WIP Meme
gakked from merelyfic
The rules:
When you see this, post a little weensy excerpt from as many random works-in-progress as you can find lying around. Who knows? Maybe inspiration will burst forth and do something, um, inspiration-y.
Four fic experpts (two from an ancient Smallville fic and two from overdue comics fic-a-thons); I've more, but I've run out of time to post...
All unbeta'd due to the nature of the meme.
I started writing "Fall of Krypton" in 2006 and I'm still not done. Yet, I also still come back to it now and then...*sigh*
This part is Lara Lor-Van and her grandmother Nara before Lara's wedding.
Fandom Smallville
Title Fall of Krypton, Part Two: Lara
Pairings/Characters Lara Lor-Van, Nara
Lara began each morning with her arms outstretched in supplication to Rao. Her form was enveloped by the nurturing red warmth of the Divine. It grounded her body, invigorated her spirit, and calmed her mind. She reveled in these moments, contented and at peace, confident in the rightness of her Destiny. She moved deliberately through her morning ritual, each action one of poise and grace.
Her grandmother entered the maiden's chamber and with her arrival, Lara's equilibrium scattered as the mundane realities of the day invaded her mind. Today she would marry Jor-El, the deluded, insufferable scientist thrust upon her by the MatriComp Council! Lara closed her eyes and let herself fall in an undignified heap onto her bed. An instant later, she felt Nara's soothing hand across her brow, immediately relieving her anxiety. Nara always had the ability to bring her peace and it was for this reason, despite her mother's misgivings, Lara had chosen her grandmother as praematron.
Nara sang a hymn, the melody lulling and intoxicating. Lara listened carefully, as she was a scribe and the stories of Krypton were her vocation. She loved the stories of her people and believed passing them on to be one of her world’s higher callings, uniting the past with the present and the future. Besides, it was beautiful; a song from a time long past when Krypton was still a world of wars between people and even the heavens.
Logical and rational Wegthor and sensitive and passionate Mithen shunned one another, believing the other’s contributions to the heavens insignificant in comparison to it’s own. Yuda, Goddess of the Moons (and also of Love) tired of their animosity and tied the two moons together, so they would learn to get along. Once so bound, the moons would fly from each other, moving farther apart day after day, until they would reach the limits of their tether and be irresistibly pulled towards one another again. At first, their repulsion was so great, their time apart was much longer than their time together. Eventually, however, they each began to see how the attributes of the other were complementary to itself. When this happened, they would inch closer together more frequently. As they spent more time together, they saw how they were inextricably linked, so that the day came when they could no longer bear to be apart for more than a few cycles each day. Thus was the wisdom of Yuda.
Lara felt a deep sadness. She had considered the loss of life caused by Wegthor’s destruction, of course. The moon itself had harbored a mining colony, now destroyed. The debris had not reached Krypton’s surface, but sudden magnetic changes had caused numerous earthquakes and tsunamis. Millions of people had died. Lara had even known some of them peripherally.
However, the most drastic change to Lara had been the delay of her marriage, for which she was secretly grateful. In truth, it was difficult to observe much difference in Krypton's day to day happenings than from before the disaster. Within a day, stability had been restored to the realm. The oceans returned to a relative calm, the cities cleared and cleaned, and the people memorialized. The peoples' grief rumbled beneath the surface of the society. Lara had heard it in the tremulous voices of those she interviewed; they clung to their faith, cooly remarking that their losses were simply Destiny, that pain is a part of life, and that we all must die in turn.
She remembered most remarkably the story of a mother who had lost her newborn son. The woman's voice had been strong, but her eyes vacant, as she told Lara her story of how she had clung to her boy as she tried to climb out of the reach of the incoming waves. How despite how tight she gripped, he was wrenched from her and carried away, she knew not where. The mother explained how she now held onto hope that her boy survived against all odds. She needed this to carry on her life with any kind of meaning. A loss so profound was beyond Lara's experience.
For Lara, personally, the loss was in little things, like the simple absence of Wegthor’s presence in the sky. She would look up expecting to see the partners, and see merely one where there should be two. Now, she pondered the Song of Yuda, searching for its significance in a world where the song’s tale was now defunct.
