lyrithim: (Default)
Title: The Price of Anarchy (Part 2/3)
Fandom: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power
Pairing: Catra/Adora
Chapter Word Count: 4,815
[AO3 Link] [Previous Chapter]

Summary: Adora tries to change Catra; Catra tries to change the Horde. Both fail; both succeed. (The Catra-starts-a-quiet-revolution-inside-the-Horde story.)
Chapter Summary: Showdown at the Dryl castle.

*
Hordak kept most of his enemies—the ones he did not execute—in the Lightning Tower, erected decades ago at the edge of the Fright Zone. It was easily the tallest manmade structure one could see for miles around and looked, to Catra and Adora when they were young, like a block of cheese tacked onto a sky-scraping needle. A giant, multi-headed snake rumored to be Hordak’s childhood pet guarded the base of the Tower, while the block at the top held the Tower’s prisoners.

A sentence to the Tower normally equated isolation for life, and soldiers stationed near it would often report hearing the screeches of its maddened prisoners when the winds hit the surrounding deserts especially hard. But when Catra had asked for access to the Tower as his second-in-command, Hordak had agreed easily. Perhaps it amused him.

It was two weeks before Scorpia was due to return to the Fright Zone, triumphant, flushed with new towns and new people pledging loyalty to the Horde—through their loyalty to her and Scorpion Hall. It was then that Catra paid the Lightning Tower another visit.

“Shadoweaver,” Catra said now, lazy, from the other side of the cell door. “How have you been doing?”

Read more... )
lyrithim: (Default)
Title: The Price of Anarchy
Fandom: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power
Pairing: Catra/Adora
Chapter Word Count: 4,827 (of ~12,000)
Note: My attempt at a “Adora followed Brightmoon way too easily” story.
[AO3 Link]

Summary: Adora tries to change Catra; Catra tries to change the Horde. Both fail; both succeed. (The Catra-starts-a-quiet-revolution-inside-the-Horde story.)

*

Nimbus, of the skies, known to outsiders as a sovereign kingdom, was more accurately a collection of five hundred rogue airships and its people, sailing as a fleet over the upper atmosphere jet streams under the protection of the Rippling Malachite. Despite many subtle and unsubtle attempts by the Horde to launch an attack, the Kingdom of Nimbus had withstood invasion for months, the Horde lacking airships that could fly as high or as fast as those blessed by the runestone of flight. Eventually it was agreed that the Horde would send two representatives to Nimbus for the first round of fuel negotiations: Scorpia, of course, being the Horde’s nominal princess; and Catra.

Read more... )
lyrithim: (Default)
Title: Liminal

Fandom:
 Check Please!
Pairing: Nursey/Dex (but mostly Nursey & Dex)
Word Count: 1,627

Summary: Will looked like a wet dog almost, with his head hanging, his neck bent slightly from a teenager’s slouch he never really outgrew. (Takes place after Chapter 4.08: “Haus 2.0.” Dex apologizes.)

[Also read on AO3]

Note: I'm having some trouble with the "cut" function so this is left whole for now. Apologies!
EDIT 12/8/2018: Got it.

 



Two days—two days of blissful silence, with no five a.m. alarms and no Nursey-pick-up-your-shit-that-I-can’t-even-find and no Nursey-please-stop-humming-Drake-in-your-sleep (like he could even control that)—it was two days of Derek Nurse having his own room in the Haus, rightfully his, Bitty’s Solomon’s-dib-flip be damned. And Derek had been living the hell out of the place in those two days: stretching his legs across the room, playing his music on full blast, getting his rhythm back in general—maybe writing a couple pieces of angry poetry, you know, as a change of style. Two days of peace.
 
Then at midnight of the third day Derek heard the hallway floorboards creak and knew the way you just did sometimes: what was coming, and who.
 
Two soft knocks—at the second, the door opened gently inward, letting in a slice of the hallway light. Will was on the other side. He looked like a wet dog almost, with his head hanging, his neck bent slightly from a teenager’s slouch he had not outgrown in three years. It was more pronounced now, made him look all the more gangly and awkward for it.
 
“Nurse?” he asked. “You awake?”
 
“Yes,” Derek said.
 
“Are you sleeping soon?”
 
“Why? Did you want something?”
 
“Just want to talk. It’d be quick.”
 
Derek sat up, draped a blanket over his bare shoulders because it was cold, and fuck Will for never letting the temperature go up above fifty-eight. Rubbing his eyes, he said, “Turn the light on. And stop standing at the doorway like a serial killer please.”
 

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