Looking for a fic series about parenting and family with enough queerness, trans & nonbinary characters, disability, mental health issues, and kinky polyamory to choke a horse? Look no further! The Alabanza-verse is a Voltron: Legendary Defender S4 canon AU (because I started writing it back in early 2017) future-fic series about all those things and more. The Alabanza series centers around Keith, Lance, and their kids. The How the Dead Live series centers around Matt, Shiro, and Allura; it takes place in the Alabanza-verse, but can be read as a standalone series on its own. Current WIP fic is Atlas, involving Matt's adventures in trying to heal from two truly terrible decades through tabletop roleplay games, kink, a pet lizard named Cat, and hopefully some goddamn therapy.

( ALABANZA SERIES )

 

( HOW THE DEAD LIVE SERIES )

  Rating: Explicit

Word Count: currently 143k

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Pairings: Matt/Shiro, Shiro/Allura, Matt/Shiro/Allura

Tags: Future Fic, Sadism, Masochism, PTSD, Long-Distance Relationship, Epistolary, BDSM, Sub Sharing, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Better Living and Psychological Healing Through Kinky Polyamory, Agender Character, Nonbinary Character, VLD is a war story that doesn't want to be a war story, Sibling Relationships, Trauma Recovery, Substance Abuse, Aromantic Character, Bisexual Character, Aromantic Relationship, Romantic Relationship, Canon Disabled Character, Mental Health Issues, Alien Gender/Sexuality, Alien Culture, Polyamory, Non-Equilateral Triangle, Threesome - F/M/M, Relationship Negotiation, Metamours, Politics, No Goats This Time But There is a Lizard, This is Actually a Happy Story I Promise

Warnings: See end notes for each chapter.

Summary: this is a callout post @ mattholt

#you know why

Along the way to becoming a person again, Matt acquires a Cat, a crop, a Plan, two long distance relationships, a taste for the local tabletop roleplay game, and reluctantly, friends.

Chapter 13 is live! Read it on Ao3.

This is part of the How the Dead Live series, a sub-series taking place in the Alabanza 'verse.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 20k

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Pairings: Shiro/Allura, Matt/Shiro (secondary)

Tags: Established Relationship, Future Fic, Kid Fic, BDSM, D/s, Gender Issues, Consent Issues, Politics, Agender Character, Canon Disabled Character, Royalty Roleplay, Oviposition, Collars, Better Living and Psychological Healing Through Kinky Polyamory, Alien Gender/Sexuality, Alien Culture, The Tags Make This Fic Sound Like It Has a Very Different Plot Than It Does, Polyamory, Alien Biology, Family Issues, Parenthood, Come for the Kinky Smut Stay for the Politics, To Be Clear This is Not Mpreg

Warnings: See end notes.

Summary: "This should have been gold," Allura murmurs as she fastens the collar around Shiro's throat. "Solid gold, warm to the touch. That's what you would have had, had you been my imperial consort."

Shiro and Allura both want things that they're not supposed to want. Shiro, surprisingly, is the one who's okay with that.

Read it on Ao3.

I'm not sure if I'm too happy about how this turned out - Ruby is a very difficult character to write right - but I'm posting it anyway.


XENIZATION
Supernatural; Ruby/Lilith, R.



( Some come from the cities, bodies stuffed into moth-eaten coats, dragging suitcases tied together with string. )

Before we get to the sex, I have a funny story to tell you guys. I think I first encountered fanpoetry about spring of 2008. Needless to say, I was completely blown away that someone - more than one person! - had the talent to actually write fanfiction in poetic form. Wouldn't that be cool if I could do that? I wondered, and then immediately thought: oh, don't be stupid. That'll never happen.

It's a good thing no one in authority listens to my predictions, that's for sure.

So: Supernatural free verse of the Dean/Castiel variety and a very definite R-rating. And yes, the title does refer to the sexual position. In fact... sex, death, eating, orgasm, implosion, possession, language, sixty-nineing - I think I hit them all. But non-squicking, unless you're freaked out by blowjobs.

