#its like eternal wip punishment

[quinnonimp]

pulled for dulcinea rodya didnt get her and got mad so im drawing her

[indigosunsetao3]

NSFW | 18+ | Religious theming/tones/symbolism, brief mention of blood, church sex

Female reader perspective.

The symbolism in this story is going off the assumption Johnny was/is Catholic.

I haven't been in any sort of religious space since I was about five despite being raised in two households with three different religions. It’s safe to assume things aren’t exactly right/accurate in this story. I researched what I thought I needed and expanded on things I already happened to know.

I should be working on the million other WIPs I have but this feral thing literally woke me up last night.

Soap hadn't been to church properly in years. His mam would be ashamed to know he didn't bother to pass the threshold when he walked past one, even on their holiest of days. That he didn't cross himself with prayer, that he only made the gesture sarcastically to get a laugh out of his friends. And the rosary he received as a lad was long lost in his many moves, he never fussed about getting another.

The issue was, with everything Soap had seen in his years in the military he had a hard time believing in a God. Had a hard time thinking that there was some benevolent being out there pulling all the strings and letting these things happen. He also figured that when his time came, if there was a heaven, his hands were so stained with blood he wasn't getting into their pearly gates. So why bother confessing his sins, why bother with the self punishment and judgements when in the end none of it mattered anyway.

So when you drag him into a derelict shell of a church with only one thing in mind he doesn't balk at the sight of dusty pews. Doesn't flinch at the idea of desecrating holy ground. And doesn't pause in the removal of his vest as he follows you up the aisle with a grin on his face as his heavy footfalls echo around the cavernous ceiling. Discarded and forgotten bibles remain in their seatbacks, and old hymn sheets flutter about in the wind from your passing bodies.

The stained glass windows at the back of the sanctuary were smashed in places long ago. Pieces of glittering colored glass litter the floor and crunch under your shoes as you both reach the lectern. Vines are growing through the holes in the windows and the tapestries are so badly water damaged it's hard to even tell what they were anymore.

The large cross that hung from the ceiling before is half broken and leaning against the wall. You peer at where the occupant of that symbol used to be but is no longer as if someone had tried to save something of this place. Or violate it more by removing its idol.

Soap's hands find your hips from behind as your fingers grip at the lectern. He doesn't care to look around, he's washed his hands of all of this so long ago it's just another building; another victim of war. So as you take in your surroundings with curiosity Soap untucks your shirt to slide his hands slowly up your ribs as his lips find your neck. The soft sigh you give him at his ministrations is all he needs to push him along.

His hands make quick work of your shirt and bra, raising your arms above your head before he guides your hands back to hold onto the lectern again. How many times in his youth did he watch and listen to sermons from a place just like this? Listening to tales of damnation or salvation, depending on the story and the time. He's fairly certain that this would be a tale of eternal hell if the priests could see him now, if they could hear the thoughts he's having as he smooths his palms down your back. You arch to the touch and let out a small sigh of his cold hands on your hot skin.

He steps away from you for a second, shucking off his own shirt and depositing it with yours on the faded red carpet. He doesn't return to you right away though, just looks at the dark silhouette of your body as you stare up at the high ceilings, waiting on him. It would have been a pious pose in any other situation but God had left this place long ago.

Soap captures you in his grip again, his bare chest pressed against your back. You can feel the chain and ID tags digging between your shoulder blades as he presses his hands against your breasts, cupping them for a second before squeezing. He can feel you push back against him, using the leverage of the lectern to keep your balance.

Your fingers snare in the tattered silk that still adorns the worn wood of the furniture before you. Soap has you effectively pinned between him and it and you ball the delicate material in your fingers as he bites your pulse. You lean back into him, resting your head on his shoulder as you stare down at his hands groping you. He teases and taunts the soft flesh, toying with your hardened nipples for only a moment before he slips his hands down toward your pants fingers first.

He's taking his time with your button and zipper. Savoring the way you push up against him and whine in your throat as his fingers just barely break the waistband. When you move your hands to help him he grabs the back of them gently and puts them once again on the lectern, curling your fingers for you to hold it tightly.

Satisfied that you know what to do he glides his hands back up your arms, over your shoulders then back down your back. His ministrations are slow, watching how the goosebumps follow his touches before he finds your pants again. Running his hands over your behind and down your thighs as far as he can go before he kisses the back of your neck.

You hear him adjust then, feel him shift, and dare a glance over your shoulder. You see him behind you knelt on the ground, knees slightly splayed and hands rested on his powerful thighs as he watches you. The perfect position of the submissive solider, the disciplined disciple, looking up at his deity before him.

Soap leans forward and ever so gently grabs one of your legs to slip your boot off, pulling each lace loose unhurriedly before tossing it away into the dark. He takes care of the other one in the same manner before finally pushing up on his knees fully to hook his fingers into the waist of your pants and pulls them down along with your underwear. He can see you shiver as he tugs and pulls, taking his time as he works the material down.

The church is silent around you save for the whisper of cloth as he undresses you, the creaking of the wood as you shift your weight left then right to get the pants off, and then the soft sigh you let out as he kisses your lower back. It's not lost on you that he has you at the front of the church, that you're positioned where any and all eyes could see you if they happened to walk in. That you were the center of this place of devotion.

He grabs your hips then, gently tugging them back so you are forced to shift your feet back some and bend forward. He doesn't stop until you are pushed up on your tiptoes and are bent so far forward that your head hangs between your arms still holding the pulpit as he had quietly instructed you to do. He wants you to watch as he worships you and as his hands grab your ass to spread you, you bite your lip in anticipation.

You are on full display for Soap in this position and he uses his thumbs to open you even more, to see how badly you need him. He doesn't dare let his thumbs brush you where you want it most, wanting his tongue to be the first thing that touches you tonight. He flexes his hands, squeezing the heated flesh, before leaning forward and licking a long stripe up your center. He fights back his own groan at the filthy moan you let out. The sound echoes around the room, breaking the hushed silence that suffocates the place.

He doesn't stop. He holds you tight in place as he feasts upon you, not letting you squirm away as he works you over. He's urging you on, humming against your folds as you whine and clench your jaw in pleasure. He knows you're holding back, doing your best to fight the sounds coming from you because you don't want to draw attention. You don't want your moans and pleads to bounce around the room that was built with those acoustics on purpose. But Soap wants it. He wants you to cry out for God. For him.

Your body is trembling from the exertion of this position, from the onslaught of Soap's tongue and his fingers as they literally slip into you. You aren't even sure if it's two or three at this point as he coaxes you on, his teeth biting down on the sensitive flesh of your thigh as he pumps into you. You can feel the arousal sliding down your legs mixed with his spit and when he begins a harsh pace with his fingers that you are sure is going to knock you off your feet you finally cry out unrestrainedly.

The pleasure races from your stomach and down your legs as you finally let go and climax. The tattered silk on the podium can't fight your grip and it tears into two jagged pieces, the sound drowned out by your pants and moans. He doesn't stop though, he forces you to ride it out and fight the twitching of the overstimulation. Doesn't let you breathe as he reaches up to rest his forearm on your lower back making you arch that much more to him. It's almost painful how he has you held but that feeling goes away as you feel him lap away the mess you had just made with his tongue.

Soap leans back after a few soft kisses against your sensitive center, doing his best to not smirk at how swollen and ready it was for him. His fingers massage the back of your legs as you groan and push up, letting the purple obliterated silk fall to the floor. Turning around to face him you push your hair back off your forehead where pieces had stuck to the sweat there and smile at him as he gazes up at you reverently.

His chest is heaving as he watches you, breath catching as you kneel down to him and reach for his pants and yank them. You aren't as soft and patient with him as he was undressing you. Your hands shake as you get the belt and button loose. Not from fear but from anticipation. You can feel how painfully hard he is as he shifts to get the clothes off and he nearly growls as your hand wraps around him to give him a few precursory pumps. He doesn't need it, he's already leaking for you but you taunt him anyway, running your thumb over the tip.

He bucks up into your hand as you kiss him, your teeth and lips clashing harshly. You can taste yourself on him as he sweeps his tongue in and you sigh in satisfaction as his hands come up to cup your face. Greedily you climb into his lap as if he hadn't just worshiped you to oblivion a few moments before. You need more, you need him in you, to consume him.

Soap obliges you, wrapping his arms around you and shifting to sit on the few steps that lead up to the podium. Where parishioners would kneel to pray up to the cross, to their leader. He plants his feet on the ground and leans back on his elbows to watch you as you push back from the kiss. He stares as you rise up over him with one hand braced on his chest as the other holds him to guide him to you.

Once he's aligned at your entrance you snap your eyes up to his and watch his face in the faint street light coming in from the windows behind you as you sit down on him. It's an easy motion, your body already so slick and ready for him and you can feel him twitch at the sudden warmth around him. He groans, his hands slipping a bit on the carpeted steps before hissing and drawing them back.

Turning his right hand up Soap sees that his hand has run right over a hidden piece of stained glass in the carpet. The thin line of blood that wells up on his palm is instantaneous. He supposes this is penance, for his lack of faith, and lack of respect, for this place. Or perhaps his payment for you, payment in blood to show his devotion to the only thing he would ever get on his knees for again.

You hesitate at the painful hiss but Soap grabs your hip with his other hand and moves you over him. The temporary pain forgotten as you begin to ride on him, the movements slow as you slide all the way up him before back down. Your hand on his chest balls into a fist to hold his ID tags there, curling your fingers tight around the chain and tugging a bit to keep him locked on you.

He doesn't need the bite of the chain in the back of his neck to keep his eyes on you though. The streetlights behind you sets your face in shadow, the light glowing around your body as you ride him; use him. He groans as you move faster, your other hand grabbing his bloody one and lacing your fingers together. You hold his hand tight as you bend down over him and kiss him, rolling your hips in a harsh snap down on him.

Soap begins to meet your moves thrust for thrust, the sound of your slick body's slapping against one another filling up the chamber. It's rhythmic, a music in its own making that's more powerful than any other hymn that had been sung there before. As the song reaches its peak Soap finds his climax, yelling out as you push him hard into the floor and fuck him as if it were the end of days.

You're chasing your own release as you grind down on him, not giving him a chance to recover just like he had done to you. He's huffing and you can see the pleasurable anguish on his face as you finally reach that apex. Your cries lilt and your movements become more frantic as you feel yourself come apart and you sit up on him, grabbing his waist for support as you bounce on him.

In that moment, as Soap watches your face and feels you clamp around him, he becomes a believer again. Not in God, he had abandoned him long ago. In you. You were his center, his home, his goddamn reason for being, for breathing. You knew how to tear him apart and put him back together again and he was going to worship you until you brought him into heaven or dragged him down to hell.

[whumpsday]

Whumpmas in July #25

Share a sneak peek of something you're working on

all my WIJ stuff is being completed like the day before since i fell super off-schedule, so here's some other WIPs that are less "on the burner"!

there's a bunch of em, so i'll put them under a read more. this will primarily consist of Kane & Jim and BG3 fanfic things. at the very bottom is something with major Kane & Jim spoilers, but i'll give ample warning.

excerpt from a segment of a Kane & Jim AU RP i intend to edit into its own little thing. still have to put it in past tense and polish it up lol

But he has another problem: how is he to possibly stop this from happening again? He can't stay awake forever. Jack's things he can protect by sleeping in the middle of the floor with nothing, but he can't stop himself from screaming. Can't he? Kane eyes the little scissors that came with the sewing kit, then takes them into the bathroom. This is worth it to not lose access to food, he tells himself. And if nothing else, it will prove to Jack he's serious about trying to be good. He'll do anything to please his rescuer. Using the mirror as reference, he makes an incision into his throat. With all he's been through, he knows where to aim by now. He snips into his vocal chords until the whimpering stops, making sure not to interfere with his ability to breathe. Blood and tears mix in the sink, mostly blood. He presses his hand over his throat until the bleeding stops. It's quicker than usual: faster healing due to the blood, he supposes. It looks nasty, but he can't make noise now, at least until it heals.

this excerpt is from a Kane & Jim-related oneshot. by "related", i mean it takes place tens of thousands of years before K&J's story, when the first vampires were created.

Alukah sliced the man's throat with her sickle, watching the fear die in his eyes as the life left him. The life that would soon belong to her, for an eternity to come. She held him just so, letting his blood drain into the earth where she had prepared the spell, before tossing him in a pile with the rest to be buried later. The farmers said they could be used to nourish crops, an extra bounty on top of their main purpose. The tedium it would require would no longer be a concern, at least: they'd all have nothing but time if this went as planned. The message-girl bounded up to her, undisturbed by the mountain of dead.

this is another Kane & Jim AU, actually a fanfic (not sure if that's the right term to use) of a K&J x MMSS crossover i have with @not-a-space-alien. in the RP we did, Lex was Kane's victim and the hunters handed him over to her instead of Jim. i'm writing an AU of that where things go pretty badly and he gets sent back. i've been working on this for like a year and it's almost done, but i get nervous writing other people's ocs lol i'm always worried i'll write them ooc...

