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November Word Count
Okay so first, I of course failed at NaNo. It's not even a disappointment anymore. XD; Will try to write the next scene and then I'll post what I've got. I'm not sure I like this beginning either, it doesn't 100% jive with what I have planned for the rest of the plot, but maybe I'll eventually hit the right one. Nevermind.
It doesn't help that I fell headfirst into Homestuck fandom (goddamn you, Karkat Vantas) and have spent the last week marathoning everything that pinged me on AO3. (their search engine stops at page 40. THERE ARE MORE FICS FOR THIS FANDOM I CANNOT GET TO. AAAAAAAAAAA. please rec me stuff. EveryoneIsNormal AUs just totally miss the point for me, anything with alien shenanigans and culture clashes is yay, and I like Karkat interacting with just about anyone but especially John and Gamzee and maybe Sollux, and Dave/Terezi and Rose/Kanaya are also pretty awesome though I'll also read them with other people, my ships aren't fixed yet. (... troll shipping is awesome! woo quadrants. I am pinged in my special places.) As for characters I don't really get pinged by anyone but the kids and the trolls, maaaybe the kids' guardians...) Anyway long story short IF:nghtrolls♥ THEN:nowritin♠ .__.;
TOTAL WORD COUNT: 16 598 words. Laaaame.
Posted: NOTHING. shaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaame.
WIP:
-A schmoopy Seph/Zack/Aeris/Cloud ficlet in the same 'verse as Once Removed and Negotiating Relationships. (there's two more planned aaaaaa self why): 862 words.
-GW: Newtype: bit of silly dialogue, 168 words.
-Some weird packbonding o-fic thing that i'm not even sure where it's going or what the characters are like which makes writing 'em pretty hard, 903 words.
-Sequel to the GW/Stargate crossover, Heero POV, 827 words.
-The Tyr/NaNo story: 13 838 words. I AM THE LAMEST LAMER WHO EVER LAMED.
I'm consoling myself with the thought that at least even if I suck at writing a ton in one month, my monthly output isn't that bad and actually pretty regular over the year. (It's just that it's all over the place, so I never get to feel like I finish anything. Gnargh.)
--
SephZackCloudAeris plotless n'aww.
--
"Yes, dear?" Zack called back as he twisted around on the couch to peek over the back, a strange expression on his face like he was wondering whether he would be laughing at her answer or diving for cover.
Sephiroth wondered with faint amusement if she was once again going to break three minds in one go. Most of the time an announcement like this was innocuous; it was the remaining ten percent that tended to mark a person.
"I don't care if the rest of the house is perfect in all other respects," she called back from somewhere behind the counter, bent double to, Sephiroth presumed, check on the contents of the tiny, almost never used oven. "I refuse to move in if the kitchen isn't."
The three men exchanged looks. Zack was once again elected spokesperson. "Um. Move in where?"
Aeris' head popped up over the counter, and she blinked mildly baffled green eyes at Zack. Struck by a strange sense of foreboding, Sephiroth was vaguely tempted to retreat back behind his laptop screen and pretend he wasn't listening, and hence wasn't part of this. It might get him called silly and sat upon, though, and then she would be able to break his brain at point blank range.
"Move in together, silly," and Sephiroth stopped breathing for a second.
--
GW: Newtype
--
"Who's Werner?" Yuy asked as they trudged through a crossroad, past a group of people bargaining about a stalled car or whatever the issue was. Wufei kept watching them, the crowbars and wrenches in their hands dangerous-looking enough without worrying about the knives in deep pockets or the steel-capped boots.
"Oh, our lawfully elected mayor," Maxwell answered casually, eye roaming the street and a lazy smile stretching his lips, as if telling anyone who saw his bandaged face to please try it. "He's okay, really; always pays his round at the bar and never pays for any whore his daughter's age or less. One of his cousins got him the job because he didn't have what it takes to hack it in the family business. He's useless, of course, but he's not making it worse."
