#ladyhawke fanfic

[doumekiss]

2023 Fanfic Recs

Dungeon Meshi

careful, fledgling joy by windingwoods - M/M - Laios/Kabru - 2140 words

mutual misunderstanding by xanrae - M/M - Laios/Kabru - 650 words

God's Own Country

A Year and a Day by Persiflager - M/M - Johnny/Gheorghe - 1800 words

Wide As the Sky by Persiflager - M/M - Johnny/Gheorghe - 670 words

Jennifer's Body

intrinsic and infernal by hvvh - F/F - Jennifer/Needy - 2750 words

Ladyhawke

Dawn and Dusk and Forever In Between by eirenical- F/M/M - Isabeau/Philippe/Etienne - 4100 words

A Veritable Menagerie by lonelywalker - F/M/M - Isabeau/Philippe/Etienne - 1760 words

Lion in Winter

The Instruments of War by Destina - M/M - Phillipe/Richard - 3200 words

The Lies We Need to Tell by Nary - M/M - Phillipe/Richard - 770 words

Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint

you're just my type (you've got a pulse and you are breathing) by nebulous_squid - M/M - Kim Dokja/Yoo Joonghyuk - 10,800 words

herbs, orange peels, and steam (it was supposed to be relaxing?) by nebulous_squid - M/M - Kim Dokja/Yoo Joonghyuk - 3000 words

Show of Faith by Anonymous - M/M - Kim Dokja/Yoo Joonghyuk - 12,900 words

a gasp too wide; lungs too full by Anonymous - M/M - Kim Dokja/Yoo Joonghyuk - 2200 words

off the record by Anonymous - M/M - Kim Dokja/Yoo Joonghyuk - 5900 words

Given Lies yet hidden unspoken truths by Caitel_Lynn - M/M - Kim Dokja/Yoo Joonghyuk - 4000 words

shoot for the stars by tothesun -M/M - Kim Dokja/Secretive Plotter - 9300 words

@thereader has blocked you by AssassinOfChaos - M/M - Kim Dokja/Yoo Joonghyuk - 14,300 words

midnight tryst by Anonymous - M/M - Kim Dokja/Yoo Joonghyuk - 3500 words

The Fallen Angel and The Gamer by Godot5149 - M/M - Kim Dokja/Yoo Joonghyuk - 57,650 words

Dream Sweet In Sea Major by zepjyr - M/M - KIm Dokja/Yoo Joonghyuk - 5,200 words

Oshibudo

what i wish for in this letter by burnedlilly - F/F - Maina/Eripiyo - 1230 words

Red Dwarf

He Thinks Terrible Things by hoc_voluerunt - M/M - Rimmer/Lister - 16,100 words

Enough For Now by kingofthefrogs - M/M - Rimmer/Lister - 2300 words

Second Best by Riona - M/M - Rimmer/Lister - 2400 words

Severance

On Waffle Parties by EightMinutesToSunrise - Gen - 1600 words

Star Trek: Lower Decks

i loved you then and i love you now by punk_rock_yuppie - F/M - Mariner/Boimler - 2700 words

Letting the Days Go By by punk_rock_yuppie - F/M - Mariner/Boimler - 4000 words

Just the Whiskey Talking by InvisibleArmour - F/M - Mariner/Boimler - 3700 words

Friend Stuff by InvisibleArmour - F/M - Mariner/Boimler - 2000 words

Constellations We Have Yet to Find by EowynTried - F/M - Mariner/Boimler - 470 words

the world has no right to my heart by punk_rock_yuppie - F/M - Mariner/Boimler - 3800 words

The Untamed

Killing Me For Mercy by williamshooketh - M/M - Xue Yang/Xiao Xingchen - 12,900 words

No, But I Will Be by lady-of-the-lotus - M/M - Xue Yang/Xiao Xingchen - 4500 words

#fanfic recs #dungeon meshi #god's own country #jennifer's body #orv #lower decks #ladyhawke #lion in winter #oshibudo #red dwarf #severance #the untamed

[aliea82]

Okay, hear me out....Steddie AU based on Ladyhawke!

Seriously, think about it, Steve would be the Wolf by night and Eddie would be the Hawke by day, or whatever animals the author would want them to be.

Henry/Vecna/one would be the bad guy, not sure of how or why he cursed them but he does.

Robin would be Mouse, because as much as Dustin seems like the more likely choice, Robin would be better because she would be the only one to talk Steve down.

Anyways...the Party could show up as ummm helpers of some sort, I don't know.

But that end...when they see each other again...arghhhhh.

I would write this, but I'm having a serious writer's block, so if anyone picks this up I ask please please please tag me!!!!!

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #ao3 author #steve harrington #steve and eddie #steddie drabble #thank you #ao3 #ao3 writer #fanfic promt #fic prompt #prompt #ladyhawke

[spaceofentropy]

It took me longer than foreseen, but it's here! My little entry for @now-showing-at-the-hawk-events 's MetalSandwich Movie Mania! It's 1985 and we're somewhere in sorta Italy, battling a curse that keeps two lovers separated.