Nara began to work, pulling forth wide ruby ribbons, and binding Lara with them. She wrapped the ribbon around her fingertips and then her hands, progressing up her arms, and then moving the ribbon down and around her torso. Lara remained quiet, as she was ritually dressed for the momentous day.
Finally, she spoke, seeking the wisdom of her praematron. “Nara, I can see how that song was relevant when Wegthor and Mithen were still consorts in our sky, but what good is their partnership now that it has been destroyed? I can find no solace in their story. Yuda was cruel, to bind them to a love ultimately doomed.”
“Do you feel all love now doomed, child?” She tugged a little harder as she continued to cover Lara’s body with the thick ruby ribbon. “Yuda herself has long since departed. Do we still seek her approval to bless our unions?”
Lara was stunned by the near blasphemy. Rao had defeated the lesser gods of the pantheon in an ancient age. He was now the only God of Krypton. “Of course not.” She spoke softly, watching her grandmother’s worn hands work.
“When we look to the night sky, do we see only Mithen? Or do we also see a radiance dancing around us and her?” Lara thought of the soft light low in the sky each night since the large moon’s destruction. She realized her grandmother was right; the contentment of her early morning filled her once more. All was right with her world and her marriage today would only bring further understanding of her Destiny.
Another excerpt from "Fall of Krypton", this time Kal-El's Appellation Rite from Raya's PoV. I've really struggled with the action before this section and I've been contemplating re-writing this part due to it's not quite lining up with Smallville canon anymore...
Fandom Smallville
Title Fall of Krypton, Part Four: Raya
Pairings/Characters Raya, Jor-El/Lara, J'onn J'onzz
Only because of Lara's great fealty and Jor-El's generosity of spirit, Raya repeated to herself. She would never have agreed to venture forth onto the southern continent for any reason besides their friendship, despite the honor the invitation bestowed. As much as she admired them, she was often struck by the paradox of their particular blend of traditions and innovation.
The terrain was troubling. It was cold here, the air sharp. The snow dusted tundra seemed to spread forever into the distance, unmitigated. Time was trudging forth at a mercilessly slow pace. She closed her eyes. To stave off boredom, Raya ran calculations in her head for the latest projector modifications. Her escort sighed. “Never gets old does it.”
“Excuse me?” Politely, she opened her eyes to converse. She found herself speechless in shock. Used to the habitat bubbles and sleek alloys of the cities, she marveled at the spires of crystal reaching high into the unfiltered ruddy sky. It's raw beauty spoke to her. She stopped sulking and smiled proudly at the ancient building. This belonged to her people. Uniquely Kryptonian. “Never”, she whispered.
Raya's pride turned to humility when she entered Rao's Temple. It's glorious, soft radiance permeated every space, even through her weary body. Lara's faith had often puzzled her skeptical nature, but in this place Raya finally understood. This space was sacred. She could feel it.
Her guide brought her to a small chamber high in the labyrinthine structure, then silently left. She found she was the last to arrive, as all five others were already in the room. Jor-El spoke in hushed tones with his strange, off-world confidante, while Lara cuddled her baby close, her eyes closed as she hummed and swayed. The priest, the picture of dignity, greeted her warmly as she entered. Raya bowed slightly in deference, and tried not to run to her mentor.
Jor-El and his companion acknowledged her arrival and continued their conversation. It seemed Jor-El was nervous. She heard the visitor's reassurances, “I am confident whatever is chosen shall be suitable. It is Destiny, whatever the choice, yes?” he teased. The man quite obviously, didn't believe in their faith. Frankly, she wasn't sure she did, either. She did, however, feel obligated to defend her friends. She opened her mouth to retort to the interloper, when the priest interrupted.
“Life has many choices. Acceptance of our limitations and what is beyond our hands is one of life's most important tests. Taking what Destiny bestows with a peaceful heart creates limitless potentials.”
Raya resisted rolling her eyes at the tired platitude. She understood that Jor-El welcomed the guidance. She was disturbed by the priest's next words, though.
“You, my son, would be wise to embrace Rao's gifts, rather than turn from them.”