"Let me guess, the family business..."
"Protection, yep."
Was it a good thing or a bad one that their mayor failed as a mafioso? Ancestors above, Wufei wanted out of this place already.
--
Military Packbonding Ofic. I seem to have a type, huh. :/
--
The only reason he lived was that he'd been volunteered by the rest of his unit to carry orders to the Hounds.
Hounds didn't camp out with humans, not unless they were owned; when they weren't, he was told, they were nothing but trouble and it was to everyone's advantage if they didn't stay too close.
Nathan had never seen a Hound before. Not in real life. He'd seen pictures, of course, movies, newscasts. His first thought wasn't for the long plume of a tail or the gossamer threads of sensory tendrils drifting in a breeze that didn't exist, the air all around long since stilled by broken-down walls and low-hanging, heavy, choking greenery. It wasn't even for the shocking absence of white in their eyes, the irises that swallowed everything, though that came second.
It was that they looked so human.
Moved human, too, maybe not the painfully straight-backed stance of a General's cur, but nothing like the disturbing monkey-like body language of wild ones in old movies, before the Act was passed. One of them was sitting on a felled tree trunk, elbows on his thighs, casual as any fellow soldier as he watched Nathan come closer. The other one was moving closer already, like he'd known Nathan was coming before Nathan knew he'd arrived, and he moved... normal. Just normal. The stride of any combat-boot-wearing guy in just about any unit, hands swinging a bit like normal, hey there, you're not from this regiment, anything we can do for you buddy, man I sure hope we're not about to get orders to move we only just sat our asses down oh well, normal.
"Anything we can do for you?" he asked. He was lanky and tall but Nathan had known humans that tall, if not many, but when he smiled -- closemouthed -- muscles pulled in his face that highlighted a bone structure that had alien stamped all over it.
(Like forcing a dog's muzzle in and its forehead out and then dumping a latex mask of a human face over it, had said a guy in his unit who was now messily dead for being a goddamn dumbass, but he'd been right in that at least.)
--
GW/SGA crossover
--
And then John proceeded to have an entirely casual conversation with a man who spoke, as far as Heero could tell, perfect gibberish.
"Alright then. Benny, this is Sergeant Mulvaner, who'll be in charge of keeping track of you. Don't lose him. Mulvaner, Benny."
The man -- tall, dark blond, in his thirties, scowling -- asked something that sounded vaguely surprised, or suspicious maybe. Heero only recognized "benny" in it.
"For the love of -- no, the Major is just exercising his ridiculous habit of renaming things that don't need renamed. Then again he introduced himself as zero-one, and that's just as ridiculous as far as names go." Rodney sneaked him a glance around John's back, as if suddenly remembering Heero was right there and could hear him, and might perhaps even be able to get around John to get at him.
Not that Heero cared much. He was thinking through a theory.
Either everyone here was perfectly bilingual, or...
Or a few select people from an alien planet just happened to speak perfect Sankian -- Rodney with a hint of L4 melody, John with a curious blend of crisp Earth upper class grammar and extensive vocabulary and a L2 drawl that came off as mocking, tacked-on. Not the slums' slang, not really low-class, but still a curious mix.
He'd have to test that the people who didn't speak his language truly didn't understand it either -- though the nearest city's civilians he'd spent the last month amongst, casing the joint, honestly didn't seem to. He would have to push the paranoia pretty far to assume they'd all been flawlessly playing him.
"Any other name you'd rather use?"
A shrug. "Benny is fine."
"For god's sake, we're on a different planet, it's not like we could track you down if we had your real -- oh right, you don't have one." A brief flash of discomfort on Rodney's face, and then indignation once more. "But what would it hurt to give us a name that sounds like a name?"
"Nothing," he acknowledged. It annoyed John, though. A small part of him found that amusing. ... Rather childish of him, though, and not worth the potential for alienating a would-be ally. "Odin will do."
He hadn't expected Rodney and Mulvaner of all people to go tense all over and stare at him.
