#wip: nervous young inhumans

[necbromancr]

stan nervous young inhumans monologue animatic wip.. that i will probably next finish 2 i might aswell post...

[mydetheturk]

These are some of my wips for @organsoutsidelovinglydescribed's Trigun Body Horror Week!

i thought about making separate posts but that's a lot more work than i want to do right this minute, so i'm going to a blanket warning of: gore, blood, ... alien weirdness of varying degrees, and frankly erotic organ touching. all the pieces are going under a cut due to the varying levels of the aforementioned warnings, with more specific warnings with each snippet.

heed the warnings and enjoy!

Major tags for this first piece, a dominai fic, where two independent plants sharing one body poke around with the nervous system; it's gonna be rated e for a combination of "domina splits knives like a peach (sexy)" and "whatever's going on there is definitely xeno". Alien weirdness, is all I'm saying. shockingly tender, but alien weirdness nonetheless.

Domina doesn't talk about most of them. Doesn't like to think about how people – humans entirely too full of hubris – cracked her open to see what made her tick. She knows she's lucky she lived. She wears the scars as badges that say “I lived.” The scientists who'd carved her rib cage open like she was so much meat had the audacity to be shocked when Domina reached out to someone else to ask for help. She'd been young then and should still be young now. Now, she's dying. But she's not alone anymore.

Crimsontrip/Crimsonfang with shockingly erotic organ touching. Shockingly tender? The boys are having a Time and if you ask Elendira about it she'll gut you. Warnings include: blood, viscera, insects, mildly graphic medical descriptions, and hints of past traumas. organs and gore as well.

Elendira returned to their side. “How much of this are you feeling?” she asked. Finally, a clearer workspace. She slid her fingers along organs, gently pried them up from where they were tucked in Livio and Razlo’s musculature and viscera. “Wish we could feel more of you,” one of them said. “Bet it’d feel pretty great, havin’ your hands all up in us like this.” Elendira paused with her hand cupping her fools’ liver. She kept her hand on the organ and leaned up and over to press her lips against theirs. When she leaned back up, her lipstick stained their lips a bloody red. “If you two weren’t so fucked up right now, I would slice you apart like a succulent fruit and take you apart one piece at a time.” “Oh.” Elendira peppered a few kisses on their face, leaving marks there. “We’ll have to do this part again, my loves.” She went back to searching, pulling dead worms from inside of them and dropping them on the floor. Worms crunched under Elendira’s feet as she moved. Livio and Razlo’s organs were slick under her fingers. “I have you.” One of them made an almost kitten-weak agreeing noise.

this next piece is from a fic ive been sitting on for two months, I've described it as "a comically biblical amount of insects brings a fallen angel of the lord to climax" and have gotten several people to lose their minds at that phrasing. its less comical, but really, what do you expect from knives of all plants? Warnings include: insects, alien fuckery, xeno. shockingly little gore in this, or at least this part of the fic - knives and zazie have a tussle in the larger fic and bugs are eaten. plants are predatory, imo. it explains their teeth.

Zazie does-doesn’t understand, doesn’t-does understand in a way that is wholly inhuman, a collective, not an individual. Knives is an individual of a collective, a single voice just out of harmony with the rest. Zazie fills the ache, guts him to the core, while Knives claws at Zazie’s carapace, digging trenches, and hissing-clicking and reverberating loud and hard enough to stun many of the small Worms, collapsing them into the sand. Zazie is hot against him, still holding Knives’ face in their mandibles. A mockery of a human kiss. Plants don’t kiss that way and Worms have no need. Knives goes for a headbutt but only taps his forehead against an empty space between Zazie’s endless eyes. Between one breath and the next he reaches out with that part of him that sings with his sisters and touches Zazie’s Whole. Knives burns.

And lastly, a bonus fic for the week, one that i hadn't planned on writing originally but it's getting written anyway, yet another knives vivisection fic. this one's a little different - 2nd pov instead of my usual third person. Warnings for this include: medical horrors, knives having a panic attack, false reassurance that someone's ok in a bad way, more alien freakiness, and Dr. Conrad's special brand of unhelpful bedside manner. eye trauma as wel,

The doctor – false, liar, ripped the creature that should’ve been your older sister in two – looks down at you. A scalpel drips with your resin. The clearest words you’ve heard are spoken. “Subject Knives, this part you might feel.” The blade descends. You stop breathing. It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt. There is pressure but it doesn’t hurt. It should hurt. A knife, silver in appearance. Blade only an atom wide, perhaps more. It slices the doctor’s cheek but melts as soon as it does. The doctor’s blood drips. It mingles with your resin, pools where the scalpel has sliced open your eyelids. [Well done little brother! You just have to do that harder next time!]

I hope you enjoyed the pieces here and i cannot wait for body horror week to start 💜

[flurrys-creativity]

Resfeber

resfeber (n.) ~ the tangled feeling of fear and excitement before a jounrey begins

Pairing: Kim Wonpil (Day6) x GN!Reader; Genre: Hybrid AU, Fluff, a little angst; Rating: sfw, pg-13; Warnings: mentions of anxiety, hints of hybrid mistreatments, hints of anxiety attacks, mentions of therapy; Wordcount: 1.712

Summary: You were afraid of basically everything. Even the tiniest sound made you anxious and you couldn’t go anywhere you haven’t been before. The downside of being a cheetah hybrid. Therefore it was decided you would get a companion, someone who would help you through the day and any panic attack. A dog hybrid.

A/N: I don’t remember how long this has been on my wip list... *sigh* buuuut it is inspired by the fact that cheetahs get emotional support dogs in zoos... which makes me very soft..

You fidgeted on your seat, unable to stay still. Your tail flicked around almost impatiently. Every few seconds your gaze wandered to the clock on the wall next to you. Each time you calculated the remaining time anew. You started bouncing with your leg as your senses went into overdrive.

“Maybe this was a bad idea”, you mumbled and picked on the skin around your nails. Your gaze wandered back to the clock. Five more minutes.

Not able to stay seated, you got up and paced around the room. You took deep breaths in hopes to calm down.

“You knew this was coming. You prepared everything for this to come. It’s going to be fine. Dr. Park said this would help me.”

Before the hybrid rights were evoked you had stayed with a human, who had told you everything you were supposed to do. You never had to think for yourself or worry about doing something wrong even if you only sat near his chair. You simply had to wait for his next command. Now though, you got a life of your own and you just couldn’t handle it. What were you supposed to do? How did someone live without being told what to do? 

Therefore Dr. Park had started to visit you for regular therapy sessions. He was the one who suggested a companion to ease your anxiety. Something you had discussed with him over a dozen sessions before you agreed to it.

You froze on the spot when you heard a car door slam in front of your home. You glanced at the clock, seeing only a minute had passed. Meaning you still had four more minutes before your visitor arrived. Yet the footsteps outside coming closer to your front door made it abundantly clear they were already here.

A nervous chirp left your lips once the doorbell rang. You had no more minutes to prepare yourself anymore.

“Y/N? It’s Dr. Park! I’m here with someone who’d like to meet you. Could you open up the door? Without sprinting away this time?”

You winced involuntarily at the memory from his last visit. You took one last deep breath and turned towards the door. “I’m a predator, I don’t sprint to run away. I’m totally calm and I got this and everything is fine and they are probably very nice and Dr. Park is right and…” 

You opened the door.

“So nice to meet you!” An excited young male greeted you, making you jump on the spot. Without noticing, he grabbed your hand and shook it vigorously. All while he grinned from ear to ear. “I’m Wonpil! I’m a dog hybrid, labrador to be precise. Did you make something to eat? It smells amazing.” He inhaled deeply as he closed his eyes in the process, still holding one of your hands.

You blinked several times before your eyes wandered over his hybrid features: the brown floppy ears between his dark hair, slightly elongated canines, a warmer temperature than the human average as well as the rapidly moving tail behind him.

Your gaze switched to Dr. Park, showing you weren’t so sure about this whole situation. To your dismay his expression was as unreadable as always. He simply gestured all of you to go inside, probably because he didn’t want to hunt you down after you sprinted away with inhumanely speed.

When you reached the living room and sat down on the couch, Wonpil immediately sat down next to you - not losing his excited manner in the least.

“We already discussed how this is supposed to work”, Dr. Park said calmly and sat down on a plush chair opposite of the couch. He observed all of your reactions towards Wonpil. “Did you prepare everything like I asked you to do?”

You nodded shortly. “I prepared the spare room and ordered more groceries online. I also made some space in the bathroom.” Even though you said it out loud, your brain couldn’t quite believe the fact you wouldn’t be living alone anymore. Or at least for the time being until you were able to control your anxiety attacks.

“That’s really considerate of you. Thank you.” Wonpil smiled brightly and nodded in appreciation. “This is quite the change for you. I’m happy you’re doing so much for this. It means a lot to me!”

You bit on your lower lip and quickly grabbed your tail, knowing the tip would just flick around like crazy from the sudden attention on you. 

Wonpil laughed softly, suppressing the urge to coo at your antics. “I’m also nervous”, he admitted and clutched his hands in his lap, “but I feel like we’re going to become really good friends.” Even though you were a predator, the nervousness you radiated felt palpable and Wonpil wanted nothing more than to hug you and calm you down. He knew he couldn’t do that right now as you two were still strangers to one another. Yet he offered you his hand, holding it with the palm facing the ceiling.