Jor-El had blushed and hung his head, but his nostrils had flared and his posture remained erect. He was angry. His strange companion seemed to sense this, and clapped his hand to his shoulder in solidarity. Raya twitched, both wishing she had the nerve to be that bold, and scandalized this man would take such liberties.
The priest chimed the tone for the House of El. A crystal altar rose in the center of the room. Lara placed the infant on the altar, where he stirred, but did not cry. Everyone gathered around him, forming the ritual shield with the priest at the apex furthest from the child, the witnesses taking places even with the child, but parallel to the priest, with the parents slightly closer to the child, but further from the priest. As Lara's invited witness, Raya's attention turned to her. One sleek, dark curl escaped onto her brow from her carefully covered head, Lara compelled her attention, as a preternatural calm surrounded her.
It had been so long since she had witnessed that equilibrium. Motherhood had changed her old friend. Raya missed Lara's tenacious drive, her capacity for the unexpected and inspired. In the several months since the child's birth, Lara had withdrawn from public life. Raya dearly missed her friendship and resented the infant who had taken its comfort from her.
Raya recognized that perhaps her unrest did not entirely stem from the baby's demands on her friend. The crippling terror her home had been subjected to didn't help her security. It did, however, give her purpose and working on the Phantom Zone with Jor-El filled her with a certain contentment. At least, there was retribution. The child offered no justice.
Still, she could not refuse the honor of bearing witness to the infant's appellation rite. The priest reminded them all of Krypton's sparse population. Of the rare gift a child represented. Of the sacred trust bestowed upon those fortunate enough to be granted an offspring. She watched as Jor-El's eyes locked with Lara's and Raya felt suddenly an intruder. She looked to the invited intruder, Jor-El's chosen witness. He observed the ritual with a graceful strength. Did he understand the confidence they were being presented? To vigilantly stand guard, to not interfere unless absolutely necessary. To witness the unfolding Destiny of an entire life. A sacred bond. The alien's eyes glowed red.
Raya looked to the boy. He was brightly aware, his round eyes intent and accepting. The priest held forth a glowing crystal, invoking Rao's avatar. “Grant your gift a name. Give his Destiny form.” The response was immediate. The altar was enveloped in an ethereal light, bathing the baby's body and raising him above the altar. A voice spoke from amongst and beyond them. “KAL-EL”. Star-Child.
Written for coldfiredragon's Summer of Cliches Fic-a-thon
prompt: "YES, that IS our kid."
Well it's obviously not summer anymore. :/ But, here's the beginning anyway...
Fandom DC Comics (Batfamily)
Title 100% Sure
Pairings/Characters Alfred Pennyworth PoV, Dick Grayson/Cheyenne Freemont/Jason Todd
Oprah was pre-empted. The talk show was his indulgence. One hour of diversion while he attended to his duties in the staff kitchen. He admired the woman’s sharp wit, business skills, and especially her ability to meet amiably with most anyone and coax the sordid poignant details from their lives. It was a needed respite from the formidable emotional walls he encountered daily with his boys. Of course, his young charges were not present. Master Bruce was in Bialya on business (both Wayne Tech and Justice League); Master Timothy had not yet returned from high school; while Masters Richard and Jason had long since departed residence in Alfred’s abode. Alfred blew out a dignified sigh.
There was no way to avoid their absence (or Oprah’s), so he flicked the channel to a more philistine talk show host. The lady (Alfred used the term loosely) was promising assistance to a distraught woman seeking to determine her child‘s paternity.
"Tonight we have a very special episode. The famous fashion designer, Cheyenne Fremont is here today with a strirring dilemma. Cheyenne is well known not only for her innovative and striking designs, but also for a certain free spirited love life. Today that exuberance has had terrible consequences; she does not know who the father is of her lovely toddler son."
At that a video screen was shown of a bright blue-eyed, black-haired slender toddler. He was doing somersaults on a little mat and grinning from ear to ear. "Oh dear," mouthed Alfred at the frightening recognition. As the video played a voice-over was heard, "I found out I was pregnant at a wild time in my life. I was enjoying my success and accepting the power offered me as a woman. I was shocked when my birth control failed, but I just couldn't end this little life. I am so happy I made that choice as he has meant so much to me. My only regret is not knowing who his father is. He deserves to know his heritage. I'm not asking for money - I certainly don't need it - or involvement. Jacob has plenty of positive male role models in his life. I just want him to have the answers he may want later."
