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At this rate, it’ll be a miracle if I complete this challenge in time for this Christmas. You know what else is a miracle? This update, which has taken me a solid six months to write. Six months! That’s half a year! Thanks to everyone who kept reading and leaving comments even when it must’ve seemed hopeless. This chapter is for you guys:
Highlights from Sarah’s fifth to eight year traveling with the Goblin King, with significantly more focus on personal matters rather than their travels.
On this, the eve of me going to see Infinity War and losing what little emotional stability I have, please have the last chapter of my long-overdue post-Civil War fic.
It’s been a month since Steve and Natasha agreed to give each other some time and space to process the fallout from the Accords and the mess that followed.
Holy cow, this fic is almost over. After more than four months, I present to you: chapter five of my LBD mini-sequel. The epilogue should be up later this week, but for now:
“Oh come on, you guys didn’t really think I would try to figure this out without my bestie, did you? Charlotte, do your thing.”
        “Gladly. Her name is Lizzie Bennet, and she’s in denial. Again.”
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What’s this? An update just ten short days after the last one?? Truly, no one is more surprised than I am. Anyway here’s chapter four of my LBD fic.
“Part of growing up means realizing that no matter how hard you try, you can't make everyone like you. And that's okay, because there are some people out there you won't like either.”
“My name is Lizzie Bennet, and why the hell is Caroline Lee on her way to see me?”
Hey look, it’s the long-overdue sequel to my 2015 Ultron fix-it fic.
The one where Steve gives Natasha all the time and space in the world, because he's a good… friend like that. (And maybe he needs a little time and space too.)
So apparently at some point in Ragnarok’s development, Taika planned to give Thor a tattoo commemorating Loki’s death. Sadly that didn’t pan out but thanks to this post from @thegestianpoet, I’ve written y’all a crack fic about it. This is set sometime after AoU, but before all the other movies.
Things tend to get wild in Avengers Tower whenever Thor breaks out the Asgardian mead. Tonight: Thor mourns Loki yet again, Stark suggests something stupid, and Steve is too much of a sleepy drunk to stop them from making a huge mistake.
Relevant: Clint has a tattoo gun in his suite, for some reason.
Also available on AO3.
There’s a reason Natasha never joins the guys when they break out the Asgardian mead, but Steve is about thismuch too drunk to recall what that reason is.
Maybe it’s the arm wrestling that takes up the entire first hour of the evening, and the enthusiastic CHUG! CHUG! CHUG! Clint and Stark start chanting when Steve loses to Thor and is presented with a tankard full of mead.
Maybe it’s the stupid dares and destructive ideas they come up with in their second hour, like Tony asking Thor to summon Mjolnir from his suite three floors away just to see how the hammer would get there. (Mjolnir takes the most direct path, leaving matching holes in all three floors it crashed through on its way to Thor.)
But by the third hour they’ve mostly calmed down, and really, Natasha’s missing out on a pretty great evening and some incredible mead. Tony and Clint are sprawled out on opposite sofas, mead sloshing from their overfilled tankards as they trade witty barbs back and forth. Steve himself is standing by the window, taking in the sights of the city at night; everything’s spinning just the tiniest bit, but the carousel effect only makes the city that much more alive, as if it’s living and breathing and bustling about just like its inhabitants.
And Thor…
Thor is…
“Oh, shit,” Steve mutters to himself. Thor is curled up in a corner of the kitchen, mostly hidden from view by the island, quietly weeping to himself. If Steve were a betting man (and he’s fast becoming one, thanks to the company he keeps), he’d bet a solid grand that this is about Loki. Again.
“Hey, buddy,” he says gently, sliding down to join the thunder god on Stark’s kitchen floor. “Is everything okay?”
Thor sniffs, a wet, shuddering sound that draws the other two’s attention. “He- he wasn’t a bad person,” he tells Steve shakily. “Sure, he was genocidal and insane and a murderer but we all go through that phase, right?”
“Um…” Tony hovers just three steps away, his face scrunched up into a frown. “Some of us go through less extreme phases but sure, we all make mistakes as teenagers.”
