#wip: acolyte

[camillenrose]

[ Reference ]

#oc: eclair #wip: acolyte #artwork #original Art #character introduction #oc #wip #writeblr #artblr #writerblr #digital art #Original character #character design #it's time to (again) introduce a character before I introduce the wip #it will happen I swear it

[chalkrub]

couple of character concepts I’m working on for svanhildr’s friends :^)

#my art #furry #anthro #wolf #hare #a lot to work on but i like them....... #oc #herbert #wishbone #herbert is the hare and wishbone is the wolf #herbert's a fellow acolyte and wishbone's a townie #also their heights are wrong here but nevertheless. this is technically a wip but i don't know if i'll finish it so i'm posting in case #ALSO i just noticed their names are alliterative lmfao. herbert hare and wishbone wolf

[aphroditesacolyte]

Meryl and Diosia

Ch 6. // Plan Reformed // Read on AO3

Masterpost

Summary: Meryl's day out with his best friend, Bondi, becomes suddenly complicated.

Content warnings: Fear/anxiety, profanity (a given in this story lol), drama I suppose

~Approx word count: 1,538 words

================================================

The air was filled with a sense of laughter and reminiscence, a nostalgia pleasant and warm, much like the sunlight spilling into the water. Meryl took in the vibrant fuchsia colour of the scales before him, and how they brightly and playfully struck against the water, splattering some of it across him. He couldn’t retaliate, though, he merely laughed and kept on with their conversation. As always Bondi was so easy to talk to, open, pleasant. They told each-other everything—there was hardly a secret between them, save for just the one thing: Diosia.

He hadn’t the heart to tell Bondi, he didn’t want to pass off that sort of stress. So, it was the one thing he was keeping quiet about. Besides, it was all very contained; Diosia would strictly follow their schedule of seeing one another every two days, and otherwise he wasn’t a problem. Sure, the terrifying idea of visiting and never coming back loomed a little, but he wouldn’t be stopping himself from having to go back by telling Bondi. He’d just make Bondi anxious for him beyond all belief. It was better this way, the way where everyone was perfectly oblivious to the peril he was in, and where everyone was satisfied, content.

The idea of someone being upset or dissatisfied terrified him, too; And that was the wonderful thing about Bondi, that he didn’t have to be scared of upsetting him. Bondi was always so accepting and understanding, it made him feel safe. He was secure with Bondi, and no situation could make that otherwise, as he was a safety haven, a shoulder to cry on and a shield. He was a wonderful friend who didn’t deserve to be burdened with the stress or drama of Diosia’s presence.

Although he had to admit, Diosia was quite pleasant to be around as of late, not even being a little bit cruel, however always ever so slightly menacing, and vague. Either way, Diosia wasn’t someone he needed to worry about with or around Bondi—the two were very pleasantly unrelated and disconnected—and while they spent their time together within the shallow water by the shore (in the middle of the day) it would remain that way.

To his ire, based on the SPLASH sound behind him and the face of concern Bondi had, Diosia had other plans. He let out an exasperated sigh and turned to see a familiar, sly face whose legs were fully submerged in ocean water without a care.

Every.

Damn.

Time.

Couldn’t he enjoy a little time by himself that wasn’t at least 50 feet below the surface? These antics were starting to seem needy.

Diosia’s focus immediately centered on Bondi, and he looked over to his friend to see their sentiments were shared. They both looked as though they were sizing one another up, leaning in and gazing at each-other. Bondi’s brows were furrowed in concern, and he moved closer to Meryl, protectively.

Bondi broke the silence.

“What do you want?” Bondi questioned Diosia, subtly grabbing onto Meryl and pulling him away from Diosia as he asked.

Bondi’s voice carried a lot of spunk, which seemed to fuel deep, rich, eerie laughter.

“Oh—“ even within the water Diosia managed to prowl, curving around and inadvertently pressing them up against the shore. “—I’m simply here to discuss matters with my lovely companion,” He gestured to the mer in question. “Meryl.”

The distrust and distaste in Bondi’s expression was immediate after he huffed a dry laugh in response.

Diosia tilted his head, a smile still sharp as ever as he questioned, “Why, haven’t you told your friend of me, Meryl?”

Meryl shook his head. “I uh… here—I’ll introduce you guys. Bondi,” he said and looked to him before setting his gaze on Diosia. “This is Diosia, and Diosia, this is Bondi.”

Diosia came closer and peered. “Why, he looks like he’d make a lovely snack while you and I chat.”

“That’s not very friendly, Diosia.” Meryl scolded.

Bondi simply crossed his arms, a slightly amused smirk on his face. “Try me, big guy.”

Diosia practically lit up at the remark, and slowly sauntered up to them both before leaning in, staring at Bondi closely. Bondi reciprocated, eyes bold and equally narrowed on Diosia as the two seemed to test one another. Meryl almost leapt between them as Diosia began to pounce, but Bondi’s reaction time was much quicker, and much more clever. Diosia gasped and stumbled back, having been struck directly in the gut by a precisely aimed tail, as his wings flapped and he tried to gain back his balance. For just a moment he hunched over with a slight wince—so strangely vulnerable—before he stood up fully and smiled once more, recovered.

Bondi’s smirk was a little smug. “Shoulda been scarier. I wouldn’t have felt emboldened.”

Meryl stared between the two of them, feeling dreadfully helpless. He had no control over Diosia, and no reason to tell Bondi not to defend himself but… Bondi really was being too bold. He was always bold. Diosia took it as a challenge.

“Very well,” Diosia said with a somewhat dramatic turn as he moved himself a little distance away and paced, or more so treaded, through the water. After a moment he added, tauntingly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Bondi’s mumbled-whisper crept into his ears. “Who the fuck is this guy?”

“I’ll explain later,” he answered briefly before turning to Diosia. “Is there something you need?”

“Ah, yes.” Diosia laughed a little. “I apologize, I got rather distracted.”

Meryl smiled sweetly. “It’s alright, it’s just… I’m pretty sure we agreed to only meet every two days, and I just saw you last night so…”

“I know, I know—and I truly do apologize Meryl, it’s simply that something’s been weighing on my mind as of late.”

Bondi smiled amusedly and then mockingly replied, “Oh?”

Unlike him, it was fairly clear Bondi had no time for Diosia’s… antics.

Diosia’s eyes narrowed on Bondi for a moment before he discarded whatever thought he might’ve had and continued on, “As for our visits, I’d much rather them stop. I was wrong, and I most certainly should not treat anyone in such a way. I hope perhaps one day you’ll forgive me, but as of now simply know you are free and we mustn’t see each-other anymore.”

Meryl’s eyes widened in shock, and Bondi took it as his invitation to hurriedly shoo Diosia away. He sat there, frozen, unable to take it in as their bickering became a background noise until Diosia disappeared. He didn’t move a muscle until Bondi urged him to speak.

“H-huh?” He murmured, still half-submerged in a shocked daze.

Bondi moved in front of him. “Explain.”

The demand somewhat snapped him out of it, but now his mind rushed for the words.

“Uh… what do you want to know?”