"... Odin, like the Norse god, the Allfather?"
--
Tyr story, start 2
--
Obsolete.
He flicked the dog tags on his chest, watched stainless steel swing. The black-edged tag read "THETA COMPANY," "TYR, ANDERSEN" and his blood type, identification number, and thauma practitioner status -- level two (barely registering as having any charge worth shaping,) non-practicing. The red-edged one, the medical, read "CLASSIFIED LVL.4," "AUTHORIZED MEDICAL PERSONNEL ONLY," "DO NOT RESUSCITATE."
Tended to end badly for the well-meaning guys attempting the resuscitating.
Not that he had ever needed it. As far as he remembered.
He nudged the tags again. Swing, swing, trailing arcs of reflected fluorescent light. He was going to need to have them changed; two lines at the end, and then a star, a staff-and-serpent symbol. Honorable Discharge, medical grounds. Not how he'd planned to leave the military.
Then again you weren't supposed to leave Theta Company otherwise than in a body bag. He was sure it was in his contract somewhere. Felt weird to be cut loose, body and brain both still filled with classified stuff.
He supposed with the war over and the demilitarization orders trickling through the ranks he counted as one more weapon to decommission. Made sense.
Except, no, it really didn't. What the hell were the brass thinking?
"Andersen, hey. Nice bling."
Tyr looked up at the man ambling down the corridor, already half out of uniform, dress jacket slung over his shoulder and only a tanktop underneath. The effect was weird over the white riding pants and polished, knee-high black boots that comprised the rest of it. He couldn't help a glance at his own chest, though, the unfamiliar pressure of the high collar against his throat a brief distraction, and the small row of silvery crosses that said, in order, "you did a good job," "until you got caught, alive," "but at least you escaped."
(It bothered him, that last one. He didn't remember the escape at all.)
(Maybe the Gwel had tried to resuscitate him. Teach them to read tags.)
"You got medals of your own," he said, voice quiet, a little raspy from being so silent for so long. Keller shrugged and gave his jacket a little shake, making the POW medal clink against his buttons.
"Yeah, I got a new one for that clusterfuck, and then I got a 'take that general discharge, Keller, or you're getting a dishonorable one, and I'll kick you in the knee too!'"
Tyr knew better than to encourage the man. He couldn't help but smile nevertheless, the corner of his lips tilting up against his best judgment. Keller's own heavy-lidded, mocking smile stretched out, lazy and satisfied.
"Waiting on Reynolds?"
"Mmh."
"Huh." A distant, thoughtful look flashed through Keller's eyes and then was swallowed by casual disinterest, like he'd been a bit surprised at first, and now wasn't. Tyr tilted his head a bit.
"You too, I take it?" he asked, for confirmation, and wasn't surprised at the shrug and the nod he got in response. Made sense, really. He and Keller had never really worked together long-term before, just met here and there, just like everyone else in Theta Company -- the brass didn't like it much when the experimental black ops soldiers bonded together enough to forget to be suicidal, which he'd been told happened...
(He missed Serrano. He didn't even know her that well either. He just... missed her. They hunted well together.)
... He and Keller had never really worked together long-term, until Tyr woke up one day to the door of his cell being kicked open and a dirty-blond man with a very non-regulation ponytail was shoved in, eyes wild and teeth bared. If someone wanted to see them together, made sense it'd be related to that. Again.
Keller plopped down on the plastic chair beside him, making it creak under his weight. All muscle, of course, and he wasn't exactly a small man, broad-shouldered, arms thick; he made Tyr look even scrawnier by contrast, all wiry muscles and long runner's legs.
Keller pulled a length of string from his pocket and started weaving a cat's cradle between his fingers, humming something annoyingly tuneless under his breath. Tyr watched; it was more interesting than watching his own tags swing, if not by very much. If he remembered right, Keller was a Thauma 3, not that much higher than he was. "Does it work?"