His heart nearly burst into dozens of tiny pieces when you delicately placed your hand in his, accepting his words and most importantly him into your life.

After a few more necessities were discussed, Dr. Park bid his goodbye and left you two alone in your now shared home. You still felt slightly uneasy about all of this but you knew it was for the best.

The first week together you tiptoed around Wonpil, whenever you exited your room - the only space you had solely for yourself. Of course you didn’t deliberately try to avoid him but you didn’t know how to act around him. Not that you knew how to act around anybody in the first place.

“Morning”, Wonpil greeted you quietly from behind, making you jump slightly and turn around to him. He smiled sheepishly and waved one hand hesitantly. 

You frowned in thought, noticing he wasn’t as chipper as before. “Are you unhappy?” You clutched your hands and started fidgeting with your fingers. Somehow you didn’t like the thought of him being unhappy.

Wonpil tilted his head to one side, looking at you with a puzzled expression. Once it dawned on him, he quickly shook his head. “No, no, no. I’m just trying to make you feel comfortable around me.”

Your eyes widened in surprise and you felt the dread bubbling up in your stomach. Cold sweat ran down your back and dark spots appeared at the edge of your vision. You were the reason Wonpil changed his behaviour. You were the reason he toned down his personality.

Wonpil immediately noticed the distant look in your eyes and how your stance shifted slightly. He knew if he wouldn’t get you back, you would bolt out of the room and any progress the two of you made over the first week would have been gone again.

“Y/N”, he spoke softly and stepped closer to you, moving into your line of sight, “it’s alright. You did nothing wrong. I want you to feel comfortable around me. Maybe you can tell me what might help you.” Ever so carefully he pried your hands open. “It’s going to be a long journey but I just know we can do it.”

It took you several minutes before you were able to focus on Wonpil again, blinking a few times as well. It took you even longer until your brain finally registered what Wonpil had said to you. Yet you couldn’t form a single word as an answer. You inhaled shakily, feeling the tears brim at the corners of your eyes.

Wonpil rubbed his thumbs over the back of your hands in a calming manner. “How about we sit down on the couch and take some time doing nothing at all together?” He waited for the faintest of nods from you before he guided you towards the living room. 

The second your body hit the cushions all the energy in your body evaporated. You basically melted onto the couch and just closed your eyes, feeling way too exhausted. 

Wonpil sat down next to you, still holding one of your hands and caressing the back of your hand. His tail wagged gently when you rested your head on his shoulder with a soft sigh. 

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologise for”, Wonpil reassured you, easing more into the couch as well. “We can’t change who we are from one day to the next. It’s a process, which will take quite some time. I don’t expect you to embrace me with open arms just after a week of living together.”

You rubbed your free hand over your face, wiping away a few stray tears. “It’s frustrating. You’re doing so much and I… I don’t do anything.” Without receiving an answer you continued ranting about the struggles your mind gave you each and every day. “I just want to be normal”, you cried in the end.

“You’re doing way more than you’re giving yourself credit for”, Wonpil told you and squeezed your hand comfortingly. “You just opened up to me, Y/N. That wouldn’t have happened a week ago.”

“I just dumped a truckload of frustrations on you.”

Wonpil chuckled softly and shook his head. “I might agree with you that the frustrations were the reason for you to open up but I don’t think you dumped anything on me. I’m here to help you, to listen to you, to share your worries and fears. And as you can hear-” he pointed at his rapidly wagging tail “- I’m extremely happy with this situation.”

This made you snicker as well, hiding your face into Wonpil’s shoulder. The tip of your tail flicked from side to side, indicating the racing thoughts within your mind. Yet Wonpil’s presence so close next to you, kept your worries at bay. 

“I’m scared”, you whispered after a while, curling more into Wonpil’s side as if you wanted to hide away. “But I’m also excited.” You sighed and glanced upwards to see Wonpil’s bright smile, making yourself smile as well. “I think your unshakable positivity makes me excited for what is to come.”

Wonpil nodded slowly. “I feel the same way. The trust you’re showing me makes me excited to see what the future holds.”

© all rights reserved  

Taglist: @xavi-in-kpopland​

[renon4224]

WIP 19: Wanderlust

Chapter One

Princess Teasea of the Heoris Empire watched as her brother was sent to his execution; he'd been granted the grace of choosing his method of dying. Sebastian had chosen honorable combat which came as no surprise to his younger sister, however the sharp hisses at every clang of metal on metal would have convinced him otherwise. Bast glanced up into the rafters, a salute to the young girl before he drove back into the fray of knights, each wanting the glory of killing the traitorous princeling. The other armored men played tip-toe with fallen comrades’ bodies, each man making his way to the back-bare prince, none landing more than a grazing blow on him.

The children’s father was running out of knights, his patience and his resolve with a huff he finally ceased the match and turned to his daughter, “Go get dressed.” Tea was startled as her handmaidens walked her away, her chambers not being terribly far from the courtyard, they dressed her in men’s armor, not even her own sword at her waist. When she reentered the courtyard it was not to rejoin her parents, but to fight her brother. Bast stood there for a moment, this new knight seemed uncomfortable, no… he was scared, nervous. He kept glancing into the rafters, at where Tea should’ve been. Bast turned around to look at his family, father stone cold, mother in tears, and sister no where to be seen.

He took off his helmet and threw it down along with his nearly shattered sword,”I will not fight a child, Father.”

King Edmis only smiled, “No little boys would be expected to go up against such a powerful foe. But by all means, fight.”

Sebastian furrowed his brows, if the kid wasn’t a little boy could he be a new graduate? He retrained his focus on the kid before bowing his head, “Listen kiddo, I’m gonna need you to turn around, okay? I know you’re scared, but it’s gonna be okay, alright? Just put a little faith in your prince. I’ll be back soon.” He gently disarmed the kid before raising the sword high to muttered boos, the sword felt familiar in weight, same as Teasea’s. He shook that thought out of his head before holding the blade against his throat, it clinked against the chain Tea made him for his eighteenth birthday.

Tea spun, ripping her helmet off as her older brother cut his own jugular, she watched his eyes blow wide in surprise as the light faded and he fell back into the dust of the ring. The courtyard was silent, no one expected the prince to take his own life, then there was shuffling as the majority of people left the castle grounds, and people went back to work, but Tea heard nothing other than her own pulse roaring in her ears. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, and remotely she heard someone scream, their sobs raucous, probably making their throat grow hoarse. She couldn’t see anything but her brother in a pool of his own blood, she knelt, frantically trying to stop the bleeding. It was too late, too late. He was dead. The screams grew louder and louder, Tea thought it would be appropriate for rain to fall, but none came, it was a beautifully sunny day. She didn’t feel anything, she only stared at her brother’s body, long after the screams grew to a whimper and eventually to nothing at all. Time didn’t pass, she didn’t want it to, because tomorrow she would have to pretend like she didn’t see her brother die. She would have to be okay. She grabbed his chain, it was made from broken pieces of chainmail, she unhooked it before clipping it around her own neck.

Teasea was numb, she barely registered when her mother began to cast a flowering spell until she saw Sebastian’s body begin turning into wildflowers, she whirled, tackling her mother, inhuman snarls and threats at what would happen if she continued. Edmis called the guards to take her to her room, lock her there. Tea fought every step, becoming so violent one guard knocked her out in order to complete their task. When she woke she was in her room, a bloody chain around her neck and her brother’s body a mess of wildflowers. The flowery scent of the wildflowers mixed with the smell of iron and blood. She lay in bed, her head pounding, confused, the memories of the bloody massacre swirling in her mind. The room was dark and cold, the windows covered in thick, heavy curtains. She took a few sips from her chalice, hoping to slip into a dreamless sleep.

The chain around her neck felt tight and cold as she struggled to break free of the nightmare she was trapped in. Her heart raced and her blood pounded as she fought to escape the terror that had befallen her, the flowers a macabre omen of things to come. She thrashed in the bed, her body drenched in a cold sweat, her mind unable to process the scene of blood and violence that had taken place. Her brother's body was an unrecognizable mess, his life taken far too soon. The only thing that remained of him were the wildflowers and their strange, haunting beauty.

In the stillness of the room, with only the sound of her own breathing, she knew she would never forget this moment. How could she ever forgive her father for putting her through that? Or her mother for going along with it? She had always been a good girl, she did what she was told and never spoke back to her dad. She kept her head down, she never questioned, she didn't complain. She had done everything they'd asked and this was how they betrayed her trust? Her anger rose inside her, burning in her chest like a wildfire.

The room was filled with the warm light of afternoon sun, bold golden centerpieces that accentuated the golden tones throughout the room. The light glinted off the metallic decor, creating an almost suffocating atmosphere. Teasea stood, her body moving almost on it’s own as she threw a golden vase against the wall, a tense energy radiating from her as she watched the golden vase shatter against the wall. It was a sudden, violent release of emotion that left her hands trembling and her lungs burning. It was like a dam had burst, releasing the pent-up frustration and hurt she'd been holding back for so long. The room felt too small, too fragile, too close. She just wanted to break something else until the anger left her. She threw everything within arm's reach, the clattering of glass and metal filled the room. It was a desperate, blind rage, the adrenaline coursing through her veins as she lost control. Her breath came in sharp, painful gasps and her heart was pounding in her chest. It was too much, the world too loud, too intense. A sharp crack rang out as the window shattered, sending shards of glass flying out onto the courtyard below. The window had been locked, but her rage was like a force of nature, nothing could hold it back.

