#ancient fic

[makiruz]

The premise of this fic is that Fiyercrow has amnesia and Elphaba doesn't know if he's Fiyero or not, so she takes him to test if he is or not; but it hasn't updated in 20 years so we'll never know

Anyway, the dream in the first chap is fantastic and I might steal it, please read it here:

[treenahasthaal]

Ancient Unfinished Fic: Jeremiad

In an effort to kick start my writing I have been converting ancient unfinished stories from Works into Word. I have realised that I will probably never finish these stories, however I wanted to do something with them and thought I’d just post some scenes from them here.

This scene (and the one following) is from a story called Jeremiad and I started writing it in the late 1980s/early ‘90s. It is post ROTJ and pre EU. 

Please be aware it has perhaps PG13 rating for content.

Luke led her away from the valley, away from the stench of death, away from the blood, away from the circling carrion birds, away from the frenzied eating of the Mered. Took her away from the laughter, the glee, the cackling satisfaction as the creatures gnawed on the dead. They walked on, supporting one another, the silence between them heavy with the horror they had left behind. He took her back to the coral, back to the growing rock, to the peace and sanctity of the living Force.

The sun was setting, sinking slowly into the horizon, dispersing gentle colours over the area and Luke had only just settled his back against the sleekness of the walls when she questioned.

“Why did they do it?”

 He looked towards her, reached forward and brushed the first tear from her eye. "I don't know," he confessed. The three words were becoming his favourite saying of late.  In truth this place puzzled him, threw his senses into complete confusion. The Force was awry here, that much was obvious, something was misaligned, unbalanced, and he didn't have the slightest clue as to what had caused it. The environment, the ecosystem, and the creatures it cradled, were dying and it had something to do with the life essence of the planet, something to do with the Force.

 The Force was shifting, heaving. In some places it was strong and vibrant such as here, in others it didn't exist at all. And now, Morvern's own village was gone, its people dead at the hands of marauding bands of leaderless stormtroopers. A purposeless slaughter.

"I don't know what's happening here," he told her, his voice weary, grieved.

“My people…my family…”

He put his arm around her as though he could shield her from the emotions he could sense surging within her, as though he could dampen her anguish by a simple touch.

"It's my fault," she announced. "My fault. It's me.... I know it's me...."

"No, it's not you," he was quick to tell her. It wasn't her. It couldn't be her. And yet, he knew it was. This was the simple truth, there was something wrong here, and that something had been present in Morvern since the day they had met.

 She must have touched that thought for she pulled away, sat upright and looked at him, her eyes bright with fear, with anger at his cruel beliefs.

"I'm sorry," he apologised quickly, reaching out to catch her before she could move away. "Please. ..."

She looked at his hand on her arm, looked to his face, his eyes… Her expression full of desire, full of vulnerability “Help me, Jedi …”

And, somehow, he knew it was not only Morvern asking.

She spread her palm and placed it against his cheek. He felt its warmth, its sleekness against his skin, felt it move towards his mouth, felt her fingers caress his lips. Then she smiled. "No more deaths, Jedi. Only you know how, only you have the power to stop them."

"I don't understand," Luke's voice was a breath of air. Her fingers moved down his neck. Her colours were reddening, the heat beginning to rise from her body. He felt stifled by her closeness, and yet he could not move back, could not break free. Her emotions surrounded him, caressed his mind, stroked his own feelings. "Morvern, I..."

"No more deaths," she told him as she settled a kiss in the hollow at the base of his throat. She took his hands, lay back upon the smoothed coral and he found himself kneeling over her

The Force was a myriad of sensations; it was convoluted, pulsing with potency. It was so strong, the temptation of what she was offering appealing and alluring. She was drawing him to her, to her light, to the innocence she offered so openly. She was goodness, she was joy, she was pleasure. Outside this place they were surrounded by pain, by emptiness and night, by a spreading darkness they could not halt...

...Yes. This way. This is how...See, Jedi? See how it is done...

...here they could escape, if only for a moment, from that which they feared. Here they could find peace, here they could shed their fears and enjoy a snatched moment of happiness. Here they could shut out what was encroaching upon this world and take the love which had grown between them and make it whole.