Kane hissed, loud like a feral cat, a sound he hasn’t made since his early days with the hunters. Eyes wild with fear, he tried to exude STAY AWAY FROM ME with every fiber of his being. “Did you just hiss at me?” Ari asked, incredulous. It only made her stop for a moment before she reached for his hair, to drag him away, to drag him out into the sun- Kane had no options left. It was eternal torture, or anything at all he could put between it and himself. It dawned on him that he had absolutely nothing to lose. There was no worse fate he could be punished with. And he’d said he would do anything to avoid it, hadn’t he? He lunged forward, swiping at her neck with bound hands. Ari was quick, but she wasn’t quick enough. Kane missed her throat, but as she turned her head away, his nails clawed at the side of her neck, delicious blood spewing from it. If Kane had been thinking clearly, he would have taken the opportunity to find something to end his life with. But he wasn’t thinking clearly: the only thing occupying his mind was the enticing scent of blood. Ari shouted something, but he wasn’t listening, focused solely on trying to get at the food he needed more than anything. A hard kick to the chest sent him flying back into the wall, further splintering already-broken ribs from yesterday’s beating. He tried to get up again, but promptly collapsed: he had no energy left in his burnt, beaten, starved body for another attack. He’d barely had enough for one. He wheezed, trying to catch his breath around fractured bone.

extremely tiny bit from a Catharsis chapter i have planned, during Luan's captivity

Cyrus’s shoe pressed against the back of Luan’s head, grinding his face into the floor. “This is where you fucking belong. You and every other nobody who thinks they’re hot shit.”

this excerpt is for chapter 2 of Lost at Sea, a miniseries i started a long time ago and never finished.

It had been several days since the monster had taken Digory to her cave, and by some miracle, he was still alive. He was alone much of the time. Each day, she brought him fish- more than he could eat in a day- and a large shell filled with freshwater. Blessedly, he was out of the sun. His skin, though still angry and red, was beginning to heal a bit from more than a week of nonstop exposure. It was miles better than the boat. Digory had been sure he would die there. Of course, he was still in dire straits. His mangled legs weren’t getting better anytime soon, though by this point he’d gotten somewhat used to the throbbing pain of them. He was pretty sure that his feet turning purple was a bad sign, but at least he couldn’t feel them. That was probably worse. And of course, he wasn’t always alone. The mermaid was terrifyingly enormous. She liked to stare at him with unblinking eyes almost as big as he was, her claws as sharp and menacing as her teeth. She could kill him with no effort at all, if she wanted to. She probably would. Digory pretty much figured that was why he was being kept. After starving on that wrecked ship so long, there was little meat on his bones. Every bite of fish he took to sate his hunger was bringing him closer to his own death.

here's an excerpt from chapter 2 of my BG3 fanfic Astarion and the Cleric (remember that?) that if i'm being honest i probably won't ever finish

That gave Astarion pause. “A vow of celibacy.” “It means I don’t–” “Yes, I know what it is, darling.” Astarion’s hand retreated as he attempted to think quickly of a way to salvage the situation. Had a mark said that, he would have normally given up and gone for someone easier. But Gentle was not a mark. Gentle was a reliable source of food, and by some twist of fate the gods surely found hilarious, currently his best means of protection from Cazador. He was an irreplaceable resource, and things were too shaky as they currently stood what with their… moral differences. He had to make sure– “I’d still love to spend the night together.” Gentle spoke in a manner evoking his namesake, stepping ever-closer. “It would simply be less… lustful. Though I understand if you’d prefer to seek elsewhere for your night of passion instead. I overheard Lae’zel expressing similar wishes?” “Ha.” The githyanki was perhaps the one least likely in all the camp to allow him to indulge in her blood. This could work, however. “What exactly do you have in mind?” Gentle’s smile turned playful, his turn to be coy. “You’ll have to wait and see.” “Cheeky. Wait and see I will, then,” he settled on. As Gentle skipped off to enjoy the party, Astarion tried his best to push down the part of him that ended up relieved.

despite only ever posting 1 chapter of Astarion and the Cleric and not even getting to the whumpy part, i went off the rails and started writing an AU of it in which Gentle, the titular cleric, is also turned into a vampire spawn by Cazador.

here's an excerpt of Gentle sealed in a tomb long-term as punishment, something i do intend to post probably next month for augusnippets after i put it in past tense:

Gentle prays. He is unsure by what interval he prays, unable to track the passage of time, sealed in the tomb as he is. He prays whenever it feels right. Sometimes he prays for hours on end without ceasing, sometimes he goes what might be days without, like a child throwing a tantrum. But never longer than that. More often, he prays what might be once every hour or so while he lays awake. For there is nothing for him to do here but pray, and there is no one else to listen but Ilmater.

something else from the same Astarion and the Cleric AU, Gentle helping Astarion get acclimated after he's first turned (i had Gentle be the older spawn)

Gentle’s heart sank when he saw that Master had brought a new spawn along with him into the dormitory. He’d hoped he would be the last. He and Violet already took home plenty of innocents– as much as it tormented him, he could not disobey. But a new spawn? It was a fate worse than his unfortunate victims would get. A fate worse than death. The dormitory did have six beds, in addition to Violet’s seventh in the favoured spawn room. Gentle didn’t like to dwell on the implications. The new spawn looked to be an elf. Master seemed to have a preference for them, himself being the only non-elven member of the ‘family’. An obvious newborn, he was covered in fresh dirt and clearly trying very hard to keep himself from shaking with terror. Gentle could just barely make out wounds beneath the later of filth.

this next except is from an entirely separate BG3 fanfic called Answered Prayer. the premise is that Bhaal hears Astarion's desperate prayers during his phase of "trying" every god in hopes someone will help him. Bhaal sends The Dark Urge (my durge oc Perran) to slaughter Cazador and everyone else there. Perran then takes Astarion for himself and becomes his carewhumper.

Bhaal. Oh, how he’d prayed to the Lord of Murder. To have a sliver of opportunity, a stake steady in his hands. Or for some brave hero to come do the deed themself, vanquishing Cazador for him. For Astarion was a well-suited devotee, was he not? Had he not ended enough lives himself to earn his salvation? As he was made to fight the cultists at Cazador’s word, his master’s will overriding his own, he supposed the answer was yes, not that he’d live long enough to see it. He was weak with hunger, and the hooded figure he’d been ordered to distract overpowered him easily, pinning him to the palace floor despite his struggles. “Not that one,” their leader barked, jabbing a confident finger toward Astarion before running a dagger through Aurelia’s throat. His ‘sister’ gurgled, the terror fading from her eyes as she lost her life for the second time, joining the rest of his downed siblings. The Bhaalist sighed with the same satisfaction one might feel after a full meal, turning his attention toward Cazador. Despite his own dire straits, Astarion paused his efforts at wriggling away to watch. If it were possible, Cazador’s death would make a fine appetizer to his own– or whatever the Bhaalist had planned for him. He’d never thought he would see Cazador overpowered, but the Bhaalist was a force to be reckoned with. Deliciously, he had a front-row view to the slaughter. The Bhaalist made quick work of incapacitating him and slow work of killing him, dragging screams from his throat just as Cazador had done so many times to him. If only the victory were not tainted by knowing he was next. Just like that, Cazador laid dead and bloody on the ground. Astarion could feel it as soon as the gory mess the Bhaalist had made of him transformed from an undead swath of agony to a truly-dead mangled corpse: the thread tying him to his master snapped. He was free, all too late.

the following contains major spoilers for Kane & Jim canon. it's a bit for a future present arc scene i had to write early because it wouldn't leave my head.

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Stab the little bitch and make it hurt. The thought pushed its way into Jim’s mind, much louder than his own quiet, dulled thoughts. So much more important. Anton was telling him to stab Kane. Jim walked over to the cupboard drawers and took out one of the silver forks. That should work. Just as Kane got the upper hand and tackled Anton to the floor, Jim plunged the fork into his back. His task completed, he stood idly by as Kane shrieked in pain, the sound and smell of burning flesh permeating the room. Something nagged at the back of his mind- like something was wrong? No, nothing was wrong. How could anything be wrong when he felt this peaceful?

that's all i've got! literally almost every WIP i have in my folders.

@whumpmasinjuly

[lavender-inkwell-99]

Testing (WIP)

A ChelDOS fic

Harsh fluorescent lights flicker on inside Chell’s “room.” Though room was a bit of a misnomer. Really, it was a glorified cage with barely enough room for a bed and a toilet. The walls were made of a soft padding. Even the bed was nothing more than a jut out of this padding from the wall. The toilet similarly was padded and looked more like a jumbo sized roll of paper towels than the typical porcelain throne. 

“Wakey, wakey. Do you know what today is? It’s our five year anniversary. Can you believe it?” inquired GLaDOS over the loudspeaker, her gentle, synthetic voice emanating from the walls of the room itself. Chell groans as she sits up and stretches, ignoring her jailer. “Five years ago today you came to my door, desperate, parentless, fat. Yet I still took you in with open arms. I gave you what you always craved - purpose. To test for eternity for me.”

Chell stands and stretches some more. She has learned to take advantage of her tormentor’s morning monologue as a good time to warm up her muscles for the hours of testing ahead. “I have some surprises in store for you. To commemorate our time together. And don’t worry, cake isn’t one of them. Someone needs to watch their weight, after all.” A panel in the wall recesses and slides away to reveal an opening. Beyond it, as there has been almost every day for the past five years, was a stand holding a portal gun and something GLaDOS insists is a protein bar. Though to Chell it feels more like modeling clay, and tastes more like minty soap. But the fact that she has not died yet of starvation or malnutrition was at least some proof of its dietary validity.

She scarfs down her breakfast, and picks up the portal gun. The door beyond the stand opens, revealing a pneumatic elevator. Chell steps inside and is propelled to her first test of many for the day. It is a surprisingly simple one compared to the past few weeks. Nothing more than just getting a weighted cube and placing it on the right pressure plate. The next test is similarly easy. As is the next and the next. For hours Chell goes through chamber after chamber of tests fifth graders could do. During all this GLaDOS is unusually quiet. Not even chiming in with the occasional over-worn jab at her lack of parents, or nonexistent weight issue. Chell suspects this is GLaDOS’ idea of punishment for 

After hours of these mind numbingly easy tests, Chell enters a chamber unlike anything she’s seen before. It was a single large room. The walls and floor are covered in the same soft padding as her room. In the center, a venusian figure of wires and polymers hangs from the ceiling. At first Chell mistakes it for GLaDOS’ normal carapace but as she studies it she finds it is quite different. The usual clean silhouette of her body is marked with a series of retracted pneumatic tendrils hugging the sides, along with a pair of articulating arms resting in front like a praying mantis waiting to strike. 

[memento-morri-writes]

high fantasy wip snippet: the collector of souls

this is a little bit from the prologue for High Fantasy WIP! It's our introduction to our Narrator, as well as his mistress, the Lady of Ravens.

“Ah, [Name], you’ve returned. Tell me, what souls do you bring?” Her voice is cold and sharp, like a stiletto made of ice. It pierces my mind, and I speak up quickly. ���My lady, I have brought you the souls of three thousand soldiers, freshly killed in battle.” I open my mouth wide, and the souls rush out of my mouth. I’ve never quite gotten used to the feeling. Their desperation always tickles my throat.  They stream forth in a torrent of energy. The Lady holds out her hand, and they all surge towards it, eager, hopeful. As they gather in her palm, she lifts her hand up to her face, examining the souls carefully. After a moment she makes a swift gesture with her fingers, and the souls vanish, pulled into whatever eternity awaits them. I pause, waiting to see her reaction. She looks down at me, eyes narrowing. “And?” I shift from one foot to the other, squirming under her icy gaze. “My lady, I have the soul of a warmonger. The architect for this conflict. He has killed thousands, and feels no remorse.” I open my mouth again and this time the soul that comes out does so slowly. It drags slowly up my throat, leaving a bitter residue on my tongue. I spit it at the Lady’s feet, almost gagging on the taste. Monsters always taste terrible, especially the human ones.  The Lady reaches down, picking up the foul soul between two thin white fingers, each tipped with long, pointed black nails. The soul squirms in her grip, thrashing back and forth. The most wicked are always the most reluctant to face death. She examines the soul, unperturbed by its increasingly desperate attempts to escape. She frowns, reading something in the soul that I cannot, then smiles. She tosses the soul up in the air, and it swells briefly, surging forwards towards freedom. But then it is pulled back, sucked down towards the Lady’s open mouth. A blink of an eye, and its gone. She closes her eyes, a look of contentment on her face. I shudder against my will. The Lady only eats the most vile souls, those who have done such wrong that they are not allowed an afterlife, not even one of punishment.

High Fantasy WIP Taglist: @andromedaexists

[writing-whump]

Do religions work the same as in our world, and if they do what are your OCs religions?

Aw, thank you for the question!

Religion works mostly the same in the wip world, with a slight change. After shadow wolves were discovered, they were connected with a lot of anti-God, hell, evil and demonic in the haze of fear and hate of people finding out about them.

It's not the case anymore, people being widely accepting of wolves or simply ignoring/not associating if they don't want to, but wolves have taken this entirely into their vocabulary and self-image. They associate with shadows, hell, some call the shadows themselves their demons or souls etc.

For this reason, lots of wolves don't really believe in any religion or the supernatural. They are the supernatural about this world, they are the real godly or anti-Godly power, anti-establishement authority with their superhuman strength as proof.

Now character specific, it's a bit different:

Hector is the classic, no religions are real, they have done more harm than good, show me something real kind of attitude. He is allergic to religions of any kind. It's not beneath him to outright laugh at it or scoff at people openly. Shadow wolves are the closest to anything godly, cool and supernatural, so if you want to worship something, go worship him. Lol

Arnie is a lot more subdued. He doesn't believe in a specific God or religion per se, but he has respect for what good religions have brought to the world, like values, unity, gratefulness, forgiving yourself and others. He can see how it can bring comfort to people and wouldn't mock it.