“Oh, what do I want to know?” Bondi repeated with a sassy bob of his head. “Mmmm, let me think, that’s a hard one…”

Meryl laughed a little, out of both nervousness and good humor. “I’ll explain it simply: I met Diosia, the next night he saved me from a group of fishermen—“ as he spoke on Bondi looked… somewhere between immensely concerned and appalled, jolting back slightly. “—and then I thought we’d never see each-other again because I wasn’t gonna go out at night anymore but then he found me during the day and…“

The rambling went on until eventually Meryl had gone through just about everything he could (although he certainly skipped a few of the… worse details) and had given an answer to every question Bondi could ask.

“So… he’s an asshole.” Bondi concluded in such a plain, blunt way, like a mere step forward as opposed to the five miles Meryl was just forced to run.

Meryl shrugged a little, hesitantly.

“Well, I mean not completely…” he trailed off.

Bondi nodded. “Right.”

Meryl quietly, sheepishly repeated, “Right.”

Finally, Bondi smiled, somewhat gently.

“Meryl, I’m not mad at you.”

“I… I know.”

Bondi surged forward and gave him a steadying hug before he tenderly withdrew.

“On the bright side, it sounds like he got bored so you don’t have to worry about him anymore. HOWEVER,” Bondi looked to him sharply with a pointed finger. “Don’t you go above the surface or by the shore alone. Just ‘cause he probably moved onto someone tastier doesn’t mean he won’t come back for you later.”

Meryl frowned, to which Bondi paused for a moment.

“You don’t… think he actually did that to be nice, do you?”

He couldn’t reply, and so Bondi gently sighed and moved on.

“Let’s just… keep our distance from creatures specifically designed to eat us, yeah?”

Meryl nodded in agreement, a break would from Diosia would be good. “Yeah. I’ll stay safe Bondi, I promise.”

Bondi smiled kindly once more. “Then c’mon,” he came up to his side and playfully jabbed him with an elbow. “We can celebrate your new found freedom.” He teased.

Meryl laughed slightly, “Alright, alright. Let’s just focus on something else now.”

And so, they did.

However, they were both a little wrong. It was far from over.

================================================

<- <;- <- Last Part | Next Part -> -> ->

#original characters #original writing #acolyte's stories: meryl and diosia #fantasy writing #oc story #romance writing #oc: diosia #oc: meryl #original story #merfolk oc #siren oc #oc writing #original fiction #story writing #my wip

[crawlfishcult]

was working on a hive gal a while back

need to get back to working on this

#hive guardian #acolyte #destiny2 #destiny art #oc #doodle #sketch #wip #lucent hive #myart

[mantleoflight]

//.... Alright I honestly didn’t know there was human fanart of Savathun

//But now it’s making me think of a line Shrike/Whisper gave Immaru in one of my fanfic wips when he caught her grieving over Echo being changed as a Hive

____________________________________________

“Still sulking, spark plug?” Immaru asked as he passed by Whisper’s hiding place.

“Go away,” the other ghost croaked. “I’m grieving, not sulking.”

Immaru snorted. “Grieving? What’ve you got to be grieving over? You’ve got life an’ your guardian don’tcha? And you two did what ya wanted, didn’t ya?” He lowered his voice to a bear smug growl. “Ya ‘put things ta rights’. Whada you got to be grieving over?”

In a split second, whatever patience Shrike had snapped. With a feral shriek, she launched herself at the other ghost, grappling him in the teeth of her shell. The two danced a furious pace as Immaru struggled to get out of her grasp.

Shrike held on, the teeth of her shell gripping tightly to the round form of the First ghost. Her blue eye fixed on him like a vibrant laser light threatening to disintegrate him like the beam of a trace rifle.

“You have no idea what it’s like,” she snarled, her blue eye fixed on Immaru’s green. “You have no idea what it’s like to get your guardian and lose them all over again—” Her voice cracked and she glanced away, recovering before gazing at him again.

“I want you to remember her, Immaru,” she growled, the digital gravel of her voice almost matching his own. “I want you to remember every inch, every aspect of your risen. Every centimeter of bone and every trace of pride and cunning. And then I want you to watch as it’s all stripped away from her and what’s left is put into a tiny human body that has to figure out how to exist again. That’s what’s happened to my Guardian. That’s what I’m upset about, and you cannot tell me that if the same happened to Savathun, finding a way to turn her back into her proper form, her real form would not be the first thing on your priority list.”

With that, the armored ghost released him and drifted back, giving space between them. There was silence for a time as Immaru thought about Shrike’s words and gave a rough, guttural chuckle.

“I wouldn’t have to,” he said easily. “Savathun would already have it figured out. And if she didn’t, then it wouldn’t be long before she did.” He hovered higher, closer, looming over the other ghost. “But that’s the difference between you and me, spark-plug. See, I know my risen. I know when she gets knocked down, when she loses everything, she’ll get right back up and take it back over again. I know, ‘cause that’s how Savathun is. You can take everything away from her—mind, body, whatever, and she’ll get it back again. Maybe not through the same channels, but it’ll get done.”

His green eye fixed on Shrike, her blue one gazing up at him through the slats in her shell. “Shame you don’t have the same confidence in your guardian, huh? I would’a figured you neon lightbulbs would’ve had that down pat by now. Ah well, won’t need to worry about it soon anyway. Always need bodies to throw at the guardians and your risen’s as good as any.”

With that, the First Ghost turned and vanished back to his Risen, leaving the Shrike with the weight of the words he’d left for her.

____________________________________________

#|| whispers of a shrike || #Shrike || Whispers hive song #Hive!Echo || Ehkos the Traverser #Ehkos the Acolyte || Hive!Echo #ehkos || Hive!Echo #wip exerpt #//Whisper does actually end up warming up to Immaru #//But less of a ''warming up'' #//and more of a ''friends through muscles except violence'' kind of way #//they mutually respect each other and when Whisper finally begins to accept being a hive ghost #//she might become his lieutenant #//Might #//wip still in progress

[stygiansun-totaleclipse]

Stygian Sun: Total Eclipse - WIP

DEMO TBA

After the deaths of your four oldest siblings, taken from you by war, your older sibling, Nour, once fifth in line for the Solar Imperial throne, is now the heir. 

This day never should have happened. 

As recompense for the ravages your kingdom’s war has inflicted upon the Lunar kingdom of Celestyl, and as assurance it will not happen again, your sibling is to be sent to Celestyl to marry the Lunar King’s heir. An arranged marriage, meant to unite the kingdoms. Or, at least that’s how everyone prefers to phrase it. But you all recognize this for what it really is: a guise. Your sibling will be a political hostage.

And—Theia, grant you guidance—you have had a premonition this is not the worst to come. Should your sibling go to Celestyl, they will not survive.

So you will take their place.

Stygian Sun: Total Eclipse is a dark fantasy interactive fictional story where you play as the sixth child in the proud and grandiose Solar Imperial Dynasty and leave your homeland for a foreign country, where you will take your sibling’s place in an arranged marriage to the heir to the Lunar Kingdom. But something sinister simmers on the horizon—you have felt it in your premonitions; apprehension crawls beneath your skin, foreboding pricks at the back of your neck, dread sinks low and heavy in your stomach. Theia is warning you—of what, you know not, but you have seen the way the Lunar King looks at you. His stare, the dagger, and you, the sacrificial lamb on the altar.  Beware the wolf, little lamb.