A shrug. "It's probability shifting. Who knows? Only way to measure would be to use it in a casino; solid numbers, easy to graph, and then I'd get banned up and down the coast."
"What are you shifting it toward?"
"General Mardsten getting gonorrhea."
"... Ah."
Another shrug; Keller flipped his hands face up and did something to the string with his little fingers that changed the whole pattern somehow. "His place is prolly plastered with anti-T, but whatever. Something to do, right?"
"You might consider taking up Solitaire."
It doesn't help that I fell headfirst into Homestuck fandom (goddamn you, Karkat Vantas) and have spent the last week marathoning everything that pinged me on AO3. (their search engine stops at page 40. THERE ARE MORE FICS FOR THIS FANDOM I CANNOT GET TO. AAAAAAAAAAA. please rec me stuff. EveryoneIsNormal AUs just totally miss the point for me, anything with alien shenanigans and culture clashes is yay, and I like Karkat interacting with just about anyone but especially John and Gamzee and maybe Sollux, and Dave/Terezi and Rose/Kanaya are also pretty awesome though I'll also read them with other people, my ships aren't fixed yet. (... troll shipping is awesome! woo quadrants. I am pinged in my special places.) As for characters I don't really get pinged by anyone but the kids and the trolls, maaaybe the kids' guardians...) Anyway long story short IF:nghtrolls♥ THEN:nowritin♠ .__.;
TOTAL WORD COUNT: 16 598 words. Laaaame.
Posted: NOTHING. shaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaame.
WIP:
-A schmoopy Seph/Zack/Aeris/Cloud ficlet in the same 'verse as Once Removed and Negotiating Relationships. (there's two more planned aaaaaa self why): 862 words.
-GW: Newtype: bit of silly dialogue, 168 words.
-Some weird packbonding o-fic thing that i'm not even sure where it's going or what the characters are like which makes writing 'em pretty hard, 903 words.
-Sequel to the GW/Stargate crossover, Heero POV, 827 words.
-The Tyr/NaNo story: 13 838 words. I AM THE LAMEST LAMER WHO EVER LAMED.
I'm consoling myself with the thought that at least even if I suck at writing a ton in one month, my monthly output isn't that bad and actually pretty regular over the year. (It's just that it's all over the place, so I never get to feel like I finish anything. Gnargh.)
--
SephZackCloudAeris plotless n'aww.
--
"Yes, dear?" Zack called back as he twisted around on the couch to peek over the back, a strange expression on his face like he was wondering whether he would be laughing at her answer or diving for cover.
Sephiroth wondered with faint amusement if she was once again going to break three minds in one go. Most of the time an announcement like this was innocuous; it was the remaining ten percent that tended to mark a person.
"I don't care if the rest of the house is perfect in all other respects," she called back from somewhere behind the counter, bent double to, Sephiroth presumed, check on the contents of the tiny, almost never used oven. "I refuse to move in if the kitchen isn't."
The three men exchanged looks. Zack was once again elected spokesperson. "Um. Move in where?"
Aeris' head popped up over the counter, and she blinked mildly baffled green eyes at Zack. Struck by a strange sense of foreboding, Sephiroth was vaguely tempted to retreat back behind his laptop screen and pretend he wasn't listening, and hence wasn't part of this. It might get him called silly and sat upon, though, and then she would be able to break his brain at point blank range.
"Move in together, silly," and Sephiroth stopped breathing for a second.
--
GW: Newtype
--
"Who's Werner?" Yuy asked as they trudged through a crossroad, past a group of people bargaining about a stalled car or whatever the issue was. Wufei kept watching them, the crowbars and wrenches in their hands dangerous-looking enough without worrying about the knives in deep pockets or the steel-capped boots.
"Oh, our lawfully elected mayor," Maxwell answered casually, eye roaming the street and a lazy smile stretching his lips, as if telling anyone who saw his bandaged face to please try it. "He's okay, really; always pays his round at the bar and never pays for any whore his daughter's age or less. One of his cousins got him the job because he didn't have what it takes to hack it in the family business. He's useless, of course, but he's not making it worse."