The world seemed to slow down as her body and mind went numb. She looked back at her canopy bed, the silken linens hanging down from above like a lifeline. It would take some time and careful knots to turn the linens into a rope, but it could work. The thought gave her a surge of hope, but even in this desperate situation, there was a part of her that hesitated. Was escaping really worth it? What might be waiting for her outside the window? It was a question only she could answer. If she stayed, if she tried to wait it out, how much longer would she have to suffer? But if she escaped, what would she do? Where would she go? Was she ready to face the outside world? It was a risk, but the only chance she had if she wanted to be free. The servant’s corridors were dark and narrow, the backways and shortcuts a maze in the eyes of a panicked girl trying to escape. Each turn brought her closer to a chance at freedom, a chance to leave behind the horrors she’d witnessed. The library was her destination, a book of seaman’s knots her only means of escape. With the book tucked under her arm she returned to her room, each movement purposeful and tense. She was running out of time, she needed to hurry before she was discovered. She poured over the book’s pages, ignoring her mother’s quaint attempts at a reconciliation. Her mother's words were just a distraction, a desperate and pitiful attempt to reconcile. She barely even heard them as she flipped through the pages of the book, scanning the complicated instructions and diagrams of the different knots. Each one was more difficult than the last, but if she could master just one then it could be enough to give her freedom.

After hours of trial and error, she had finally managed to master one of the knots. With her hands trembling and her mind reeling, she began knotting the linens together, the movements of the knots becoming second nature to her. She was so close to freedom, she could almost see it. But then she heard a noise outside her door. Someone was coming.

“Teasea May, how dare you ignore your mother like that?” Her father’s harsh tone put her mind into hyperdrive as she finished the last knot, tied the linens to her bedpost. “That’s it, I’m coming in young lady.”

Teasea froze as she heard her father's sharp voice, the anger in his tone filling her with panic. She was so close to escaping, but now her freedom was in jeopardy. She had no time to hesitate, no time to think. She moved as fast as she could, dressing hastily and grabbing her riding clothes as she tied the linens to her bed. She had to climb out the window, she had to run as fast as she could. Freedom was just a few feet away. Clinging to the rope as tightly as she could, she climbed down the three stories, watching the ground rush up towards her as she went. The rope felt secure enough, but one mistake and she'd fall, it was a long way down. Every step felt like an eternity, her heart hammering in her ears as she reached her feet to the ground and let go of the rope. She was free, she had escaped. But now what? She was still in danger and she had nowhere to go.

She sprinted towards the stables, grabbing her horse and riding bareback off towards the seaport. The wind was in her hair and the air was fresh in her lungs, her heart pumping with adrenaline as she rode. For the first time in a long time, she felt free. But what came next was uncertain, she had left her past behind her but she would need to forge a new future somehow. She was starting from scratch, but at least now she had a chance to shape her own destiny. She rode for hours, night falling, the moon hanging as a thin sliver in a black sky.

Her horse was exhausted and she knew that they needed to stop, she wasn't prepared for a long journey and neither was her horse. She pulled her horse into a forest clearing and dismounted, leading him to the nearest water source and letting him drink. It would have to do for now. Teasea shivered in the cold nighttime breeze, she tied her horse to a tree and laid down to sleep in a bed of mosses and twigs. The bed was rough and uncomfortable, but it was all she had. She tried to bury herself deeper into the moss and twigs, trying to block out the icy wind. There was a faint glow of moonlight, but it didn't do much to ward off the darkness. As she drifted into sleep, she couldn't help but wonder what the morning light would bring. She drifted off, the worries of the night finally catching up to her. She dreamt of escaping again, of the freedom she'd tasted for just a moment before it was taken away. Her peaceful sleep was cut short by the sudden sound of galloping hooves.

She looked up to see a rider approaching, the horse's hooves kicking up clouds of dust as it came barreling towards her. She didn’t wait to see who it was before undoing the knot on the horse’s bridle and jumping on, spurring it into a gallop south.

The rider watched her, clearly not impressed with her attempt at escape. Without a word, they grabbed the horse's reins and spurred it into a gallop, chasing after Teasea. Tea pushed her horse farther, jumping over fallen logs and ducking the low hanging branches, zig-zagging through the trees until she made it to the tree-break. But the rider was not far behind her and soon caught up with her once more. She tried to go faster and outrun him, but her horse simply didn't have the speed to escape. Frustrated, she turned the horse in a wide circle, waiting for an opportunity to break free. The rider stared at her, his patience growing thin as they went round and round. After what seemed like hours, a feminine laugh escaped the other rider.

“Wow, you’re a fast one, aren’tcha?” She laughed, rearing her dappled gray horse to a stop, “So where’re ya going?” She pulled her hood down to show double-braided white hair.

Teasea stuttered, staring at the unusual hair color, “Who are you?”

“Oh, silly me, I’m Liliana White, but you can call me Lili.” She chirped before dismounting.

“I’m Pri- Prisea.” Teasea mumbled.

Lili crouched down next to the horse, petting it softly and feeding it treats as she spoke softly to it. "It's alright, it's alright, you're okay..." she said, her gentle voice calming the horse, “So, where ya headed?” Lili asked again.

“Osya-”

Lili gasped, “The seaport! Oh wow, Pri Pri, you’re real far off, y’know?” She put her hands on her hips and tutted for a moment, “I could take ya the rest o’ the way if ya’d like?”

Teasea blinked, still trying to process what was happening. She was still nervous, but Lili's gentle manner was making her feel a little bit safer. The seaport was still so far away, and she had no clue which way it actually was, but if Lili offered to take her the rest of the way then perhaps she could make it. She looked down at Lili, "Would... You mean it?"

“Course I mean it, pirates always keep their word.” She grinned, mounting her horse and turning it the correct way. “Y’coming?”

She nodded, holding on tight as she turned her horse in the right direction. "I'm coming", she said with a faint smile.

@fakegingerrights

@conquerius37

@sunrisemcash

@wolves-write-in-moonlight

@gummybugg

[oiwxa]

TAG GAME !!

RULES: Post the names of all the files in your wip folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous they are. Let people send you an ask with any titles most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have wips.

TAGGED BY: @hsgwrld thank you so much, meg !! i wanted to answer this at my enha blog but realized that if i wanted to move here then i should start doing most, if not all of my activities here !!

I'll be dividing them into several categories:

OIWXA EXCLUSIVES:

YUPPIE: Yeonjun Parasite!Succession AU (mostly inspired by succession; this is in the making and I reckon it'll be out by August)

UNTITLED: 1q84!Hyuka (loosely using 1q84 for the parallel world narrative)

COLD FIRE: Master and the Margarita meets Chinatown Beomgyu

UNCOMFORTABLY NUMB: Aftersun!Soobin (single father au)

UNTITLED #2: EEAAO!Taehyun (convenience store owner in Canada au; if Kim's Convenience had the flashiness and action-packed absurdist realism of EEAAO)

UNTITLED #3: Winverse spinoff of capoeira/bjj!hyuka

NERVOUS YOUNG INHUMANS: My Year of Rest and Relaxation inspired Yeonjun

LA MER: Lost city of Atlantis/Parallel World Underwater/Jules Verne-esque adventure type of fic with Taehyun as the protag

UNTITLED #4: Bladerunner!Beomjun (two separate fics methinks)

I have WAY too many rotting in the drafts ngl

DEATHCONSCIOUSNESS: ANTHOLOGY SERIES (only putting the titles because I think they're very intriguing on their own LMAO)

A QUICK ONE BEFORE THE ETERNAL WORM DEVOURS THE WORLD: Huening Kai

BLOODHAIL: Taehyun

THE BIG GLOOM: Soobin

HUNTER: Beomgyu

TELEPHONY: Yeonjun

EARTHMOVER: Hongjoong

GUGGENHEIM WAX MUSEUM: Yeosang

BURIAL SOCIETY: Wooyoung

UNHOLY LIFE: Seonghwa

EMPTINESS WILL EAT THE WITCH: Yunho

SEA OF WORRY: San

WAITING FOR THE BLACK METAL RECORDS TO COME IN THE MAIL: Jongho

EVERYTHING WE WILL FORGET: Yunho

OTHER SUBSIDIARIES:

@orochxi

All of JIDAIGEKI

One last Sunoo longfic inspired by The Alchemist

One last Heeseung longfic inspired by all of Lamp's discography as a parting gift to my journey as an Enhablr writer

@okikxu

BENEATH THE MOON SHADOW: In the Mood for Love!Yunho

MODAL SHANGHAI: Chinatown!cop!Mingi

UNTITLED #5: MK Ultra!Parallel Universe!Yeosang

DEATH VALLEY: Cowboy Bebop meets Spaghetti Western!Hongjoong

@otohimxe

SATURDAYS AT YOUR PLACE: non-idol coming of age fic Winter just reading tarot cards with fem!mc

UNTITLED #6: Peking Opera!Ningning

UNTITLED #7: Lust, Caution!Ningning

TAGGING: @writingmochi @petrichor-han and whoever else wants to do this !! I don't really have too many mutuals on here oop-

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

WIP Wednesday

I don’t think I’m ever going to do anything with this as far as putting it on AO3 goes, but I also don’t want to just keep sitting on it forever. So, in honor of Tears of the Kingdom’s release and the fact that it now thoroughly owns my ass, here are character descriptions I wrote for all the main characters of my Breath of the Wild AU fic (I tried to make them sound like the way characters and missions etc are described in the game, and I so wish I could draw fun portraits to go along with each one 😅 ah well, have the descriptions at least! They’re done in order of appearance within the fic.)

