She darted forward almost the moment she picked out Shae among the new arrivals, her own thick cloak billowing around her as she briskly crossed the courtyard, heedless of the slush muddying the hems of her dress.

She didn't stop until he was gathered safely in her arms, his little hands clutching at the fur of her cloak as she clung to him, breathing in the scent of his hair, not even caring that it was tainted by the familiar bitter tang of the dye she'd long since stopped using on her own copper locks.

Nor could she stop the steady, whispering stream of nonsense spilling from her lips as she wrapped her own cloak around his small form, enclosing the little boy as though she could hide him away from the harsh realities of world. She simply didn't care.

He was in her arms again.

Her son had come home.

Chapter Text

A Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire Fanfiction

***

Summary

tbw

***

Another plunny attacked me....

Because Time Travel Fix-Its are just too much fun, and apparently by brain wants to give it a shot. So here we are: a story where the Battle for the Dawn goes terribly wrong and the last few survivors make a desperate play in their final moments, appealing to the Old Gods to give them another chance with an offering of the last of their life's blood.

Sounds fun, right? Right?!

Primary pairing will of course be Jaime/Sansa. Rest are undecided.

***

Prologue

Sansa was not too proud to admit that Arya was likely even more skilled than she was at keeping the truth of her thoughts and feelings behind whatever expression she chose to wear on her features. But sometimes, though it happened rarely, she did slip.

And just then, beneath the ancient Heart Tree of Winterfell, Arya was slipping.

There was a bleak quality to her meticulously-crafted enigmatic expression as Sansa levelly met her sister's eye. As she'd approached the gnarled roots of the weirwood, with no more than a glance Arya had seen almost immediately what Sansa already knew.

The wound she'd taken in the Crypts despite Tyrion's valiant sacrifice was a mortal one.

Already, her strength was draining away with her life's blood, soaking the skirts of her dark gown and melting the snow beneath her to stain the weirwood's white bark the same vibrant red as her Tully-red hair where she sat against the massive trunk.

She knew it wouldn't be much longer.

Yet still she clung to the hand in hers as she hummed, the soft tune filling the eerie stillness. Deep as they were in the Godswood, the final, futile moments of their desperate last stand against the dead couldn't be heard.

Save the distant, ominous sound of the dead working to break down the thick doors that lay between them.

Slumped at her husband's feet against the massive root she distantly remembered her father often sitting on, Gendry lifted his head from his hands, his dark blue eyes dulled with shock and sorrow. He barely reacted to Arya's sudden, silent arrival, staring up at her, uncomprehending.

Until he did.

They'd lost.

The grave, defeated look in Jon's eyes as he collapsed next to Sansa, leaning heavily against her as the last of his strength left him too only confirmed it.

The last Baratheon's head fell back into his hands.

Looking down to her husband where his head cradled in her lap, Sansa continued to comb her numb fingers comfortingly through his hair. Absently she marveled at how, even despite the sweat, grime and blood matting the strands, the guttering firelight still managed to catch on a few stubborn glints of gold.

It was an odd thought to fixate on.

But it was better than lingering on the gruesome wound from the ice-sword that had torn through his breastplate into his belly. Or on the smear of blood painting the weirwood roots nearby where Theon had succumbed to his own wounds; the dying fire of the makeshift pyre Davos, Sandor and Tormund had made for him was losing its fight against the cold.

It wouldn't be long before it died too.

"When I figured I would go first from the comfort of your arms, little wife, this was not quite what I envisioned." She couldn't quite catch her breath enough to laugh, but her chest tightened in a ghost of the sensation, and she couldn't help the small smile that curved her lips.

Even dying, her indomitably brazen knight couldn't keep his tongue in check.

But there was a weariness to Jaime's wavering voice and a grim light in his emerald eyes, dulled though they were by the same haunted resignation she was sure he saw in her own. His skin was cold beneath her fingers in a way that had little to do with the soul-penetrating cold, and had slipped far past pale into the pallor of imminent death. Dimly, she felt the burn of a single tear slice down her cheek, impossibly hot for the briefest of moments before it too froze.

Part of her wanted to sob and scream with grief just as she once had when her father's head had been parted from his shoulders. Watching Jaime slip away before her eyes, helpless to do aught but sit with him, ripped a chasm into her soul much as her father's execution had.

But she didn't have the strength left.

Nor, truthfully, the will.

Because another part of her felt only relief.

She doubted she'd be more than a few laboured breaths behind him.

There was a surprising amount of peace to that realization.

She was so tired.

She squeezed his hand as best she was able.

"I know, Jaime," she whispered, unable to draw breath or will enough to say more. There was nothing else to say, while at the same time there was far too much.

But the corners of his eyes crinkled, his lip quirking in the ghost of a smirk as she started to hum once more, her hand steady as she smoothed her fingers through his hair. "I like when you sing," he murmured, his focus beginning to waver and slip.

How she wished she still had the strength to.

Next to her, Jon sighed heavily. It took a monumental effort for Sansa to look to her brother in all but blood. His dark eyes were despondent as he met hers and Bran's where he sat staring sightlessly up at the weeping face of the Heart Tree before looking to Arya where she'd sunk down next to Gendry and finally back to Sansa before they slid away, sightless with anguish and grief.

"I thought we had a chance," he rasped.

"No, we didn't."

One by one, they all looked up at the unsettlingly calm, emotionless correction. Even Jaime managed to twist, peering blearily up at the blank-faced Stark. "We lost a long time ago."

"The fuck is that supposed to mean," Sandor growled, his scars twisting as he scowled, his temper visibly rising. Arya exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Sansa, her expression swiftly turning wary as they both caught the bewildered expression on Jon's face turning swiftly to one of betrayal.

Bran finally looked away from the weirwood face, sparing a glance at all of them. "This was the way it had to be."

Davos was the first to break the eerie silence.

"What are you saying," he demanded, his Flea Bottom brogue thickening, "that it was all for nothing? Everyone we—everyone we lost..."

With a choking howl, Jon lurched to his feet, rounding on Bran. "We could've evacuated, tried something else—instead we—we..." his voice broke. But Bran just looked placidly up at him.

"Everything happened the way it had to."

"No more riddles, Bran. Please," Sansa murmured. Bran turned his unsettling gaze to her.

"Everything had to happen as it did to bring us here."

"Here," Arya repeated, her eyes narrowed and voice cool for its skepticism.

"Yes."

"Why," Sansa asked.

"So we can try again."

Even the distant sound of the dead working to break into the Godswood seemed to fall silent.

"A—again?" Jon's faltering voice sounded like a shout.

Chapter Text

An X-Men Fanfiction

***

Summary

Still working on it. ;)

***

So I went and saw Dark Phoenix. Enjoyed it. Then I felt like watching Apocalypse. 

Bad idea.

Now I have this lovely OC Plunny gnawing at my brain.