He could feel her move beneath him, could feel her skin smooth against his own, could feel her colours shift against his paleness. He closed his eyes as he let her swallow him, as he joined her bodily and emotionally... and he was breathing with her tiny shallow breaths, he was tasting his own skin with her tongue as she kissed his chest, feeling his own hands upon her breasts, his own lips upon her neck, feeling himself within her, feeling her muscles tight around him...

...opened his mouth to taste the dark droplets. They were light and delicate upon his tongue, and they wet his skin with warmth, with heat. The water fell harder, heavier, threatening to engulf him with its drumming strength. He turned then and embraced the storm, held it close as its winds raged, as its intensity pounded his body, as it loosed a cry from his throat. And his muscles spasmed, twisted with the effort to hold onto the tumult, until, with blessed relief, the winds calmed to a breeze and the rains became a sheath of fine spray...

...feeling her brush back his hair from his face.

He opened his eyes, looked up at her as she sat astride him, and watched as his own sweat trickled down between her breasts. He reached up and wiped it away before it reached her belly. Then he sat up, drew her hips forward, trailed his hands up her body, cupped her face and kissed her.

"No more deaths, Luke," she whispered, desperately. "Promise me, no more death."

Luke held her in his arms, his head bowed with pain, with shame and he remained silent, his mind's thoughts too easy to read: it was a promise he could never make, for it was a promise he could never keep.

[maidenofmidguard]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 31/? Fandom: Thor (Movies) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Loki/Thor, Loki/Thor (Marvel), Laufey/Thor, Laufey/Thor (Marvel), En Dwi Gast | Grandmaster/Thor, the collector/thor Characters: Odin (Marvel), Laufey (Marvel), Frigga (Marvel), Balder (Marvel), Loki (Marvel), Thor (Marvel), Byleistr (Marvel), Helblindi (Marvel), Amora (Marvel), Taneleer Tivan Additional Tags: Slavery, Loki is a bag of cats, Dark Loki, Master/Slave, Top Loki, Poor Thor, Collars, Sexual Slavery, Overstimulation, Bottom Thor, Slave Thor, Cock Rings, Boys in Chains, Loki and Thor Are Not Related, Jötunn Loki, Loki Does What He Wants, Public Nudity, Public Humiliation, Bathing/Washing, Leashes, gang banging, party favor thor, Jealous Loki, dark laufey, thor whump, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Nipple Clamps, Foot Jobs Summary:

Jotunheim wins! AU where Loki wasn’t taken from his realm, Thor and Loki never grew up as brothers, Loki hates Thor and Everything Asgardian, Wages a second war and wins it with his cunning. See what happens when Loki takes what he wants

[galateaknife]

I wonder if lj user dodger_winslow’s fics are still up.

Anyone remember them? They were fucking great.

(My computer is fucked up and I hate trying to navigate lj on my phone or I’d look them up now)

[onlyonewoman]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

I once wrote a silverflint/gunnbones au fanfic about when your husband secretely starts knitting, instead of asking you, who’s the actual pro. 2016 was a good year.

[biromanatees-like-cats]

Hey look, have a 100-word drabble about why Hiro/Brooklyn is fucked up. 

It was a sick fascination.

Hiro thought Brooklyn was a genius. Brooklyn thought that Hiro understood.

Hiro thought that he could help. Brooklyn thought he was possessive.

Hiro thought Brooklyn was dangerous. Brooklyn was sure Hiro liked it that way.

Both thought Brooklyn was invincible but when they were proved wrong and something essential inside Brooklyn snapped, Hiro wasn’t surprised.

Hiro wondered, had Brooklyn broken irreversibly, and did that really matter in the end, as his beyblading was better than ever?

Brooklyn wondered; who was standing in front of him? Hiro or Kai?

Insanity or genius; such a thin line.

This is six years old and it still pretty much sums up why I believe this ship wouldn't work, and if it did I would be 500% black horror and angst.

[veteranfangirl]

Lafarga snorted. "He should think about the people of his country, not his own petty problems." He had been very grumpy lately.

LaFarga, about Ferio.  My favorite part from one of my first ridiculously self-indulgent and apparently OOC fanfics.