Yep. It's Ladyhawke, but with a few twists.

Have fun! <3

#metalsandwich #MetalSandwichMovies23 #billy hargrove #steve harrington #eddie munson #harringroveson #my fanfic #my stuff #ladyhawke AU

[faelid]

Malignatas: Chapter V

Consider this my corpse being driven across the finish line in a hearse. Obviously I can't be trusted with multi-chapter fics...

Let's just pretend I posted this a year ago, yeah?

Malignatas, a KihyunxReader mini-series

Chapter 5: The Storm

WC: 2.2k

Summary: You and Kihyun thought you knew what you were getting into when you decided to make your relationship public. Neither of you were prepared for a curse from a spiteful fan, cast to keep you apart forever.

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4]

It’s a lot to take in, hearing it second hand.

It’s not the shock floors that you, leaves you stupefied. It’s that you didn’t see it coming. And somehow, it seems like you should have.

The recording continues, but you don’t hear anything else. Kihyun’s frozen face, a mirror to your own, looks like he still can’t believe what he’s telling you. It would be funny in a different lifetime. Today, it’s lost on you.

An avalanche of thought drowns out the silence, and you don’t notice the others coming back, voices talking amongst themselves.

Does the board know? It seems unlikely. They're usually more concerned about keeping the company profitable, and cutting into Kihyun’s practice time is unlikely to get them the results they desire. Which means it's personal?

But why? And why Kihyun? He can’t have been the first idol to date someone; in fact, you know for fact that he’s not the first to have a relationship, let alone a longer one.

Were you the target? Did you do something to offend someone, other than dating an idol? Hard to see how, when you were no one of any import.

Should you even stay? Is it worth pushing back against Starship of all people, when Kihyun is still under contract; when the others are still under contract? Will fighting back now just bring everyone else down with you?

It’s a torrent of agony; yes, I want this over with and but what about everyone else, pitting you against your compassion, your friends. What if confronting them isn’t enough? How can you possibly stop someone at that level, prevent them from lashing out again later?

It takes more than one knock at the door to startle you out of your reverie. Changkyun eventually has to stick his head in, carefully looking anywhere but at you, and it’s his voice that grounds you.

“Noona? Are you…okay?” He bites his lip, and you choke down your panic. The answer is “obviously not”, but it’s hard to know what else to say besides "yes".

You can’t blame him. “We brought you fried chicken. You can’t eat in here, though.” He doesn’t say alone, but you hear it anyway.

You fake optimism until your cheeks hurt and you’re sure the mask is fading, impatience crinkling in your eyes. They do their best to distract you, to fill you in on the details of their plan – none of them seem to share your concerns, not thinking past having an end in sight. You wish it could be that easy for you, and you know you’re being ungrateful because they’ve had a long night, and they’ve clearly been thinking things through – Jooheon and Minhyuk fall asleep against each other on the couch before you’re free to sneak away, when Hyungwon and Changkyun, too calm to drown out your thoughts, can’t keep the anxiety at bay any longer.

It calls for another round of poorly scrawled messages for Kihyun, a personal diary cum deeply emotional penpal letter. You outline drawbacks, potential solutions, things he maybe hadn't quite thought of, yet.

It’s not that the plan is lacking; between what you gathered earlier and replaying the end of Kihyun’s video message, the whole thing is rather sound. It has padding built-in, enough to support the most pressing outstanding question – how much time does you have during the eclipse?

Packing the go-bag is harder than it looks, but it makes for a nice distraction. The outfit you feel strongest in, the most put-together – no reason to show up slovenly; you don’t want to give Kim Ha Jun the satisfaction of even a minute victory.

***

When the day finally comes, they leave Kihyun to fend for himself. The backpack goes with Minhyuk to one of the nearer practice rooms, close enough to barrel down the hall if needed; secure enough to wait a few hours if she changes at the beginning of the eclipse.

Kihyun eyes the door before him, the gold lettering glinting at him like a challenge, and grits his teeth. He would be CEO one day. He would make Starship a better place for all idols, for anyone in the entertainment industry. A refuge. At the helm of Starship, he’d take the K-pop industry to a future they’d hardly dared to believe in.

Eventually.

But first things first. A calming breath, straighten the sweater – a knock at the door.

The appointment was scheduled; he’d been expected. But Kim Ha Jun feigned surprise at his presence, anyway. A joyous, imagine-seeing-you-here response to his knock, gesturing him in like they hadn’t seen each other in years, offering refreshments.

Kihyun perches uncomfortably on the edge of the leather sofa and tries to ignore it, just like he’d always politely ignored the man’s terrible taste in cologne, secure in the knowledge that he’d always have warning before Kim Ha Jun showed up.

“Kihyun!” The man bellows. “Have you seen your charts for this month? Streaming is still high – better than we expected, don’t you think?” The man who was CEO of Starship wasn’t endowed with a fatherly aura, but it didn’t stop him from trying. The result was a discomfiting dissonance of corporate interest and the misplaced boundaries of an overly-friendly uncle. “You have great things ahead of you, my boy, great things!”

