#otp: rewrite this story

[miitgaanar]

Whumptober prompt!

No. 21: BODY HORROR

Body Horror | Tattoo Gun | Spirit Possession | “Let the bedsheet soak up the tears.” (Apparat feat. Soap & Skin, Goodbye)

Okay. So. Hear me out. This is an incredibly self-indulgent crossover/AU. I started writing it back in December of last year, and slowly chopped away at it. When I saw that there was a Whumptober prompt that (loosely?) applied, I forced myself to get to the finish line.

And so this was borne of my friends and I saying "Surely Lemuel would allow a sadistic, hedonistic demon to share his body if it meant he got all of the power that came with it?"

Anyway. You can read this if you want. But. Yeah. <3

***************

There was a shift in the air as Addilyn approached him.  She had no talent for pymary, no sense for the khert and its delicate intricacies—and yet the air felt heavier here, thicker in a way she could not explain.  It was as if the khert had shrunk away from this place, unwilling to be tainted by the slaughter that had occurred.  Blood and viscera had turned the earth to mud, her every step sounding with a revolting squelch as her boots sunk into the fetid sludge.  

And in the middle of it all stood Lemuel Adelier, drenched in gore and bits of flesh, a grotesque grin splitting his features.

A laugh then pierced the quiet, the sound grating and manic, and Addilyn froze.  It was not at all the charming chuckle she’d become so familiar with.  Even when dancing on the edge of madness, she’d never heard Lemuel emit such a shrill cacophony.

“Oh, what a day,” he said, the laughter tapering off into an almost euphoric moan.  He sounded wrong; that delightful tenor dipping into a sinister baritone.  Had she not known any better, she would have sworn that an entirely different man stood before her—but his golden hair shone bright in the light of the setting sun, Ataret and Kossaul in hand and streaked with Gefendur blood.

And yet her blood turned to ice in her veins as she watched him, her skin prickling with unease.

“Captain,” she tried, her voice low, hardly even a croak as her too dry throat forced the simple word from her lips.

Almost lazily, Lemuel turned to face her, a strange expression crossing his blood spattered face.  It was akin to irritation, but with the slightest undercurrent of curiosity.

Her confusion only mounted as he stared at her, unrecognizing.

“If you’ve come to grovel, your head’s a bit high for my liking,” he said, the words cold and lacking any playful bite.

“Sir,” she tried again, her heart stuttering out a staccato rhythm as a thin trickle of fear began to slither its way down her spine.  Wrong.  Wrong, wrong, wrong.  “We’re regrouping to the north.  We need to head out if we’re going to link up with the battalion.”

He stared at her for a beat longer, his annoyance seeming to momentarily morph into something closer to anger, but it quickly vanished, and at last there was a flash of recognition in his eyes.

“Ah,” he said simply, that monstrous grin returning, and Addilyn had the brief thought that she rather preferred his ire.  “The Lioness.  And here I thought I’d never have the pleasure of a formal introduction.”

A nervous laugh was all she could muster, her body going rigid with the inexplicable urge to flee.  “Very funny, sir.  Never heard that one before.”

“You haunt his every thought,” Lemuel continued, stalking forward with the preternatural grace of a predator on the hunt.  “It was fairly fucking irritating that he worked so hard to keep me at bay where you were concerned.  You and his doe-eyed brat.”

The sun hung low in the sky, but still painted the area in a bright, crimson glow.  The shadows grew long and deep and dark as dusk loomed, and so Addilyn had not questioned the shadows that seemed to fall over Lemuel’s features.

But as he drew closer, she realized it was neither shadows nor streaks of quickly drying blood that coated his face, but solid black markings.  They lined his jaw, symmetrical in their placement, starting from the corners of his eyes and ending at his chin.  A single slash of ebony crossed the center of his nose, while a strange symbol sat painted upon his forehead.

It left her speechless, and she fought the urge to step back as he closed in.

“But it looks like he didn’t account for how hard it would be to shove me back in my cage once he deigned to set me loose,” he drawled, his voice entirely unfamiliar.  At this proximity, she realized that his eyes glowed an insidious shade of red, their warm, golden hue entirely absent.  “Such is the usual gambit borne of human desperation.”

Addilyn moved to draw her blade, muscle memory taking hold as alarm bells rang out loudly in her mind.

WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG

The sword was scarcely out of its scabbard when he moved, nearly too fast for her eyes to register.  One moment her blade was in hand, the next a loud clang resounded through the piercing silence, a sharp pain shooting up her arm as the weapon was knocked free of her grip.  It fell to the earth with a dull splat a few feet from where she stood, the heavy steel sinking slightly into the putrid mixture of mud and viscous fluid.

And all the while, she stared up at Lemuel in horror.  She knew how he fought down to her very bones.  There was strength behind each movement, though there was always a thoughtless precision that came with each slash and parry, drilled into him from decades spent on training grounds and battlefields.

But there had been no finesse in how he had disarmed her, no elegant violence, merely raw power.

A horrifying realization dawned, and it left her near paralyzed with utter terror.

“What are you?” she demanded, a pathetic tremor undercutting her words.