—//—

THE OLD MAN - A mysterious man dressed in white. He seems to know you, though his tale is light on personal details.

LAN QIREN - [The Old Man] The former leader of the Gusu Lan. Now stationed at the Yiling Burial Mounds to oversee the Hero’s recovery, his task has been to maintain the wards around the mountain and in doing so protect both the Hero and his people from the dangers of the lingering ghosts. Uncle to the Twin Jades Zewu-Jun and Hanguang-Jun, and Grand-Uncle to the current Gusu Lan Sect Leader.

WEN NING - The Ghost General. A young, soft spoken man dressed in black, with veins of resentful energy climbing his neck. His nervous mannerisms don’t quite hide the sense of power and inhuman strength that is characteristic of many Wen cultivators. The Ghost General has a habit of appearing unexpectedly and in utter silence, though usually with some sort of helpful hint to share. Brother to Wen Qing.

WEN QING - The Ghost Doctor. A quick and fiercely intelligent young woman who wields her doctors’ instruments like daggers. Though not as physically imposing as her brother Wen Ning, her sharp tongue more than makes up the difference. Once Wen Ruohan’s primary physician, there are no higher authorities on the effects of resentful energy poisoning. Sister to Wen Ning.

LAN JINGYI - Gusu Lan’s first disciple. Lan Jingyi is known and loved for his boisterous good humor and unfailing, lifelong commitment to minor acts of mischief. A member of the self-proclaimed Young Immortals, he earned immortality as a young man during a fight against the wakening Yiling Laozu less than two decades after the Scourge.

LAN SIZHUI - The current Gusu Lan Sect Leader is known by cultivators and civilians alike for his gentle demeanor and clear sense of justice without cruelty. A member of the self-proclaimed Young Immortals, he cultivated immortality as a young man under his father’s and uncle’s tutelage. He took up the mantle of Sect Leader following Zewu-Jun’s retreat into seclusion to pilot the Lan Divine Beast, Shuoyue.

LAN XICHEN - Also known as Zewu-Jun, Lan Xichen is Gusu Lan’s former Sect Leader and the current pilot of Divine Beast Shuoyue. His power and control are unmatched in the cultivation world by any except his brother, the famed Hanguang-Jun. As the de facto leader of the four Champions, Zewu-Jun arranged the sworn brotherhood between himself, Jin Guangyao, and Nie Mingjue, and suggested Jiang Wanyin for the fourth Champion. He cultivated immortality upon creating a spiritual bond with the other Champions and sharing their qi to begin piloting their Divine Beasts full-time some seventy years ago.

OUYANG ZIZHEN - A spirited, handsome youth who travels the world to find inspiration for his paintings and interesting news to share with his mentor. Prone to fits of romantic fantasy, he also has a habit of spinning wild tales that help him sell his work wherever he goes. A member of the self-proclaimed Young Immortals, he cultivated immortality under Nie Huaisang’s tutelage, though neither of them will reveal how it was accomplished.

NIE HUAISANG - Current leader of the Qinghe Nie. He’s enthusiastically friendly, as many Nie are, though unlike the rest of his Sect Nie Huaisang is physically unassuming. Though notorious for not engaging with Sect matters any more than necessary, his care for his people and ability to respond perfectly to any crisis has endeared him such that no one has once challenged his position as leader of the most war-ready Sect. He is the youngest of the Sunshot Immortals, though it remains unclear when or how he cultivated his immortality.

NIE MINGJUE - Also known as Chifeng-Zun, Nie Mingjue is the former leader of the Qinghe Nie and the current pilot of Divine Beast Baxia. His deep sense of justice and prowess in battle is well known by cultivators and civilians alike. Despite being the eldest of the sworn brotherhood, he has never questioned Lan Xichen’s right to lead the Champions in the fight against Yiling Laozu. He is a powerhouse of qi for the other three, though his connection with resentful energy is a hidden weak point that threatens all four Champions should he become overwhelmed by the fierce saber spirit Baxia.

JIN LING - The heir to Lanling Jin and the current temporary leader of Yunmeng Jiang. Jin Ling takes his position as his uncle’s steward on the Lotus Throne very seriously, very rarely allowing outsiders to interfere in Sect matters. He’s a proud young man who does not accept help easily, though he will bend, on occasion, for his friends. The youngest member of the self-proclaimed Young Immortals, Jin Ling cultivated immortality with the help of his uncle before taking up the mantle of Acting Sect Leader of Yunmeng Jiang.

JIANG WANYIN - Also known as Sandu Shengshou, Jiang Wanyin is the leader of Yunmeng Jiang and pilot of Divine Beast Sandu. Though younger than the rest of the Champions, he has a fearsome reputation perfectly matched by his lightning-quick temper and brutal intolerance for wickedness. Under his rule, the wild and free spirited Jiang have also become fiercely independent, (nearly to their detriment).

JIN GUANGSHAN - As Chief Cultivator, his Excellency has ruled the cultivation world since the aftermath of the Sunshot Campaign. Though the other leaders of the Great Sects elected to create their Divine Beasts and become Champions, Jin Guangshan abstained and elected his son for the honor instead - a move which many in the cultivation world criticized, but his position has remained too secure for their grumbling to change much.

XUE YANG - A young man once devoted to revenge who was turned into a fierce corpse in a poor imitation of the original work of the Yiling Laozu in reanimating Wen Ning. He was set loose in the dungeons beneath Jinlintai as a means to torment Jin Guangyao, his resentments and never ending thirst for revenge driving him to seek out his once-savior wherever he may be hiding.

JIN GUANGYAO - Also known as Lianfang-Zun, Jin Guangyao is Jin Guangshan’s right hand - and the only illegitimate child the Lanling Jin Sect Leader is willing to formally acknowledge. Of the four Champions, his core is the weakest, but what he lacks in formal training he makes up for with cunning and ruthless efficiency. Despite his father’s attempts to drive him to madness, Jin Guangyao has not only kept (enough of) his sanity to remain in control of his Divine Beast Hensheng, but also remains the best strategist of the cultivation world. Jin Guangyao cultivated immortality alongside his fellow Champions upon pooling their qi to pilot their Beasts seventy years ago.

MO XUANYU - A young boy who was whisked away from the uncertain care of his mother’s family to live and train in Jinlintai. His fascination with Demonic Cultivation saved him from expulsion when he showed little talent for traditional methods, but it was also ultimately his downfall. Mo Xuanyu sacrificed his life to give his core and the energy of his body to the Hero of Time to aid in his resurrection. What remains of him is now the Demon corrupting Divine Beast Hensheng and tormenting the Jin Champion, Jin Guangyao.

LAN WANGJI - Also known as Hanguang-Jun, Lan Wangji was the first of the Champions to retreat into seclusion when it became clear that the Tiger Amulet would only grow stronger with time. He has kept Yiling Laozu’s creation carefully suppressed as much as possible without destroying it, though only he knows that its continued existence has been a conscious choice. In the years since the beginning of his seclusion, he has become something of a deity to the local people protected by his sacrifice; each city, town, and village contains at least one shrine dedicated to Hanguang-Jun which the civilians pray to for strength.

[pocketmouse18]

Thank you so much to @herosofmarvelanddc @cloudypaws and @mtab2260 for the tag! This was so much fun to think about :)

(fair warning, I wrote too much for many of these...)

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Just 2 :)

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

450,577 if I did my math right!

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Officially? Just 1 - Agents of Shield (two, I guess, if you count MCU as separate, since I use characters from both...). Off the record, many more than that! I have lots of bits and bobs from other fandoms that I tinkered with when I was younger, still getting the hang of writing, not brave enough to post things, etc. etc. Some of those include X-Men, Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, the Fosters, Star Wars, the Hunger Games, the 39 Clues, and a few others I can’t remember. None of those will likely see the light of day, mostly because they’re unfinished, not very good, and just not reflective of who I am as a writer anymore, but they were fun to play around with at the time :)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

I just have the two, but The Important Thing is to Try wins, hands down, with 1227. Shoulder to Shoulder has 95, though, which I’m also very proud of! Important Thing has a definite advantage, being as long as it is, so I don’t know if that’s really a fair comparison between them.

5. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Yes! Or at least, I always try to! I just can’t believe someone would be kind enough to take the time to tell me what they thought of my story, so I always want to take the time to thank them and return the favor :) Plus, as I’ve learned, it’s a fantastic way to get to know some really lovely people!