Kihyun suppresses a shudder and smiles instead. “Only with your vision and guidance, sir. None of us would be here without you.” Ha Jun smiles, pleased with the compliment, and Kihyun glances surreptitiously at his watch. He’d prepared conversational topics – questions, ideas – in the event that he has to stall for up to an hour.

Except right now, he can’t remember any of them, and it’s been less than ten minutes.

He falls back on the safest, most surefire way to keep oneself out of a conversation with a narcissist:

He asks for Kim Ha Jun’s opinion.

---

When you walk through the door nineteen minutes and thirty-six seconds later, Kihyun could nearly melt with relief, and not just because he’s seeing you in person for the first time in over a year. That part feels too surreal to even put a thought to, like an apparition he’d caught out of the corner of his eye, except it was standing in front of him.

You were standing in front of him. In front of both of them.

Kim Ha Jun, though, looks more surprised than anything. Eyebrows raised to the sky, he frowns. “You’re still around?”

The way he says it scares you, a free admission of guilt. Confronted with a problem he thought resolved ages ago. As if you were meant to have vanished entirely, a speck of lint flicked carelessly off his lapel.

A lapel you only barely restrain yourself from grabbing, from shaking until the last oily strands of hair fell from his head.

“I don’t believe we’ve met in person.” You say, rigid with anger at his dismissal. Kihyun moves to your side, lends you the protection of his presence. “But yes, I am still here. I’m here and I’m pissed off, in case you were wondering. You took away six months out of my life, out of Kihyun’s career, which for all intents and purposes should be a major detriment to the company and for what? Because you didn’t like me? Because I wasn’t good enough for your idol?” With no attempt at moderation, your tone rises, and you find yourself trying not to lose your breath by the end.

Kim Ha Jun still looks unaffected. He doesn’t disrespect you further by refilling his glass, but he inspects it as if it were tempting.

“It wasn’t meant to last. You were a distraction. You would become more of a distraction. Kihyun is in the prime of his career. I can’t afford to have him moping about over a heartbreak – let the other companies lose their fortunes over women and relationships.”

“How was this not a distraction?!” Kihyun bursts. “Do you know what we’ve been through? How agonizing it has been? I wouldn’t have thrown away my career over a break-up – I’d have been sad and gotten over it, like anyone else. That’s normal. That’s life.”

The glass slams onto the table, and you both startle. Ha Jun braces himself on the desk. “It wasn’t meant to be a continued distraction.” He says, eyes flashing. “I was…expediting the matter. Once she was over you, once she decided that ‘idols were too much effort’ – “ he says it mockingly, and suddenly it’s very, very clear that this is about more than you and Kihyun – “then *poof*. You’d be all back to normal Kihyun, and she’d be out of your life for good; all problems solved.”

“And what about her? What would have happened? You think we just…wouldn’t see each other again, that I wouldn’t wonder what had happened to her?” Kihyun is bristling, his face bright red.

Ha Jun smiles a slow, nasty smile. “You’d have a new, one of kind watch, my young flexer.”

The enormity of his implication makes the silence stretch around it. Diabolical enough to forcibly separate you, but setting it up to make you disappear, to punish you for choosing yourself over the farce your life had become? Rather than murdering you outright?

A cold shiver runs down your spine, and your hairs stand on end. In a different world, you might wonder who hurt you? Instead, you fight the gaping maw of terror that's opening, the rapid realization of how horrible a person you face.

"That was not your decision to make!” Kihyun is angry; you both are. But he's also scared, and you can feel his body quivering where it brushes yours. "She had every right to leave me. She had more right to leave me because of you. And she didn't, and I'm grateful. But I never would have blamed her. I would have wanted her to be happy, just like she would have wanted for me." His hand slips into yours, maybe for show, maybe for solidarity. Maybe just for strength.

Neither of you has to do it alone.

"Do you know what that's like? To want someone else to be happy? Whoever she was, she didn't belong to you, Kim Ha Jun." Quieter this time, you're not asking so much as wondering aloud. "She deserved every chance to make her life better, and if being with you didn't improve her life, she had every right to leave."

"She chose me; it's true." Kihyun says, and it's hard to tell who is gripping who harder; both of your knuckles are white, like a storm may come and blow one of you away. "But I also chose her." He glances at you, and you see sorrow in his eyes. "I wish I could have chosen her more often."

It's a confession, but not one you weren't aware of. He'd always worried more about you than himself, would have had you spend your time working your career, your passion, rather than chasing traces of myths and magic.

When you respond, it's to him, and not to Ha Jun. "I love you."

Not "I would do it again"- you'd really, truly rather not. And not "you're worth it", either, because no one could be worth that total loss of self agency. But knowing you could be better? Working together towards that improvement?

That's the partner you want.

Who knows how it may have turned out, without the misdirected vengeance of Kim Ha Jun? Would you be the same people? Would you have become the same strong couple?

In the end, there is no storm. There's no whipping winds or flashes of lightning; just light. Painfully, impossibly bright, it floods the room, blinds you until the only tangible sense you have left is the deathgrip that connects you to Kihyun.