The creature wearing Lemuel’s face grinned lasciviously and raised Ataret to her throat.  Just beneath each eye, a second pair of smaller, crimson colored irises stared back at her.  “A question your dear captain probably should have asked, Lioness.”

Not him.  Panic gripped at her lungs tight enough to burn.  Not him, not him, not him.

Addilyn didn’t think, couldn’t allow herself to think.  She ducked back and out of reach of the blade’s tip, knocking the scarlet stained steel away with her armored forearm.  She turned to bolt, unsure of where to go, only that she had to get away.  Away from this thing that had claimed Lemuel’s visage as its own.

But it hardly mattered, a deranged cackle splitting the air as the creature reached for her.  Her head jerked back as she felt its fingers bury themselves in her hair, the clawed tips of its gauntlets digging painfully into the flesh of her scalp.

“Now, now,” it chided, tugging her back toward it.  She latched onto its wrist, desperate to wrest herself from its grasp—but its hold remained solid, immovable.  Even without Lemuel’s plate armor in the way, she doubted her feeble attempts would have amounted to much.  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.  I haven’t dismissed you yet, Private.”

“Where is he?” she ground out, her jaw clenched to the point of aching.  Tears welled in her eyes from the pain along her scalp, blurring her vision.  “What have you done to him, nuofhen?”

“Ever the loyal little soldier,” it crooned, its free hand coming up to grip at her chin.  “More sacrificial lamb than fierce lioness.”

Belatedly, Addilyn realized it no longer wielded Lemuel’s blades.  It had likely discarded them when she tried to run.  In a stroke of hysteria induced insanity, all she could think about was how furious Lemuel would be to see his prized swords festering in a pool of blood and entrails.  

“Answer me.”  Her voice continued to tremble as she glared at it, warm rivulets of blood beginning to soak into her hair where the gauntlets had cut through skin.  Nausea ate away at her gut as she met its gaze.  She had never seen such gleeful malice etched into Lemuel’s face before.

“He lurks,” the creature said, the claws at her chin digging into the sensitive flesh as it angled her face upwards.  “He’s been quiet since the culling began.  Willing to sit back and let me have my fun.”  It chuckled darkly, the sound an ugly and repulsive thing.  “Oh, the sins etched upon his soul, Little Lamb.  So ready to do whatever is necessary, the consequences be damned.”

It pulled her closer, its nose nearly brushing her own.  It smelled of death, of sickly sweet rot and the metallic tang of blood.  There was no lingering scent of vliegeng musk, no heady aroma of sweat and hodo.  It was as if the creature had snuffed out Lemuel entirely, like a flame smothered beneath a woolen quilt.

“Though every human has a line they won't cross.  No matter their resolve.”  The creature licked its lips, and Addilyn’s stomach turned, the urge to rip the flesh from its face all consuming.  Anything to tear away the depravity etched into Lemuel’s features.  “Why don't we find his?”

A fresh agony burst to life at her scalp, ripping a strangled cry from her lips as the creature forced her to her knees.  The panic that had curdled within her veins melted into white hot fury as thick, pungent muck soaked through her trousers.  Fury at the debasement, at the shame that flooded her like a burst dam.  And all at this creature’s hand—this hellish thing that appeared to her wearing Lemuel Adelier’s face.

The throwing dagger was in her hand before she even thought to reach for it, torn from the sheath built into the armor at Lemuel’s hip.  Rage clouded her mind, her eyes unseeing as she drove the knife into its thigh, relishing in the give of flesh beneath a freshly sharpened blade.

But the creature did not cry out, nor did it so much as loosen its hold upon her.  A low chuckle instead filled the silence, fiendish and foreboding in its tenor, chilling the fire that had sparked to life within her.

“And so the claws finally come out,” it rumbled, its gaze never wavering.  Its eyes unblinking.  Addilyn’s hands began to shake.  “Brazen little wretch.”

It struck fast, swift as an adder as it sent her sprawling with a backhand that made her vision go white.  She fell to the ground, her ears ringing with the force of the blow as she struggled to push herself to her feet.  Her cheek burned like hellfire, and she realized it had likely sliced at least one sizable gash in the skin.

But then there was a sudden weight at her back, pushing her down into the putrid muck.  Pressing the air from her lungs.  Dragging a pitiful mewl from her throat.

“Bleat away, Little Lamb,” the creature said, its breath tickling the shell of her ear as it dug its knee further into her spine.  Addilyn clawed at the earth, trying not to think of what slimy bits were tangled between her fingers.  “He’s yet to stir.”

“Maafit!” Addilyn bit out, only for a ragged scream to leap from her tongue as it stabbed the throwing knife through her hand, piercing the meager armor lining her glove.

“Careful, girl,” it purred, the tips of its clawed gauntlets dancing up the length of her arm.  Addilyn could only sag where she laid, her fingers twitching helplessly as the dagger continued to cut through muscle and tendon with each minute movement.  Bile churned within the depths of her stomach and she swallowed the urge to vomit.  “You’d do well to mind who you bare those teeth to.”

The crushing pressure suddenly lifted as the creature rolled her onto her back, allowing her a brief moment to suck in a greedy breath—only for its weight to settle at her hips.  Straddling her.  Trapping her.

