#I could rework this into a Spy Family fic

[sister-cna-reader]

WIP Wednesday

(On thursday night!)

tagged by @sarsaparillia

Original Work I started a few years ago and got put on hiatus due to work and college stuff.

The Cover Up (working title)

Prologue (Tragic backstory, involves child death)

~~*~~

Thomas wished his little snowbird was with him. He ached with how much he missed his little girl. Lonely nights, only broken by the sound of the hearth snapping, pained his head.  Only a few times had his gut burned with envy, watching his charge receive comfort and teasing from his parents.  

He missed brushing her thick white hair. He missed her soft voice, once so quiet and small. He wanted to bring her to the newest cafes, buy her the prettiest of dresses. Thomas wanted to have his little snowbird back. 

~

Thomas had a well appointed suite in the royal household.  It held its own balcony, a luxurious bathing room, and the bed was big enough for three grown men. But Thomas lived alone.  One man with no partner, or pet, to eat up the vast blankets. No child to wake him in the night for comfort.  

In the darkest, worst nights Thomas would relive the day of the dragon attack.  Ash clouded the skies, flames eating the buildings all around.  Although it was one of the worst disasters to hit the country since the Uprising, it might be one of the best days in his adult memory. For however horrific the damage was, Thomas had found his baby girl. 

Block by building block, he had helped citizens escape towards the shelter. They had little warning to evacuate sooner, and so he hadn’t gotten to the orphanage in time.  A huddle of children, the older ones holding the babies, toddlers clinging to the closest skirts, watched the rubble of their home smolder.  A Matron and two workers held the emergency buckets. Names were being hastily read off, a militaristic head count to see who had gotten out. 

The Matron had finished the list when Thomas got close. The elder woman held her face in a grim line. Not everyone had managed to get to the street. 

“Is there anything I can do?” he had asked the woman. Her eye held a brief moment on his face, then on the one standing wing of the building. It was black from soot, barely more than three corners with a roof. The windows were blown out, and the play equipment in the yard held up the remaining wall on the back end. 

“There are three unaccounted for. Two boys and a girl. They were coloring in the sunroom.” she nodded towards the partially standing structure.  “The rest of us were finishing supper in the great room when the attack started.” 

Her old frame shuddered.  “We are out of immediate danger of the dragon. Could you check the sun room to see if they survived?” 

Thomas had already started toward the building before she completed the request.  Even if the dragon had been subdued by now, the real danger lurked in the weak beams and charred walls. If the children did survive, he had to get them out now, before the walls collapsed. 

It was easy to get into the space, the floor to ceiling windows held no glass to keep the ash and cinders out.  Blackened walls held coal gray frames, children’s art reduced to wisps of white fluttering in the breeze. 

Two boys, no more than 10 years old,  were huddled around a smaller body. The boys were covered in ash, blood puddled from their heads, a chunk of beam, and a iron lamp laid not far from them. They did not breathe, their forms still. 

Thomas checked for signs of life anyway. No pulse, no breath. Entwined in the boy’s arms was a small girl. Barely more than a year old, she laid quiet, eyes closed. 

A whispered blessing for their souls left his lips as Thomas lifted the trio. He would not leave their bodies to be buried by rubble.  

Thomas was a large man, many had joked his mother must’ve been a giantess. The three children were easily carried in his arms, despite the dead weight.  When he stepped onto the street again, a cart was there, awaiting his burden.  The Matron helped lay the bodies into the cart, starting with one of the boys.  Their arms held fast to the little girl, refusing to let go even in death. The brothers were separated from each other while Thomas gently cradled the girl in his arms.  

Once they were laid side by side in the cart, fat rain drops splashed on the people in the street. Rain washed away the blood. The brothers looked almost peaceful now, laying in the cart. 

Thomas shifted the little girl, so he may lay her into the cart. Water spattered on her lashes, and she twitched from the sensation. 

Just a brief movement, just enough to plant hope into Thomas’ heart. He brought her face fully into the pelting rain. She flinched as the water ran across her cheek and past her ear. 

The Matron screamed for a medic, rushing to check the little one’s pulse. Her wisened hands rubbed the small chest, coaxing a warbled whine from the child.  A medic swept in and put a dropper to her mouth.  

Pearlescent potion dripped into the small mouth, the glow revealing ashy gums. A feeble swallow followed by another pitiful whine sealed the child’s survival in Thomas’ hands.  

Her dark curls were melting in the pouring rain. The medic mumbled  something about shock and that can be scary, but she should be fine.  Thomas ever so gently wiped the hair away, revealing pinking skin from the hot coals she had laid near.  

The baby’s eyes fluttered again. Her lashes were coming off in the rain too. The dropper was back at her lips, more potion to stabilize. She sipped weakly at it, but obediently. Clothes were quickly cut off of her, to check for any other burns or blisters.  Only her head and hands had anything to worry about, the cleansing rain making quick work of lingering soot or ash.  

Thomas watched, mesmerized when the baby in his hands opened her eyes. Eyes the color of his mother’s hope chest met his own gray ones. Warm brown eyes furrowed in discomfort at the cold rain, the many hands, and the awful taste of the stabilizer.  

He wouldn’t, couldn’t let her go. Not when taking her to the awaiting ambulance. Not when the nurses cleaned her in medicinal waters. Not even when the day had started anew, sunlight striking through the clouds outside the hospital window.  

She slept soundly in his arms and whined fretfully when pulled away. 

It had taken only a few hours of convincing, and a trade of labor helping rebuild the orphanage to adopt his little bird. 

It only took a week after bringing her home for her hair to start growing back. Tufts of snow white hair peeked out of the carrier on his back. Secure with him, Thomas went about his daily work, ready to gush with fellow parents about their child’s daily adventures. 

He had kept her name Mary. He more often used “Snowbird” to call his daughter. His birdy grew well, stronger every day. 

Father had took his time convincing Thomas to send Mary other relatives for education.  He knew the fight would be long to let Thomas set his Snowbird to fly. The contract to work under the Royal household was too good to pass up.  But with the Prince too unstable  in his powers, with a demon wolf to boot, the Royal household was no place for his powerless Mary. 

So at 10 years old, he sent Mary to live with relatives on the Coast for a year. Then  she went to live a year up North, and then a few months in Savont. For the next 16 years, Mary was placed with relative after relative, broken only by visits from her dear Papa once a year. 

[loosesodamarble]

5 and 18 for the ask game please 🥺💕?

Alrighty then~! Time to answer some questions!

..........

5. What are your fanfic pet peeves? Do they have a huge effect on whether or not you decide to read something?

(deep breath)

Frankly, I've gotten sick and tired of the found family trope.

For characters like Vanessa, she does actively say that she sees the Black Bulls as her family. But I've grown tired of pushing the idea that all the Bulls see themselves as family.

For the Forgers in Spy x Family, they're literally pretending to be family but finding fulfillment in that life so I accept that as a found family.

But other times... Like, if someone were to write a fanfic that had Tanjirou consider Inosuke and Zenitsu his family (outside of Zenitsu marrying Nezuko), I'd laugh in their face. Because even if Tanjirou said they're "like brothers," he called them comrades first and I will fight someone for spitting in the face of Tanjirou's familial devotion by just saying arbitrarily adding others in.

"Found family" can work. But most of the time I just get annoyed. "Family" is not the be all, end all of close relationships just like how romance isn't the most important kind of love. And maybe it's because I love my family but sometimes it feels like "found family" spits in the face of the importance of one's birth family, one's origins.

My... tiredness with found family won't immediately turn me away from a fic fortunately. I'm not entirely opposed to it. Honestly, I think there's been a greater effect on how I plan to write my ocs (long story short: my ocs don't subscribe to the found family mindset and like other things, that's not something I think I'll ever change).

Just... Fanfic writers need to use the word "friend."

18. Do you have a WIP that you keep telling yourself you’ll eventually get back to, but deep down you know that’s probably a lie?

I keep telling myself I'll return to the World Swap AU. And maybe I could.

It's a fun idea. Taking the characters of Black Clover and Demon Slayer and changing them to fit in the other world is interesting. It got me to look up names and kanji so I got a chance to learn some things. I considered the roles that the characters could play in their world worlds. And honestly, the coolest thing about it is the acknowledgement of contrast between the two series. In Black Clover, everyone is basically superpowered with magic and the growth of magic seems to be a big factor in victories. Meanwhile, Demon Slayer's characters are mere humans fighting monsters with actual superpowers and having to rely on physical abilities and sheer grit. Very different worlds and it'd be cool to show the differences by swapping their characters.

But as of right now I don't see that happening. The translation project and reworking characters roles was fun and all but I think I'd need to flesh out more details if I were ever write a fic for that AU.

I do like what I did with it. But I doubt I'll ever think of a way to continue it.

[nillegible]

the JGY amnesia Fic

[AN: Someday I will come up with decent titles for my fics... but not now XD I hope you like this fic, the premise is that the issue with XY and NMJ happens before JZX’s death, and so the argument and the stairs moves up in the timeline! And JGY hits his head and gets TV-show amnesia, and remembers no one, not even himself, but is otherwise his sharp, suspicious self...]

He wakes up sure that he is dying, nothing else could hurt so sharp, agonizing pain radiating out from the back of his head, stabbing sharply every time he is swung, and he forces his eyes open. The light burns, but he can make out an earth green and brown collar, and a strong jawline. He is being carried by this man.

He doesn’t know who this is, but he feels… safe. Even though every step this man takes makes his eyes water.

He blacks out.

*

His name is Jin Guangyao. It rolls smoothly off his tongue, but sits wrongly in his mind. “Temporary amnesia,” the doctor had informed him, when Jin Guangyao could not tell him the answers to any pf his questions; not his name, or the date, or where they were.

A fancy young master in white-and-gold robes, who introduces himself as Jin Zixuan, is the one who sits by his side and tells Jin Guangyao the basics of his life. There is such an obvious lack of detail that it leaves him intrigued. And Jin Zixuan looks ashamed when Jin Guangyao asked if he was Jin Zixuan’s uncle. “No, I’m your older brother,” he says. “We… we share a birthday, but you’re a day younger.”

Jin Guangyao watches him for a moment, and wonders at the source of his brother’s shame. “I’m a bastard, aren’t I?” he asks.

“My father legitimized you!” Jin Zixuan protests. “You’re my brother.”

Jin Guangyao smiles at him. This man is clearly naïve, but has no ill-intent. The man who had named Jin Guangyao Jin Guangyao, however? He is yet to ascertain that.

*

Jin Guangyao’s memory doesn’t return within the first week. With his head injury healed, though, he’s allowed to leave the infirmary which allows him to collect a lot more useful data.

There is a lot of work piled up in his room. Disorganized, as if someone had gone through it to take the important paperwork to work on while he is <infirm>. That he was assigned so much work that was non-essential makes him wonder if he was actually pretty low on the social ladder, here. He goes through all of them anyway, most of it is useful information, painting a picture of Jin sect’s activities, and the sorts of projects that they allow to drag on for weeks. Jin Guangyao has left meticulous notes in a separate notebook about how to put everything into a more sensible order. That such reworking was required

His accessories, or lack-there-of, are even more enlightening. There’s also a scholarly-sort of hat, and only a few cheap hair ribbons. Nothing at all like the intricate jade hairpins or crowns with intricate metalwork and precious stones that Jin Zixuan and Jin Zixun wore daily.