"Ladies and gentleman, we are here to help her and her adorable little boy, Jacob. Please join me in welcoming Cheyenne Freemont."
A chorus of applause, boos, and laughter accompanied Cheyenne as she took the stage. Her video hadn't completely endeared her to the audience and Alfred was struck by the general attitude of derision. The ginger-haired woman was tall, curvaceous, and beautiful, though her fatigue was clear to Alfred despite the mass of cosmetics covering her face.
Written for dcmarvelthon
prompt: sister_wolf's "Don't even try to tell me that you can't dance, Captain."
A wee snippet out of the middle section...
Fandom Marvel Comics/DC Comics
Title untitled
Pairings/Characters Captain America (Steve Rogers)/Lady Blackhawk (Zinda Blake)
He wasn't sure why he went to the Clover Club that night. Something to do with the comforts of home - something to do maybe with looking for a bit of comfort from his youth in New York. All he knew was that now that he was here, he really didn't want to be.
Usually when Bucky was given a special assignment, Cap was given one too. It kept them both busy and happy. Today however, Bucky was gone and Cap was on leave - orders from Brass about mental health and the nation's morale. It was times like this - when all Cap could do was THINK - that he missed him most.
Having Peggy near helped, but there were things that try as she might, she just couldn't understand. He welcomed her embraces, her laughter, and her comforts...
He saw the jacket before he registered anything else. Black hawk inside a yellow circle on a field of black. She had blonde hair to the middle of her back and long legs which she was kicking to the beat as she drank her beer.
She spotted him next, smiled and offered him that wink she'd offered years ago from the cockpit of her plane. Could it really be he was about to get the answers he'd wanted all along...
He weaved through the undulating bodies, deftly avoiding their touch. She was waiting for him and tipped her cap to him when he arrived. "Hey there, Captain." She recognized him even in civilian attire. He held out his hand, "You know who I am; I'm afraid I can't return the courtesy, Miss..."
"Blake. Zinda Blake. Drink?"
Drink? She was offering him a drink. He had forgotten his manners. "I'm sorry Miss Blake. What would you care to have?"
"Oh, I'm a simple girl. I like simple pleasures." She held up her near empty beer with a sly grin.
He nodded, caught the bartenders attention, and gestured for two more.
"I never thought I'd see you again. There've been times I thought I believed you a guardian angel," he smiled.
"Oh, no. I'm real as rain all right, Cap. Flesh and blood same as you. Not sure how we never caught up with each other 'fore today. The Blackhawks've had our hands full against the Axis. You know what I'm saying..." she trailed off, letting the words hang in the air.
"I'm afraid I haven't heard of your regiment," he bemusedly admitted.
"Not heard of the Blackhawks! Well, golly gee! I know we ain't officially sanctioned by no government, but we're for certain the best flying regiment the Allies' got. You sure you ain't heard of us? You didn't see my poster?" The last was said with a bit of ironic hope.
"Your poster?" Steve was sure he'd remember her poster if he'd seen it.
The awkward moment was saved by the band. "Hey all you swingcats, it's time to stomp your feet! Swing Swisson is here to save the day with swingin' beats!" With that he and his quartet launched into [1940's song].
"Don't tell me you can't dance, Captain." She had slid off the barstool and was extending her arm to Steve.
Caught off his guard, he blushed. "Just a little, ma'am. I'm afraid I don't embellish the steps much."
She grinned. "Let's get out there!" Zinda grabbed his arm and led him onto the crowded dance floor. They stepped into the basic steps of East Coast Swing.
Steve enjoyed the rocking movement, away from her and back close in again. She smelled nice. Like jasmine flowers. Exotic. He wondered where she'd gotten the scent.
He enjoyed the energy of the dance, upbeat to match the tempo of the song. It soothed away his aches, both physical and emotional.
She was beautiful as she danced. Seemingly entirely consumed by rhythm. Her face was peaceful yet lively - a joy in living in her eyes. The big stuff had toughened her up so much, she knew how to savor the small stuff. It reminded him of Bucky.
Feedback, concrit and enthusiasm are precious, loved and adored!