Isaiah is the kind of non-believer that believes there is something out there. Power of the universe, maybe energies, spirits, wonders, ghosts. Especially fascinated by various folk tales and beliefs, season related deities, fairies, demons, small domestic spirits in Japanese or Chinese style. He thinks werewolf and vampire legends have to be based on something, right, they couldn't have all been wrong, when shadow wolves exist.

Seline believes in a more specific kind of universe energies. When she uses magic, she pictures energy flows in her mind, she imagines she can feel magic in big waves, pit-pat of rain, the clouds in the sky, the vibrant green after rain. So no gods or religions per se, but magical, supernatural, something bigger is out there and its closer to the shadow wolves and witches than most think. She even prays to this energetic unfathomable entity sometimes, cause praying is just sending energy signals into that giant eternal unending cloud of power for the outcomes she wants to achieve. Positive energy for the win.

Now Matthew is one of those that really...don't care. He doesn't have a formulated opinion, but he doesn't think there is proof God exists or doesn't exist. It's a kind of open, maybe he is out there openess, many things can be right, but damn, he doesn't think he would be a good guy. His particual shadow feels for him more like a punishment and not a god given gift.

[scribbledquillz]

WIP Wednesday

The lovely @wild-houseplant tagged me to share a snippet and I am all too happy to oblige. In turn, I'll tag back: @heniareth , @siriskulksnerding , @blarrghe , @shivunin , @greypetrel , @darethshirl , @riguri and anyone else who wants in. Please tag me, I'd love to see what you share!

This bit is a long time coming, and I am so looking forward to finally getting to write these two interacting more. 🥰

“Mmmph. Ah… I suppose death has not found me after all, then. Or if it has, the seat of the Maker is not nearly so splendid as the Chantry claims.” Gingerly Zevran turned his head up against the wagon, heavy lidded eyes blinking into the Warden’s face. He pushed one corner of his mouth into a crooked smirk, making use of the wince that came when his aching jaw protested. “Though if He has sent such a lovely creature to carry out the punishment I’ve earned for my sins, I can imagine far more terrible ways to pass eternity.”  There it was, the same vicious scowl which had greeted him before, pulled across her mouth in time with the dagger she raised to hover inches from the end of his chin. “Your men are dead, or fled the field like rabbits. Won’t be anyone left to come for you.” “Yes, I see you and your companions have done a thorough job of seeing to that,” Zevran answered with a short glance back to Karrok’s vacant face. “Not that I mean to cast blame for such things. It is only to be expected.” “You’re going to give us some answers.” The point of her dagger crept closer, a glimpse of his spilt lip and battered nose reflected back at him from its edge. “And if you want to keep your throat, I’d keep them honest.”

“But of course, dear Warden,” he said with a flash of blood-stained teeth. “It would be my pleasure. We have much to discuss, I am certain.”

[specialagentartemis]

💗 for the ask game!

WIP Ask Game

💗 Is there a scene you can’t wait to write for a WIP?

Heck yeah! Most of my stories have a few key anchoring scenes that glitter crystal-clear in my mind that I want to reach. Though a lot of them would just kind of sound like "Yeong-suk confronts Murderbot and Thiago as they plan to evacuate the planet because they know that the mining union's plan to start their strike by setting off the governor module of every SecUnit on the premises, killing them all, will go Really Fucking Horribly" because they're big Payoff Scenes. One of the reasons these are eternal WIPs...

Another big Payoff Scene is in Change the Rules, where the concept started with two such vividly clear scenes I wanted to write: one was the "which one is the Real Eiffel and which is a VR copy?" scene and the way Minkowski solves it (which I wrote already - inspired by a method of solving that traditional riddle that I've never seen anyone take!), and one is the pivotal scene that gives the fic its name (which I haven't yet.) The premise is that the Hephaestus crew are being forced to play a series of games in VR that are a "team building exercise" but are mostly just psychological torture in a way VR can uniquely provide. The last such "game" is a Prisoner's Dilemma game with punishments that involve rewriting your personality or erasing key memories if you lose.

So Minkowski and Eiffel are set against each other, offered their most selfish desires if they choose "betray," and the other chooses "ally," where their "win" state is that the other person's personality gets rewritten to something more "convenient" to them... and Eiffel goes "Oh wait! I know this one!" and rattles off a whole string of praise for Minkowski, who he's been in conflict with the Entire Time, and how he doesn't want the change that's being proposed, actually.

Minkowski goes ??? and the AI running the game, Eris, goes ???, but, frustrated, offers a different personality change instead. Eiffel confidently says, no, he wouldn't want to make Minkowski change to be that, either.

(Minkowski, whose win condition is "Eiffel's personality gets rewritten so he actually likes being a diligent and hardworking crewmember" and is kinda tempted by that, feels Bad now.)

Frustrated, Eris changes the offer yet again: if Minkowski picks "ally" and Eiffel picks "betray," Eiffel's win condition is that Minkowski doesn't learn his Deep Dark Secret. Eiffel blanches at this, this is the first thing that gets to him... and Minkowski objects to this one, because that's fundamentally changing the rules of how the prisoner's dilemma works! That's blatantly tipping the scales to Minkowski's side, where Minkowski gets a "win" even on the neutral ending! That isn't fair or equitable! What kind of rigged-ass game is this!

Eris throws up her metaphorical hands and yells at them to stop breaking her game and just vote already, why are they so obnoxious. This is what the line in the summary that goes "Eiffel misunderstands what’s going on so fundamentally that he accidentally outsmarts Eris; and Minkowski’s dedication to playing by the rules is what breaks the game" refers to. Someday... I will finish it... because I thought I was being clever and funny by putting a Twist on the whole Change of Mind scenario...

[azems-familiar]

Character Masterlist

so this is an updated version of my last oc masterlist post; it's going to be a work in progress with links being updated as i create bios and whatnot. the end goal is it's going to have all three of my swtor canons and my kotor canon listed here, each character will have a small blurb, and i'll link a bio about each character that has images and a little more in depth description of them and their plot!

under a readmore because it's going to be long.

EDIT: decided to add my mass effect and dragon age blorbos as well, though the dragon age ones are going to be a massive WIP until i finish some playthroughs.

SWTOR/KOTOR

how does a man change the universe?

(kotor fics, solo, connects to swtor canon "like a moth to you, sunlight")

Revan Adarii: a mostly-light-side, incredibly powerful young Jedi with an unprecedented gift for psychometry and a skill with strategy and tactics not often seen, Revan drags herself back to a difficult and painful redemption after falling hard during the Mandalorian Wars and briefly having her memories stripped from her. After the destruction of the Star Forge, she slipped off and started a family with Bastila Shan and Alek, only to vanish into the Unknown Regions for a second time four years later, leaving behind her partners and two children.

Qatya Petheir: young and barely knighted at the start of the Mandalorian Wars, Qatya's gift for strategy and her tireless determination and commitment vaulted her into the position of Revan's third-in-command. after ten years of exile, punishment for activating the Mass Shadow Generator, she returned to the galaxy at large to defeat another Sith threat, finally settling in and rebuilding the Jedi Order as its Grand Master.

canon: start a war

(combined canon with @ipreferfiction)

Lia Vhoss: Lia is a nautolan Jedi knight who served as Satele Shan's padawan during her teenage years. she's one half of a dyad in the Force with her best friend, J'lima Akarr. current Eternal Commander of the Alliance.

Vreila Lanar: Vreila is a miraluka Jedi master and was Syo Bakarn's padawan. a master on the Jedi High Council, she serves as the Republic's and Jedi Order's liaison with the Eternal Alliance and the Master of the Odessen Jedi Enclave.

Kal'vaela Corrin: a cathar soldier who was the youngest and last member of Havoc Squad before it defected to the Empire, Kal is responsible for several of the Republic's top military and intelligence forces defecting and is the CO of Imperial SpecOps unit Blackout Squad.

Vyl Kivan: Vyl is a former twi'lek slave who was freed and sent to Korriban to be trained as a Sith. he had a brief career as Baras' tool, and then as Vitiate's Wrath, before defecting to the Jedi after being pushed to invade Tython. he currently serves as a Jedi master in the Odessen enclave.

Avaanla Ki: known as Darth Aedis, Avaanla is a togruta former pleasure slave, Darth Thanaton's apprentice, the former Dark Councilor for the Sphere of Mysteries, and now serves as one of two co-empresses of the Sith Empire. she also remains the Master of the Revanite cult, though it has much less galactic presence than it used to.

Araala Ki: Araala is a former Jedi knight who fell and turned to the Sith on Corellia. she's the direct apprentice of Darth Nox, the other co-empress of the Sith Empire.

Averr'iis'aloh: known titles for the chiss spy Riisa include Cipher Eight, Legate, and Keeper of Imperial/Sith Intelligence. she currently serves under Theron Shan, Alliance spymaster.

Sa'ziri: Sa'ziri is a twi'lek ex-slave recruited by Darth Arkous into both the Sith and the Revanites. she's a part of the small Sith Academy on Odessen, mostly because she has nowhere else to go.

canon: like a moth to you, sunlight

(shared canon with @sith-shenanigans)

Arielle Tanith: a togruta Jedi knight with the rare power of battle meditation, Arielle spends several years as the Jedi Battlemaster before being captured by Zakuul. she is one of two co-commanders of the Eternal Alliance, leads the Eternal Fleet, and maintains peace in a galaxy unused to anything but war.

Chril'lith'anasin: formerly the Barsen'thor of the Jedi Order, Illitha is a chiss ex-Jedi who walked the tightrope between Jedi and Sith for several years before eventually establishing themself as a Republic-aligned Sith. they are the Rift Alliance's liaison with the Eternal Alliance prior to the two becoming one entity, and often liaise with the Republic on the Eternal Commanders' behalf.

Ktis Kressh: current Empress of the Sith Empire, Ktis is a pureblood Sith and the heir to the disgraced but ancient Kressh bloodline. former pirate captain and occasionally Republic privateer. even-more-former titled apprentice to Darth Thanaton. also a Child of the Emperor.

Callien Ordo: daughter of Jekiah Ordo, champion of the Great Hunt, Callien is clanborn human and spends several years collecting bounties and working with pirates and smugglers. after Zakuul invades and her father is killed, she's drawn back to Mandalore the Avenger's side to become her second in command and frequent liaison with the Eternal Alliance.

Chril'lam'inar: the twin sister of Illitha, Illami is also known as Darth K'imsi, former Councilor for the Sphere of Imperial Intelligence and double agent of the Republic. she now serves the Eternal Alliance's intelligence network.

Niveha Veshari / Niwûihû Wûshaari: Niveha is a pureblood Sith who spends several years serving as Darth Arkous' apprentice before being betrayed and left for dead. she's now a Jedi knight, though she still struggles with the cultural disconnect she feels.

Sozik Veshari: a Sith Lord who formerly served under Darth Serevin, Sozik is a former member of the sphere of Expansion and Diplomacy who served as a diplomat on Voss for several years during the Cold War. after his daughter was betrayed and fled to the Jedi, he left the Empire behind to follow her, eventually finding his way to the Alliance.

canon: hold the hand of the god-child

(shared canon with @ipreferfiction)

Inrokini'kat'rath: Ikatra is a chiss ex-Jedi knight and the current Eternal Commander of the Eternal Alliance. though she once was considered one of the greatest Jedi of her time, she now considers herself a reluctant Sith and is officially affiliated with neither Order.

Aalira Dhey: sister to Mirjal, Aalira is a togruta Cinnagar native and member of the Krath. she's a runaway Jedi padawan and was considered king of the underworld for several years. serves as Vaylin's High Justice on Zakuul.

Vasmi na'Dreshdae: Vasmi is the pureblood Sith former Emperor's Wrath. she knelt to Neyri during the Sith Civil War and now serves as the Wrath of the Sith, Neyri's non-sphere-affiliated right hand.

Akada Szorn: a Ziosti miraluka, Akada is known as Cipher Nine in the Empire and Legate in the Republic. she served under Darth Marr for several years after the dissolution of Imperial Intelligence before fleeing the Empire and becoming an information broker on Zakuul. she serves the Eternal Alliance.

Neyri Qel-Droma: biologically human but culturally Sith, Neyri is the descendant of Exar Kun and Ulic Qel-Droma and is the Jen'ari of the Sith Empire, following a bloody civil war.

canon: the righteous hand of god, the devil you forgot

(shared canon with @ipreferfiction and @sith-shenanigans)

Iaris Kuro: a mirialan man in his early 50s, Iaris is a smuggler of some renown. along with his pirate crew - most of whom he recruited on Rishi, all of them known for their morality, a somewhat rare feature in pirates - he runs supplies for the Jedi Order, maintaining supply lines between Tython and Ossus.

Yatali Kuro: known as Darth Nox in the Empire, head of the sphere of Ancient Knowledge, Yatali is the youngest-ever Dark Councilor in recorded Imperial history. though her past as a Cartel slave and her meteoric rise to power is well-known, her relation to the former Emperor's Wrath and current Alliance Commander is kept quiet.

Qyâsik Dzwokai: Qyasik is the pureblood Sith daughter and heir of Darth Marr. exiled by an Imperial decree the Dark Council couldn't override, she snuck her way back into Sith society as a bounty hunter before becoming the new Empress' political advisor.

canon: this is the road to ruin

Kehree Adull:

Vonyra Dozai:

Zakri Tave: Zakri is a self-admitted heretic Sith Pureblood who, along with zir entire family, was enslaved when zie was a child for that crime. after getting out of slavery and into Sith training due to zir strength in the Force, zie proves zir heresy correct by first taking a seat on the Dark Council, and then becoming the new Emperor.