Jin Guangyao’s place here is… obvious.

He wonders who the man who had picked him up after his injury, was. No one tells him, not even Jin Zixuan, he just pats Jin Guangyao’s hand and says, “Don’t worry, you’re safe now.” The implications of that are obvious, of course, that the stranger was the one who had hurt him. And yet it’s a subject no one speaks of, of how Jin Guangyao had fallen down the thousand steps of Koi Tower, and he hadn’t asked after the first two times. He stays wary, watching everyone. Someone had tried to kill him, and he doesn’t even remember which of his acquaintances might want him dead.

*

Lan Xichen arrives two days after his release from the infirmary, Lan-Zongzhu, according to everyone else. He’s beautiful, the most beautiful person that Jin Guangyao has ever seen. Since he remembers all of a week, this doesn’t sound like a compliment, but Jin Guangyao could probably search for decades and not find anyone more beautiful. It would not be fair.

They have tea together, after Lan Xichen – “Call me er-ge, you are my sworn brother, A-Yao,” – has checked him over worriedly, and checked his meridians, and pressed his fingertips gently to the back of Jin Guangyao’s head, to where his head injury had been, and ascertained that he truly is well.

“They did not tell me you were injured,” he says. “Da-ge had to, and this is the week of new students for the summer lectures, I could not leave. Jin Zixuan promised me you were well, though,” he says. Sincerity shines through him, and Jin Guangyao wonders what on earth he, an unwelcome child in his own family, could have done to make this man care for him.

So he asks.

Lan Xichen describes a heroic young man, who gave him shelter when he needed it most, who had smiled and laughed at him, and helped him with chores he could not do, and gave him the strength to fight a war. Lan Xichen tells him that this kind young man had gone into a war that did not affect him, only to help, that he had turned spy against a raging mad man, and finally taken off his head.

“So that is why my father took me in,” says Jin Guangyao. There’s a flicker of pain on Lan Xichen’s face as Jin Guangyao tells him what he’s surmised about how he’s treated here. “Did you know?” asks Jin Guangyao.

“I suspected,” Lan Xichen says softly. “But you were too proud to tell me. You insisted you were happy here. I visited when I could, but I never… I’m so sorry.”

Jin Guangyao reaches out to pat Lan Xichen’s hand, it feels so familiar, even if Jin Guangyao can’t remember doing it before. He must have, Lan Xichen’s sad face cannot be borne. “I’m sure I didn’t want to bother you, er-ge. You’re overworking yourself even now.” The signs are there, even behind his flawless composure. “You look so tired.”

“I had to come,” says Lan Xichen. “I was so scared that you…” He trails off, then turns his hand, holding onto him tightly. “If you don’t remember your place at Koi tower, do you want to return with me until your memory recovers? We’re still reconstructing, but Cloud Rececsses is still an excellent place to ”

“This Jin Guangyao is honoured, but what if it doesn’t?” asks Jin Guangyao practically. “I can’t just leave my home like that.” More quietly, he adds, “There must have been some reason I didn’t leave before.”

“You never said, exactly, but I believe it was because of your mother,” says Lan Xichen. “She wished that you would gain your father’s recognition, and a place at Koi Tower.”

“Do you know anything about her?” Jin Guangyao is not an idiot, he knows from the snide remarks, the way that people try not to touch him that he is of low birth, that his mother’s occupation was. That. He wonders if Lan Xichen will lie to him.

“She was an educated woman,” he says. “A renowned beauty. You’ve told me that you take after her, in many ways. She was skilled in the arts. She never taught you art but she was your master in calligraphy and music. She loved you very much and wanted you to have a good education because she knew… she knew that A-Yao is so incredibly smart and destined for greater things.” He squeezes Jin Guangyao’s hand. “Her life was not easy. She suffered, but she loved you. She would be proud of you, to know how much you achieved.”

It should matter, it does matter, Jin Guangyao’s heart squeezes, but it is from sympathy for what Lan Xichen is feeling. The dark honey-gold eyes are bright with tears. Clearly Jin Guangyao had loved her very much, before. But Jin Guangyao cannot find in him any love for a woman that Jin Guangyao cannot imagine. A woman with his face, a prostitute, but educated, talented. And ambitious to have Jin Guangshan’s son.

“My father did not take her in, I gather?”

“He did not. She died of illness shortly before I met you.”

“Thank you for telling me,” says Jin Guangyao.

*

Lan Xichen stays an entire afternoon, and readies himself to leave at dusk. Jin Guangyao accompanies him to the sky-pavilion on Koi Tower that the Jin disciples use to take off from.

There’s a last nagging question that Jin Guangyao hadn’t managed to slide into the conversation, as it meandered into cultivation theory and Jin Guangyao and Lan Xichen had tried to piece out some kind of pattern in what kinds of cultivation knowledge he had retained, and what he had forgotten. It had been an interesting exercise.

“Er-ge, before you go,” says Jin Guangyao. He looks around cautiously, but no one is near enough to overhear. “You’re older than Jin Zixuan, aren’t you?” he asks, and Lan Xichen nods. “So our da-ge… you never said. Is he… did he die during the war?”

“No!” cries Lan Xichen. “A-Yao no, he’s not. He’s fine, he just could not find time to visit.”

Lie.

It’s the first time Lan Xichen has lied to him today, but Jin Guangyao is certain of it.

“No one talks about him, and I couldn’t find any letters from him. I did find a few of yours. No one even says his name. Who is he?”

“Nie Mingjue,” says Lan Xichen, sounding defeated. “Of course you would think to ask, but his name is Nie Mingjue.”

Everything falls into place. Jin Guangyao has seen some Nie disciple couriers on their way to private meetings with his father and the Jin council of elders. Hard faced and angry looking, they kept to themselves and departed the moment they could, without staying for a meal or entertainment.

“You think he pushed me down the stairs,” says Jin Guangyao.

“No,” says Lan Xichen. “We know he did. He kicked you down the stairs. He–”

“And you believe that?” asks Jin Guangyao.

“Of course I do,” says Lan Xichen. “Da-ge was the one who told me. I knew that things were difficult between the two of you, recently, but I had not imagined… It does not matter, we are looking through the records now, so that you can be free of your vows to him, and even if we can’t find something, he won’t visit Koi Tower again, Jin-zongzhu has forbidden it.”

“Oh,” says Jin Guangyao, mind whirring. “Okay then.”

“Is A-Yao afraid we’re covering something up?” asks Lan Xichen. Jin Guangyao is not sure what gave it away, he thought he’d kept his face smooth.

“Naturally I trust er-ge,” he says, smiling up at him. “I just remember him, vaguely. He picked me up. He saved me.”

It’s Jin Guangyao’s first memory, pained and fragmented though it is.

“He did take you up to the infirmary right after,” Lan Xichen agrees. He looks faintly puzzled, like he’s not sure why that matters to Jin Guangyao.

“I understand,” says Jin Guangyao. “Nie-zongzhu would of course regret his action after his moment of anger.”

“He does,” Lan Xichen assures him. “You should write to him, if you are willing to accept his apologies, but Da-ge is terribly sorry.”

“Thank you er-ge, I will,” Jin Guangyao promises. The relief on Lan Xichen’s face is too pure for this world.

He waves goodbye after Lan Xichen takes off, and steps back into the maze of Koi Tower, mulling over all the new knowledge that Lan Xichen had brought with him. He was right, he should write to Nie Mingjue.

But after some more research.

What could they have possibly quarrelled about so badly?

Jin Guangyao makes his way back to his rooms, keeping his face expressionless at the gilded opulence and overt unfriendliness of his home. He doesn’t understand his past self at all.

Why does he still live here, where he’s so clearly unwanted?

Why did he even care for the acknowledgement of Jin Guangshan, who from even just Jin Guangyao’s few interactions this week and the gossip he’s picked up, is a selfish, disgusting pervert who wouldn’t spit on Jin Guangyao if he was on fire.

Just because his mother wanted him to?

She was a good woman, he hears again, in Lan Xichen’s sincere voice. But Jin Guangyao doesn’t get it. She had to have been a fool, to believe in Jin Guangshan, or terribly cold and cruel to send him to Jin Guangshan knowing exactly what kind of derision would await him here. He is a war hero, and yet he’s treated like a servant.

Jin Guangyao is in the mood to be charitable, so he picks the former.

He still doesn’t know why he stayed.

[You can now read part 2 here!]

[ri-writing]

Sink Me In The River

Title: Sink Me In The River

Fandom: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story

Characters: Cassian Andor, K-2SO, Bail Organa, Leia Organa

“I know you.”  It wasn't a question.  “And it's not from prior work with Draxel Security.”  

Cassian Andor kept his hands clasped behind his back as he locked gazes with the senator seated at the large oak desk.  That, he mentally told himself, was the fastest his cover had ever been blown.  Kay will probably say it's the fastest in the history of Alliance Intelligence.  He pushed the thought away and faced the immediate problem of how best to respond.  Bail Organa wasn't stupid, and it might be best to disclose the whole sordid mess.  At the same time, he knew that Imperial Intelligence had wired the office ages ago.  He had nearly two years of work on this job.  He couldn't afford....

“The room's clean.”  Organa folded his hands on top of the desk.  “If that helps you recall where we met.”

Cassian arched an eyebrow.  

“Oh, the good spymaster down the street sends someone every night to rectify that,” Organa smiled, as if they were playing a game.  “And every morning, I send his ears to places where they're more useful.  I believe they're down in the museum district today...all those school children on field trips should make for some enlightening audio.”

Cassian had the distinct impression that the senator was enjoying this far too much.  He doubted Organa would continue to think Imperial Intelligence was amusing once he learned he now warranted two spies in addition to the attempts at listening in.  

“I'm pretty sure you're Davits' programmer,” Organa continued, “And that your Magnum Opus is standing outside the door to my office.  Unfortunately, I don't remember your name.  Why don't we start there.”  Organa paused, then added, “Your real name.”

Cassian weighed the risks, then decided he really couldn't avoid the question.  Draven might be his commanding officer, but Bail Organa was Alliance Council.  He outranked them all.  “Lt. Cassian Andor, Sir.  You're correct in believing I'm under General Draven's command.”

Organa studied him a moment.  Cassian could see the wheels turning as Organa tried to determine if Draven was behind his sudden appearance in Organa's office or if the Imperials were also somehow involved.  He picked up the identification documents on his desk.  “And Oryn Byrne?”

“Is an Imperial Intelligence operative,” Cassian reported.  Even though it wasn't necessary, he felt compelled to share the obvious.  “I've been sent to spy on you, Sir.”

Organa's mouth twitched.  “Well, isn't that nice.  I was wondering how long that would take them.” He tossed Cassian's doctored documents onto the desk and leaned back in his chair.  “Do I want to ask how Draven managed to plant you in Imperial Intelligence?”

“By accident.  I was working as an aid to one of the Imperial Army's finest, and he recognized that I'm,” Cassian paused and chose the right words.  “Naturally observant.  Intelligence recruited me on his recommendation.”

