MY PHONE IS DYING but you guys need to know that chapter four is up!
http://archiveofourown.org/works/8997835
Yuri!!! On Ice with 100% more Viktor backstory and PoV!
MY PHONE IS DYING but you guys need to know that chapter four is up!
http://archiveofourown.org/works/8997835
Yuri!!! On Ice with 100% more Viktor backstory and PoV!
Crying Wolf
Winning gold at the European Championships and again at Worlds isn’t enough to keep the wolves at bay, and Viktor finds himself slipping deeper and deeper into despair. Every waking moment is consumed by existential crisis and wandering thoughts of the boy who just walked away from skating forever.
… Or did he?
A viral video says otherwise, and that changes everything.
http://archiveofourown.org/works/8997835/chapters/20881067
Finally posted!
…have I mentioned that I usually write in first person and my chapters are almost never longer than 2k? What am I doing???
Finished a one-shot fic for Yuri on Ice with the puppers…
Any Good Dog will wait for their master to return as long as it takes- even into death. But although Yuuri’s been back for almost a year, Vicchan can’t seem to move on. It looks like he’ll need Makkachin’s help to right the wrongs of the past and set his master free of the heavy burden of guilt… but can Makkachin bring himself to disobey Viktor for the greater good?
http://archiveofourown.org/works/9142228
art to follow. :’3
http://archiveofourown.org/works/8997835/chapters/20671513
I’m on the train but I can’t wait! The comments so far are killing me :’)
FINALLY POSTED… the first chapter of mine and @mamodewberry‘s Yuri on Ice!!! fanfic, Never Look Away!
The summary:
Everything Viktor knows and loves is tangled up in the world of competitive skating- a world that, for him, is quickly coming to an end. Standing at the precipice of the inevitable, he must decide how his tale unfolds: should he retire into quiet obscurity? Allow himself to be eaten alive by the younger, more vicious competition?
…Or risk it all on a struggling, but passionate, skater halfway across the world, who may prove to be the inspiration, life, and love that Viktor’s been missing all this time?
AKA: a YOI companion novel with 100% more Viktor backstory and perspective. Yes, you’re welcome.
Read it here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8997835/chapters/20547385
Happy Birthday, Viktor! And Merry Christmas! :>
Some of you know that once I finish Spark (a dcmk fanfic), I’m going to write another Detective Conan/Magic Kaito fic called A Lovely Day for Murder, aka Hakuba’s life story. I’ve been working on an outline off and on for the past few months, and writing practice snippets. Third person? First? I think it’ll likely be in first person, and written in the style (as best as I can manage) of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.
We’ll see how that goes.
In the meantime, here are the 1,300~ words that I wrote tonight as an experiment and distraction from the novel that I SHOULD be finishing but am not. Yet. It’s the setup for a heist, and may or may not end up in the fanfic book.
Crazy sorry to mobile users; it’s long. I got a little carried away and didn’t actually edit it at all (do I ever?), but hopefully Hakuba fans will enjoy it anyway.
A Game of Chase
The
weather that night was harsh and cold; not altogether unusual for
mid-November, but unpleasant for those members of the police force that
were sequestered to the courtyard outside of the Grande Plaza hotel.
Nakamori-keibu had his men poised like hungry hounds at the end of their
leashes, straining, ready to give chase and attack. Even so, there were
sniffles under rain slickers, and anxious shifting from the chilly air.
An enormous stone lion stood guard on either side of the broad
staircase into the ballroom, staring down at the crowd in impassive
silence. It set the mood. Three minutes left.
The
inspector sneezed, but didn’t let his eyes close, glaring at the triad
of double doors, each french lattice and glass. Inside, the woman with
the Miner’s Emerald necklace stood, smiling, watching the clock. The
pendant wasn’t priceless, but it was worth more than most of the
officers would make over the entirety of their career; cut in the shape
of a heart, glittering pavonine blues, greens, and purples. It sat over
the strip of cleavage exposed by her low-cut evening gown. She touched
the gem, then brought her finger to her lips, biting just the tip of her
glove with her teeth. She was excited. KID was going to steal from her, and he’d have to touch her to get it.