Kolasei Niket: Kolasei is a cathar bounty hunter who just wanted to prove themself and find a way to survive. instead, when they win the Great Hunt, they find themself forced into joining the culture that genocided their people three centuries ago.

a few final notes: start a war follows the swtor game plots fairly closely in a lot of ways. there's a lot of minor canon divergences, and some characters play different roles than they do in canon, as well as the occasional swapping around of an expansion in the timeline, but it's fairly canon-accurate.

sunlight is fairly canon-compliant through the early expansions and the Zakuul arcs, in terms of broad arcs, but from onslaught and on is heavily canon-divergent, and post-class stories it has quire a few moderate canon divergences.

god-child's canon starts out with an entirely different worldstate in which the Republic fully didn't exist in the majority of the galaxy for a solid fifty years around the kotor era, and that echoes forward into swtor in multiple ways. the biggest story arcs - the class stories, zakuul - remain the same, but everything else is heavily canon divergent, although most of the canon expansions exist in some form or another.

MASS EFFECT

solo mass effect content

Lyrida Shepard: a fully paragon colonist/sole survivor who romances Kaidan, brokers peace between the geth and the quarians, and destroys the Reapers without losing the geth. she survives and builds a family on the Citadel.

unnamed verse shared with @ipreferfiction

Mikka Shepard: the very renegade younger sister of paragon Taryn Shepard, Mikka is earthborn/ruthless and is the Spectre out of the two of them, though she's not the one to sacrifice herself on the Citadel at the end. she romances Javik and is a full biotic.

DRAGON AGE

Desri Surana: a half-elven mage raised in the Denerim alienage before she was discovered to be an apostate and sent to the Circle. Duncan's daughter, though she doesn't know this. probably going to romance a hardened Leliana.

Vivian Hawke: a mostly blue, slightly red mage who romances Anders and campaigns heavily for mage rights both within and without Kirkwall. she supports Anders' decision to destroy the Kirkwall chantry and remains with him after it. her brother Carver is a templar.

Vythral'a Lavellan: First of her clan before she was sent to spy on the conclave, Vythral'a is a very unwilling Herald and a slightly-more-willing Inquisitor, determined to defeat Corypheus and protect her clan. very much loves her people and her culture and would do anything for them. her curiosity and love of unique magic endeared her to Solas, and she falls into a romance with him.

[ariadnaes]

╭﹒❍﹒𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕾𝖕𝖎𝖓𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖂𝖍𝖊𝖊𝖑 — a writeblr re-introduction.

⋆˚﹆⟠﹒𝕮HRISTENING ! 

hi, my name’s aurora (aura / rora) and i use she/her pronouns! i was previously @winteranarchy on writeblr but i’ve decided to rebrand and reintroduce myself. my writing will be posted here on this blog and a list of my current projects can be found on this page, but i’ll also start being more active on my writing twitter @rorawrites. you can also find me at my main @warstorm which is my litblr where i post and reblog edits.  i’m a scorpio, slytherin, i/entj and vietnamese-australia. i’m a lover of literature and mythology as well as classical and fantasy novels and some of my favourite books include the night circus, the picture of dorian gray and perfume: the story of a murderer. please feel free to add me to any of your tag lists or chat with me through my inbox or dms, i’d love to get to know more you lovely people and get acquainted with your writing too !

projects and taglist below the cut.

⋆˚﹅♡⃕﹒𝕿HE 𝖁ISION !

₀₁・𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐

— The first installment in the Iron Star Duology.

Crimson Falling is the story of tempests, of serpents and of saints. It is the story of blood and the tragic fates of the decadent and the cunning. After a night of hallucinated memories leading to their nemesis’ body found floating in the school’s lake, a group of seven students become ensnared within a plot to cover up what they believe to be blood upon their hands. They soon begin to realise that their academy is not what it seems upon the surface, as they begin to unearth the curious evils that lie within the institute and the secrets thought lost and buried alongside the dead heiress.

introduction (coming soon!) | wip page | wip tag

₀₂・𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚜

— The first installment in the Silver Sun Trilogy.

The court has descended into madness. In a land where daylight rises and cedes in a cycle of seven weeks, a kingdom has awoken at the first fall of sun to their beloved monarchs beheaded; murdered by their own son and heir to their throne. The crown now falls into the lap of the youngest prince, a boy who never planned to hold such great power and had no clue on how to keep it. Amidst the battle for his rightful throne, Prince Castiel must not only deal with the rebellion that his brother ignited and his sister’s mysterious disappearance but also travel to the ends of the land to find the last enchantress, the only one who can save his decaying soul, before the sun sets on the seventh week. In a land of deceit, ambition and betrayal; with only one crown to be claimed and a desperate, incumbent prince determined to keep it in the wake of his parent’s assassination, tensions have never be higher within the Court of Silver Suns.

introduction (coming soon!) | wip page | wip tag

₀₃・𝚕𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚢𝚙𝚛𝚞𝚜

— A short story retelling of Pygmalion and Galatea set in the Decadent Era and inspired by Frankenstein, The Picture of Dorian Gray and Perfume: the story of a murderer.

When a single drop of blood falls into a sea of foaming sapphire and azure hues, a monster of beautiful destruction is created. The Birth of Venus catalyses within its sweeping strokes, an even greater beauty that it beholds; but even from the same likeness of the goddess, the Mériadec portrait outshines its predecessor both in aestheticism and in gore. At an Italian gallery exhibit in the year 1817, French portrait painter, Pascal Mériadec, is challenged by scornful critics to commission a portrait more beautiful than Venus herself. With each brush of paint upon his canvas, Mériadec slowly begins to fall obsessively in love with the woman in the frame; spending every waking hour with the girl whom he has named Eglantine, the Lady of Cyprus. Filled with the desperate desire for the love he shared with Eglantine to be real, the artist would do anything in his power to bring her to life, even if it meant leaving death in his wake.

introduction (coming soon!) | wip page | wip tag

₀₄・𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚡

— The first installment in the Pantheon Duology.

A world basked in ivory and gold, painted with age old myth upon every surface; hides the flaws of a government whose corruption will cause the downfall of their people. Unbeknownst to the revelling and immoral power of the city, the seeds of rebellion have long since been planted, flowers now blooming in the cracked pavement where blood and tears have watered them. The House of Pollux, one organisation in a triumvirate of self-proclaimed saviours, has set their sights on overthrowing the government and fighting the rising discord that threatens the city. Seven abducted prodigies, stolen from homes that have never belonged to them and from names they will never remember, are tasked with the infiltration and assassination of their country’s leader. These gifted individuals who have grown where the light has not found them, have now come forth to reclaim the world that belongs to them and to save the country from the clutches of beautiful tyrants. And thus glorious mutiny arises, in the name of the Pantheon.

introduction (coming soon!) | wip page | wip tag

₀₅・𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛'𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑𝚢

— Standalone Novel (possibility of a prequel novella).

Eternity appears to be a rather long time for punishment, no matter how malicious the criminal was, however, in her liminal state drifting between immortality and mortality, the Empress didn't care, rather she loved it. The Duchess of the Netherworld floats between beautiful places, corrupting them with her presence, rendering victims mad only for her mere entertainment. And when she tires of her station, she finds herself a new arena for her twisted games, each time a new setting that she has only dreamt of in her eternal torture. She does not greet you as you are welcomed through the entrance of The Winter Anarchy; an opera house of such opulence and decadence so uncommon to mankind. The vestibules of hell embrace your tortured and devious soul and you are welcomed like the mad sinner that you are. You are not dead though, not quite yet at least. She has saved you from such a fate for now and you really ought to thank her for her ill intended grace. You are a puppet, merely here to play a game… her game. Win and you shall be graced with the eternal glory, freedom and power of beings such as she is but lose and you must pay the most treacherous price for every drop of unholy blood running through your veins.

introduction (coming soon!) | wip page | wip tag

taglist. (tagging a few friends, mutuals and writeblrs that i admire. let me know if you would like to be added or removed from future taglists!) @vaelinor . @kalliopeian . @veiliza . @rapunzelle . @aeternve . @laythe . @xiyais . @queen-of-dust . @bintiskandar . @theheartbreakclub . @elizaabennet . @duskbourne . @ortolon . @sourrcandy . @atelierwriting . @sprigofbasil . @serpentarii . @herondalelucies . @thetragediies . @chuchoters . @parsel-tongue . @arkicts . @ikilledmyocs​ . @hiswraith​ . @oasis-of-you​

[gffa]

