I'm back! Well, technically, we are back. My favourite person to write with ever @eliottmoon and me finally have a project together again!
It started last May, when we decided to watch the Bayverse Transformers. Not the first time we saw them, not the first time we talked about the possibility of writing a fic. But this time, the stars aligned and we actually started writing.
And we're very excited that the first chapter of the first fic of our new series is finally posted! So if you like my writing, go check it out! I do my best work when working with Eliott, if I say so myself.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Eventually, It Will Be Okay - a continuation of first movie, that ignores the last few minutes of it. Because after the events of Mission City, the military is not letting Sam, Mikaela, or Lennox and his men just leave.
Come with us on the exciting journey of dealing with trauma, befriending autobots and maybe, eventually, finding true love. Though the slow burn is really slow, we really love it so far.
The plan is to post one chapter every Thursday. We're really excited to share this one.
Harrison Slytherin is back for his fourth year at Hogwarts!
But as always, first comes summer. And this time around, he's spending a week with the Finch-Fletchleys before seeing the Quidditch World Cup Finals right there in England!
And, of course, the school year. But surely there is nothing happening at Hogwarts during the 1994/95 school year... right?
(There's a reason why he gets to make some foreign friends during this school year, after all.)
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
See? I told you that Harrison Slytherin is not dead!
After three and a half years, I am back with more than 260k words across 25 chapters. Come join me for Harry's fourth year over the next 25 weeks! You'll meet some familiar faces as well as new ones (oh, Sandra creates more and more OCs, what else is new?) and will get to enjoy another semi-normal Hogwarts year.
Harry isn't the Boy Who Lived (not to the public, anyway) - does that mean that he'll get to enjoy the Triwizard Tournament without fearing for his life? Only one way to find out!
I know, I know - one more year has passed and still no news on my little Harry Potter re-write. But I've been surprisingly productive on that front latley, so hopefully this really is the last update you'll get from me before I am ready to upload the next school year.
And what do I have so far? A whooping 233k words, so once I actually manage to finish it, edit it and post it, there should be plenty to read before the drought comes back. As for how am I doing story-wise, I am writing a scene in the second half of June 1995, so I am really hoping to be done with the school year before long.
However, there is a lot of editing in my future, so please, don't get your hope too up. Still, I am mostly optimistic about not needing to write another post in a year for fourth anniversary.
And as a little treat, I have a small surprise for you under the cut once again. Hopefully it won't disappoint.
Love, Sandra
Harry is not happy about being in the uniform on a Sunday, but this time he understands it. There are two other schools coming and since this meeting is at least semi-formal, school uniforms for everyone involved makes sense. It even makes sense for everyone to stand with their own house and by their grades. If nothing else, first years in the front means that they might even see something. What that something is going to be, on the other hand…
“How do you think they are coming?” Harry asks quietly once they’re all piled in front of the school. He has Pansy to one side of him and Draco on the other. Theo stands next to Draco with Blaise next to him and on the other side of Pansy are the girls. The fifth years are right behind them with the prefects standing at the ends of their rows and the third years are in front of them. Daniel took his place in front of Theo and Harry smiled when he saw it, unsure whether Daniel did it on purpose or just absently.
“In a flashy way, certainly,” Pansy grumbles a bit, obviously displeased how… common their display is. But then again, they’re already here and it’s hard to make an impression that way. “Maybe by water?” But she sounds uncertain as she glances at the Great Lake. Harry slowly nods.
“It would make sense, wouldn’t it? The river leads straight to the sea, doesn’t it?”
Pansy shrugs just when Dumbledore speaks up.
“Ah! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!”
With one last look towards the lake (where nothing happens), Harry looks towards the Forbidden Forest while Draco looks up, Pansy following his lead a beat after him. Excitement rolls throughout the student body, but while the Slytherins and Ravenclaws are busy looking around, Hufflepuffs whisper among themselves and Gryffindors outright yell. Luckily, Harry is so far away from Gryffindors that he doesn’t understand what they’re saying.
“There!” Draco whispers, excited, and all the people around them check to see where he’s looking. Harry catches it just when it soars above the forest, the dark shape of it quickly soaring to the ground in between them and the forest. It’s a big, powder-blue, horse-drawn carriage pulled by a dozen Abraxans. Harry can’t help his awed look as the carriage draws close. A number of first years jump back when it comes hurling towards the students, but the Abraxans touch down and then with a thud the carriage lands and they stop just in time to be perfectly positioned in front of the Hogwarts students.
A young man in pale blue robes jumps off the carriage and unstraps a set of golden stairs that unfold from the carriage. Then he steps back a bit and out of the carriage steps the tallest, biggest woman Harry has ever seen. Dressed in black satin, her tan face looks towards Hogwarts with her dark eyes, her hair drawn back into a simple, but elegant bun.
