Leaping off of some of our Artisanal Fandom Grandma/Fandom Spinster/Fandom Grumpy Old Person discussions from a couple of weeks ago, for your consideration: The Selfish Fic Summer Challenge.
Low-stakes, slow-paced, unrestrained summer fun for people who want to write fic at the speed of whatever works within their life right now. Write the thing for that show that ended a month ago that you’re still thinking about, even if it feels like the internet has moved on! Start crafting that 150k fix-it friends to lovers pwp amusement park employee AU where they’re also space pirates for that six-episode limited-run series that stole your heart back in October of 2021! Write one fic or 38, whatever feels best for you!
This is a loose challenge that will run from June to September, 2022. You can write whatever.
Signups are never because I don’t have the time to keep track of signups, and also there’s no deadline! But if you want to pledge that you’re joining for accountability or to encourage your friends to slow down this summer too, feel free to reblog this post! Questions? Send us an ask! Full challenge details here.
Summary: Kara takes a part-time job at the Luthor estate for the summer, hoping to use her down-time to finish writing a tell-all memoir of her tragic childhood. Lena is a reclusive genius trying to lay low in the aftermath of her brother’s trial. Neither of them are looking to fall in love.
Supercorp AU, no powers, rated T for now but will likely be M later
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Chapter 1
June
Well, thought Kara. I guess I’m really doing this.
She rolled down her car window and quickly typed in the gate code she’d been sent by Ms. Luthor’s assistant. The wrought iron gate, comically oversized but beautifully crafted, parted with a smooth whir that belied its heft.
So, there really are people who live like this just an hour outside National City, on a hundred acres of countryside, behind stone and iron on a grassy hillside that only they can access, Kara mused.
After a moment of eye-widening hesitation, she ducked her head back in the car. As she waited for the gate to open fully, Kara chanced a glance down at her outfit–a light blue button-down tucked into belted jeans and a pair of paddock boots, her hair pulled back into a neat, practical bun. She felt outclassed, and she hadn’t even set foot on the property yet.
No, no. It was fine; she wasn’t here to make any kind of impression other than being as useful and unobtrusive as possible. Giving herself a little shake, Kara nodded once and gripped the wheel tighter as she began to pull up the long, winding drive to the Luthor estate.
When Cat had made the arrangements on Kara’s behalf for her summer—what was this anyway: a job? A writing retreat? A foolish arrangement she might regret?—and told her that the house was “set back a ways from the main road,” she hadn’t properly conveyed that it would be almost a half mile before Kara would be able to see the roof and upper stories of the stately mansion rise out of the surrounding countryside.
And all around was green, idyllic and lush, lined with fences but otherwise seemingly untouched–trees comfortingly large with reaching branches, and long grass shifting restlessly in the early summer breeze.
Kara’s phone buzzed in her pocket just as she was navigating the roundabout in front of the house and turning left toward the road around back where she’d been given explicit instructions to park. Rolling to a stop next to a red pickup truck already parked in front of a long, freshly painted row of dark green stables that looked more pristine than the interiors of most people’s homes, Kara glanced at the new message from her sister.
So, you’re really doing this, huh?
Kara rolled her eyes and smiled at the mirroring of her own thoughts. Alex knew her a bit too well. She glanced around to make sure no one had come to greet her and then tapped out a quick response.
I really am. It’s beautiful and quiet. Perfect place to write.
An almost instant reply: It’s not the writing I’m worried about.
Kara bit her lip. To say Alex had been skeptical about Kara’s rambling explanation of Cat’s proposition would be an understatement. According to Alex, it was a terrible idea. A distraction. A ridiculous lark. Maybe even a stain on her integrity as a writer. Kara had laughed out loud at that one. Alex had her best interests at heart, sure, but who would know—or care?—where she spent a summer writing the book her boss (now also officially her editor, Kara reminded herself giddily) thought might actually put her on the map, might actually make a difference? The book she’d been working herself up to write ever since she’d closed the chapter on that other long-lost life of hers, the one where people cared very little about what she thought and only about what she could do.
She’s not like the rest of her family, Alex. I know what that’s like better than anyone.
I know. I’m sorry. Is it nice there?
Kara stepped out of the car as she typed out a quick response, anxious to explore: It’s gorgeous. Call you tonight?