Content Warnings: "Stygian Sun: Total Eclipse" contains many upsetting themes, such as arranged marriage, child abuse, child neglect, death, murder, sexually suggestive scenes, optional sexual content, suicidal ideations, and more. "Stygian Sun: Total Eclipse" is intended for mature audiences 18+. Viewer discretion is advised.

Customize your MC's name, gender, pronouns, appearance, personality, and sexuality. Play as straight, gay, lesbian, bi, poly, or asexual.

Shape your personality through your choices and see how it affects dialogue with other characters.

Navigate through the difficulties of court life in a foreign country.

Develop your magic—powers bestowed upon you through your divine bloodline.

Romance one or more of five romantic options, including your betrothed, the Lunar heir; your charming and overly flirtatious retainer; your acolyte, a priestess in training; a kind yet darkly mysterious Celestylian noble; or a peculiar and chaotic mage.

Develop deep and lasting friendships or make enemies.

Kill some parents.

Uncover a sinister plot that threatens everything you hold dear—and decide what you will risk to protect it.

Nour al’Teia, your older sibling. (Gender dependent on MC’s. She/her. He/him. They/them.) Non-RO Once fifth in line for the Solar Imperial throne, Nour was perfectly content to play a supportive role to Parim, first in line, and the rest of their siblings. Now first in line for the throne, Nour is doing their best to step into a role they were never prepared to fill. Despite their best attempts to reassure you, you can tell this weighs more heavily on them than they let on.

Kieran Zeleskas, the Lunar Heir. (Gender Selectable. She/her. He/him.) RO The Crown Prince/ss of Celestyl. Though not of noble birth, events put into motion by their father have elevated them to this position, one they seem to have adapted to rather well by all appearances. Stoic and aloof, they seem less than pleased about this arrangement between the two of you. You’re inclined to agree.

Alektis de Celestys, the lone princess. (She/her.) Non-RO The adoptive sister to Kieran. The slaughter of her family during the coup that brought Kieran’s father to power has rendered her irascible and hostile to most everyone. Though she mostly keeps to herself, with only her retainer, Nihm, for company, you often find her tumultuous glare trained on you, a complex look on her face you can’t quite decipher. (Character portrait coming soon.)

Nihm de Circené, the guardian. (They/them.) RO Devoted retainer to Alektis and last surviving member of House Circené. Kind and sociable, Nihm is well-regarded in both noble and commoner social circles alike. However, their warm and affable disposition cannot completely hide the apprehension in their gait, nor the trembling in their hands. Still, they do their best to welcome you in a place where everyone seems dead-set on hating you. (Character portrait coming soon.)

Aurynn Anouar, the retainer (He/him.) RO Seeming to have appeared from out of nowhere, Aurynn rescued you from a dire situation during your first battle experience, and afterwards was appointed your retainer and has served you as such ever since. Charismatic, laidback, and flirtatious to a fault, Aurynn tends to either charm or annoy everyone he meets. Despite his insistence that he is an open book, sometimes you can’t help but feel the opposite; indeed, everything about him seems shrouded in secrecy. 

Samira Nahdiri, the priestess (She/her.) RO Certain events left her family deeply shamed and nearly destitute until her exceptional accomplishments as a healer elevated her to the renowned position as your acolyte, drawing upon the power of your blood to learn healing magic in her pursuit to become a priestess. Strong, loyal, and compassionate, she is devoted to caring for her family above all else, and she counts you among them.

Lilith/Lucien de Arcanis, the mage. (Gender Selectable. She/they. He/they.) RO The adopted heir to House Arcanis, a line of powerful and highly skilled mages. Wild-eyed with a wolfish grin, their peculiar and eccentric mannerisms tend to unsettle their peers, leaving them rather isolated in social circles—a circumstance which doesn’t seem to bother them one way or the other. For better or worse, it appears they’ve taken a rather intense interest in you.

Poly Routes (subject to change): Kieran/Aurynn, Samira/Aurynn, Lilith/Lucien/Aurynn.

#interactive fiction #twine wip #twine if #twine game #twine interactive fiction #twine story #if wip #fantasy #dark fantasy #interactive game #interactive story #wip if #upcoming if #romance #status: wip #if: intro #stygian sun: total eclipse #stygian sun total eclipse #sste-if #sste #sste: kieran #sste: aurynn #sste: samira #sste: nour #sste: alektis #sste: nihm #sste: lilith #sste: lucien #sste: mc #interact if

[sugareey-makes-stuff]

Spring time means...flowers? And boys in love, apparently. I usually don't like drawing flowers, but digital vs. traditional is super different, so I might have to reconsider since it was actually nice?!! I guess it depends what kind of flower you draw, and thankfully carnations are on the easier side and floofy. You can also view This Heart of Mine on AO3. This piece was drawn for @merlintarotfest using The Citadel Oracle Deck for a card reading of The Shepherd (celebration and/or family), The Thief (seizing the moment and/or selfishness), and The Acolyte: (new projects and/or learning). Also fills a @merlinbingo artist square using the hex color #4FB477 (aka a really gorgeous and nice green for the spring!).

And okay, I guess my inspo really wanted to see soft boys having a stolen moment of love. I'm going to assume Arthur and Merlin don't have a lot of time to take a breather to express their feelings for each other openly, so in this moment, that's what they get. That's totally what they deserve too, right? More love and hugs and Nice Things. I actually like how this piece came out, considering that this derived from a WIP I ended up scrapping, but what totally influenced my colour palette. Sometimes, going with the flow can make some magical things happen. Anyway, happy April, and if it's nice where you are, go enjoy the outdoors!

#merlin tarot fest #merlin bingo #merthur #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #merlin bbc #merlin fanart #art rec #self rec #my art #sugareey #do not repost

[inthecards]

In the Cards - Chapter 5 Release

In the Cards is a WIP interactive fiction where you play a budding psychic learning how to use your powers. There are currently five chapters released, totaling approximately 147k words.

After receiving your grandmother's tarot deck, you start seeing hints that not all is right in the world of the spirits and fae... and you're about to be caught up in the storm that's brewing.

You've always had psychic powers. Reading auras, speaking with the dead, and channeling spiritual energy through runes - these number just a few of the things you're capable of. It's not an unusual gift in the kingdom of Khepris, though it's uncommon enough that you've only met a few other people with such abilities in your small hometown.

After a plague sweeps through the kingdom, unrest bubbles up in the realm known as the Beyond, home to fae and spirits alike. A group of fae who call themselves the Butterfly Court are testing the boundaries between your worlds, and they don't seem to care what harm they may be causing along the way.

With a deck of tarot cards imbued with mystical powers in your possession, you're pulled into the struggle against the Butterfly Court. You must join one of two organizations - the King's Guardians or the Hounds - in order to fight back against this mysterious court… or risk losing everything.

Select your own gender and sexual orientation

Befriend or romance one of four characters

Specialize in different psychic skills: intuition, mediation, or concentration

Perform castings - the human version of magic - to subtly influence the world around you

Collect tarot cards and consult with spirits

Uncover a hidden plot that threatens the border between your world and the Beyond

Investigate the Butterfly Court by joining either the King's Guardians, an elite guard loyal to the royal family, or the Hounds, an alliance of fae and humans alike

Although romance is not the main focus, I enjoy a good love story as much as anyone. The main character is 16-17 for most of the story, so the romance won't go beyond PG-13. If you're not interested in romance, no worries - it's not an essential part of the story.