"Let me guess, the family business..."
"Protection, yep."
Was it a good thing or a bad one that their mayor failed as a mafioso? Ancestors above, Wufei wanted out of this place already.
--
Military Packbonding Ofic. I seem to have a type, huh. :/
--
The only reason he lived was that he'd been volunteered by the rest of his unit to carry orders to the Hounds.
Hounds didn't camp out with humans, not unless they were owned; when they weren't, he was told, they were nothing but trouble and it was to everyone's advantage if they didn't stay too close.
Nathan had never seen a Hound before. Not in real life. He'd seen pictures, of course, movies, newscasts. His first thought wasn't for the long plume of a tail or the gossamer threads of sensory tendrils drifting in a breeze that didn't exist, the air all around long since stilled by broken-down walls and low-hanging, heavy, choking greenery. It wasn't even for the shocking absence of white in their eyes, the irises that swallowed everything, though that came second.
It was that they looked so human.
Moved human, too, maybe not the painfully straight-backed stance of a General's cur, but nothing like the disturbing monkey-like body language of wild ones in old movies, before the Act was passed. One of them was sitting on a felled tree trunk, elbows on his thighs, casual as any fellow soldier as he watched Nathan come closer. The other one was moving closer already, like he'd known Nathan was coming before Nathan knew he'd arrived, and he moved... normal. Just normal. The stride of any combat-boot-wearing guy in just about any unit, hands swinging a bit like normal, hey there, you're not from this regiment, anything we can do for you buddy, man I sure hope we're not about to get orders to move we only just sat our asses down oh well, normal.
"Anything we can do for you?" he asked. He was lanky and tall but Nathan had known humans that tall, if not many, but when he smiled -- closemouthed -- muscles pulled in his face that highlighted a bone structure that had alien stamped all over it.
(Like forcing a dog's muzzle in and its forehead out and then dumping a latex mask of a human face over it, had said a guy in his unit who was now messily dead for being a goddamn dumbass, but he'd been right in that at least.)
--
GW/SGA crossover
--
And then John proceeded to have an entirely casual conversation with a man who spoke, as far as Heero could tell, perfect gibberish.
"Alright then. Benny, this is Sergeant Mulvaner, who'll be in charge of keeping track of you. Don't lose him. Mulvaner, Benny."
The man -- tall, dark blond, in his thirties, scowling -- asked something that sounded vaguely surprised, or suspicious maybe. Heero only recognized "benny" in it.
"For the love of -- no, the Major is just exercising his ridiculous habit of renaming things that don't need renamed. Then again he introduced himself as zero-one, and that's just as ridiculous as far as names go." Rodney sneaked him a glance around John's back, as if suddenly remembering Heero was right there and could hear him, and might perhaps even be able to get around John to get at him.
Not that Heero cared much. He was thinking through a theory.
Either everyone here was perfectly bilingual, or...
Or a few select people from an alien planet just happened to speak perfect Sankian -- Rodney with a hint of L4 melody, John with a curious blend of crisp Earth upper class grammar and extensive vocabulary and a L2 drawl that came off as mocking, tacked-on. Not the slums' slang, not really low-class, but still a curious mix.
He'd have to test that the people who didn't speak his language truly didn't understand it either -- though the nearest city's civilians he'd spent the last month amongst, casing the joint, honestly didn't seem to. He would have to push the paranoia pretty far to assume they'd all been flawlessly playing him.
"Any other name you'd rather use?"
A shrug. "Benny is fine."
"For god's sake, we're on a different planet, it's not like we could track you down if we had your real -- oh right, you don't have one." A brief flash of discomfort on Rodney's face, and then indignation once more. "But what would it hurt to give us a name that sounds like a name?"
"Nothing," he acknowledged. It annoyed John, though. A small part of him found that amusing. ... Rather childish of him, though, and not worth the potential for alienating a would-be ally. "Odin will do."