Somewhat related but not addressed in the poem - as far as death goes, Cas is in a pretty unique place, isn't he? Because angels are (barring being murdered) immortal, and so I would think death would be an incredibly foreign concept to them - not just foreign, but weird, in a way that human death... isn't, as much as we'd like to think so. But Castiel died (and was then brought back); I wonder if this affected his perceptions of humans any? In many ways - powers, relationships, dying - I feel as if he's becoming more and more Anna's obverse, alike and yet not. But maybe that's just me.


69

( Love is the natural oblivion for us, not death: / the finality of utter consumption, as planets / are eaten by their suns, a tongue transposed by fire / into a thousand-part harmony of gravity and rock. )

Writing characters, you realize things you never knew about them before. For me, wrestling this one down? My Teyla is fierce!

I was never much into Teyla/Kate, but I read some of thingswithwings' stuff and was intrigued. Not to mention, the canon - though I don't think we feel the full impact of Kate on Teyla's life until her absence, it's obvious that she means something to Teyla, as she reacts more strongly to her death than to any number of dead friends and coworkers during her stay on Atlantis. I might write more of this pairing; I don't know. As I see it, their relationship could either go very badly or very well, because like every psychologist I know, Kate's bound to be good at both waffle and diagnosing others' problems, and I think it was seperis who said, Teyla's not in touch with her own emotions as much as sympathetic to the emotions of others. And unlike McKay and Sheppard, they don't have an absence of tact as much as far too much of it. So they could either be functional and communicative, or vastly problematic, as they're so caught up in that careful diplomacy that neither is sure what exactly is real, never mind how to express it. I chose to portray the latter choice.

Housekeeping time: Title from the Nancy Elizabeth song, which for some reason I think fits Teyla to a T, even though it really doesn't. Also, this is for the "First Times" spot on my cliche_bingo card. The Quick Bird on Hot Sand, I believe, came from Icarus.



BATTLE AND VICTORY
SGA; R. Teyla/Kate.

( Read more... )

Behold: my latest failure, aka the mcshep_match drabble that ate Tokyo. As you may have guessed from that introduction, it is, eh, slightly longer than allowed - about 500% bigger - and so cannot be posted on their very cool drabble tree, which is a shame, because I think it's a very cool and creepy follow-up to a previous drabble (in case you're interested, it's this PEACE one).

people don't win wars. wars win wars.

The light is cold here. On the outer edges, where undertide and current flow, the walls are being eaten by the ocean salt. They have, perhaps, a thousand years left; more, if the shields were expanded. They're at minimal levels for now, edges sacrificed to save the center, the critical areas only: gate-room, power-station, stasis room and the man it holds. Between life support, shields, and the AI, the ZPM has, perhaps, ten thousand years left. Less, if the shields are expanded. Something must - 0000011101. Something must go. It's Atlantis or her prodigal son; Isaac and Abraham, struggling to tie each other to the altar. Each vying for more time, more time. A year more of survival. Two. Trapping each other in mazes and looping codes, in echoes of echoes. One disintegrates while the other survives, and Rodney and his city battle it out in silence. He's winning, so far. And that's important, because every minute is a chance someone will rediscover the city, time for a cure to be found. Because the thing is - the thing is -

The thing is, he's pretty sure he existed, once. Pretty sure he loved, and occasionally hated, and was more than this eternal game of cat-and-mouse, this cruel either/or, architecture or anatomy. He's as much a machine as the city. He can feel what he's doing to her. She's been quiet for a while, though - hiding somewhere in the control room. The bulk of her processing is in essential sections, or he would have - 010. He would have cut her shields and left her to the sea. Should probably check server AR-940, just in case. Must remember that; very important thing. Because the thing is - one slip and he's - one slip and -

He does remember. Must remember; very important. A comfort he could still - 10110011110. Still give. "I remember," his subroutines would say. If he were anything more than a whisper of light and code, he would reach past the glass - mouth to mouth, breathing out, thumb sweeping over the angry lines of infection running under the skin. He gave up ascension for this: to protect the last known carrier of the Wraith's virus, their final revenge, their time bomb sunken under the sea.

It seemed a fair trade. Food and sleep and sex, to be able to remember - to remember John, when no one else would. To hold that knowledge, share it, read himself out like a book to whomever could help. He carries instructions for - 001011. For the stasis chamber, John's medical records, all the research they'd had on the Wraith virus, anything that could help, and underneath, in hidden files and encrypted video: more whispers, of video golf and rings. A moment of joy, high in the atmosphere. Strong hands. A machine's memory of hot sheets and skin on skin. (And the thing - the thing he has to remember is - )

He's the bible of John; genesis and revelations both.

...And here's the lgbtfest entry, on the following prompt: #68 - Any fandom, any characters, An everyday moment in someone's queer life that's more significant than Coming Out or First Kiss or even Getting Married.

I don't know if I liked how it turned out, exactly - the Bad has set in, and writer's block is the order of the day - but for a last-ditch effort it's none too bad. (Fun fact, people: I actually finished it on time, that is, by 12AM WED 22. I just went out to celebrate finishing it - without actually posting it. D'oh. Do I win the literary Darwin awards or what?)

ETA: Upon further reflection, I believe the line about the Monty Python skit may belong to someone else. Sorry, hypothetical person! If anyone figures out who it is, let me know.



LUNG.
Biro; McKay/Sheppard. PG-13.

( Read more... )

Picture this:

Rodney McKay, playing the first few bars of Nina Simone's "Black Is the Color of My True Love's Hair" (download link provided, of course). That not enough for you? Picture this, then:

There is a piano. In Atlantis, perhaps; in Jeannie's house; in an empty auditorium, dust on the lid, even the sunlight there secretive and strange. Where it is, though, this is not actually important; nor is his reason for being there with it. There is a piano - that is enough.

He sits. Hunched, mouth turned downwards. He is not sure whether to be happy, or sad, or if what he feels is D, none of the above, the third answer in a true/false question, which is to say, indescribable, not that it will keep him from trying. Perhaps John is there; perhaps he is not. Someone is, though. Someone should be there to witness this.

Pencils at the ready; begin. He will start lightly, almost tentatively, like shaking hands with an old friend - it's been so long, after all, and he's not really sure where he stands with the piano - but stronger with every note, a crescendo of movement and sound - faster, faster, harder - until he's pounding at the keyboard, mouth tight, eyes bright. His back muscles clench; he leans into the keys. He feels the music like the time AR-1 almost got caught in a imanam, a rockslide, on MX4-829: the sheer impatience and power of it, as if nothing could stop the rocks' descent, like this tumble was written into the basecode - nay, the bones of the land, somehow essential to the existence of it. Absolutely terrifying, of course. Completely inevitable.

He could have died from that. Considers this, and pounds on, fingers slick on the keys. He thinks he could die from this, too.

Reposted for posterity, and because heroes_exchange has a bloody age filter. To be honest, I'd rather avoid debate about the effectiveness and purpose of those things - it comes too close to morals for me - but on a purely practical level, it's annoying as hell. And yes, I realize that every system has its flaws, but does it not seem a little ridiculous when the author is locked out of her own fic?

Also, I missed the Sekrit Cabal Ficlet Battle 4.0. I am rather disappointed about this.

Housekeeping: 'twas written on the prompt "ghosts", for themollyedge. Title from Secret Garden's "Sleepsong".


with diamonds and pearls at your head and your feet
adam / hiro / ando, adam / yaeko, hiro / yaeko, ando / oc
heroes; r-whateva. au past 2.11 Powerless.

( Read more... )