“He was so young!” Thor wails at Stark’s mention of teenagers, burying his head in his hands.
Clint’s brows draw together in confusion. “Wait, aren’t you two the same-”
Steve shakes his head at the archer. Just don’t, he mouths as he hesitantly reaches out and places a hand on Thor’s shoulder.
“He had so much growing up to do, so much room for change! For improvement! Surely in time Father would have banished him to Midgard the way I was, and he would have grown from it the way I did, and he would have been a good person,” Thor insists. “Or maybe he always was a good person. He- he- he sacrificed himself for me,” He tells them all for what must be the twentieth time, choking on a sob as he speaks.
“Yeah, we know,” Tony mutters. “You’ve only told us three fucking million times.”
“Come, friends,” Thor reaches forward clumsily and tugs at Clint’s leg, then Tony’s. “Come gather by the hearth and relive the tale of Loki the Brave, Loki the Redeemed, Loki dead on Svartalfheim all by himself all alone by the stars how could I have left him there-” His voice grows higher and higher in pitch until it actually hurts Steve’s serum-enhanced and mead-sensitive hearing, prompting him to wince as Thor dissolves into full-on sobbing.
“Hey, Thor!” Tony cuts in, leaning down to look his wailing friend in the eye. “Here on Earth we have this way of honoring our loved ones. Maybe that’ll help you, huh?”
Clint eyes Tony warily. “Stark, what are you-”
Tony shushes him as he sits down next to Thor, cross-legged and tankard still in hand. “It’s called a tattoo. It’s a permanent mark on your skin, so that you can carry Loki and his big sacrificial gesture with you always. How does that sound, Point Break? Good idea?”
Thor’s sobs die down as he considers Tony’s suggestion. “That-” He hiccups as he wipes his tears away with the back of his hand. “That is truly beautiful, friend Stark. A most fitting tribute for my brother the hero,” His voice breaks on the last word, and the other three collectively hold their breath for a moment. Thankfully, he doesn’t start crying again.
“Steve!” Thor hiccups, whipping his head around so fast the ends of his hair lash at Tony’s face. “Is this truly a Midgardian custom? Do you honor your fallen on your skin?”
When his mother died, Steve wanted more than anything to commemorate her somehow, to carry her memory on the body she gave him, the body she fought so hard to keep safe and fed and healthy. Bucky wouldn’t let him, of course, came up with some horror story about that kid down the road who got an infection and I love ya, Steve, but we both know you can’t take another infection hey no that wasn’t a challenge Steve where do you think you’re going-
“Yeah,” He tells Thor, who’s staring at him with what he’s pretty sure Natasha would call puppy eyes. “Yeah, we do that.”
“Then it is decided!” Thor jumps up to his feet, nearly knocking Steve and Tony over as he does. He produces a tankard out of nowhere and raises it in a toast. “To Loki!”
After five seconds of silence, he casts bewildered eyes upon the other three and gestures impatiently for them to get up and join his toast. They toast Loki, and then tattoos, and then heroes, and he’s pretty sure at some point they all raise a glass to Fury for some reason–
The point is, by the time they’re done toasting, even Steve is absolutely sloshed. Which is probably why he doesn’t do anything to stop the others when Thor wonders out loud where one goes to obtain a tattoo and Clint volunteers to do it.
Distantly, he hears Clint yelling “BE RIGHT BACK!” and Tony calling after him, “Why the hell do you have a tattoo gun IN MY TOWER, BIRDBOY?!”
Something heavy begins to tug on Steve’s eyelids. A voice, one that sounds strangely like Natasha’s, tells him he’s forgetting something, there’s something he should do or say right about now–
But he’s already asleep.
The next morning Thor has “LOKI R.I.P” tattooed on his forearm in surprisingly legible penmanship, and Steve remembers exactly why Natasha stays the hell away from them when there’s Asgardian mead involved.
This is months and months late, I don’t even wanna know exactly how late. It’s just embarrassing at this point. Anyway, here’s chapter three of Act II, a mini-series set seven years after LBD.