“You
look pleased,” said the young detective who stood next to her. “Do you,
perhaps, have an ulterior motive for taking his challenge?”
The
woman shifted her dark-eyed gaze to him, eyes moving from his
fair-skinned face, down his body, and to his leather shoes. He was
young, she knew, but the square of his jaw and his professional demeanor
made him feel so much older. The cut of fabric served him well,
too; tailored for his lean frame in a way that expressed where his
strengths were- broad shoulders, thick thighs -while giving such a
subtle curve to the slender areas. He was handsome, to be sure, and thus
far, she’d been impressed with his wit and observation- that was why
she’d hired him, after all -but his accusation gave her pause.
Irritation, perhaps? Something of that sort.
Yes, she was
older; forty-three and showing the maturity in her face. But she was
well-endowed in the chest, her body was toned and firm where it should
have been, supple where it wasn’t. She’d spent a fortune on her beauty,
and no young, foreign detective was going to spoil her fun, even if she had
considered taking him to bed before. No, tonight her prey was Kaitou
KID. She wanted him to touch her to take the gem, to get close and
personal, able to take in his scent, feel his hand on her skin, and
then… have the British boy to retrieve it for her.
“No,”
she answered after she’d given herself a moment to consider her
feelings. “Of course not, Hakuba-kun.” Even though he’d not corrected
her on the matter, she knew that he preferred ‘san’ to ‘kun,’ but he was
still a boy and she was his employer. And she loved watching the
little twitch at the corner of his left eye when she did it. For all of
his steel nerves and composure, she could get under his skin, and that
gave her immense pleasure. “I didn’t tell him to steal this, you know. That was his doing. I’m simply complying.”
The
young detective carded long, thin fingers through the fringe of blond
over his forehead and sighed, mouth curving into a faint smirk of
amusement. “If you insist, Miyako-san. But, if you’d like my opinion,”
he said, dropping his voice and leaning closer to her- just a few
inches, but it was enough that she could feel his breath on her ear when
he spoke. “I hardly think your advertisement in the newspaper was
necessary.” He pulled back with a little wink, but there was a sort of
slow way that he did it… like it wasn’t a suggestion; it was a
warning.
The woman brushed her hand over the wisp of dark
hair that had fallen out of place with her detective’s words, and she
turned her head away, indignant. “Say what you like,” she sniffed. “Just
make sure that you’re able to stop that thief from getting away with
this.”
“Of course, Miyako-san.” The teen nodded, then
stepped away from his client to resume his position against the wall.
He’d been away from home for three months, four days, seventeen hours,
thirty-seven minutes, and… well, he snapped his watch shut and slipped
it back into the pocket of his trousers. In that time, he’d received no
shortage of patronizing treatment from strangers and colleagues alike.
Was
it because of his age? At seventeen, he’d clocked over three hundred
hours in the service of Scotland Yard, and far more than that with
private clients. Age shouldn’t have mattered at all. There were plenty
of young people who were brilliant and truly capable in their field, and
more than enough in the older generations that were not only
incompetent, but persistently ignorant, which was a crime in and of
itself. Perhaps it was his mixed heritage. Foreigners still weren’t
entirely trusted in Japan, and being half was regarded, at least by
some, as evidence of utter betrayal. Race didn’t matter to him,
either; nor nationality (unless you were from the States), or the other
‘protected topics’ of religion, sex, political party, etc. What mattered
was motive and intent.
But there were plenty of people who never much liked listening to sense and rational thought…
…which
led him to that evening. Hakuba had come to Japan for several reasons,
the strongest of which was the assassin Spider, who had targeted a very
famous and prolific Japanese thief. The very thief that had sent the
news of the heist, for which Nakamori and his men were prepared for. At
least, as far as that stubborn fool could be prepared.
He checked his watch again. Twenty two seconds. Twenty one. Twenty. Nineteen.
As
far as the media knew, Hakuba Saguru, only child of the Superintendent
General, was in the country for one purpose only: to catch Kaitou KID.
But, true to his word, he’d already caught the ruddy bastard. By their
second interaction, he’d done what no one else had been able to do. He
knew KID’s identity.