6. What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Well... I technically only have one story that has an ending, at least on Ao3, and it’s not an especially angsty one, since it ends in Phil and Melinda getting married :) I have some angsty chapter endings in Important Thing, if that counts? I’m not even sure if any of my unpublished fiddlings have angsty endings (most don’t have endings at all lol)... I don’t mind writing angst, but I don’t know if I’m capable of making something without a happy (or at least hopeful) ending.

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you've ever written?

Not really, unless you count AoS/MCU crossovers (which I guess technically count, but also I would argue it’s not a true crossover since (and I will die on this hill) AoS is a part of MCU canon). When I was younger I was a fan of playing around with crossover AUs more so than the actual characters crossing paths (so like, what if these characters from XYZ were demigods or went to Hogwarts or what have you, and not so much what would happen if the X-Men met Luke, Leia, and Han on one of their space adventures). I started writing a crossover between AoS and the Marvel Rising cartoon once (which again, not sure if that’s a true crossover, since Daisy was in Marvel Rising, but I digress), where Coulson tasks Daisy to work with Kate Bishop and Rayshaun Lucas to collect and train a team of young Inhumans, starting with Kamala Khan, but I ran out of steam pretty quickly when it got too plot heavy.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I don’t think so. I’ve had some people not understand some choices that I made, but they asked it in a way that I thought was perfectly nice, and I was happy to talk about it with them. Sometimes people get “mad” at me when I cause pain and suffering, but I know that’s all in good fun :)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope, not for me. I don’t read it or write it, personally. Writing a kiss is hard enough!

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge! Important Thing is probably too long and unwieldy to ever steal :P

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Someone once asked me on FFN if they could translate Important Thing to Russian, which was basically the coolest thing I’ve ever been asked!

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

A fic, no. I’d love to try sometime! I had a friend in college who I co-wrote with A LOT, though, so I know I enjoy that process, given the right partner. We wrote several short plays together (ranging from ~15-50 minutes in length, including one that we wrote in a single afternoon!), selected scenes from a larger (unfinished) play inspired by historical letters we found in an archive that were sent between a man from Massachusetts serving in the American Civil War, his wife, and his 8-year-old son, and several scripts for TV sitcoms (2 pilots for 2 different shows, plus additional eps for those pilots, and a couple of later eps for a different show that a classmate of ours wrote the pilot for - we were trying to practice what it would be like to be on a staff with a showrunner haha). The sitcom scripts in particular I’m very proud of, and could talk somebody’s ear off about if asked (one’s about ghost hunters and one’s about a DnD party!), but maybe that’s better saved for another post ;)

13. What's your all-time favorite ship?

That’s a very hard question for me! Mostly because shipping stuff is usually one of the last things to register for me when I’m thinking about shows/books/movies I like haha... I’m always a sucker for Philinda, and younger me was rather taken with Percabeth, I suppose.

14. What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

Hmm, several, really. The aforementioned AoS/Marvel Rising crossover I think could be really cool if I got it to work, but I don’t think that’ll ever happen. I also have a WIP that’s like an angstier version of a Hallmark Christmas movie AU where Daisy has to come home to her small town right before Christmas and figure out what she wants out of life, but I’m a little stalled out on that one, mostly because I’m waffling on who the charming love interest should be and because I don’t have enough of a plot, just lots of feelings about coming back home to a place you thought you had left behind lol.

I’d put Important Thing and it’s (as of yet) untitled sequel on here as things I want to finish, but I’m much more determined to see those through, so I don’t think they qualify for the “never will actually write” part of this question :)

15. What are your writing strengths?

I don’t know if other people agree with this, but I think I write pretty decent dialogue. My “training” (if you can call it that) is in, as you might have figured out by now, script and screenplay writing (those were the only creative writing classes I took in college). So having a sense of the rhythm a conversation needs to have and how to write dialogue that sounds mostly like how people really talk (but shined and tightened up enough so that it’s not actually like verbatim dialogue, which is far less interesting to read!) is something that I feel like comes pretty easily. I also think I do okay with similes and metaphors - my brain tends to work in that way. It’s easier for me to think of stuff (feelings, especially) in terms of comparing it to more familiar things than to just think of the thing directly, if that makes sense?

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

If I was being honest, this would be a very long section, but I know it’s not fun to read a big ol’ paragraph of someone self-criticizing, so I’ll keep it to one or two items ;) A big one for me is pacing, I think. I tend to write more than I need to and to over-explain things, so my chapters get very long and sometimes don’t really go anywhere? Until all of the sudden, they DO, because things need to HAPPEN! I’m a pretty rigorous self-editor, but I do have a really hard time cutting out sections (unless they’re really just not working), so even if it would help the pacing to leave out this conversation between character A and character B, I often can’t make myself cut it. I also think I struggle sometimes with balancing my ‘showing’ and my ‘telling,’ especially in the sense of me over-explaining certain things - like when it comes to feelings/facial expressions/etc, for example. I compensate for that in Important Thing by making it a part of a few people’s POV, but it’s not really a good habit to have in general. Also spelling! I’m really bad at spelling and run my stuff through robust spellchecks and text-to-speech before I post anything to make up for it :)

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I do it with some regularity, although I always get nervous about doing it wrong! It’s hard to avoid in AoS, where characters are spies and should (in theory, at least) have a working knowledge of multiple languages (”We’re spies, I thought we all learned languages?!”). Even in an AU, where characters aren’t spies, I like to try and pay homage to that, plus pay homage to certain characters’ native languages or just general multilingualism. I’ve spent a fair amount of time around people who speak more than one language, so I feel like it’s a natural part of groups of people to have more than one language spoken. I have a pretty good handle on written Spanish, a patchy idea of French, plus I know some Russian phrases from my dad and some German words from my grandfather, but I do rely on internet translation a lot. I usually run stuff through google, then run it backwards to see just how far off the initial translation was, then consult some actual, like, language learning sites to see if there’s particular idioms or common phrases that use different words than what google will give me, then run those words through backwards in the place of the original words to see if I can massage the whole thing to sound reasonably competent. Languages like Russian or Mandarin (which have their own alphabets/characters) are the hardest, since I have to also try and do a transliteration. I always try to put an apology/disclaimer in the notes any time I write in a language that isn’t English, because I’m sure I make lots of mistakes.

Also, I tend not to italicize words that are in other languages, because it looks weird on the page to me to set the other language apart like that (and because I italicize mainly for internal thoughts or emphasis, and usually what’s being said in another language isn’t internal or being emphasized). I put a rough translation at the end so we don’t have to pause the story for a parenthetical translation, but because the translation’s not right there, I try to either put in enough context clues that a person can still understand what’s going on, or I make sure that what’s written in another language isn’t critical to the overall understanding of the scene.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Officially, it’s AoS, since that’s the only fandom I’ve published for. I think the first true fandom I wrote fic for was probably either Harry Potter (entirely populated with OCs lol, I just liked using the world/setting), Percy Jackson (a mix of OCs and canon characters), or X-Men (all canon characters). I was a bit of a latecomer to fanfiction, though, like, I wrote a ton as a kid, but mostly original stuff, because I didn’t know that fanfiction in its current form was even allowed until I was in high school lol.

Oh! I almost forgot one! I’m not sure if this really counts as a fandom, but it’s definitely the earliest version of fanfic I wrote haha... I was like 12 and I wrote more than one story of an OC joining Robin Hood’s band of Merry Men, and then also one of that same OC becoming a knight of the Round Table, so like... do what you will with that information haha.

19. What's you're favorite fic you've written?

I can’t choose between my two darlings :( I mean, okay, technically it’s probably Important Thing. That story’s my baby. It’s huge and I’ve been working on it for almost 2 years, and I’ve poured a lot of my heart and soul into it. I’ve fallen in love with the universe I built in it, so much so that I wrote an entire prequel and have very concrete plans for a lengthy sequel. But I can’t not crow about Shoulder to Shoulder (the aforementioned prequel!), too... I’m just really proud of that one - it has a lot of firsts for me. First completed story. First romance-focused story. First foray into expanding the Important Thing universe. But yes, if I have to choose, then Important Thing wins. That’s a story that I started writing exclusively for myself - to give myself characters I could relate to and to explore a style of AoS fic that I loved reading - and that’s a story I will always and forever be proud of.

I think most people have probably answered this tag game at this point, so I don’t want to accidentally retag anyone! If you haven’t yet, and would like to join in, please do! This is your invitation <3

[mirohed]

park seonghwa | the trouble with twenty

pairing: park seonghwa + fem!reader (theres ONE mention of the reader being female im kinda mad i thought this was gender neutral the whole time)

wc: 3.0k

genre: fluff and angst (but the fluff wins)

warning: mentions of death

concept: when you fall in love with someone that isn’t your soulmate, you give a piece of your soul to them; failure to find your soulmate before running out of soul to give results in one’s death + you stop physically aging when you hit the age of twenty.

a/n: ok holy shit i ,, never finish my wips 99% of the time so im glad this could b the 1% !! s/o to @akokj @cheelix @lvryeol @trulyjaehyuk & finally a big big thank you to one of my irls who’s been w it since its beginnings in early january SDHJS

The universe, you find, seems to work in mysterious ways; you meet your first boyfriend in high school. The both of you are wide-eyed teenagers with no sense of how love works, but it's fine as long as you're together. It's Jongho that sits across from you at the diner and sips from your shared milkshake. It's Jongho that takes you to drive-in theaters and plants a nervous kiss to your lips on the ride home.