Since these characters won't make an official appearance until a few chapters on, I'll only post their names and tagline for now:

Deigan, the Stalwart Squire (m)

Deigan is the sort to only speak when he has something to say, and being taller than most, tends to strike an intimidating figure. In reality, though, he is quite kind and considerate, and believes in using his natural talents for the sake of the kingdom.

Odissa, the Sharp-Witted Sage (f)

Odissa is a firecracker with a wit as sharp as a knife and twice as dry. Despite specializing in runes and sigils, she's not the type to hole up inside and drown in text. She has ambitions to become the city's most in-demand sage and the drive to make it happen.

Rekai/Reika, the Free-Hearted Fae (m/f)

R is young for a fae and enthralled with the human world. They enjoy traveling to different places and partaking in local cultures, particularly food and dance. They can get along with pretty much anyone and like to make friends wherever they go - but of course, that doesn't mean they haven't made a few enemies, as well.

Niran/Nira, the Gentle Acolyte (m/f)

Kind-hearted and patient, N tends to be shy, especially when meeting new people, but can be quite talkative once they feel more comfortable. They believe strongly in using their gifts to help other people. When you first meet N, they're studying to become an acolyte and later a priest of the World Temple in Tepar.

This game is rated roughly PG or PG-13 - some violence, topics around death (you're a psychic who can talk to the dead, after all), and other adult themes.

The demo can be found at Dashingdon. You can also check out the thread at the Choice of Games forum if you want to send me a message there.

Also, if you enjoy it, please consider supporting me on Ko-Fi.

#interactive novel #tarot #choice of games #if wip #choicescript #cyoa #if game #interactive fiction

[chiefbeifongcanrailme]

Okay, bear with me here- but an AU where Tenzin marries Pema, an acolyte he meets on Air Temple Island (cut the age difference) until one fine day he meets Lin, he is totally smitten and has fallen head over heels in love with her. Lin reciprocates but can't get herself to get attached to a married man.

Do Pema and Tenzin get divorced? After two kids? Two airbenders. Is divorce worth the risk when he doesn't even know if Lin will have him?

Will Lin finally break free and confess her feelings to him? Does she really expect him to leave his wife for her?

Does Pema know her husband's in love with another woman? Is she going to do what it takes to keep her man?

Does Bumi swoop in to woo the woman he doesn't realize that Tenzin is in love with. Does Lin feel like she needs to move on and accepts Bumi's advancements? Or does she have wild rebound sex trying to forget Tenzin?

It's kinda like Willow 🫱🏼‍🫲🏼My Brother's Girlfriend but with more twists and turns and drama haha. I don't know if it's the brain rot or the way I've been in my Linzin feels. Whether it's my personal life or my playlist right now, Linzin is keeping me afloat. Linzin is and will forever be my Roman Empire.

Also I've got SO MANY Linzin one-shot wips help

#merkittty talks #mrrrow #lin beifong #chief beifong #linzin #tenzin

[sparklepocalypse]

Last week everyone was like, “good thing AO3 doesn’t do a ‘your year in review’ thing like Spotify!” and this week we’re all like “anyway here’s my 2023 AO3 year in review!” So. Anyway, here’s my AO3 year in review -- thanks to @anincompletelist for the tag! Open tag — if you wanna participate, do it! If you don’t, don’t; I’m not the boss of you.

Check it out under the jump:

2023 by the Numbers

Published Words: 123,740 since the RWRB movie pulled me kicking and screaming out of a semi-permanent fic writing hiatus in late September 2023. (Yeah. All those words in essentially one quarter of the year. I am bonkers.)

Published Stories: 37, all in the Red, White & Royal Blue movie fandom -- 22 of them are also tagged with the RWRB book because I kept character descriptions vague enough that readers could self insert whatever characteristics they wanted. All of them are Alex/Henry (be still my little ‘shipping heart).

Unpublished Words: 28,113 and counting in the Big Giant AU (KHIX). I have no other WIPs with actual story written in them, currently, but I do have a to-do list that’s 33 ideas with various levels of detail long.

Most Recent Drops

Sip You Like Cosmic Juice [rated E, 3,122 words] inspired by @orkazh-arts’ rugby!Henry piece. What if RWRB, but Henry plays rugby instead of polo? Alex POV at the charity sporting event. Oral sex, banter, and Henry’s thighs.

So I Will Weather the Storm [rated E, 9,804 words] my RWRB Advent fic. What if RWRB, but Henry's a helicopter rescue pilot in the RAF and Alex falls off a mountain? Oral sex, anal sex, Christmas. One of my favorites!

I'd Wanna Be Felled By You, Held By You [rated E, 2,310 words] my take on what happens when Alex lets Henry borrow his clothes at the lake house. Oral sex, making out against walls, anal sex, possessiveness.

On My Mind (Let's Go) [rated E, 10,751 words] my NYE fix-it fic where Henry boxes out Green Dress Girl, seduces Alex with dance, and gets his damn kiss (and more). Oral sex, anal sex, anal fingering, Henry’s ballroom lessons. One of my favorites!

Top 5 By Kudos

What's Symbiotic Will Always Be [rated E | 2,622 words | 1,157 kudos] The one where Henry develops a breeding kink. Out of all of my Kinktober fics, this one is the most qualified to be called absolute filth. God I love this fandom.

Take it Down Low / Make Me Get High [rated E | 2,092 words | 971 kudos] The one that’s been described by at least one person as “that rimming fic.” Again, you degenerates are fabulous.

In the Low Lamp Light, I Was Free [rated E | 3,156 words | 750 kudos] The one in which Alex bottoms for the first time in Paris, because there are two condom wrappers. Now we’re getting into my genre: porn with feelings.

I'd Wanna Be Felled By You, Held By You [rated E | 2,310 words | 670 kudos] The one in which possessive Alex really likes Henry wearing his clothes. One of my more recent ones and one of my favorites.

On My Mind (Let's Go) [rated E | 10,751 words | 601 kudos] The one in which Henry gets his New Year’s Eve kiss (and then some).

My Favorites Published in 2023

Only including fics that don't appear in either of the other sections above, so I don't clog up your dash with the same link multiple times here...

Bloom [series | rated M/E | 7,655 words] the fandom’s first sex pollen ‘verse on AO3 (unless someone wrote some without tagging it; I checked more than once!).

This is Holy Ground (The Flesh I'm Made Of) [rated E | 3,491 words] the fic in which Alex is a god who’s new to the whole deity business, and Henry is his acolyte.

Down On My Knees; Wanna Take You There [rated E | 7,787 words] the Renaissance Faire AU with glory holes and Pancake, the best horse in the universe.

If We're Caught in a Wave (I Will Carry You Over) [rated E | 5,944 words] the fandom’s first tentacle porn fic (again, unless someone wrote it without tagging it, as with the sex pollen). Alex is Alex and Henry is a cecaelia — AKA octoHenry.

Slide, Crawl into the Shades of Light [rated E | 4,851 words] the fic in which Henry has a bad week and asks Alex to overstimulate him into oblivion.

Amazed at How We Talk (Once, Successfully) [rated E | 8,782 words] the fic in which Henry and Alex don’t get hit by a cake, and Alex goes on Grindr at Buckingham Palace — AKA the harlot flat fic.