I have often given Qui-Gon Jinn a hard time because he’s so often used in STAR WARS fandom as a weapon to beat on other characters I love and it makes it difficult to like him, as well as it overshadows who the character himself is. So, to help balance that out some, I wanted to do a set of recs to remind myself–and just share some happiness in!–that I actually do very much like Qui-Gon! He’s a good person who really loved the people around him, he cared very deeply, he had an amazing friendship with Yoda (seriously, that Yoda’s the one he reaches out to when he becomes a Force Ghost, that even after death, Qui-Gon loves his Jedi family, it gives me feelings in my feelings place every single time), and one of my favorite things about Master & Apprentice is that I often got the impression that he knew he was kind of obnoxious sometimes, but he was at peace with it, he was fine with that. That was a straight shot to my heart, I love that dude! So, here have some fics that celebrate that Qui-Gon is actually a really great character. He may not always be the central character, but I remember him being well portrayed in these and they gave me good Qui-Gon feelings! STAR WARS - QUI-GON JINN FIC RECS: ✦ Reprise by Elfpen, obi-wan & qui-gon & anakin & dooku & mace & cast, time travel, 491.1k wip    Ben Kenobi dies aboard the Death Star in the year 0 BBY. He wakes up shortly thereafter in the Jedi temple in the year 41 BBY. Haunted by memories and regret, Ben must forge a new path for himself in the Jedi Order of his youth while navigating the murky waters of time travel. Crafting a better future from bitter experience is hard, but learning to heal is even harder. Major AU. ✦ The Way Back Home by Anakinstopyourpanakin, happygiraffe, obi-wan & qui-gon & bant & tahl, 39.5k wip    He had been missing for nearly four years. How could Obi-Wan be alive? It was too good to be true, and simultaneously too horrifying. What had been done to the innocent child who was currently falling asleep against his shoulder, and did his wounds run too deep for Qui-Gon to mend? ✦ When the world gets too heavy put it on my back by nematoda, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon, 29.8k    Obi-Wan is different when it comes to relationships. Not in a bad way, just… different. Studies of platonic love in the life of Obi-Wan Kenobi, exploring the master/padawan relationship with Qui-Gon and eventually with Anakin. ✦ Shadows of the Future by stormqueen873, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & cast, 129.3k    ObiWan lost the duel on Mustafar, but instead of dying, he finds himself on a ship leaving Tatooine, with his old Master and a familiar young boy. As events begin to unfold, can he stop the future he knows from occuring? ✦ No Galaxy for Good Jedi by Annie_Walker, obi-wan & anakin & padme & qui-gon & dooku & yoda & cast, some obi-wan/satine, sith!qui-gon, 124.8k wip    Obi-Wan Kenobi was only a young padawan when he ran away with three-year old Anakin. He had no choice after his Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, fell to the Dark Side by Master Dooku’s manipulations. ✦ Masters and Padawans: Three Generations by GirlwithCurls98, qui-gon & obi-wan + obi-wan & anakin + anakin & ahsoka, 24.6k    Three generations of incredible bonds. ✦ What Is My Heritage? by Marnie, qui-gon & yoda, 7.7k    Qui-Gon, age 13, tries to find a place to belong. ✦ Coming Home by Marnie, qui-gon & yoda & dooku, 18.1k    A story telling how Qui-Gon comes to be Dooku’s apprentice. ✦ Trust Me by Charmisjess, dooku & qui-gon, 2k    A certain Jedi Master is less than pleased about being laid up with the flu. ✦ Triviality and QuiGon by Charmisjess, dooku & qui-gon, 4.1k    The Council’s infinite cruelty gives Dooku the most brutal of punishments: quality time with the Padawan and his plantlife! ✦ Rainy by Charmisjess, dooku & qui-gon, 26.8k wip    A seemingly easy mission goes horribly wrong for Padawan Qui and Master Dooku as they struggle to battle an insane adversary, poisons and curses, and an awful lot of rain. ✦ The Luckiest Man Alive + Letting Go by Elfpen, obi-wan & qui-gon & dooku & yoda, 7.9k    Yoda, Dooku, and a twenty four year old QuiGon go to the small planet of Omartia to pick up a forcesensitive infant. + Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan go to pick up a Force-sensitive child. On the way back, Qui-Gon is faced with the fact that someday very soon, he will have to let Obi-Wan go. ✦ Lineage by ruth baulding, obi-wan & qui-gon & xanatos & cast, 35.9k    AU!Jedi Apprentice. Book I: In which master and apprentice meet for the first time, enjoy a disastrous adventure courtesy of Xanatos DuCrion, and reap the fruits of patience and fortitude. A fanciful retelling of the original. ✦ Lineage II by ruth baulding, obi-wan & qui-gon & cast, 40.9k    A year or so has elapsed since the last time we saw our heroes. BOOK 2: In which master and apprentice investigate an evil brainwashing plot, attend a boisterous wedding, and battle the enemy within. ✦ Lineage III by ruth baulding, obi-wan & qui-gon & dooku & xanatos & bant & cast, 49.4k    AU!Jedi Apprentice. Book III: Master and apprentice face an important rite of passage, grapple with a traitorous plot within the Temple’s walls, and discover the limits of obedience and intuition. Appearances by Bant Eerin, Xanatos DuCrion, Yan Dooku, and others. ✦ Lineage IV by ruth baulding, obi-wan & qui-gon & siri & adi gallia, 39.3k    Master and apprentice endure a stint with the Agri-Corps, and find that trouble has a way of coming home to haunt them. Featuring a pile of bantha poodoo, a tentacled carnivorous plant, a desperate escaped convict, and a highly provocative young woman. ✦ Lineage V by ruth baulding, obi-wan & qui-gon & tahl (& some qui-gon/tahl) & dooku & cast, 50.7k    An evil scientist wreaks havoc when she captures Jedi Knight Tahl Uvain for purposes of obscure research; Qui-Gon Jinn and his Padawan rush to the rescue, only to be embroiled in further trouble; and Master Dooku joins in the hunt with characteristic aplomb. ✦ Lineage VI by ruth baulding, obi-wan & qui-gon & cast, 66.2k    Master and apprentice undertake a risky undercover mission to expose conspiracy in a far-flung sector; a comedy of manners abruptly transforms into a nightmare when their cover is blown; and a desperate escape gambit strikes deep at the foundations of trust. ✦ Lineage VII by ruth baulding, obi-wan & qui-gon & siri & adi gallia & some obi-wan/siri, 74.5k    Sent to the aid of their fellow Jedi on a disastrous mission to New Apsolon, master and apprentice contend with brainwashing, genocide, conspiracy, and the perilous realm of the heart. ✦ Lineage VIII by ruth baulding, obi-wan & qui-gon & cast, 83.4k    Hard on the heels of the mission to Apsolon, master and apprentice find new troubles - in their own backyard. Jenna Zan Arbor faces prosecution for her crimes; the Jedi grapple with the disastrous realities of corruption and personal loss; Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon undertake perilous and disparate quests. ✦ Lineage IX by ruth baulding, obi-wan & qui-gon & dooku & cast, 61k    A year after parting ways, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon struggle to complete their self-appointed quests for enlightenment and justice. ✦ Lineage X by ruth baulding, obi-wan & qui-gon & dooku, 49.2k    The war-ravaged world Melida-Daan is backdrop to a manhunt, an occult conspiracy, a bitter guerilla conflict, and a test of ultimate loyalties. ✦ Lineage XI by ruth baulding, obi-qan & qui-gon & cast, 56k    The disastrous situation on Melida-Daan takes a turn for the worse; the Jedi dispatch a team to capture a dangerous murderer; and Qui-Gon Jinn and his former apprentice face the consequences of their rebellion. Series finale. ✦ Snakefic by esama, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & yoda & cast, 6k    It was only the matter of time before the egg hatched. ✦ Strokes of Colored Grey by Elfpen, obi-wan & qui-gon, 9.5k    ObiWan has been drawing since he was a small youngling, but only a few people know, including his teacher, Vianro Dleka, and the elderly, trustworthy archivist, KinWan Terius. But what happens when his master discovers his secret? ✦ Pies, Books, and Swords, obi-wan & qui-gon/tahl, 1.2k    Qui-Gon Jinn has made quite a good name for himself, as far as holonet cooking shows go. ✦ They Are by Charmisjess, dooku & qui-gon, 1.7k    This is their moment, their eternity. They think its going to be like this forever. ✦ Strongest Stars by Elfpen, obi-wan & qui-gon & chirrut & cast, 2.6k    The Force works in mysterious ways. A few quiet moments in the dark create a touchstone spanning across three generations, two orthodoxies, a war, time, space, and the galaxy. A maverick meets a visionary and listens for a song. Spoilers for Rogue One, sort of? ✦ Anecdotally by Elfpen, obi-wan & qui-gon & cast, 14.6k    The biggest stories are always made up of smaller ones. Here are some of the forgotten moments in the life of Obi-Wan Kenobi. Will feature a wide variety of genres, characters, eras, and AUs. Oneshots from whenever inspiration strikes. ✦ the floor under our feet by FoxGlade, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & qui-gon & dooku + background pairings, 4.5k wip    or, the adventures and exploits of Qui-Gon’s three adopted children. ✦ A Long, Long Time Ago by ruth baulding, dooku & qui-gon + qui-gon & obi-wan + obi-wan & anakin + anakin & ahsoka, 5.8k    A wisdom tale handed passed down through the generations poses troublesome questions for a line of masters and Padawans, from Dooku to Ahsoka Tano. ✦ Family by lilyconrad, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & darth maul & cast, sith!obi-wan, 6.8k    Seven years after the duel on Naboo, Obi-Wan Kenobi has turned to the dark, Maul has turned to the light, and young Anakin is caught somewhere in-between. Can Qui-Gon rescue his Padawan before it’s too late? ✦ Fountain of Force by esama, qui-gon & cast, final fantasy 7 crossover, 8.9k    In which Qui-Gon Jinn comes from Gaia. ✦ Midwinter Sun by orphan_account, dooku & qui-gon, 4.2k    Padawan Jinn is a rebel and Dooku is very much not ready. ✦ Jedi In Winter by bluedragoninamber, obi-wan & qui-gon & dooku & yoda, 12.3k    In which Yan Dooku understands regret and tries to make things right. Something new will be born from the ashes of the old but exactly what remains to be seen. ✦ A New History by Annie Walker, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & dooku & cast, time travel, 533.4k wip    During a heated battle, Dooku escaped into the past! Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker follow to stop him, but discover that Dooku went to the past where Obi-Wan is a young padawan to a very much alive Qui-Gon Jinn. Now, the two must go undercover to stop Dooku’s plans from coming to fruition in order to save not only the future, but also young Obi-Wan Kenobi and Qui-Gon Jinn. ✦ In the Heart of the Force by ReneeoftheStars, ahsoka & qui-gon, 1.7k    Ahsoka Tano travels back to the world between world’s. Searching for answers, she comes across a past event that only makes her question the past even more. ✦ Stitches and Time by ladyarcherfan3, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & ocs, 4k    Alara Nel is a seamstress who keeps getting an unusually large number of orders for Jedi robes from an Obi-Wan Kenobi. Over the years, she learns why and gets to know the Jedi a little bit better. ✦ The Uses of a Sandwich by Laura Kaye (laurakaye), obi-wan & qui-gon & oc & cast, 17.6k    A few months after being taken as a Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi faces a challenge: meeting his Master’s first apprentice. ✦ untitled by elfpen, obi-wan & qui-gon, 3.1k    Anonymous asked: if you’re still accepting prompts: smol padawan obi-wan letting slip his law abiding exterior and letting loose the terrifying intensity beneath it. preferably in defense of qui-gon or something. ✦ The will of the Force by Lysore, obi-wan & yoda & qui-gon, 2.7k    Obi-Wan piqued Yoda’s interest early on, except the Grand Master of the Order had known for just as long that the Initiate was destined to be Qui-Gon Jinn’s Padawan. ✦ I thought I fought this war alone by stonefreeak, obi-wan & qui-gon & cast, time travel, 3.7k    Obi-Wan is thirteen years old, just about to start learning Ataru from his Master. Obi-Wan is sixty-one years old, dead and one with the Force since four years back. Obi-Wan is both, and neither. ✦ The First Trial by Raven_Knight, obi-wan & qui-gon, 2k    Accompanied by his Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, young Obi-Wan Kenobi undergoes his first trial and rite as a Padawan Learner on the frozen planet of Ilum. ✦ Hearts Entwined by KeeperofSeeds, obi-wan & shmi & qui-gon, time travel, 6.5k wip    stolen moments between Padawan Kenobi and Shmi Skywalker, glimpsed by Qui Gon Jinn, and his continued attempts to understand both this strange new addition to the Temple and the unexplained relationship between the pair ✦ The Orchards by Raven_Knight, obi-wan & qui-gon & cast, 3.6k    When young Obi-Wan Kenobi is injured on a previous mission, Qui-Gon Jinn refuses to accept further off-planet missions until his Padawan’s recovery. Yoda assigns the pair an in-Temple mission of utmost importance while Obi-Wan heals. Master and Padawan welcome the change of pace. ✦ The Path of Totality by Raven_Knight, obi-wan & yoda & qui-gon & cast, 1.8k    Before going their separate ways into exile, Obi-Wan Kenobi shares with Yoda a lesson of wisdom he’d learned from his late Master, Qui-Gon Jinn. A lesson of darkness, light, and hope. ✦ Finding Balance by Raven_Knight, qui-gon & dooku & jocasta, 1.4k    Eleven-year-old Padawan Jinn is left behind while his Master goes on a mission off-planet. Qui-Gon is left in the care of Jocasta Nu, and he’s not exactly enthusiastic about it. ✦ Warmth by Tomatosoupful, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & xanatos & tahl & shmi & cast, child endangerment, time travel, 59.8k wip    Time Travel AU. Anakin has woken up in the past. Time to say hello to past friends, right? Only problem, Anakin is a walking talking human disaster and makes a lot of stupid decisions. Stealing a Jedi baby from the temple certainly isn’t the smartest thing he’s done. ✦ Abducted by devilinthedetails, obi-wan & qui-gon, 1.6k    In trying to rescue the kidnapped daughter of a planetary leader, Qui-Gon finds himself abducted and in need of Obi-Wan’s rescue. ✦ Trust Fall by devilinthedetails, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon, 1.4k    Two generations of Masters and Padawans. Two generations of trust falls. ✦ Something Borrowed, Something New by Raven_Knight, qui-gon & dooku/jocasta, 1.6k    Qui-Gon Jinn had only been claimed as Knight Dooku’s Padawan for three weeks before he’d managed to get himself into trouble with his Master. ✦ In Memoriam by ruth baulding, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & evan piell, 6.4k    In the midst of a desperate escape from the Citadel, Obi Wan mourns a friendship. A tribute to Jedi Master Evan Piell. ✦ One Day by ruth baulding, obi-wan & qui-gon & mace & shmi & bail/breha & palpatine, 9.9k    A single moment in time, on five different planets. A birth, an election, a discovery, a marriage, and a mission. Because all things are mysteriously united in the Force. ✦ They Are by Charmisjess, dooku & qui-gon, 1.7k    This is their moment, their eternity. They think its going to be like this forever. ✦ The Exchange by MissLearn, obi-wan & anakin & some anakin/padme & ahsoka & qui-gon & rex & cast, time travel, 77k wip    ROTS Obi-Wan and Anakin are swapped with their younger, TPM, selves. It changes things, in both parallels. ✦ Family by lilyconrad, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & darth maul & cast, sith!obi-wan, 6.8k    Seven years after the duel on Naboo, Obi-Wan Kenobi has turned to the dark, Maul has turned to the light, and young Anakin is caught somewhere in-between. Can Qui-Gon rescue his Padawan before it’s too late? ✦ Fountain of Force by esama, qui-gon & cast, final fantasy 7 crossover, 8.9k    In which Qui-Gon Jinn comes from Gaia. ✦ Rewrought by esama, obi-wan & qui-gon & maul, time travel, 4.4k    Bit o time travel ✦ Lion Jinn by esama, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & cast, 5.7k wip    Qui-Gon Jinn reincarnates as a lion. ✦ Brothers (working title) by Charity_Angel, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & padme & shmi & yoda & cast, 17.3k wip    In which Qui-Gon has a very near miss on Naboo, Obi-Wan is very stubborn, and they end up breaking a lot of rules accidentally as a result. All because of that kid they picked up on Tatooine. ✦ untitled by legobiwan, yoda & dooku & qui-gon, 1.5k    Yan Dooku was getting too old for this type of thing. He had rushed into the healer’s ward, Qui-gon’s limp body in his arms. That in itself had been a feat, as the boy’s gangly limbs were everywhere, but somehow the older Jedi Master had been able to deposit his wayward Padawan on a bed before an errant arm took his nose off. ✦ Drifting Starlight by Pandora151, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & qui-gon & cast, time travel, 60.3k    Just before the fateful Battle of Naboo, Qui-Gon Jinn is brought to the future, to the Clone Wars. He doesn’t know why or how, but he knows one thing for sure: He never, in a million years, expected the galaxy to end up like this. ✦ Although He Smiles by AutumnChild22, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & padme & qui-gon & cast, time travel, 86.9k wip    She’d counted the 750 steps down from the Temple. She’d said her goodbyes, and left Master Anakin standing below the great pillars. What more could the Force want from her? ‘Everything’ sums it up nicely. Waking 13 years in the past, Ahsoka faces a harsh reality. As events begin to unfold, she faces a ticking clock that times a galaxy’s end. ✦ A New History by Annie Walker, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & dooku & cast, time travel, 533.4k wip    During a heated battle, Dooku escaped into the past! Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker follow to stop him, but discover that Dooku went to the past where Obi-Wan is a young padawan to a very much alive Qui-Gon Jinn. Now, the two must go undercover to stop Dooku’s plans from coming to fruition in order to save not only the future, but also young Obi-Wan Kenobi and Qui-Gon Jinn. ✦ The First Trial by Raven_Knight, obi-wan & qui-gon, 2k    Accompanied by his Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, young Obi-Wan Kenobi undergoes his first trial and rite as a Padawan Learner on the frozen planet of Ilum. ✦ Hearts Entwined by KeeperofSeeds, obi-wan & shmi & qui-gon, time travel, 6.5k wip    stolen moments between Padawan Kenobi and Shmi Skywalker, glimpsed by Qui Gon Jinn, and his continued attempts to understand both this strange new addition to the Temple and the unexplained relationship between the pair ✦ Highly Dissatisfied by Raven_Knight, obi-wan & qui-gon, 1.1k    Obi-Wan enters the quarters he shares with his Master, intending to ask for help in preparation for his exams. Qui-Gon, however, is dealing with a far more urgent matter. ✦ playing yourself like a red three by EclipseMidnight (EternalEclipse), obi-wan & xanatos & qui-gon, 7.7k    As usual, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon’s mission has gone spectacularly sideways, this time before they even reach the planet they are meant to be helping. Luckily for them, they get some help from an unexpected source. ✦ so far the suns by blackkat, mace & qui-gon, 1.3k    “My old friend,” Qui-Gon tells Mace, quiet, and his presence comes closer. “I fear I made several mistakes in the past weeks, and I would ask you to correct them for me.” ✦ The Cry by batsojopo, obi-wan & qui-gon & xanatos & ocs & cast, 4.2k    This is my version of how Obi-Wan Kenobi arrived at the Jedi Temple. ✦ kybersong by Shadaras, obi-wan & qui-gon, 1.6k    Obi-Wan Kenobi goes in search of his lightsaber’s crystal heart. ✦ What Have We Become by Batsutousai, feemor & qui-gon & obi-wan & anakin & cast, time travel, 43.7k    One of Feemor’s greatest regrets, was that he never had the chance to get to know his brother-padawan, but the Force is willing to give him one more chance. And maybe, if he’s lucky, he can finally make amends with his former master and save them all in the process. ✦ We Start and End With Family by Batsutousai, feemor & qui-gon & obi-wan & yoda & cast, time travel, 8.8k    Qui-Gon had been mostly joking when he’d originally brought up the idea of a lineage dinner, but when his former padawan grabbed for the idea with both hands and a desperation Qui-Gon didn’t understand (and privately hoped he never would), he knew he would never be able to refuse. ✦ turning dust right into gold by blackkat, mace/qui-gon & depa & cast, 1.3k    Mace knows Depa too well. She’s absolutely going to do something terrible, particularly for Mace’s dignity. ✦ A Price to Be Paid by Peach_Bitters (Starf), qui-gon & dooku & cast, 3.1k    Young Qui-Gon learns there’s a price to be paid for his curiosity. ✦ For the Future of the Order by thetorontokid, obi-wan & qui-gon & cast, 3.9k    There are important lessons to be found in the Jedi Temple crèche.