She steps out of the carriage and stays looking at them. Then Dumbledore starts to clap and Harry hesitantly joins him. He hoped there would be a better greeting for their guests than this muggle way of showing awe.
“My dear Madame Maxime,” Dumbledore says happily as he steps closer to her. And Dumbledore is not a short man, but as this Madame Maxime hands him her hand, he hardly needs to bend to kiss it.
“A half-giant?” Pansy asks in bewilderment. Harry frowns but doesn’t look at her.
“Well, she is the headmistress of Beauxbatons,” Draco says carefully as Madame Maxime exchanges pleasantries with Dumbledore in heavily accented English. “And although I am not fond of Hagrid, he is not… giant-ish.”
“There’s not much about cross-species breeding,” Harry hears Theo say softly, obviously not wanting anyone to overhear, “but there is some evidence that when it comes to wizard-giantess breeding, the child though looking… unusually big is more like a wizard than a giant. And she is the headmistress. It will be fine.”
He doesn’t sound entirely sure of it himself, but Harry is still glad for the vote of confidence.
Harry keeps an ear on the niceties exchanged between the two heads of schools, but most of his attention is turned towards the handful of students who exited the carriage after Madame Maxime. There’s about twenty of them, all in robes or, in cases of girls, dresses with short capes in pastel colours. There are five different colours of these… uniforms; pale blue that the boy that opened the carriage for Madame Maxime wore, mint green, pale pink, light violet, and light yellow. Three girls also have matching scarfs draped over their heads, hiding their hair, and Harry is a bit surprised to see that. Isn’t hair a source of pride for witches?
There are also two adults standing with these students, a man and a woman, both wearing something similar to their students, though it’s obviously not uniform. The woman is wearing a blue dress with long sleeves reaching almost to her ankles. The dress is dark blue, and her light brown hair is tucked into a fancy hairstyle at the skull of her head with a delicate-looking headband making it a touch fancier. The man has short blonde hair and blue robes that manage to be lighter than the woman’s dress yet darker than the blue of the uniform of their students. Harry’s eyes stray towards him and a student in a pale blue dress with platinum hair. She fidgets a bit with a loose strand of silvery hair, the rest of which is braided in a half-circle at the lower part of her head, with tiny white flowers woven into it. It takes considerable effort for Harry to pull his attention away from them.
Madame Maxime accepts Dumbledore’s offer to go warm up in the castle, which gives them some moments before Durmstrang arrives. Harry leans closer to Pansy.
“Have you seen the scarfs?”
Pansy frowns a bit as she glances at him before looking around again. The whole student body is a little louder than before, everyone talking either about the Beauxbatons students or how Durmstrang is possibly coming.
“I’ve heard about that. Apparently, it’s something about religion?”
By Pansy’s confused voice, Harry guesses the religion in question is muggle. That makes him frown as well.
“How many muggle religions are there?”
Pansy smirks and shrugs, but as she opens her mouth Harry frowns and raises his hand, stopping her from speaking. He swears he can hear something…
Darkness fell slowly, so that now Harry almost can’t see the Dark Lake. But he swears that he can hear a sound coming from there.
And of course, that’s when the whirlpool in the Great Lake starts. Harry and Pansy take a second to smirk at each other, before they turn their attention to the lake just in time to watch a great ship rise from the water. It looks somewhat ghostly and makes shivers run down Harry’s spine, but it still looks majestic.
In a few minutes they can all hear the splash of an anchor being thrown in the shallows and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank. Soon after, they watch the Durmstrang students disembark. There’s also around twenty of them and as they walk up their way to the Hogwarts students, they all seem to have wide shoulders and figure to match it, but as they come closer it becomes obvious that it’s just an illusion created by their furry coats.
There is just one figure that looks slim and elegant from far away. And when they come close enough to recognize them, it’s obvious that it is the headmistress. Her coat looks sleeker and more fitted, but she does have the same warm hat as everyone else.
“Professor Dumbledore,” she curtly nods at him as she steps closer to him, her voice a little rough, but commanding respect. She offers her hand and Dumbledore grasps her forearm in greeting.
“Professor Kopachesky,” Dumbledore smiles at her, his eyes twinkling. “Welcome to Hogwarts!”
“It’s warmer than we were expecting this time of the year.” Her accent isn’t as strong as Maxime’s, but it’s still palpable. Clearly east European, but Harry is not sure it’s actually a Russian one. “Sorry for the delay. Your octopus was not too happy to see us.”