Blame My Poor Romantic Mind for the Mess We Made [rated E | 1,570 words] the fic in which Henry writes poetry on Alex’s naked body and then tops him.

A Few Other Stats & Facts About My Fic

Which RWRB canon did I lean on? Well, it should be no surprise to any of you that I’m an RWRB movie writer if you read the first chunk of this post. 100% of my RWRB fics published in 2023 are tagged with the movie fandom, while 59% of them are also tagged with the book fandom because I kept details vague enough that they could fit with either canon. I did not post a single RWRB fic that was tagged with only the book fandom. (And here’s my secret: I’m always picturing the movie characters when I write fic in this fandom. Always.)

What was my ratings spread? of the 37 fics I published in 2023, 2 were teen and up, 1 was rated mature, and the other *thirty-four fics* were explicit.

Where did my titles come from? All but one of my fic titles were sourced from song lyrics; the remaining title was pulled from a love letter written by Herman Melville to Nathaniel Hawthorne. I also put together a Spotify playlist for my Kinktober title songs.

What did I listen to while writing? A lot of M83 while writing plot and dialogue — enough that it put me into the top 0.5% of M83 listeners on Spotify for 2023. I also listened to the playlist Songs I’d respectfully get railed to while writing smut.

Canon-compliant or AU? While I’ve written a few things that are completely canon-compliant (missing/expanded scenes mostly), I’m a sucker for both AUs and canon-divergent fics!

Things I'm Hyped for in 2024

The Big Giant AU (KHIX): I’ve been working on this since September, but then Kinktober happened, and then Kinktober burnout happened, so I only recently started plugging away at it regularly. It’s going to be long. It will make people ugly cry. It will make people giggle. It will probably make people [redacted]. It’s already 28k words long, and I’m nowhere near finished. This will not be published until the first draft is complete, because I know me and abandoning WIPs.

Hanahaki AU: I’ve never written this trope but I love it and I need to do it. The end.

Runaway Prince: Henry runs away. Alex finds him. More to come. (Them to come as well.)

More in the Ren Faire, sex pollen, harlot flat (no cakegate), and octoHenry AUs.

And a few movie AUs and one-shot ideas I've got up my sleeve.

#red white and royal blue #rwrb #rwrb fic #alex x henry #firstprince #alex claremont diaz #henry hanover stuart fox #my fic #rwrb movie #henry fox

[spellbooking]

𝐔𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐬. Taylor (or Tay) ✶ he/him ✶ oc obsesssed creator ✶ queer-aimed content (geared towards MLM, yes the gay kind) ✶ gif maker

Feel free to vent to me, I’m all ears ❤️

tags: bg3 gifs ✶ oc page (WIP) ✶ ask me stuff

about: ✶late 20s ✶ currently working on my masters in counseling ✶ fictional pixel men soothe my soul (Gale, Halsin, Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish)

OCs (OC page a WIP): 🍃 othello nulara: tag ✶ high elf ✶ circle of spores druid ✶ the haunted one ✶ chaotic neutral ✶ shipped with gale & halsin ☄️ corvus faye: tag ✶ high half-elf ✶ shadow sorcerer/gloomstalker ranger ✶ the haunted one ✶ chaotic evil ✶ shipped with shadowheart 🏹 percival bodwyn: tag ✶ wood elf ✶ ranger ✶ folk hero ✶ chaotic good ✶ shipped with halsin 🎻 beauregard barrek: tag ✶ mephistopheles tiefling ��� college of lore bard ✶ entertainer ✶ neutral good ✶ shipped with wyll ☀️ lancelot winterbourne: tag ✶ human ✶ knowledge domain cleric of lathander ✶ lawful good ✶ acolyte ✶ shipped with arthur 🛡️ arthur stronghart: wood half-elf ✶ oath of devotion paladin of selune ✶ lawful good ✶ acolyte ✶ shipped with lancelot 🩸 lucan vayn ✶ high elf ✶ trickery domain cleric of bhaal ✶ chaotic evil ✶ the haunted one ✶ shipped with astarion

ships: ♥ touched by the weave: othello & gale (tag) ♥ our hearts do stir: othello & halsin (tag)

#tay.txt #pinned #finally got this DONE #oc page next #just gotta find the motivation

[camillenrose]

[ x, x, x]

#thought it's time to share a bit of my writing c: #writing excerpts #i already posted this on instagram a while ago but reposting it here can't hurt right #wip: stormbringer #wip: silk #wip: tobw #wip: acolyte #writeblr #writerblr #writing #writers of tumblr

[semperintrepida]

A Sneak Peek at Deimos!Kassandra, From My Current WIP...