He hadn't expected Rodney and Mulvaner of all people to go tense all over and stare at him.
"... Odin, like the Norse god, the Allfather?"
--
Tyr story, start 2
--
Obsolete.
He flicked the dog tags on his chest, watched stainless steel swing. The black-edged tag read "THETA COMPANY," "TYR, ANDERSEN" and his blood type, identification number, and thauma practitioner status -- level two (barely registering as having any charge worth shaping,) non-practicing. The red-edged one, the medical, read "CLASSIFIED LVL.4," "AUTHORIZED MEDICAL PERSONNEL ONLY," "DO NOT RESUSCITATE."
Tended to end badly for the well-meaning guys attempting the resuscitating.
Not that he had ever needed it. As far as he remembered.
He nudged the tags again. Swing, swing, trailing arcs of reflected fluorescent light. He was going to need to have them changed; two lines at the end, and then a star, a staff-and-serpent symbol. Honorable Discharge, medical grounds. Not how he'd planned to leave the military.
Then again you weren't supposed to leave Theta Company otherwise than in a body bag. He was sure it was in his contract somewhere. Felt weird to be cut loose, body and brain both still filled with classified stuff.
He supposed with the war over and the demilitarization orders trickling through the ranks he counted as one more weapon to decommission. Made sense.
Except, no, it really didn't. What the hell were the brass thinking?
"Andersen, hey. Nice bling."
Tyr looked up at the man ambling down the corridor, already half out of uniform, dress jacket slung over his shoulder and only a tanktop underneath. The effect was weird over the white riding pants and polished, knee-high black boots that comprised the rest of it. He couldn't help a glance at his own chest, though, the unfamiliar pressure of the high collar against his throat a brief distraction, and the small row of silvery crosses that said, in order, "you did a good job," "until you got caught, alive," "but at least you escaped."
(It bothered him, that last one. He didn't remember the escape at all.)
(Maybe the Gwel had tried to resuscitate him. Teach them to read tags.)
"You got medals of your own," he said, voice quiet, a little raspy from being so silent for so long. Keller shrugged and gave his jacket a little shake, making the POW medal clink against his buttons.
"Yeah, I got a new one for that clusterfuck, and then I got a 'take that general discharge, Keller, or you're getting a dishonorable one, and I'll kick you in the knee too!'"
Tyr knew better than to encourage the man. He couldn't help but smile nevertheless, the corner of his lips tilting up against his best judgment. Keller's own heavy-lidded, mocking smile stretched out, lazy and satisfied.
"Waiting on Reynolds?"
"Mmh."
"Huh." A distant, thoughtful look flashed through Keller's eyes and then was swallowed by casual disinterest, like he'd been a bit surprised at first, and now wasn't. Tyr tilted his head a bit.
"You too, I take it?" he asked, for confirmation, and wasn't surprised at the shrug and the nod he got in response. Made sense, really. He and Keller had never really worked together long-term before, just met here and there, just like everyone else in Theta Company -- the brass didn't like it much when the experimental black ops soldiers bonded together enough to forget to be suicidal, which he'd been told happened...
(He missed Serrano. He didn't even know her that well either. He just... missed her. They hunted well together.)
... He and Keller had never really worked together long-term, until Tyr woke up one day to the door of his cell being kicked open and a dirty-blond man with a very non-regulation ponytail was shoved in, eyes wild and teeth bared. If someone wanted to see them together, made sense it'd be related to that. Again.
Keller plopped down on the plastic chair beside him, making it creak under his weight. All muscle, of course, and he wasn't exactly a small man, broad-shouldered, arms thick; he made Tyr look even scrawnier by contrast, all wiry muscles and long runner's legs.
Keller pulled a length of string from his pocket and started weaving a cat's cradle between his fingers, humming something annoyingly tuneless under his breath. Tyr watched; it was more interesting than watching his own tags swing, if not by very much. If he remembered right, Keller was a Thauma 3, not that much higher than he was. "Does it work?"