Fifteen. Fourteen. Thirteen.
Further,
he knew his address, his height, his weight, his age, the names of his
family members and closest friends, his grades in school, the marks on
his permanent records, his blood type, his taste in food, his style of
clothing, his scent, his hobbies, the timbre of his voice.
Six. Five. Four.
He
even knew several of Kid’s facial expressions and tells. There was
irrefutable proof. Documentation. And yet, despite all of this, Kid’s
alter-ego had repeatedly refused to confess. Every accusation had been
carelessly tossed aside. Every offer to help, every clue he’d left,
every corner he’d tried to squeeze information from had yielded nothing
but insults, indifference, and irritation. Kuroba Kaito knew that Hakuba
had figured him out. He knew that Hakuba knew that he knew, and yet. And yet.
One.
But
if the detective was anything, it was persistent. There were other ways
to catch a thief, after all, and if Kid refused to cooperate as his
civilian self, Hakuba would approach it during working hours. The risk
was considerably higher for them both, but he needed answers and
cooperation. Kid’s life depended on it.
“Ladies and gentlemen!”
Showtime.
All
at once, the Kid Task Force was in action, and chaos ensued. That was
just the sort of thing that Kid relished; it made it easier for him to
steal his target and make his escape. This was also well and good for
Hakuba, who felt a secret (or not so) satisfaction that the inspector
continually failed, largely in part because he refused to listen to the
young detective. He always offered good advice, reports, and statistics,
but but the keibu wasn’t interested in listening. He never was.
Regardless, it allowed Hakuba to move about in any way that he pleased;
part of the force, technically, but also not. Just as he was Japanese
and not, all at once.
He watched and waited for the
officers to cause their disturbances, and as soon as he saw that flash
of white cape heading for higher ground, Hakuba crept after. There were
plenty of places to hide in such a large hotel, and he wasn’t about to
let him get away. The service hallways were easily the least trafficked
and the best for someone such as Kid to traipse, so he followed the path
that would let him see KID and reach the darkened hallways all at the
same time.
She tugged on my sleeve in the dark. “Come on!”
“Why?” I groaned, shuffling in protest.
“You’ll see.”
The scent of horses and hay was thick with regret and unwanted memories, and every stall another set of judgmental eyes.
“Here.” My cousin came to a stop and lifted her lantern. “Dandelion Velvetine’s first foal.”
I’d seen baby horses before. “So?”
“He’s also Gunmetal Guillotine’s last.”
Swallowing, I took another look. The mottled grey coat was just like his. “Name?”
“Gunmetal Midnight Resolution.”
I grimaced. “Seriously?”
“Look, he’s yours if you start racing again. Are you up to the challenge?”
I went to a writing party last night (at @anyahatesbunnies‘ house!) and wrote a little Christmas story during one of the sprints. It’s not going to be in the novel at all, so I thought I’d post it here. But, as usual, it’s kind of depressing, so feel free to skip. 🙂
–
–
[Salmon Coal, age 12- Lyndoch, Massachusetts]
I watched the snow from the couch, ribs pressed into the backing until it hurt to breathe. My breath fogged the glass, but it didn’t really matter; it was too dark to see past the four foot circle of light cast by the lantern even if he /was/ coming home. Sighing, I let my forehead drop against the cool pane of glass and closed my eyes.
There wasn’t a point to waiting up. Mom had given up two hours ago. The same thing happened last year, and the year before that.
“He’s working,” she’d said. “You know how it is with film production studios; they have deadlines and tight budgets. It makes it hard for them to live a normal life.”
So why, then, did he get married and have a kid? Why buy a house all the way across the country?
“Just because it’s hard doesn’t mean that he’s not human, that he doesn’t want to do those things…”
Her excuses slipped further and further away from reason and confidence. I knew she wanted to know, too.
I could get by most of the time without him. I went to school, did my homework at the library, and read until I fell asleep. I ran around with Theo and tried to help him with his grand schemes, even when they didn’t make any sense. Hell, I made sure to watch his show every week- new episodes every Thursday night -and it almost felt like he was home.
But it was Christmas eve. Or, well, Christmas now… 12:05 am… and he wasn’t here.