Here's the opening scene from "Irredeemable." Note that this is a draft, so the text will likely change between now and the final version. But hopefully there's still plenty in here to get excited about—and I'm going to need your excitement to stay motivated with this one; I've got a very long way to go to reach the finish line.

~~~~~

Once, her name was Terror.

Deimos, they called her, and other epithets, too. The Butcher of Pylos. The Sword of Order. The Champion of Kosmos. With a demigod's blood flowing in her veins, she'd cut a burning swath of bodies across Greece and forced the leaders of nations to their knees. She was the Chosen One, destined to bring order to this world, and she'd risen to every challenge, eliminated every enemy, conquered every polis, until her goal lay within her grasp—

But Alexios had stopped her.

Alexios the Eagle Bearer, hero of Greece. Alexios her brother, who had shown her that everything she'd known of herself had been a lie. Alexios, who crouched beside her now, in the shadows of a dank and foul cave, watching a priest of the Followers of Ares unsheathe a dagger while three acolytes dragged a woman to their bloody altar, her pleas for mercy bouncing uselessly off the cave's stone walls.

"What now, brother?" she asked him, keeping her voice low and quiet, though she needn't have bothered—the captive's shrieks filled the chamber. The air thrummed with fear. She breathed it in and allowed herself a moment to savor it. Then an unwelcome twinge shot through her ribs and she glanced at Alexios, glad that he hadn't turned around to see her. She nodded at the altar below. "Skulking in the shadows like rats won't save that woman."

Alexios stirred, then pulled the Spear from its sheath, the blade of the dagger-like weapon shining liquid bronze in the dim torchlight. "I'll take the ones at the altar. You take the reinforcements."

"Finally," she muttered, but he was already gone, having used the godly power of the Spear of Leonidas to launch himself at the priest with the speed and force of a thrown javelin. She was alone, as she preferred to be. She jumped into the center of the chamber, landing lightly on her feet, and as she strolled towards the passageways that would bring her amusements to play with, she whistled between her teeth and stroked the pommel of her sword.

Behind her, metal gnashed against metal as Alexios fought the priest and the acolytes, and the sound of battle called a handful of Followers into the chamber a few moments later, their weapons drawn and ready. But when the man leading the charge caught sight of her standing in his path, he stopped short, his drug-addled eyes wildly darting between her face, her gold cuirass, and her white pteruges. "Deimos?" he asked.

She smiled and drew her sword. "Ready to meet your god?"

The acolytes stared at her in confusion, the friend they expected having turned into an enemy, and in the space of their hesitation she drew upon the endless rage that boiled within her and channeled it into her sword, its grip growing hot within her fingers. She thrust it point-first into the ground, unleashing a concussive wave of force that knocked the acolytes off their feet. In its wake she followed, walking among the dazed figures and dispatching each one with quick thrusts of her blade.

As she finished off the last, more rushed into the chamber through the second passageway. She glanced at the altar, where the bodies of the priest and his minions lay in the dirt, and grinned at Alexios as he joined her in the fray, his sword and spear flashing as he cut a path through the acolytes with a fluid grace that always surprised her.

Her own style was far more direct. Holding her sword ready, she watched a pair of acolytes approach, her eyes flicking between the elder's spear and the fanatic's axe, reading the intentions behind the shifting weight at their knees, hips, and elbows with practiced ease. She'd spent twenty years learning to glean meaning from the slightest of movements, and when the point of the elder's spear thrust towards her throat, her counter-attack unfurled with the snap of a winch suddenly released: her shoulders turned to let his spearpoint pass by harmlessly while her sword whipped around to cut his throat wide open. With her free hand, she caught his now-falling spear out of the air, spun it around, and let the onrushing fanatic impale himself upon its point, his axe tumbling from his dying grasp.

She was sudden force applied with lethal effect, more like the strike of a snake than Alexios's whirlwind of blades. The Cult of Kosmos valued efficiency almost as much as it valued obedience, and its philosophies had been drilled into her by trainers who'd made her into a weapon unlike the world had ever seen.

These Followers of Ares were unworthy foes, clumsy and disorganized. As Alexios sliced through acolyte after acolyte, she amused herself by devising ways to turn their own weapons against them. A spear here, a sword there, smiling at their surprise as they died by the very blades they'd carried at their sides during the day and kept by their pillows at night.

The fight ended as suddenly as it began, the chamber falling silent but for the crackling flames of torches and braziers. For a time, nothing moved. Then a muffled sob drew her eyes to the cages that lined the cave's walls—and the pathetic figures huddling within them.

She flicked the blood off her sword and slid it back into place on her belt, then stepped over the first of several bodies between her and the cages, pausing once to pick up a fallen axe along the way.

A man's voice drifted out from between the bars. "Please, warrior, free us from this monstrous place. They've been feasting upon us for weeks."

Cannibals, these Followers of Ares were. A decade ago, they were an unorganized group of zealots who believed that consuming human flesh would imbue them with the power of Ares himself. Then Harpalos had come along, using his charisma to quickly anoint himself their leader and build them into an army, one that the Cult had welcomed with open arms.

Lunatics, all of them. But after the Cult convinced Harpalos of the power in her bloodline, he and his minions had become useful in their obedience—and Deimos had found herself worshipped as a god by followers who kidnapped innocents across the land and devoured them in sacrifice.

A row of terrified eyes watched her. In the before times—before Alexios had dragged her down and made her mortal, with a mortal's guilt—the sight of that much fear would have put her in a good mood for days. Now, it felt like a leap from a high rooftop: a momentary rush of delighted freedom, followed by a painful slam back to earth.

She hefted the axe, hammered it against the lock until the hasp split in two. And as she tugged the door open, the captives' terror gave way to a grateful relief that engulfed her in waves, as incomprehensible as the babble of a foreign tongue.

Then Alexios opened the other cage, and she tossed her axe aside and nodded at him silently as she joined him. The captives burst from the cages, running for freedom without stopping to thank their saviors. She would have done the same, had she been in their place, and as it was, she shook away a shivered memory of confinement in a cold darkness, surrounded by unyielding bars.

All the captives fled except one. In the doorway of a cage stood an old woman, a woman who stared at her with piercing eyes.

"You," the woman said, pointing at her. "They called you Deimos. I heard them." Her voice was strident, and she stepped closer without fear. "You're the Butcher of Pylos. And Amphipolis. My son..." and then, quick as a viper, the woman spat in her face.

The woman was right: Deimos was her true name. She had not asked for it, but it had been given to her all the same, beaten into her with fist and lash and other cruelties, multiplying the terror inside her a tenfold, a hundredfold. The Cult had encouraged it and nurtured it, training her to it like a grapevine to a trellis. They'd taught her to find pleasure in releasing terror back into the world.

And she'd been very, very good at it, her infamy spreading far and wide.

Warm spittle slid down her cheek, yet she didn't move. And here was Alexios, placing himself between her and the woman. He held his palm towards her as if to keep her from doing... what? Flying into a rage? Killing someone?

Her heart beat itself against frozen ribs. She forced herself to draw in a breath. Then she turned, wordlessly, and walked away, heading for the passage that led out of the cave, surrounded by the echoes of the woman wailing behind her.

"She murdered my boy. My boy. And now she's saved my life. Oh, the gods are cruel, to make me live with this knowing."

Once, not long ago, she would have killed the woman without another thought, but now she wiped spittle from her cheek and placed one foot in front of the other, fixing her eyes on the ever-moving darkness at the far end of the passageway. She tried to keep her breath steady, even as the stone walls seemed to take on the sheen of metal, closing in around her, the air smelling and tasting of copper.

When she finally reached the cave's entrance, she stumbled into the sunlight, dizzy and reeling, and she doubled over, hands on her knees, and retched into the dust.

The cave opened into a hollow in the hillside. Further down the steep slope was a road, and to her left stood an enormous carving of Sisyphos struggling with his boulder. He loomed over this corner of Korinthia, as big as a mountain.