Of course. Love you.
Fifteen years ago, when Kara had come to live with the Danvers as a terrified thirteen-year-old, she’d known, even then, that she had a story to tell. A story about how good deeds are more often punished than not. She didn’t have the words then, but she had them now. After years of flying under the radar, dodging true crime aficionados and reporters looking to make a name for themselves with a tell-all from the last daughter of the Krypton cult, Kara was finally ready to talk. But it would be on her own terms. Her story, in her words. She hadn’t spent the last decade and a half living like a ghost, with a last name that wasn’t hers, only to turn back now.
Kara shook her head, surveying the stables and barn with her hands on her hips for a moment, before texting Alex a quick heart emoji, pocketing her phone, and turning towards the car’s trunk. Now wasn't the time to reminisce. Before she could speak her truth, she had to finish the book–and wasn't that why she was here?
That, and Kara didn't have the luxury to take time off just to write. The Danvers' were comfortably middle class, but they weren't wealthy. A steady income was absolutely necessary, and while she loved her work as an editor for Catco Publishing, it was draining, leaving her unable to write more than a paragraph or two when she got home at night. That’s how she’d eked out the first hundred pages, though, paragraph by paragraph. But if she really wanted to finish this book, she needed time. She needed this summer.
So, here was the perfect solution, Kara reminded herself with a smile as she shook off the contagion of Alex's worrying, and popped open the trunk. She pulled two suitcases free and placed them on the packed dirt of the drive. She had a free place to stay for three months on a gorgeous estate. She had a part-time job keeping a stable full of likely very high-end horses exercised. And she'd have the rest of the time to write, free of distractions. Cat had hinted that the enigmatic Lena Luthor–who now owned the manor and all of her family's assets after her murderous brother had been arrested and sentenced, and her mother, no doubt an accomplice, had vanished–probably wouldn't make much an appearance.
"She's very private," Cat had scoffed, disbelievingly. "I think it's playing a little too perfectly into the 'evil genius in her lair' trope or, you know, the madwoman in the attic, but what do I know? That girl has the perfect makings of a bestseller, and she won't say a word." One of the other junior editors, Nia, later told Kara that Lena had refused no less than a dozen of Cat's offers to publish her memoirs of growing up in a household of megalomaniacal murderers.
Still, the Grants and Luthors had run in similar circles, and Cat was one of the few allies Lena had left. When Lena had complained she didn't know who of her mother’s staff she could trust, it was Cat who'd made the suggestion of a mutually beneficial, temporary arrangement, just for a few months until Lena could figure out next steps.
Kara had heard all this from Cat’s gossipy assistant, Eve, of course, not the woman herself. Cat had only told her that she had the perfect solution to Kara's "inane" dilemma that she couldn't take an unpaid leave for three months just to write ("I mean, really, Kara, writers have to suffer for their art, and you'll still have health insurance because I'm nothing if not generous, but if you insist on having a job, I have an idea for you."). So, here she was.
Lena hadn't even come out of the house to greet her, and Kara had been on the property for at least fifteen minutes, so she probably wouldn't be seeing much of the mysterious heiress. And Cat had said Lena wasn't much of a rider, that she was planning to sell the horses at the end of the summer once the hubbub of the trial had, hopefully, died down. So it would be just Kara with her thoughts, the occasional visit from Alex. Riding and writing. It was going to be a good summer.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Frank Castle/Karen Page
Additional Tags: Ficlet, one scene, bet supporting role award goes to: Karen's couch, Cunnilingus, Post-Series, Established Relationship, no beta we die like men
Summary:
last year, I dreamt up a ghost oc for the BBC Ghosts fandom. which was great, except I couldn't figure out what was sadder/funnier: if my oc was a high school student in their final year, or a first year uni student. both had potential to be very sad but also to add a new dynamic to the Ghosts gang and hopefully be somewhat amusing. so, I started writing some scenes for both of them.
turns out, even I couldn't decide which worked better. so I thought 'what the hell' and kept writing for both.
anyways, since it's Selfish Fic Summer, and this is a super indulgent concept, I thought I'd share some drabbles of my ocs which you can read here. I've called the drabble collection 'Spiriting Gently', after one of Ariel's lines in The Tempest.