And then its hands were at her neck, its teeth bared in depraved delight.

Logic fled as instinct took hold.  Addilyn thrashed beneath it, her feet struggling for purchase in the slippery mud.  Her back arching in a vain attempt to escape.  Her fingers tearing at its steel bracers.  Desperate to dislodge its grip.  Desperate to get away.  Desperate to breathe.

“Writhe all you like,” it said, its voice like honey.  Deep and sultry.  Though its eyes were wild.  Manic.  Addilyn dimly thought of how frighteningly familiar the expression seemed on Lemuel’s face.  “It seems he’s left you to your fate, Lioness.”

A soft wheeze was all she could manage, her lungs spasming violently within her chest as her vision narrowed.  The hands at her neck were cold, the armor like ice against her feverish skin.  She tried to pry them away, but her fingers had grown numb, her limbs like unwieldy lead blocks as that dark void loomed, pulling her under…

“... —ilyn!”

“...dilyn!”

“Addilyn!”

Addilyn jolted upright with a gasp.  The earth seemed to tilt beneath her as she choked and gagged and heaved, only adding to the vile concoction of bodily fluids seeping into the ground.  Her throat throbbed in time with the erratic beating of her heart, the muscles beneath the abused flesh aching with an intensity that could only suggest severe bruising was yet to come.

And then there was a weight upon her back, the touch gentle and tentative—and she immediately knocked it away with a strangled yelp, moving to scramble back from it.  She had to get away.  She had to—

“Addilyn!”  Lemuel grabbed for her, keeping her in place.  “Addilyn, it’s me.  Stop it.  Stop!”

Addilyn froze, daring to meet his gaze, her hands trembling as she tried to keep herself from crying.  From begging and pleading.

But his eyes were a warm, welcoming gold, and his face devoid of the black markings that seemed to signify the presence of the creature.  The only sign it had been there at all were a pair of small scars below each eye.  Where that extra set of scarlet irises had stared back at her.

She gaped at him, shaking like the last leaf on a dying tree.  Her horror must have been clearly written upon her face, as Lemuel’s gaze softened, his brow furrowed in what she could only assume was concern.

“Are you all right?”  he asked, his voice soft, thick.  A far cry from the malicious drawl that had come from his lips before.  “Say something, da lledeol.”

Lemuel reached up toward her face, as if to brush the hair from her eyes or to wipe the blood from her cheeks, but she flinched back, a pathetic whimper leaping forth unbidden.  He froze, something like hurt flashing across his features.  Hurt, and maybe the slightest hint of guilt.

“Addilyn, I—”

“What—” she rasped, a violent coughing fit wracking her body.  It hurt to talk.  It hurt to breathe.  Each breath akin to a thousand shards of glass shoved down the length of her throat.  But still she stared at him, unwilling to rein in the fear.  The anger.  The revulsion.  “What did you do.”

His face fell, and he let his arm drop back down to his side.  She expected shame to be reflected back in his gaze.  Shame for what he had done.  For what he had almost done.

But his eyes only darkened, his mouth set in a firm line as he pushed himself to his feet.  And in that moment, she could see a shadow of the creature that had so delighted in her torment.

“What was necessary.”

[zacksfairest]

god NO ONE asked for this but i dont care im feeling insane today.

the top five songs that make me gnaw on my hands the most for Lem/Addie are:

Rewrite the Stars

Merry Go Round

Akumo no Ko (English Cover)

Elaborate Lives (Reprise)

Written in the Stars

[vayneoc]

Template by arcandoria

[greenfleeze]

Cover art for Love, Romanoff Style: Redux

When Natasha accidentally drinks a love potion in Tony's lab, she decides to go after the one man she’s always wanted: Steve Rogers.

[bllrk]

you know when you loved a ship as a kid but now you're like god that was iffy but also they had the most compelling love story of the show or even the POTENTIAL? yeah thats me with marrish

[arrowverse-next-gen]

So I sneak out to the garden to see you We keep quiet, 'cause we're dead if they knew So close your eyes Escape this town for a little while

[sailorshadzter]

in my darkest of nights, you are the light which guides me home - a rewrite.

what if harry potter was not the final horcrux? a dark story of friendship, love, war, and everything between.

a rewrite of a story i wrote in 2014. a very dark story. please read at your own risk.

chapter 2.

chapter 3.

chapter 4.

[mermaidgirl-4565]

I just think it’s funny that my smut fic is starting with a massage not because it’s sensual but because my girl is overworked and her body aches and if you want to get her in the mood she’s gotta stop feeling the body aches first.

This is not the smut fic of my teen years. That’s for sure 😂

[dontmindme2600]

I have no beef with people who are only into something for like one or two characters but have little to no interest in the rest of the story- like I’ve been there, but seeing takes from those people about a story that’s actually genuinely well made gets stressful. Even worse when they try to “fix” it through fanfiction or something because it’s gets so obvious they’ve never bothered to think about the story beyond a single character or ship, yet are somehow convinced that canon is doing it “wrong.”

