#dexstarrfic

my good intentions get bad:  It all starts because of Tumblr.

Catra comes back early from another failure of a date. Her fifth in the last month, but who’s counting? (She is. She’s got a whole bujo layout devoted to the fail dates, so she doesn’t fall for their sweet talk a second time. She’s already gone through one red Sharpie Pen.)

She’s back earlier than she should be, and so maybe that’s why her roommate’s laptop is open with no sight of Adora hunched over it. The usually crisp white sheets on Adora’s bed are rumpled, her laptop left hanging off the edge of the mattress, a familiar blue background snatching Catra’s attention. The shower sounds from the ensuite they share with the room next door, the screensaver isn’t protecting Adora’s privacy, so—Catra snoops.

(Read the rest on AO3) 

I swear this is my last post about 2017 fics! I was tagged by @banshee-cheekbones (thank you! 💖) and have been meaning to do this for a while.

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 favorite works you’ve created this year (fics, art, edits, etc!) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you’ve brought into the world in 2017. Tag as many writers/artists/etc as you want (fan or original!) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works.

1. cubic zirconia to cardinal gem (Hannibal crossover, Bedelia Du Maurier/Clarice Starling, G, 1.5k words): My first crossover fic ever! I really like the structure I came up with for the fic, as one of my favorite things about fic writing is experimenting with ways to tell the story. I also really like these two together. True story, I was listening to Silence of the Lambs while working on something else, was suddenly inspired, read the book, and started this all in one crazy night. 

2. not one single further sorrow (Hannibal, Alana Bloom/Bedelia Du Maurier, T, 6k words): This was supposed to be short 5 times fic that kept growing and growing and growing. One version of a fix-it fic to give Alana and Bedelia a happy ending equals a very long one-shot for me. I don’t know why, but ever since getting into the Hannibal fandom, my fics have become length monsters. 

3. Under Her Dark Veil (Hannibal, Bedelia Du Maurier/Hannibal Lecter, M, 1.6k words): Writing these two is always difficult but (hopefully) worth it in the end. Here I wrote one chapter from each perspective, building off one of my favorite scenes, where Hannibal is in Bedelia’s shower and then they fly away together. I had trouble with this fic until I switched the perspectives. Funny how that works sometimes.

4. Reluctant (Hannibal, Chiyoh/Bedelia Du Maurier, G, 250 words): How can I not mention this little drabble? It fits into this massive AU I’ve created where Bedelia and Chiyoh have adopted Abigail. This AU took over my life in 2017 (and into 2018). It’s been a fun and agonizing challenge to figure out how different everyone might be without season 3. I love my AU so much, and this drabble is a teeny tiny window into the insanity of it.

5. open hand or closed fist (Riverdale, Penelope Blossom/Alice Cooper, E, 650 words): This was supposed to be a 250 word drabble. Oops. Whenever I get into a new fandom, I invariably prefer the older characters to the main young ones. How could I not ship these two? I desperately need to watch season 2 so I can catch up and write more about them. 

I’m late on doing a roundup for 2017, but oh well. I used to do these end-of-the-year summaries on LJ, and I enjoy looking back at them. 

I wrote a lot more this year than I have in a long time, and that’s mainly thanks to the Bedannibal and femslash corners of Hannibal. 💗 

not one single further sorrow:

Alana stands outside Hannibal’s door, trying to summon the courage to walk inside. Even from the porch, she can hear grunts of pain and the dull thud of fists. If Hannibal really is the Chesapeake Ripper, she could be walking into a nightmare of carnage. She squeezes her phone so hard the edges cut into her fingers, 911 ready to dial as soon as she knows for sure what’s happening.

Only her worry for Will, and for Jack, moves her feet closer to the door.

A low voice floats out of the darkness, carrying over the worrying sounds inside. “Do not go into the house, Dr. Bloom.”

Alana gasps and jumps, free hand diving into her purse, where her gun is hidden. Adrenaline spikes her blood at the surprise of finding someone else here. Someone who knows her.

Once the woman steps out of the shadows, the blonde hair is a dead giveaway.

Under Her Dark Veil

The noise of the shower reminds Bedelia of the early days, when they stole moments after sessions and learned everything they could about each other, insatiable in the ways new lovers are. He had her in that very shower once, back pressed against the cold glass while he devoured the heat between her legs.

She always did like him on his knees.

When he comes out of the bathroom, face buried in her towel, Bedelia unnecessarily cocks the hammer of her gun. He doesn’t seem surprised to see her, but the dramatic touch reminds him who’s in charge in the sanctuary of her bedroom.

(Read the rest on AO3)

her sweetened breath, her tongue so mean:

Hermione goes to the Whyte Wyrm on a dare, and, ignoring every set of eyes on her, saunters right up to the bar and orders a beer. Being in the Southside, in the middle of a bar full of bikers—it’s kind of thrilling, even if it is barely two o’clock. The danger is less but it’s still there.

The beer doesn’t come from the grizzled bartender. He shakes his head and walks away, showing his Serpents jacket. Hermione’s staring at the green snake, wondering if she should pull down the neck of her t-shirt and use her assets, when a blonde head pops up from behind the bar. “Slumming?”

“No. I’m … experimenting.”

Alice leans on the bar top, Hermione’s beer dangling carelessly in her hand. “Uh huh. Hiram dared you, didn’t he?”

“No.”

“You’re lying.”

Whisky Sweet:

Three months to the day after Bedelia returns to Baltimore, she finds Chiyoh in her home office. Even in a robe, hair loose about her shoulders, her only sign of surprise at finding Chiyoh in Hannibal’s old chair is to pause in the doorway.

“I caged him.”

Hannibal has been in his new home for weeks already, but there’s something final about the way Chiyoh says it, as if she’s taken care of his loose ends. Bedelia suddenly feels sick and wonders if she is the last one.

“Where does that leave you?” she asks, voice calm.

open hand or closed fist

The first time they touch in twenty years, it’s Penelope’s hand cracking against Alice’s cheek. (It’s an accurate snapshot of their history.)

The first time they kiss in twenty years, it’s hidden in the bathroom, a throwback to Alice’s Southside days. (She liked to drag Penelope in the mud, to besmirch her high class ways.)

Penelope’s like goddamn Blossom maple syrup aged in bourbon barrels, more complex and bitter than she was in high school. And richer, in money and taste, but that goes without saying.