I'll try to keep adding to it throughout the next few months, but fair warning: I make no promises lol
other warnings: mentions of death (I mean, they are ghosts, so it's kind of unavoidable)
And it’s only been a little over a week! I’m sitting in a hotel room at 2am and should really get to sleep, but I just had to post this first.
~ ~ ~ ~
“Well, don’t you two look lovely together.”
Kara startled at Lena’s voice, the slight jerk of her body causing Vermeer to spook. He sidestepped unexpectedly, a jarring motion at a canter. There was a suspended moment in time where she worried she might fall; Kara’s balance shifted dangerously to one side and the gravity of the sandy arena seemed to pull at her. Luckily, Vermeer recovered his footing quickly, and Kara was able to reseat herself, organizing the reins and straightening her posture, before soothing the horse with a palm on his neck.
Kara brought Vermeer to a halt and then turned his head and her own body in the direction of the voice behind her. Lena, to her credit, looked absolutely mortified. Kara found herself smiling and waving away the other woman’s apology before she even started to issue it.
“Oh my god. I am so sorry.”
“It’s fine, Lena. It’s fine.”
Kara laughed, as she turned Vermeer fully and trotted over to Lena, who was standing at the far end of the arena, her hand over her heart.
“Horses spook. It’s part of the package.”
Lena was shaking her head, flustered. “Well, I know better than to approach a horse from behind like that. I could have been a panther for all he knew.”
Kara drew Vermeer to a stop at the fenceline, and Lena reached out a hand to stroke the horse’s nose in apology. Kara looked down at the heiress, dressed in what she supposed was what Lena considered casual: a tight-fitting pair of maroon pants, low-heeled boots, and a printed blouse. Lena’s hair was up in an elaborate, loose bun, her makeup delicate. She looked breathtakingly beautiful–but Kara quickly shook that thought from her mind before it had a chance to take hold.
She cleared her throat and Lena’s eyes, which had been lingering somewhere around Kara’s legs wrapped snugly around the saddle, snapped up to meet Kara’s gaze. Kara smirked, “You don’t look like a panther to me. I think we’re safe.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time someone mistook me for predatory,” Lena quipped, before seeming to realize what she’d said. She took a step back from the fence, her tone shifting to something more practiced and careful.. “Don’t feel like you have to stop on my account.” She gestured expansively at the arena with one arm. “I just wanted to see how you were settling in, but I can come back later when you’re done, if that’s easier?” Lena started to back away from the arena to leave Kara to her own devices, which was exactly the opposite of what Kara wanted.
Where the Light Leans Past Our Shadows (Chapter 3)
Sorry for the longer gap between chapters this time. At least it’s a fairly long one!
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It was late morning, and the day, which had started crisp, was warming up. Kara stripped off the light flannel she’d thrown on earlier, leaving her arms bare in a tight-fitting tank top. Seville seemed to shimmer, his fiery chestnut coat glowing redder as Kara passed from the shade of the stable into the sunlight.
As Kara’s eyes adjusted to the change in brightness, she looked past the path to the arena and was surprised to see Lena walking down from the house. Her hair was down around her shoulders in slight waves, and she, too, seemed more brilliant in the sun, lovely and shining with some kind of inner warmth.
Kara grinned and waved, breaking into a jog to meet her halfway, Seville readily picking up his pace by her side. Lena half lifted her hand in return as they neared, a smile playing on her lips, before she lowered her hand just as quickly, tucking it into the pocket of her dark green sundress with a nervous jerk.
And that’s why, Kara reasoned when she played the moment over in her head later that night, her first words to Lena after three days of silence were both asinine and random, spilling from her mouth before she could stop herself.
“Neat. Your dress has pockets!”
Miraculously, Lena blushed rather than scoffing and slipped her other hand inside the folds of the dress so she could wiggle her fingers outward, as in demonstration of her pockety prowess.
“It does.” Her voice, tinged with pleasure, had a low, liquid quality to it, and Kara felt a shiver pass through her at its timbre.
At the gate to the arena, Kara and Lena’s paths converged and Kara drew to a halt, slinging her free arm over the fence. Lena’s eyes tracked Kara’s movement as she, too, came to a stop, and Kara had the sudden, distinct impression that Lena was sizing her up. Was she wondering how Kara would offend her this time, albeit unintentionally? Did Lena expect another apology? Should Kara even mention what had transpired a few days ago or consider the matter settled?
