#wn star wars au
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Chapters: 5/10 [46k]
Rating: M
the star wars au 💕
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Back in the Temple with its sun-swept halls, Beatrice had her own little space. A bed full of rumpled sheets and a little bookshelf where she kept her three printed copies of what otherwise lived on the holos. They were cheap but uncommon and she had to trek all the way down into the guts of Coruscant to visit the printer shop where they came out smelling strange and sharp and then softer over time. She’d spend hours there leafing her fingers through all the different kinds of paper. Pressed bark and woven fabrics and the scraped skin of dead things. She always chose synthetic paper, which didn’t adhere to her fingers when she turned the pages.
She had a desk and her sketchbooks cataloguing all the different poses in her lightsaber forms. There was the simple one all apprentices learned and then most of Soresu’s utilitarian shapes. Beyond that a smattering here and there of Ataru and Niman. She loved that room and often came back to find it dusty from her absence.
By the time the war felt almost over there were so few apprentices and padawans left that no one needed the space while she was gone.
There, on occasion, something soft and very beautiful would come to visit her. It was simple and sweet and mildly forbidden, but not love. So she always told herself. Not love because that would have to be the end of it.
She dressed it in different names. It was comfort – a pretty face she can’t call out of memory now, showing mostly the slant of its jaw as the girl it belonged to stared out the open window. Sunset over Coruscant and their hands entwined on top of the sheets, Beatrice’s mouth sore from kissing and her hands aching to do more than form a counter-shape to jawline.
They’d talked about it then – Force-bonds and two souls tangled together in a way that defied language. “Wouldn’t that be nice?” Brown eyes glancing over at her, chasing Beatrice’s away from their quiet observation, “To be so close to somebody you could feel them clear across the galaxy?”
Her hand was bigger, between them, and Beatrice played with a set of slender fingers tucked inside her own as she turned the question over and over in her head. “I don’t know,” she decided eventually. “What if they got hurt? Wouldn’t you feel that too?”
“Wouldn’t you want to feel it, if you really loved them?”
Beatrice hadn’t thought that was the point of a Force bond, but she didn’t say it. “I suppose it would be useful to know if your ally was hurt or captured or-”
“Ally?” Her words, echoed in the parting of a mouth Beatrice was becoming too familiar with. She remembers looking away from it, out the window, and then back after a while. Fingertips scrubbing lightly at the inside of her wrist, the way she liked it. “What other word should I use?”
She’d been a coward, not darling to look away from their entangled hands until they were untangling, the girl next to her squirming out of bed. Standing, turned away so that Beatrice could once again see the strange constellation of scars that peeked up from the back of her shirt. Springing like starbursts up to the tip of her spine.
“Is that really what you want, Beatrice?”
Behind her, at her, Beatrice had frowned in response. She could see the real question hiding behind those words, but what was she supposed to say? This was the cost of holding a lightsaber.
“I want to be a Jedi.”
A low noise, like a hum with something breaking underneath it. A face turning back, the over-shoulder glance she always stole when she rushed into the classroom ahead of Beatrice. “Yeah. Me too.”
That night, Beatrice left the Temple for the last time, and when she arrived in the hanger bay there was no shape hiding in among the starships this time to see her off.
She’d searched, her duffel hanging off one shoulder, pressing into a bruise high on her arm made in the shape of teeth, but there were only droids moving back and forth with fuel lines and new screws and a certain anxious air haloed around their dull metal bodies. Beatrice had asked the other padawans about sensing droids like this, but apparently it didn’t happen and it wasn’t real, so she kept quiet.
Her Master had limped into the hanger with a look almost identical to Beatrice’s and swept her up with a wave of her arm. “Let’s get out of here kiddo. I think we’ve done enough damage for one rotation.”
“Master?”
“Don’t worry about it. Did you pack your books this time?”
Beatrice touched the blocky shapes through the fabric of her duffel, “Yes Master, but wh-”
“Just a feeling, kiddo. Probably nothing.” They walked toward their ship, Beatrice squinting at the back of her Master’s head. Her braids looked a little more unkempt than usual, like someone had tangled a hand in them once, or twice, or many more times than that.
She reached the ship and put her hand against the paintjob – dark skin on polished durasteel – “You learn, as you get older, that some people won’t betray themselves, or what they think they are, no matter how hard you try to convince them.”
“Yes Master.”
Beatrice followed her into the ship, putting her bag in its secure locker and trudging up into the cockpit. She didn’t exactly slump into her co-pilot’s seat, but her Master wasn’t a Jedi for nothing.
“Something wrong?”
Beatrice turned her chair around and pressed a few buttons to test the flight stabilisers, the manoeuvring thrusters. She tapped the fuel gauge, sighed, and shook her head. “Nothing important. It looks like they fixed the rear nitrogen jets this time, Master.”
A pause. “Looks like it.”
And then the hum of the engines, Beatrice settling back into her seat and sweeping her eyes over the hanger bay once last time, checking for stray PIT droids left idle on the launchpad. As she cut from the polished floor up toward the decommissioned ships propped on struts along the walls, her eye caught a flash of sun-kissed brown.
Blinking, just in case, she looked again. Scanning between Lambda-class shuttles folded up into skinny triangles and a T-6 propped a bit lopsidedly with its big fin-shaped body resting on a strut above, to an ETA-2 ACTIS with red and yellow racing stripes.
Beatrice has heard about this particular ship at length, lying on her bed with an astonishing weight resting on her hips – so casual, so breath-taking – listening with her eyes closed to how the ACTIS can reach a top speed of 1,500 kilometres in atmosphere and how its seats are soft leather and how this one, specifically, is fresh off the assembly line and just begging to be assigned to the most gifted pilot on Coruscant.
“That’s me, Bea, in case you need reminding.”
Beatrice did not need reminding. She’d seen this girl fly.
There she was, tucked under one of the raised-up radiator panels that sat on the outermost edge of each wing, her hand pressed to one of the panels and the other resting down by her leg as she crouched, grinning. Beatrice stared at her and thought of the colour yellow and of the feeling deep in the pit of her stomach that they were leaving this time.
She felt like putting that feeling to language would be like putting it up to a flame.
Around her, the starship hummed to life and Beatrice pressed what she needed to press, functioning on autopilot without looking away from the girl crouched on the shiny wing of the ACTIS fighter. Maybe they would give it to her after all, when the war was over and such things were mostly artefacts and mere modes of conveyance.
As the ship lifted away, she watched as the girl, still above her with the decommissioned or not-yet-assigned starships, raised a hand.
She waved, and Beatrice thought again of Force-bonds and what it would be like to feel that hand from lightyears away.
With all her thinking, she forgot to wave back.
And then they were gone, gathering speed to escape from Coruscant’s gravity, the ship getting darker as they turned from the starward side of Coruscant, to wherever it was Jedi were needed.
That night, the Temple fell.
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Once more playing in @daisychainsandbowties LB-verse ‘cause brainrot
A mural of The Ones, the living embodiments of the Force. the Son, the Fanged God. the Daughter, the Winged Goddess. the Father, the Keeper of the Balance. Emblazoned on the walls of the Lothal Jedi Temple, this painting of the Gods of Mortis serves as a gateway to the World Between Worlds.
#wn star wars au#daisychainsandbowties#ava silva#sister beatrice#sister lilith#lilith villaumbrosia#star wars really had to go and make a Holy Trinity of the Force#recreating the mural from sw rebels “wolves and a door”#with some liberties#fic: luminous beings#fic: orbital mechanics#i know we said we weren't going to play with mortis and the world between worlds to avoid breaking casper's brain#but the symbolism here was too great to pass up#(as was daddy bea)#my art
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Fic Finder
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1. For fic finder: Instead of the Sunshot Campaign it is the western vs eastern clans who war. WWX and LWJ are on opposite sides but they recognize each other as honorable. At one point they work together to stop a village from getting flooded/some natural disaster. After the war I think LWJ asks for WWX as a war prize? Thank you!
FOUND! Crossing Paths by Ilona22 (M, 21k, wangxian, shapeshifter au, graphic depictions of violence, war between sects, war crimes, not JC friendly, happy ending)
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2. Hello! I hope you can help me find this fic.
All I can remember is that it is a Post canon married life wherein wwx and lwj get into a huge fight (love quarrel). I think the fight was about wwx safety (lwj getting mad and so on)
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3. Hey, I would like to find a fanfic from the MDZS fandom that I once read on ao3. It was about how Jiang Cheng almost strangled Wei Wuxian after the lotus pier fell. He didn't help him, he just left him. He told others that Wei Wuxian was dead and did not admit to his actions. Lan Wangji then went to look for Wei Wuxian. He found him lying in the forest and thought he was dead. However, it turned out that the boy was still alive, but barely. He came back with him and I think that's when the truth came out and Gusu Lan became very protective of Wei Wuxian. I don't remember if it was a completed fanfic. Thank you in advance for helping me with my search. @braveavocadosstuff
FOUND? 🔒 a star called sun by thelastdboy (E, 120k, wangxian, SL/XXC, JC & JYL & WWX, JYL & LWJ, WWX & WN & WQ, JYL/JZX, Canon Divergence after Xuanwu Cave, Fall of Lotus Pier, But worse!, Power Imbalance, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Not Everyone Dies AU, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Canon-Typical Violence, Sunshot Campaign, Miscommunication, Heavy Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Major Character Injury, Loss of Limbs, Chronic Illness, Seizures, WWX's Three Months in the Burial Mounds, Wēn Remnants Live, Wēn Remnants Deserve Better, WWX Creates a Sect | Yílíng Wèi Sect, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Hurt/Comfort, Selectively Mute LWJ, Service Animals, Crows)
FOUND? Bright Voice Roughly Rendered Softly Silent by Preludian_Staves (T, 26k, WangXian, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Divergence, No Golden Core Transfer, Muteness, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Not JC Friendly, Confessions, Angst, Choking, Red String of Fate, Appearances by Paperman!WWX, Inventor WWX, Good Uncle LQR, WWX goes to Cloud Recesses, Feelings Realization, Caretaking, Supportive Lan Family, Genius WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Protective LWJ, Protective Lan Family, Character Death (not wwx or lwj))
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4. Hello! For ficfinder, whenever you have the time. I have searched the female lan zhan/female Wei ying tag up and down for a fic I very distinctly remember reading. It was about a typical straight girl wei ying never org/asming, and so wen qing and mianmian set her up with well known lesbian icon Lan Zhan. And that conversation was in the fic summary, and there was a whole sequel with Wei ying coming out to jyl and jc. But I cannot find it, any help would be appreciated. (Even just finding out it’s been deleted)
FOUND! sideways by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 20k, wangxian, F/F, Modern, Cisswap, butch dyke LWJ, Casual Sex, not so casual sex, many many orgasms, Fingerfucking, Cunnilingus, strap-on sex, So much kissing, WWX gets rekt, straight girl WWX, except for how she isn't)
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5. Hi! Thank you so much for all you do. Could you help me relocate this fic in which wwx finds out that instead of QHJ, the twin jades were actually conceived by other elders that broke their mother's seclusion so wwx takes revenge on their and their mothers behalf and puts the fear of well, himself, into those assholes? I can't remember what it was called but I feel like it was from LQRs pov (could be wrong tho). Thank you!!
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6. There's this fic that I read so long ago and I wish to read it again but I can't seem to find it. it was Wangxian and Wei Wuxian had his own sect in the burial mounds and I think they come down to Lanling or Yunmeng for a ceremony or competition. A-Yuan is a competitor and so is Jin Ling, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian talk about what happened in the burial mound and how they had survived.
FOUND? The Murder of Crows by cerbykerby (M, 101k, wangxian, slow burn, pining, yiling wei sect au, fluff & angst, dark, romance, WIP)
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7. Hello. I wanted a wangxian fic where lanzhan is the teacher and the juniors are his students. But they don't know that he is married. They make a group chat and later they get to know that lan yuan is lanzhans son, but he doesn't say anything about his other dad to his friends later when they get to know they ask him through chat.. At last they all get to know that jin ling is wei yings nephew. Its basically a chat type story. Please help me find it.
FOUND? Yearning by Sanguis (T, 9k, WangXian, LingYi, Modern AU, Professors, Established Relationship, Married Couple, Bunnies, Pre-Relationship Secrets)
FOUND? The Mystery of Professor Lan's and Professor Wei's private lives by SilverBells (G, 7k, WangXian, Modern AU, online classes AU, Fluff, University AU, University second year LSZ, Humour)
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8. Hi!!! Luv ur blog sm! So I'm looking for a fic. I'm pretty sure its a twt threadfix where wwx d-words and reincarnates as a fox. Then he lives near cloud recesses with his fox family. He moved to the buny meadow and then later on ascends? or cultivates a human body becoming a huli jing. @fluffiestfluffer
FOUND! Pin the tail on the fox by RMoonberry (Not rated, 40k, wangxian, WIP, fox WWX, Reincarnation, Good Uncle LQR, WWX is too attractive huli jing, Light Angst, LXC is very naive, WWX & JC's reconciliation, the family feels, Misunderstandings, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, WWX is pampered, Typical Canon Violence, Spirit Animals, Shapeshifter, Canon Divergence, white hair WWX, Non-consensual drug use, historical inaccuracy, mythical beasts, Implied Torture, Inaccurate use of medicines)
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9. Very good, I love your content and I wanted to know if you or your followers could help me find some fanfic.
A) -I remember that a wangxian is about demons and angels where both sides are in conflict and lan wangji along with his brother his brother are the heirs of the angels and wei wuxian is the heir of the demons a succubus if not wrong and Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian meet in the human world and fall in love even though their families are enemies.
B) - I don't remember if it was a modern Lan Zhan or Wang Jibo but it is about her traveling to the universe of ancient Mo Dao Zu Shi as Lan Wangji, second heir of Gusu Lan and how the world changes and her relationship with Wei Wuxian with her presence. and the decisions he makes, although I don't remember if he knows what world he is in or if he doesn't know what world he is in or if he was a wangxian or xianwang, that would be what I remember and it's a bit vague, sorry.
C) -and the last one is about the characters in mo dao zu shi are trapped in a room or it was a barrier well the thing is that they don't know why and they are made to see what a future would be like where lan wangji is the one who manages the resentful energy and what's more he is a xianwang.
I'm sorry if I'm bothering you, it's because I've been looking for them and I can't find them and I haven't even finished reading. You would be very helpful to me if you could help me. @alfithia
9A)
FOUND? The World Ends Eventually, So Come with Me by ValorousOwl (M, 14k, WIP, WangXian, Angels and Demons AU, Mpreg, Canon-Typical Violence, loosely based on Tete's Angels and Demons art, Succubus!WWX, Angel!LWJ, Eventual WangXian, and also past wangxian, I feel like I need to tag religious trauma, OOC behavior, Memory Alteration, Gaslighting)
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10. Hi! Please help me find this old fic. Unfortunately, i dont remember much. It's space au i think. WW wakes up in his space ship after long sleep (?). Then he found another spaceship and find out that spaceship hold many children. Those children is experimented to have an animal feature/abilities. There are the junior (i dont remember if its junior quartet or trio). WWX then rescue those children. Then he search for another spaceship that contain experimented children. There are cameo of hualian and bingqiu. I dont remember if its completed story or a WIP.
Thank you! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername
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11. 👋 Hello
I'm looking for fics where wwx actually answered inquiry and people discovered the secrets and truths. Thank you 😊 @karinasnowwwx
FOUND? just because it's what i am by kokozy (G, 4k, wangxian, Thirteen Years of WWX's Death, Ghost WWX, Song: Inquiry, Truth comes to light, Revelations, Golden Core Reveal, Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Angst, Sad with a Happy Ending)
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12. I've got an oddly specific nsfw fic to find. There's a bottomji fic out there somewhere in which WWX asks LWJ to go soft during sex through sheer willpower? Fairly certain he manages it. I can't get it off my mind lately, so if anyone knows the title, I'd be very grateful! Thank you @kedaliya
FOUND! Shiver by anaphoricae (E, 119k, WangXian, Modern AU, Dom/sub, Dominant WWX, Submissive LWJ, Friends With Benefits, Pining while fucking, Brief mentions of LWJ/others and WWX/others, Co-workers, Praise Kink, POV LWJ, Exhibitionism, Rope Bondage, Office Sex, Rope Bunny LWJ, Semi-Public Sex, Spit As Lube, Aftercare, Intercrural Sex, Light Angst, Blow Jobs, Snowballing, Service Submission, (but it's very light. like. they dip their toes in it), Lingerie, Jealous WWX, Subspace, Cock Rings, not a Subdrop but not exactly a Sublift either, Cock Warming, Collars, Angst, Power Play, Orgasm Control, Miscommunication, Face Slapping, Impact Play, Rigger WWX, BDSM fetish party, Public Blow Jobs, Rope Suspension, Cuddlefucking, Fluff, Porn with Feelings, Choking, Body Worship, Jealous LWJ) chapter 3
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13. For ff: Hi! I am looking for a fic I read about two years back. WWX and the Wens planted a ton of red spider lilies (corpse flowers) all throughout the Burial Mounds. I think they started with just one or two but WWX carefully tended the bulbs and they flourished. They might have also been medicinal? I think the fic is set after WWX dies because I remember the other clan cultivators coming and looking through the town and being amazed at the flowers. Maybe Wen Ning was there too? Thank you!
FOUND? Awaiting Your Return by Karmiya (E, 126k, wangxian, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, the opposite of slow burn, Found Family, Canon Divergence, Age Difference, discussions of WWX's canonical abusive childhood)
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14. and if Lán Zhan | Lán Wàngjī placed in front of the sword in the tombs and not Jiang Yanli to protect Weiying.
Please, I've been looking for this Fanfic on Ao3 for days and I can't find it. @lluyvernno
FOUND? If I Could Go Back in Time by Runningbarefoot (M, 122k, wangxian, JC & JYL & WWX, LXC/NMJ, LXC & LWJ, LXC & WWX, Canon Divergence, Role Reversal, Not Everyone Dies AU, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Grief/Mourning, Loss, YLLZ WWX, Eventual Happy Ending, The Twin Jade Brotherhood, Hurt/Comfort, Healing, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Dynamics, Slow Burn)
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15. Hello! I hope you are having a great day!
I apologize but I also hope you can help me find these 5 fics (I’m sorry) that keeps getting to my head (which made wanted to read again but can’t find it). Thank you so much.
A.) Juniors ask LSZ what does WWX look in his old body and LSZ paints him. Juniors did not believe that painting until one day WWX got his old body back and Juniors were shocked
B.) I remember LWJ travel back in time and ask people in gusu that he’ll stay there until his husband fetch him. I also remember young lwj getting jealous because young wwx is close to old lwj
C.) About juniors where in I think they are in a night hunt. I remember LSZ doesn’t want to remove his robe when injured because he doesn’t want the juniors especially jin ling that he is a wen and had the burned mark logo on his chest.
D.) Married wangxian wherein there is a Clan (full of girls) who are homophobics that needed their help. I only remember a scene where wwx got jealous and very angry because the girl from that clan keeps trying to steal LWJ from him.
E.) I remember people got wwx journal and reads it. And found out what his conditions and the whens. I also remember there is a page in wwx journal filled with Blood and really bad handwriting (i think it was the last page)
15A)
FOUND! Transcend by covalentbonds (not rated, 7k, WIP, WangXian, Post-Canon, Fluff and Humor, Smut)
15B)
FOUND! 💖 From the Future for the Past by friedchickenlord (G, 27k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, First Love, Love Confessions, Fluff and Humor, teen wangxian meet adult wangxian, Happy Ending, Denial, Mutual Pining)
15D)
FOUND! Just As Much by Gemiblu (E, 23k, WangXian, Jealousy, Boys In Love, Homophobia, demonic cultivation bondage, Power Bottom WWX, Cockblocking, Semi-Public Sex, Crying During Sex, Intimacy, New World, Female Characters, Casual Intimacy, mentions of non-canon character death, description of violent acts, post marriage, Explicit Sexual Content, Kissing, Affection, supportive married couple, Pet Names, YLLZ WWX)
15E)
FOUND! dormiveglia (in between sleeping and waking) by comforting_monachopsis (M, 13k, WangXian, XuanLi, Diary/Journal, Golden Core Reveal, Canonical Child Abuse, Canonical Character Death, YLLZ WWX, Oblivious WWX, Protective WWX, WWX Needs a Hug, Grief/Mourning, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Sort Of, Dysfunctional Family, Family Issues, Thirteen Years of WWX’s Death, Dead WWX, Angst and Tragedy)
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16. Hi! Please help me find this fic. Its modern cultivation au where WWX, WQ, WN called for a night hunt by a mayor. They are not the only one called, the mayor called Lan clan too to solve a problem that related to Mo manor (?). WWX has a past with Lan clan that make him have a grudge with them. So, 10 years ago, WWX and LWJ has a mission that resulted WWX hospitalized. He is poisoned (a deadly one) and almost died. But he didnt recieve a care because he is fired by the Lan because he was reported many times of misconduct by LWJ. The Lan clan too claimed that they already give a notice email that WWX didnt recieved. Back to present, LWJ who only heard of that story start to investigate and found out it was Su She who made WWX fired from the job
Thank you! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername
FOUND! Wish I could forget the taste of your skin and the feel of your hands pinning me down by KizuKatana (E, 63k, wangxian, WQ & WWX & WN, Modern Cultivation, weapons-grade thirst, Getting Back Together, Trying REALLY hard to not still like your Ex, but failing, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, Canon Divergence, Case Fic, LWJ's canonically big dick, sort of a 'thirsting for your co-worker ex' vibe, it eventually gets worked out, Mutual Pining, Guest-starring LWJ’s canonically poor communication choices after romantic cave encounters, novel canon relationship dynamics, basically this fic is about escalating sexual tension)
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17. I have a description so I’m hoping it can be found bc I can’t personally find it myself for some reason: LZ & his brother are immortals who get caught up in a murder mystery w JC & WY. WY (& this I remember /super/ clearly) at one point sneaks into LZ’s attic & finds his old cultivation gear in addition to a portrait of YLLZ!WWX & is bitch slapped w/ memories of his past life. WY is on deaths door, also & LZ gives up his immortality so they can be together, as well. @arisuamichan
FOUND? I think this fic is "Monotone" by Seredemia and I think it was deleted. I only have a google drive link for it. The scene with the attic is in Chapter 19. -bluekittenfire
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18. Apologies for dropping this in right after you've posted a fic finder. I'm looking for two fics.
A) The first is where Lan Wangji, having learned Wei Wuxian has lost his core, uses an old technique that allows him to grow a second golden core (the idea being the user would absorb the second to make the original stronger), so he can donate one golden core to Wei Wuxian.
B) The second is where Wei Wuxian has been cursed or enchanted in some way that he can't remember Lan Wangji, who enters the Burial Mounds disguised as a new Wen so he can get to the bottom of it with the other Wens helping him in the ruse. There's a scene close to the end where he comes across Wei Wuxian being wooed by someone (think it was Su She) wearing his Wen disguise. It leads to a confrontation where Wei Wuxian tries to defend the false Lan Wangji against the real one and it leads to the spell breaking.
Thank you, and again, apologies for the poor timing!
18A)
NOT FOUND! 🧡 Discarded by teawater (E, 169k, WIP, WangXian, Lots of Angst, Hurt/Comfort, YLLZ WWX, Golden Core Reveal, Case Fic, Depression, Family Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Worth Issues, Angst with a Happy Ending, POV Multiple, BAMF WWX, dubious morals in the Lan sect, Feels, Pining, Grief, Fix-It, BAMF LWJ)
FOUND! these colours fade for you only by doodlebutt (T, 36k, wangxian, fix-it, fluff & angst, happy ending, WWX gets a new core, hurt/comfort, slow burn, pining, canon-typical violence & gore)
18B)
I have recently read 18B 😭😭😭 I wish there was a way to filter search history. Can the asker please bookmark this post cause I'll come back there to post it when I find it.
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19. Hello hello hello
I am looking for a fic I’m 90% I found on y’all’s blog and I meant to bookmark it for later and I didn’t and so now it is lost. 😔. But the summary was something like a negotiation between WWX and LWG and WWX makes a joke that goes along the lines of “well if you want nothing else then I’ll have to offer you my body.” And then LWG’s eyes like darken or something and WWX is like “oh you do want that.”
I hope this is enough and makes sense.
Y’all do gods work btw and it’s greatly appreciated 🫡🫡🫡
FOUND? Awaiting Your Return by Karmiya (E, 126k, wangxian, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, the opposite of slow burn, Found Family, Canon Divergence, Age Difference, discussions of WWX's canonical abusive childhood)
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20. Hey :), I'm just trying to find an all old fic where Wei Wuxian didn't get torn to pieces and instead ended up immortalised. I half suspect that it was removed from ao3 but the details are as follows: wwx 'dies' but is found breathing, the cultivation world examines his body and finds him at gates of immortality essentially.
At this point JC figures out the core thing because they build a shrine for him and bring suiban (still sealed but he can remove it) and LQR does too (independently examing the body). When demonic cultivation starts being a problem again LQR starts a rumour that they need to "fight fire with fire' and efforts begin after 13 years to resurect Wei Ying. He wakes up mad, storms into a conference and LWJ follows him out when he storms out. He bumps into Jingyi at the koi tower steps, later down the line adopts Mo XuanYi from the Mo village (joking that his name is stranger isntead of saying hes the YLZ), end up wearing lwj overrobe at one point and finally once again travelling with LY and LJY.
Plot really picks up when they enter the town which was affected by the demonic cultivation. It is deserted, but they encounter the being that tormented him in the burial mound, XY, and other new-immortals. Its revelead immortality is gained through suffering like WWX had and he's forced to accept a demonic core to save JC and JL. He dies once again in Gusu but LWJ keeps pooling qi into him, which makes his resurrection faster.
I'll stop here cause this is getting a bit long, but I hope this is enough for you to help me find the fic. THANK U SO MUCH! @geminimind05
FOUND! If One for you, then One for us by KusakabeNAyako (T, 85k, wangxian, WIP, Canon Divergence, WWX has no time for your shit, He died alredy leave him be, fucking up canon, WN is precious Cinnamon roll, WWX is precious cinnamon roll, Rape/Non-con Elements, YLLZ WWX)
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wip titles meme
RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.
tagged by @curiosity-killed 🥰💛 and i suppose i'll sort these by fandom? and i won't include baby zzl for obvious reasons
SVSSS
Bingge & TLJ
bingqiu star wars au
canon-verse transmasc zzl
demi tlj t4t tianxi body worship
i will follow you
making liars out of honest men
moshang first time (DISAPPOINTING LOL)
MY UNCLE SOLD ME TO MOSHANG 😱😱😱
post-canon tlj & lbh
scum villain centaurworld au
scum villain sickfic
Six Balls/Zhuzhi-lang Part TWO
TLJ & LBH post-canon
tianxi wolf au
zhushen eggs....
zhushen nesting fth
zzl/mf/nyy threadfic new game plus
TGCF
a slow and steady blaze
maybe we don't have to wait 'til we're better
nameless longing
soulless creature – shi wudu fic
xianle quartet tonglu opening
you look like forever to me
MISCELLANEOUS
kalluzeb post-canon (swr)
mommy says it's xiao bai's turn on the xbox!! (misvil)
sam trauma fic lol (spn)
What's a pretty bald babe like you doing in a wip like this? (swtcw)
wn/zzl main series fic #2 (mdzs/svsss)
zosan pushing daisies (one piece)
i can't tag as many people as i have wips I JUST CAN'T so i'll tag anyone who wants to play, as well as @luukeskywalker @peerlessbellbird @breadandblankets @livingmeatloaf and @kukuandkookie 💕💕💕
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Shout out to my friend who thought star wars was about nuns with lightsabers and made the WN star wars au live rent free in my head for the last week
Edit: to be clear, I had warrior nun on and she saw Ava's glowing blue sword and just.... thought it was star wars
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Obikin fanfiction that deserves to never be forgotten. (Part 1/4)
There is a lot of good Obi-Wan x Anakin fanfiction but I've decided it would be a good idea to list my 4 all time favorites so far so everyone can have the joy of reading these wonderful fanfics.
The first fanfic is Sun Kissed by Vee017
https://archiveofourown.org/works/256946/chapters/401006
Words: 96, 474, Chapters: 33/34, Language: English
Fandoms: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Categories: M/M
Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Mace Windu, Yoda, Qui-Gon Jinn Shmi Skywalker
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Additional Tags: Drama, Romance, Alternate Universe -, Slavery, Slash, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, Minor Character Death, Slow Burn, Eventual Happy Ending, Recovery, Hurt/Comfort
Summary: "Being on a world that supports slavery is one thing. Buying a slave and bringing him into Republic space is entirely another."
This au is a story about what if Obi-Wan was never chosen as an apprentice and was sent to the service corps. As a result of this Anakin was never found on Tatooine and grew up as a slave.
This story goes into how while working in the service corps Obi-Wan runs into a slave Anakin and saves him after seeing he is force sensitive. This story has lots of angst but also very fluffy moments and is an overall great story. It talks about Anakin dealing with his traumatizing memories as a slave and Obi-Wn helping him through it. It also goes into Obi-Wan's side of the story and how he feels like a failure because he was never chosen to become a Padawan. It's just a bunch of Obi-Wan and Anakin helping each other heal. There is lots of plots going on in the background like the whereabouts of Anakin's mother and an angry slave owner that's mad Anakin doesn't belong to him.
I believe this was the first ever Obi-Wan x Anakin fanfic I ever read. This story is what got me on the Obikin train and I owe the author and story so much! ❤️❤️❤️
#anakin and obi wan#obi wan x anakin#anakin skywalker#obi wan kenobi#obikin#star wras#sunkissed#star wars clone wars#sw tcw#clone wars anakin#clone wars obi wan#clone wars#star wars prequels
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Hii i just wanted to say I loved your analysis of what lan sizhui would actually call lan zhan and totally agree with you! But now I wonder why does sizhui's demeanor resemble so much lan xicheng's 🤔 like to me it mostly looks like it was him who raised lsz it has always been a curiosity of mine since I adore that character 💘 what do you think??
[from here]
Thanks nonny!
(I noticed a lot of people in the tags of the previous post talking about the timeline and age differences between CQL and the novel, so I just wanted to point out that wasn’t the point I was trying to make—the point has always been that, culturally, it would have been Extremely Disrespectful to Wen Yuan’s birth father if he started calling LWJ “father”, knowing that he has an actual biological parent. And LWJ Would Not Do That. Especially since he knows that LSZ is the last living member of the Wens.
There’s a saying in Chinese that goes 百善以孝为先 (of all the virtues, filial piety is the most important). It is one of the foundations of Chinese culture. And LWJ, knowing LSZ is the last of the Wens (even if LSZ himself doesn’t know it, and even if the Wens are widely regarded as Evil), wouldn’t want to take that away from him in case LSZ ever does remember (and even if he doesn’t, it’s still a sign of respect. He knows the branch of the Wen clan LSZ is from were good people). It’s also why LSZ and WN go back to Qishan to erect memorials for his family post-canon. To honour them and due his filial duty to them.
The age part is just to highlight that he would have been raised with the other Lan children and taught proper etiquette and forms of address, hence why he would always call LWJ “Hanguang-jun” because he’s 1) not related to him, even though he was raised by him as a Lan and 2) it shows respect. The 義父 idea was just IF you really had to make him call LWJ ‘father’ in canon verse. it’s not canon.)
ANYWAY back to your question, nonny.
I think LSZ’s personality is just...who he is as a person, really. Wen Yuan was a happy child despite his rather traumatic circumstances before he lost his memories, so it shows that he is very resilient and quite likely to retain his happy, smiling demeanour after he loses his memories?
I’m going to say LWJ or LXC organised for someone to nurse him back to health upon their return to the Cloud Recesses. LWJ was punished and then had to go into seclusion to heal, and LXC is sect leader and they’ve just come out of a war with heavy losses, so no doubt both the sect and the entire cultivation world would have required his attention. Neither of them would have been able to look after LSZ personally. LQR might have though, once LSZ got older and started attending classes. Maybe he would have taken an interest in LSZ once he saw how bright he was and saw how much potential he had, and also because LWJ took special interest in the boy as well.
My guess is that he was raised communally with the Lan children for the most part, and when LWJ came out of seclusion, he became LSZ’s mentor/caretaker. Kind of like a 入室弟子 (rushi-dizi, a closed-door/live-in disciple). It was a very common practice in China for disciples to live with their masters during their training, and become part of their “family”. They’re slightly higher in rank than regular disciples and are given the honour of being personally taught by the master (rather than by senior disciples). That’s where the saying 一日为师，终身为父 (one day as a teacher, a lifetime as a father) and consequently the word 师父 originated.
(@baymaxnostalgia compared it to a Jedi Master and his Padawan and that’s...a pretty accurate depiction of the 入室弟子 dynamic, actually. Now someone please give me a Star Wars AU.)
(Which brings up the interesting tangent of disciple rankings. Which isn’t really discussed at all, but since the sects are organised by bloodline and they differentiate between clan disciples (家族子弟) and non-blood-related disciples (外姓门生), I’m willing to bet that they’re big on the 嫡庶 dishu system of hierarchy/inheritance as well. Which kind of puts LSZ in the 嫡 category, but by adoption, kind of like 庶 sons being 过继 guoji to the 嫡 house. A completely separate discussion altogether.)
Although I don’t think LSZ would have lived with LWJ like a normal 入室弟子 arrangement, he’d probably have stayed with the other disciples in the dorms (or wherever they live). Remember, LWJ spent the majority of his time away from the sect, searching for WWX and nighthunting in those thirteen years (hence why people describe him as 逢乱必出 (appearing wherever there is chaos)), so he would not have been at the Cloud Recesses to actively take care of LSZ very much at all.
So LSZ would have been allowed the benefit of LWJ’s private tutelage when he was around (e.g. LWJ personally taught him guqin, which—by the way LJY made sure to point it out in Yi City—must have been a rare honour), while also living and attending regular classes with the other Gusu Lan disciples.
As for why his demeanour would resemble LXC, well. LXC is their sect leader, and probably held up by their teachers as the Embodiment of Gusu Lan values. Wouldn’t it make sense for the juniors to look up to him? Perhaps LSZ and LXC’s personalities are just very similar to begin with, so growing up in the same environment would have made them very similar too.
#hey nonny nonny#asks#mdzs#lan sizhui#lan wangji#meta#there was...much less LXC in this discussion than intended lol#anyway i hope this made sense#i am all for Modern AU Happy WangXian family#but if it's for a canon or post-canon thing then nah#I'd personally prefer to go with 義父 at MOST#but that's just me
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Writer Nonnie and I or may not be overwhelming myself with Castlevania Idea, whatever the hell fandom I've currently parkoured into, and darkvioletcloud's Castlevania Actor AU. I swear as soon as I saw those words I just imagined the behind the scenes of MCU, Star Wars, and Lord of the rings where everyone is just goofing off and it's a wonder how anything gets done.
...while I’ve only been in an incredibly smol troupe and a handful of plays...
WN. The goofing off that happens during and around rehearsals are just as much fun as a successful practice and performance. The BEST actors and directors and other crew members that help make things happen are quite literally just a bunch of dorks that wanna play.
It’s like playing a perpetual childhood game of Pretend, only you’re not forced to outgrow it.
All those blooper reels and Actor AUs...
We love them because they humanize the guys that collaborate on One Big Project.
#writer nonnie#...dammit I MISS acting!!!#my troupe was more of Plotsing than anything#it wasn’t pure improv as we had definite scenes. but none of it was written down#and we often switched up lines and who said the line#it honestly was the best of both worlds and I kinda miss it daily
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THE STAR WARS AU [4/10]
word count: 30k
rating: m
summary: Ava is a fugitive Jedi. Beatrice is an Inquisitor. Things go about as well as you’d expect.
excerpt
//
She felt Lilith approach. Her steps were firm, audible even on the carpet, not like Crimson’s prowling softness, her sneaking-up-on-you gait. She half-expected Lilith to reach out and hit her, but the Third Sister only stopped.
When Beatrice opened her eyes very slightly she could see where the scuffed knees of Lilith’s pants almost touched the bare and slightly-wasted curve of Beatrice’s own knee. Lilith reached out, her fingers slipping softly under Bea’s chin – the barest touch – and then she pressed her lips down to where the scalp was ruined.
And the pain of it disappeared.
Later, Beatrice only remembered the way Lilith took the filthy handful of hair and blood and skin out of her hand and dropped it almost reverently into the recycler, which ate the lot in a gasp of escaping air.
She took her into the bathroom, first pulling her up off the bed and not flinching whatsoever when Beatrice simply collapsed against her. Slumped, loose-limbed but for her elbow, which she kept tucked into her ribs. Beatrice’s head fell against her chest, which was not covered with the chest plate of her armour. They were on the station. They were safe. It was soft.
Lilith’s hands distracted her, their lacework of scars and how it loaned an odd terrain to her touch. The contact might have made Beatrice shiver. She wondered where those scars came from, who they came from, but she found herself soothed by them, unexpectedly.
More than scars, they felt to her like the writing you read in the dark, or if you cannot see; bumps with meaning inside. Beatrice found herself trying to read them as Lilith lowered her onto the little stood in the bathroom, as she slipped one hand down behind her ears to gather up all the hair.
But it wasn’t any language - just touch.
She took the razor out of Beatrice’s hands and stood behind her, running it over the scabs on her scalp, brushing the hair away when it feel onto her shoulders. Lilith’s fingers were warm, tacky with spots of blood, but wherever she found a wound she would trace it with her thumb, and then with her lips.
It was strange, unwelcome, necessary – her warm breath when she leaned in to blow the tiny, prickly hairs off the back of Beatrice’s neck. Her movements stilted as she put both her hands down on Beatrice’s shoulders, thumbs pressing into the little nub of bone that marked where the acromion and the clavicle meet. Her voice, mercifully invisible in the dim bathroom light, the hair shifting beneath their feet like discarded feathers as she said, “There. You’re free.”
And Beatrice – stupid stupid – said into the relapse of their silence, “No, I’m not.”
It was as if a thin sheet of glass stood between them, and every touch, every word, all the halfway-honest looks, all of their tenterhook movements, put tiny cracks into the surface. They bloomed out from the scars on Lilith’s hands, and when Beatrice turned her back the glass grew mimicries of the scarring on her back. When she reached out, it took the reflection of her arms.
Then there were moments when a word or a gesture would suddenly and violently bring the whole superstructure of glass down around their feet. That time, Beatrice got to witness it in the bathroom mirror.
Lilith with the razor in her hand, one palm pressed flush into Beatrice’s scalp, angling to take in the artful mess she’d made. It would have been enough for Beatrice if Lilith had simply run the razor through and through and through on the highest setting, shearing everything down to the scalp, but instead she’d attacked each section with a delicacy that came out of her and felt, to Beatrice, like a shock of cold water.
Tilting her chin back to trim her hairline, mussing to upset the little errant hairs away when the razor clipped them. A too-soft murmur of “Close your eyes” as Lilith dusted her scalp with an open hand, very carefully placing both palms to either side of Beatrice’s head to tilt it, just so, or to coax it straight again.
Then the glass broke, and Beatrice watched Lilith freeze, fist curling white around the electronic razor. Dressed down to the blank pants and shirt she wore under her armour, tight around the shoulders but untucked at the waist. A shadow crossed her face and then decided it wanted to stay, settled down underneath her eyes, slipped black tendrils inside until her gaze shone, wetly.
She walked out of the room without saying a word, leaving the razor on top of the bedspread, scattering a few flecks of black around it.
Beatrice had, by dint of vomiting onto the bed in the middle of the night, contrived to switch out the velvet black bedspread for something the colour of cream. There were better dreams in that fabric, but even after she dusted the hair away and put the razor back into its drawer, the bed held onto the image of Lilith tossing the razor down as she swept past.
That night Beatrice dreamed she was back in the chair again, with one arm unlatched and the other tucked tight to her chest. She hit Lilith again and again and again, until her face turned into a smear of blood.
continue on ao3
#fic: luminous beings#warrior nun#avatrice#ava x beatrice#beatrice x lilith#wn star wars au#casper writes#wn fic#somehow palpatine returned etc etc.#can't believe this just reached 100k what is wrong with me
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actually (i’m not sorry) let’s talk about force-bonded jedi knights Shannon and Mary.
“A Force-bond was a powerful connection between two Force-sensitive individuals that bridged their minds, allowing them to communicate through the Force both visually and emotionally.
The range of the bond was vast; it could span the galaxy, keeping two beings united in a psychic link despite the physical distance between them. As a result, both parties would manifest in each other's location at the same time, making it possible for them to see, hear and feel each other through their bond.”
thinking of Shannon standing in the hallway watching death approach and reaching out, finding that familiar hand, half-memory and half-desire. clutching it even as she raises her saber in the last extreme defense of Ava.
burning her life because she used to dream of holding a blue saber, of going out in glory, but love taught her to long for balance, for harmony, for peace. for green.
and she would have lived in peace, with Mary on some far-flung planet. tinkering with ships and growing too old, too fast. fixing up droids and complaining about the weather and painting the shutters in spring.
but she’s a jedi, so what she has is only an instant of that peace as she feels Mary come awake in a distant place. one last prayer on her lips. “let it be safe. let it be safe and very far away.”
whispering, “i’m sorry. i couldn’t face this part alone.”
distance had never stopped them and it doesn’t stop Shannon from dying with Mary’s arms around her.
they grow up hand-in-hand, youngling Shannon missing a piece of herself until she finds Mary. this odd, thoughtful girl from incredibly far away, who knows about engine specs and torque but not the laws of physics.
telekinetically passing her notes in class, sending them adrift like little white birds. Mary initially dumps them all in the wastepaper bin at the end of their classes, head spinning with physics and math and chemistry and kinetics and protocol and all the myriad things a jedi must know.
but eventually she unfolds them, hiding her blush with her binder of notes. chickenscratch handwriting and little diagrams of a cartoon Shannon (labelled) bonking a cartoon Mary on the head with a saber.
back when Shannon thought hers would be blue.
Mary most at home with a practice blade in her hand, trying to get used to the airy spaces in the jedi temple, quiet courtyards and the soft shuffle of pages in the archives. she sneaks into the hanger bay (as Ava will, in another decade) to look at the ships, to touch them, remembering the desert and the podracers kicking up sand. storms sweeping in to eat the sun.
scowling when Shannon takes her lunch tray over to sit at the far end of Mary’s table, so she can wink at her.
and then, one day, looking up and finding her beautiful.
after that they sit next to each other. binary stars slipping into orbit, trading from tray-to-tray; blue milk for the strawberry one. Mary eating Shannon’s greens when the jedi look away.
Mary growing closer almost against her will to this whirlwind of a girl. how she spars in the early morning with the empty air. she wakes up early to watch, pretending it's the dawn that draws her down, peering around a pillar, stunned at the grace of Shannon pivoting through the air, flipping over imaginary opponents.
asking her, as they perch on a balcony to watch the sunset over the endless cityscape, “why did you bother with me?”
Shannon has her face pressed sleepily into Mary’s shoulder. she plays with the hem of her tank top, “what d’you mean?”
“it just… seemed like you wanted to know me before you even knew me.”
“i did.”
Mary, turns her head, looking at the profile of Shannon curled up against her. warm. “yeah, but why?”
“i don’t know. i just had a feeling.”
they go together to Ilum, to get their kyber crystals, running through the icy cave systems. Shannon helps Mary when they climb and Mary clutches a half-conscious Shannon to her chest when they fall into freezing water. “i got you.”
“i k-k-know.” through chattering teeth, Mary letting Shannon slip her cold hands under her shirt for warmth. a wicked smile in the ice-warped dimness. "s-s-score."
saber fights late at night with blue offshoots of light dancing around their bodies. green sparks shattering against the stars. laying there tangled in their exhaustion, always drawing even. Mary kissing Shannon’s forehead, looking at their lightsabers sitting side-by-side. blue and green.
“we should kiss.” Shannon says this out of nowhere with the air of someone who has been thinking about it for a long time.
she’s half-draped over Mary’s chest, head on her ribs. “i can hear your heart,” she adds, when Mary loses the ability to speak.
Shannon sits up, turns. she’s about to say something when Mary lurches up, takes her by the jaw.
they kiss, and nothing is ever the same again.
#wn star wars au#shannon x mary#thanks anon for the inspiration (blows u a kiss)#casper writes#but messily
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omg omg omg can you SEE ava in training just fucking flipping that lightsaber e very chance she gets dropping and fumbling and literally almost chopping her arm off. singeing her lil padawan braid and shannon just standing there w her head in her hands (lovingly) trying to be the adult but wanting to laugh. mary later being like you let her do WHAT..
and and when ava does finally get it down just enough to show off in front of the other padawans she does so. the exact opposite of bea who is so put together, but can’t help the lil smile and shy glance at the girl tossing her lightsaber up w a flourish
luckily for ava (and her limbs) in training they mostly practice with lightblades like the ones ava and shannon use to duel in chapter 3. those can leave little burns and swathes of colour on clothing or skin, but they’re not deadly. beatrice feels like they are, walks back to her room and touches the marks ava leaves on her with a shaking hand. watches the light fade with the afternoon.
that said, ava is famous for her acrobatics; for the backflips that seem almost too graceful even for a Jedi.
she’s very fond of switching the colour of her blade constantly while she duels. she claims that it puts her opponent off balance, dazzles them with colour, but that’s not the reason beatrice is always off her game when she matches with ava. slow-parrying her blows because she can’t stop looking at this whirlwind creature and the halo of rainbow light she casts whenever she moves.
ava defaults to a gold-tinged yellow when she’s doing solo practice. like the sun catching on sand. sometimes bea perceives a tinge of red in it and a chill passes through her.
but ava definitely does steal shannon’s saber one time. tries to pull off one of her typical throw-flip-catch-slice tricks in front of all the padawans only for bea to (unbeknownst to anyone) use a very faint wisp of Force energy to nudge the blade so that it chops into the floor and NOT ava’s arm when she misses her catch.
and then bea spends the next week taking detours to avoid the very long corridor ava’s been ordered to clean with a toothbrush (as punishment), to spare herself the inevitable stanmering and blushing, the feeling that ava’s so bright, and she is so forgettable.
#do you ever wonder what it would do to inquisitor!bea to see a certain someone again?#and have them recognise her immediately?#when she is almost unrecognisable to herself#the urge to write this kill me 🫠🫠#wn star wars au#avatrice#warrior nun#anon
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THE STAR WARS AU [3/10]
word count: 39k
rated: M
summary: Ava is a fugitive Jedi. Beatrice is an Inquisitor. Things go about as well as you’d expect.
chapter excerpt:
‘I haven’t been in space for five years,’ Ava says abruptly. She peers up at the dark bank of clouds squatting over the shipyard, ‘I’ve barely even seen the stars.’ The sentence is raspy, split into pieces by the quickstep of her breaths.
They stand there, both of them, looking up. ‘Do you miss it?’ Mary asks. It isn’t really a question.
‘I love it up there,’ Ava says simply. ‘It’s where I belong.’
The rain touches mostly their boots when they sit down. It slants, pattering over the toes and sliding down towards the laces. Mary made Ava spend half her first paycheck on a pair of sleek waterproof boots made from a durafiber hybrid. They’re scuffed now, but they’ve never let in so much as a drop of water, so Ava figures it was worth it, even if she did spend a whole month eating nothing but unsweetened synth-porridge and algae crackers.
‘Space is beautiful,’ Ava says. ‘It has no boundaries. If you shoot a blaster out there the bolt will keep going until it collides with something. That’s inertia,’ she adds, though everyone knows. ‘Things keep going until something stops them or changes their course. I miss never stopping.’
Another moment slides past before Ava admits, for no real reason, ‘But I miss it mostly because we lived there. We were happy there.’
She is tied up in her own inconsiderate breaths, but Ava is what she is (a death, a legacy) and so she hears Mary’s breath hitch inside her chest. There are no echoes wrapped up in Mary’s jacket; just a body, and so it is easy to keep clinging to it even as the faintest tremor travels through.
‘You’re so warm,’ Ava murmurs, which is nonsense, but it causes Mary’s grip to solidify again. More than nonsense after all. Necessity.
Mary sighs, ‘I had someone too.’ She puts her chin down on the crown of Ava’s head. ‘More than one, I guess, though the other was… she was more like a student; someone I was supposed to look out for.’
Muffled by her chest, Ava dares to ask, ‘What was she like? Your student?’
Ava watches a muscle flutter in Mary’s jaw, but then, almost reluctantly, she dips her head back and grins.
‘Too smart for her own good. Brave.’
‘Mine too,’ Ava says, before she can stop herself.
‘Yeah?’
Red light battling with green and Shannon standing resolute, awash in it. This woman who loved to sway to shitty music and drink in dive-bars on asteroids; this woman who loved to slop stew into their chipped bowls and pull the ship into atmosphere just to buy fresh bread. Her life, which she loved, set down at Ava’s feet.
‘I’m all that’s left of her,’ Ava breathes, and Mary makes a noise in her throat like an aborted cry.
continue on ao3
#warrior nun#avatrice#wn star wars au#ava x beatrice#fic: luminous beings#ava silva#this is a love letter to ava silva the protagonist of all time#casper writes
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Tapping my fingers evilly. "Do you ever regret it?" Avalil
let's all politely pretend this is five sentences.
newton's third law of motion
also on ao3
....
lilith opens her eyes first.
she always does.
takes in the sweat-slick length of ava’s shoulder, curved in messy reference to lilith’s body like a question tucked into the end of a sentence. where she’s contorted in sleep, one arm outstretched one hand fisted in her pillow one heel kicked back and pressed against lilith’s calf, her shoulder blade makes an L-shape.
that’s strange, isn’t it? sometimes, when ava speaks her name – aloud, loud – it feels as though she swallows that first consonant. beatrice bites down on it, but ava’s tongue tucks the sound back inside her mouth.
on the very edge of a cry it lingers in her so that, slipping her tongue past teeth, she can almost taste it; her name loosely concealed in the breathless sounds ava makes as lilith speaks to her with her hands.
this is a form of worship so alien to her that it has its own language, like ava’s body when she sleeps.
helplessly, knowing it will wake her, lilith leans down and puts her mouth on that spot. the L-shape blooming into her mouth.
ava’s skin tastes of salt, of the decontamination flush from the airlock where the pair of them strip side-by-side in the deafening volume of their breaths.
sound becomes a physical thing when you have spent hours in a medium through which it cannot travel. the inside of the suit contains your heartbeat and one set of bated breaths, sometimes the crackle of the radio and ava’s voice turned strange, pressed through electrical signals. but all else is silence.
and so they emerge, blinking at the sudden soundlessness of their hearts. at the creaking of the ship and beatrice’s voice through the intercom, wry. “are you two going to stand there all night? i made bluudles.”
that alone enough to knock lilith out of her stupor. “what the fuck are bluudles?”
ava, next to her, shaking out her sweaty hair with her helmet cupped in the crook of one arm, “they’re noodles, but blue.”
“that’s not a thing.”