“Yes, yes, she’s a little protective of her territory,” Dumbledore laughs, and shivers run down Harry’s spine. He’s going to guess Dumbledore’s laughter is fake, then, as is his cordiality with Durmstrang’s headmistress. “Come, come. Madame Maxime already arrived, so we can start the feast.”
I feel like writeblr people aren't sending asks to each other as much after that kerfuffle over whether asks need to be individual to a person's projects to count as "supporting" writeblr. Please reblog if you are happy to receive ANY asks, even if it's the same question other people get! I KNOW I AM!
It came to my attention that it's now been two years since I posted the last chapter of Harrison Slytherin and The Year Sirius Black Was the Star. Making it two years some of you are waiting for the sequel. My sincere apologies.
I've been busy these last two years. I changed work, which included a few months of quite intense training, finally graduated college - all in all, I had precious few moments to work on my fic. I have ideas and I am hoping to work on them in the upcoming weeks. No promises, because when I do make them it usually goes bad, but... I promise Harry is not forgotten and I am working on it.
And because this is why I started this blog originally, I am adding a small taste of the fourth book under the cut. Don't be shy to tell me what you think - it might even make me keep motivated!
Sirius can’t focus on the Wizengamot session with the knowledge that as soon as it will be over, he will be coming over to the Slytherin Castle.
Well, not right after. He and Lord Slytherin agreed on a forty-minute delay in between, so they can refresh and change clothes. One does not want to have a meeting that is technically about family in Wizengamot robes.
Focusing on politics when such an important meeting is in front of him is in itself almost impossible, but when he knows that his godson is sitting just above him? He can feel him, his magic that is almost more powerful than anyone else’s in the room (with the exception of his father and Dumbledore himself), the wildfire that is closely controlled.
“All for.”
Sirius flinches and quickly puts the tip of his wand to the small wall in front of him. Raising the donation that the Ministry gives to St. Mungo’s is a good cause, but he seriously needs to focus on the session.
Luckily, it is not a long session, and it is not even two o’clock when Dumbledore lets them go. Sirius is out of his chair and out of his balcony as soon as he’s able to. He’d completely overlook the simple letter on the table in his anteroom if there wasn’t a magical pull to it. He stops to open it and read it.
Keep your cool – Tom might forgive a lot of Harry's mother, but he won’t be as lenient with you. Good luck, R. C.
Sirius smirks just before the letter bursts into flames. The light flame singes his fingers, but he just smiles.
It’s still a surprise every time he finds these short messages from Rabastan, since as a healer he almost never has the time to join them for their Saturday tea. But somehow, they still managed to start a genuine friendship, through short messages, a few jokes, and adoration for little Rosie.
Sirius doesn’t know how exactly Rabastan knows the whole truth about Harry or even how he knows about their meeting today, but he learned to not question some things, to just go with it by now.
He doesn’t even step out into the hallway. Instead, he goes through the fireplace straight to his study room and from there to his bedroom. He quickly gets out of his Wizengamot robe and puts on a modern one that he selected for this meeting a month ago – he puts on black trousers before pulling a dark blue robe that wraps around him and ends above his knees. Its long sleeves look like they’re part of the robe, but when Sirius raises his arms, it becomes apparent that they have high slits almost to the shoulder. He belts the robe with a thick, silver belt, and uses charms on his hair, so he doesn’t have it up anymore, but still has it in a thick braid. With a quick look to the mirror, he nods at himself before rushing out of his room again.
He still has time, but he doesn’t want to leave Lily waiting.
Lily is pacing the waiting room, biting her lower lip, and twirling her hair around her fingers. Her hair is in a simple braid down her right shoulder, with some forest flowers woven into the braid. Her dark blue dress is long enough to touch the floor and fitted just enough to be flattering on Lily, with decent cleavage that isn’t too revealing and flowy, see-through sleeves in the same colour.
“You look amazing.”
Honestly, Sirius is a little surprised to see her like this. She spent most of her summer with Jack and his pack, so when the two of them met she was usually in jeans and shirts. Werewolves apparently prefer muggle clothes to robes. Not that their women don’t wear dresses or skirts, but Lily, not having to work over summer, spent most of her time running around with the pack’s children, and jeans were just more practical for it.
Lily quickly turns towards him and lets her hand fall to her side. Then she smiles, a little unsure.
“Thank you, Sirius. The children enjoy weaving flowers into my hair,” she adds, amused, as she gestures towards her braid. “You don’t think Lord Slytherin will mind such a relaxed hairstyle, do you?”
Sirius just stands there and looks at her for a long minute. This whole situation is… surreal to him. Lord Slytherin is Voldemort and Voldemort kidnapped their baby. And he would do anything, anything to get their baby back, but… Harry is fourteen now and has a right to have his own agency. And he doesn’t want them. Not the way they want him.