The rules:
When you see this, post a little weensy excerpt from as many random works-in-progress as you can find lying around. Who knows? Maybe inspiration will burst forth and do something, um, inspiration-y.
Four fic experpts (two from an ancient Smallville fic and two from overdue comics fic-a-thons); I've more, but I've run out of time to post...
All unbeta'd due to the nature of the meme.
I started writing "Fall of Krypton" in 2006 and I'm still not done. Yet, I also still come back to it now and then...*sigh*
This part is Lara Lor-Van and her grandmother Nara before Lara's wedding.
Fandom Smallville
Title Fall of Krypton, Part Two: Lara
Pairings/Characters Lara Lor-Van, Nara
Lara began each morning with her arms outstretched in supplication to Rao. Her form was enveloped by the nurturing red warmth of the Divine. It grounded her body, invigorated her spirit, and calmed her mind. She reveled in these moments, contented and at peace, confident in the rightness of her Destiny. She moved deliberately through her morning ritual, each action one of poise and grace.
Her grandmother entered the maiden's chamber and with her arrival, Lara's equilibrium scattered as the mundane realities of the day invaded her mind. Today she would marry Jor-El, the deluded, insufferable scientist thrust upon her by the MatriComp Council! Lara closed her eyes and let herself fall in an undignified heap onto her bed. An instant later, she felt Nara's soothing hand across her brow, immediately relieving her anxiety. Nara always had the ability to bring her peace and it was for this reason, despite her mother's misgivings, Lara had chosen her grandmother as praematron.
Nara sang a hymn, the melody lulling and intoxicating. Lara listened carefully, as she was a scribe and the stories of Krypton were her vocation. She loved the stories of her people and believed passing them on to be one of her world’s higher callings, uniting the past with the present and the future. Besides, it was beautiful; a song from a time long past when Krypton was still a world of wars between people and even the heavens.
Logical and rational Wegthor and sensitive and passionate Mithen shunned one another, believing the other’s contributions to the heavens insignificant in comparison to it’s own. Yuda, Goddess of the Moons (and also of Love) tired of their animosity and tied the two moons together, so they would learn to get along. Once so bound, the moons would fly from each other, moving farther apart day after day, until they would reach the limits of their tether and be irresistibly pulled towards one another again. At first, their repulsion was so great, their time apart was much longer than their time together. Eventually, however, they each began to see how the attributes of the other were complementary to itself. When this happened, they would inch closer together more frequently. As they spent more time together, they saw how they were inextricably linked, so that the day came when they could no longer bear to be apart for more than a few cycles each day. Thus was the wisdom of Yuda.
Lara felt a deep sadness. She had considered the loss of life caused by Wegthor’s destruction, of course. The moon itself had harbored a mining colony, now destroyed. The debris had not reached Krypton’s surface, but sudden magnetic changes had caused numerous earthquakes and tsunamis. Millions of people had died. Lara had even known some of them peripherally.
However, the most drastic change to Lara had been the delay of her marriage, for which she was secretly grateful. In truth, it was difficult to observe much difference in Krypton's day to day happenings than from before the disaster. Within a day, stability had been restored to the realm. The oceans returned to a relative calm, the cities cleared and cleaned, and the people memorialized. The peoples' grief rumbled beneath the surface of the society. Lara had heard it in the tremulous voices of those she interviewed; they clung to their faith, cooly remarking that their losses were simply Destiny, that pain is a part of life, and that we all must die in turn.
She remembered most remarkably the story of a mother who had lost her newborn son. The woman's voice had been strong, but her eyes vacant, as she told Lara her story of how she had clung to her boy as she tried to climb out of the reach of the incoming waves. How despite how tight she gripped, he was wrenched from her and carried away, she knew not where. The mother explained how she now held onto hope that her boy survived against all odds. She needed this to carry on her life with any kind of meaning. A loss so profound was beyond Lara's experience.
For Lara, personally, the loss was in little things, like the simple absence of Wegthor’s presence in the sky. She would look up expecting to see the partners, and see merely one where there should be two. Now, she pondered the Song of Yuda, searching for its significance in a world where the song’s tale was now defunct.