[greyias]

This just recently happened to me, and let me tell you, there's a wild difference between your story inspiring someone to write their own take on an idea, someone doing a remix, and someone literally just rewriting your story to insert their own OC, change the ship, etc.

I once wrote a story exploring a similar idea/premise as one of my friends, but it wound up going in a wildly different direction than theirs (and we both loved the hell out of each version).

I've had stories inspire other writers to do their own take on an idea, I've had authors do genuine, well-intentioned and amazing remixes of my fics. And then I've had someone take something that I spent ten months writing and struggling with, and rewrite it in two days in order to insert their own character. Two out of three of those types of interactions felt positive, the third felt extremely negative to be on the receiving end of.

I think the key difference lies in what feels like intentionality and respect (or lack thereof) by the author. When someone is doing a genuine remix, they're taking an idea or story and turning it on its head to explore something new. They're also generally doing so with permission and treating the original text with respect, as that type of work is almost a conversation in itself.

When someone literally takes your story and follows all of the same plot beats, barely changes anything that happens and only swaps out certain elements -- it feels like you're being ripped off. This is not to be confused with outright plagiarism where they literally take your words, but, again, to be on the receiving end, it definitely hits in a similar feelsbadman way. At the bare minimum literally inserting your own ship/OC/what-have-you and rewriting someone's story without making any actual changes or doing any actual creative input is rude.

Which is a long way to say, I feel where you're coming from Nonny. It is an uncomfortable thing to be on the receiving end at best. And it doesn't feel like a compliment at all when someone takes something you worked on to say "well you didn't do that right let me show you how it should be done"

This is more of a question for the fanfic author community at large. Recently I had someone tell me they were writing a fic based on my fic. I was obviously flattered by it. But when their fic was posted, it was basically a re-write of exactly what I'd written. And that made me feel uncomfortable, because my story was a very specific AU. I know in fandom/fanfic anything goes and people are free to do what they want. Who am I to say 'no you can't write this'? I brushed it off and let it go. But it just got me internally asking: what are some rules of decorum around fics inspired by other fics? Can I as an author say it made me uncomfortable? If author A is writing something based on author B's work, is it expected for author A to tell author B about it? I welcome any other discussion on this topic that I didn't cover in my questions because I'm curious to see what others think! Thanks!

I'm not going to lie to you, anon, this one can be a bit of a minefield.

There's a tradition? (if that's the right word) in fandom of asking permission before writing a work inspired by someone else's fanwork.

While we don't do this with the creators of canon, we also don't share a community with the creators of canon. In fandom spaces, everyone knows everyone to a certain degree. This might be less true now that fandom has exploded in popularity in recent years, but even so.

I personally love when someone writes something inspired by my work, and I've written a few fics inspired by others too. It's part of that community sharing that I value so much in fandom.

But the minefield comes in when the original fan author feels like the "inspired by" fic is a little too close to their own.

Emotions can be fraught in online spaces where tone is hard to convey over text and there tends to be an assumption of the worst motives and interpretations rather than the best.

You're definitely well within your rights to feel uncomfortable about what that other person wrote. I'm not going to tell you that your emotions are wrong or unfounded. In fact, I'd likely feel the same way if I were in your place.

What you do about that feeling is your own decision to make. Do you just sit on it and hope it goes away? Do you reach out to that other author and say something about it? Do you just vent to a friend and get it out that way?

Folks who have had similar experiences, share what happened if you're willing. From either A or B's perspective.

[writing-for-life]

Lupē

Finally, finally I manage a Calliope/Morpheus fic (the Sandman Rarepair Fest had to come along to kick me into gear). It’s just a short vignette, but I hope I did them justice because they will always be the OTP to me. The prompt is Hurt/Comfort.

You can read on Ao3 or here. And no matter where you read, your kudos, comments, shares and reblogs are so appreciated and help writers to get their stuff discovered 🖤

Lupē (616 words) by Writing-for-Life Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Calliope/Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Calliope/Dream of the Endless, Calliope & Dream of the Endless | Morpheus Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Reconciliation, Past Relationship(s), Rare Pairings, Canon Compliant, During Canon, Canon Related, Canon Rewrite Summary:

Calliope had wept for him so many times, and she felt the tight grip of grief resurfacing. She had mourned the laughter that would never echo through these halls again, the stories of his father he would never pass on to children of his own, the promise of a future shattered. […] And she was tired of mourning, of a grief that felt like it was hers alone to bear.

Lupē

The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow upon the twisted spires of the castle. She had not returned here since that fateful day.

The Gatekeepers stood before her, eyes like onyx reflecting the aeons they had witnessed. Last time, they had been impassive, their voices cold as they denied her entry.

But tonight, something had changed: They recognised her.

"Calliope," the wyvern’s voice echoed through the mist. "You seek the Lord of Dreams."

She nodded, and her throat felt so tight she could barely swallow. "I come to speak to him."

Calliope's fingers trembled. She remembered the bitter words they had exchanged—the accusations, the tears. Later, Oneiros had been unyielding, her attempts to speak to him ignored. She was not even sure what would have happened had he acted differently then; the thought of bringing forth an apology entered her mind and was as quickly dismissed. She felt her hands ball into fists, bitterness resurfacing.