If Sirius thinks about it too long, he gets furious at Lord Slytherin. And he’s in no position to go against him, politically speaking. He might have made some friends lately, but he’s in no illusion that if it came down to it, they would choose him over Lord Slytherin. They wouldn’t and he knows it. So he doesn’t think about it.
What will happen today, however… Sirius is not sure.
“I mean… we’re practically family, right?”
He doesn’t sound nearly as sure as he’d like and Lily gives him a raised eyebrow, before bursting into a laugh.
“What the fuck are we doing, Pads?”
Sirius shrugs his shoulders and sighs.
“I have no idea, Lils. But we have,” he quickly checks the time, “thirty more minutes before Lord Slytherin expects us.”
Lily lets out another unamused laugh before collapsing to an armchair nearby.
“Fuck, I haven’t been this nervous since… you know, I actually don’t remember ever being this nervous. Maybe before I gave birth to the boys?” She frowns as she says that. Sirius smiles softly before sitting down in the armchair close to hers.
“I can’t believe it’s been fourteen years already.”
They’ve both been to Chris’ birthday party. Sirius didn’t really like what a spectacle James made of it, with half of the Ministry including Minister Fudge there as well as most of the Wizengamot. Well, the light families of Wizengamot and most of the elected members were there. The celebration was somewhat bittersweet to Sirius – he wanted to spend the time with Chris, he really did. But Chris had his friends there and the party was more a chance of making political contacts than anything else. He spent most of it with Lily, avoiding Remus. He did enjoy his talk with Madame Bones and a few elected Wizengamot members, but the whole afternoon was ruined for him when Dumbledore tried talking to him. Well, honestly, he mostly talked to Lily. It took all of Sirius’ willpower to not snarl back at him.
Lily sags in her seat, suddenly looking tired.
“So much went wrong. I knew that having children during a war was risky, but… I could have never anticipated that.”
“I don’t think anyone could have seen that coming, Lils.” The silence between them is tense now and Sirius hates everything about it. “Fuck, I could use a shot.”
“Don’t you dare, Sirius! We’re not going to the Slytherin Castle drunk.”
“You mean, like you were the last time we’ve been there?”
Lily groans and hides her blushing face behind her hands. Sirius smiles, but it doesn’t really solve anything. Sirius is still tense and nervous, and he can see that Lily feels the same way.
“It’s a shame there won’t be quidditch this school year,” Sirius tries to lighten up the mood. Lily looks up at him, her cheeks still pink, but her eyes interested. “Harry is one hell of a player. Would love to watch him play.”
“I am just glad he and Chris won’t be able to enter the Tournament,” Lily sighs easily. “I just got him back, I couldn’t watch him be in danger in a freaking Triwizard Tournament.”
“I’d be more worried about Chris entering than Harry,” Sirius says easily. “Harry has a good head on his shoulders, he wouldn’t enter the competition even if he could. Not when it’s spurred on them like that, without him training for it before. Not if he knows the Tournament’s history.”
Which Sirius assumes he does, with his pureblood upbringing.
They chat for a while about the upcoming school year. There’s less than two weeks left before it starts, and Lily has already moved back to Hogwarts. She was officially living with Sirius this summer, but Sirius hardly ever saw her. Lily did visit him every once in a while, but Jack, her boyfriend, wouldn’t allow Sirius to visit them yet. And Sirius understands. He did get coffee with both of them at the beginning of summer in the same coffee shop he and Frank met with Jack months ago. Jack straight up told him that he doesn’t want to risk his pack yet and Sirius understands that. Bringing Lily in to introduce her as his girlfriend was already risky enough and Sirius doesn’t want to make their position in the pack even more complicated.
Sirius isn’t sure how he feels about the upcoming school year. Bringing back the Triwizard Tournament seems risky at best, and Sirius isn’t happy about the situation with Peter still being unsolved while that is going on. The investigation is ongoing, but it brought up nothing new, the working theory is still the one where Peter broke out of prison to go after Chris. Of course, with what Sirius now knows, it’s also possible that he’s after Harry. Either version makes Sirius nervous, which is why he agreed to stay around Hogwarts for one more school year.
What role the pupils from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons will play in him guarding Hogwarts, Sirius is not sure. But at least he won’t have to deal with Remus while there anymore.
Sirius is still pissed at Chris for letting it slip that Remus is a werewolf. It doesn’t matter that Remus broke Sirius’ heart and that Sirius partially wants Remus to hurt. You do not out werewolves for any reason. The fact that Chris did so accidentally makes it worse, not better as James claims. And the fact that Chris wasn’t even punished for it makes Sirius’ blood boil. How the fuck is Chris supposed to learn from his mistakes when James refuses to admit that they are mistakes?
Finally, Sirius’ wand starts vibrating against his forearm and he quickly stands up before cancelling the alarm spell. He smiles at Lily.
“Well, no time to waste now. You ready?”
Lily breathes in deeply before she stands up and looks straight at Sirius.
“Not really, not nearly. But what the hell. Let’s go meet the father of our boy.”
It’s your friendly neighbor fanfic author here. In the light of this apparent new trend of people feeding unfinished fics to AI to get an “ending,” and some people even talking about “blanket permissions,” let me just say this:
I EXPLICITLY FORBID ANYONE TO FEED MY FICS TO AI. DUDE, THAT IS ABOUT THE LEAST RESPECTFUL THING YOU CAN DO. IF YOU DO IT, SHALL YOU BE EXCOMMUNICATED FROM YOUR FANDOM AND WALK ON LEGOS BAREFOOT TILL THE END OF DAYS.
Okay, fine, I am done talking about myself in the third person. It is kinda weird.
Anyway, I’ve been thinking about starting a blog for my writing for some time now. I really love writing and although I am incredibely happy with AO3 and my account there, I always feel like there’s not really the place to talk about my fics? So, yeah, this blog.
I’m gonna link my ongoing fics to this blog so that people reading my fics can come and ask me questions or just... scream at me in an atmosphere that hopefully feels better than AO3 commentary (though, of course, an author adores people who actually comment).
So, that’s it. I am here and other than randomly dropping to reblog a billion posts into my main blog, I also write when I have the time for it. Hopefully I won’t be talking to void soon enough.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Due to the new and terrifying threat of AI attempting to steal the works and the jobs of writers, all my fics have been locked and now only registered users can access them
I am sorry, everyone. I firmly believe in accessibility of art and I always wanted my fanfics to reach as wide audience as possible. But if I can stop the spread of the cancer that is the new AI trend, I will. And so I was forced to take this step.
Either way, I recommend getting an account on AO3. It's one of the best decision I've made online and I believe everyone, especially each and every fic reader, can benefit from a profile there.
And if anyone is interested in my ongoing series:
RR&S is... put on hold. It still lives somewhere at the back of my mind and I still have some (mostly vague) ideas, but I haven't touched that fic in more than a year. I love my boys with all my heart, but the brain is just not wording for them. I am sorry.
Harry, on the other hand, is growing ever more complex and ever more independent. With just about 145k words I finally reached the Yule holidays and with the summer coming I am hoping I will be finished with the fourth year before the summer ends. Keep your fingers crossed and with any luck I'll be ready to start posting by the time Christmas rolls around, Lady Magic permitting.
Se začátkem dalšího léta přichází nečekané - zatímco Davida čeká dovolená s tátou, Jáchyma čekají prázdniny u babičky. A pár dalších příbuzných. (Spoiler Alert - je jich 22. Ano, počítaly jsme to.)
Upřímně, Jáchym to měl čekat. K babičce jezdil každý rok a jediný důvod, proč nejel loni, byly kola. Ale tenhle příběh už známe.
Takže Jáchym jede na Moravu a před sebou má měsíc bez Davida. Jak tohle asi dopadne...
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Velmi hrdě se hlásíme s pokračováním. A kdy jindy postnout další horké léto, než uprostřed zimy?
Jáchym je na svou rodinu sice zvyklý, but let me tell you - poznat jeho velkou, chaotickou rodinu byl celkem... zážitek. Babička a děda, strýcové a tety, sestřenice a bratranci a... jak se říká dětem bratranců? No prostě, Jáchym možná odjíždí od Davida, ale nuda to rozhodně nebude.
Doufáme, že aspoň některé z Vás náš letní sequel zahřeje. Fair warning - David si tentokrát dává načas, takže se ke slovu dostane až ve čtvrté kapitole. Ale slibujeme, že tam bude!
Look, I didn't want to go on that trip. Ale máma s tátou se výjimečně shodli. A když ti dva spolupracujou, tak není úniku.
Takže jsme na kola měli vyrazit já a Tereza. A máma tam nacpala Jáchyma. Jejího debilního nevlastního syna. Tak jsem si aspoň vynutil Sašu, v rámci zachování mentálního zdraví.
Kdo by čekal, že summer romance is a thing? ... And that I put the bi in biking.
Já Karolíně říkal, že to byl špatný nápad.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Sandra stále píše česky! Tentokrát ovšem ne sama.
Potom, co Eliott znesvětila Máchala (a jiné české pohádky), jsme se pustily do trochu modernější tvorby. A vybraly jsme si pro to... jak to říct kulantně... ne úplně povedený slavný film. Když vás ovšem múza flákne po hlavě, tak co máte dělat.