Nara began to work, pulling forth wide ruby ribbons, and binding Lara with them. She wrapped the ribbon around her fingertips and then her hands, progressing up her arms, and then moving the ribbon down and around her torso. Lara remained quiet, as she was ritually dressed for the momentous day.
Finally, she spoke, seeking the wisdom of her praematron. “Nara, I can see how that song was relevant when Wegthor and Mithen were still consorts in our sky, but what good is their partnership now that it has been destroyed? I can find no solace in their story. Yuda was cruel, to bind them to a love ultimately doomed.”
“Do you feel all love now doomed, child?” She tugged a little harder as she continued to cover Lara’s body with the thick ruby ribbon. “Yuda herself has long since departed. Do we still seek her approval to bless our unions?”
Lara was stunned by the near blasphemy. Rao had defeated the lesser gods of the pantheon in an ancient age. He was now the only God of Krypton. “Of course not.” She spoke softly, watching her grandmother’s worn hands work.
“When we look to the night sky, do we see only Mithen? Or do we also see a radiance dancing around us and her?” Lara thought of the soft light low in the sky each night since the large moon’s destruction. She realized her grandmother was right; the contentment of her early morning filled her once more. All was right with her world and her marriage today would only bring further understanding of her Destiny.
Another excerpt from "Fall of Krypton", this time Kal-El's Appellation Rite from Raya's PoV. I've really struggled with the action before this section and I've been contemplating re-writing this part due to it's not quite lining up with Smallville canon anymore...
Fandom Smallville
Title Fall of Krypton, Part Four: Raya
Pairings/Characters Raya, Jor-El/Lara, J'onn J'onzz
Only because of Lara's great fealty and Jor-El's generosity of spirit, Raya repeated to herself. She would never have agreed to venture forth onto the southern continent for any reason besides their friendship, despite the honor the invitation bestowed. As much as she admired them, she was often struck by the paradox of their particular blend of traditions and innovation.
The terrain was troubling. It was cold here, the air sharp. The snow dusted tundra seemed to spread forever into the distance, unmitigated. Time was trudging forth at a mercilessly slow pace. She closed her eyes. To stave off boredom, Raya ran calculations in her head for the latest projector modifications. Her escort sighed. “Never gets old does it.”
“Excuse me?” Politely, she opened her eyes to converse. She found herself speechless in shock. Used to the habitat bubbles and sleek alloys of the cities, she marveled at the spires of crystal reaching high into the unfiltered ruddy sky. It's raw beauty spoke to her. She stopped sulking and smiled proudly at the ancient building. This belonged to her people. Uniquely Kryptonian. “Never”, she whispered.
Raya's pride turned to humility when she entered Rao's Temple. It's glorious, soft radiance permeated every space, even through her weary body. Lara's faith had often puzzled her skeptical nature, but in this place Raya finally understood. This space was sacred. She could feel it.
Her guide brought her to a small chamber high in the labyrinthine structure, then silently left. She found she was the last to arrive, as all five others were already in the room. Jor-El spoke in hushed tones with his strange, off-world confidante, while Lara cuddled her baby close, her eyes closed as she hummed and swayed. The priest, the picture of dignity, greeted her warmly as she entered. Raya bowed slightly in deference, and tried not to run to her mentor.
Jor-El and his companion acknowledged her arrival and continued their conversation. It seemed Jor-El was nervous. She heard the visitor's reassurances, “I am confident whatever is chosen shall be suitable. It is Destiny, whatever the choice, yes?” he teased. The man quite obviously, didn't believe in their faith. Frankly, she wasn't sure she did, either. She did, however, feel obligated to defend her friends. She opened her mouth to retort to the interloper, when the priest interrupted.
“Life has many choices. Acceptance of our limitations and what is beyond our hands is one of life's most important tests. Taking what Destiny bestows with a peaceful heart creates limitless potentials.”
Raya resisted rolling her eyes at the tired platitude. She understood that Jor-El welcomed the guidance. She was disturbed by the priest's next words, though.
“You, my son, would be wise to embrace Rao's gifts, rather than turn from them.”
Jor-El had blushed and hung his head, but his nostrils had flared and his posture remained erect. He was angry. His strange companion seemed to sense this, and clapped his hand to his shoulder in solidarity. Raya twitched, both wishing she had the nerve to be that bold, and scandalized this man would take such liberties.