When it fades, Kim Ha Jun is gone.

Standing in the middle of the room, finally free, you find yourself alone with Kihyun at last, both of you human and heaving, emotions still running high. A blanket of silence hovers between you as you lock eyes, and it might have lasted an eternity if not for the alarm on Kihyun’s phone marking the end of the eclipse. 

All it takes is one ragged crook of the lips – it’s from one of your playlists, nothing he’d have ever picked for himself – and then you’re flinging yourself into his arms. You’re not sure who’s holding who, laughing and crying at once as you sink to the floor in a trembling heap.

Surely only a matter of minutes, it still feels like hours could have passed before the rest of the group bursts in, expecting the worst.

The ensuing chaos is a good excuse, but the reality is that neither of you was in any state to notice. It's not until Minhyuk starts to usher everyone back to the dorms for a proper celebration and privacy that someone finds Ha Jun's empty glass lying on the floor in front of the desk.

Next to it is a little analog clock, its little analog brain tick-ticking quietly away. It looks cheap for the room, black plastic and an acrylic cover, more at home in a garage sale from the 90's than in a CEO's office.

You're not sure what will become of it when the board appoints its new CEO, but you don't find it in yourself to care much, either. The door closes soundly behind you, and you don't spare it another thought.

You have the future to consider.

A/N: Epilogue coming tomorrow! Thanks for reading!!

[Epilogue}

#MONSTA X FANFIC #MONSTA X READER #MONSTA X IMAGINES #YOO KIHYUN #IM CHANGKYUN #LEE MINHYUK #CHAE HYUNGWON #LEE JOOHEON #SON HYUNWOO #LADYHAWKE #I did it I finished a multichapter fic #I can end my self-enforced isolation!!

[rhymesswith]

Crossroad

It begins with Zhang Chengling on the run. 

Well, no. It begins with a meeting of eyes across a courtyard in bloom. One pair peering around the shoulder of a prowling dragon, the other from above the coy tilt of a painted fan. However, our guide through this story is a boy named Zhang Chengling and he arrives much later, and so therefore, do we.

Unfortunately for us, Zhang Chengling is a rather poor excuse for a guide. He is not a worldly fellow, nor is he very astute, quick thinking, or imaginative. He is, to put it as kindly as possible, quite simple.

Which is not to say that he is stupid, for he is not. But his life until this point has not required him to be anything other than simple. In his fourteen years he has been coddled by everyone around him. Born the youngest of three healthy sons to an affluent family, his older brothers had already slotted into the rolls of heroic first heir and studious second son, respectively. As for our Chengling, their mother would often refer to him - lovingly - as her ‘little potted plant.’ Like any good potted plant he spent most of his days sitting quietly in sunny corners of the family manor. Pretty to look at, easy to ignore, wanting for nothing.

Because he is a simple boy, there are parts of this story that Zhang Chengling will be slow to comprehend, misunderstand, or altogether fail to notice. For example; as we have already established, Zhang Chengling is running away. But he does not know why, to where, or even from whom he is running.

If Chengling had a mind for politics, like his second brother had, he would have been able to tell us that the imperial court has recently been spiralling into disarray. That the Emperor's health is failing and his death looms imminent over their heads. That, as he dallies on the threshold of the next life, the hierarchy below him has collapsed with various members fighting to claim the seat he will leave behind. That in this chaos nobody is safe from the waves of violence have been sent across the land, seeing targeted assassinations and culling of whole clans as the struggle for power culminates. 

If Chengling had been well versed in martial matters, as his eldest brother was, he might have been able to identify the men who came to their family manor the night before. He might have recognized their plain black uniforms, unburdened by armour, faces obscured by kerchiefs and oiled conical hats. The way they moved through the night, swift and silent, seeming to fall out of the sky already swinging their deadly spears like reapers come to pluck the souls of the damned. The ruthless way they cut through everyone, servant or noble, adult or child, indiscriminate and merciless. The legendary and peerless personal assassins that serve the crown prince himself.      

But our Chengling possesses neither political savvy nor military sense. Here is what he does know. He knows that his entire family is dead, his home has been razed to the ground, and there are people chasing him. He knows the empty stare of his eldest brother’s unseeing eyes, and the death rattle of his second brother’s punctured lung. He knows the sticky warmth of his father’s blood. He knows the clammy cold of his mother’s limp hand. He knows the taste of ash on his tongue, and how fire looks reflected on the black water of the lake.

Above all what Chengling knows is pain. Five days after the end of his old life, pain is his constant companion. Pain from the wound in his side, pain in his feet from walking without rest, pain in his back from sleeping on the ground, pain in his heart when he thinks of what he’s left behind.

His only companion now is a local peasant, a ferryman who had occasionally transported the family to and from town when errands needed running. Chengling knows only that his surname is Li and that by some stroke of luck he had arrived at just the right place and just the right time to save his life. They have been avoiding towns, and limiting their route to remote rural tracks instead of the main road. When they do encounter other travellers, Chengling has been instructed to pretend Mister Li is his grandfather and that they are on their way to their family farm in the west to aid the harvest. 