A shrug. "It's probability shifting. Who knows? Only way to measure would be to use it in a casino; solid numbers, easy to graph, and then I'd get banned up and down the coast."
"What are you shifting it toward?"
"General Mardsten getting gonorrhea."
"... Ah."
Another shrug; Keller flipped his hands face up and did something to the string with his little fingers that changed the whole pattern somehow. "His place is prolly plastered with anti-T, but whatever. Something to do, right?"
"You might consider taking up Solitaire."
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ALSO HI. Uh, not sure if you remember me but it's Kurafufu from LJ! I use DW a lot more actively and while rereading your fanfics last night I kind of found your DW and just yeah. ...Hi! ♥
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I'm pretty much crossposting from here so it's the same content in both places. Except the master list posts link back to LJ instead, cause i'm too lazy to make them twice. >__>; It's tagged way better on DW though. oh, DW tags, my precioussss. *__*
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(I totally nabbed this username when it was available OH HO because I am an opportunistic fangirl, apparently.)
DW tags are brilliant, aren't they? I especially love the option to combine tags. @3@
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*clears throat* I may be a wee bit overexcited about this. So excited that I am neither napping nor studying for finals just to send you notice of my glee. Also, Karkat Vantas is spazzy, creatively cursing, rage-filled, thirteen-year-old alien crack, and I love him with every fiber of my being not dedicated to loving Uchiha Sasuke. And some that were previously dedicated to loving Uchiha Sasuke, but now have to share. <3 I also think there is a severe lack of good Karkat<>Gamzee fic, and have a rather large fondness for Sollux and each and every one of the girls in this story, oh my god. *flails*
...I recommend anything by urbanAnchorite, including Hemostuck (no culture shock, but it's a really well-written, no-Sgrub AU), and by extension I have a fondness for RoachPatrol? Hmmmm... I'll look around and see what I can find! *inspired*
...On a slight side note, quadrants are my antidrug, and I have spent a good portion of time since entering Homestuck fandom putting all of my favorite fandom relationships into them in my head. >.>
Aaaaaaah I'm so glad someone I know is in this fandom I have wanted to flail about it for so long and nobody I was already friends with was in it aaaaaaaaah.
...Okay back to studying. >.>
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GW/SGA crossover made me giggle with the name Odin. snerk. The language thing was interesting as well, I'm curious as to how that'll sort itself out.
Tyr story, start 2 was my second favorite. You're not the only one with a favorite theme. You managed to bring across that these are people who are familiar with each other and the situation without info dumping or leaving readers in the dark. (Respect points for that because I know how hard it is to do that.) The little tidbits here and there like not remembering escaping, or missing Serrano, or what Mardsten plans for them...I am hooked.
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I am really happy to hear you like the military packbonding thing! Though at the moment I have no idea what the bad guy is like, which is a bit umm since the first half of the plot consists of running away from it. XD Okay no, I have a couple of possibilities. Gotta sit down and make myself think on it.
Am super extra glad you also liked the Tyr bit! yay. Will post some soon. ♥
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One of my recent favorite fics is
One of my recent favorite fics is <a href:"http://archiveofourown.org/series/11444">Connect</a>, an ongoing species-swapping series with strong hints of upcoming poly, and plenty of Karkat in the current story (he's my favorite, the adorable crabbly little bastard). <a href:"http://brainbent.tumblr.com/">Brainbent</a> might qualify as "Everyone is Normal," in the sense that everyone is human, but it both manages to keep everyone pretty in-character and tell a story about an insane asylum that neither sugarcoats nor demonizes anything about mental illness or the treatment thereof.
Also, I still love the Tyr story. And Dian casually trying to curse the General is awesome.