It's a sweet love that blooms in the summer, a whirlwind sweeping you higher and higher, and you relish the view. Being with him comes with this sweet, bubbling feeling ("Like soda?" he had joked one afternoon) that begins in the pit of your stomach, spreading outward until you sport matching carefree grins and aching cheeks.

The year is 1939, and you're on the cusp of your nineteenth birthday when all that has gone up begins to come crashing down.

You're about to fall asleep one night when you sit up, a sharp pain shooting through your whole body. You know what this feeling is; you've had to help Jongho through it when he went through the same thing.

Everyone says losing a part of one's soul is both a tragedy and an expected outcome. You've always maintained the opinion that the universe enacts its own cruel, unusual punishment on those who love anyone besides their fated partner. Those you love more than life itself are the ones who end up killing you.

Loving Jongho burns. It sears your whole body with an inhuman heat, and your mouth opens in a silent, pained scream.

And just as quickly as it had come, the pain vanishes, leaving a faint heat under your skin.

You turn nineteen. You still live in the same town you were born in. You reexamine your life.

Growing old isn't for you; too much to do, too much to see. You're meant for things greater than wasting away as his housewife and nursing his children.

A few nights later, you disappear with nothing but a few bags, whatever fuel remains in your car, and the road ahead to keep you company.

You wish you could say you lose track of time from there, but you don't. Time passes, and the world patches itself from years of war and anger. You return to what could be considered the new normal a little hardened from harrowing times, but otherwise no worse for wear.

You spend time with others — enough to break a few hearts. The feeling of new life, pieces of other people’s souls, being breathed into skin that grows older is a high unlike any other. You push down any thoughts of love, running from town to town the second things feel too real for you. Your body stops aging, and it’s a little jarring at first, but you grow used to seeing a twenty-year-old you in the mirror, even as you age far past it.

Your friends and family are still alive and well. You write to them sometimes, letters with no return address. You know your family wants you back, wants you to find the one your soul aches for, wants you tied down. You tried to understand it, you really did, but all it got you were sympathetic looks and a divide that wedges itself deeper and deeper and deeper.

At some point you realize that the letters you wrote, once full of emotion, have become monotonous, mere updates with no real commentary. You stop writing them.

The transition from summer's vivid green to autumn's dusty orange marks your arrival in a new town. You're idly swirling a drink in your hands when you lock eyes with a leather-clad young man from across the bar.

It's 1953 when you meet Mingi. He's exhilaration, speeding down empty land on a motorcycle he keeps pristine. He's everything your parents might have frowned at, bruised and bloody knuckles that have seen one too many bar fights. You come to find that he keeps a surprisingly soft heart locked behind it, one that opens easily to you.

The two of you are on a road trip when you feel that familiar rush, and you help him pull over. He grips your hands, bites into the blanket in the backseat, until it's over. He lets you take the wheel until you reach a rest stop.

You remember the night you gave the second piece of your soul away. It's a chilly autumn night — your anniversary. You hadn't listened to him when he had told you to dress for cold weather, and you were paying the price. Shivering, you run your hands up and down your arms in an attempt to warm up as you get off his motorcycle. It doesn't work, and Mingi notices, doing his best to hide a grin.

"What did I tell you?" he teases. You're about to open your mouth for a retort when he shrugs his jacket off (that same worn leather piece you saw a year ago) and helps you fit your arms in the sleeves. It's an action he's used to, but there's something about the atmosphere tonight that makes your breath hitch. You look up at him, and he grins before leaning in.

The kiss is slow, his mouth moving languidly against yours as the city sleeps below. He pulls away first, biting back a chuckle when your lips try to follow. “I love you,” he whispers as he pulls you into his embrace.

And again, the pain that makes your blood boil. Somewhere in the haze of pain, between bunching your hands in his shirt and loud curses into the night, you tell yourself this is the last time you give your soul to another.

You feel a subtle pain in your chest as you head to the next town, leaving Mingi and the memories in the rearview mirror.

Time passes, and you see enough winters to make you sick of snow. You become the longest-lived person in known history, and it makes you famous.

You're contacted to speak about your accounts from major historical events (none of which are particularly useful), and find yourself in movies and documentaries, on talk shows, and more than once as a speaker for a new museum. There was a point where you could turn a corner and someone would recognize you as the only living "immortal."

It's one of those corners turned, on one of those countless winters, that you run into a young man. You don’t miss the way he swallows lightly before clearing his throat to apologize.

You've long since lost track of time when you meet Hongjoong. (But if you had to give an estimate, you'd put it around the 21st century.) You don't think it matters when he takes you for coffee, pulling you into a cozy corner cafe. He draws you in, little by little, and you pretend to not notice.

Where he is open, you are closed — on your fifth date, he tells you that he doesn't think he'll find his soulmate anytime soon.

("The world is too big," he says, bumping shoulders as you walk side by side. "I'm too old to keep going."

"How old?" you ask. He hums, takes a preparatory sip from his drink.

"Almost forty by now, I think."

You wonder if he's forgotten that you must be more than twice his age. Instead you say, "Really? You don't look a day over twenty." He grins at that, a beautiful thing that leads to a laugh you could never tire of hearing.)

You stay with him for much longer than you need to, long after he's given one of the last pieces of his soul to you. You wait for the "right time" to leave, but the right time never comes. Time passes. Seasons change. The two of you stay together for many winters before you finally come to your senses.

It happens one morning when you wake up shivering because he's hogged the blanket (again). As you try to reclaim it, you feel the familiar heat threaten to boil over.

You barely manage to get to the bathroom before the pain begins to crash over you in full force. After it's over, you remove your hand from your mouth, refusing to look at the tooth marks left behind.

There’s no more waiting for the right time, you think over the klaxon that blares in your head. It’s here and now.

Leaving Hongjoong is a terrifying thought, and somehow even harder to follow through with. His love isn't like Jongho's, sweet and awkward; it isn't like Mingi's, a fast-paced adrenaline rush; it's different. Softer. He reminds you of home — or at least, as home as a person can get for someone like you.

And unlike with Jongho and Mingi, the thought of staying with Hongjoong is very realistic. You've caught yourself picturing it more than once, and had to chastise yourself each time.

You pack your things for the millionth time, but as you glance back at your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend, you realize you can't just leave him without an explanation. The years you’ve spent together mean more to you than that.

Hongjoong wakes up hours later to a tear-stained letter. (By the time he finishes it, the ink is smudged and barely legible. His tears have mixed with yours in a sort of last kiss between them, and the thought causes him to sob once more.)

Joong,

If you’re reading this, I guess I must have already left. I wish things could be different I know you, and I already know that you’re gonna take this personally and blame yourself for not being enough. You are enough. You’re more than enough. I think I’m just selfish

Anyway I just want to thank you for...everything. The past few years have been better than I can express, and I think that’s what scares me. You’re the You’ll find your soulmate soon, whether they’re your meant to be or not. I’m sorry it couldn’t be me.

I love you.

Goodbye.

You definitely keep your guard up after that. Through every date you go on and every significant other you burn through, your walls stay up.

You've grown nostalgic over the past decade. Using the wildly advanced technology of who-knows-when, you track down a list of death sites.

You visit your family first. Your heart breaks a bit seeing the empty space in the shared family headstone. This was where you were supposed to be laid to rest. You turn away from the dilapidated cemetery, pulling up the coordinates to your next destination.

You find yourself staring at the fountain in the middle of a shopping mall. According to your holotech, this is where Jongho is buried. Your lips form a disapproving line as you close your eyes and try not to think about how he would have loved this place. You try not to think about him taking you here and nudging you in the direction of the arcade or food court as you rush out the doors.

They've gone and built a neighborhood over the cemetery where you would have found Mingi. From the looks of it, it looks like its residents are particularly affluent, and you can hear him snort in your ear. Even after years apart, you swear you can still smell the strong scent of cigarettes that followed him like a lost puppy. He would have hated his fate, and you offer a morbid chuckle in his memory.

You're crouched beside Hongjoong's tombstone, running a thumb over the warm stone. The birds chirp amongst themselves in a nearby tree, and you're thankful for the distraction. He wasn't buried with another person; you hope he managed to find someone regardless. You read the inscription — To you, forever and always — and swallow the lump of guilt that’s lodged itself in your throat.

It's on a calm spring morning that your holo rings. The centennial edition of a documentary you were in is currently being filmed, and the staff is requesting you interview with them again. You were going to accept anyway, but the producer piques your interest when she mentions another similarly...long-lived person. The trepidation in her voice is obvious, but you ignore it. Instead, you ask for the name of this immortal and to be interviewed with them. ("I thought I was the only one around," you had laughed into the phone. "It'd be good to make a new friend." The producer gave a pitying hum before agreeing.)