Davida s Jáchymem budeme na Archiv přidávat dvakrát týdně. Sedmnáct kapitol, skoro 160k slov - s námi se rozhodně nudit nebudete.
Pro teď se celkem držíme filmu. Ovšem slibujeme, že hned v další kapitole se to rozjede *mrk mrk*
Povídka je v češtině, znalost angličtiny povinná.
Eliott: Protože já sex česky psát nebudu!
Nebo jak našim Bi-kerům s láskou říkáme - náš love letter to čumblr.
"No tak, Jáchyme!" leknutím jsem naskočil, když na mě dopadlo pár kapek vody a vzhlédl, abych viděl na Terezu, která se krčila ve vodě blízko břehu… vlastně, celkem dost blízko místa, kde jsem seděl já, a vesele se na mě křenila. "To mi neříkej, že raději budeš sedět upocenej u mobilu, než aby sis šel s náma zaplavat. Voda je úžasná!"
"Má pravdu, srabe," zašklebil se na mě David z mnohem větší vzdálenosti. Se Sašou byli jen kousek od místa, kde na sebe holky celkem spokojeně střikaly vodu. "Come on! Voda ti udělá dobře."
Jeho hlas poklesl jen dost na to, abych cítil, jak mi celý obličej hoří. Rychle jsem vstal a otočil se k nim zády, abych si uklidil mobil. Žádný jiný důvod. Davidův smích, hlasitý a uvolněný, stejně způsobil, že mi přejel mráz po zádech. Paráda. Proč jsem na něj pořád takhle reagoval? Teď jen doufám, že ta voda bude studená.
Popadl jsem svoje věci a zamračil se. Jáchymovy věci v jeho zelených taškách na kolo tam pořád ležely. Divný. Jáchym k autu vždycky zamířil jako první. Měl tam nabíječku. Popadl jsem i jeho věci a hodil je k nám ke stanu, převlíknul jsem se do normálních šortek. Rozhlídnul jsem se kolem. Jáchyma jsem fakt nikde neviděl. To je...fucking weird.
Všimnul jsem si, že Tereza postávala kousek dál u nějakýho stromu a culila se do telefonu. Beztak si psala s tátou. Nedalo mi to a zamířil jsem za ní.
„Kde je Jáchym?“ zeptal jsem se lehce otráveně. Vážně, zmetek se nepodílel na stavbě stanu, možná bych ho měl nechat spát pod širákem. Tereza zvedla hlavu a její úsměv trochu poklesnul.
„No…“ začala nejistě. Zamračil jsem se a hlavou mi probleskla mamčina slova, která jsem přeslechl na nádraží ‘vy máte submisivní rysy’. Proč? To netuším.
„Co tím myslíš, no? Kde je?“ Upřímně, tohle začalo znít fakt divně.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Jáchym si možná myslí, že je velmi racionální, ale reálně je emotional mess. V Davidovi se začínají probouzet ochranářské pocity - ne, že by si to uvědomoval. A vůbec - za všechnno může Tereza.
Aneb kluci pojem "slow burn" ani nemají ve slovníku.
"No tak, Jáchyme!" leknutím jsem naskočil, když na mě dopadlo pár kapek vody a vzhlédl, abych viděl na Terezu, která se krčila ve vodě blízko břehu… vlastně, celkem dost blízko místa, kde jsem seděl já, a vesele se na mě křenila. "To mi neříkej, že raději budeš sedět upocenej u mobilu, než aby sis šel s náma zaplavat. Voda je úžasná!"
"Má pravdu, srabe," zašklebil se na mě David z mnohem větší vzdálenosti. Se Sašou byli jen kousek od místa, kde na sebe holky celkem spokojeně střikaly vodu. "Come on! Voda ti udělá dobře."
Jeho hlas poklesl jen dost na to, abych cítil, jak mi celý obličej hoří. Rychle jsem vstal a otočil se k nim zády, abych si uklidil mobil. Žádný jiný důvod. Davidův smích, hlasitý a uvolněný, stejně způsobil, že mi přejel mráz po zádech. Paráda. Proč jsem na něj pořád takhle reagoval? Teď jen doufám, že ta voda bude studená.
Popadl jsem svoje věci a zamračil se. Jáchymovy věci v jeho zelených taškách na kolo tam pořád ležely. Divný. Jáchym k autu vždycky zamířil jako první. Měl tam nabíječku. Popadl jsem i jeho věci a hodil je k nám ke stanu, převlíknul jsem se do normálních šortek. Rozhlídnul jsem se kolem. Jáchyma jsem fakt nikde neviděl. To je...fucking weird.