Who doesn’t go home for Christmas?
Who has a family and stays at work anyway?
The card he’d sent, promising that he’d be there, had been abandoned on the table long before Mom had even gone to bed.
“He probably had his assistant sign it for him.” She’d sniffed, wrinkling her nose like the card smelled rotten, and dropped it into my hands for me to look at. “Can’t even make time to sign a card… God, William…”
I let myself look at the dark driveway again- still empty -and drew a frowning face over my dim reflection. The snow was undisturbed; white and pure, unmarred by any tire tracks or footprints. If he’d come, even if he had to park on the street, I’d go out and help bring his things in. I wasn’t wearing any shoes, but that didn’t matter. I’d run.
“Dad.” I muttered, keeping my voice low just in case Mom wasn’t really asleep upstairs. “Come home.”
If you come home, I’ll forgive you.
If you come home, it’ll be okay.
Mom won’t make good on her promise of this being the last time. She won’t give up on you. I won’t, either.
There’s still time.
I settled back down on the cushions, breathing out slowly in relief when my side stopped hurting.
The snow fell, drifting in careless circles before settling down to rest with its family.
Maybe I should give up, too. If he really wasn’t coming, I could still go crawl into bed with Mom and keep her company until Christmas morning. Why was I sitting in my pajamas against the window? I was cold and stiff and my body hurt, cramped from being so still for so long.
I was tired. All of me was.
I looked to the stairs, dark except for the Christmas lights wrapped around the railing, then at the Christmas tree in the corner. Presents, wrapped by Mom and me, crowded around the trunk of our very real tree.
Did we need Dad for a merry Christmas?
Writing prompt! slash Halloween giftie because I felt like it since it’s my birthday month and I’m taking a break from commissions ^w^
–
OMG More fanart for pushpin! Thank you, Camy! It’s so cute!!! Here is what I have written to accompany it:
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Pushpin’s Halloween Night
It was cold, I remember that.
Kind of like poking your head into the fridge, with a blast of chilly air, forcing things to be cold. Actually, outside was a lot like a fridge. The grass was crunchy under my paws like the french fries that had been trapped in styrofoam. The bark of the trees was dry and stiff like Chloe’s leftover sandwich. It tasted about the same, too, except without mayo. Bleck!
It had been so long since I’d eaten… a whole three hours since I’d gotten into Chloe’s fridge…
I licked my belly to console the rumbling. The smell of food was everywhere on the grounds, but I couldn’t find it. I wandered back toward the house, letting my tail swish back and forth because it needed the practice, and watched for any more monsters. That’s why I’d left in the first place… monsters.
Not like we never had monsters here. The Linden Estate was haunted with real, live ghosts. Or, uh, not live. I guess they’re dead. Like Limerick. He’d gotten attacked and eaten by a big ol’ monster before I was paired with Chloe, so now he walked around as a ghost. I didn’t wanna be a ghost, so I stayed away from monsters.
But there they were, a big bat guy, a dog thing, a scarecrow, some kinda… I don’t even know what it was, but it was a big mess. I sat out of grabbing reach and sniffed at them to get a better idea of what they were. They smelled… familiar… somehow…
“Pushpin, I told you to stay in the house!”
My heart did somersaults and my tail started vibrating. It was– that scary-looking lady in robes was my Chloe! “Chloeee!”
I ran to her, ignoring the monsters all around us, and scrambled up her robes to get onto her shoulder. She made little sounds of protest, but that was just because I hadn’t started rubbing on her yet. But I did, purring as loud as I could, rubbing all over her cheek and ear and neck.
She put her hand between me and her face and pushed me so I had to cling to her shoulder with my claws. It wouldn’t be good to make everyone jealous of our special bond, after all. The thought made me so happy that I couldn’t stop purring.
“Pushpin! Geez, what is wrong with you?”
The other monsters laughed, and their voices were familiar, but I couldn’t place it. And even if they were going to destroy me, they were going to know my feelings! “I looove you!” I screeched, and affectionately nibbled on her hand.
“You can’t blame him, Chloe.” The dog guy said. “He is your familiar.”
“Shut up, Salmon.”