No, this is not the time.

The guardians exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable. "Why are you here, muse?" the hippogriff asked.

She hesitated. "Our son's absence binds us, even in sorrow."

There was no more talk, no further interrogation. The gates just creaked open.

Calliope stepped across the threshold, and her footsteps echoed on the stairs and the marble corridors. With every step, her heart picked up pace until it was racing so fast she could hardly catch a breath.

The door was as she remembered—unchanged, the wood dark and polished, etched with symbols whose meaning she understood and yet didn’t.

Just like him.

But that wasn’t true. He had been changed when last they met. Familiar yet different, faint echoes of what once she loved—and hated.

Calliope pushed the door open, and the air itself seemed to hold its breath. For a moment, she wondered what she had expected to find. How she had expected him to greet her. And then she knew that this was exactly it:

His back turned on her, no sign of movement, frozen in space.

She crossed the room, her breath catching in her throat, unable to speak.

She didn’t have to.

"Calliope," he whispered, still not turning. There was a rawness to his voice, even in that whisper, that caught her unaware.

She reached for him, without any hesitation, and while it surprised her, it felt right. As her hand touched his shoulder, he flinched subtly, but he didn't pull away.

When he finally turned, his eyes held galaxies, and their shared history was etched on his face—the pain, the longing—it was all there, laid bare.

And it was hard not to see Orpheus in him. Hard not to remember how he had told him stories, his voice like a melody spun from darkness and light, stardust and moonbeams, while the boy’s laughter would echo through the halls of the castle, and his cries for more brought a moment of happiness to everyone who heard it.

And then it was gone.

Calliope had wept for him so many times, and she felt the tight grip of grief resurfacing. She had mourned the laughter that would never echo through these halls again, the stories of his father he would never pass on to children of his own, the promise of a future shattered.

She had sung dirges and sought solace in memories, but they only deepened the pain.

And she was tired of mourning, of a grief that felt like it was hers alone to bear.

In that moment, his eyes searched hers. “You came.” And perhaps, they were seeking answers and forgiveness.

“You called.”

And perhaps, they were also holding the faint glimmer of hope…

[miitgaanar]

Whumptober prompt!

No. 10: BLOW TO THE HEAD

Slurred Words | Passing Out from Pain | “I can’t think straight.”

Don't read this one <3

**********

Addilyn tried to bite back the scream.  She focused on a point across the street—a faded advertisement for Farold’s pasted up on the side of a building.  It was ripped and peeling, with the simple word PISSMOPS written across it in a hasty hand—

She bucked against the sudden pressure applied to her middle, accidentally biting her tongue as she fought to contain the pained yelp that sat at the back of her throat.  Though the yelp might have been better than the pathetic, broken cry that escaped her instead.

“I’m sorry,” Lemuel said, his voice hard.  Focused.  But she could hear the ragged edge in each word.  “I called for a healer.  We just need to slow the bleeding until he gets here, all right?”

He shifted his weight slightly and a piercing pain shot through her abdomen, causing an abrupt white flash to engulf her vision.  She didn’t even get to scream that time.

It wasn’t until Addilyn felt a less than gentle slap at her cheek that she realized she must have blacked out.  And, even then, her line of sight had grown frighteningly narrow.

“Hey,” Lemuel snapped, all of the authority of an officer in that single word.  “Stay with me, Theron.  You’re not off duty yet.  Not even with a hole in your gut.  Eyes up.”

A weak laugh escaped her—which she instantly regretted, her hand clutching at the fabric of his sleeve as she struggled to keep the encroaching abyss at bay—and managed to croak, “Sorry, sir.  Won’t happen again.”

Lemuel looked over his shoulder, the movement causing her to whimper.  Absently, she realized his cape was missing.  Glancing down between them, she saw that he had ripped it off to stem the considerable flow of blood from her abdomen.

Damn, Addilyn thought dully.  There’ll be no getting that stain out.

“Where are they?” Lemuel called out to someone she couldn’t see.

“They should be on their way, sir,” a man answered.  Probably someone on the patrol.  She didn’t recognize the voice, though she didn’t really try to recall its owner.  “We sent up the signal.”

“Send up another,” Lemuel said, no small amount of frustration present in the order.  He turned his attention back to her, wincing slightly as he looked her over.  She tried not to read too much into the way his brow furrowed in obvious concern.  “Just a bit longer, Theron.  Keep your eyes on the streets.”

Addilyn felt him apply more pressure, the sickening squelch of wet cloth reaching her ears just as her vision faded once more, coupled with an overwhelming nausea that had her gagging violently.  The spasm was enough to leave her gasping as she struggled to stay conscious.

She tried not to notice the coppery tang of blood coating her tongue.

“Easy.”  Lemuel reached up to brush a lock of hair from her face.  The cool metal of his gauntlets against her clammy skin teased the ghost of a smile from her lips.  “Just a bit longer.”

They’re not coming, she thought.  How she wanted to say the words to him, to warn him.  Prepare him.  The Lions would never pass up an opportunity to rid themselves of Addilyn Theron, not when the blame could easily be shuffled off onto Gefendur miscreants.