Her feet somehow brought her to a stony outcropping that overlooked the entire valley, from the city of Korinth all the way to the sea, and she stared at the people traveling the road far below in lines like ants, until she heard the rustle of grass and the soft creak of armor, knowing without turning that it was Alexios who approached her.

"Kassandra?"

That name still meant nothing to her, but she would have to learn to answer to it. "What?"

Alexios clambered up beside her. "Are you all right?"

She kept watching the people below. "Yes, I'm just fine," she said, letting her voice twist with sarcasm. "Skewered some lunatics and got spat on for my troubles. Just fine."

"You just saved a dozen lives."

Now she turned to him. "You saved a dozen lives," she said. "I wouldn't have even stopped." She'd been minding her own business as they'd walked the road earlier in the day, and it had been Alexios who'd spotted the blood-spattered banners waving their dire warning on the hillside above them. Of course he'd dragged her along with him to investigate. That's what heroes did, apparently. Wandered around the countryside, looking for people to save.

"What happened in there..." He breathed in, searching for words. "Pylos. Amphipolis. It was war." They'd even crossed blades in both battles, fighting on opposite sides, but neither duel had reached a conclusive ending. "How many do you think I've killed?"

His clumsy attempt to soothe her feelings nearly made her laugh. She doubted Alexios's number was as astronomical as hers. Even if it was, had he enjoyed each murder as much as she had? "My crimes run far deeper than fighting for a nation I cared nothing about," she said, and then she smiled, knowing it would make him squirm.

She had tortured him once, her fists slamming into his flesh, and she'd basked in the delight of making him hurt the way she had for so many years. But he'd simply hung there, pliant at the end of his chains, blood running from his nose and the split in his lip, asking her, "Why, sister? Why do this?"

His words had only stoked her anger hotter, and as she raised her fists to begin the next round, he lifted his head to look at her with those bronze-flecked eyes so like her own, and his gaze never flinched, not once.

Sister, he'd called her, every time their paths crossed.

What kind of sister would do such things to her own brother? She felt another retch begin to build deep in her throat.

It would've been easier if she'd made him kill her on that clifftop on Mount Taygetos. She wouldn't have to remember his grunts of pain every time she looked at him. She wouldn't have to figure out how to live under the crushing weight of the terrible things she'd done. Just one lunge—towards him, towards their mater—and he would've driven his Spear through her throat and sent her to Hades's doorstep.

She wasn't a fool. Eternal torment was all that awaited her in the Underworld, but an easy death was a coward's way out and she'd been far too proud to take it—only realizing too late that pride wouldn't keep her from going mad once the Furies came calling. Tisiphone's invisible hand was already at work: the closer she and Alexios got to Athens, the more she'd been recognized, each confrontation forcing her to stand face to face with yet another person she'd wronged.

She wasn't sure how much longer she could bear it.

"Let's go," she heard herself say, turning to begin the long journey down to the road without waiting for Alexios to answer, and as they picked their way down the rocky slope, she spared a glance up at Sisyphos, his granite face too contorted with agony to stare anywhere but the distant unknown.

#wip: irredeemable #deimos!kassandra #kassandra #ac odyssey

[catchingbigfish]

writeblr reintroduction 🗝️

hi! call me elle (she/they). i'm a 30 y/o writer & i follow back from @prettytothink-so! i'm also studying for my MA in english, focusing on literature with an eventual thesis on the topic of haunted houses as social commentary. my main functions as a bit of a studyblr, bookblr, life-blog combo.

i write fiction characterized by horror & gothic themes. i write about relationships, families, and found families, and characters in my work go through exquisite and grotesque things, including body horror, hauntings, broken and warped time, eroticism, nightmares, eco-horror, and possessions. my work is nsfw and 18+ due to horror, violence, and sex.

i'm always open to ask and tag games! if you're interested in my wips, see below the cut. i'd love to get to know other writers, esp if you write/read any of the following:

horror and gothic literature

body horror, eco-horror, nightmares, and dream logic

dysfunctional families (found and of-origin) and their dynamics

romance, including sex, and relationships, esp. in horror themes

i also write poetry, characterized by confessional themes and centered on the body. as you might notice, my blog is not particularly minor-friendly, and i try not to follow minors (and will likely unfollow you if i do so by accident). current primary WIPs under the cut!

wips:

so it goes | horror/romance

summary: Marisa Walker, a birth doula and herbalist, sees a personification of Death whenever someone close to her -- literally and figuratively -- dies. When she goes on a trip with her best friends, her FWB, and his girlfriend, she sees Death and wakes up the next day to her FWB's girlfriend missing. They go home, and Marisa must navigate life in the shadow of the missing woman. She isn't alone in her family, though, and the stories of her mother, aunt, and grandmother's own encounters with Death unfold alongside hers.

status: in revisions; on the backburner

tag: #wip: so it goes

conversion | dark litfic / satire

summary: Rosalyn arrives to Abbadon University for her fashion-making MFA sick with an unknown illness and a fresh diagnosis of hypochondria. Her professor, famous for her work chronicling her experiences with medical misogyny, has an exotic illness disputed by medical professionals, and a group of acolytes -- other students whose symptoms remind Rosalyn of the illness still brewing in her body despite the doctor's dismissals. When she begins to fake the visible symptoms, the professor and her acolytes welcome her into their ranks and Rosalyn finds the care she's been looking for her entire life. She has to decide what price is worth paying.

status: active re-writes in the second draft; primary project

tag: #wip: conversion

#writeblr #writeblr intro #bringing this version back #with updates! #again! #i found it because someone liked it! #thank you mysterious benefactor!

[girl-with-goats]

fruits of your labour

fruits of your labour [Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger, E, 13,574 words, WIP]

Hermione is an acolyte in Minerva's temple, keeping her secrets and talents safe from the outside world. However, when a god of war comes to the temple to choose his bride among the young acolytes, the bubble of her inner peace is burst. As Draco takes interest in her, she's in for a wild ride to discover not just the world of the immortals, but her sexuality, too.

Just posted chapter four 🍇

#dramione #dramione longfic #hp fanfic #draco malfoy #hermione granger #smut fic

[heretolurkandnothingmore]

WIP Wednesday

It's going so slowly, but it's going! "It" being my obikin fic. (See previous posts here). (See illustrations for this idea here). I finally got myself to work on the wedding scene. Except they don't know the alien tradition they're participating in is, strictly speaking, a marriage. So, this is an out-of-body mind meld experience done purely for tactical advantage*. Enjoy! (Also, is this excerpt too long? It's for science. I'm trying to figure out how much of a scene to post next time.) *a blatant lie

"A… link, you say?"

They sat in front of the Mystic, a middle aged Danaan woman with golden scales and deep dark eyes. At her side, a tiny droid shadowed her speech in unsteady Basic. Her acolyte, a pale-scaled and long-feathered teenager, stared at the Jedi and radiated a mixture of fear and fascination in the Force. The Mystic's aura was radiant. She was obviously powerful.

"It would be like an echo- sorry, a connection device of yours." the old Danaan said.

Anakin barely suppressed a snort. "Except this one would work in your karking caverns," he thought.

"Many of the Danaan share such bonds and speak even when separated. One could be the brink of the Abyss and another in its depths and they'd still hear each other's thoughts."

"Seems… Deep. For a connection." Obi-Wan said. Anakin caught a brief ripple of worry from him from the surface of their bond.

"The joining is perfectly reversible, if that's what you wish to do once your mission is done with." The Mystic continued. "It's a simple ritual it just needs some paint so I can draw- Mithra, what?" The acolyte whispered. "Sigils. That's the word."

"Paint." Obi-Wan scratched his beard. "We'd have to check it for toxicity. If that's allowed."

"Be my guest. It's just minerals."

Mithra bolted somewhere in an unsteady wobbling run and returned with a pot of paint. She waved at the Jedi to go ahead and followed the Mystic's measured steps as the older Danaan left to prepare the necessary tools.

Obi-Wan dipped the very tip of his pinky finger into the thick slurry. The two men waited, cloth at the ready to wipe away the paint if it were to start behaving strangely, but it didn't.

"Just some minerals indeed."