Ohhhhh. Ohhhhhhh! It was the fish guy! I crawled on top of Chloe’s head to get a better look at the rest. Oh! So the Boss was the bat guy! Then I remembered…. it was HALLOWEEN. The thing the Boss was always talking about. “HAPPY HALLOWEEN!” I yelled, making sure to include some yodeling because it always got a good reaction.
Chloe growled, which was a good sign. “Pushpin…”
But the Boss bat man took me from her shoulder and curled me up in his arms. “Yeah, it’s Halloween! Come on, I’ll give you a tour of what we have set up for the party!”
“A party?!” I squeaked. I liked the Boss man. He was always so excited, and good at petting me right between the shoulderblades.
“Theo, we don’t have time for this…” the fish man groaned. He didn’t like having fun, so I didn’t understand him very well. But he was nice, too, so he was still my friend.
The Boss showed me all of the stuff they had set up in the courtyard. There were apples under water (cruel!), cotton candy behind glass (why!), popcorn trapped in plastic (nooo!), plus lots and lots of candy in their own sealed prisons. What was this horrible thing?!
There was also something about mirrors and a corn maze but I didn’t really get it. When it was over, the Boss set me down in the pumpkin patch.
“Here,” he said. “You greet the guests and charm them with your cuteness.”
That was easy to do! And I wanted to, because he was the Boss! But Chloe always said to never work for free. I frowned. “What do I get out of it?”
Then the Boss took out a bag of popcorn from the insides of is cape somehow and opened it, scattering the pieces all over. “There! You can eat all of the popcorn that you can find!”
I wasn’t listening any more, though; I HAD TO GET THE MOVING THINGS!
There were a lot more monsters, though they might not have been, and lots more treats for me. Everyone oohed and ahhed about how cute I was, even Chloe! Basically, Halloween was the best night ever.
I don’t want to log into my writing account because I really need to clean up my follow list… but I also really want to share some writing so here you go:
From Lyndoch to Boston was thirty minutes in good traffic. She played with the radio, I told her to put her seatbelt back on. Then there was this whole ‘thanks, dad’ sarcastic comment thing and I wanted to tell her that I wasn’t a murderer, but it seemed like that would be a bad idea, so I didn’t.
Instead I said something stupid, but not nearly as insensitive.
“So I don’t know how much Theo told you about Wonder Woman and I…”
That grabbed her attention in an instant, and I kept my eyes carefully fixed on the road ahead. There were a lot of windy paths in the forest to get through before hitting the major roads.
“He said that you really liked her.”
I could tell by the sort of lilt in her voice that she was trying not to laugh at me, but still wanted to tease me. "Yeah. She was my first crush.“ That wasn’t a bad thing to mention, was it? On a date? "Do you want to know why?”
“Does it have anything to do with her being an Amazon woman who wears a belt and a bathing suit?”
“No, no, none of that…” I shook my head. It was true; her uniform had always seemed so impractical, and I just couldn’t get past it. “It’s because Batman trusts her.”
Lauriette recoiled, staring. “What the- you can’t just mix comic books like that! What are you talking about?”
“In Justice League, where all of the DC superheros team up, Batman trusts Wonder Woman. Which is saying something because he doesn’t trust anyone.”
“Wait, let me get this straight. You have a crush on Wonder Woman because a guy trusts her.”
I shrugged. “Bruce Wayne knows what he’s talking about. They were close, Bruce and Diana.”
“Diana?”
“That’s Wonder Woman’s name.”
“…really?”
“Yeah. There is a lot of support for their relationship, too, implied and otherwise.”
“Oh my GOD!” Lauriette cried, slumping in her seat, one arm over her forehead. It was almost Theo-level theatrics. “You are such a nerd! You might even be worse than my brother!”
I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, taking the next turn before trying to defend myself. “Hey, he’s way worse. At least I have the facts to back up my argument.”
“No, that’s WHY you’re worse.” She laughed into her hand, nudging my leg with her foot. “Oh my god. I’ve never been on a date with a certified comic geek before.”
Frowning, I pulled my foot just out of reach, leg twisted awkwardly to still reach the pedal.
I thought everyone liked Batman.