You try to search for any evidence of this new immortal, but come up with virtually nothing. You're more than a little disappointed that this person isn't milking their age for all it's worth, but you suppose they’re just more private than you are; after all, their existence is a relatively recent discovery.

When you first meet Seonghwa, you find it difficult to breathe. He's handsome, with a tall frame and a cute smile that would have caught your eye regardless.

Seeing him also hits you with a feeling you've dreaded for hundreds of years that makes your chest tighten. (In hindsight, you should have known exactly who he had to be, considering his similarly long life.) When you make eye contact, you can tell he feels the same immediate attraction. He has the audacity to smile.

"Finally," he murmurs. It's reverent, as if he's finally fulfilled his life's purpose. Your clench your jaw, ball your hands into fists so tight your knuckles go white, and narrow your eyes. Your heart's going a mile a minute, and you're choosing to interpret it as anger.

You've spent centuries building your fame on a foundation of nothing but broken hearts and your own ambition, and for what?

You're not sure how old you are when you find yourself on the downswing. You know that your body will start to physically age, and in about sixty years, you will have met the same fate as everyone you've left behind. The thought leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, but you swallow it, at least for the time being.

The interview goes off without a hitch, and you make to leave after thanking the staff when —

"Wait!" Biting back a curse, you continue moving (and make an effort to go faster). Unfortunately, Seonghwa's more than capable of keeping up with you.

"Look," he begins, running a hand through his hair, "I don't claim to know your relationship situation, but I'd at least like it if we were friends." He focuses on the polished toe of his shoe and gives an anxious chuckle that seems to be more for himself than you. "After all, we're soulmates. You might not believe in them, but I've imagined what it would be like to finally meet my soulmate since I was young."

You don't know how (you blame the universe), but you go out for lunch with him after that. Much of the meal is spent in silence (although you've got to take the blame for this one), and it's not until you're almost done that he strikes up a conversation.

"Were you hiding?" He twists the straw of his drink between two fingers before making eye contact.

"I don't hide. You've probably seen me around in some ad or another on the holo. Maybe even before that, when people still used computers and printed newspapers." He narrows his eyes a bit, trying to remember, but comes up with nothing. "I always thought it was you that hid. I've been all over the world, but this was the first time I've ever heard news of another immortal."

"I believe in fate. I've taken things as they came because I knew that in the end, it would be you and me. Turns out I was right."

You don't know how (you're still blaming the universe), but you exchange contact information. You go on more...friendly excursions with Seonghwa.

("Why not cut out the middleman and call them dates?" he asks, settling down on the couch next to you.

"They're not dates. We're not together, are we?" You turn the movie on, marking the end of the conversation.

When you fall asleep latched onto his arm, your head on his shoulder, he plants a soft kiss on your forehead. You wake up that morning wrapped in a blanket that wasn't there last night.)

You don't know how (actually, you do), but "friendly excursions" eventually turn into dates.

(The two of you sit at a park bench, listening to rustling leaves and the distant noise of cars passing.

"Is this a date?" you ask, taking a spoonful of his ice cream, your own sitting empty on your lap.

"They're not dates," Seonghwa parrots. "We're not together, are we?"

"Let's change that. Date me?"

"I thought you'd never ask.")

Dating Seonghwa is much like being wrapped in a warm blanket. He's caring and sweet and so thoughtful that it makes your head spin. You realize that somewhere along the way, you had lost the joy and wonder that came with life. Luckily for you, each date (whether it's a shared pizza in his apartment or a hike somewhere new) restores an optimism that you didn’t know you missed.

Decades pass, and the two of you are on your daily walk. Your bodies start to show their age, but when you look in the mirror, you still see youth alight in your eyes.

("When we first met, I thought that it was all downhill from there, but I was proven wrong."

"It's been a long time since I've heard you say you were wrong."

"And each time, I tell you to not get used to it.")

When the life slips away from you both, you promise to meet each other in the next life and every one that follows.

The universe, as mysteriously as it may work, hears this request and tucks it away, ready to see it through.

[far-away-stars]

Zholem Dhars seems pretty interesting can you tell me more about him? What does he his face look like? How did he get captured? Does he remember his Past?

oh dear, bless, thanks for the interest! ♡ (this has gotten long, please sip a cup of tea)

So! Zholem Dhars was captured by a squad under the control of Darth Abraxas, an hybrid group of people between military and Sith hand-picked specifically with the purpose to bring live Jedi to the Empire. He wasn’t chosen for any specific reason, if only that he was an easy target at the time (because he was young-ish -in his early twenties-, and something of a very idealistic and newly appointed knight), but he had been “studied” from afar for a while, to study weaknesses and mentality type, and eventually isolated and subdued.The project at the time had been mostly finalized on troopers and other non-sensitives, Abraxas being a popular “motivator” in the military first and foremost, but his purpose was to design a “training” that could make defective Sith and Jedi more.. obedient in the long turn. Zholem Dhars was one of his first catch, or at least the first one he planned to take his project on in its entirety instead of only making him a crash test like many others. So he took his time, and it did end up being quite successful for a while.

Zholem Dhars had been “broken” -thanks to alchemy, poison, torture and “talks” personally led by Abraxas himself-, enough to somehow reduce him to an obedient husk, and to nourish an alter-ego for the Jedi that the Darth had designed to his exact needs.Zholem Dhars hadn’t completely disappeared, but he was secluded to a secondary mental state, essentially passive/sleeping. His new persona was “Lord” Scretzio, who was basically a puppet, a blank state for Abraxas to mold. He wasn’t cruel or evil per se, but certainly “emptied”, devoid of resistance. His memories and ideals and such were somehow still present, but essentially dormant, put aside in a box where an unconscious part of the Zabrak could feed -useful to have a part of him knowing what he was being done was bad, was inhumane, but even better to have that voice being put to silence- but far from his conscious mind.

Scretzio was taught around, used here and there for all sort of things. He fathered two children during his time in the Empire, one born out of a violence he had been ordered to inflict to a servant (poke @trashmuh ) and the other from a Sith Lord enthralled by the pretty “game” that the brainwashed Jedi represented. He was in many ways like a child or a slave, but with the years this Scretzio truly started to become a person of his own, taking life as Abraxas creation but taking shape from experience -for as much as he was allowed in his “experiment” environment.Probably the building of an autonomous consciousness -even if distorted and limited and shaped by his surroundings-, that started to awake again his “original self”, Zholem Dhars, first as distortion of consciousness, his old persona fighting desperately against the bounds of his current active mind, lashing with personality disorders, lapses of consciousness, memory loss, hallucinations, etc- eventually breaking his brainwashing with heavy scarring.

Zholem Dhars re-emerges from his brainwashing after five-ish years of Imperial life, almost completely “absorbing” the Scretzio persona as if taking back control of his own body after years, but the identity crisis that this all brings leads him very close to his downfall. What was “Scretzio”? The one doing all those horrible things? Where is “he” now? Who is Zholem Dhars? Were they one and the same all along? Can the former Jedi sleep knowing he may not be the same waking up? Was it “Scretzio” doing those things or was it really Zholem Dhars all along?The guilt, paranoia and general PTSD brought him to a point where, even back among the Jedi (having sent a distress signal while still in the Empire that allowed him to be rescued and Abraxas to be killed and his projects overthrown), he got pretty close to ending his own life more than once.All the outside help he received -from Master Vhan’Zham, Master Hiet Frodynn (poke @hfbeasty-legacy ), for example- helped him come to terms with at least part of all that, and despite ultimately leaving the Jedi, he did start on a route to be again at peace with himself. Went to Voss, Illum, went on to do some “vigilante” work.. The one real thing he truly closed himself from were his children, because he just couldn’t deal with the reality of that, so he only knows the child he had with the Sith Lord Lorvania had been rescued by the Jedi, but he refuses to see her. He knows nothing of the other child (honestly, probably doesn’t even know of his existence, since the servant had run from the Empire pretty quickly after being abused).

Those are his looks in game as Scretzio (the purple hue of his skin and the white hair are due to the “treatments” he underwent during Abraxas’ experiments, the yellow eyes are from the dark side corruption; originally he had brown hair and green eyes) :

And those are his looks some time after being freed (the scarring he made to himself during a very bad nervous breakdown, the darkened skin around eyes and mouth is the second step of the violet hues after months of stopped “treatment” and may possibly go away with time) :

In general I headcanon him with longer hair, and probably tattoos running down a bit more on his neck/shoulders but aside from that his looks on game are my main ref.

Sorry I may have spoken more about Zholem Dhars than his “Scretzio” persona, but honestly that is still partially WIP since I haven’t had the chance yet to build much around it, but those are the basis, I hope they satisfied! :3 Don’t hesitate to ask more precise questions if I skipped them over!

(btw most/some of the characters mentioned above (Abraxas, Vhan’Zham, Lorvania and his “mysterious” daughter) belong to a friend of mine! :3 So I may not be able to answer precise questions about them without consulting him first.)

[khrsecretvalentine]

Happy Summer Holidays !

Ohay, I hope your summer is going great, I didn’t know what to do exactly so this gift goes..a little wild, I’m so sorry about it, I really hope you’ll enjoy it nonetheless !