[beautifulwhensarcastic]

hiiiii very curious about "price of harmony" for the WIP meme!

Hi Liv 😊

I don't know if you're familiar with @indiefic's Snowpiercer couple Curtis/Anna created in series Balance and Eternal Order (and some other works). In a way it's a very alternative steggy, since Anna has Hayley's face ^^ My story Price Of Harmony is about that couple as well, also in a Snowpiercer inspired universe, though without the train.

The world is frozen after the event called the Great Winter. A century later next generations of survivors are living in frozen cities and close surroundings. Each day is a fight to survive, especially when Wilford's troops raid the villages to steal most of their resources so the Glass City and its upper class thrive. Scattered in long distances, the smaller communities stand little to no chance against Wilford's reign. One day, however, a breathless courier runs into Anna's village, yelling of a successful uprising and Wilford's death. Later that night strange riders burst into their land and Anna sees for the first time the man proclaimed their savior - Curtis Everett. Getting rid of Wilford is not enough to guarantee peace, the people need a leader. Curtis thought it's going to be Gilliam, who is respected by every village and whose blessing provided Curtis with help from others (they didn't trust him without Gilliam's word of approval). But Gilliam declines. However, to assure the people that Curtis still has his full support he arranges for the best (in his eyes) solution - for Curtis to marry his daughter, Anna.

I honestly don't know when I finish it (years, maybe?), so in the meantime have a big chunk of it:

„Other villages-” Curtis shook his head. „The people agreed and joined only after knowing I have your support.”

Fire cracking and the buzzing glee of villagers unconscious to the serious matter at hand didn't ease the heaviness of silence which fell among the small circle.

Gilliam's influence couldn't be denied, no matter how modest he tried to act.

Wilford held everyone in grasp using fear. It was unknown how long people would honor Everett as their leader, if he hadn't got the support of each compound's council. Who were apt to lay down harsh laws and declines.

Gilliam's name guaranteed favor.

Without the clear blessing and Gilliam's guidance, other compounds not only could turn against Everett, but aim to tip the power balance, thrusting them into a civil war.

„Tradition is what we refused to let freeze.” It was Malyna's voice that broke the silence.

Her usually warm tone resounded with a fierce resilience. Though most associated Malyna with maternal behavior, a caring person mending aches of the villagers, she had a steel spine and enough dominance to handle position she had in their community.

Anna herself looked up to her, even though she preferred being seen as self-reliant in all cases.

Now she turned to look at Malyna, as did all gathered around the bonfire. Flickers of flames reflected in her dark eyes, shadows shaped her face into sharper and older than she was.

„Laws beyond crime and punishment,” Malyna continued- „but regarding the shape of our community, are why elders like Gilliam hold the so called power. Respecting the memory and humanity of our ancestors, that's what people in all the compounds cling to.”

She looked straight at Gilliam who only hummed in response.

In his eyes Curtis Everett gained followers for more complex reasons than rebellion itself; and definitely not because an old man patted him on the back.

But, Anna knew, Gilliam liked to delude himself by making people better and more honorable than they actually were.

„Perhaps,” Gilliam mused, tilting his head o the side- „there's a way to honor old traditions in a different way and secure the new harmony.”

A peculiar undertone of satisfaction could be heard in his voice. Barely recognizable even by those who knew Gilliam well. It made Curtis' frown deepen and for some reason put Anna on alert.

She couldn't be sure if her father anticipated this turn of events, but he definitely saw an opportunity to act out one of his little schemes.

„My daughter Anna.” Gilliam said, looking in her direction. „She's got more character and wit than me. Would do much better in a newly reformed city than an old cripple.”

Anna's fingers clenched around the tin cup, despite the burning heat hurting her fingertips. She felt her blood draining in a wave of cold dread only to return in an angry rush.

All eyes fell upon her. Everett's gaze reminded her of a just awoken kid who has no recognition of where he is and how exactly he got there. It was clear Gilliam caught him off guard, as well.

Anna would appreciate his lack of lewd eagerness at the suddenly presented prospect, if she wasn't so damn angry at the moment.

„She's his oldest.” McGregor added in a gruff, uninterested tone. „Taking her as yours would equal Gilliam's full support.”

No stronger argument than a man giving away his daughter to secure a political or economical deal.

Anna saw glimpses of that throughout her life, fished them out while learning of the humanity's past. However, never before had she suspected to become entangled in one. With all the blame she tended to put on her father, this one cold manipulation she had not anticipated.

„She is present and has a voice of her own!” Anna stood up abruptly.

____________________________

wip shame ask meme

[i-lionheart]

IT'S NOT A WIP ANYMORE BITCHES!!!!!

Ok so i wrote a fic that's basically this post by the-modern-typewriter but i took the concept and some main elements and rewrote it as a kylo ren self insert because of course i did i wanted a comfort fic and i refuse to apologize its not plagiarism i cited my sources k thx

anyways this is a Kylo ren x fem!reader (but the only time reader's gender is referenced as when they're referred to as "good girl" so make of that what you will). Angst, torture mention, self harm tw, suicide tw, depression tw, safe for work but implicit nudity. Also there's none of that "y/n" or (name) shit because I just personally hate it. I made this for me not you but it totally fukin slaps so read on at your own risk lmao

Tell Me Why

“You’ve been astonishingly resilient,” Ren said softly. “What a shame it has to come to this.”

His gaze roamed over you lazily, possessively, drinking in the sight of you. You were bound, gagged, and strapped down to an interrogation table. In his personal quarters, of all places.

You would trade every star in the galaxy to be anywhere but here.

Ren picked up a syringe full of clear, thick liquid off the tray of wicked-looking instruments that lay beside you and held it in front of your eyes. “I’m expect you’re quite familiar with this," he said, voice deceptively casual. "The resistance undoubtedly trained you to resist truth serum as insurance against the unthinkable. Obviously,” he said, indicating your current predicament, “They are fools.”

So it would be truth serum. You could handle this easily enough. All you had to do was tell him the truth, but not the one he was looking for. Simple.

Some miniscule change in your expression must have given your hubris away. Ren chuckled. “You poor thing.” he said. “Do you really think that we haven’t made… improvements on this since my grandfather held your precious General captive so long ago?”

You swallowed thickly, blood pounding through your temples as your breath caught in your throat. What could he possibly be talking about? Truth serum had been perfected in the days of Old Republic and hadn’t changed for centuries.

What advantage could he possibly hope to have?

Ren lowered his face until his eyes were level with yours. Though every fiber of your being screamed at you to look away, you met his gaze, trembling.

“You know as well as I do that the Old Republic, the Jedi, were weak. Fools,” he spat. “They were afraid to do what was truly necessary to meet their goals. The First Order has no such weaknesses.”

He lowered his mouth and whispered rapidly in your ear, his breath ghosting along your skin. “Unfortunately for you, I am not a Jedi, and this will hurt quite a bit. I only wish that I could remove that gag and hear every shriek that comes out of that pretty little mouth without risking you biting off your own tongue.” He clucked his tongue softly as he stood up. “What a shame.”

He replaced the syringe on the tray and selected a small pair of medical scissors, then began to methodically cut through the fabric of your sleeve. "I would apologize for the outfit," he said sardonically, "but I rather suspect that you have much bigger things to be worrying about at the moment."

Once your sleeve was split all the way to your elbow, Ren set the scissors down and set his leather-clad fingers to the task of spreading the halved fabric of your sleeve to fully reveal your bare skin. He was agonizingly gentle, as though trying to spread the petals of a struggling flower and help it bloom.

His work complete, his eyes and his fingers roved over your exposed arm, relishing your vulnerability. If you weren't paralyzed with fear, you would have squirmed, thrashed, done anything to flee his scrutiny.

Force, please, you thought desperately, don't let him see them. Please, anything but that. I'll give anything. Let him do what he wishes to me as long as they go unnoticed. Please.

As though sensing your frantic pleas, Ren's eyes locked onto your wrist, onto the unnaturally straight cuts and scars criss crossing your skin.

"What is this?" he said softly.

Shit.

It was the last straw. The spell of fear holding you in place broke. You twisted your arm as far as you could in the restraints, trying to hide what it was far too late to conceal. Instantly his hand shot out and pinned your wrist to the table as you writhed in his grasp.

"You know as well as I do that you cannot take back what has been revealed. The mynock is out of the bag, little one. Are you going to lie still, and let me finish what your own foolish actions have started? Or am I going to have to make you?"

Realizing it was of no use, that you were absolutely, utterly powerless, you stopped thrashing. Tears glistened on your cheeks. Your breath hitched as choked sobs pushed their way past your gag. You fought for every inhale and exhale, lungs crushed under the weight of your own rising panic.

But bewilderingly, inexorably, you were still.

"Good girl," he breathed.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he lifted his hand from your wrist. When you remained motionless, even without his grip holding you to the table, his hands moved to your elbow and, abandoning those damn scissors, he began to finish what he had started.

He tore first one sleeve, then the other, and made short work of everything else until you were laid bare before him. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

Kylo Ren's eyes roved over you, taking in every mark, every scar, every bruise on your bare skin. You wanted to fight it so badly, wanted twist yourself away from his agonizing scrutiny, but all you could do was shut your eyes and pray for it to be over. His burning gaze held you immobile like the galaxy's most powerful vice.

"I know what marks I've left on this body, little one," he said, voice unbearably tender. "I know what scars one gets from doing what we do. But this-" his fingers brushed your wrists, your thighs, your torso, tracing the bar code that you had marked yourself with in so many places- "this is not that." His voice, though still intolerably gentle, was taut, hinting at the tightly leashed rage that you could feel bubbling just below his deceptively calm exterior.

For so long, you had been terrified that someone would find out, would ask an unavoidable question, would see something they shouldn't have because you slipped up.

You hadn't expected it to be him.

What the hell was he going to do to you?

After another excruciating moment of consideration, he reached up and unbuckled the gag, carefully sliding it out from between your teeth and setting it on the tray beside the scissors and abandoned syringe. You worked your jaw, gratefully bringing a bit of relief to your sore muscles and parched mouth. You were so tired. So, so tired, too physically and psychologically exhausted to care what happened to you anymore. You had already been on this table for an eternity too long. Let him get what he wanted from you and finally, at long last, leave you for dead.

"What is it?" he asked evenly. "Control? Punishment? Or something else?"

Your eyes snapped open, wide with fear and shock, only to find your gaze locked together with his.

"What?" The word came out of your mouth in a grating, dry rasp.

"You heard me," he said. "Why do you do it?"

How dare he. How dare he. The absolute nerve he had, to strap you to a table you and torture you endlessly, and then find out about this and pretend that he cared.

"Fuck off," you said.

"That's no answer."

"You don't even care." You glanced away, eyes flooded with silent tears that you were too embarrassed about to let him see. "No one does."

