anythingbutgrey (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
anythingbutgrey) wrote2013-07-21 12:15 pm
anythingbutgrey) wrote2013-07-21 12:15 pm
Entry tags:
war stories ficathon
War Stories: A Comment Ficathon
Welcome to the war stories ficathon. Some quick guidelines:
What can I prompt and how do I do so?
Basically whatever you want, as long as there's a core component of a war story therein. Can be pre-, post-, or intra-war as long as it is, at its core, about the war. I'm pretty general with my concept of fictional conflicts, so if you've got a battle or a zombie apocalypse or a revolution, you're good to go. That means you can take a fandom that has a canonical war (like, say, Harry Potter) or you can take a fandom that doesn't have a war (like, say, New Girl) and plop them into a Hunger Games war AU or a zombie apocalypse. Have fun with it. I'm grim about my war stories but you don't have to be.
Prompts should contain the following format:
Fandom (not optional, can be multi-fandom or crossover) - Characters/Ship (optional) - Timeline (optional) - Prompt (which may be a plot, song lyric, quote, etc., but is not optional)
In other words, you can leave a character and/or a ship, and/or a timeline, which are optional, and a prompt, which is not. If you want, you can just leave a set of song lyrics and see what people do with them. If you want, you can just leave a timeline with those lyrics, or a just a character, or all three.
How do I respond?
There are no restrictions in terms of word count, format, tense, point of view, etc. Please title all of your response fics as such in bold at the top of your comment (make sure to close the bold tag!) since LJ took out comment titles because they're dumb:
Title - Character/Ship - Timeline
Presumably, your fics will contain these three things even if they weren't in the prompt. You can also fill prompts that have already been filled. If something speaks to you, as it were, it doesn't matter if there's already fic for it. You can write your own.
How do I promote?
Here's a tumblr post (gen image if you have no idea who Mako Mori is in which case go see Pacific Rim ASAP and thank me later)
Promotion link with image:
Other banners:
More incoming
Text link:
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Tendo is quiet as we both sit and have our respective drinks, and in my mind I thank him for not talking. I guess there's that part of me that's so used to not having to say what I mean to or want to –– or rather, the part of me that just makes the excuse that I don't have to say what I want to say –– and I don't know if it'll ever go away. It seems so glaringly loud now, my inability to communicate, when there is no more immediate need for me to be in a Jaeger again. I take a gulp of my whiskey that bites back at me with that thought because I know that it's not true. My inability to communicate became glaringly obvious before this late evening/early morning.
Max snores and kicks lightly at my foot. I imagine he's dreaming of running and playing, maybe with Chuck.
His name...Chuck... my son's name, makes me pour more of the whiskey in my glass. Tendo watches me do so but doesn't say a thing, just tops off his own. Tendo never piloted a Jaeger, we never drifted together, but he still can silently tell me the support that he has for me right now, by staying up too late and drinking too much and having no words to sit stale between us.
I'm sure others are celebrating still. In fact, I can hear some of it. Others maybe are sleeping, tired from the war, not knowing what to do when they wake up tomorrow. We're not the only mourners tonight, I know that much. And I know that Tendo isn't just here for me, but he's doing his own mourning too. We've all lost friends and parts of our support system, not just today but also throughout the entire war. We've all lost family, lost loved ones.
Mako, I'm sure, is mourning the late Marshall in a silent lonely way. My mourning is silent less because of respect and more because of I don't know the words to say anymore. I don't know if I ever did.
I went into war fully believing in the possibility that I wouldn't see the end of it. The rate of living when you're a co–pilot is small. But fight after fight, I was still here. I've seen the world, a dream of mine when I was younger (when I was the age that my son is, was, was––), although I didn't figure in the idea of seeing it being destroyed by aliens as I battled them. When my son joined as my co–pilot I tried to tell myself to figure in the reality of his mortality but never was able to fully grasp that, I can see that now.
I could have lost him any day during the war, but I lost him in the final hour.
He'll be regarded as a hero, even more so than he already became in life. Society loves to alleviate a sacrificed hero, that I know from this war alone. I can see his picture, right there amongst the Marshall's, the Kaidonovsky's, the Wei's. My arm the only reason my picture isn't right next to his, where it belongs.
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The drift, I always told myself, aired out all the things we never talked about. I never had to tell him how important he was to me because he saw it and felt it, surely. I never had to tell him how proud I was, or how happy me and his mother were when he came to us. I never expressed my guilt for having basically raised him to this fate, how he never had the chance to escape the feeling of duty to pilot a Jaeger. I always just let myself go on with the fact that he was in my mind, he heard and felt it all, he knew. But there's nothing like knowing it's the last time you're going to see someone and feel everything that has been left unsaid.
In the end, I couldn't even tell my son I loved him. I felt my tears and I could tell Stacker that he was my son, but addressing him, addressing Chuck.... I couldn't. In the end, we still opt out for showing our love and affection for our dog because Max was our middle man. I love the damn dog of course, but I love my son too. He never heard it enough.
Some drifts I tried to be selfish, and instead of staying focused, I'd let my mind, just for a second, chase after RABITs. Let him see more of when he was born, let him see and feel the joy and love. I'd reel back in quick enough that the alarms wouldn't go off, and Stacker never reprimanded me for it. Perhaps he understood, the feeling to try and convey to a child what they mean and feeling like you couldn't. I could see in his eyes that he knew I did it on purpose, that I've been at this damned thing too long to get lost in the drift. Chuck never said a thing, but I know that he felt it, that it shook him a bit that I wouldn't let him just skip over the pieces and cast it as "all the things I know about you" and made him lose himself in it with me, if just for a moment. Lose himself in how proud of him I was and how I loved him.
My whiskey is gone again and the lights flicker. Tendo stands and puts his hand on my shoulder. "Marshall," he addresses me with my new title. I wonder if I'll ever have enough time to grieve for the people the need to be grieve.
I stand up and bring the kid in for a quick hug because I don't have anymore chances of hugging my son. I think he understands, and he embraces back. Good kid. When we let go I nod, because there we are, I still can't say what I should say. But at least with Tendo and the others I have time to figure it out.
"Let's go to bed Max," I say as the dog slowly wakes up and stretches. He trots after me as we go to our room and it feels odd to hear my footsteps, hear his, but not my son's right next to us. I try to think of the drift and send him, wherever he is, a goodnight as well. Because of him, I will wake up tomorrow to a new day, and the rebuild will begin.
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(Anonymous) 2013-07-26 01:45 am (UTC)(link)