Writer of book and manga reviews reviews, fanfiction and articles about a number of subjects. Graduate of DeVry with an Associates in Web Graphic Design. My current fandoms include Homestuck and sf and fantasy writers such as Diane Duane, Martha Wells and Seanan McGuire among others.
Ask blog for contra legem
Muse box/rp blog/ask blog for contra! Dave
Rp blog for Troll!Dave
i will type whatever my gay little hands care to type
THERE IS SO MUCHGOOD FANFICTION IN THIS WORLD
SO GOD DAMN MUCH
SO MANY FICS THAT I WOULD CUT OFF MY LEFT ARM TO SEE PLAYED OUT
i just figured out how to stop getting notifications from lukapals :D i can just delete...
(CAVEAT: This is a draft. It may get updated. Feel free to suggest...
Her Highness had arrived as an Angel of Death. Her horns had been covered by velvet ram’s horns, and she wore a skull mask. Her dress was black and spangled with silver embroidery and diamond chips. She was also wearing a set of swan feather wings. John felt under dressed as a Roman Centurion. Gathering his courage, he approached and waited for Her Highness to acknowledge him before asking her for the next dance.
"I thought Signlessists were pacifists," Equius grumbled as he disabled the most recent boobytrap. A simple tripwire that would cause a chain reaction that would have brought the entire ceiling down on their heads.
"Why in the world would you think something like that, Equius?" Aradia asked somewhat distractedly. She was snapping pictures of the bas-relief carvings on the walls.
"My Ancestor…seems to have been a pacifist. According to his writings." Equius sounded like he wanted to scrub his mouth out with something abrasive. He was not at all comfortable with the things he had discovered about his Ancestor, or how he was supposed to react to them. Aradia almost felt sorry for him. Up until Mindfang’s code had been cracked and they’d found the Expatriate’s early diaries, Zahhak had believed that his Ancestor had been a traitor and a coward, and that his duty was to be perfectly obedient to those above him. (It had made him completely unbearable for the longest time.) Now he knew that his Ancestor had been a traitor because of Serendipity at first sight and he didn’t know what to do with himself.
"That was a personal choice, Equius," Aradia said patiently. "The Deep River community was more than willing to crack heads, as I’m sure you’ll remember."
She half expected him to mutter something about how they should have left “the mutant” in that “vermin’s warren,” but instead he looked up and actually smiled. “I do indeed remember. I simply assumed that their ideals had…degenerated over the sweeps. Especially since they chose to lay uncouth hands on their ‘Signless Reborn.’”
"To be fair, they thought they were rescuing him from dire and perilous conditions," Aradia said.
Either send me a prompt, or ask me for a prompt.
The former Imperial Condescension frowned at the jar full of sand that contained three firelizard eggs from the first clutch from Tavros’ gold. (“I, um, can’t be certain anyone of them will be golds, so here’s three of the biggest eggs,” he had said when he’d shyly presented her with the jar.) They were very close to hatching, wobbling in a very disturbing fashion. “Fish better be worth it, Feferi,” she said.
"It will," Feferi said insistently. "I haven’t had a daymare since I Impressed Lilioth, and neither has anyone else. And didn’t you sleep well at Southern and Benden?"
"That may have been the paralytic agent," the Condesce said. She was about to say a few unflattering things about healers who weren’t careful enough to ensure that a medication didn’t have unexpected side effects when there was a very delicate cracking noise. One of the firelizards was hatching! “Feferi!” The Condesce said urgently. Feferi immediately handed the Condesce the bowl of meat.
"This isn’t like Impressing a dragon, remember," Feferi said. "You have to think happy, welcoming thoughts and feed them until they don’t want to leave—"
"I remember," Condesce said irritably as she took the bowl. The first lizard broke free of its shell, a dark wet brown. It was ugly and ridiculous looking, wobbling about and screaming like the Universe owed it something. Condesce was amused, and dropped a few gobbets of meat down in front of it. The meat swiftly disappeared down the creatures throat. The other two followed their brother, one an olive green, and the other a brown lighter than the first. The Condesce was too busy feeding the tiny, greedy things to be very disappointed that she hadn’t gotten a gold or a bronze, which she understood to be prestige colors.
Eventually the insatiable hatchlings were well-fed and sleeping curled up in the crook of her arms and in her lap. She barely noticed when Feferi quietly picked up the jar and the bowl and tip-toed from the room.
Oddly enough, Rose finds Aradia talking with some noncombatants about fairy tales. More specifically, she was trading the stories while she helped in the kitchen. “…of course Antero then remembered the words of her moirail and said ‘open lock, into block’ and the door opened. There she found her sword and a little vial…” The fairytale continued, and in general sounded like a cross between Vasilisa the Wise and East of the Sun and West of the Moon. It was an extremely surreal sight, and almost made Rose consider psychic influence. From what she knew however, Ms. Megido’s talents did not involve coercive telepathy.
Story time came to an end when the kitchen workers and Aradia caught sight of Rose. “Hello, Ms. Lalonde,” Aradia said, and set the knife she’d been using to peel potatoes aside. “Since you gave me free run of the camp I thought I’d take advantage of the opportunity and do a field investigation since negotiations haven’t been going well.”
"I wasn’t aware of them going poorly," Rose said.
"You haven’t let me see my brother," Megido pointed out. "Or speak to him, even though he was able to persuade you to agree to negotiation."
"Your brother?" Rose asked.
"Dave Strider. ‘Brother’ is almost the correct term. He is my matesprit’s moirail, which is a close relationship by our standards," Aradia explained.
Rose felt a little surprised at that admission. Strider had indicated as much, but Rose had—mostly—doubted the fidelity was returned. (Honestly, she still felt that Strider had been emotionally manipulated in some manner. However high-functioning he seemed, he was actually in desperate need of therapy.) “I was willing to negotiate because of trusted informants who told me that this ‘Progressive Movement’ had ideals similar to our organization,” Rose said.
"But you still won’t let me see my brother," Aradia said patiently.
"Mr. Strider is according to your laws, Ms. Pyrope’s property," Rose pointed out. "Therefore, I won’t let you see him, or turn him over to your custody."
"So, you’ll keep him imprisoned instead?" Aradia asked.
"He is not a prisoner," Rose said. "Or at least, he’s no longer one. He’s a patient."
it is never too late for prompts since I almost never get prompts. And if I do, they don’t always come out right or at all, as may be illustrated from this potential future fic contra legem time stamp which has almost nothing to do with the actual prompt.
But ask me a meta question? Or give me a prompt.