"Then nothing is stopping us from doing the ritual." Anakin said, voice thick with relief and still-lingering tension.

Tunics removed and (in Obi-Wan's case) neatly folded, they sat side by side on the dark flat rock. Obi-Wan breathed steadily, probably already in light meditation. Anakin looked at his pale freckled shoulders and shivered.

"Cold, padawan?"

"A little, and not anymore." Anakin said. It wasn't just cold or just longing that made goosebumps race up his arms, though. It was apprehension. It was fear.

Their connection, grown from the training bond they were never truly willing to sever, had always been a comfort to Anakin. A tether to hold onto in the storms that so often ripped through his mind. But he'd learned to control that connection, to shield his master from the worst of it. It was, in its own way, distant - the two of them always orbiting each other.

This, the "Soul Link" or whatever the Danaans called it, would be different. It would set them on a collision course - not the familiar act of their Force signatures brushing against each other, edge to edge, but a melding. Anakin may have envied the Danaans before, when the Mystic mentioned the tradition of joining, two being like one. Now, the prospect of laying out everything before Obi-Wan filled him with trepidation. He wanted his master's acceptance, his approval, longed to reach deep and feel the intensity that laid beneath the surface of Obi-Wan's tranquil, self-possessed exterior. Yet Anakin knew he'd never get his wish. Baring the core of his soul would only show his glaring weakness, his un-jedi-like passion, his fear. How could Obi-Wan accept him if Anakin couldn't even accept himself? What if, like the Jedi Knight himself at times, Obi-Wan got tired of the noise and the pain and the intensity of Anakin's every waking moment?

Still, it seemed that clinging to foolish hope was his specialty.

The Mystic finally came up to him. The deep blue shimmer of her robes was calming and mesmerizing like the waters of an underground lake. Behind her toddled an acolyte with two pots of paint - slate and cyan. Even further behind, Anakin saw the comical figure of the little translator droid.

"We begin", the Mystic intoned. Her deep voice followed by the droid's tinny echo in Basic. "Your arm, please."

Anakin let her hold his flesh arm as she traced some unknown figure into it. The contrast between rough scales and soft pads of her four fingers was strange. The paint was cold and wet on his skin, and the angle didn't quite let him see what picture the curving lines were making. The air hummed with power.

"It should dry quickly." The Mystic said, apparently satisfied.

"Will the connection cut out if I lose this arm, too?"

"The connection is internal," she gestured at her heart. "It's not just in the mark."

Anakin looked over his newly painted arm, still not touching the paint for fear of smudging it. On it, in a labyrinth of blue lines, there was a circle with complex overcrossing figures. They silhouettes looked familiar even when the cyan speckled around them curved into strange shapes of dots and wings. In fact, they looked like…

"Our lightsabers?" Obi-Wan asked. His mark was finished, too and contorted uncomfortably to look at his shoulder.

"The shapes most familiar to you. Now, you have to say the words and touch upon each other's marks to open-" she said something that made the translator droid let out an unhappy squeak and a small fountain of sparks. "Gates to the mind."

Anakin was about to remark on the powers she must have used to scan their memories for those "shapes most familiar", but before he could speak the Mystic continued.

"Mithra, smack that machine, please, I need it to stop changing my words. The Shining Ones need to repeat what I say in normal language."

"No need for violence," Anakin interjected, "I can just turn him off."

The matter of the droid resolved, the two Jedi settled across from each other, arms outstretched. Anakin silently wished he could have a better excuse to touch his master's bare shoulders.

"Repeat after me," the Mystic said, and the everything blurred. If someone asked Anakin to describe what the ritual was afterwards he wouldn't be able to put it to words. Except maybe this: there was nothing else in the world but the two of them. Not even the sensations tethering him to his body held. All he saw and felt were the shining, sharp points of connection between them, his palm to Obi-Wan's shoulder, Obi-Wan's fingers on Anakin's inner forearm. He distantly heard his own voice saying something. The unfamiliar syllables were heavy on his tongue.

Then he felt it - the tentative, warm touch of his master's Force signature against his own, like light slowly spilling out from the horizon at sunrise. It felt- indescribable. Like safety. Like coming home.

"Go on," he heard a smile in his master's voice. "We have to do this properly."

Anakin slowly let himself open up. The gale of the Cosmic Force rushed through him almost immediately. It brought with it the same background noise of the universe that always battered on his shields and made meditating into a battle. His restless rolling tornado of a mind was spinning out of control again, and Anakin felt vaguely nauseous, as if he was in freefall. He clenched his jaw and himself fall, calling out in his mind for Obi-Wan to catch him.

Suddenly, Anakin was enveloped in the sort of calm he long since forgot how to feel. It was like being a child again, hiding from a desert storm on Tatooine behind the solid whitewashed walls of their home. It was like knowing his mother was waiting for him, ready to erase his worries with a kind word, like finding rest and comfort encircled in her arms. Was this how Obi-Wan felt all the time? This… Serenity?

"Not quite." Came the dry response. "You make sure of that."

Anakin released a brief sense of embarrassed indignation into the blurred space between them.

Maybe this was enough for the ritual, but he couldn't help but reach deeper. That's what he wanted, always: to hold on and never have to let go. The always-aching, possessive part of him called out in horror and despair - and something called back.

With Anakin's every breath, it pulsed. It was the darkness at the bottom of the well. A pulsing threat, a beckoning voice, long-denied but still dangerous. It was his own fear, and someone else's, too. Anakin reached in, one breath and then another passing with him stretching out his energy and trying to pull light and warmth into the void before him. It seemed to work, and Anakin felt as if he were touching hot embers of a fire he'd stoked in an empty fireplace. Soon, the heat turned all-consuming, like a star going supernova, like sunlight on the surface of the Sun. It melted away the last of what separated the two Force signatures. He wasn't sure where the separation between them began anymore. Any distinction seemed meaningless. He was but a part of them. They inhaled.

They were basking in the sunshine of the bond. Thoughts flittered past like clouds on the horizon, impossibly distant. Their heartbeat was distant thunder.

It was not to last, a part of them started pulling away. The rest, him, held on, despite the pain and ecstasy of being united and separated, all at once.

"Anakin." came a breath through their link.

Warmed, then singed, then almost seared by the flame, \he\ held on greedily, trying to plunge deeper. Was someone calling him?

"Anakin!" a voice called out. The world abruptly shifted into place, like a ship coming out of hyperspace.

Anakin remembered he had ears, and fingers that clenched white-knuckled into someone's firm shoulder. Obi-Wan's shoulder. Oh. He let go and winced at the blooming reddened impressions left behind on the skin.

"Oh. Sorry, Master, I-"

Obi-Wan waved him off. The older Jedi looked as dazed as Anakin felt. He cleared his throat.

"I think we did it."

"You did." the Mystic sighed. "Very well."

The two men didn't turn to look at her, still to shaken by the experience of the bond.

"Back to the land of the living?" Anakin huffed. The guilt weighed heavy on him. Was he too much?

"You're looking a little pale for 'living'." Obi-Wan deadpanned.

"Did you two know you're speaking with your thoughts?" the Mystic intoned, amused. Her voice rung in the air as if it really did just break a long silence.

They looked at each other.

"We are?"

"You will figure out the difference between tongue and mind soon. Now, go. You haven't much time to get used to the Link."

They went to grab their robes, arms colliding awkwardly. Anakin picked up a sash, realized it wasn't his and saw Obi-Wan staring, confused, at the bundle of dark cloth in his hands. They exchanged grins and swapped items.

"Thank you, Mystic." Obi-Wan called out, once they were outfitted.

She just nodded and turned away to yell after the acolyte, who'd long since toddled away somewhere with the paint.

"Mithra, where did you put that damn ceremonial cloth again?"

The two Jedi walked the corridors of the Danaan temple together, disconcerted, the lines between them still blurry. Anakin basked in the calm warmth of Obi-Wan's Force signature still not quite separated from his. What did they just stumble into? If the link was so strong, what would severing it do to them? It seemed Obi-Wan shared some of his thoughts.

"Seems almost a pity for us to break it after the mission."

"Right. I thought you'd say it's too big of an attachment to have."

"I would." Obi-Wan sighed. "It is."

#hertie's purple prose #obikin #my wips #current wip