The priest chimed the tone for the House of El. A crystal altar rose in the center of the room. Lara placed the infant on the altar, where he stirred, but did not cry. Everyone gathered around him, forming the ritual shield with the priest at the apex furthest from the child, the witnesses taking places even with the child, but parallel to the priest, with the parents slightly closer to the child, but further from the priest. As Lara's invited witness, Raya's attention turned to her. One sleek, dark curl escaped onto her brow from her carefully covered head, Lara compelled her attention, as a preternatural calm surrounded her.
It had been so long since she had witnessed that equilibrium. Motherhood had changed her old friend. Raya missed Lara's tenacious drive, her capacity for the unexpected and inspired. In the several months since the child's birth, Lara had withdrawn from public life. Raya dearly missed her friendship and resented the infant who had taken its comfort from her.
Raya recognized that perhaps her unrest did not entirely stem from the baby's demands on her friend. The crippling terror her home had been subjected to didn't help her security. It did, however, give her purpose and working on the Phantom Zone with Jor-El filled her with a certain contentment. At least, there was retribution. The child offered no justice.
Still, she could not refuse the honor of bearing witness to the infant's appellation rite. The priest reminded them all of Krypton's sparse population. Of the rare gift a child represented. Of the sacred trust bestowed upon those fortunate enough to be granted an offspring. She watched as Jor-El's eyes locked with Lara's and Raya felt suddenly an intruder. She looked to the invited intruder, Jor-El's chosen witness. He observed the ritual with a graceful strength. Did he understand the confidence they were being presented? To vigilantly stand guard, to not interfere unless absolutely necessary. To witness the unfolding Destiny of an entire life. A sacred bond. The alien's eyes glowed red.
Raya looked to the boy. He was brightly aware, his round eyes intent and accepting. The priest held forth a glowing crystal, invoking Rao's avatar. “Grant your gift a name. Give his Destiny form.” The response was immediate. The altar was enveloped in an ethereal light, bathing the baby's body and raising him above the altar. A voice spoke from amongst and beyond them. “KAL-EL”. Star-Child.
Written for coldfiredragon's Summer of Cliches Fic-a-thon
prompt: "YES, that IS our kid."
Well it's obviously not summer anymore. :/ But, here's the beginning anyway...
Fandom DC Comics (Batfamily)
Title 100% Sure
Pairings/Characters Alfred Pennyworth PoV, Dick Grayson/Cheyenne Freemont/Jason Todd
Oprah was pre-empted. The talk show was his indulgence. One hour of diversion while he attended to his duties in the staff kitchen. He admired the woman’s sharp wit, business skills, and especially her ability to meet amiably with most anyone and coax the sordid poignant details from their lives. It was a needed respite from the formidable emotional walls he encountered daily with his boys. Of course, his young charges were not present. Master Bruce was in Bialya on business (both Wayne Tech and Justice League); Master Timothy had not yet returned from high school; while Masters Richard and Jason had long since departed residence in Alfred’s abode. Alfred blew out a dignified sigh.
There was no way to avoid their absence (or Oprah’s), so he flicked the channel to a more philistine talk show host. The lady (Alfred used the term loosely) was promising assistance to a distraught woman seeking to determine her child‘s paternity.
"Tonight we have a very special episode. The famous fashion designer, Cheyenne Fremont is here today with a strirring dilemma. Cheyenne is well known not only for her innovative and striking designs, but also for a certain free spirited love life. Today that exuberance has had terrible consequences; she does not know who the father is of her lovely toddler son."
At that a video screen was shown of a bright blue-eyed, black-haired slender toddler. He was doing somersaults on a little mat and grinning from ear to ear. "Oh dear," mouthed Alfred at the frightening recognition. As the video played a voice-over was heard, "I found out I was pregnant at a wild time in my life. I was enjoying my success and accepting the power offered me as a woman. I was shocked when my birth control failed, but I just couldn't end this little life. I am so happy I made that choice as he has meant so much to me. My only regret is not knowing who his father is. He deserves to know his heritage. I'm not asking for money - I certainly don't need it - or involvement. Jacob has plenty of positive male role models in his life. I just want him to have the answers he may want later."