But, try as she might, the words never came, so focused was she on fighting against the inky blackness clawing at the edges of her vision.  The pain was constant, unbearable.  As if the blade that had run her through was still lodged in her gut, twisting and cutting and slicing at her innards.  Though she doubted the constant pressure Lemuel applied to the area helped much.  Had she the strength, she might have even tried to push him off of her, if only for a moment’s reprieve from the agony scuttling beneath her flesh.

“Anything?” Lemuel called out, though his eyes didn’t leave her.

“Nothing yet, sir.”

“Goddamnit,” he muttered softly.  She could see the desperation beginning to creep into his golden gaze.  And perhaps just the hint of a dawning realization.  One that he clearly did not want to consider.  “Send someone to the temple.  Bring back one of their healers.”

“But, sir—”

“That’s an order,” he snarled, leaving no room for argument.

He pressed just a bit harder on her stomach, leaching the last of the self-control from her body.  She cried out, loud and uninhibited as a broken sob wrenched itself from her throat.  The hand clutching at his sleeve grew weak, her fingers uselessly numb as she finally lost her futile battle with the looming darkness.

And it was the anguished cry of her name that followed her as she at last fell into the rapacious void.

[zacksfairest]

more lem/addie thoughts. my laser eyes are at the ready.

"how do i get around Addie being part of the patrol in which Lem was supposed to die"

because it would have been a death sentence, and if we are assuming that no one outside of bastion and maybe one or two other members of the cabal were aware duane was the real target, they wouldn't have passed up the opportunity to be rid of her. this would have been a death in the line of duty, and no fault could fall on them for this.

and i don't think Lem would have wanted this, though would not really be able to order her off the patrol without it looking mighty suspicious, even if there's nothing actually going on between them yet.

after throwing this around in my brain for a few days, my simplest solution is this:

he slips something into her canteen/mug/whatever that makes her violently ill, and so she is physically unable to join the patrol and she is swapped out for someone else.

it's great bc it is a viable reason to get her off the patrol and out of (perceived) harm's way. but also it's great bc it's a final act of selfishness on Lem's part before he believes he heads off to his death.

yes this is the shit occupying my brain when i should actually be working

[danpuff-ao3]

Thanks for the tag @cindle-writes!

"Self-rec time! What are your favorite five fics that you've written and why? After replying to this ask, feel free to pass on to five other writers to spread the love. 💗"

Tagging: @perverse-idyll @writcraft @lizzy0305 @ripeteeth @lqtraintracks @threadbearao3 and whoever else might want to play!

It was hard to narrow down, as I've written well over 100 fics in my time (most available on AO3, but I still have some secrets). This has been good to look at and think about in light of my recent writerly struggles. Gave me a nice reminder of what I love and what I've accomplished.

1.) Contempt | Devotion

I'm counting them together, since they're the same story from different perspectives. Nothing will ever top them for me. They are THE Snarry story for me. They've been my OTP for 20+ years, and those works are years and years of dedication (and devotion, ha) to this ship. It's all the feelings I've ever had about them. It's the version of them, as individuals and together, that most resonates with me.

It is, as I often say, the story of my soul. I ripped these words out of my teeth, out of my bones, and wrote them with my blood. It was an agonizing process, and one I would do again and again, because I could not be more proud of anything, and it still amazes me that I created this story. That I finally pulled it out of my soul and put it to words. All of the passion I have for them, all of my history with this ship, all of it is right there.

(Also shoutout to the other little ficlets in the series; this version of Snarry will always have my heart.)

2.) Collateral Damage

While Contempt is the Snarry of my dreams, Collateral Damage is the DRON of my dreams.

Draco and Ron are my secondary OTP, and while I could write and rewrite Snarry to death, I have a hard time revisiting Dron as the main relationship, because I feel like I put everything I had for them into this one story.

The fic is written in Draco's POV, which I loved and was such a treat. I loved exploring Draco and Ron as individuals, and as a couple, and considering them more than I ever had before. It was fun playing with some real enemies-to-lovers, and seeing it become something really passionate and loving and fun (but also angsty, because I'm ME, hello).

It's a tale of revenge and insecurity, and fooling yourself while you try to fool others. I tried to really love on Draco and Ron both, while also diving into their respective flaws, and while I already loved them, writing this fic made me love them all the more.

3.) The Curse of Anteros

Another Snarry, of course. This one is such a love story, in some ways, though there's plenty of questionable (objectionable) content there. But for me, that made it all the more romantic, this sort of love conquers all, even in the worst of scenarios. My boys survived toxicity, and a curse, and life.

It's also a concept I've played with for quite some time, inspired by a Charmed episode (which was itself inspired by a film called Ladyhawke). It was a fun exercise in watching them grow, and watching time move on, with their connection unchanged. The story spans decades, and really, I'm not sure I've written anything more romantic!

Also features art by my dear friend @mrviran which is phenomenal and I am still totally awed by what they created for this story!! It was fun inventing a creature together, too <3

4.) A Matter of Time

Another Snarry which also holds a special place in my heart. It was a unique experience of trying new things. For one, it was alternating POV, which I don't normally care for; for me it's hard to maintain flow along with maintaining character voices. But ALSO it was told in reverse chronological order, which I'd been dying to try! Also...the angst. I love it.