Tsuna – Undertale A.U ♪ The, long-awaited, day off finally arrived and Tsuna counted on it to rest and recharge after the endless trainings Reborn loved to inflict him under the crushing sun. The comfy hammock seemed to be well tied to the trees rising in his garden and he took place on the outstretched piece of fabric with a satisfied smile on his face, the pleasant little wind brushed his hair off his face as he closed his eyes and sighed with content to the incoming nap. An uneasy feeling stroke him hard in the guts as the sleep began to engulfed him and a frown painted his face when he realized he wasn’t able to open his eyes anymore, the mesmerizing words of Morpheus danced around him as he choose not to fight against the troubelsome feeling, how wrong he was. The nervous sensation eventually faded and he found himself walking in the dark, a cold fresh air hitting him as if winter was coming, finally, a faint but warm orange flame appeared few feet ahead of him, so close but so far as well. Tsuna extended his arm, ready to catch the flare as his speed increase and without any warning, the source of light was nowhere to be seen and this frightful sens punch him in the stomach again; he felt his feet leave the ground followed by a no-end fall. After what seemed a whole decade, his back hit the ground with a dull sound and a groan escaped his lips as he lifted up on his elbows, looking around him questioningly. A bitter smell of mold stuck to whatever dark cavern he found himself in, and he got up as quick as possible wiping his dirty hands on his pants a disgusted look on his face. He pondered, for a minute or two if he had to sit here and wait for someone to rescue him, after considering ten types of possible and awful death in this place, he breathed deeply, and with a sharpened ear, he took the decision it was way better to go find the exit himself but before he could entered the only noticeable corridor, a little voice caught his attention. «May I ask where you’re going without any instructions Tsuna idiot?» After a jump and a swallowed scream, Tsuna scrutinized the empty room in order to spot the so-unwelcomed-baby-voice, until his eyes landed on a throat-clearing grunt to his feet.Here he was, in all his glory, the Arcobaleno dressed like a sweet and radiant sunflower in a pot, before the young man could open his mouth, the blossom peeped again. «Howdy-ssu. And welcome to our marvelous world, if you want to get out of here, there’re several things you should be informed about;First thing first I’m your best friend, I only want your well being and I dare you to think otherwise. Then if you want to return to your world safe, there’s only one solution..Kill or be killed. - Whaaaa- Re-reborn what the? What are you talking about, why are you in this outfit? Where the hell am I ?!» At the sound of his name and the hint of untrust in Tsuna’s voice, the ground began to tremble under his jar, his leaves contorted and withered in frightening way, as pointed rows of teeth bloomed on his less-sympathetic face. The Vongola Boss took a step backward, stumbling on an impressive root slowly wrapping around his leg as the creepy mouth made his way toward his calf. «Got you!» What seemed like Yamamoto's voice echoed in the cave and two strong arms caught him by the middle as he was lifted and threw on a large yet soft shoulder, he watched the horrible figure shrink on his field of view unable to catch the smirk she was sending their direction, while his rescuer didn’t stop to flee. After few turns and bridges, the cold fresh air of the outside hit Tsuna’s face and relief invaded him as he glimpsed at the end of this nightmare, his savior dropped him harshly on the ground, and Tsuna’s coccyx would definitely remember the shock. He passed a hand in his messy brown hair, before letting a smile play on his lips, he lifted his head, ready to thanks his friend as he stopped on two hairy feet. His hues followed a massive body to reach a horny face with two long goaty ears ornamenting a Rain guardian smiling face, Tsuna couldn’t hold back his scream this time and backed away far enough to be out of range from this inhuman-Yamamoto-being adorning a questionning look on his face. He ran, ran until he wasn’t able to breath anymore, he walked throught these ruins for an ungodly amont of time, ignoring the creepy noises from the stones and red bushes, he didn’t look once around him, and he was certain he already passed these stairs two times.He finally stopped his race in the middle of snowy woods, his feet roughly sinking on the white powder which didn’t seem real in the middle of summer, his chest heavy, his eyes closed, he let his back slipped against a tree trunk, trying to catch his breath, repeating like a mantra in his head; «It’s not real. It can’t be. Come on, you’ll open your eyes and everything will be back to normal, take a deep breath, two, and three, it’ll be okay.» His heart beat calmed down a bit and he opened his eyelids slowly, how he wished to find himself back in his room, but he regreted quickly to not have whished to see again the plenty of firs surrounded him. His hues were welcomed by a toothy grin, litterally, under a plaster covering what looked like a hole, and two deep dark cavities, digged in naked skull, were piercing his soul few inches from his face. A long bony finger came to touch his chin as a loud and excited cavernous voice came out of this bone heap. «Kyoko-Sans guess what I found!» With a terrifying scream, Tsuna wake up on the soft grass of his garden, matted between wires and stuck like a mummie in his shakedown. A hoarse laugh made him stop in his track as he was stuggling to free himself from his fabric-jail, someone was visibly trying to help him get out of there and when his face reached the air, rays of sunshine prevent him to see the helpful hand, he squinted as much as he could, to only decrypt the dark letters on the shirt above him.. «Jog Boy». When realization stroke him, he got up still wrapped inside the hammock, jumped above the fences and ran in the middle of the street sshouting from the top of his lungs, leaving behind him, a dumbfounded Ryohei who was just passing by while warming up for his training.

As this Undertale story wasn’t too summerish, here are some additional little stuff (:

Xanxus - ♫ Xanxus closed his eyes, inhaling softly the bitter scent of salty sea and wooden fire which will probably coat his clothes with a not-so-nice smell, but he didn’t care at all. The sound of the waves softly dying on the bank and the distant ruckus of the party rocked him slowly as he enjoyed even more the little break he gave himself. Toes in the sand still warm from the day, he sighed comfortably sitting in the back of his chair like throne, drinking one more gulp of his scotch, leaving an empty glass in the crook of his hand. When he opened his eyes again, he let his hues wandered around the leisurely moves of the sea enlightened by the moon, cold and shiny rays kissing each mount and valley she had to offer. He stopped on the curvy figure in the water, the white dress she was wearing fitted her forms perfectly as she ondulating graciously like the flame of the campfire to his feet, no splash was heard as she danced to the rythm of the soft breeze and she disappeared in the depht with a beat of eyelashes. He scrutinized the horizon, unable to discern the chimaera who charmed him, after a while, he let out a curse and plunged the hand in the frozen bucket to retrieve the bottle and pour himself a new full glass. With a full swig and a wince, he closed his eyes again, letting the clear movements of this bewitching mermaid haunting his mind until the end of the night.

Daisy - ♪ Children don’t understand what’s different, but it doesn’t excuse them. Children are mean. Children are stupid. The sun was shining brightly when the institute decided to took all the young patients to the beach, as most of them were already running in the sand toward the water or making team to play with a ball, Daisy didn’t pay attention to the crowd movement around him, focusing on the hermit crab at his feet, blinking under his straw hat. After long minutes of studying the environement, the little child got up, a bucket and shovel in one hand, his pink bunny dragged behind him in the other, he fell on the ground with a muffled ‘thud’ and turned his attention fully on the plan stucked in his head. Hours passed as the nurses relayed themselves to pass sunscreen on his back and nose as Daisy never lost his concentration, eyeing from time to time the returned pail next to him above whom throned King Bubu, spotted by the sand. A smile crept to his thin lips as he got up and admired, proudly, his fortified castle perfectly executed, built in the image from his favorite book. After double cheking the solidity of the foundations, he drew near the not-forgotten bucket and lifted it slowly, he carefully slipped tiny fingers below to retrieve the small crab. The little guy struggled as much as he could, pinching whatever skin he could reach, leaving bleeding scratches from time to time, but the boy never let him go until his claws touched the main room of the vast mansion. Daisy got up, wipping the sand off his knees, he hugged the plush back against his body, before adressing a last sentence to the curious shellfish visiting his new dwelling. «It’s not funny to wander around all lost and alone.. here, a home just for you, I hope you could finally be happy in there.» With those final words, he turned his head to the sound of his name toward the accompanists waving in his direction, he threw one last glance full with envy to his new friend before joining back the crowd, dragging feet, never letting go of his only friend.

Fon - ♫ He was a man of passion and simple things, listening to the tiniest sensation of his body triggered by what the world has to offer and he couldn’t have asked for a better lazy day. The slothful wind of the hot summer throught his yukata, the sensation of the fresh grass on the bare skin of his feet and the juice of the tasteful fruit he was chewing were the only things that matter for Fon at the moment. He always loved Summer as far as he can remembers, celebrations and festivals, mild night temperatures that allowed him to sleep on the ground of his garden, clear starry sky and laugh of kids running everywhere in the streets. The sound of the slamming door echoed in the house and reached the yard, informing the return of friends and family, without a word, Luce took place on the wooden floor of the terrace, crossing her legs as she positioned herself under the sweet rays of sunshine humming a soft tune. A tired smile touched Fon’s face when the first few notes reached his ears and he opened an eye, welcomed by the true beauty of the sincere blue sky ornamented with the delicate branches of the cherry tree above him. He grabbed the last piece of mango, bringing it to his lips as he closed his eyes again, rocked by the lullaby, enjoying the peaceful time before the incoming raging storm.

From @in-the-name-of-the-holy-reborn to @quietsilenceus