Organa's mouth twitched again. Cassian had the distinct impression the senator found this all amusing.  He wondered if Organa had any idea how interested Intelligence was in how he spent his time.  “How long have you been...er...”

“Under?”  Cassian supplied. “About twenty one months.”  K-2SO would know for sure, but Kay was still standing outside the office after being ordered to stay put (at least, Cassian hoped Kay had stayed put.  With the security droid, he never quite knew what to expect).

“I see.”  Organa nodded almost to himself.  “I take it your mission is to catch me in a treasonous act sufficient to strip away my diplomatic immunity and then submit the requisite evidence to the appropriate judicial body to ensure a swift and just punishment?”

Cassian was quite sure the Empire did not have anything that could be called an appropriate judicial body with a straight face.  Courts and trials on Imperial soil had been shams for as long as he could remember.  He knew it wasn't his place to issue an indictment on the Empire's judicial system, so he went with, “Yes.”

“And your other mission is to find a way to...undermine all of that?”  Organa continued.

“Essentially.”  He hadn't worked out all the details yet.  

“How do you usually run these things?”  

“Sir?”

“When the Imperials ask Byrne or whatever name you use to investigate someone with Alliance sympathies.”

“This is a first for me, Sir.”  To be honest, Cassian wasn't sure why the Imperials would send one of their newest agents to spy on Organa.  The only explanation he'd been able to come up with was that Organa was of interest, but wasn't yet interesting enough to warrant a seasoned operative.  “I'll play it however you order.”

The sound of one of the heavy wooden doors opening interrupted whatever the senator was going to say next. An aid stepped inside with, “I'm sorry, senator, but you wanted to know when Senator Hosca's meeting let out....”

“Thank you.”  He nodded at Cassian.  “This will only take a few minutes.  Feel free to wait here.”

Cassian waited until Organa left before he made a cursory inspection of the office.  There was nothing nefarious hidden behind any of the artwork depicting what Cassian could only believe were Alderaanian landscapes.  While the antique chairs probably each cost more than the average family made in a year, there was nothing suspicious about them, either.  A brief check through the desk found nothing out of the ordinary.  Organa had office supplies, reports about various senate bills, and a holograph of his wife.  No wonder Imperial Intelligence was frustrated.  The room was very intentionally designed to have nothing incriminating. There was nothing even personal save the holo of the queen.

The door swung open again.  Out of habit, Cassian stepped away from the desk and straightened, ready to offer a salute.  Instead of the senator, a dark haired teenage girl stepped through the door.  She took one look at Cassian, blinked, and asked, “Who are you?”

Cassian quickly matched her face with the holos in his briefing files.  The senator's daughter.  “Oryn Byrne, Ma'am.  I've been appointed by the senate to oversee your father's security.”

Princess Leia Organa did not seem impressed with this news.  She spent a moment clearly measuring him up.  Her expression made clear she found him lacking.  “And the killing machine?”  She gestured to where K-2SO was peering through the door, watching the exchange.

“For security.”  Cassian replied evenly.

“If it would help,” Kay's tone was one that Cassian learned meant nothing resembling help was on its way, “I can elaborate.”

“Please don't.”  Cassian said before it got worse.

“But I am programmed for strategic analysis,” Kay protested.  “I can offer the likelihood that someone will kill the senator or that-”

“Kay.”  Cassian put an edge into the droid's name, then forced a smile as he turned back to the princess.  “He means well.”

“I see,” she said, in a voice that suggested she did see and that her opinion of him had somehow managed to decrease even further.  “And the reason you're alone in my father's office with a security machine standing at the door?”

“He had a call.”  Cassian offered, as if that was all the explanation anyone should need.

“And I am guarding the office,” Kay said, in a voice that both made clear he was not guarding the office and he was not pleased with standing by the door.  “For security.”

Cassian wasn't sure if Kay was doing it on purpose because he was feeling petulant or if he was that bad at lying.  He didn't think he wanted to know.

He was saved from having to make small talk with the princess of Alderaan when Organa returned to the room. “Leia, this is Oryn Byrne from Draxel Security.”  Organa dropped a stack of files on his desk.  They skidded across the surface and managed to come to a stop at the far end, barely beside the edge. “The Senate is concerned about the threats I've been receiving so he's going to be staying with us for the foreseeable future.”

The look on Leia's face suggested she didn't have faith in his ability to be a bodyguard.  As her father talked, however, her face softened and slipped into something pleasant.  “It's nice to meet you.”  She nodded in Cassian's direction.

“Likewise.”  Cassian returned.  He made a mental note not to trust the girl.  Spies weren't the only creatures who knew how to act or how to manipulate people. Politicians and royals both counted those skills among their most valued.  Her years of training likely rivaled his own.

“If you don't mind giving me a few minutes with Byrne, then we can head down to the main chamber.” Organa added.

Leia nodded as if an obedient daughter, then gave Cassian another smile on her way to the door.  He didn't miss the distrustful look she shot at Kay as the door closed behind her.

“You didn't tell her.”  Cassian remarked.

“I'd rather not worry her.” Organa replied.  “I've also learned that these types of conspiracies work better with fewer people involved.”  He looked at the door a long moment, then added, “If something ever does go wrong, though, you can trust her.”

Translation: please keep my teenage daughter out of this mess if at all possible.  Cassian could do that.

So this was part of a piece I started about two years ago and then abandoned to write more angsty Rogue One fic.  I've always liked it, and the original story is well and truly abandoned, so I went back and reworked it as a one-shot.

[ranier-layarte]

LONG Character Survey: Ranier Leveilleur

BASICS.

FULL NAME: Ranier Kyran Layarte Leveilleur

NICKNAME: Ran, Raven

AGE: 21-25 (depending on expac)

BIRTHDAY: 1st Sun of the 2nd astral moon

ETHNIC GROUP: Au ra (Xaela)

NATIONALITY: Eorzean – From Ul'dah

LANGUAGE(S): Eorzean,

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: No

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Isn't this the same as the above?

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Married

CLASS: Weapon Master

• Proficient in almost all martial weapons.

• Tends to carry multiple weapons at all times.

• Prefers Axes out of all the bladed weaponry

HOMETOWN / AREA: Ul'dah

CURRENT HOMETOWN/ AREA: Shirogane Mansion

PROFESSION(S): WoL, Scion, Machinist, Businessman, Crafter

PHYSICAL: Extremely fit, exercises daily. Muscular build

HAIR: Black/Dark Blue

EYES: Crimson

NOSE: Average, straight, roman-esque

FACE: Straight essentially a greek nose. (At least if I had to try and describe it)

LIPS: A bit on the thinner side, very lightly pink.

COMPLEXION: A mix of Fair and Medium?

BLEMISHES: None

SCARS: Scar on left thigh from stab wound, Scar on left midsection, and upper right thigh.

TATTOOS: WoL tattoo on the palm of his right hand. (Working on giving him another)

HEIGHT: 7'4

WEIGHT: 330 LBS/ 150kg

BUILD: Tall, Muscular, Fit,

FEATURES: None

ALLERGIES: None, at least not yet.

USUAL HAIRSTYLE: Long hair parted in the middle framing the face. Pulled into a ponytail and held with a silver bead big enough for the tail.

USUAL FACE LOOK: Around 40% expressionless, 30% Scowling, 20% Reflective, 10% happy.

USUAL CLOTHING: Higher end clothing generally a mix of casual with formal preferring long pants and a short sleeved shirt. Boots of some kind and armor of some kind at all times. Either under or over the clothes having a preference for the bulkier armors.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR(S): Dying and thereby becoming unable to prevent future deaths and incidents. A fear of the unknown. (Which is part of why he tries to prepare for so many things)

ASPIRATION(S): Being able to amass enough wealth to live comfortably and to continue making the lives of the less fortunate easier. Helping create a better society for all.

POSITIVE TRAITS: Empathetic, Compassionate, Humanitarian, Perseverance, Fairness, Courageous, Loving, Self discipline, Reliable, Thoughtful, Patient

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Bossy, Jealous, Secretive, Grumpy, Harsh, Aloof, Stubborn, Cruel (Only to enemies but that doesn't really matter to people does it?) Arrogant (In some things though less now)

ZODIAC: Pisces

TEMPERAMENT: Mix of choleric and melancholic.

SOUL TYPE(S):  King, Warrior, Server (In that order)

ANIMALS: Raven, Bear

VICE HABIT(S): Training, Fixing machines, Drinking, Rubbing Chin, 

FAITH: The Twelve (Loosely)

GHOSTS?: I mean if you've seen them you can't deny them.

AFTERLIFE?: With everything we see there has to be right?

REINCARNATION?: Yes, it's clear there is.

ALIENS?: Yes.

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: Leftist

ECONOMIC PREFERENCE: Prosperous, everyone has what they need. Along with the means to go beyond that if they are willing and able.

SOCIO POLITICAL POSITION: I think there’s enough to go on.

EDUCATION LEVEL: Higher end of the spectrum, attended sharlayan schooling for a few years of his life. (Around three) Was home taught and by other teachers. Extensive knowledge in numerous subjects such as Machinery, Technology, Gunsmithing, Gemology, Business. Holding the equivalent of a mixture of Graduate or Masters in the subjects.

FAMILY.

FATHER: Kyran Layarte

MOTHER: Sahar Layarte

SIBLINGS: Kyari Layarte

EXTENDED FAMILY:

NAME MEANING(S): Ranier (Rainier with out the first I Meaning Wise army apparently)Kyran (Beam of Light) Sahar (Early morning or Dawn) Kyari (???)

HISTORICAL CONNECTION?: My families connection to history? My connection? My father was one of the survivors of the hotgo tribe also. Does fighting in the Calamity among all the other events count?

FAVORITES.

BOOK: Whatever has his current interest, it can very.

MOVIE PLAY: Does this mean Movie or Play?

5 SONGS:

• “Shock me” Baroness

• “Up In The Air” Thirty Seconds To Mars

• “Rise” League of Legends, Glitch Mob, The Word Alive

• “Unbreakable” Of Mice and Men

• “Drown” Bring Me The Horizon

DEITY: Halone

HOLIDAY: Valentione's day

MONTH: March

SEASON: Fall

PLACE: Beside his wife or workshop.

WEATHER: Light rain

SOUND: The turning of pages, the sound of rain, metal moving against each other.

SCENT(S): Smoke, Metal, Old books, and sweat

TASTE(S):  Dulcet, Spicy,

FEEL(S): Rocks, Silk, Smooth metals,

ANIMAL(S): This was listed before.

NUMBER: 1? I don't know.

COLORS: Black, Blue, Red, Gold, Silver

EXTRA.

TALENTS: Metalworking, Singing, Sewing, Gem Cutting, Technology, Smithing, Machinery, Dexterous.

BAD AT: Getting rest even now, Not over exerting himself, Not overthinking potential scenarios that may never happen. Dealing with almost all animals, Even now sometimes talking about what bothers him too well, but he’s gotten much better over the years/expansions.