And the END!!!! The end kills me and I love it. </3

5.) Cruel Summer

I waffled with choosing 5, because I felt like it should be Orange Blossoms, and I think part of me was scared to put this one on the list. You know...devastating and dead dovey as it is. It's a Sirry fic, one that I'd been cooking up in my noggin' for a few years.

I wanted to play with a darker side to Sirry, and portraying a very unhealthy and troubling relationship which really only felt natural with all that Harry and Sirius had been through. I wanted to do them and the concept justice, which I really think I did, and I'm really proud of how it came out. There's more story to tell...the real story, I think, will be the aftermath, but we'll see if it ever actually comes to fruition. In the meantime, I really love this story, awful as the content is.

[osunism]

Muse's Fanfic Masterpost

⚠️ Please read before following/interacting. ⚠️

A rebloggable version of this.

I reserve the right to set and maintain boundaries with my blog and my writing. As a rule, I block ageless/blank/minor-run blogs. This blog is run by a real adult and so I only want to interact with other actual adults because my content lends itself to being adult-oriented.

Every original female protagonist I write unless otherwise stated is a dark-skinned Black woman. Sometimes I will include art or a model for closest approximation, but for the most part I make this explicitly clear in the narration.

I usually only write OC/Canon ships. That is central to all of my writing. I know a lot of people are weirdly hostile about OCs being shipped with their favorite characters but I promise you it’s not and never will it ever be that serious. If you’re a dick to me about what I choose to write, at best the only attention you’ll get is a block.

That being said let’s just get this out of the way: I write characters who like to fuck. Sex is going to happen in my work so if that gives you the ick well…you’ve been warned.

I do not take requests. Writing is already very taxing for me given my health issues and schedule, and I want to focus on writing things that I personally enjoy, this includes prompts I choose to participate in.

For my roleplayers and those who like to ship one another’s OCs and do collaborative worldbuilding and headcanons: please ask me first before taking things from my personal sandbox. I’m very protective of my little corner and would rather do things like that with those whom I’ve established a close rapport.

Do not ask me about BioWare [Dragon Age and Mass Effect] content. Yes, my work is still available to read. But I no longer have any interest in creating content for that fandom, so don’t ask me about it.

My purpose and goal in my fanfiction is not to be strictly canon-compliant, and my interpretation of canon events and characters may and likely will differ from yours. Canon is not sacrosanct to me. If you find my work disagreeable because of this, feel free to go read something else suited to your tastes!

If you like my work, pleasepleaseplease share it. Liking my posts or giving kudos on AO3 doesn’t do much if you don’t share it for others to read. Comments are highly encouraged and appreciated as well. It’s always good to see feedback on how people interpret my work. It also helps me refine my writing in order to get my stories across more clearly.

Due to the frequent racist hostility and unpleasantness in other fandoms I inhabit, my comments on AO3 are moderated as a rule. Act like someone raised you right before you interact with me. This includes checking your racial biases at the door.

Below is a list of all my current works. Since I’m currently only active in the JJK fandom, those are the works that’ll be listed! Once other fandoms get active, this list will be sorted and updated!

⛩️ AO3 𑁍 FFN 𑁍 Parallax OCs 𑁍 Sonder OCs 𑁍 Headcanons & Meta ⛩️

Fic Status Key

[♡] - AO3 version.

[⭑] - Tumblr version.

[♤] - Fanfiction(dot)net version.

[🚩] - Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

[🔏] - Commissioned Fic

[∞] - In Progress

[☥] - Rewriting

[☯] - Complete

[📿] - Parallax

[🔮] - Sonder

[🪄] - Lost Worlds & Endless Nights

Relationship Key

🧿👹 - Satoru/Sundari

⛩️⚔️ - Sukuna/Nadja

🧿🧜🏾‍♀️ - Satoru/Asabé

⛓️👸🏾 - Toji/Akasha

⛓️👩🏿‍🦱 - Toji/blackfem!Reader

Relevant Tags

#muse writes

#fic rec

#jjk x oc

#jjk x black oc

#jjk fanfic

#jjk fanart

#fic: [ficname]

#series: [seriesname]

#ch: [charname]

#oc: [ocname]

#otp: [shipname]

noun [📿] par·​al·​lax ˈper-ə-ˌlaks ˈpa-rə- 1. the apparent displacement or the difference in apparent direction of an object as seen from two different points not on a straight line with the object. especially: the angular difference in direction of a celestial body as measured from two points on the earth's orbit.

Nadja Hikmat, an immortal warrior tasked by Heaven itself to hunt Ryōmen Sukuna, falls in love with the sorcerer instead. From that fateful meeting, a ripple of unforeseen changes echos across the sea of time.