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Am glad you like the tyr story! ♥
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So has he really not given them his name yet, lol. thats soo Heero
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Mostly he's just being difficult now though. XD
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Tho he says his parents were big into the mythology, but yea. ^^
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Thank you so much for the recs. Shinyyyyy. *_*
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sorry i've never heard of that before but that does make the last convo make sense..
also Aeris breaking brain at point blank range! try saying that 10 times fast! XDD awesome
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Aeris makes things awesome just by being in them. u.u-b
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My roommate is really big into the fanfic, though, so I could ask her for recs, if you want some?
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Poor Wufei, stuck having to depend on Duo. And I don't know if it should make him feel better, but it pretty much made me die laughing that the mayor was shoved into politics because he sucked as a mafia member XD
Heero telling them to call him Odin made me chuckle, but that he thought it was fine if they called him Benny was even more hilarious! I mean, I can just hear Duo's response to finding that out XD
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so far, so there's no risk of you missing reading those because you don't know the fandom. XDWufei is really chafing at the Duo thing because he's dead worried about Meiran, though I guess he'd still be annoyed if she was fine (or still dead i guess XD) he's so crabby.
What's wrong with Benny! It's just sounds strung together to indicate a person. Really! u.u (okay no he vaguely thinks it doesn't suit him, but he likes to annoy John enough by refusing to care that it compensates for the annoyance. XD)
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He really can be :D But yeah, I can see how a lot of it is worrying over Meiran.
(Of course he does, it's Heero! XD) It's actually well-chosen, in that I think it's one of the most unsuitable names for Heero ever, lol.
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Seconding... all the previous recs. Especially UrbanAnchorite (http://archiveofourown.org/users/t_ZM/pseuds/urbanAnchorite/works?selected_tags[]=117807) who does her some beautiful Terezi/Dave.
The Finer Details of Gay Cluckbeast (http://archiveofourown.org/works/244127/chapters/376384) is fairly excellent. It's sorta one of the "they're normal!" AUs except they reeeally are not - it's post-session "everything somehow worked out fine but that's not the plot". You still get sylladexes and captcha cards and strife sessions treated as part of the world's technology, as is so rarely done, and there's physical holdovers from SBurb as well as PTSD of varying levels. The actual premise is that "John and Dave play gay chicken and win". It spans like ten plus years and twenty plus chapters.
Miracle Child (http://archiveofourown.org/works/266683/chapters/419402) is full of alien shenanigans. It stars post-session Gamzee training as a Subjugglator and dealing with his ancestor, detox, and emotional issues. And yep, Karkat is in there in all his capslock rageglory.
Striders Edge (http://archiveofourown.org/works/225382) is a college AU. In Oxford. In an AU where apparently Alternia has conquered Earth and there's a fuckton of troll society and legal systems fused up into ours. It starts off light and witty and shenanigans and proceeds to shatter your heart midways through and then it just will not let up until it's been crushed to fine fucking powder.
Nowhere Man (http://homesmut.livejournal.com/7440.html?thread=8494864) for your John/Karkat needs. Also your polyamorous John/Rose/Jade/Dave needs because human society works different in the apocalypse. Premise: Karkat gets turned into a human and it wigs him the hell out. Trolls are pretty alien in this one! They don't even share a common language with the humans (Karkat gets spoken translation but not written), they've even got different brain structure which gets elaborated on somewhat later and pretty much knocked my socks off when I hit that part. Warnings: Contains smut and also has not updated in a while.
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Can you tell me in more detail what strider's edge is about? if it ends well? because i took a look but the start didn't ping me and the ending was really confusing without knowing wtf was going on and also a little worrying, which oughta teach me to read out of context. >__>;;
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It ends badly for a whole lotta people.
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That aside, I think my favorite bit was Newtypes. The mayor is a mayor because he failed at being mafia, pfffffft. No wonder Duo turned out the way he did. Whooohooo Lawless Hell FTW!
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(Anonymous) 2011-12-16 06:01 am (UTC)(link)http://standand.deviantart.com/art/Cute-kids-Best-bros-274168605
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(kids are both brats, though, also in very different ways. XD)