You flinched as you felt a leather glove hand touch you, then realized that he was caressing your face. Stroking your hair. Comforting you, exactly where you needed it. Holding you like your mother did, so long ago. Touching you the way you had been starving for for so long.

How could he possibly know what you needed so desperately, much less be doing it of his own accord? What happened to him?

You finally mustered up the courage to look back at him, despite the blinding tears and your fear of what you might see. When you finally wrenched your gaze up to meet his, you were shocked by what you saw.

Pity. Concern. Genuine worry. Anger, not at you, but at the people who watched you spiral so far down and did nothing.

All this he told you with his eyes alone.

How was this possible? Stars' sake, he was your enemy. He hated you. So why was he looking at you like he was trying to offer you a lifeline when he was supposed to want you dead?

"Why are you doing this to me?" you whispered.

"Answer me," he said quietly, "And I'll stop."

You took a rattling breath in, and shut your eyes.

You had no choice.

"It's everything," you said softly. "The control. The punishment. All of it." You opened your eyes again and looked back at him as a sob built in your throat. "It keeps me alive, even though I don't deserve to be."

---

"It keeps me alive, even though I don't deserve to be."

The words hit Kylo like a dagger to the heart.

So that was why you had never acted on the desires he sensed in you, why you wanted to join him so badly but rejected his offers at every turn. That was why, when he offered you his hand, his teaching, his service, a position by his side, you almost took it before you wrenched yourself away. The Resistance never understood you, saw you as nothing more than a tool for a job. And you didn't think you deserved the what he could provide.

The sobs he had watched you struggle against for so long finally spilled past your lips in a tidal wave. He shushed you as one would a frightened animal, brushed away your tears with his thumb, and quickly undid the restraints at your ankles and wrist. He slid his arms under you and lifted you as easily as though you were a child, one arm under your legs to support your weight, the other pressing your head to his chest as you sobbed, the Force supporting you where he couldn't.

"Easy now," he said, voice low and soothing. "Easy, easy, easy- there we go, come on, come on, there's a good girl. I've got you. I've got you. You're safe now. You're safe. Good girl, come with me. Come with me, now."

He kept up the constant stream of reassurances as he carried you to his bed, holding you with one arm and the Force as he pulled back the covers with the other before setting you in the bed. He kicked off his boots and slid in beside you, pulling you close to his chest, telling you what you had needed to hear for so long.

You were going to be okay, he told you. He promised. Vowed to keep you by his side and give you everything he had to offer, fulfill your every need.

He'd give you the galaxy, if you asked for it. But all you needed was him.

The two of you stayed there until your sobs subsided, his hand absently stroking your hair, your tears soaking his shirt. Neither of you said anything, but you both knew.

You were finally where you belonged. And you were here to stay.

[bastardsunlight]

WIP snippet meme thing tagged by @avi17

Tagging @daughterofnero and @heamatic

Post a snippet of a thing you're working on

“Earthrealm’s champion is a mighty warrior,” Raiden observes, wrapping a cloth bandage around Shang Tsung’s right hand and wrist with firm care. His glowing eyes are downcast, watching his work, his mind a million miles away. The sorcerer recognizes the distance and reaches out with his as-yet unwrapped hand to tilt the thunderer’s chin upward so their eyes meet, bright and dark. There is still that old thrill of excitement, meeting those strange eyes and Tsung is surprised by his own enthusiasm. This is why I keep him around, he tells himself, as if in a last-ditch effort to maintain control over his emotions. Raiden, as no one else in his life, has been able to step effortlessly past the walls the sorcerer has built to protect himself—his mind and heart, so damaged and broken from a young life in the gutters of an unforgiving city—to lay hands upon the deepest parts of him. He fears this, loathes it, in a way, because it symbolizes his ultimate weakness, the largest gap in his otherwise impenetrable armor. Yet he, ever at war with himself, loves it, deeply and completely, craving the nakedness such intimacy brings.

[[MORE]]

“I am also a mighty warrior, old friend,” Shang Tsung reminds Raiden, pressing his lips to the corner of the former deity’s mouth. Raiden does not smile and the gesture is, for once, unable to pull him back from his distraction. The sorcerer begins to wonder if the man has not lived these moments before.  They have spoken little of Raiden’s life before it became entangled with that of his chosen champion and for many years, that had been just fine, a mystery which would reveal itself or which Shang Tsung would unwrap with great care and gentleness, as he had unwrapped the man’s habit on that fateful night just after he had secured Earthrealm’s safety for ten generations. He of insatiable greed cannot, naturally, hold back that curiosity for eternity and soon he will enquire after it. For now, he supposes, speculation will do.

“And you are fighting on behalf of your Emperor,” says Raiden sourly, knowing what has to happen, what must be done in order for time to continue its course. He has had many conversations with Lord Liu Kang on this exact subject and even a few with Shang Tsung, who, upon meeting Shao Kahn, took an immediate interest, if not an outright liking to him. “His tactics,” the sorcerer had declared, “are far too brutal for someone so old; one might have learned subtlety by now.” But the subtlety had come from somewhere behind the throne—if Quan-Chi’s brand of mad soul sorcery could be called subtle. In other timelines, Raiden reminds himself, he is insidious; now he is a raving zealot with my father’s head whispering blasphemies to him. But he is still dangerous. By winning the Kahn’s favor in the first tournament, Shang Tsung had ousted Quan-Chi as Shao Kahn’s favorite sorcerer; the great Emperor had even granted Tsung the use of Quan-Chi’s flesh pits, an offer Shang Tsung had graciously accepted out of pure, human curiosity.

It is said—in whispers, mind; no one would speak such a thing aloud—that the Kahn’s lovely daughter, Mileena, had been created here, that she is not his flesh and blood, but a copy of the girl Sindel had borne to Jerrod of Edenia. Shang Tsung’s informants had soon given him even more detail about her creation and the reason behind it. “Evidently,” he had told his divine consort one evening as the breeze became chilly off that weird ocean and they lay together under furs, “that mad fool, Quan-Chi, claimed he had the power of something called an Elder God—that he could reverse death. Sindel’s little Kitana was too far gone, they said, and her mind was in shambles. Clever Quan-Chi used his creation, Mileena, to save the Empress and make himself valuable to the great Kahn. How is that for family melodrama?” The power of the Kahn had been such that no one questioned Mileena’s place at his side and her mother, the queen Sindel, had regrettably gone quite mad and so only wanted a daughter to love and dote upon.

“Yes I am, pet, at your suggestion—or have you forgotten?” Shang Tsung’s grip has not relinquished its hold on Raiden’s chin, but he does not pull away.

“No,” he says quietly, “I have not.” Some things, certain events, must happen in order to keep the sands of time from shifting out of control, Raiden reminds himself. Liu Kang had told him that this is one of those events. The new keeper of time, thankfully, is not so cryptic as Raiden’s own, past self—or doomed future self, as time rolls. On the other hand, he is also not dying.

“Do you regret advising me this way?” Shang Tsung’s hand has slid its way around the back of Raiden’s neck under his hair, which is secured with a simple, but pretty hairpin of gold. The sorcerer’s forehead presses forward and their knees touch as he leans into his lover, drawing strength from their proximity. “It is my right to challenge him, as former champion, and as my island sits between all realms, I can ally myself with whomever I choose, can I not?”

“You can,” breathes Raiden, “and his choice of you as his ally and favored sorcerer has angered Quan-Chi, who now seeks to upset the empire of Outworld.”

Shang Tsung does not speak. This is more than Raiden has ever said about his own machinations. The sorcerer is under no impression that his companion is a true fool or simpleton in any way, but his sincerity often gives that impression, so hearing this side of things thrills him. He would take Raiden right here if his match was not coming up shortly. He may still do so; there can be time for them… there is always time for him.

“Even now, in his fury at the affront to him and therefore to his mad, dark god, he is opening a rift between Outworld and…. Elsewhere.” Raiden’s eyes close and he sighs deeply.

“So his dark god… does exist?” Only now does Shang Tsung interpose his voice, so curious is he about the goings-on of the divine aspects of a world which has known few gods. Raiden sighs, shoulders sagging. He signals for his champion’s other hand and it drops gently and obediently from the back of his neck to his lap. Shang Tsung flexes the other one, testing its strength carefully, drawing away from Raiden to sit up straight and regard him intently.

“Yes,” Raiden says eventually, “he is—a remnant of a… dead timeline.”

Shang Tsung feels his heart beat a little more quickly then. Timelines and worlds apart from his own—what riches and knowledge such a thing must hold. But dead? How can a timeline die? How can a world die? Aside from merging with another, a realm can never cease to exist, can it? He makes a mental note to check his library for any old texts which might hint at such a thing, though he is fairly certain if he possessed such a tome, he would remember it.

“And this rift?”

“Could be disastrous for Outworld, but its opening will ensure the Shokan people never ally with Shao Kahn, forcing him to rely upon the Tarkatan tribes as his foot soldiers. They are mighty and many, but…”

The lack of prince Goro in the next tournament ensures long life for Kung Lao, the soft-spoken, humble choice of Lord Liu Kang. A Tarkatan champion might be a worthy foe, but they, at least, only have two arms apiece. This shifts the sands of time, but not beyond Lord Liu Kang’s ken and control. Shang Tsung still fights for Outworld and Kung Lao still faces him. “And if the Tarkatan are allied to the throne of Outworld, the Osh-Tekk will not be; that is an old feud, and a bloody one.”

“So, my sweet, gentle emissary has a few schemes in him, does he?” Shang Tsung’s voice is a purr as Raiden passively finishes wrapping his hand and wrist.  

“A few,” Raiden agrees.

“You are destabilizing an entire realm, o’ exquisite one,” continues the sorcerer. “I admire your ruthlessness.”

Raiden looks up and their eyes meet. Shang Tsung is hungry, his gaze roaming over the thunderer as if the man were utterly naked before him. Raiden knows Kung Lao will win—he must, for the sake of the timeline—and knows he will spare Shang Tsung which, in another life, embitters him and sends him limping foolishly back to a pitiless ruler who punishes his failure. This, Raiden knows, is something Quan-Chi would love to see, though the Netherrealm sorcerer’s mind is currently elsewhere. Shang Tsung is not the only one with informants. This time, however, Shang Tsung will not return to Shao Kahn, as his servitude is a ruse. Still, Raiden worries…

That worry presently evaporates as Shang Tsung’s oh-so-clever hands find his thighs beneath the layers of cloth which conceal them and push them gently apart. He is seated on an ornate bench of dark, carved wood, inlaid with mother-of-pearl and shaped with sensual elegance. It is an ideal place for someone as beautiful as Raiden to be seated—or so Shang Tsung opines. The cushion beneath him is comfortable, the best there is, and it supports him pleasantly as his former student drops to his knees between great, powerful thighs, looking up with glittering, obsidian eyes, asking only the permission of the deity-who-was.

“I would offer more,” Shang Tsung asserts with the weight of years and complete devotion dripping honey over every word, “but…” His eyes dart minutely to the door which will lead out and down to the arena for Final Kombat. His look flashes annoyance, as if the event were a mere inconvenience. Right now, it is, of course, and will be treated as such.

Raiden can feel his pulse rising, core beating hard in his broad chest, and a gentle flush of red-gold crossing fine-boned features. A distant rumble of thunder from an unexpected storm whispers of deep, aching desire, but the sorcerer awaits Raiden’s express permission. Coercion will simply not do.

[gandr]

Five, err, Four Favorite Passages

Tagged by @gunbun !

I don’t have a whole lot to share yet, but what I do have, I’m very proud of so far, so I hope you enjoy it. I will be linking the stories after each passage when applicable (some of these will be WIPs). Thank you to people like gunbun, @autumnslance and everyone else who made me feel welcomed, it really means a lot.

Without further ado, here we go. (Light 5.0 spoilers)

1. My Heartfelt Feelings

“Ah, how sweet young love is.”

The Scion’s Rogue had begun his teasing even before any feelings were recognized or conveyed. Of course, such antics were either rebutted or outright ignored. Thancred was imagining things, of course there was a fondness there. Oda was an ally, a friend. Someone capable and reliable, if not on the side of unpredictable and wild under certain conditions. She was intelligent, kind and gentle in equal measure. Her casual mannerisms were a nice contrast to her own taciturn personality.

So then why, when she should be sleeping, was she silently watching her training under the Ala Mhigan moonlight?

She had witnessed her prowess first hand during her encounter with the primal Titan, from a safe distance and at the tail end of the encounter. But this….

It was so up close, more personal.

Each brutal THUD that rang out resounded off the stone walls surrounding the barracks as her lance dealt out punishment to the training dummy, over and over. The way she leapt back, landing nimbly and expertly, her tail stiff to keep her balanced. Her powerful, lean shoulder muscles flexing before she flung herself forward to unleash another string of precise, brutal strikes. Enthralling, entrancing, her movements were as fluid as a flowing river, as instant and devastating as a lightning strike.

“Y’shtola?”

Her heart jumped in her chest, but she was caught. Had she known the whole time?

“Ah, pray forgive me for spying on you, Oda.” Her calm tone betrayed her flustered state, but the way the beads of sweat rolled down her collarbones, disappearing into her cleavage wasn’t helping, or how her toned abs glistened in the light from the torches lighting the training area. Or so she gathered; Aethereal sight did lack for some more subtle detail.

“Pay it no mind.” The Dragoon smiled, that sweet, welcoming smile.

2. Unposted WIP (Oda’s backstory)

“Gods, they had a child.”