TURN ONS: Caring, Helpful, Courageous, Educated, Aggressive. Listening, Reliable, 

TURN OFFS: Selfishness, Boastful, Belligerent, Cruelty, Intolerant, Racism, Weak willed, Careless,

HOBBIES: Creating new things be it machines, armor, clothes, weapons, tools, etc. Working on the same as before. Reading, Exercising, Cooking. Shopping.

TROPES: Pragmatic Hero, Bad ass boast, Big Fancy House, Chekhov's Gun, Determinator, Don't You Dare Pity Me, Genius Bruiser, Heroic Build, It's All My Fault, No Challenge Equals No Satisfaction, Super toughness, Friend to All Children, The Chosen One, The Ace, Ain't Too Proud To Beg, Always Save The Girl, Berserk Button, Death glare, Excuse me while I multi task, Game face, Hypocrite, Lady and Knight, Not So Stoic, Not So Invincible After all, Red Eyes, Take Warning, Stern Teacher, Undying Loyalty, The Power of Love

AESTHETIC TAGS: Workshops, Tools, Kitchens, Weaponry, Guns, Armor, Fine Clothes, Rain, Feathers, Azure Skies, Romance.

VOICE CLAIM(S): Keith Silverstein, (Speaking voice) John Rzeznik (Singing) John Baizley (Singing)

FC INFO.

MAIN  FC(S): Free company? Azure Talons.

ALT FC(S): What?

OLDER FC(S): What?

YOUNGER  FC(S): What?

GENDERBENT FC(S): What the fuck?

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1: IF YOU COULD WRITE YOUR CHARACTER YOUR WAY IN THEIR OWN MOVIE, WHAT WOULD IT BE CALLED, WHAT STYLE WOULD IT BE FILMED IN, AND WHAT WOULD IT BE ABOUT?:

• I genuinely don’t know. Something with the grandeur of lord of the rings maybe? But with the ability to add comedy and romance in the proper way. I'm all for serious movies but I enjoy the ability to add a well executed joke or sweet moment. It also would probably not just be a single film. Taking the general events and using my fics as material would probably be fine.

I’d have to think about it a lot more than I will right now

As for the name, well, I don't really have many options. But, probably something with Final Fantasy XIV as the main title. Give it a JRPG title I suppose as a sub title. Sort of like Warriors Dissonance or Uncovered Stories.

Q2: WHAT WOULD THEIR SOUNDTRACK / SCORE SOUND LIKE?:

• Ambient, switching to full of energy, able to convey emotion. Again mentioning LOTR, the score by Howard shore is really great and able to accompany many scenes in such a fantastic manner. As for the other bits perhaps the addition of artist tracks such as from favorite bands and those songs that have meaning to him. Like the ones listed above. 

Q3: WHY DID YOU START WRITING THIS CHARACTER?:

• As a way to work on and show that, a character doesn't just have to be overly reliant on tropes and cliches. That those are good as part of them but not as defining traits of them. Along with breaking some of those. Like how all protagonists always have dead parents, what's up with that? I enjoy seeing characters that try to break their molds and be more than that.

Q4: WHAT FIRST ATTRACTED YOU TO THIS CHARACTER?:

• My general thing in any game where you can create your own character has always been. To make who you'd want to be in this universe. I did that and then worked on it and reworked things until I got what I have now. So also, yes, he was a self insert.

Q5: DESCRIBE THE BIGGEST THING YOU DISLIKE ABOUT YOUR MUSE:

• Hard one I suppose but. I'd say how he is capable of doing so much. Even though I work with it as it is a key part of him, it's still hard to make him feel right, feel human when he's got these clear incredible strengths. He's very proficient at so many things some would maybe say he's a mary sue type of character. I make an effort to work on how he became that way to offset it. So it's a lot of extra work than if I had him being a more archetypal hero of his type. I may dislike this the most but I also like it. Love hate relationship you know?

Q6: WHAT DO YOU HAVE IN COMMON WITH YOUR MUSE?:

• A good part of our attitudes and personality though on his end they are greater generally. Along with our want to be as best as we can at certain things. 

Q7: HOW DOES YOUR MUSE FEEL ABOUT YOU?:

• Honestly, and in my current state. He would probably be very upset with me and to just know me or the hand I have in his creation and self.

Q8: WHAT CHARACTERS DOES YOUR MUSE HAVE INTERESTING INTERACTIONS WITH?

• Alisaie Leveilleur – She is the main one being his main love interest, girlfriend, and wife later. Though overall he sees her as an equal and a partner, which is part of the reason their relationship grows as much as it does. Along with giving someone who he can trust in and rely on, and vice versa.

• Finn Hogveart - Who harasses Ranier often enough especially with his pet and regarding moogles.

• Alphinaud Leveilleur - and him sometimes get along strangely due to Ranier's relationship with his sister. For a long time he tried to spy on Ranier and make sure he was good for his sister even though he knew he was a good person.

•  Cid Garlond - Ranier sees him as a mentor of sorts, along with someone that he can bounce ideas off of and work with on projects leading to a solid relationship between the two. The two sometimes bicker regarding their work but it's always just them being passionate for the projects.

• Gerolt Blackthorn – Similar to cid in some ways. Ranier looks up to Gerolt and his ability to continue making such amazing creations. Wanting to learn more regarding the processes means Ranier visits him when possible, bringing some drinks for him when he does. Almost having a relationship like bros. Ranier also sometimes has gone to try and sway Rowena on his behalf to lower his debt.

There are more but I don’t want to make this too much longer.

Q9: WHAT GIVES YOU INSPIRATION TO WRITE YOUR MUSE?

• I do not control the write, also Alisaie.

Q10: HOW LONG DID THIS TAKE YOU TO COMPLETE?:

Uhhhh maybe an hour all together. Over the course of three hours.

==========

Tagged by: @amandafullmetal​ @lyllyan-weiss

Tagging: @heyafinney​ @anikisbox​ and anyone who wants to do it that sees this.

[ryqoshay]

HtHaN Side Story: Unsent - To Honoka

Primary Pairing: TsubaHono Side Pairing: EreAnju Words: ~850 Rating: K Time Frame: Close to Honoka’s graduation from high school Story Arc: Stand Alone Set: “Unsent” To Maki (HtHaN) To Nico (HtHaN) To Riko (HL) To Yoshiko (HL) To Honoka (HtHaN) To Kanan and Dia (HL) To Hanayo (HtHaN)

List of all HtHaN scenes

Author’s Note: This is the fifth of what was to be four entries in a set I am calling Unsent. The idea was inspired by a contest over on Sukutomo to write a love letter to one of the idols. This is also my first of what I hope to be several Side Stories that will focus on the other pairings in the HtHaN world.

Dear Honoka,

You are like the sun. Your brilliant smile radiates warmth that I cannot help basking in. You illuminate my world and I wish to follow like a sunflower.

Tsubasa laughed lightly to herself as she realized she had just reworked lyrics to one of the songs sung by the girl to whom the letter was addressed. But the song had always resonated with her and there was truth in the words she had just written, so she continued.

I have met many enthusiastic people, but none whose energy was so inspiring. None whose smile never fails to make me smile as well. And I doubt I will ever tire of seeing you smile or get excited about something or jump for joy or run headlong toward some new goal. Or just of seeing you.

No sooner do we part than I want to see you again. Every time. Not a day goes by that I do not look forward to the next time I get to see you. From me teaching you how to skate to you teaching me how to bake, from karaoke sessions to movies and from simple snacks to full course meals. All of it is a wonderful adventure leaving me anxious for the next chapter.

Words cannot express my joy that you and your friends continued to be school idols, despite µ’s disbanding. Sharing the stage with you again was honestly the highlight of my year. I am aware that your time as an idol will soon be coming to an end and you will begin focusing your energies on taking over your family business. However, I sincerely hope you will consider my offer to appear as a special guest with Anju, Erena and I from time to time. The fans would love it. I would love it.

Love… A wistful smile came to Tsubasa’s lips. For a letter of this nature, she should probably mention it more. But how? Should she just say it outright? Would it disrupt the flow of things to do so? She sighed. Perhaps it didn’t matter. It wasn’t like she was going to deliver the letter anyway.

I love you. I wish I could bring myself to tell you in person, but I have good reasons for avoiding doing so. Well, at least I hope they’re good reasons. But where I am now, my decisions no longer affect only me. Perhaps someday, conditions will change such that I might be more open with my feelings for you. Someday. And until that day comes, I hope you will continue to let me be a part of your life. I hope you will allow me to continue to bask in your radiant warmth.

Thank you, Honoka, for being my sun.

Yours truly, Tsubasa

“Ah, there you are.” A voice came from the door.

Tsubasa looked up. “Anju?”

“We’re ready to head to practice when you are.” The auburn-haired girl glanced down at the paper in front of the other girl. “Another letter to Honoka-chan?”

“Yeah…”

Anju sighed and offered a sympathetic smile. “You really should deliver them one of these days.”

“I know…”

“She’d be thrilled. And if she was even half as excited as you said she was when you gave her chocolates back on Valentine’s Day, she’ll probably run laps around the nearest building when you finally ask her out.”

Tsubasa chuckled at the mental image, but… “I think you’re thinking of Rin.”

“But Rin-chan is quite taken.” Anju pointed out.

“No, that’s not quite…” Tsubasa shook her head. “Never mind.”

“Still worried about a scandal that might bring down A-RISE?”

The brunette pursed her lips. “It’s not my career I’m worried about.” She admitted.

“Did you find her?” another voice asked from the hallway.

“Erena-chan.” Anju smiled, greeting her girlfriend.

The tallest member of A-RISE stepped into the room. “Another one?” She inquired, immediately spying the letter. “You really need to tell just her.”

“That’s what I was just trying to say.” Anju nodded. “But she’s still worried about how it will affect us.”

“Don’t.” Erena said bluntly.

Tsubasa balked.

“Anju and I have talked a lot about this. We’ve had a good run together, but if continuing means preventing you from being happy with someone like Honoka, then it may be time to retire.”

“Erena…” The leader of A-RISE breathed.

“Obviously, we’re happy to continue with A-RISE as long as we can.” Anju added. “And we’ll do what we can to keep your relationship a secret like we do ours. But whatever happens, happens. Don’t hold back with her for our sake. We’ll support you two however we can.”

“Anju…” Tsubasa looked back and forth between her two best friends, seeing nothing but encouraging smiles. She took a deep breath. “Alright. Maybe once she graduates in a few weeks.”

“At the ceremony.” Anju suggested.

“Yeah… that sounds like a good plan.” Tsubasa smiled. “I’ll do that.”

“Great.” Erena nodded curtly. “Now can we get on to practice? Anju and I have dinner plans later.”

“Of course.” Tsubasa laughed, stood and made her way over to the other two. “Let’s go.”

Author’s Note Continued: I’ve read that Tsubasa isn’t one to care about the popularity of A-RISE or losing fans and as such, I’ve read several fics that bring this belief into play. But that was back in high school. That was back when she was an idol because she wanted to be an idol. Back when she didn’t have to keep the higher ups of a production company happy. Back when money, profit and bottom lines were not involved. Becoming a professional idol is different. I hope her change in attitude here makes sense in the context given.