Chengling had asked, just the once, if they could please just seek sanctuary with of one of his many sworn uncles. But Mister Li firmly denies this request, for he knows what soft, simple Chengling does not. The reality of living under the imperial sky is that grace is as fleeting and as precious as the light of a late summer sun. That as it wanes and the killing frosts come, those clamouring for the last patches of warmth will not hesitate to push others to winter’s clutches to secure their own position. Chengling’s uncles would not risk their lives for the unremarkable youngest son of their dead brother, no matter how beloved he had once been.

It is on the fifth day of Chengling’s new, pain-filled second life that they come to an intersection where their narrow rural path meets the more populous main road. At this crossroad sits a modest rest-stop where weary travellers might shelter for a while under the awning, enjoy some hot tea or wine, water their horses and restock on provisions. Mister Li would usually be inclined to bypass this stop, but he knows his young charge is reaching a breaking point. Weighing the risk of exposure with the benefit of a warm meal and a cushion to sit on, Mister Li allows them to stop at this establishment. 

Unfortunately on this day the odds are against them, and it is here they are caught.

The assassins have been lying in wait for some time. Taking the highway, they had made better time than the old man and exhausted teen, and then doubled back to set their trap at this establishment, correctly assuming the pair would stop. When Chengling sits down at one of the rickety wooden tables, signing in relief to finally be off his feet, he has no idea that the group of plainly dressed merchants sitting the table over are the same men who’d murdered his family. Preoccupied with rubbing his sore calves, the boy is oblivious to the narrowed eyes and bunching muscles of ambush predators about to strike.

Mister Li is inside speaking to the proprietor to arrange for drinks and food when the shouting begins. At the first raised shout and clatter of thrown furniture, he races outside to find his young charge besieged by five grown men who have shed their modest cloaks, revealing the weapons hidden beneath. 

Mister Li, at this point in his life, has nothing to his name. He’d been married twice, both of his wives lost to illness before bearing any children to keep him company in his old age. His prickly disposition, which had only sharpened as the years passed, had not earned him many friendships. In his youth he’d served a handful of years in the imperial army, but had not collected any honours that might have granted him prestige in retirement. Until recently he had his boat, which he used to earn enough coin to keep himself fed, and not much more. 

This perhaps, is why he’d jumped at the chance to protect the Zhang orphan. The family had always been kind to him, generously overpaying for his services, and Zhang Yusen in particular always went out of the way to make pleasant conversation. The man spoke to Mr Li as though they were equals, despite the vast distance between their positions. This kindness, although simple and effortless on Lord Zhang’s part, made a permanent mark on the old man. He’d vowed to find a way to serve Zhang Yusen, and for a labourer with nothing to offer but his life itself, his life is what he now intends to give.

This is why he does not hesitate to throw himself between the child and his assailants. His rusty martial arts are no match for trained soldiers, but his willingness to die buys him a momentary advantage. He shoves the boy behind him and faces down the attackers with nothing but the hunting knife from his belt.

The other patrons shuffle aside to make room for the brawl. Most of them are unfazed by the interruption to their lunch, this sort of thing is not too uncommon on the highways. They watch from a safe distance as Mister Li makes his futile stand, some coins are passed as wagers are placed on how long he'll last, if he’ll manage to take down any of his opponents, what sort of blow might finish him off. None of them are naive enough to bet on the old man to win. 

Zhang Chengling, for his part, pleads with the onlookers for aid with mounting desperation. They all push him aside with barely a glance. Mister Li shouts for the boy to run, but when he tries two of the men seize him under the arms and toss him back towards his attackers, keeping him penned in hopes for a reward when it’s all over. Meanwhile, two of the five assassins have peeled away from old man Li to pursue their true target. They sneer at the sight of the boy’s pale tear-streaked face and take their time toying with him, chasing him lazily, snagging his clothes with the tips of their spears. Unbalanced and dizzy with fright, Zhang Chengling is sent staggering backward into the only table with a person still seated. The impact of of his clumsy limbs upends an open jug of wine, the contents spilling across the tabletop and into the dirt below. 

The lone person who’d been sitting at this table finally stands up. He’s unremarkable at a glance, neither particularly short nor remarkably tall, no longer in the springtime of youth but not yet old, dressed in nondescript robes that give no hint at profession or status. Until this point he’s been ignoring the commotion, continuing with his drinking as if nothing was amiss. He rises slowly now, taking time to arrange his cloak as he does. Zhang Chengling falls at his feet with half an apology, half a prayer on his lips, but the man’s attention skips over the boy like sunlight glancing off a pond. Tilting his head back he regards the attackers from beneath his straw hat and tells them, “That was good wine you just wasted.”

The two assassins exchange disbelieving looks at his nerve. This new fellow, compared to them, is lean to the point of gauntness, and appears to be unarmed. Confronted with fighting men far larger and fiercer than himself he is at the obvious disadvantage, yet the tone of his address resembles a tutor reprimanding unruly students. 

“Step aside!” One of the assassins barks, taking a menacing step forward, brandishing his spear in the man’s face. “That boy there is an enemy of the crown prince, if you assist him you will share his fate.”