“And just because said lady was spotted being dropped off by her… partner? Ex? Estranged husband? Whatever. Just because said lady was spotted with a certain individual this morning doesn’t mean everyone’s allowed to jump to conclusions and feed the rumor mill.”
“My name is Lizzie Bennet, and it is totally normal for exes to have breakfast meetings–”
This is like... 43 days late, I think. At this rate, it’s going to take me another three months to finish this silly “Sarah and Jareth go road-tripping across the Universe” fic. Anyway, here’s Chapter 2:
Highlights from Sarah’s first four years of travelling with her former-nemesis-turned-tour-guide.
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We’re ten days into the new year and I’m only now posting one of the fourteen things I was supposed to post last year. Disappointment, thy name is Eleanor. Anyway, here’s some Loki/Sif angst because these two can never be happy for long.
A tale of love, heartache, reunions, separations, more heartache, and possibly some closure, as chronicled by Sif's wardrobe choices. (No, really.)
It’s past midnight where I am right now, which means I’ve officially survived 2017. It’s been... a challenging year. Not the worst, but far from the best. My workload’s been crazy, I can slowly feel my depression creeping back into my life, and I’m going through a rough patch with some of the most important people in my life.Â
Whenever things were particularly rough for me, my mother and grandmother would remind me of this idea Chinese people apparently have: that bad luck comes in finite bouts, and that sometimes the universe just wants you to get it all out of the way so that it’ll be smooth sailing for the next few months or so. I’m not usually one for this kind of stuff but... I really, really hope that’s the case, and that I’ve left it all behind in 2017. And if you’ve been going through a tough time too, I hope you’ve also exhausted all of your bad luck for now. I hope the worst is behind us all, and that 2018 will give us all whatever it is we’ve been searching for.
That being said... loathe as I am to drag unfinished 2017 business into my fresh start, I will be working on the rest of my Advent Calendar Challenge pieces. I’m only up to Day 11 right now, so expect another 14 one-shots/sequels/chapters from me in the next few weeks. The goal is to be done by January 25th, exactly a month after my original self-imposed deadline. We’ll see how that goes.
For now: HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYONE! Here’s hoping 2018 will bring all of us more love, happiness, peace, and inspiration.
So Christmas has come and gone and I’m not even halfway through my challenge. Anyway, here’s a Labyrinth fic I was supposed to post on December 11th.
As Champion of the Labyrinth, Sarah is given one wish - no strings attached, no hidden repercussions, no consequences that will haunt her and her family for the rest of their lives. She chooses to spend the next thirteen years exploring the hundreds and thousands of worlds the Labyrinth is connected to.
No strings, no repercussions, no consequences - just one condition: the Goblin King is to accompany her on all her travels.
This is an astounding nine - NINE!! - days late but here, have the second chapter of my Lizzie Bennet Diaries mini-sequel.
“I’m surrounded by mugs of tea, there are two adorable three-year-olds sleeping upstairs, and a certain someone is making fresh snickerdoodles as we speak. This might just be my favorite place in the whole wide world.”
“My name is Lizzie Bennet, and welcome to the Bennet-Lee home!”
UPDATE: I am now a full week behind on this (that’s what a particularly bad flu and some unexpected work will do to your writing schedule, I guess) but yes, I’m still gonna try to catch up. I’ll probably fail miserably, but watch me try anyway.
Also, I’m still taking requests/prompts so feel free to hit up my inbox. Hopefully I’ll get inspired by something and it’ll get me writing again.
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It’s only Day 9 and I’ve already written four Miraculous Ladybug pieces. Truly, I am as surprised as any of you. Anyway, here’s Chapter 5 of my stand-alone one-shot collection of reveals.
Chat Noir has a dream. Ladybug thinks it’s the best dream ever.
It’s Day 8! Two days late, as per usual, but here it is anyway. Today we have a messy one-shot about Alex and Strand and talking flowers, courtesy of my flu-addled mind.
Doctor Strand has two appointments for the rest of the day: one is a patient who suffers from delusions, and the other is a reporter here to talk about his latest book. Which one is Alex Reagan?
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