Všimnul jsem si, že Tereza postávala kousek dál u nějakýho stromu a culila se do telefonu. Beztak si psala s tátou. Nedalo mi to a zamířil jsem za ní.
„Kde je Jáchym?“ zeptal jsem se lehce otráveně. Vážně, zmetek se nepodílel na stavbě stanu, možná bych ho měl nechat spát pod širákem. Tereza zvedla hlavu a její úsměv trochu poklesnul.
„No…“ začala nejistě. Zamračil jsem se a hlavou mi probleskla mamčina slova, která jsem přeslechl na nádraží ‘vy máte submisivní rysy’. Proč? To netuším.
„Co tím myslíš, no? Kde je?“ Upřímně, tohle začalo znít fakt divně.
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Organization for Transformative Works
Jáchym si možná myslí, že je velmi racionální, ale reálně je emotional mess. V Davidovi se začínají probouzet ochranářské pocity - ne, že by si to uvědomoval. A vůbec - za všechnno může Tereza.
Aneb kluci pojem "slow burn" ani nemají ve slovníku.
Ale Saša mi trochu dělal starosti. Tereza a Jáchym si možná nevšimli, ale já nebyl slepej a všiml jsem si, že Saša nevypadal spokojeně. A popravdě řečeno, ty holky, co v tuhle chvíli dělaly nějaký cviky na...desce or whatever, mu věnovaly fakt nepříjemné pohledy. „A co jim přeletělo přes nos?“
„Zjistily, že nejsem gay,“ odfrknul si otráveně.
„To je dobře, ne?“ nadhodil jsem. Jako jo, z toho, jak si povídaly mezi sebou, to skoro vyznělo, že se chtěly bavit jen se Sašou...protože je gay, ale Saša přece nechtěl, aby si to o něm reálně někdo myslel.
„No, jo. Ale...ne.“
„Cože?“
„Bys myslel, že jsem jim tvrdil, že jsem gay, abych se jim moh podívat pod kalhotky,“ zabručel Saša uraženě.
Když byl konečně čas na odjezd, ty holky vypadaly, že byly z naší společné cesty nadšené ještě míň než včera, a to už něco říká. Ale proč na nás, sakra, koukaly tak nevraživě? No vážně, co jsme jim udělali?
Veškerá nevraživost se projevila dost rychle, když za to holky vzaly hned od začátku a během prvních třiceti minut nám odjely. Sašu tentokrát nechaly s náma.
"No tak si to tak neber," zaslechl jsem Terezu chlácholit Sašu. Okay – co se, kurva, stalo? Souvisí to nějak s Davidovým náhlým stěhováním do mého stanu? A jak můžu zajistit, že se to už nikdy nebude opakovat?
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Organization for Transformative Works
Jsme zpět přesně, jak jsme slíbily!
Jáchym začíná svou cestu sebepoznání, zatímco David se Sašou mají drama. A za všechno můžou...holky. Koho by to napadlo. AKA Existuje důvod, proč je rating povídky Explicit.
Doufám, že aspoň někdo ocení naši snahu určité scény psát česky. Protože jsme si na to fakt, fakt odvykly. A teď jsme se tak snažily!
Look, I didn't want to go on that trip. Ale máma s tátou se výjimečně shodli. A když ti dva spolupracujou, tak není úniku.
Takže jsme na kola měli vyrazit já a Tereza. A máma tam nacpala Jáchyma. Jejího debilního nevlastního syna. Tak jsem si aspoň vynutil Sašu, v rámci zachování mentálního zdraví.
Kdo by čekal, že summer romance is a thing? ... And that I put the bi in biking.
Já Karolíně říkal, že to byl špatný nápad.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Sandra stále píše česky! Tentokrát ovšem ne sama.
Potom, co Eliott znesvětila Máchala (a jiné české pohádky), jsme se pustily do trochu modernější tvorby. A vybraly jsme si pro to... jak to říct kulantně... ne úplně povedený slavný film. Když vás ovšem múza flákne po hlavě, tak co máte dělat.
Davida s Jáchymem budeme na Archiv přidávat dvakrát týdně. Sedmnáct kapitol, skoro 160k slov - s námi se rozhodně nudit nebudete.
Pro teď se celkem držíme filmu. Ovšem slibujeme, že hned v další kapitole se to rozjede *mrk mrk*
Povídka je v češtině, znalost angličtiny povinná.
Eliott: Protože já sex česky psát nebudu!
Nebo jak našim Bi-kerům s láskou říkáme - náš love letter to čumblr.
SS Tipton pořádá Miss Paluba. Hlavní výhra - dvacet tisíc dolarů. A peníze se vždycky hodí. Plus, je to způsob, jak na to nalákat Codyho.