The man doesn’t so much as blink, laying two fingers along the blade to push it aside, “That wine.” He repeats, as if the other man had never spoken, “I’d only just had one cup. Who’s going to buy me another?”

“Y-you!” The assassin splutters, “You can die with him then!” And then he lunges, spear in a killing arch towards the man’s neck. 

The speed and grace that the man dodges with is unlike anything Zhang Chengling has ever seen. He’d grown up around martial arts, watching his father and brothers and clan disciples training in the yard every day. But he’d never seen any of them move like this man does now. Dipping neatly around the incoming weapon he glides around the attacker and brings his elbow down between his neck and shoulder, making him drop the spear. He then swings his leg to kick his opponent’s unguarded rear, sending him sprawling forward flat on his face. 

The whole sequence is over in the space of a heartbeat, so quickly that Zhang Chengling’s unrefined eye couldn’t properly follow. Picking up the fallen spear, the graceful stranger twirls it expertly above his head before plunging it down between the prone assassin’s spread legs. The blade skewers his robes and sinks firmly into the mud below, effectively pinning him in place. To add insult upon injury the stranger snaps his fingers at the fallen man and barks, “Stay!” In much the same way a master would command a dog.

Meanwhile, Mister Li has been faring admirably against his own opponents considering his dramatic disadvantage. But by now he is flagging, exhausted and bleeding from several bad wounds. Seeing their comrades’ predicament, two more of the soldiers peel away to join the forth, fanning put in a semicircle around the dark clothed stranger while the other finishes the old man off with a final brutal slash to the gut. Zhang Chengling scoots back to shelter behind the stranger, confused but sensing that the odds have somehow miraculously tipped for him.  

One of the attackers pulls a name seal from his belt, stamped with the eight-pointed star that identifies him as a member of the crown prince’s personal army. “You are interfering with imperial business! If you continue to resist you will be persecuted as a traitor!”

Rolling his shoulders, the stranger doesn’t even spare him a glance. “Are you coming at me one at a time or all at once? Personally I would suggest a strategic retreat but you all look too stupid to know what’s good for you.”

The leader gapes, “Who the hell do you think you are?”

From his place on the ground Chengling can only see a sliver of his saviour’s profile, but he catches a flash of a humourless smile. “I am your grandfather. Now come bend over for your thrashing!”

Outraged, the four soldiers charge forward as one, but their spears find empty air as the man leaps straight upward, lighting briefly on their interlocked blades using them as a springboard to flip into a series of flying kicks that send all of them reeling backward. 

Their next approach, once they’re back on their feet, is more cautious. Recognizing the man is more skilled than initially assumed, the soldiers’ next advance is tighter. Yet once again their lone adversary manages to not only fend them off, but land blow after blow, keeping them on the retreat. And he’s doing it with bare hands, weaving and ducking around their weapons, staying close enough to render the spears harmless as twigs. 

It’s obvious the moment it dawns on the squad leader. He freezes where he stands a few paces back, eyes widening as he watches four of his men fail to land even a single hit on their opponent. From his vantage it plays as almost comical; the man’s superior speed and agility makes his soldiers look like clumsy children. There is only one person in the kingdom who is known to possess such advanced footwork. “You! You are-!” The officer stutters, a sudden wave of dread sweeping through him, “Commander Zhou!”

At the sound of the name, all of the fighters’ heads jerk upright. Like their leader, the very name sends a pulse of fear through their hearts. They immediately scramble back to a distance, the confidence they’d possessed coming into the fight evaporating in an instant.  

To Zhang Chengling, still huddled in the dirt, the name ‘Commander Zhou’ means nothing. In fact to most of the population it would be unfamiliar, but to those within the imperial circle, the figure is one of near mythological status. Even after his disgraceful departure from court and subsequent designation as outlaw, his is a name most only dare to whisper. He is a boogeyman and a demigod wrapped into one, the notorious half-dragon assassin that stalked the court of the crown prince for the past decade. These soldiers are of too low a rank to have ever met their founder in person, but they’d each been shaped in the fiery kiln of his construction. His declaration of himself as their grandfather was not brazen arrogance but a fact! He had written the very doctrine upon which they had sworn their lives, and composed every strategy they’d been taught. No wonder they could not touch him.

Upon the revelation of his identity, Commander Zhou smiles another hollow smile. With no more reason to hold back, he reaches into the folds of his cloak to finally draw his concealed sword from it’s hiding place. At the sight, the five soldiers fall over themselves to put more distance between themselves and the man. That gleaming white sword, deceptively pretty and delicate, is as much a legend as the man that wields it. It is said that the Baiyi sword has absorbed so much blood that it seeks it like a compass seeks true north, like meltwater to the sea, like a flower turning to face the sun. That it thirsts for blood and once drawn, it will not rest until it wets its blade. 

In this moment Zhang Chengling is all but forgotten. The price on the child’s head is less than pittance compared to the one on this man. The soldiers exchange frantic looks, torn between the instinct to flee guaranteed death upon Commander Zhou’s sword, and the knowledge that they’d be signing their own execution warrant if the crown prince hears that they’d let him get away. 