Also, I must admit that as much fun as I had writing this, it definitely feels strange writing a scene for a NicoMaki fic that makes no mention whatsoever of either of them. At least one Side Story, that unfortunately remains a WIP for the time being, does involve the vitriolic pair.

And ideas are still brewing for this contest, so perhaps I might write a sixth of four, or even a seventh? And while the idea of eventually writing a whole set of eighteen - twenty-three if I am to include A-RISE and Saint Snow* - is amusing, there are a few girls who I have trouble imagining writing love letters. As always, I’ll see where my µ’s muse takes me.

*Even more if I am to include PDP. However, I am nowhere near as familiar with these new girls as I am with the girls of µ’s or Aqours. However, I am looking forward to All Stars to give me more ideas for more scenes to write.

[gregorygerwitz]

WIP asks! 2, 4, 7

My current WIPs: folklore anthology, father’s day fic 2020 (yes i know it’s almost October), carnival verse pt 3, boyfriend material fitzward au, alternate 6x09 trevordeke scene

2. Post a line from your WIP with no context

This is from my father’s day 2020 fic, because that’s the only thing that has anything written for it. And I know it’s supposed to be without context but you should all know that Holden Radcliffe is the one speaking because he should be shamed:

"I'm sorry, time travel? And you want me to help you with something? That is so... radical." He seemed positively giddy at the prospect, and the level of enthusiasm was almost enough for Fitz to ignore the contemporary slang.

4. Describe the setting of your WIP.

For the boyfriend material au: SHIELD and Hydra exist, but in the background. the story itself takes place away from the drama of spy organizations and explores more mundane lives, so to speak. main “scenes” are going to be Leo’s apartment, Grant’s apartment, the Ward family home (yeah there’s gonna be family drama), the lab that Leo and Jemma work at, and a specific restaurant. I’m still fleshing out this story, so I don’t have a lot of detail at the moment.

7. What are you most proud of?

The folklore anthology as a whole, honestly. That took days to plot out after folklore dropped, and then I felt like I was completely reworking the second half of the story every week to keep it as aligned with canon as i could up until the end. The fact that I’ve put in that much work and created something coherent that I feel like I can actually finish is a huge accomplishment considering how many AUs I’ve abandoned over the years.

[shadowsong26fic]

Index Post

This list will be updated as and when I remember to. My fanfiction is primarily hosted on AO3 (though I do have an old FFN account if you can find it), but I figured this would be a good idea/make things easier to find, especially for the content that’s Tumblr-exclusive, as well as my original fiction which is hosted elsewhere.

Stories marked with an * are complete.

My AO3

Star Wars:

Precipice

An AU in which Anakin Skywalker does not follow Mace Windu and the others to Palpatine’s office after they leave to arrest the Chancellor. As a result, he doesn’t get that final push over the edge, and doesn’t Fall.

…well, that’s where it starts, anyway. Our Heroes reunite with some old friends and pick up some new ones; Sidious find substitute apprentices…the story continues on for several years after the breakpoint, with the Rebellion gradually taking shape and the twins growing up, as well.

Content warnings for war, genocide, strongly implied child abuse (not from any of Our Heroes; Palpatine is raising a child), the Emperor is a POV character.

On AO3

Bonus Fic 1: Father’s Day; Untitled*

Bonus Fic 2: 100k; Margins*

Bonus Fic 3: One Year Anniversary; Secrets*

Bonus Fic 4: Valentine’s Day; All My Love, - A*

Bonus Fic 5: Mother’s Day; Untitled*

Meta, answered asks, deleted scenes, etc., can be found in the Precipice Verse tag

Updates (theoretically/ideally) approximately once every week/two weeks, usually somewhere between Thursday and Sunday night.

I have been on semi-hiatus for the past few months due to getting super-busy at work and then Moving, but I’m planning to get back on track for June, so we should be back to regular updates in the near future! ::...knocks on wood::

Distaff

In which Anakin Skywalker is a cis lady and the twins' gestating parent.

This story’s working title was The Crack AU That Takes Itself Too Seriously. In essence, Anakin Skywalker is a cis girl. So is Padme. Anakin still somehow gets pregnant. She is very confused. Everyone is very confused. And then ROTS happens...

Content warnings for war/violence; also, while no one is, has been, or will be assaulted, the topic of sexual assault does come up a couple times. I believe I’ve left a note on all the chapters where it comes up.

On AO3

Bonus Fic: Mother’s Day; Untitled*

Meta, answered asks, etc., can be found in the Distaff tag

Updates as and when I complete material, does not have a fixed schedule.

Masks

A near-canon AU in which Emperor Palpatine has a daughter.

An In Spite of a Nail AU, for the most part; though I tend to operate in a blended Legends/official canon. For those of you who follow Precipice, this is essentially Lavinia’s story if she existed in a canon-aligned timeline, rather than a true AU.

On AO3

Meta, answered asks, etc., can be found in the Masks Verse tag

CURRENTLY ON HIATUS

Auxiliaries

This is an AU in which Queen Amidala’s ship stopped someplace other than Tatooine for repairs. (The rest of TPM goes basically as in canon–someone else blew up the control ship, I’m sort of handwaving that detail, at least for now).

Eventual ObiAniDala; either Anakin-centered vee or full triad, I haven’t decided. There will also be at least one key OC involved, though I haven’t actually introduced her yet. This is the most divergent timeline I’ve written (or probably will write) for SW, but I have a lot of fun with it.

Auxiliaries is a little different from how my other stories are structured, in that it’ll be told as a series of short fics/vignettes in the overall AU (the title of which will be explained in later sections), not necessarily in chronological order.

General content warnings for war/violence/slavery; anything else that comes up in a specific story will be tagged accordingly.

A Day at the Races: Part One; Part Two [upcoming]; Part Three [upcoming]

                  Around three years after the Naboo Crisis, Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi is sent on a mission to Malastare, and meets a certain champion podracer for the first time…

Bout*

              Five years after meeting Anakin Skywalker on Malastare, Obi-Wan is back at the Temple, observing a senior initiate saber class.

Updates as and when I complete material, does not have a fixed schedule.

The Phoenix

About halfway between The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi, Luke and Vader crash onto a planet that is essentially a typical fantasy world.

A crossover with my original fantasy world, The Farglass Cycle

Content warnings for some body horror, slavery, impending genocide, some mostly oblique references to previous genocide, other violence.

On AO3*

On Dreamwidth*

In theory, there are two other parts to this story, working titles The Caladrius and The Hercinia. I do intend to put them up eventually and have been poking at them off and on, but do not have an estimated completion/start date or anything at this time. So it’s less a hiatus and more a…waiting for the next season to start, I guess…?

AU Outlines

Heralds of Star Wars (Jedi of Valdemar?)

              Crossover/fusion with the Heralds of Valdemar series.

The Rabbit Hole AU: Part One; Part Two

               Temple-raised Palpatine

Bail Unfucks the Timeline

               Exactly what it says on the tin.

Distaff Variant 1a

               A Distaff AU in which Palpatine’s solution to the problems presented by Anakin’s pregnancy is to poison her and induce a miscarriage because yes I do in fact write AUs for my AUs. CW for discussion of miscarriage/abortion, as well as the same as the main/actual story.

Ventress and Her Tiny Time-Travelling Conscience: Part One; Part Two

               In which ten/twelve-year-old Luke Skywalker walks through a Magic Canyon and lands about a year/year and a half before the end of the Clone Wars.

Everyone Is Time-Travelling and No One Will Admit It

               Okay, okay, so the title is a little bit disingenuous; the entire PT trio is time-travelling (but they’re the only ones), Anakin and Obi-Wan have told each other but no one else, and Padme is keeping things entirely to herself. CW for some portions that could read as suicidal ideation (i.e., the last like ten minutes of the animated BatB movie ‘maybe it’s better this way,’ with a side of Act Five of Cyrano de Bergerac.)

               (Also, I may end up redoing/reworking this one at some point)

Distaff Variant 2

                 A distaff AU in which Anakin decides to go to Utapau with Obi-Wan. Which, if she weren’t, y’know, pregnant, would probably have been the best possible thing for her to do...

Let’s Go Steal a Crossover: Part One (Background); Part Two [Upcoming]

                 A crossover between an AU of Masks!Verse (specifically, the Lavinia Organa AU, the background for which is described in Part One above) and Leverage.

You can also check out the AU Outlines tag

One-Shots:

Sanctuary: Tumblr; AO3*

              Rey wants to find her place in all of this. When she finds a reference to Mortis in one of Luke's books, it seems as good good place as any to start looking…

To his family, send him*

                In a world where Shmi survived, Obi-Wan brings Luke to safety.

It’s Like Déjà Vu (All Over Again)*

                 Three days ago, Padme Amidala closed her eyes for the last time in a sterile white room on an asteroid at the edge of nowhere. Three days ago, she opened them again in a sleek, chrome starship, watching Dorme put the finishing touches on Corde’s headdress, her own weighted braids a comforting blanket on her back.

                Padme decides to change things, decides she can save Anakin this time. Except, as time passes, she starts to realize things aren’t happening exactly the way she remembers…

                   Content warnings for war, violence, referenced genocide, referenced murder, these two dorks and their AOTC angst…

The Magic of Midwinter*

                  A little more than a year after the start of the Clone Wars, Padme, Obi-Wan, and Anakin celebrate Naboo's Midwinter together.

                  Written for JediFest 2017 December Drabbles exchange; Prompt: ObiAniDala, Holiday

These Three Remain*

                  Immediately after the Festival of Light (and Obi-Wan's stint undercover as bounty hunter Rako Hardeen), Anakin and Padme leave Coruscant on impulse, in response to an anonymous tip sent to Padme's office about vital intelligence hidden in a cache of stolen goods. But things go terribly wrong, and they find themselves stranded and injured, with limited resources and no one knowing exactly where they are.

                  Meanwhile, back on Coruscant, when Padme and Anakin don't return as planned, Obi-Wan does everything he can to find them and bring them home.

                  Their situation, dire though it is, forces the three of them to process everything that just happened, and what it might mean for their relationship, moving forward.

                     Written for SWBB 2018.

Untitled Mother’s Day Ficlet*

                       Quick, meditative little ficlet about Shmi and Anakin and lullabyes/bedtime stories.

Original Fiction:

The Farglass Cycle

This one is very difficult to summarize. It’s a big, sprawling fantasy world with loads and loads of characters. The main plot has to do with a war with Feredar, one of the major nations on the continent. Principal characters involve certain members of the Feredar royal family, members of the royal family of the City of Glass, who are primarily fire-mages; a water-mage pirate captain and her lover and sister; a water-mage who was held captive in Feredar...The war is kicked off when a prince from Glass goes into Feredar as a spy, to find out if the situation there regarding the enslavement of mages is serious enough to justify a war.

Content warnings for war, violence, slavery, impending genocide. There’s also a serial killer subplot, and some espionage and murder.

(...I need to get better at summarizing things...)

This archive, as a note, is incredibly out of date—I think I last updated it in December of 2014.

