#first five meme

[raysmemehoard]

First five muses in the inbox get a kiss~

If you are a multi-muse and/or are sending this to a multi-muse, please specify the muse/s in question!

[starcunning]

First Five Meme

Cite the final line of five of your fics – your favorites, or the most recent ones. Tag five writers who should do this next. At the request of @doomhamster​, who flatters me. Here’s a selection of things (mostly, and nominally) in progress:

Mother calls me her little sparrow, because it is easier to call me that than Genji. I stop collecting feathers and photographs and focus instead on merely becoming, in the only years of boyhood that remain to me.

When I become a man

Untitled, Overwatch (Genji). For this prompt. On hold indefinitely because this is not my ground to tread. March 2017.

I start the adoption process. They put the monkey in charge of Overwatch. Jack changes his tack; becomes a guest speaker. Angela is as brilliant and as caring as always.

On Thursdays, I sleep in the middle, and they rest their heads on my shoulders. I feel the warmth and strength of them, and I feel lucky. Crickets sing in the Indiana night.

“Grace,” Overwatch (Reaper/76/Mercy). For this prompt. Finished/Unreleased. February 2017.

She felt no terror at the thought of the Reaper. What frightened her, Angela realizes as she lays there willing those fairy lights to fade, was the idea she had created him from someone she loved.

“Wake” from First Do No Harm, Overwatch (Reaper/76/Mercy). For this prompt. FDNH is (nominally) still in progress. Begun June 2016; this excerpt February 2017.

She [Norah Santjack] turned, dark eyes scanning the crowd. Catching Frauka's eyes, she snapped her fingers, pointing at him, and hurried over. “You're...” she began. “Wystan Frauka,” he supplied. “Yeah,” she agreed, pursing her full lips. “Listen, Wys, sorry about your jacket.” She smiled, as though barely holding back a laugh. Her good cheer was infectious, and Wystan laughed. “It's alright,” he said. “I don't think it was my colour anyway. How are you feeling?” She looked up at him, skimming a hand through her hair.

“Spectre,” Ravenor, Warhammer 40,000 (Wystan Frauka/Eleena Koi). Shelved for other projects, also shelved. I’ve been thinking about revisiting it (see also). August 2014.

Elias Edrick was frightened, which made him quite possibly a great deal smarter than most of their fellows. In darkness they waited, and she felt blinded. She counted heads, over and over, to be sure each was in the same place as the last time. She wondered if the towheaded man was looking back at her in the darkness.

She thumbed her palm and prayed to Saint Orphaeus, who went willingly from the light of truth into darkness, and who was returned from primordial night. She felt as she did so a particular sort of irony: her invocations were perhaps not usually so literal; her darkness more often of her own making. She had become so accustomed to bartering that her invocations had taken that shape, but there was little left she could trade the Throne or the Saints. So she begged.

Unnamed Sancour Novella, Warhammer 40,000 (Original characters). I wrote myself into this corner (they’re on a train, and she thinks people are looking for them; they aren’t) and don’t know how to get back out. January 2015.

My wells are narrow but deep, is what I’m saying, and also only half-built.

Tagging: @ivorytowerblr, @castellankurze, @seraphicrose, @ocarina-of-what, @captainswingbeard.