Realistically they are fated to die no matter which choice they make, this was sealed the moment the wine jug overturned. They cannot hope to defeat Commander Zhou alone, their only chance is to alert reinforcements to their position and hope that the crown prince is grateful enough to grant their families a generous settlement for their service. 

The squad leader grabs one of his soldiers, the youngest and smallest of their company and shoves him towards where their horses are tethered. “Go!” He barks at the terrified soldier, “Ride for the fort as hard as you can. Tell them we’ve found the traitor Zhou, tell them to send a battalion. Now!”

As the soldier scrambles to comply, the remaining four round on their former leader, their new objective to distract him long enough for their comrade to get away. They almost succeed; the rider has nearly reached the bend in the road where the forest would shield him when the crossbow bolt strikes. The arrow pierces him through the neck, killing him instantly, his mount carrying his body out of sight just a moment too late.

From across the clearing Commander Zhou lowers his bow, knowing without needing to check that his aim had been true. Stepping over the four sprawled bodies, he meanders back to his table and retrieves the fallen wine jug, lifting it above his head to catch the last trickle of liquid. Satisfied that not a drop of liquor is being left behind, he proceeds to gather his pack and makes for his own horse, clearly set on departure. 

The feeble croak barely reaches his ears, a man with less keen hearing than his would not have picked it up. But the former commander has spent his whole life honing his five senses and so he does hear the whispered words. “Wait! Please…! For the love of Lord Qin…”

Commander Zhou turns back, his features as rigid and cold as an ivory carving, “What did you just say?”

It’s the old peasant man, still alive for the time being though his life is waning fast. He fixes Commander Zhou with eyes that are growing dim, but still manages a piercing glare. “Others may have forgotten, but I am old enough to remember. Zhou Zishu. Your master…Qin Huaizhang…was an honourable man.”

“....He was.” Commander Zhou agrees stiffly, reluctantly, one hand fisted in his horse’s reins. 

The dying man raises one skinny hand and beckons Zhang Chengling to his side. “This boy is the son of Zhang Yusen.” He rasps, “A sworn brother of your master at the time of his death. This makes him your kin by oath. If you truly loved your master, take this boy and protect him from those who mean him harm.”

Commander Zhou’s stony face folds at this, revealing a cold fury at the nerve of this old man to invoke such a shameless manipulation. “How dare you!”

“Peh! Why wouldn’t I dare when I stand with a foot on Naihe bridge? They say that you are a cold hearted monster, Lord Zhou, but I think you are not so cold hearted as to leave this helpless child to die. Not with your master watching from heaven.”

Zhou Zishu rolls his head back as if to look up into the aforementioned heavens. At that moment a shadow flicks briefly across his upturned face. Far above their heads a bird cuts an arc across the sun, the leisurely spiral of a hunting hawk. Something shifts on his face as he follows the bird’s path, something deep and heavy and weary turning over in his dark eyes. He heaves a long sigh. “Fine. Come here boy.”

The boy does not come. Trembling, Zhang Chengling clutches at Mister Li’s hand, unwilling to leave his side. “Go!” The old man wheezes, his breath rapidly failing him, “Are you deaf, scram! You aren’t my problem anymore, just leave me to die in peace! Ungrateful brat!” With the last of his strength, he manages a hard shove that knocks the boy away from him. 

Once Zhang Chengling is close enough Zhou Zishu catches him by the belt and uses it to heave him off his feet and up onto his waiting horse. Changeling only just barely manages to keep himself from tipping off the other side. Hopping into the saddle in front of him the man says over his shoulder, “Hold on tight, if you fall off I’m not going to stop.”

#word of honor #word of honor fanfic #wenzhou #zhou zishu #wen kexing #zhang chengling #ladyhawke au #ladyhawke fic #this would be the first chapter in the long fic that may or may not ever see the light of day #it would follow ZCL for the most part #his perspective of the story #the prequel stuff with wenzhou being separate bonus ficlets #anyway artblock is a helluva thing #but heres this at least

[justhannigramfics]

Has anyone else seen the movie Ladyhawke? Anyone else thought it could potentially be a very good Hannigram AU?

#I haven’t watched it in forever #but it came to mind today #and as I am wont to do #I immediately thought of how I could write it as hannigram #so that might go on the list #fanfic #hannigram fic #hannibal fanfiction #hannigram #fanfiction #hannigram fanfiction #ladyhawke

[trash-gobby]

What Do You Want To See Me Write Next!

For some reason tumblr isn't a fan of my outside links 😂

Here is the link to where you can vote what you want me to write an original multi-chapter or short fic!