Okay, but here's the deal. We're going to be operating under the comic-canon/film-verse headcanon that Nightcrawler is Raven's child with Azazel (just because I want to play with the idea, so why not CX) and that she was in East Berlin to find him specifically, not just to break up a mutant fight club. This is where my lovely new OC will come in: no finalized name yet but Milo seems to be trying to stick in my head.... She'll be either another mutant fighter like Angel the club's ringleaders had, or possibly even a mutant they coerce/force to find other mutants (all depending on what her powers end up being, but the latter is looking more likely at this point) to put in their cage matches. She has a brief bonding moment with Kurt, leading him to insist they take her with when Raven busts him out, since he's such a pure, sweet soul. <3

Ultimately, the pairing will be her and Quicksilver, but naturally since she's jaded and scarred (mentally and emotionally....and possibly literally as well from her time with the Mutant fight club) she will butt heads with his lackadaisical attitude and sheltered upbringing, etc, etc at first before feelings develop. You get the drift. And later on, of course, some paternal Magneto for both her and Peter? Perhaps even some....'Opa' Magneto? ;D 

Oh, the potential for lovely fluff...... <3

Story will probably go from Apocalypse to the end of Dark Phoenix. Just because they both gave me all the ideas.... 

***

Excerpt

Milo staggered, terror clenching tight around her chest. So tight she couldn't breathe, each breath suddenly tearing from her chest in shallow, dragging gasps.

She needed to get away, she needed to escape. She needed to get out. Panic seared through her with each stumbling step back. She barely even registered knocking against another body, the solid frame tipping her off balance and causing her already shaking knees to give way beneath her. She crumpled, still trying to push herself back, away from the flashes and muted gunshots as memories of sharp cracks and the scent of freshly spilled blood invading her senses pressed in on her. Her chest heaved, cramping painfully as her vision began to spot as her panic, fear and lack of oxygen threatened to overwhelm her.

Only to gasp out a cry as a bone-numbing shock burned across the back of her ribs. She jumped, her vision blackening for a split-second as pain from the electric current jolted through her body. Wheezing, she hugged herself tight, the instinct to make herself as small a target as possible taking over.

The dim green light around her flared and flickered, the barely perceptible hum from walls imprisoning them buzzing and hissing in a discordant rhythm to the ragged breaths she fought to take. Distantly she heard the faint, wounded whimpers that stung at the back of her throat as gentle hands fluttered against her arms and back.

But she just flinched and hugged herself closer, curling tighter in on herself as she squeezed her eyes shut, pleas for it to stop, to let her go, not to hurt her falling in a jumbled whine from her lips, the German and English words blending together as her fingers dug through her curls and into her scalp, the heels of her hands pressing into her temples with enough force that they ached.

And then there were arms around her, wrapping securely around her huddled frame. She gasped out a frightened cry, struggling against the unexpected touch, phantom bruises from cruel, remembered hands and worn leather bands blooming and smarting across her arms and ribs as the bitter taste of copper coated her tongue.

But the arms didn't loosen. Nor did they squeeze harder. They just...held her almost...tenderly, tucking her tight against a firm chest and strong, steady heartbeat.

A steady heartbeat that seeped into her awareness like the warmth radiating from the body that held her close, soothing her, grounding her. Her ragged breaths slowly deepening, she burrowed desperately into the embrace, clutching at the smooth leather jacket and pressing her face into the soft, well-worn fabric of the shirt beneath, inhaling the unfamiliar but somehow soothing scent of its owner—masculine, but not overwhelmingly so, with a faint, almost citrus-like brisk tang that was nevertheless pleasant. And slowly, she began to relax, shaking as the adrenaline and fear that gripped her began to ebb. She suddenly felt unaccountably...safe. Sheltered.

And memory of her older brother's sheltering arms surfaced as the phantom pain of long healed strikes and bruises began to fade.

"How did you do that?" A distant, wary but curious feminine voice asked as she gradually came back to herself. The chest beneath her cheek hitched faintly in a partial shrug, the zipper from the jacket clothing it digging briefly into her cheek.

"Dunno. But my Mom used to do it when I was a kid anytime I freaked out the way she was. Something about instinct to mirror slow breaths or pulses or whatever. But it usually worked. Figured it was worth a try." The cheek pressed against the crown of her head shifted slightly in another aborted shrug—Peter, she realized with a start, her cheeks suddenly burning with shame and embarrassment and...relief. "It was either that or wait for her to pass out."

"Thank you," Milo murmured softly then, and against her, Peter drew back slightly to look down at her. Beside them, her hand tentatively coming to rest on Milo's back, Moira's head tilted in silent, sympathetic question while beyond her Raven and Hank shifted.

Automatically, Milo stiffened again at the realization that they were all watching her, but at the subtle tightening of Peter's arms around her she sucked in a calming breath, unconsciously letting the contact reassure her.

Chapter Text

An X-men Fanfiction

***

Summary

Still working on it. ;) 

***

My brain just doesn't know when to quit, it seems. 

The idea for the Quicksilver/OC story hit and I indulged in it, hoping I could get the immediate urge out of my system, right? Well, it sort of worked? But in the meantime, it seems my brain and my imagination have conspired against me....

It now wants to create an entire X-Verse series..... *facepalm*

This one will be - you guessed it - a Charles/OC fic.

Unsure of a whole lot of details, so far, but I know a bit. Unfortunately, most are technically spoilers so far. What I will share? Her name will likely be Erin, her ability will definitely involve force fields and there will probably be some surrogate family vibes between her, Charles and Jean just because. Oh, and some fun fluff and Awkward!Charles when Moira pops back into the story for Apocalypse. *snicker*

Will probably be post-70s-Days of Future Past  to the end of Dark Phoenix. 

***

Excerpt

"Remind me again why we're here?" Hank asked, frowning as he looked around the empty halls of the High School. Charles withheld an indulgent smile. He didn't have to be psychic to pick up that Hank was rather unwillingly revisiting his own high school experiences as he glanced around the stock lockered corridor. Unpleasant memories, judging by his body language alone, if Charles were to make an educated guess.

But he said nothing, knowing Hank well enough that to draw attention to his remembered discomfort would only make it worse.

"Recruiting," Charles repeated patiently. "Not only do I suspect there's a potential new student that could benefit from coming to the Mansion here, but if Dorothea's right, one of the teachers might be a good fit as well to come on as one of our teaching staff." Hank's frown shifted, his thinned lips relaxing from a pursed moue of discomfort to a drawn, questioning line.

"Theia's suggestion?" Charles nodded in response, straightening slightly and increasing his pace as he took note of the door opening up ahead, indicating that they were right on time. Hank lengthened his stride easily to keep up.

"Old classmate," Charles explained absently. "They both went to Brown—different programs, of course, but they...bonded over their shared differences." This time it was Hank nodding his understanding. Charles didn't need to elaborate. His meaning was clear.

This teacher was a mutant too.

It made for a perfect candidate, really.

"They kept in touch," Charles continued, smiling at a trio of students as they passed, the three youngsters eager to head home almost to the point of ignoring the gesture, "and have recently been discussing a student of this friend's who's showing signs of not just being gifted, but...impressively so." Once more, Charles' oblique implication was too pointed to be ignored. The child Theia and this friend had been discussing had the potential to be particularly powerful, and thus exactly the kind of student who would benefit most from Charles' school.

The last student darted out of the classroom, nearly tripping over Charles' chair. A brief murmured apology and the boy was skirting around the two Mutants and following his classmates down the hall. Charles smiled indulgently. He'd always found a degree of joy in youthful high spirits.

Not to mention, it was nice to see them in a child who, like them, would bear the weight of a world that was still struggling to accept them.

Beside him, Hank blinked, watching the boy as he skidded around a corner down the hall. "Was he—" he started with a frown as he followed Charles into the classroom. Charles looked over his shoulder at his friend, the corner of his lip quirking. He wasn't surprised Hank had noticed the peculiar speckling down the boy's arms; easy enough to explain away as mere freckles or even a birthmark, but to those who knew better...

"Yes," Charles answered patiently even as another, more suspicious voice echoed the confirmation. Charles faltered as he looked around to get his first good look at Dorothea's friend.

She was...frowning warily at the pair of them.

Straightening from her task of starting to gather up the chairs circling the centre of the room, she absently brushed dust from the front of her dove-grey vest and matching trousers before brushing back an errant strand of her long, dark—and faintly iridescent—hair.

Charles nearly jerked as Hank shifted behind him. Realizing he'd been staring, he discreetly cleared his throat and wheeled himself further into the room.

"Professor Charles Xavier," he offered as he drew close, extending his hand with a smile. At once her expression cleared, her eyes widening faintly with surprise and recognition. After a moment, she took it in a brief shake. "And my associate," he continued with a nod over his shoulder toward Hank, "Dr Hank McCoy."

"I—Dorothea told me about you," she said almost apologetically. Releasing his hand to shake Hank's briefly, she gestured off after her departed students. "Sorry, it's just...we try to keep it quiet that this group's actually for, well—"

"People like us," Charles said with a faint, understanding smile. A smile of her own curling her lips, she nodded.

"Exactly," she agreed softly.

Chapter Text

An X-men Fanfiction

***

Summary

Still working on it. ;)

***

Yet another entry.....this one a Havok/OC. No  finalized name yet, though I'm rather favouring Dawn or perhaps Lorraine, atm.

I'm also debating the idea of her being the sister of Logan's OC, Theia....we'll see about that one.

Gist that I've got so far will be that she was a post-First Class student, which is where she meets Alex. Lovely relationship stuff ensues before he gets shipped off to Vietnam and...you guessed it: still working on details. But she will be around during Apocalypse. 

Mostly because I want to play with a Mutant who can control plants/nature and Charles' 'favourite tree'. ;P

Yeah, I know I'm crazy, but the idea wouldn't leave me alone and there it is. A story idea grew from there.

Other than that, details are still being developed. 

Will probably be post-First Class  to the end of Apocalypse and possibly into Dark Phoenix.

Alternatively - additionally? - in working on one of the other stories in the series, I got on the idea of an OC reaching back to XM:FC that I kind of like. At first I was thinking that it would fit Theia, but it might also suit this OC. I still haven't decided yet.

The idea would be that she would be the youngest of Shaw's people, in a similar position to Erik's as a child - discovered very young and taken advantage of and manipulated - and obviously the story would go on from there. 

On a related but slightly separate note, I'm also debating bringing the tragically underused Riptide in on the series as a mentor to whichever of these two OCs I ultimately link with the Hellfire Club.....and possibly pairing him with Hank....I don't know, to me his calm confidence would just pair so nicely with Hank's insecurity and temper to my mind. *shrugs* 

We'll see. 

Also, tell me I'm crazy... I'm also considering making Scott Alex and Dawn/Lorraine's child instead of Alex's baby brother.....

Will probably be post-First Class  to the end of Apocalypse and possibly into Dark Phoenix.

***

Excerpt

Nothing I can share just yet.

Chapter Text

An X-men Fanfiction

***

Summary

Still working on it. ;)

***

Next addition to my (potential, but likely if we're being honest....) X-Verse series:

Since the Quicksilver/OC story hit and I started (unwillingly, dammit) musing on more and more OCs, the idea for this one struck and it just won't. Let. Go.

I usually don't like replacing canon characters, but this is an odd case? You see, we don't really know a *whole* lot about Peter's mom beyond that she had a relationship (obviously...) with Erik. So my brain decided it wanted to fill in the blanks...and expand...and play.

So here we are! A sort of canon/sort of OC take on Peter's mom, first name tbd. She'll fit in canon, sort of semi-replacing Peter's mom as we see her? It's hard to explain, tbh. What I have in mind will make more sense once it's written. Like with the others,  details are a little sparse but overarching story is roughly there. And again, most of what I have worked out is effectively spoilers. Ultimately, though, it'll involve a past relationship with each other, Erik leaving before Peter (and maybe Wanda?) are born, flashing through 70s Days of Future Past and Apocalypse events - including other relationships for each, like Erik/Magda and Ms Maximoff/Little Sister's Dad - before some manner of reunion happens and Erik and Ms. Maximoff reunite and ultimately get together for real?

And weirdly enough, in my head she also vaguely reminds me of Blake Lively a la 'Age of Adaline' (though brunette, come to think of it). Make of that what you will, but I think it's a safe bet to assume she'd be a good facecast.

I will probably keep Little Sister Maximoff and may include Wanda (that I haven't entirely decided, yet). Oh, and she'll likely be a mutant....just haven't decided on powers, yet. Unless extreme patience counts.... *snicker* Long story short, s till working on just what it'll be....though I'm currently leaning toward thermal-manipulation or something to do with manipulating frequencies....

Will probably be post-70s Days of Future Past  to the end of Dark Phoenix with some flashbacks-recollections to pre-First Class and onward?

***

Excerpt

Nothing sharable yet.

Chapter Text

An X-men Fanfiction

***

Summary

Still working on it. ;)

***

Not entirely sure about this one. If it happens, it'll likely just be a one-shot or mini-fic 'prequel' to the others in the series to set-up the comic-canon/movie-headcanon that Mystique+Azazel=Kurt. 

Obviously post-First Class but pre-Azazel's death. Duh. ;P

***

Excerpt

Since I'm not quite sure yet if it'll exactly happen as its own discrete story? Nada.

Chapter Text

An X-men Fanfiction

***

Summary

Still working on it. ;) 

***

And finally (I hope, but more likely 'for now.'..especially considering how my brain seems to like the idea of giving Storm an OC....and maybe Kurt and Hank each one too....*facepalm*) the Logan/OC story.

This one's actually a re-emerged/re-imagined idea from about a million years ago. In contemplating my Quicksilver/OC story, I contemplated appropriating this OC's powers for Peter's OC (since the idea's really cool, if I do say so myself), but it didn't quite fit her. Then my brain came up with this insistence on creating an X-verse story-verse and low and behold....Logan's Lady is back. *le sigh*

With some tweaks, of course. The original idea was to have her be Erik's kid? Not so much anymore, though I'm now weirdly contemplating a relative of Hank's. Maybe not sister, but perhaps cousin? We'll see. Either way, she's being updated and adapted to the Revised Timeline stories. Atm, it's looking like her name will be Dorothea or 'Theia' (a nickname, but also her codename, I'm thinking) but Logan will call her 'Dot'. <3

I'm also growing rather fond of making her the sister of Alex's OC...we'll see about that one.

Power? Still probably water-affinity - whether or not the water-whips will be kept is still up for debate, but the healing/youthening (I'm declaring it a word...) aspect will remain. I'm also considering a regeneration one, where she's capable of influencing regeneration in others? Less likely, but we'll see. Story? Post-First Class Student turned school nurse/doctor who sticks around after the students leave in the 70s part of Days of Future Past. Where she - you guessed it - meets Logan. ;) Story will progress, etc, etc. We'll see what happens.

And final point I should probably make that actually applies to this whole proposed Story-verse: the movie 'Logan' will not be canon in this series. Though I can recognize that it was insanely well done on a great many levels, I just cannot bring myself to like it - I personally thought the choice to make it R-rated ruined it. But that's beside the point, here. I'm also undecided about how canon Deadpool will be too.....

Anyway!

While I don't know what order things will be completed and posted (much less when....) but considering that this one will likely be the first chronologically - save parts of the Erik/OC one, of course - I've been devoting a bit more brainpower toward it than the others in the series atm. And naturally, the story is evolving. 

Keep in mind, nothing's wholly in stone, yet, but this is what I've got right now.

So I am also seriously considering that perhaps Dorothea's story should reach back to First Class. Namely, that she would be the youngest of Shaw's people, etc, etc. but obviously doesn't choose Erik's side at the end since she's going to be at the mansion for the events of XM:DoFP. From there, the story would likely remain mostly unchanged from my original plans. However, as you may have noticed on the page for the Havok/OC story, that arc has possibly shifted to her. Like I said there, I haven't 100% decided yet. Either way, I do think that Theia's going to be part of the events of XM:FC.

I've also been re-envisioning her powers. Instead of the water-affinity/manipulation, we're going with something a little more apropos to her name - Theia, which is the name of the Greek Goddess (also a Titaness) of Light, glittering things and sight. So her powers? Light. And probably still maintaining the regeneration aspect as well, so that, you know, she can pair a little better with the virtually unaging Logan ;)

Will probably be post-First Class/70s Days of Future Past on  to beyond Dark Phoenix...just so I can try and orchestrate my inner hopeless romantic's desire for a HEA.

***

Excerpt

"And who are you?" he asked bluntly, turning to Theia. She fixed him with a silently questioning look, but answered anyway, taking silent amusement at the way his eyes narrowed slightly in consideration.

"Dorothea Collins. I'm—I was the school nurse." Logan's head tilted, brow raising in faint skepticism. She couldn't help but bristle at the look.

"School nurse, huh? What're you doing here, then. Isn't kind of pointless to stick around with no students?" Her nose wrinkled with irritation.

"It's a free room," she countered coolly. "Besides, someone has to make sure these two remember to eat."

"Hey," Hank broke in indignantly while Charles snorted inelegantly. Theia just raised a challenging brow at the lanky doctor.

"You disagree, Henry?" she asked wryly. Logan frowned, looking between the two of them.

"Henry?" he questioned with poorly veiled amusement. Theia was severely tempted to roll her eyes, especially when Hank growled irritably.

Though whether it was aimed at her or the interloper, she wasn't entirely sure.

"Family privilege," she said with a smirk.

Chapter Text

A Star Trek Picard Fanfiction

***

Summary

Formal summary still to come.

***

Yet another Plunny ambush. Paint me not at all surprised. . . 

*le sigh* 

I honestly didn't even really plan to watch the newest season of Picard. . . but the fam was and I caught parts of it and boom. It happened. The plunny bit me and is refusing to let go.

So here we are.

Basic idea: for the sake of the story, I'll be adding in a couple years between the events of Star Trek Nemesis and the third season of Picard, which is when the bulk of this story will take place. And that story? Well, after the death of her younger brother Thad, Sarra Troi-Riker washes out of the Starfleet Academy thanks to her own emotional traumas and misplaced guilt and ultimately ends up on Betazed with her extended family. . . where she met Jack Canby, also known as Jack Crusher. 

And on we go from there. Make of that what you will. Maybe. It'll be interesting to see whether it goes they way any of you might envision. 

***

Coming. . . eventually. . . 

Chapter Text

A Superman Returns Fanfiction

***

Summary

Cassidy White wasn't like her charismatic big brother Richard. She was quiet. She faded into the background. She was...invisible.

Combine that with the eye for detail that made her such a good copy editor for the Daily Planet?

Well, it meant Cassidy noticed things. And one of those things?

A subtle but undeniable resemblance between one of the few coworkers who bothered to notice her and a certain red-caped superhero.

Superman-Clark Kent/OC, Lois Lane/Richard White, past-Superman/Lois Lane

***

Here we go again....

Alright, so here's the deal. Full disclosure, here. 

I'm not a huge DC fan. I've definitely never read any of the comics. I've seen most of the Batman films (BvS and Justice League excluded, though I have seen bits and pieces and know what all happened....and saw the Honest Trailers ;P), watched Suicide Squad, loved Jason Momoa and Temura Morrison in Aquaman even if I found the rest kinda meh and enjoyed the majority of Wonder Woman, but the only Superman movies - or TV shows, since I've seen none of the DC shows, either - I have seen in their entirety are Man of Steel (which I found kind of 'meh' as well tbh even if I can admit Henry Cavill was exceedingly well-cast) and Superman Returns. That said, I just love Superman Returns. I don't know. There's just something about it that I really like. The vibe, the look.... Brandon Routh as Superman.... ;P But really. I just love his take on Superman and especially his Clark. They're just perfectly how I envision them both, casual fan though I may be.

Well....rewatching it the other day after probably a couple years since the last time..... 

Let's just say it was a really bad idea.

Because this plunny rabidly attacked me. 

Okay. Breakdown: the idea is that Cassie is Richard White's little sister and also works at the Daily Planet, though as an unassuming copy editor. As the summary states, she tend  to fade into the background, mostly overlooked by those around her. Rather like our lovely bumbling, adorable and unassuming Clark. And naturally, since he'd such a sweetheart, he's one of the few who does seem to regularly notice that she exists, which doesn't help the feelings she found herself developing for him. Of course, because she so often gets overlooked, she tends to notice things about people....and (because it's one thing that always bugs me - because seriously, someone is bound to notice even if almost everyone else doesn't bother to look closely enough. I mean Richard almost does and Jason seems to almost get there in the movie, too) one of the things she puts together is the rather striking resemblance between Clark Kent and the Man of Steel. A secret she keeps to herself. Even from Clark. Especially since she's fully aware that he's head over heels for Lois.

Of course, then Superman/Clark disappears, Lois has Jason and falls for Richard, etc, etc, before eventually Superman/Clark comes back. And the events of the movie happen. Beyond that, I'm still working out details. 

Endgame, of course, will be Cassie and Clark, with Lois ending up with Richard. Because, weirdly, I kind of prefer them together, especially after SR. I just feel like, give how they're portrayed in SR, Clark and especially Lois have both genuinely moved on, even if they don't quite realize it, yet. They just need closure. So that's what we're going with for the sake of this story.

Oh, and (since it's pretty much the only full film I've seen) we're going with Superman Returns as the sole definitive canon source on this one. I'll probably pull some background and detail from what little comic and other film/TV show knowledge I do have (and probably a little wiki research) to flesh things out a bit, but since I haven't seen anything else and truthfully can't gather the motivation to change that, that's all I'm going to work with. So be warned. It's going to be totally AU.

***

Sneak Peek

"I don't care if he's not yours biologically," she hissed irritably, "he still calls you 'Daddy', doesn't he? That makes him your son and therefore my nephew. And you'll never convince me otherwise," she finished definitively. Richard's lips quirked into a fond, crooked smile. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"I always forget how fierce you can be, little sis'," he replied affectionately, his gratitude thick in his voice. She sniffed.

"Only for you, big brother," she waved off. "And maybe one or two others," she added absently. He looked down at her with a wry glance.

"Oh? Others?" he teased. "Anyone special I should know about?" Her chest felt tight as a particular sweet, blue-eyed gentle giant of a man flashed through her mind's eye. But she managed to roll her eyes, fixing her brother with a mirroring wry look.

"Does your son count?" He chuckled.

"He does," Richard smiled back. Only for the teasing light to come back. "And now that I think of it, you can be pretty fierce with Lois too." Cassie huffed.

He wasn't wrong.

She loved her almost-sister-in-law, but neither was about to deny that they could butt heads pretty spectacularly on occasion.

Usually about one very specific topic...

...not that Richard knew.

She and Lois were very careful about that.

Chapter Text

A Three Musketeers Fanfiction

***

Summary

 When Elise decided to let out part of her home to support her son, she did not expect to eventually call the three disgraced Musketeers who came to live with her friends. Neither did she expect to be pulled into their adventures when a young man named D'Artagnon came to Paris, bringing with him their chance for redemption.  Aramis/OC

***

You know the way your thoughts wander as you're laying there trying to fall asleep? Yeah....it's a dangerous time. But, it would seem I'm at my mind and my muse's mercy. And that I have an impulse control problem. Because this happened. And it won't go away... 

Send help! I can't be trusted with my own brain!

Okay, so I don't actually know where this one came from, it just sort of happened. It's based solely on the 2011 Three Musketeers movie (featuring Matthew MacFadyen, Orlando Bloom, Luke Evans, Logan Lerman, Christoph Waltz, and so on), though I may borrow the odd detail from the original novels courtesy of Wikipedia since I haven't actually read them myself. It really is rather a fun little movie, honestly, so long as you're going in expecting a corny fun bit of goofiness. I mean, it's got Orlando Bloom as a wonderfully over the top, campy villain, so what's not to love? XD

Okay, Story Break-down: I'm taking out James Corden's character (Planchet) - because that was one of the few parts of the movie I found truly annoying, especially how the Musketeers treat him - and replacing him with Elise (and her son Antoin), who will either be the Musketeers' Land Lady or Housekeeper - undecided there, but it's a minor detail, really.

Oh, and she's paired with Aramis....because I apparently have a bit of a thing for Luke Evans.....

:D

***

Excerpt

"Thank you, Ma'am," D'Artagnan said politely as Elise handed him a full cup of his own before smiling sheepishly up at her, "and, err, sorry." She frowned faintly at the apology, but he quickly elaborated. "About before, on the street. I pushed past you. Knocked you over."

"Ah," Elise said, understanding at once. "I didn't think you would have remembered me specifically." Around the table Aramis frowned and Porthos spluttered.

"Now see here, boy—" the larger Musketeer burst out, but Elise cut him off with a sharp glance before turning back to D'Artagnon. Despite their unfortunate encounter on the street, Elise had to admit she had already developed a bit of a soft spot for the boy. Antoin's regard for him had probably helped there.

"All is forgiven," she said, squeezing his shoulder gently as she stepped around his chair and headed back toward the hearth. "Youthful high spirits and all that." She grinned slyly toward Porthos as came to stand next to Aramis. "Not that some ever grow out of them." Behind her Porthos once again spluttered indignantly. Aramis caught her eye at that, laughter dancing in his dark eyes as he did.

"Well, she certainly knows you," Aramis said dryly to Porthos, though his gaze never left Elise. Elise raised her brows at the former priest.

"Is that so, Monsieur 'I'm going to join my friends in a street brawl with forty of the Cardinal's guards?'" she quipped back just as dryly. Porthos barked out a loud laugh, drowning out D'Artagnan's stifled chortle. Aramis just blinked, unsure whether to laugh himself or fix Elise with an indignant glare of his own.

Instead he just subtly raised his cup to her, his gaze decidedly warm on hers. Elise grinned, ignoring the flush trying to rise to her cheeks.

Chapter Text

A Gargoyles Fanfiction

***

Summary

tbw

***

I really need to  stop letting myself watch marvellous things that I know will more than likely spawn a rabid plunny.....

Yeah..... Nostalgia beckoned and I gave into the urge to watch one of the greatest animated TV Shows of all time: Gargoyles.

I'm sure you can guess what happened.....

So, on arriving in Avalon with Elise and Bronx, Goliath discovers yet another figure from his past survived alongside the Princess, Tom, the Magus and his Clan's children.

And, of course, adventures and love-times proceed from there. ;)

***

Excerpt

"Why did you leave?" he asked, his deep voice tight. "Without word, without explanation. You left. You left your friends, your family—your Clan!" Her sharp, bitter laugh startled him.

"Family? My Clan? My Clan were the ones who wanted me gone."

"No," he objected with a slashing gesture, "no. We grieved your loss." He stepped forward, grasping her shoulders, trying to meet her eye. "I—I grieved when you left."

"I wish I could believe that," she countered, shrugging free from his grip. Her eyes glinted with resentment and something else he couldn't place. "You were one of the only of our Clan who never once looked at me with pity or contempt. And once I thought—" Only for her expression to harden. "I hoped that if anyone would speak for me, it would be you. Yet you did not care enough to even bear witness when I was cast out from the only home, the only family I'd known."

"What? I do not understand." Goliath fought back a growl of frustration. "Cast out? What are you talking about?" Her expression darkened.

"I was cast out because I was less!" she hissed. "Banished. And you did nothing to stop it." He recoiled at the venom in her voice.

"No," he breathed, a horrible truth dawning on him, fury beginning to build within him. Betrayal. Betrayal and grief. That was what he saw in her eyes. "The Clan would never turn on one of our own. For what possible reason—"

"For being a burden to the Clan," she spat, her tail lashing behind her, punctuating her anger. "Of what use is a gargoyle with no wings." His expression darkened in kind, a growl rumbling from his deep in his chest.

"Who told you this?"

Her eyes narrowed.

"You never could see her cruelty, her disdain for those who were less in her eyes. Not toward the humans, nor toward me." He knew then.

Demona.

"You have no idea how much it hurt me to see you love her," she whispered, turning away from him.

Chapter Text

A Raya and the Last Dragon Fanfiction

***

Summary

Working on it.

***

Yup. I have a problem. I know this. 

In my not weird at all and I don't feel shame for it stanning for Chief Benja, yet another plunny struck: wondering about Raya's mom and an intriguing little what if....

And, well, here we are. 

***

Excerpt

"Osa, what are you doing?" Suan hissed. A sharp breath caught in Osa's throat and she buried her face in her hands, her shoulders curling in as she sagged in on herself.

"I don't know," she whispered, panicked.

Panicked because a small, frightened part of her did know.

She was falling in love with Benja.

"You know what will happen if we fail," her brother said gently, but there was no masking the tense edge to his voice.

"I know," she answered dully. And Osa did know. 

Chapter Text

A Stargate SG-1 Fanfiction

***

Summary

(nothing concrete yet)

***

In the last few days, the fam decided they wanted to make their way through Stargate SG-1 again. And since they were holding me prisoner with puzzles....I ended up watching the early episodes along with them while I worked and what do you know? It reignited my interest in this story. 

It's a High School one that I'm likely going to completely revamp and reimagine, but the bare bones will likely remain the same: after their run-in with the za'tarc detector in Divide and Conquer (S04E05) Sam and Jack act on their feelings (to which end, I'd (hand-)written a small one-shot that I now need to locate - before my days of actually going so far as to write actual smut - that will likely end up becoming the basis for my prologue) and it results in a little girl named Miranda. 

Now, looking back at what I'd written back when I first started this story in H/S, it desperately needs to be revamped. Just how much of a revamp remains to be seen, but in the original incarnation, the bulk of the story was set to take place once Miranda - or Andy - had grown up enough to join the Stargate program. . .and of course, trouble would ensue, of both the family drama and save the world varieties. 

Now, though, I'm thinking it might be much more fun to keep the bulk of the focus on little Andy's childhood and how her existence would affect the events of the show. 

The idea has also begun percolating that, instead of a Jack/Sam story (no matter that its pretty much my serious OTP of any fandom, which is saying something....) we might make it a Jack/OC story instead.... It is my thing, after all, and it would make a little more sense, in some regards. I mean, no matter if they managed to not have a 'relationship' while agreeing to co-parent in some capacity, one of my issues with making this story work is that I just can't quite see  both  Sam and Jack agreeing to some of the missions in the show  and risking  both of them getting killed  if there was a baby/child waiting at home, you know? No matter how much the SG Program meant to both of them, I just can't see them risking leaving Andy alone.

So there's that to consider, too.

We'll see. It will most likely end up being Jack+Sam=Andy, or it might be Jack+OC=Andy with the ultimate pairing being Jack/Sam. Or the Jack/Sam might disappear altogether.... Who knows. I think serious writing will have to commence first. *shrugs*

Regardless, I anticipate lots of angst, sweetness and fluff. Because it's me. And I seem to do that a lot....

***

Excerpt

"We don't have to do this, Cater. We can find another way. It—it can be you who takes her, instead of me."

"No, Si—Jack." "This—this is the way it has to be. I know I'm not ready to be a mom, yet. I know this. Yet, holding her..."

"I know."

"I don't know if you do. Holding her? I—I want to keep her. Desperately. But at the same time....holding her like this, it also feels like...like we're making the right choice. Like I'm making the right choice. And that—that conflict of emotion is killing me."

And as she tenderly, reluctantly, passed the tiny newborn into Jack's arms, there was no question she was only barely keeping a sob at bay. As Jack straightened, the first of her tears spilled over. God, it broke his heart seeing her like this. It felt like a knife twisting in his chest.

"Carter—Sam," he murmured, settling on the edge of the bed. "I'm not going to cut you out of her life." She flinched as he reached out a hand to her, but Jack pressed on, gently turning her face to meet his eye. "She's still going to know you."

Slowly, Sam shook her head, her grief and pain plain on her face.

"It's not going to be the same, Jack," she whispered, her voice shaking with a surprised sob. And his gut twisted, quivering at the sight, the sound, of her heart breaking. And something deep down urging him to reconsider...but he pushed it aside.

They'd made this decision for a reason. It was their best option. Their only option if they wanted to keep the precious baby girl squirming in his arms in their lives. Jack inhaled a slow, bracing breath as he looked down to their newborn daughter.

"I know," he whispered. "And I'm...I'm sorry. I wish..." But he couldn't say it. He couldn't voice it. To voice it was to make the wish real. To give it that much more power to hurt him. Them. Both of them.

"You wish what?" He looked up at Sam's plaintive, whispered question. But he didn't say anything. He couldn't. He couldn't even bring himself to finish the thought. And he saw the instant she knew. She sucked in a shaking breath, her jaw setting with resolve. And she reached out to brush her fingers against their daughter's cheek one final time.

But as he paused in the doorway, fighting and failing against looking back to take a final look at Sam where she was watching him walk away with her daughter in his arms, the wish completed itself, lodging deep beneath his breastbone next to the hollow, aching hole Charlie had left.

...that things could've been different.

Chapter Text

A Stargate: Atlantis Fanfiction

***

Summary

(summary still under construction)

***

Well, we're going to take a chance that, this time, by posting here that I won't kill what progress I've miraculously and unexpectedly been making since this persistent little idea began pestering me. . . 

Much like, well, any other fic idea that's come from a tv show, the fam started a rewatch of Atlantis and as seems inevitable, an OC and her accompanying plunny invited itself into my brain where it's been living rent-free ever since. 

And what's miraculous about it all?  I've actually been able to actually write for it. As of posting this? I've got almost 10k words written and, fingers-crossed, I can keep that momentum going. 

More, if I can manage that? Well, hopefully it'll translate into that momentum transferring to my other projects as well. I've had some brief progress on another story before this one monopolized my attention, so I'm cautiously optimistic.  

Anyway, back on topic: Gist for this one? 

Denaye is Genii. The Genii - especially Commander Acastus Kolya -  have a bit of a hate on for Major John Sheppard and the rest of the expedition from Atlantis. But, when she and John meet at a harvest market on another world? Before the Genii and Atlantis expedition meet during the events of Episode 1.08. That, and that she's Genii doesn't come up. Not until later, at least. Cue a bit of a star-crossed lovers thing. . .  ;) 

. . . pun not entirely intended. . . ;P

***

Excerpt

She should've expected it. Denaye knew how smart his companions were, had an idea of the types of technology at their disposal.

She knew how clever he was.

So she should've expected that they'd figure out her people’s secret.

And she certainly should've expected that John would confront her about it.

She nearly screamed as his hand closed around her upper arm and hauled her into a shadowed alcove. But the cry died instantly in her throat, the fist she'd instinctively raised in preparation to strike back at her attacker loosening when she turned to see him looming over her.

Her heart clenched, her throat threatening to close with guilt at the hard, calculating way he was looking down at her.

"You know, what with that harvest market being as much about learning more about potential allies and building ties of friendship and all, this might've been something you'd mention?" She drew in a shuddering breath, apprehensively meeting his eye.

"I know," she agreed softly, "I'm sorry, John. I know. I wanted to, but I couldn't." His eyes narrowed, but his firm grip on her arm loosened minutely, his gaze similarly softening in cautious consideration at her tone.

"Then why didn't you?"

Denaye’s breath hitched.

“I wanted to tell you," she whispered, her shoulders sagging. "I wish I could've, but. . ." She sighed, her chest feeling tight. "But it’s how we live, how we're raised to live, believing that our secrets are our best protection, the only thing keeping us safe, especially from the Wraith. It's. . . it's unspoken law.” She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. Inhaling a shaking breath, she looked back up at him. “Please, I know it's hard to understand-"

"No," he interrupted, his gaze distant. "No, I – I get it. Better than you might think."

Chapter Text

A Vikings Fanfiction

***

Summary

A young Englishwoman serving in King Ecbert's court has a chance encounter with a particular Priest. From that moment on, her life is never the same as he tells her everything she ever wanted to know about the Northmen, and leads her to a choice: stay in England as a serving maid, or leave with the Northmen to find her way as a Shieldmaiden. (Athelstan/OC or Rollo/OC or maybe even Bjorn/OC.)

***

Hey, we'll see where this one goes. I just started spontaneously writing it one day, and already have most of it planned out in my head. Will likely be a short one. NOW ON HOLD! With the events in Seasons 3 and 4 messing with my muse on this one, I need to reconcile things that happened with the story in my head...

So thins one's likely a long, long way off....

***

Opening Excerpt

The first time she saw him he seemed so quiet and unassuming in his monk's habit, his hair tied neatly back. He didn't see her. She thought little of it then beyond a passing curiousity. What was a man who looked a monk but didn't doing in King Ecbert's court? It was a mystery, but she had duties to attend to. So she pushed thought of the Monk-but-not aside and continued on with her work.

The next time he was not so unassuming. There was a quiet power to him; an assurance and strength in his stance that she could only guess at its origin.

It began as a common enough situation for her. She was a mere servant of the Court, but she was pretty enough to look at, with her dark eyes and darker hair, and her figure was something men seemed to find appealing, for hardly a week went by without some noble or soldier or other, higher-ranking man trying to take advantage of her or sweet talk their way beneath her skirts. It was common enough. All the young female servants dealt with it regularly, whether they were pretty or not. This time, though, the noble, or whoever he was, was far more insistent than she was accustomed to. To the others, it was a game, one that they absently or halfheartedly played for distraction. If they succeeded in their seduction, all the better, but many shrugged off rejection as through it were nothing and would move on to the next girl.

This one was rough, grabbing her arm, causing her to drop the basket of linens she was carrying, the soft white fabric billowing across the cold stone floor. She could feel her anger building within her, her body beginning to quiver with aggression and desperation. She knew the look on his face; he did not like being refused. Well, he was about to learn that she fought back.

But then he appeared. The Monk laid a hand on the noble's arm, his knowing blue gaze fixed upon her attacker. The nobleman took one look at the monk-but-not, his eyes taking in the simple habit and his un-priestlike hair in one appraising glance before recognition dawned. Scowling, he dropped her arm. He then stalked away, the set of his shoulders showing his irritation that his game had been spoiled.

The Monk turned to her then, and she had to suppress a shiver. There was something wild to this quiet man. There was also shadow of longing in his eyes as he took a deep breath, the tension flowing from his body. She realized with a start that part of this man had been yearning for a fight. That look had been one she had seen over and over again in the eyes of soldiers who'd had too much ale or nobles too much wine. But surely, as a man of the church, that couldn't be.

"Are you hurt?" His voice was as quiet and as unassuming as his appearance. She could only shake her head no. There would be vivid bruises on her arm tomorrow, but that was nothing compared to the injury she likely would have endured...especially if she had fought back.

He had helped her gather the linens without so much as another word, a faint smile on his lips when he nodded his head goodbye and continued on the way he had been going, his gait hitching every few steps, as though walking pained him.

"Thank you," she said after him, barely in control of her voice. She was still stunned by what had happened. But she was grateful; very grateful. She was strong for her size, thanks to the back-breaking work demanded of her, and fierce, as she had proven in fending off unwanted advances in the past, but she was still a just a serving woman. She was not like the ferocious North Women she had heard stories about; women who joined their men in battle, strong and capable as any warrior. "What's your name," she blurted out as he turned back to her for a moment, that small smile still on his face.

"Athelstan," he bowed his head ever so slightly, showing her a level of respect she rarely got.

"I'm Della," she blurted out in response. He smiled again, and turned away. This time she let him go without another outburst.

Chapter Text

An NCIS Fanfiction

***

Summary

Tony had long since figured that the likelihood of him ever meeting the person with a mark matching his on their ring finger was next to zil. So he was not expecting to meet her during a case. And he very much wasn’t expecting that she’d have a second mark intertwined with his: a mark matching the one on the finger of his boss. Soul marks. Poly-ship, not triad.

***

Full disclosure: I have absolutely no idea where in the hell this one came from. 

But I'm just there, rewatching NCIS like one does and *boom* I wake up one morning with several scenes and the beginnings of a fully developed plot and lore for a soulmark AU with a poly-pairing between our new OC and both Gibbs *and* Tony.

Like, wtaf. . . .

So, like genius me does given that I'm desperate to write *anything* right now, I succumb and add this absolutely bonkers but addicting plunny to my writing roster.

And here we are. Working on another WIP and making unsettlingly good progress for a short time. 

Uncertain yet if it's going to be one big story or one main story and a couple of spin-off mini-sequels that have since also spawned based around a couple of arcs that happen in the OG series after then the main story takes place. I'm kind of leaning toward the second, atm. That said, I still haven't quite decided where or even if I'm going to formally place it in the series timeline beyond a general season - as in, for the main body of the story, I'm not planning on working in actual cases as we see them in the show.

For the mini-sequels, however. . . a couple of those are definitely tied around actual episodes. ;)

But yeah, summary says it. World where everyone is born with a soulmate mark on the back of their left ring finger that darkens on skin contact with their match. Our OC, Em, is thrown into the NCIS world when, in a case involving her step-brother, she meets the MCRT team and learns that she has not one but two soulmatches: the ever brusque yet loveable Gibbs and the overly charming yet equally loveable Tony.

  ***

Excerpt

“Hey. How’re you holding up?”

Agent Gibbs sat next to her on the step of the NCIS truck, watching her closely as he held out a faintly steaming cup. Smiling wanly back, she accepted it with an automatic thank you, cradling it in hands that felt numb and cold.

“I. . .” she started but trailed off, unable to find the words. It seemed to be answer enough to the perceptive agent.

It seemed she was right in her assessment earlier that Agent Gibbs missed nothing.

He nodded stoically.

“Yeah, that’s about what I expected.” Her lip twitched with a subdued feeling of amusement at his dry tone. His features softened with a small, sympathetic smile. And despite herself, Em couldn’t quite make herself look away. There was something unexpectedly reassuring about his presence. Something that made her feel safe. Whatever it was, it helped calm the anxious thrum that had taken up residence in her chest when he’d ordered Tony away for his own overdue turn with the paramedics, regardless of the way he was still clearly in sight from where she sat.

At least, until his boss had joined her.

Her heart fluttered, her stomach echoing the flipping feeling at the realization.

But, no. . . that made no sense. Her stomach went from flipping happily to twisting uncomfortably as her thoughts began to race with dismay.

What horrible things did it mean about her that, barely an hour after actually finding her marked match, she felt herself drawn to another man?

Her throat threatened to close and her mouth went suddenly dry, her eyes widening as she stared at Agent Gibbs in growing shame and swiftly welling panic.

Still watching her intently, he frowned, concern plain on his face as he immediately picked up on her growing distress.

And clearly misinterpreting it.

“Hey, Miss Heyward—Emmaline,” he said firmly, prying the cup from her suddenly nerveless hands and setting it down before taking her hands securely in his, squeezing gently in an attempt to ground her, to pull her out of her spiralling panic, “breathe. It’s okay. You’re safe, no—” only to fall abruptly silent.

Right as she felt it.

Em gasped as the same electric-but-not sensation zinged through her, echoing the older agent’s sharp inhale.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Tony batting away an objecting paramedic, his brow creased with worry as he swiftly crossed the distance between the ambulance and the NCIS truck.

Her gaze dropped, slowly registering what she saw as though in a daze.

Reaching her side, Tony skidded to a stop, his eyes widening in shock and her name faltering on his lips.

But Em couldn’t tear her gaze away, staring at Agent Gibbs’ hands holding hers in fearful awe.

More specifically, his left hand, where the pale, organically curling marking on the back of his ring finger was no longer pale, but slowly darkening.

Matching the similarly darkening pattern of her own mark.

A pattern that she only just realized had only partially darkened when Tony had first taken her hand, leaving paler lines woven with the freshly darkened ones.

Pale lines that were now darkening to match the rest of her mark.

And Gibbs’.

A cleared throat had both Em and Agent Gibbs jerking, though he didn’t release her hands.

Not that she wanted him to.

Em blinked, looking up to meet the silver-haired agent’s gaze, and nearly lost herself in his vibrant, shocked eyes. She was reeling, every breath feeling like a revelation.

This was not happening.

She wasn’t lucky enough to find Tony in the first place. . .

But now?

Together, she and Agent Gibbs looked up to an equally off-kilter Tony. The younger agent cleared his throat again, visibly reeling as he swallowed thickly. With quick, darting glances between Em and his boss, he chuckled awkwardly, a faintly hysterical edge to the sound. “Uh, well, I guess Rule Ten is well and truly out the window on this one.”

Em looked anxiously between Tony and Gibbs, her insides a mess of panicked tremors and the odd, soothing feeling of right and safe she’d felt at Tony’s touch.

And now at Agent Gibbs, too.

Slowly, distractedly, her apparent second marked match nodded.

“Yeah, DiNozzo,” he said hoarsely. “You might say that.”

Chapter Text

A Knight's Tale Fanfiction

***

Summary

It’s a tale as beloved and familiar as any: that of a knight who is not a knight who not only proves his worth and merit to the world, but won the heart of his lady love.

But what if the lady was not the true holder of his heart? What if the lady he’d truly come to love was, in truth, the nun travelling among his companions.

More, a nun who is not a nun. . .

. . . but something more.

Since the film is hugely anachronistic, so too is this fic. Expect no accuracy here. Even history is at my mercy.

***

Yeah. . . . my brain and the muse living in it hates me. This is also happening.

. . . though admittedly it's tough to work on since, atm, my no longer teenaged-self is finding Prince Edward far more appealing than William Thatcher (I know, blasphemy, but it is what it is) . . . which is not terribly helpful for writing a story where our OC is supposed to fall in love with William while also being the daughter of Prince Edward. . . 

*facepalm*

ANYWAY!!

So we’re reaaaaally playing fast and loose with history here.

And oh, the irony of my plans. . .

My brain melting plans.

Of course, I couldn’t just keep it vague, keeping backstory and contextual details to a minimum, since so many for other projects never end up making it into the story.

Nope. Had to deep-dive into real history to write a little bit of historical fanfiction – emphasis on fiction – fun, apparently.

So here’s how it went: I decide that, as irl, Prince Edward didn’t marry until he was 31, and James Purefoy was 36 during filming, if I set the movie when Prince Edward was the same age, I could create a ‘first’ marriage for him at around age 17 that would allow for him to have a grown daughter by the time of the movie’s events. All totally plausible, considering how many in his family – especially his parents & a couple of his siblings – almost all married in their early to late teens. I mean, his parents were 18 & 17 when Prince Edward was born and 4 of his siblings were younger than 19 (would be 5, but one sister died on the journey to her wedding), so yeah.

Reasonable, right?

So, after vacillating on the name for a bit, because literally everyone named their kids after themselves in those days, I create an OC I ultimately named Marguerite of Valois, a slightly older (23 to Edward’s 17 when married) French cousin of Queen Phillipa and cousin to the French King (to make a story-required annulment a little more plausible if the request had royal weight behind it). Of course, after an age of resolving to wing it and not care, when I read that the movie purportedly takes place in 1360, (which is dumb because Edward appears married at the end and that didn’t happen until ’61), I immediately and without shame threw that detail out the window to accommodate Matilda and my ridiculous brain finally decided it really did need a proper timeline for my own reference and pure peace of mind.

I had it all mapped out.

A bit time consuming and a little frustrating at times to do, but it was done.

All that was left to satisfy my ridiculous brain was to find a distant real-life related family member of Queen Phillipa solely for the purposes of finding a place for Matilda’s maternal uncle or grandmother to be from (because I’m insane and wanted a real place actually connected with her family) to kick off the story when. . .

. . . low and behold, on looking at Prince Edward’s real life family tree and history, I learn that when Prince Edward was 15-16, King Edward III tried to marry him to Margaret of Brabant. . . a 23 year-old cousin of Phillipa’s through their mutual G-Grandfather, King Phillip III of France. . . also making her a cousin of the current King, ofc.

Oh, and did I mention that, in real life, instead of Prince Edward she ultimately married the Duke of Flanders when her dad decided to ally with the French King over the English one?

You know, Flanders? Where William and Co. were when Sir Ector died and Will decided to pretend to be a knight?

. . .

My brain melted a little.

And the rest of the context for this story fell beautifully into place.

And my head hurts trying to figure out how I managed to totally fabricate a background OC and scenario for her marriage to my primary OC’s father that felt like a 100% rip-off of an actual real-life person and an event that nearly happened. . .

Also, PS, am I the only one who picked up the definite chemistry between Adhemar and Jocelyn in the short exchange they shared before Adhemar decided to show off by bullying William? Like, legit, they seemed to be enjoying trading their quips and it was charged! Like, I could totally see it in a bit of an enemies-to-lovers sort of way.

Also also, is Roland and Christiana not the most adorable thing ever?

  ***

Excerpt

“And so is your [secret safe with me], highness.” Matilda’s head snapped sharply around to Chaucer. She fought not to swallow thickly, praying that he’d take the wideness of her eyes for confusion and affront instead of the shock and fear it was in truth.

“You are mistaken, sir,” she said as levelly as she could manage, forcing a bewildered laugh while silently cursing the quaver that betrayed her nevertheless. The corner of his lips twitched, his lifting brow signalling that he was far from convinced.

“While it’s been years, M’lady,” he said, the pointed quirk of his brow and the softening of his gaze marking the address as a concession to the fear she was evidently poor at hiding, “I spent time at court. With the Prince’s devotion to his only child, it t’would be impossible not to remember her face, even now changed into a visage of blooming womanhood from that of a sweet little princess with a flower in her hair instead of jewels.”

“Chaucer,” she hissed, her warning tone edging shamefully close to begging.

But he smiled softly, sadly, with genuine sympathy in his pale eyes. “I also remember the cruel whispers of the court against an innocent child, guilty of nothing but being daughter to an oft absent young prince and his distant, disliked – and worse – arrogantly French bride. Whispers I can only imagine worsened when the now former Princess Margaret returned to France in pursuit of her annulment and Prince Edward left again for war.

After a long moment, she nodded jerkily, unable to force a true reply past the lump in her throat at the memories his silver-tongued words called forth from the recesses of her mind she’d banished them to.

“As I said,” Chaucer continued softly, “your secret is safe with me.” Matilda drew in a shaking breath and nodded regally to the lanky blond man.

“I am in your debt, Chaucer,” she said, dashing away the dampness that had been gathering in her eyes. He smiled, the expression edging into a grimace.

“Not something I’m used to, I fear,” he said with an attempt at levity. “I am far more accustomed to being in debt than being owed any such.” Despite herself, Matilda giggled at his dry comment, as was his intent if his own slight chuckle was any indication.