He quickly hissed an order at his men to cover and get the bodies of the victims out of the area; there was no need for the child to see them.

Indeed, within the ransacked remains of the family’s carriage, a small child curled up in the corner, her ears flattened against her head, holding her tail against her chest when Boernhelm shined a light inside. She looked at him with wide, frightened eyes, and he was momentarily surprised when he noticed that they were two different colors. The pair remained motionless, saying nothing. The girl, tense and rightfully terrified, and the man trying to appear as non threatening as he could; no use traumatizing the poor child any further.

“Hey, it’s okay, we won’t hurt you.” His tone changed from the stern, sometimes harsh tone he normally spoke with to a softer, gentler tone. If his men could hear him, they would likely think he was a completely different person. In all honesty, seeing this small girl hiding in a corner, likely thinking these were going to be her last moments, having likely heard her parents being mercilessly slaughtered….

“Come on, it’s okay. The bad men are gone, we’re going to help you,” he continued to patiently wait, trying to earn even a shred of trust from her. She couldn’t have been older than four, and already forced to witness how evil man could be, “Come on now.”

After what felt like an eternity, she shuffled towards him, seemingly trusting him enough to move from her hiding spot.

“I’m heading back to HQ. Secure the area and report back,” Beornhelm’s orders were quickly given as the girl clung to him. Even during the walk, she did not let go, or move her face from its spot buried in his chest.

Even after investigating into the identity of her parents, there was no one who came forward to take her in, and she had forgotten what her name was; some figured it was induced by the trauma she endured. Either way, Beornhelm had no choice but to adopt the child, whom he named Oda, into his home.

3. Another WIP (Post Vault)

With each strike, a sharp pain shot up her arm. Each time her fist slammed into the cold, stone wall outside of Camp Dragonhead, one could swear that cracks started to appear. The guards noticed her, of course, but none had the courage to approach her to ask her to stop, or even look in her direction for longer than a few seconds. They weren’t necessarily afraid of her, but none of them knew what to say to her. How do you console someone who’s grieving the loss of a dearest friend?

Each time his face appeared in her mind, another impact.

Each time she remembered his voice calling out to her in jubilation each time she walked through the door from the cold highlands, each time she remembered his genuine admiration when he spoke to her, his kind heart, his valiant nature….

Oda didn’t notice at first just how much blood was dripping into the snow from her now injured hand; knuckles scraped and cut open from repeatedly punching a frozen stone wall. It wasn’t the cold that made everything feel so numb….

No.

In all honesty the Warrior of Light had been naught but a walking shell for the past several days. It was hard enough to look Count Fortemps in the eye and confirm that yes, his son died protecting her. The only thing she really could say with any certainty, any clarity was that she was going to make the Archbishop and his cronies pay for what they did. Not just for perpetuating a war based on lies, but for ripping Haurchefant from her.

4. Reunited

“Y’shtola, you still love me, right?” She crossed her arms, looking away, “When you first saw me, and when you thought I was one of those things….even though I know it's because of the aether from the two slain Lightwardens….”

It still hurt.

It didn’t help that she seemed to be acting slightly differently around her. It had been three years in the First, in comparison to no more than a few weeks at best in the Source. That was a long, long time to wait on someone.

And she had been abandoned before.

“You fool. Do you even need to ask such a thing?”

“Please, yes or no.”

Instead of a direct response, Y’shtola tapped her chin with her knuckles, “...You know, shortly after I had arrived here, I was attending to my research, so that I might find a way to help the people of the First and return home to a certain Miqo’te Dragoon, when out of nowhere I felt as if I had been kissed, by a familiar set of lips. Warm and soft, with no shortage of affection.” She could feel that?

“Y-You did?”

“Why yes, I did. What, did you think you could wake the sleeping beauty with a kiss?” She chuckled, but where under different circumstances Oda would have responded in turn with her own jabs, instead her voice cracked as she spoke, “I didn’t know what else to do! You and everyone else just collapsed right in front of me, and the only thing that came to mind was the Vault! Y’shtola, I-”

As soon as she realized her mistake, she strode over and pulled the woman into a tight hug, “I’m sorry. That was rather cruel of me to say when you’re clearly upset.” How could she be so callous as to not consider Oda’s lingering trauma from the ordeals in Ishgard?

But, she still had to answer her question, didn’t she?

Her cheek was so warm in her palm as she caressed her face, foreheads resting together, using her thumb to wipe away any freshly shed tears. No, this wouldn’t do for a reunion three years coming. Their lips met softly, sweetly in a gentle kiss. And then another, and another, the both of them spurred on by the other.

She was almost embarrassed by how quickly she was losing her composure, but after three long summers of being literal worlds apart, she found it increasingly difficult to hold herself back, especially in these moments of reprieve that the two were able to share by themselves. 

[geometricalien]

oh dear i'm super duper late but I have a lot of questions about your wips!! I wanna know more about sick Akashi, nekoma pirate crew, BoKuroo/BokuAka midsommer, Pining + Jacket, The truth burns and destroys, feeling good, Punk Noya, Strawberry Blonde, sunspot and the merman au!!! Thanks babe <333

Hi Vee!!! This is it, I spent wayyyyy too long on this, I think my finger is cramping from typing. But thank you for asking, I love sharing my ideas, sorry if it’s incorherent.

This is super long so it’s under the cut, saving people room

Sick Akashi 

So, it’s based off of a line prompt “I’d like it if you’d stay” and as the title suggests, 3rd year Akashi gets sick, sorry Vee it’s not fatal, Furihata comes to Rakuzan to check on his friend after he doesn’t answer his phone. The entire premise is Akashi works himself sick with his various responsibilities he takes on as “perfectionist who can’t show any cracks at all”. I don’t want Bokushi Akashi showing up so it’s minus the mental break elements. (also technically in canon terms it's after they have merged so yeah) I feel like they deserve a cute little “nurse” the other from a sickness ficlet. And… maybe… sick Akashi confesses…….. It’s almost a writing challenge for me because Akashi has a more polite sophisticated way of thinking and speaking, so cough yep

The rest are Haikyuu aus so buckle in

NEKOMA PIRATE CREW 

Admittedly this is more loose, less of a solid idea. It’s Yaku centric, and how he went from a merchant from his grandfather’s company searching for lost merchandise and became the first mate who keeps track of the ship's finances and keeps their captain Kuroo on track. Other things of note, he meets Kuroo first as a pirate on another ship who stole his merchandise, Kenma is a sea witch (is that science or magic? That's always the question), and about halfway through the adventure they get Lev on board as a new member. So yeah! Kinda a fetch quest but on of my favorite fanfics is legitimately a fetch quest so it's okay fjdkaljf

BoKuroo/BokuAka Midsommer

This is based off of a fanart by desdelasombra my friend Shayla showed it to me and we threw this idea around together, we really don’t want to write it but it's also spectacular. So it's the movie Midsommar, right? Bokuto is a “gatherer” bringing his friends to come join in his village’s rituals. But we didn’t want anyone to die (except for Kenma sorry he’s dead as the substitute for the main character’s sister), so a grieving Kuroo comes with his boyfriend Bokuto, joined by their friends the smart studious and jaded Oikawa and bright bubbly Hinata. Obviously the three react badly to the first ritual and Bokuto doesn’t understand because for him it’s always been a joyful experience and he wanted to share it with his friends. A Lot of things happen, but most important is Akaashi and Kuroo dancing under the may pole together. BokuAka was in the past when Bokuto was home so part of this is them coming together as poly and escaping the final scene of the movie. Again this is very painful but that art is beautiful and the world is better for it being created

Pining + Jacket (KuroLev)

Again this is a line prompt about lending a jacket because it’s cold and it had so much potential for pining and who is the most pining bastard that I know? LEV and Shayla told me about KuroLev and somehow this happened. It’s currently going to be a sequence of drabbles of Lev pining after Kuroo, what else could you ask for? Uh? Lev confessing to Kuroo and them going out??? Sorry I can’t hear you over the exquisite angst and pain of one sided love that I want to explore

The truth burns and destroys

GOOD CHOICE, I began this on saturday night and it has earned a very special place in my heart. Sometimes I fear that my writing is like a lazy pool, sure it's nice and easy and smooth but there isn’t an intensity or raw emotions, BUT THIS this accomplishes what I want. And I’m really glad, its metaphor and imagery heavy but it really captures their emotions and thoughts without it sounding like I’m a 7th grader writing my first fanfiction glances to my abandoned wips from that time. Okay, Vee, I am a glutton for punishment and angst and I choose to pursue cheating fics. But specifically where and how they build the relationship up again after finding out. So, I was reading a KageHina cheating fic and how the character’s reacted felt off somehow so at midnight I wrote this snippet to fullfill my craving, you know what they say the best fanfiction is self indulgence. Here is a short excerpt,

He wants to brush this aside and continue their lives. He wants to wake up next to Tobio and still be seen the same way. He doesn't want anything to change. 

Tobio is his favorite book. He has read it time and time again. Highlighting, underlining, cherishing. So Shouyou is able to read the silent begging in his eyes. The right clenched fist. 

"Shouyou," a deafening pause "What is this?"

Please lie to me.

…

It stretches on. The eternity of silence. They sit together holding on to the last hope they have. Shouyou memorizes those beautiful hands, each crease and bump. Hands that helped shape him become who he is and that reached out unwaveringly. 

Tobio sighs a world ending sigh. 

Shouyou was the one who created their world, it's only fitting that Tobio is the one who destroys it.

In summary I like angst, I want to feel something 

Feeling good

AAA, okay uh, This is a BokuAka pop star au. Akaashi sings “feeling good” at a big charity event hosted by Akashi (... yes I am AkaFuri trash and I can and will sneak them in anything and everything I write) while he is singing he walks down a big staircase remembering moments in his relationship with Bokuto, how much they have grown and how much he loves him. I love the concept! But I tried to write smut in the beginning of it and OOF THATS A NO. I actually have the majority of it written but I do want to add more emotions and thoughts (the lazy pool writing) and make it Ao3 friendly because I have all of the lyrics for feeling good in it as “post signs” for what he sings and that’s against their rules. 1 major aspect of this fic is it's all leading up to the point where Akaashi says “I love you” for the first time to Bokuto after finishing the song, on stage, in front of everyone and on every screen broadcasting it.

Punk Noya

I have a love for feral boys, especially feral alternative punk boys (and girls and humans) so this whole idea is that Noya goes to another school for high school, embraces more punk aethsetics, and on the first day of the preliminary tournaments he hears the rumors about a high schooler in a gang, getting up to nasty things, and he decides to confront them. He finds Asahi, rants him out and leaves. The plot then follows canon, at the winter tournament Karasuno faces Dateko, Karasuno loses even more badly because Noya isn’t there. Asahi quits volleyball, BUT Asahi and Noya run into each other at the store and talk leading to friendship which leads to romance. Idk man, I want more punk haikyuu characters, it gives me life. Alt Yamaguchi is my favorite but onwards we go

Strawberry Blonde

!!!! So this is Mitski’s song and to give a vague idea this is a pining Kageyama fic where he tries to pull away from Hinata and that back fires. (I  do have more to say but I’ve been typing this for over an hour and I’m getting really tired fjkdaljl) There is one paragraph that I love, so here it is! Kageyama and Hinata are practicing by themselves outside of school and they are playing pepper (its a volleyball warm up practice routine where you partner up with someone pass, set, and spike the ball to each other sesquentially) Hinata goes to spike the ball and for a moment Kageyama sees it, 

They are at nationals and they made it to finals. The crowds are screaming, but everything except the court is thrown into shadows. They are at match point of the final set. Everything is at peak intensity and at the center is him. Flying in the air. Orange hair waving with the momentum. His loud take off echoing in the gym. Arm poised for the kill. Eyes sparking with ferocity and passion as he aims. And finally, tipping the world over is the loud slap of his hand, sending the ball to the far side of the court-

This was actually going to be finished and posted in time for Haikyuu season 4 coming out and the manga wrapping up.... clearly I failed my goal fjdaklfj

Sunspot

You don’t know this about me but I love royalty aus, and this is BokuAka Prince Akaashi and Knight Bokuto. This was a short snippet of this grand idea I have for them where they run away from Akaashi’s inherited destiny together. It has potential to be really wide and expansive with the differnet teams as different kingdoms (AGAIN ILLUSION OF CHOICE, that fic really influences me doesn’t it fjdskalj) But this was a short glance at Akaashi taking a break from studying and watching Bokuto and the other knights practice duel. The title comes from the fact that Bokuto is a sunspot in Akaashi’s life, and his day is substantially better basking in his golden shining light.

Merman au

I’m so glad you asked about this and its technically the one I’ve written the most for since it's actually the one I posted on my haikyuu writing side blog. But brief recap, long term it’s a BokuAka little mermaid au but instead of a sea witch it’s an underwater deity who makes “wishes” (it's a deal) with every royal who is born. And Akaashi has a lot of siblings: Ushijima, Oikawa, Suga, Terushima, and Hinata, and its in that order. So I have information on every sibling’s deal, what they wish for, what they give for it, what happens to them in the future, romantically and otherwise. But, this is the one I haven’t updated in over a year, I am working on it!! I’m currently on Koushi’s (suga’s) wish/deal, its just taking forever. If you want to learn more about it I’ll link it in parts  1  2  3  4

BUT I will work on Suga’s part and then Terushima’s and then to the meat of the idea with Akaashi. 

If you have made it this far, thanks, you are cool as always. My brain and fingers is ded.