LINK HERE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU WANT TO SEE NEXT :D

#what should i write #google poll #poll #fanfic poll #survey #fanfic survey #umbrella academy #horror fandom #slasher fandom #stranger things #flatliners #the lost boys 1987 #jurassic park #james bond #heathers #streets of fire #near dark #legend 1985 #stardust 2007 #ladyhawke #the goonies #arcane #hellboy #labyrinth 1986 #nightbreed #evil dead #mcu #the boys #invincible #criminal minds

[darylas]

Started on a fun little project inspired by my reread of @indiefic’s fantastic Ladyhawke fic! Everyone drop what you’re doing and read it! And if you haven’t seen the 1985 film, do yourself a favor and give it a watch. Trust me, it’s got Michelle Pfeiffer, curses, medieval romance, synth music, and more.

#steggy #ladyhawke #wip #marvel #peggy carter #steve rogers #fanfic #mending the empty bones

[heohl-art]

I found a wonderful fanfic on ao3, so I had to make a fanart out of it! If anyone has seen (and loved) #Ladyhawke go read it!

[Ladycrowe, by Augenblickgotter]

#good omens fanart #good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fandom #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #ladyhawke

[artfulusername]

Fuck. I do not need another fanfic that I'm likely never going to write. But I'm going to just put it out into the universe:

Dreamling Ladyhawke AU.

Morpheus would be the bird by day. Hob would be the wolf by night. Yeah. That makes sense.

Okay. We'll add it to the ever-growing list. Maybe my brain will let me write again someday.

#Tegan Talks #I write stuff sometimes #Fanfic #Dreamling #This plot bunny keeps biting my ankles

[yurghosthost]

Can someone PLEASE write a Ladyhawke au cherik fanfic now that we're reviving this ship?!?! I'm so depressed to find out the one by Yahtzee is no longer accessible and I need this au in my life 😭

#cherik #revivecherik #charles xavier x erik lehnsherr #erik lensherr x charles xavier #xmen #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #professor x #magneto #fanfic

[chiropteracupola]

(Fanfic last words ask game) Silhouette, rifle, choir~

from some vague pirates of the caribbean scribblings:

The last glance he’ll ever get is of her, standing silhouetted against that cascade of brilliant coin-golden clouds, waving back at him. She’ll doff her hat and let the wind set her hair to streaming like a pennant, and he’ll clutch his telescope a little tighter as she turns, but all the same he will let her go again.

from the sharpe ladyhawke au:

“If’n I had my rifle, sir,” said Hagman sorrowfully, and shook his head. “I could do it but easily. You can’t set snares for a sergeant the same way as you might for a hare.” “No, s’pose not,” said Sharpe.

and no instances for choir!

#em writes stuff #em is posting about sharpe #for the second one it was Deeply amusing since I went through every document one by one finding nothing #and then opened the sharpe one last and 'ah thirteen instances what a surprise that is' #they are hunting hakeswill by the way. knife monopoly style.

[plothooksinc]

5, 11, 58 for fanfic ask game?

I'M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I pulled a muscle by stretching because hypermobility sucks as you get older and then I was like where is the meme did I leave it in my other pocket and then @shadowbends provided me a link like the goddess she is--

5. have you ever made a playlist about something you were writing as an elaborate means to procrastinate when you could have been actually writing and if yes drop a link, son

Mkay first off, HUSH STRIKEOUT I WOULD NEVER (I totally have)

I have two writing playlists. One is a general sweep TMNT stuff for all my different projects and is always in flux-- I put in songs I think of, songs attached to AMVs, official soundtrack stuff, suggestions from other people, and heck other people's playlists and then peel out the stuff I don't like (or associate too heavily with other stuff) because half the time all I need is "people associate this song with the guys" and that works for me. (It's also introduced me to a whole range of bands I really like.) It's here. It's not for any particular project, though, it's Literally Any Time I Open Up A TMNT Fic. (I have a skip button, I use it.)

The other one is a specific playlist for Zaibatsu Project with a heavy cyberpunk bent to it, and you can find it here. I did have a FFVII playlist for Misconduct, but that never made the jump to Spotify so I can't link that one. |D And I was making a MDZS/Ladyhawke inspired playlist for a... project... but that never got off the ground, so shh.

11. what’s something neat you’ve learned while doing research for something you were writing? also, how much do you worry about doing research in general?

I probably worry too much like every other writer out there, lmao. Uhh but I've learned a lot of fun stuff over the years! How long it takes to freeze to death, the different conductivity of heat away from the human body by various degrees of metal and moisture, a whole bunch of survival tactics for blizzard and avalanche conditions (yeah guess which fic I was researching here) and then the pile of fascinating stuff about NY underground because /gestures at the entire TMNT EU. Most things I learn are literally wounds and survival based because of the stuff I write, and a lot of different explosives and drugs because of the stuff I write, and I really should have a sticker saying Relax I'm A Writer up on my front door for when ASIO rocks up or some such...

58. what is the last thing that a fic made you google when you were writing it?

Side bar: Tumblr why can I not copy/paste more than one line anymore WTF Actually. The very mundane traditional roast dinner to make sure it was something that Americans actually did b/c Australia is very British-coded and I had one of those no-thoughts-head-empty times where I was like "wait, is this also a US thing???" Turns out it is with some mild variations, so OKAY THEN. (Very dull answer, I know.)

Thank you for the questions! <3

Meme is here.

#ask meme #@iwillkeepfighting