Lux

It’s the thirtieth century, and the Biblical Apocalypse is about to begin. Translator Mariko Anders gets swept up in the action when she meets and falls in love with the titular Lux, an Alien whose species she can’t quite identify. There’s also an immortal wandering around who periodically gets his memories erased, a sprawling human Family that traces itself back a thousand years, the newly-awakened Horsemen, the Antichrist and the Second Coming are growing up in hiding, and, of course, angels—some terrifying, some warm, some a little bit of both.

Basically: the Apocalypse. In Space.

(With lesbians.)

(Archive last updated in December of 2014.)

Battlestar Galactica:

Serenissima

Joseph Adama is the Doge of Venice, which is in graceful decline from its peak of maritime economic and naval power. His younger grandson, Zak, has recently eloped to King Louis' court in France with one Kara Thrace, and a dangerous politician, Thomas Zarek, is soon to return from a twenty-year exile related to the untimely death of a previous Doge.

Between Don Zarek's imminent return and the likely imminent increase in the Serene Republic's long-standing rivalry with the Ottoman Empire, Doge Adama wants to shore up a few alliances. He arranges for Laura Roslin, a widowed noblewoman, to marry his similarly-widowed son, Commander William Adama. His elder grandson, Lee Adama, is likewise engaged to the young daughter of Cardinal Gaius Baltar. The first wedding is to take place immediately, the second in approximately a year.

In Istanbul, the Sultan, John Cavil, is indeed scheming and preparing to launch a massive attack on Venice, while internal politics within his own family and court may not be quite as clear-cut as he thinks.There are spies everywhere, and nothing is certain but that looming problems foreign and domestic promise trouble for the Serene Republic in days to come...

A Total AU set in Baroque Venice, somewhere between 1650 and 1750. One key OC is involved, because I like my OCs. Cowritten with tigerkat24.

Currently more or less on hiatus.

For Sorrow Sung

Nineteen days before Baltar's trial is set to begin, a teenage girl is shot just outside of Dogsville. Helo investigates.

CURRENTLY ON HIATUS

Nothing AO3; Livejournal*

Alternate ending to Crossroads: you never know how you'll meet the end until there's nowhere left to run.

End of Line*

Poetry; stream-of-consciousness in prison, persona poem.

[I believe that’s everything I actually posted; I may update this if I find something else digging through my archives. I know I wrote some bits that I never posted anywhere for various reasons]

Supernatural:

Note: I’ve more or less fallen out of this fandom, so pretty much everything listed here can be considered on semi-permanent hiatus; though I’m happy to discuss them if anyone’s interested.

Heaven on Their Minds

An In Spite of a Nail AU where Judas Iscariot is a key player.

Arc One: Livejournal; AO3*

                  While Castiel tracks Crowley down, looking for the Colt, Bobby finds a reference to a Weapon that can banish anything. Seeing a shot at a Plan B, Sam and Dean go to meet with a professor who might be able to help them track it down. From there, they are put on the trail of Judas Iscariot, who is not exactly what history claimed he was.

Arc Two*

                  It's been eighteen months since Lucifer and Michael were trapped in the Cage, and Sam now has his soul back at last, but things aren't going as smoothly as hoped. With the war between Raphael and Castiel heating up, Gabriel scrambling to keep his old lies from coming back to haunt him, Judas AWOL, and whispers about Purgatory floating around, it isn't going to be easy to keep things from totally falling apart at the seams. Again.

                  Then, one day, Dean gets a call from Jo about an old friend wandering back into their lives...

Arc Three*

                  Gabriel is struggling to control the chaos in Heaven in the wake of Castiel’s destruction. Meanwhile, with Castiel gone, his wall gone, Lucifer and Leviathan everywhere, Sam gets closer to Judas. After all, no one knows psychic pain, and guilt, and the long, hard road to redemption, better than the two of them.

Sidestories

                  These are bits and pieces that take place in the Heaven on Their Minds universe, but, for various reasons, didn’t make it into the main story. All of the ones up there take place either prior to or during Arc One, but reference a significant spoiler.

There were further arcs planned, but I don’t anticipate them turning up, due to the aforementioned falling out of the fandom.

The Promises of Angels: Livejournal; AO3*

Nick has never been anything more than a pawn, and he knows that--but even a pawn, strategically placed, can change the game for everyone.

It's a world full of angels, demons, and humans all fighting for control of the board. And while all he's really playing for is what he was promised in the first place--peace that never seems to come--Nick finds himself dragged back into a high-stakes game he can't afford to lose. No matter how much he wants to break free, it becomes increasingly clear that something buried deep inside him has changed, in ways he can't possibly understand; ways that just might keep him involved in the horrors that Heaven and Hell both inflict on humanity and, in the end, make things better--or worse. Along the way, there are friends and foes, wardens and protectors, and those who would try to use him to shape the future they want to see...

This is canon compliant until, depending on how you’re counting, Swan Song or Goodbye, Stranger; most of what happens up through Goodbye, Stranger could theoretically happen alongside canon events/doesn’t contradict anything we see onscreen, but sets up the significant AU from that point on.

There were originally sequels planned, but as I’ve largely fallen out of this fandom, I doubt they’ll materialize.

Cartography Verse

Named for the Seanan McGuire song.

Moving On*

                  While Dean is in Purgatory and Sam is in Texas, Jody joins a grief support group and stumbles onto a case. Canon-compliant through 10x23.

Compliance*

                  Three years after meeting Nick, Jody learns the rest of his story. Canon-compliant through 10x23.

Fragments: Livejournal; AO3*

                  In an attempt to talk Sam out of seeking Lucifer’s help with the Darkness, Dean tracks down the next best thing on Earth--Nick. As it turns out, he’s closer than they think, and the trace of Grace left in him when he was dispossessed may be vital to defeating the Darkness. Unfortunately, Sam and Dean are not the only ones chasing Archangel fragments, and at least one other person on the trail seems willing to kill Nick to get what they need...

the summers die; one by one: Livejournal; AO3*

                  The aftermath of Hammer of the Gods. CW for discussion of canonical character death.

Avatar: the Last Airbender

UNDER CONSTRUCTION. I’ve more or less fallen out of this fandom, as well, though there’s a chance I’ll get back to it at some point. Almost everything I wrote was one-shots, and they’re scattered around in several different places. I don’t expect to put out any new content in this fandom for the foreseeable future.

I’ll probably dig around and put together a specific link list at some point, but for now, a lot of it is on AO3, some of it is on my LJ, under the avatar tag 

Miscellania

Lighter than a Feather*

               Wheel of Time fanfic;  The night after Rand and Nynaeve cleanse the taint from saidin, Mazrim Taim goes to deal with an Asha'man who recently snapped. CW for murder and saidin-taint madness. Some alternate character interpretations, as well. Spoilers through Winter’s Heart.

              This was originally going to be the springoff point for a much longer AU. I don’t know if I’ll ever write it, even if I fall back into this fandom, but I may take some of the concepts/plans and file the serial numbers off for an original fantasy story.

The Epic Crossover RP OF DOOM

               (I linked the Tumblr tag because it’s easier)

               A crossover between Precipice, Marvel/MCU, BSG, The West Wing, Castle (technically), Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries, The Daisy Dalrymple Mysteries, Thin Man, Thrilling Adventure Hour: Beyond Belief, and The Phantom of the Opera.

               Cowritten/RP’d with tigerkat24. OCs abound.

The Blood to be Repaid*

               A crossover between The Farglass Cycle and Pirates of the Carribean

Support of Family*

               Sequel to The Blood to be Repaid

The Hands of Cain*

               A crossover between The Farglass Cycle and Criminal Minds

[lotornomiko]

The Sacrificial Maiden Overhauled Edition Chapter One (Slightly not safe for work due to implied acts of violence.)

Rufus Alicia pairing. Her name is Alana, and just as she thought she was about to die, he appeared to save her. He says that he loves her and calls her by a different name, holding her prisoner in his home, waiting for the day that she will remember her past life with him.

A complete reworking of an old RuAli fic of mine, rating will go up eventually...Years have passed since Alicia's sacrifice, and though he has tried his best to stay away, other forces are at work, reuniting Rufus with the reincarnation of his lost love...

  Her breath matched pace with her steps, every exaggerated rasp for air a reminder of just how out of shape she was. Her legs, while long and limber, had never had such need before, the young woman running as though the hounds of Hel were after her. With that forward momentum, with the rough forest outskirts abrading the tender flesh of her bare feet, Alana could only squeeze out a whimper, trying to ignore the way her entire body hurt. It screamed with that pain, forced its demands to stop upon her, and still she kept running.

She wasn’t the only one. In the pandemonium that had beset her quiet little community, there was screams and there was howls, a panicked people scurrying. Seeking a safety that wasn’t there, the village Coriander far removed from their neighbors, from the cities with their heavy guard, nothing but farmland and forest for miles to see. This once peaceful landscape made for easy pickings to the group who had besieged the townsfolk, food, drink and women aplenty for the voracious hungers of the men on the prowl.

There wasn’t much else to be had. Coriander wasn’t a rich village in the traditional sense. They and Alana had all lived a modest but happy life, the community one of farmers, merchants, and herbalists. They lived off the land, reap the blessings of a fertile earth, and were rich not in money but in friendship and family. A close knit group, the people were the type who smiled first, and offered help immediately after, no problem too big for them to solve together. Until THEY came, that small but sizable army of marauders, men on horseback and on foot, with steel blade and ice in their veins.

Robbers, killers and rapists, they should have been a rag tag bunch. Gathered together as they were, lawless and driven by their own selfish desires, somehow they had organized as a united front, unleashing chaos and devastation upon the village. Already some men had been killed, the upheaval such that Alana didn’t know if any of her family had yet been spared that fate. She prayed for them all the same, for her father and her brothers, but also for that of her neighbors. For their safety and their souls, the young woman not sure which was needed more.

She might have even spared a moment to pray for herself, Alana low on a long list of priorities. The young woman kept on running, kept on remembering other people that needed a blessing more than her. Completely selfless in the moment, with the very breath burning in her lungs, with it escaping out in wheezing pants that actually HURT, Alana ran and prayed for a salvation that wasn’t coming. With the ground itself against her, twigs and branches lacerating open her foot, Alana cried out as she fell to her knees.

“GO!” She cried out, to the young girl who had stopped besides her. “Save yourself!”

The indecision played out on the girl’s face, the fright alive in her sky blue colored eyes, but there was slivers of concern mixed into her expression, sweet soul that she was stubbornly shaking her head no. “I won’t leave you, Alana!”

Frustration boiled inside her, but there was also a relief, selfish though that was, Alana not wanting to face their pursuers alone. It was because chief among all her emotions, was that of fear, the young woman frightened, scared witless at the thought of the fate that would surely befall her. The terror in her blood, she still tried to make the other girl leave, Alana not about to let the sister of one of her dearest friends be raped or worse.

“Go!” She shouted, trying to give a much needed push. “I will catch up with you soon enough!” The lie was desperate, Alana knowing that lame as she now was, there would be little walking, let alone running, in her near future. Not with her foot bleeding, the ankle possible twisted, Alana at that last of her pained reserves. Her chest heaved with her panting breaths, a chill upon her skin from the night’s cold air mixing with the sweat of her exertions. She wasn’t dressed to be outside, none of them were, the marauders having arrived in the dead of the night.

With shouts and with that wickedly cruel laughter, they had descended on Coriander. They hadn’t even tried to be subtle or quiet, kicking in doors, grabbing at women, slicing up any and all who tried to interfere. Alana’s house would have suffered the same if not for the fact it had been deep enough in the village, for her entire family to rouse at the screams from the outskirts. Those shrill sounds and abrasive howls, had set them on alert, they and some of their neighbors rushing out of their homes straight into the worst kind of nightmare.

Women carried off, men slain, houses burning, Alana had done as her father had ordered, taking off for the woods. Fast as she and those that accompanied her tried to be, their bare feet were no match for the riders on horseback. Even now they were baring down on them, Alana again giving her friend’s sister a much needed push. “GO!”

The young girl whimpered with that awful indecision, and then the dog—a wolf from the looks of it, tackled her to the ground. There was a scream from both Alana and the child, the wolf holding the girl down, teeth bared and growling. Alana didn’t know what to do, what to say, a helpless sound escaping her, and then another wolf was on top of her. She couldn’t even gasp, couldn’t even cry out, her eyes going impossibly large. The yellow gleam of the wolf’s eyes stared into hers, the animal baring it’s teeth with a growl. It left Alana holding absolutely still, the wolf settling its full weight atop her. Past her ran men, and horses, and even more wolves, no one stopping to check on the pinned females.

“Alana...” Came the whispered whimper. “I’m...”

“It’s all right, Sybilline...Just stay still and it won’t hurt you...” Alana tried to be reassuring, hearing the way the young girl broke out into sobs. She wanted to cry herself, so scared and so frightened, so hurting and above all so tired. She’d outright faint from exhaustion, if not for the fear pumping adrenaline through her, Alana keeping a helpless eye on the wolf who growled each time she so much as dared THINK about moving.

Alana and Sybilline would lay there, pinned by those fierce beasts for hours on end. Until at last the dark midnight sky started to give way to the first rosy hue hints of morning. Those wolves never lost their resolve, keeping a watchful eye on their quarry. The tension in those creatures’ bodies wouldn’t leave until a whistle sounded, the wolf’s ears pricking upward at hearing it. The change that came over them was almost immediate, a kind of relaxed energy to them as they slowly sauntered free of their prey. It was not an end to the nightmare, not by any bit, hands then grabbing at the two girls. Sybilline shrieked wildly, and Alana was ashamed to admit she didn’t do much better, struggling as best she could, while crying out for help of any kind.

There was a slap to the face in answer to that. Alana stunned and seeing stars. She was practically dead weight, as she was hauled up off the forested ground, the young woman screaming again in protest as the pain flared up from her foot. She couldn’t stand, she could barely even walk, Alana slumping over to the sound of a man’s cursing. The vile words made her ears ring, her pale skin turning a mottled red as she was suddenly uprooted and hung upside down across the man’s back. From that dizzying vantage, she could see another, that of the man dragging young Sybilline by the arm. The girl was openly weeping, terrified and that much closer to hyperventilating. Alana tried, she really did, to think of something comforting to say, something that would calm the worst of the child’s fears but at the first strangled word, a hand slapped hard against her body’s bottom. Such a stinging attack, stole the words from her, an indignant squeak all Alana was capable of.

Fight literally slapped out of her, Alana could only hang there and listen. These men didn’t say much, to her or to each other, but there were other sounds to be heard. That of the village burning, the flames crackling, the shouts and the jeers, and above all the women sobbing. Such was their predicament, that Alana wasn’t so sure it was a mercy to still be alive in this situation. She felt terrible for that thought, but the young woman was so afraid, nearly all her bravado gone to the fear of whatever nightmarish fate awaited her, awaited them all.

Drowning in her fear, Alana was unceremoniously dumped, young Sybilline being thrown down as well. Immediate was the touch, the two huddling together, but there was other touches on them, gentle and soothing, that of the other captured women from Coriander. There was the miller’s daughter, and the twins Evelyn and Serena, Jacob’s wife, and elderly Mr. Plum’s niece. Syblline was the youngest, while the oldest of this group wasn’t past thirty. They were all young women, some more ripe than others, but all fresh face and golden haired. Alana realized that last with a start, seeing that only the blue eyed, blondes of her village had been gathered here.

The why was on her tongue, the sight of all those different shades of gold stirring an unrest inside her. An uneasy feeling that only grew worse by the minute, Alana looking from face to face, spying the downtrodden look in their blue eyes.

“What is the meaning of this…?” She finally whispered. Helpless shrugs and fitful shakes of their heads no, was the only response Alana got. Either they had no answers, or the truth was too horrible to speak out loud. They were oppressed by it all the same, the innate fear that was instilled in all women born of all men alive. The threat, the violence, and it crackled in the air, on everyone’s mind, both captive and captor alike. The men leered at them but from a distance, lewd jeering erupting as another woman was brought forth, the last of Coriander’s young blondes.

She was crying, great big, ugly tears, hiccuping, practically choking on her sobs as she welcomed into the fold of the terrified group. Sybilynne crawled onto her lap, and wrapped thin arms around her voluptuous sister’s neck. Her nightgown was torn in places, once comely fleshed covered with bruises and cuts. She had no words, none of them did, the village women only able to cling to each other for the only comfort offered them. That was how they passed the time, the excruciating long minutes elapsing into an hour, when at last a man rode up to the make shift encampment.

Off of his horse, he was even more impressive, one of the largest of all the men that Alana had thus far seen. His long black hair was streaked with silver, his cruel eyes a reddish brown color that was as unusual as it was unnatural, hinting at a less than human creature. He had sharp cheekbones that left his face almost gaunt looking, and a thin hook of a nose. Unlike so many of this rag tag group of marauders, this invader wore a full suit of cobalt shaded armor. His blood soaked and tattered cape flared out behind him, and where the man walked, the crowd parted, until at last he stood before the group of terrified women.

“Get up! Get up!” A shrill voice urged, and again hands were on her, pulling her free of the group. She wasn’t the only one, each captured Coriander held by a man, their foul breath and perversions pressed against them, as the man, the leader, began walking along the row. He’d stop and consider each of the ladies offered before him, sometimes going so far as to catch them by the chin, and force them to look this way and that way, and Alana knew enough to know this monster of a man was looking for something specific. Something that went beyond the blonde hair and blue eyes, a sinister need there that went beyond rape, to something just as chilling.

She began to shiver, to shake and tremble long before the long haired man stood before her. Alana stared at him, and couldn’t even make a show at defiance, cowering as his hand reached out for her chin. Her bottom lip quivered, the wet sheen of tears in her eyes. She was so afraid of being picked, and yet equally terrified of NOT, the women that had proven a disappointment tossed aside to his men. The sounds that followed, the sexual frenzy that fell upon those women, not something she could block out, the screams and the lustful grunts, the sobbing and the moans.

Near sick from the sounds, from the reality of what was continuing to happen, Alana stared at the monster before her, and thought his eyes went full crimson. Whatever the color, they stared at her, not just at the physical surface, but to what was beneath, unwrapping the many layers of her heart and her soul, until at last, weak kneed and half swooning, she saw him give a grim nod.

Little more than a rag doll at this point, Alana found herself thrown over and tied to the back of the horse’s saddle. She bounced and was jostled for every galloping step the great war steed took, made sick from the motion, and the cold air that caressed her, this journey she was forced on a long one. Through the forest, and past the mountain, to deep down in the valley, where the old remains of a once glorious temple still lingered, Alana was treated as nothing more than a mere after thought, and rendered half dead from the experience.

Out of the shadows of the rocky remains, came other crimson eyed figures. She was too far gone to truly recoil, dizzy and sick, and wondering if she hadn’t gone mad in the process, undead beings all around her. Touching her, pulling on her hair, staring into the blue of her eyes, each one wanting their own confirmation. Each one getting it, a cheer erupting from the crowd, Alana pulled off the horse, and  quite literally dragged into the forgotten temple.

She could barely take in the details, the one time grandeur of this place lost to the weathered time of nature and neglect. Grass and limbs broke through the marbled floor, trees extending their branches to cover over the once ornate murals made of hundreds of once brightly colored tiles. There was a musky smell here, animals and their droppings, their kills and their leavings, the creatures padding about as curious witnesses to the twisted procession.

Ever deeper into the bowels of this ramshackle temple, Alana could hear the steady trickle of water growing louder, until they stood before a veritable flood of it. Not even that stopped her tormentors, the  young woman dragged through that freezing liquid. It soaked her clothes, and left her shaken to the bone, Alana sputtering and gasping, till at last she was laid out on an altar.

She must have faded in and out of conscience. Each time that she opened her eyes, something more horrific stood before her. Whispering words in a foreign and strangely accented tongue. Painting her exposed skin with blood and oils, and always watching her with those crimson colored eyes. There was a keen anticipation in the air, a lust for something beyond her flesh, Alana sensing the rising need for violence. Hands seem to morph, the tips of fingers becoming wickedly sharp claws, an eager excitement overtaking the group.

Their whispers became outright chanting, growing louder and louder until the deafening roar broke to the advent of claws around her throat. Alana had a moment to realize that this was how she was going to die, her throat crushed by that monster’s paws, her last sight not of anything human, but instead that of the undead who had laid waste to her village. She couldn’t even muster up the strength needed for a true hysteria, the young woman already so tired and defeated. Long having given up, those blue eyes that had helped mark her as special, began to close, Alana’s one real regret that of not knowing if any of her friends and her family had somehow survived.

To Be Continued….

And so begins a massive revamping of my “The Sacrificial Maiden” story. A lot of things happen over the years, some unpleasantness from overeager fans of the RuAli pairing, that I don’t want to get into except to say it killed off my desire to work on this fic for YEARS. That unpleasantness has me nervous about dipping my toes back into the RuAli waters, but...I’ve always wanted to work on this story again.

But as you may or may not know from my other recent works, I’m really unhappy with my older writings. Not necessarily the ideas, so much as the execution. I like to hope and think I got better as a writer since what was the original fic done in...I don’t even remember, but at least a decade has probably gone by!

So I have been looking over the original..and some things stood out to me...I changed the opening of just who/what was trying to sacrifice Alana/Alicia, and how she was chosen. This veers into some spoilers, but basically I am imagining the demonic forces of Nifleheim want to lure the Lord God Creator to a realm where they can capture, possibly even kill him. So they came looking for Alicia’s reincarnation, to use as bait for their trap. This attempt is clearly not going to work out in their favor! XD

There’s more I decide to revise revamp, but some of it is major spoilers I don’t want to give up just yet. I will say one of the big changes is to the nature of the deal Rufus and Alana/Alicia strike, and how it will affect the end game of the story.

I am in the middle of moving, and soon won’t have the internet until November...trying to get some chapters done for this and other fics in the meantime.

Later!

---Michelle

[love-in-nature]

What Things May Come Chapter 1

This fiction is purely self-indulgent. I created Emma in game as a Lavellan and that made me want to write what her and Solas' relationship would have been like if this had been the case. So basically another spin-off to my Once Upon A Dream fic but an AU where Emma is Lavellan.

Tons of love and credit to @galadrieljones. Her lovely fiction The Dead Season was a huge inspiration in me exploring this more and finally getting it down. If you haven't read it I strongly recommend going and doing so like yesterday.

Link to AO3.

Fen’harel had watched from a distance as his orb’s power had been released.  Watched with grim determination and confidence that what he had done was for the best.  What he had done was the only option available to him.

Then the determination had turned to a shocked surprise.  Something had gone wrong.  He sensed it almost immediately.  It was his magic after all, so naturally he would have felt even a slight shift, and this was anything but slight.  

Than another unexpected feeling.  Someone connecting, joining, a mortal.  This magic was not meant for their kind, it was not meant for this world much less for some shell of a being.  

He had started forward even before the Breach had taken full form.  This was yet another complication.  He had been impatient and foolish.  Now he would need to work to correct it as best he could.

It was becoming a theme for him.  This constant game of catch up, but what was he to have done?  The evanuris had left him little choice.  If they had gone unchecked, everything would have been turned to ash.

He did not regret what he had done nor did he find self-loathing in the act.  What he did regret were the consequences, many unforeseen ones that he now needed to make right.  His people had become lost due to what he had done.  It was time to lead them home, time to make them whole once more, even if that meant the current world must burn.  A regrettable consequence but, once again, a seemingly unavoidable one.

Patience.  He would be need to bid his time now.  Whatever happened to the mortal who had taken the power of his orb, he would stay with them.  He had no choice in this.  He would need that magic, thus he now found himself bound to a mortal shadow of a being.  That was assuming they survived the magic to begin with.  Something he had his doubts for.

As he made his way to Haven he passed by the chaos.  Had he not been what he was, he had little doubt he would have been knocked into on more than one occasion.  As it was, a mage in apostate style clothing was given a wide berth.  One would think magic was a deadly illness they could catch.

When he got to Haven he had waited and watched, completely ignored by the shells as they ran around him.  It was not that he did not have any sympathy for them.  Even now his gut twisted in guilt that he had unintentionally caused yet more suffering.  These beings may be mere shadows of what should be, but he still did not wish pain on them.  It would have been quick had things gone to plan.

But they had not.  

The only thing he could do to help now was to place himself in an unassuming position where he would be able to guide without drawing attention to himself.  Plans would have to be reworked.  New groundwork laid.  Best case scenario his orb would be recoverable, but he would need to have a secondary plan if it were not.

However, his first concern was saving the mortal who had taken the magic.  To this end he continued to wait until finally a female warrior with an undeniable air of command to her came over to him.  The way she carried herself reminded him of one of his favorite general’s, one who had been born from a spirit of Valour.  It made a soft ache beat in his heart for his lost home.

The female spent several minutes interrogating him.  When she asked his name he had given her the one long unused by him.  The one he had not been referred to since he had become Evanuris.  

Solas.  

A name for a younger elf that had not carried such a weight on his shoulders.  A young elvhen whose greatest interest had been gaining more knowledge and exploring what the world had to offer him in every regard.  It would suit well, though it would undoubtedly be jarring to hear again till he had adjusted accordingly.

As the warrior continued her slew of questions he found himself becoming agitated at the wasting away of time.  The being who had taken his mark could be dying as they spoke.  He had used his abilities as a Fade mage, and a dreamer as they called it, to push that he might offer assistance that others could not.  This seemed to do little to aid his progress until another woman, this one clearly a spy of some kind, came up.  He explained yet again but was finally rewarded with access to the mortal.   Whoever this new female was, the warrior trusted her and when the spy acquiesced to him the warrior did not argue it.

Once he was finally led to the mortal he found it to be a female mage.  She was clearly Dalish, the slave markings across her forehead worn with such pride serving as another stark reminder of just how wrong this world was.  

He imagined it would also make this more complicated, for out of all the races he had encountered the Dalish had been by far the most hostile towards him.  That was not even knowing that he was the god they so vilified.  A fact that would have been harder for him to take when he woke had he not already had knowledge of it being so from his walks in the Fade.  

Even so, it was difficult to be awake.  To experience it all.  To feel the dullness of everything.  Nothing as bright as it should be, nothing as alive as it should be, and nothing sang the same anymore.  It had been so much worse to experience it; to feel like dreaming was the only place things were real while being awake was something he had to force himself to do out of necessity.

Now, as he took the Dalish child’s hand, he realized that he would likely need to be awake even more.  A thought he did not relish in the least.  

As he reached out to her his attention was drawn back to the present.  The magic was reacting to her but it was not nearly as overwhelming as he had suspected.  She was strong.  He could practically feel the force of her will pushing back.  It was… oddly intriguing, unexpected.  It should have been much more work to shield her and protect her from the magic consuming her.  

Had this child been born in his time she might have been able to become something great.  For the first time he felt genuine hope that he might be able to use her to get everything back on the path it needed to be on.

Hour after hour he held vigil over her, only stopping to sleep or to eat the food that was brought to him.  Just as he had begun to think that, even should it not kill her, she might simply never wake he felt her stir.  The awakening of her awareness tangible to him as he kept control over the mark.  

The moment he felt the first tinglings of it he had laid the girl’s hand on the blanket and gone in search of the Seeker.

When Emma did wake she did not wake to the expected warmth of soft furs.  Nor did she hear the gentle chirps of birds greeting the morning light or the quiet shuffles of camp coming to life.  There was only cold and hardness everywhere, accompanied by the steady plop of water dripping on stone.  Where there should have been life and warmth, there was only coldness and unfeeling stone.

Then the pain.

Shocking and all consuming.  It was like nothing she’d ever felt before.  It jolted up her arm setting her nerves on fire.  It felt like her hand was being ripped apart piece by piece.  Then as suddenly as it had hit her it was gone, leaving only a green gash in her hand that let off one last spark as she looked down at it.

She was shackled in a some kind of dungeon with no memory of how she had gotten there.  This had not been part of the plan.  

Her entire life she had spent living it for her family and her clan.  She was their First, as such her life was never her own.  Once, when she had just been blooming into her mid-teens, she decided she didn’t want the life of a First.  She wanted her own life, wanted to see the world and go on grand adventure.  Desperately she wanted to learn everything Thedas and its people could teach her.  To explore every hidden ruin she could find, speak to every person, and just live for her.  It had ended horribly and never again did she allow herself to question, or even mourn, the lose of her life as her own.

If, on occasion, she felt herself aching to know something more than the same forests and valleys they traversed year after year, she pushed the feelings aside.  Such things were not for her.  She was the clans.  It was an honor to be such.

When Deshanna had told her she was to go to the Conclave she had been excited, despite trying to push it down.  For the first time, even if only for a little while, she would just be her.  Not the First of clan Lavellan but just Emma.  

She would still be carrying her clan’s fate on her shoulders but she would be able to see a bit of the world.  To learn new things.  To ask questions she had been taught were not to be asked amongst her kind.  For a while her curiosity would be given a freer reign than it had since before her powers manifested.

It had been exciting right up until the moment it had gone wrong.  Somehow.  

The memories were all hazy.  It was like trying to find a stone in a murky riverbed.  She thought she could just make it out, but when she reached for it she was never quite able to grab hold of it.  

As she waited for something to happen, her legs started to fall asleep beneath her.  She rocked trying to give them some relief but only ended up wincing at the stone underneath her bones.  By the time her interrogators came in she was almost happy to see them.  At least it might mean she would be stood up soon.

Her wish came true in a sense.  Once the interrogation started things seemed to move quickly.  It was evident they thought she caused this thing they called the Breach and the only reason she wasn’t dead was because of the mysterious mark on her hand which occasionally shot her with searing pain.

It must have been less than an hour before she found herself at a smaller rip in the sky with the warrior of the two named Cassandra.  There she found herself thrown into yet another battle with demons.  The good news is this gave her precious little time to think overly much on anything but surviving the moment.

Once they had vanquished the demons she felt her wrist grabbed in a tight grip, her arm yanked up so sudden and roughly that she almost fell forward as a voice, deep and rich as honey, sounded next to her ear, “Quickly, before more come through.”

She had not time to truly be puzzled as the mark flared to life in her hand.  A different kind of pain emitting from it as it reacted with the rift.  This pain was pulling and hot.  It made her arm feel as though she’d stuck it into flames.  She had to work to hold still as the pain seared her.  She had to work to tell herself that her flesh was not, in actuality, burning off her.

When he released her hand she cradled it to her and for the first time turned to look at the person who had grabbed her.  Almost immediately a feeling of relief went through her.  When she found out that he was an apostate the relief grew even more.  

If anyone could understand her here, if anyone could make her feel less like a lone branch tossed in a rough current, it would surely be this apostate.  The fact that he was an elf was an afterthought that mattered to her not nearly so much as his mage status.  

He was older than she, perhaps he could teach her some new spells.  She could find a friend in the exchanging of magic abilities and in the stories he might share with her of the Fade.  He must be well traveled.  She was eager to ask him what he had seen, what lay beyond that which she could seek out herself.

These hopes were dashed only moments later as they made their way back towards Haven.  He spoke to her a few moments after they had dispatched another set of demons, “You are Dalish, yet clearly away from the rest of your clan.  Did they send you here?”

For some reason the question made her instantly weary.  His tone had remained flat, almost uninterested, but there was something underneath it that she could just barely sense.  Somehow she felt like she was walking into some kind of trap.

“I am their First, I would not be here had they not sent me.”  She tried to chose her words carefully and hesitated before adding, “Have you encountered many Dalish?”

“I have wandered many roads in my time, and crossed paths with your people on more than one occasion.”

And there it was.  She was well aware the Dalish were weary of outsiders, though she did not blame them given everything, they sometimes ended up isolating those who did not deserve such.  Her clan had been more accepting than others but still… that was not saying much considering some clans even had a kill on sight policy if a stranger got too close to their living grounds.

She hesitated once again hoping that would be the end of it but she felt his eyes burning into her back.  She took in a lung full of cold air, feeling it bite at her before she spoke, “So you mean that you spent time as a visitor?”

A question she already knew the answer to before he even said it.

“I mean that I offered to share knowledge, only to be attacked for no greater reason than their superstition.”

So now he would attack her for no greater reason than he had bad experiences with others of her kind.  Did he think them all the same then?  

She sorted through her head for a proper response but failed to find one.  There was no desire in her to make an enemy of this man.  If they could not be friends as she had initially hoped surely they could at least be civil.

Varric ended up answering for her, “Can’t you elves just get along.”

In retrospect the comment probably should have irritated her but instead she gave a small snort of amusement which seemed to result in Solas’ eyes somehow turning even colder.  At least, she would find some mild entertainment through one of her companions through all of this.

Several hours later she found herself facing down a pride demon.  Still not nearly as vexing as facing down the chancellor but it was exhausting.  When they had finally defeated it every muscle in her body ached and throbbed.  Her hand had been sending almost constant jolts of pain through her and all she wanted to do was slip into blissful nothingness.

A wish that was granted to her sooner than expected.  She managed to do something to the Breach, but the searing pain it caused in combination with her exhaustion and lack of nutrition made it so she had no chance to register what that was before her mind shut itself down.