Beast of No Nation [♡] [⭑] [♤] – One night, the King of Curses took an over-curious fugitive of heaven to task. Over the course that night, and the many that followed, she found herself continuously drawn to the jujutsu world. [☯] [📿] ⛩️⚔️ || 🧿👹

If [♡] [⭑] [♤] – One night, Satoru meets a woman with strange tattoos who sears a place on his mind and memory. Who is she? [☯] [📿] 🧿👹

Crystalline [⭑]– The night Itadori Yuji takes in Sukuna’s Finger, Satoru sees Sukuna’s cursed energy erupt in Roppongi and finds a familiar face at its epicenter. [🔏] [☯] [📿] 🧿👹

We Might Even Be Fallin' In Love [♡] [⭑] [♤] – The miracle of existence bridges the infinity between them. [☯] [📿] 🧿👹

Daughter of Disgrace [♡] [⭑] [♤] – In the aftermath of Satoru Gojo’s sealing, Sundari must choose rebellion in order to free him. Lucky for them both, rebellion has always been her preferred modus operandi. [☯] [📿] ⛩️⚔️ || 🧿👹

The Godslayer Project [♡] [⭑] [♤] - Coming soon...

The universe conspires to keep one pair's love kept safe. Nadja and Sukuna walk Samsāra, no matter the form, recognizing one another's souls everywhere they meet. Here is how their meeting ripples across the multiverse. [Or: I am in love with these two and here are some AUs I'm cooking up.]

Highball [♡] [⭑] [♤] - The price of peace has a cost. The scales must balance eventually. [Yakuza/Found Family AU]

noun [🔮] 1. the feeling one has on realizing that every other individual one sees has a life as full and real as one’s own, in which they are the central character and others, including oneself, have secondary or insignificant roles: In a state of sonder, each of us is at once a hero, a supporting cast member, and an extra in overlapping stories.

A collection of fics in my sprawling JJK multiverse featuring various protagonists, including the Reader!

The Unforgiving Roads That Lead to You [♡] [♤] – Roxanne Abaza, the only foreign-born special grade sorcerer in existence, is called to assist with the wrangling and exorcism of Ryōmen Sukuna. What ensues is more than she bargained for. [☥]

Halfsleeper [♡] [⭑] [♤] – A young widowed sorceress seeks protection under the aegis of the Honored One, but he has a better idea for keeping her out of the clutches of her dangerous clan. [∞] 🧿🧜🏾‍♀️

Unsanctioned [♡] [⭑] [♤] – Bodyguard/Yakuza AU. Toji Fushiguro, who is in disgrace after having an affair with his boss’ now ex-wife, is now tasked with protecting her as the mercurial grounds of Tokyo’s Underworld begin to shift into uncertainty, putting the entire syndicate and anyone associated with them in peril. [∞] ⛓️👸🏾

Before It's Gone [♡] [⭑] – Toji’s been darkening your doorway for a while and is only now realizing what you already knew. [☯] [🔮] ⛓️👩🏿‍🦱

These are playlists for the fics and characters within my JJK ‘verse. It cannot be overstated how much music plays an integral role in my creative process, and it makes me happy to share it with you all to expand the picture I paint with my stories. A ☮︎ indicates a link to the Spotify version of the playlist. Keep in mind that due to licensing issues [yuck], my personal music library tracks can’t be played on some services so there might be more or less songs, different versions of songs, etc. Still bangers, tho. Enjoy.

🎧 [ fugitive of heaven ] [☮︎]– Nadja Hikmat's playlist. Like her immortal life, this playlist has been curated across decades, evoking imagery of a wild, twisting sojourn through many eras. 🐍

🎧 [ godslayer principle ] [☮︎] – Sundari Hikmat's playlist. Expect atmospheric haunting, psytrance, hard techno, some house, R&B, trap, and strange chanting. 🔱

🎧 [ ritual + bone ] [☮︎] – Roxanne Abaza’s playlist. Witchy, just like our girl likes it.

🎧 [ highball ] [☮︎] – The soundtrack for my Parallax AU: Highball.

© 2024 Hajara Asiri. Do NOT copy, translate, plagiarize, repost anywhere without permission [reblogging posts is okay]. This includes feeding any of my writing to an AI as well as copying my masterlist format. I only upload on Tumblr, AO3, and FFN. All general banners and dividers by @cafekitsune.

☕️ Member of the @pixelcafe-network.

🇵🇸 Palestinian Resources - A guide to Palestine as well as resources in order to help with relief efforts for individuals and families. You can also check my main blog for fundraisers I boost as well.

[lilacella]

✒️📖(FF) Writer ask game📃✏️:

1. ❤️ What's your OTP? (To write about or in general)

2. 🧡What is your favourite story you have written?

3. ❤️‍🩹Which story/fic of yours do you wish you could rewrite completely?

4. 🫸Something you would never write? (Trope, Ship, Genre, etc)

5. 💕If you have OCs, who is your favorite?

6. 📝What is your preferred mode of writing? (Laptop, Phone, Handwritten, etc.)

7. 🫶What is your favourite trope to write?

8. 🫠What is your least favourite thing to write aka what do you often struggle with? (Dialogue, action scenes, endings, ...)

9. 🤔When did you start creative writing as a hobby?

10. 💭How many WIPs or ideas do you have stashed away currently?

11. 💬Do you write in your native language?

12. 🥰Plug option: Which fellow writers do you recommend checking out?

13. 😏Smut, yes or no?