"Ladies and gentleman, we are here to help her and her adorable little boy, Jacob. Please join me in welcoming Cheyenne Freemont."
A chorus of applause, boos, and laughter accompanied Cheyenne as she took the stage. Her video hadn't completely endeared her to the audience and Alfred was struck by the general attitude of derision. The ginger-haired woman was tall, curvaceous, and beautiful, though her fatigue was clear to Alfred despite the mass of cosmetics covering her face.
Written for dcmarvelthon
prompt: sister_wolf's "Don't even try to tell me that you can't dance, Captain."
A wee snippet out of the middle section...
Fandom Marvel Comics/DC Comics
Title untitled
Pairings/Characters Captain America (Steve Rogers)/Lady Blackhawk (Zinda Blake)
He wasn't sure why he went to the Clover Club that night. Something to do with the comforts of home - something to do maybe with looking for a bit of comfort from his youth in New York. All he knew was that now that he was here, he really didn't want to be.
Usually when Bucky was given a special assignment, Cap was given one too. It kept them both busy and happy. Today however, Bucky was gone and Cap was on leave - orders from Brass about mental health and the nation's morale. It was times like this - when all Cap could do was THINK - that he missed him most.
Having Peggy near helped, but there were things that try as she might, she just couldn't understand. He welcomed her embraces, her laughter, and her comforts...
He saw the jacket before he registered anything else. Black hawk inside a yellow circle on a field of black. She had blonde hair to the middle of her back and long legs which she was kicking to the beat as she drank her beer.
She spotted him next, smiled and offered him that wink she'd offered years ago from the cockpit of her plane. Could it really be he was about to get the answers he'd wanted all along...
He weaved through the undulating bodies, deftly avoiding their touch. She was waiting for him and tipped her cap to him when he arrived. "Hey there, Captain." She recognized him even in civilian attire. He held out his hand, "You know who I am; I'm afraid I can't return the courtesy, Miss..."
"Blake. Zinda Blake. Drink?"
Drink? She was offering him a drink. He had forgotten his manners. "I'm sorry Miss Blake. What would you care to have?"
"Oh, I'm a simple girl. I like simple pleasures." She held up her near empty beer with a sly grin.
He nodded, caught the bartenders attention, and gestured for two more.
"I never thought I'd see you again. There've been times I thought I believed you a guardian angel," he smiled.
"Oh, no. I'm real as rain all right, Cap. Flesh and blood same as you. Not sure how we never caught up with each other 'fore today. The Blackhawks've had our hands full against the Axis. You know what I'm saying..." she trailed off, letting the words hang in the air.
"I'm afraid I haven't heard of your regiment," he bemusedly admitted.
"Not heard of the Blackhawks! Well, golly gee! I know we ain't officially sanctioned by no government, but we're for certain the best flying regiment the Allies' got. You sure you ain't heard of us? You didn't see my poster?" The last was said with a bit of ironic hope.
"Your poster?" Steve was sure he'd remember her poster if he'd seen it.
The awkward moment was saved by the band. "Hey all you swingcats, it's time to stomp your feet! Swing Swisson is here to save the day with swingin' beats!" With that he and his quartet launched into [1940's song].
"Don't tell me you can't dance, Captain." She had slid off the barstool and was extending her arm to Steve.
Caught off his guard, he blushed. "Just a little, ma'am. I'm afraid I don't embellish the steps much."
She grinned. "Let's get out there!" Zinda grabbed his arm and led him onto the crowded dance floor. They stepped into the basic steps of East Coast Swing.
Steve enjoyed the rocking movement, away from her and back close in again. She smelled nice. Like jasmine flowers. Exotic. He wondered where she'd gotten the scent.
He enjoyed the energy of the dance, upbeat to match the tempo of the song. It soothed away his aches, both physical and emotional.
She was beautiful as she danced. Seemingly entirely consumed by rhythm. Her face was peaceful yet lively - a joy in living in her eyes. The big stuff had toughened her up so much, she knew how to savor the small stuff. It reminded him of Bucky.
Feedback, concrit and enthusiasm are precious, loved and adored!