Protože když se Cody převlíkne za Tyreeshu jako kdysi a Zack bude předstírat, že je jeho přítel, tak ho pustí do zákulisí a on bude moct očumovat ostatní účastnice, že!
Cody ví, že svému dvojčeti nedokáže říct ne. Ale předstírat, že je se Zackem ve vztahu, bude bolet. Konec konců, s Bailey se rozešel z více důvodů, než že je gay...
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Sandra píše česky!
Respektive, v tomto případě, Sandra psala česky. Asi tak před deseti lety.
Hele, já nevim, proč jsem najednou získala potřebu svou velmi, velmi, velmi starou povídku cpát na AO3. But here we are.
A FYI - tohle není moje poslední kontribuce na čumblr. (Počítá se to vůbec jako čumblr když je to napsaný česky, ale na západní fandom?) Na druhou stranu, za to, co se teprve chystá, nejsem zodpovědná úplně sama... Ale o tom někdy jindy. Pro teď - no... představení twincestem je asi něco, čemu jsem se vyhnout nemohla.
When he finally stops and holds his breath to hear everything, he can hear panting from his right and nervous breath from further down right. Slowly, he makes his way first to the nervous breath and strikes his baton, so the breathing stops. Then, finally able to listen to the voices in his ear again, he rolls his eyes. Of course Jason and Richard are complaining that they can’t really see him working. Then he makes his way to the panting sound and stops there, listening for few long seconds.
“Coming to kill me, demon?”
Damian grins when the person pulls of the safety on his gun. He simply takes the gun away. It’s not even much of a fight for it – the man has to be injured from all the shooting that happened here. Then he leans close to the man.
“You’re lucky, soldier,” he murmurs quietly, enjoying the quiet sound of horror that comes out of the man, “that I am no longer in employ of killers.”
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Organization for Transformative Works
Yes, I new chapter of Rogues, Revenge & Sex is now out!
Timothy and Damian deal with the aftermath of their injuries while Sokovia gets ready for Maximoff's trial. Also, Jason's and Alfred's birthday
Rogues, Revenge & Sex:
What if DC characters exist in MCU, but keep to themselves? What if they agree with the Accords? And what if the batfam adopted Tony Stark after the fiasco that was Siberia? Unashamedly team Tony, team cap bashing.
On the fateful day, Voldemort walks into the Potter home. But this time, James Potter is not home, Lily Potter is more clever than you'd think, and there's not one child, but two.
In which Henry Potter becomes Harrison Corvinus Gaunt after being adopted by Tom Riddle, sorry, Slytherin, and goes to Hogwarts. Except this Hogwarts is just a little different from the Hogwarts we know. Lord Slytherin and his friends had ten years to change things, after all. They're by no definition done with the changes they plan for their society, but... it's a work in progress.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Fully wrong-boy-who-lived, Dumbledore-bashing fic, rewriting-the-serie fic. I've read a touch too many of those and... well. I am a fanfiction writer for a reason. Monkey see monkey do and all that. Hopefully, my fic has just enough original ideas in it that it will keep your attention. This one is already over 400k long and I just finished Harry's third school year.
The first part is a prologue of sorts where I introduce not only how I see Tom (and Voldemort) and how Henry Potter became Harrison Gaunt, but also most of my OCs.
After that - Harry is part of the proper wizarding society when he enters Hogwarts for the first time. Speaking of which - this wizarding society? Not quite how she-who-must-not-be-named imagine it. But who cares about her anyway?
Found family trope, Slytherin Harry, wizard-world etiquette and more - you will find it all, with a Slytherin princeling as your guide.
What if DC characters exist in MCU, but keep to themselves? What if they agree with the Accords? And what if the batfam adopted Tony Stark after the fiasco that was Siberia?
Unashamedly team Tony, team cap bashing.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Also, I do not add to it regularly, so it is very much a WIP and I have no idea howo big fan of the fandom. Especially here on tumblr. So yeah, this fic is definitely the fault of the "batfam" tag here. And the "robincest" tag. Yeah, that is definitely a big part of the fic. You've been forewarned.
But the fic is just me having some time with Damian and pissing all over the Rogues. Also not sorry about that - I am openly team Iron Man and if you don't like it, then don't read it. First rule of fanfiction and all.
I... can't really describe the fic other than what's in the tags (definitely check out those!). It's just a little fun for me... which grew to over 150k words. But hey, if you do not like the Rogues, love competent batfamily and aren't against the pseudo-incest that I have going on, I hope you'll enjoy this!
Also, I do not add to it regularly, so it is very much a WIP and I have no idea how long that status will hold. It's been also almost a year since I last updated and that is not an unusual occurance for this fic, so... you've been warned.