But Lena's gaze was not, Kara realized, assessing or critical–the look felt soft, curious, almost a caress. Without conscious intent, Kara flexed her bicep, and Lena’s eyes whipped back to her face so fast she genuinely worried the other woman might strain her neck.
“So,” Kara grinned to cover her sudden nerves, not allowing herself to dwell on whatever that little display was supposed to mean. “Have you come to test Seville’s spook reflex today?”
Lena gave the blonde a distinctly unimpressed glare, but it had no real heat behind it, before good naturedly rolling her eyes.
“Actually,” the heiress began, taking her hands out of her pockets as she talked, “I came to see if you’d be interested in taking a walk to the cross-country course? It’s such a lovely day and I know you expressed an interest in taking Vermeer there…” Lena trailed off, biting her lip. “Of course, I’m sure you can manage to find it yourself if I point you in the right–”
“I’d love for you to show me,” Kara interrupted swiftly, sensing Lena was about to talk herself out of the invitation. “If you have time for me, that sounds great.”
“Oh.” Lena looked pleased. “Yes. Wonderful.” She peered at Kara fully then, eyes crinkling at the corners. “But I’ve disrupted your plans again. I can come back.”
“Or,” Kara said as she opened the gate and led Seville into the arena, feeling some measure of confidence return, “you could stay and watch, if you like? Seville was just telling me how eager he is to show off.”
“Are you talking to the horses now?”
“I haven’t had much company the past few days,” Kara rejoined, taking a chance to see if Lena would accept the teasing for what it was, a fresh start, and softening her tone to offset any perceived bite to her words.
"Touché," Lena lowered her head but looked up at Kara through her lashes, a small smile playing on her lips.
Kara couldn't help but smile back, not allowing herself to question the warmth that radiated through her at Lena's gaze, fixed as it was on her and Seville as she mounted and began to walk around the arena.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: The Nevers (TV 2021)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Penance Adair/Amalia True | Zephyr Alexis Navine
Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Vaginal Fingering, post-orgasm banter, the never ending struggle of is this Mature or Explicit?, Ficlet, Short One Shot, one scene
Summary:
Fic title: Spiriting Gently | AO3 link- Part 1: Rosie - Cold Open
Warnings: implied death (they are ghosts, after all lol)
A girl wanders up to Button House, gazing up at the huge manor in awe. In the window, Fanny is gazing out at the grounds.
"Who is that?" she says, watching the girl walk across the grass. "Such impudence. Off the lawn! Off the lawn! Alison!"
Alison joins them at the window. "What's wrong now?" she sees the girl in her school uniform, "Oh my god-"
Outside, the girl is ambling up the driveway, still staring up at the house.
"Hello?" She raises her hand to knock on the door, "Anyone h-"
Before she can attempt to knock, the door is opened by Alison, who is a little out of breath from sprinting downstairs to let her in.
"Hi, hello, are you alright? You look a little..." Alison trails off, taking in the dirt-streaked, scuffed up state of the girl's uniform. "Uh, lost."
The girl looks down and notices the state of her clothing. "Oh. Um, yeah. Yeah. I think I am. Could I maybe use your phone? Please? I think I lost mine..."
"Oh my god, yes, of course! Come in!" Alison ushers her inside. "Would you like some water or tea?"
The girl sits down in the armchair next to the phone with a sigh, rubbing her eyes tiredly. "Um, no thanks, I'm good."
"Who is that?" Kitty asks.
"Poor mite," Pat says, "She looks dead tired."
"That make sense," Robin pipes up, "Because she-"
"Who'd you let in?" Mike asks as he looks around the room.
The girl regathers her senses and is about to pick up the phone.
"This school kid-" Alison glances at the girl apologetically, "Sorry, I didn't get your name-" she turns back to Mike, who is still scanning the room, "But she's just using our phone, I think her battery died-"
Robin lets out a sharp bark of laughter. Mike stops looking around and focuses on Alison.
"Ally, there's no one by the phone." he says slowly.
Cut to the girl, whose hand goes through the phone.
"Tried to tell you." Robin shrugs.
The girl gapes at the phone. Then at her hand. Then, very slowly:
