contractionsband

[changelingsandothernonsense]

And we've finished this one- yay! The timeline idea is that it's Joshi dealing with everything in the months immediately post corprus as he hides out from the Blades in Suran.

Introducing his mage light again.

[habibibasket]

hey guys what if the inner flame was all fucked up and evil. Just a peek into my sick and twisted mind.

[valravenn]

bestows upon you my three hundred evil doodles of the same guy posing over and over again. occasionally in new outfits. im so normal about my dnd character. + some tf2 sketches for funsies!

[giliath]

Something glassy crunched behind him, and he whirled around, grasping for a blade that was not at his belt. Karlach froze and raised her hands. “Nine Hells, Gilly, it’s just me!" she said, eyes wide. "Lae'zel's keeping watch out front." She lowered her hands and nodded to Gale. “How—how is he? Can I help?” “Leave us,” said Giliath quietly. She hesitated. A first for her. “Gilly,” she began. “I said, leave us.” Her hands curled at her sides. “Gilly, don’t be stupid. He needs to get out of here. You can’t carry him by yourself.”  Giliath rose to his feet and gathered his kit bag. “He is not to be moved, not in this state. We will camp here tonight.” “Here?” echoed Karlach. She looked around her in disbelief, at the twice-dead bodies that littered the ground, their skin smalt-blue and black with rot. Thorm himself lay a ways from the rest, crumpled and strewn about the floor like a scarecrow that had had an accident, his head lolling a little farther than perhaps was anatomically normal. “It’s not my first choice either,” Giliath grunted. His eyes wandered to Gale again, whose chest rose and fell with ragged—but steady—breaths. He sighed and shouldered the kit. “It’s evil in here,” said Karlach. “It’s evil out there, too.” “You know what I mean.” “I’m afraid I don’t.” “Stop it,” growled Karlach suddenly, and she grabbed his arm. “We all saw you. What the hells is going on?” Giliath shrugged out of her grip. “Thorm is dead,” he said simply. “One of them is. And at any rate, that’s not what I asked.”  “Just leave me alone.”

A bit from "Malice" (WIP)

[iaus]

Things that have happened to Salem so far:

Force Caged

Attacked twice by allies' AOE spells (I consented but they've done the most damage to him so far)

Power Word Stunned

[violetmuses]

I'm going to fight him! 😩 @nelo0wesker 🏷

[homosexual-fanfiction]

SO true wawa

[general-kalani]

"I'm normal... I'm normal... I'm not a freak I'm not abnormal I'm not insane I'm a normal person..."

[ciitrinitas]

roland, have you ever met god? have you ever been scientist pals with god only to have your daughter robot (his daughter-waifu robot) kill you, shove your brain in metal box, and make you an old man? have you ever tried to convince god to just hang with you in purgatory for eternity? have you ever had god reject what would have been a newlywed utopia for you both? have you ever been made flesh again by your daughter robot (who screwed over the Perfect Plan god made) and made to read a lot of books? have you ever had a crisis of purpose and clinging to god is the way you stay sane?

roland, do you want to join a cult?

[varpusvaras]

Starting to write the second part to right into conclusions tonight (after answering to all the comments ily), and here's a little sneak peek to how that one's going bc I think it's funny as all hell

Fox, reasoning with his own brain:

[solivagantingrebel]

Last line tag game!

Tagged by @losersimonriley

Rules: Post the most recent line you’ve written then tag as many people as there are words in the line.

Soap snorted, and he could swear that Ghost puffed up in light offence, his reduced state doing nothing to hide the pride he expected him to have.

Thank you for the open-ended tag! I don't know that many people so I'll just tag those I know 😭 (and anyone who wants to do this, ofc!)

@soldierservant @myriadblvck @pinxreaperwrites

[a-driftamongopenstars]

writing about my Antivan Crow Lavellan is sure interesting, and gives me so. many. feels.

“I feel like a heretic, sitting here,” he says quietly, staring at the dancing flames around the room, sitting atop of the many candles. Their shadows create shapes, and Annuis doesn’t feel as alone as he watches them. It reminds him of the childhood in Antiva, with shadow spirits for company. “A brand of one god on my chest, another one on my face.” His fingers brush against the Inquisition’s eye, embedded on the top of his leather armour. 

[as-above-is-moving]

Hymn, finally getting a safe space and time to look at girls as JUST GIRLS, finally learning what he likes like;

[monocytogenes]

(belated) WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @theluckywizard!

I recently acquired a gaming laptop and have been back on my SWTOR bullshit, so I've been going through some older writing and working on fics with my imp agent Pravin! (His main fic is here, which is more or less "the agent Shadow of Revan mission but make it a heist.")

I have a lot of headcanons about how the denouement of Chapter 2 goes in his timeline, including that he has a bit of a freakout, tells Shara he's resigning and fucks off for a while. He reconnects with Vector, who ends up being a very needed voice of sanity and convincing him to go back.

So yeah, here's a bit from Vector's perspective, where Pravin's explaining to Vector what the hell happened to him. (Vector doesn't know his actual name here--I have this whole idea that agents have operating names before they earn their numbers to keep their true identities totally unmentioned, so the moment where he drops a first name is a shocked reference to Pravin's operating name.)

Spoilers for the imperial agent story; warnings for mental horror stuff and drug use.

Down a musty corridor with sagging paneled walls, the sconces coated in dirt and bugs, he found the room and pressed the bell. A mechanical ping sounded.

Nine cracked it open immediately. “Back up.”

Vector retreated a step. He leaned out just enough to scan Vector’s surroundings; the glint of a blaster’s barrel catching the light. Satisfied, he released the handle, wordlessly ushering his friend inside.

The room was cramped, outfitted with a bed, a refresher and a kitchenette consisting of little more than a sink and a cooktop. The bedsheets were tossed about in a tangle; discarded clothes were strewn across the floor, and the remains of carryout containers filled the counter. Vector’s eyes widened in concern; Nine had never been a compulsively tidy person, but this level of disarray was unlike him.

Then there was the man himself, depositing his pistol on the nightstand and taking a seat on the limp mattress. He was clad in a short-sleeved undershirt, one of those issued with civil service uniforms, and his left arm was done up in a cast held in place by a sling. His sleep pants, sporting a lively geometric pattern, hung loose on his hips; he seemed gaunt, cheeks sunken beneath a layer of stubble. Unkempt curls tumbled about his brow; as he swept them back with his hand, his forehead shone with a sheen of damp.

He smelled sour with perspiration, tinged with sickly-sweet kolto and an edge of something sharper. Vector’s gaze slid to the nightstand. Emptied stim syringes lay atop torn-open packages of dressings, set beside a half-filled pouch of glittery spice.

“Stars,” he breathed. “Cipher—”

“Can you double-check that’s locked?” Nine interrupted, pointing at the door.

Vector turned, examining the lock, then glanced back at his friend. “Arnav, what in the galaxy happened to you?”

Nine opened his mouth and shut it again, his hand curling into a fist in his lap. “...I left Intelligence.”

“You did what?” Vector strode up and dropped onto the bed, his killik companion crawling out onto his shoulder in alarm. “Why?”

“They fucked me over,” Nine spat, the fuzzy edges of his aura sparking. “Those sons-of-scum stabbed me in the back. I just spent two months in a living nightmare because apparently I was too fucking good at my job, too fucking competent to be trusted—”

“You were—what is it called? Burned?”

“No.” Nine gave a humorless laugh. “No, no, I was...I was raped. Mentally. You know how they experiment on prisoners, and—how do I even kriffing—”

He wiped at his nose, searching for words. “You ever had sleep paralysis? Where you wake up partially and you’re seeing things going on around you, and you can’t move?”

“We know of this, yes.”

“That, but you’re fully awake. They tell you to stay, and you’re frozen. They tell you to go, and—” He swallowed. “You’re trapped in your head watching it happen. Can’t even scream.”

He looked towards the wall. “SIS got the trigger word. I don’t know how—one of them’s on the lam, they’re saying he’s got some other allegiance—but frankly, I don’t give a kark. For my part, I’ve fixed it; I took a hit of the chemicals and rewired my own brain because I had no other choice. And no amount of begging on Keeper’s part is going to change the fact that the people whom I trusted, the people whose job it was to be my lifeline, to be there for me whilst I’m running about hostile territory, doing what they don’t even have the guts to do, put me in that position.”

His voice caught; he motioned frenetically at himself. “I gave them six years, Vector. Six years of my life! I was loyal, I was good, I saved thousands of people, and this—this is how they repay me. Fine work, Cipher, you piece of rubbish. None of that meant anything at all.”

[jacqcrisis]

My guy... I do not think it is fine.

[skeleton-in-a-hoodie]

Me whilst planning The Whole Being Dead Thing: And just a sprinkling of body horror.

Me, actually writing it: Hmm, just a little bit more *lid falls off the body horror spice bottle and most of it falls into the pan* ... I'm sure he'll be fine