“neither is your sense of humour.”
quiet then. contented. ava taking a bite out of lilith’s bottom lip and then struggling to take off her exosuit, exhausted from patching the hull of the ship.
they work well together, out there; ava kicking lilith in the chest to start her moving, thrown away and turning into a silhouette against the nearest star, laughing at the third law of motion. equal and opposite.
lilith, flung out into space herself and then grabbing at the airlock door, slapping it open, hauling ava inside hand over hand by a long tether that keeps them linked, moored.
ava’s fingers clumsy on the zips and catches of her suit so that half the time lilith has to undo them for her.
the smell of their sweat fogging around them before the walls douse them in water, cold and then warm. lilith rolls her eyes when ava shrieks, tries to hide in lilith’s arms and ends up staying there, shivering against her.
warm water, then, and ava dancing in it like summer rain.
tonight, she smells of it; oddly ozone, strangely clean.
beatrice is on the flight deck – again. driven there by nightmares.
the spillage of the hall light and ava burrowed under the sheets, just the crown of her head visible. before, beatrice used to wake from nightmares and climb onto lilith’s hips, sitting there like a blood-drenched ghoul in the middle of the night and lilith would trace the lines of her abdominal muscles flowing into hips. would never ask her what was wrong.
they’d dissolve into each other, a flurry of movement, moans. a repetition of bleak desire that solved nothing.
these days, beatrice presses a kiss to the corner of lilith’s brow and she walks to the flight deck and she puts on her ocean sounds. she goes alone, but she is never alone, their Force bonds stretching sinuous between them like tethers into space. every heave of emotion in these two orbiting bodies feels the same as a creature crossing over lilith’s grave.
when she left, everything was slanted moonlight and ava’s hands roamed out of the sheets, landed on her naked chest. they were, for a while, just a tapestry of muted breaths, not doing anything, but ava muttered into the darkness that she liked to have her palm against lilith’s heartbeat.
“reminding yourself that i have one?”
“no, you bitch.”
she’s wickedly sentimental in her sleep and her half-asleep, muttering things from underneath the covers like: “i like to have my hand there so that if your heart tries to run away with you, I can catch it.”
lilith is always speechless about that.
then she closed her eyes, feigning sleep, and in short order ava’s hands found her jaw, thumb sweeping over the fluttering muscle right at the edge of it. “she’s okay, lil.”
“i know.”
and then it was ava straddling her. like she’d been there, like she knew that lilith needed grounding. that her heart wanted to run away from her. ava dipping down, the brush of her lips over lilith’s. “told you, didn’t i? i’ll catch it for you.”
now, lilith kisses her shoulder and ava comes awake very carefully. heel pressing harder into lilith’s leg, and her arms have to come undone from around ava as she twists, flipping herself over so she’s facing lilith. her eyes are a colour lilith cannot find a twin for in all her art.
how can she match the butter hue that hides up in the far right corner of each iris? a golden afterthought. or how they shine even with no light to reflect against them? lilith, certainly, has no light to give anyone.
ava looks at her, oddly contrite and there it is, finally; the furthest edge of the question that’s been humming in ava’s mouth for days and days.
they could all feel it in the bond, of course, just as ava can tell whenever lilith uses her toothbrush, but beatrice would never be so impolite as to ask after a feeling unprompted.
and lilith is too afraid.
“can i-” ava starts
“yes.”
it’s hard to believe, holding this incredible thing in her arms, that once upon a time they tried to kill each other. that one of them succeeded.
a little scowl, undermined by the fact that lilith knows she could lower her head and taste herself on ava’s cheeks, next to her mouth.
in it.
“do you ever regret it?” ava speaks to her hands, in a whisper. “sorry,” she adds swiftly. her voice is light, and Lilith thinks this literally, sometimes. it is the light she has never touched.
“regret what?” lilith asks, because the answer is yes, to so much of it. and also no, because it brought me here.
lilith knows, hears, senses what ava means the instant before she speaks again. her eyes flicker up to the bedside table where ava’s lightsaber rests next to her carton of apple juice, the straw sagging down with a bead of sticky-sweet on the end of it. ava knows where she’s looking, at the invisible brilliance of that yellow blade, that incredible beam of light.
she tucks a kiss into lilith’s collarbone, mumbles into the scars sitting there. “do you regret giving it up? your lightsaber.”
breathing.
she does it for a while. nothing else, just the slow slippage of air over her bottom teeth, over her tongue.
ava likes the filters set almost frigidly high, so that hiding under the blankets creates a cocoon of warm air, so that she can rest her face against lilith’s arm and hum at the heat of it.
beatrice likes it too. her room on the station was always icy.
they both leach off of her, cold cheeks and cold hands roaming in the dark, but lilith has no special preference for temperature. what she likes is them, is beatrice sleeping sound beside her or ava muttering, eyelash-shadows thrown over her face.
she responds, at length, by rocking her head side to side, “no, i don’t regret it.”
“why not?”
lilith sighs. “you’ve touched it, haven’t you?.”
“your sword? recently, in fact-”
“ava.”
her turn to sigh. a parody of sound, huffing down lilith’s chest. she almost shivers, but manages to hold still even as ava’s tongue touches where her breath travelled. “yes,” she admits. “I touched it when you were angry with me.”
“good times.”
“you were much more interesting back then.”
they can laugh about it now. in their bedroom with the stars outside and nothing else for miles beyond counting. for years measured in light.
ava drapes an arm over lilith’s shoulder, her fingers finding nubs of spine and river of bad-textured tissue. her eyes are on the burn over lilith’s heart. so much flesh and so much evidence.
her mouth wobbles and lilith catches it, makes it still. fingers stalling on her back, turning into the press of blunt nails.
“what did you feel?” lilith asks, “when you touched my lightsaber?”
ava looks at her. buttery light in her eyes and the shadows worse for it. she’s unblemished by all the years of fighting and running and fighting again, but lilith knows where the injuries lurk.
she knows what she did and where she did it.
they are both marked by one another, so deeply that sometimes the scars and the kisses ava has laid over them have no special distinction in lilith’s mind.
“i felt… too much. you were angry with me, with her. it was confusing.” ava bites her lip, makes it bleed and lilith watches tendrils of light climb up from under her chin and heal it.
ava hardly seems to notice.
“i felt someone crushing your hands again, and again. the feeling of your fingers in… inside her” – beatrice – “old paint stains and broken things that were people that were things. i felt fire.”
ava takes a deep breath, wrenches away from the memory. her eyes are full of tears. taking pity – always taking pity on her. lilith reaches down and brushes the wetness away with the upside of her thumb. she remembers the blood leaking through ava’s fingers as they closed around the hilt of lilith’s saber.
the air superheated at her wrists so they burned and blackened, the veins popping open, blood sizzling so quick that it hardly had the chance to patter back onto ava’s boots. the pouring of power around them, air whipped up into a channel that blocked out the whole world.
nothing but her rage and the girl who took hold of her excised heart and knew her suddenly and absolutely and forever, by touch alone.
“I felt pain,” ava says eventually. she shivers, shakes her head. “at the time i couldn’t tell the difference between mine and yours.”
lilith’s hands shake where ava cannot see them. she nods, “that’s what it was to me. an artefact that never really belonged to me. a flame that burned me as much as anyone else. it was so easy to let it go.”
not adding that she could never quite get ava’s blood out of the metal. hallucinated it there, looked down the length of her blade and saw popping veins, a girl begging her to please, stop.
please, let us go.
the word sorry traps itself behind lilith’s lips, but she doesn’t say it. all she does is look away and fix her mouth into a line. do not cross.
and, as ever, ava doesn’t cross the line.
she kisses it.
#fic: orbital mechanics#warrior nun#wn star wars au#avalil#but also technically#ava x lilith x beatrice#ty for the prompt!!#does evil morse code right back at u
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three body problem ❤-💛-💙 -> LB Lilith-Ava-Bea, always in orbit of each other
i can’t get over it sometimes that those are the colours of their lightsabers but anyway time for a shameless excerpt from my favourite thing i’ve ever written 😌😌 written, in part, because i knew that luminous beings would be dark, plagued by scatterings of light and little else, but i wanted to make it plain as daylight on this tiny planet that there is always peace in the end
orbital mechanics
///
the ceiling in their bedroom has a domed viewport that shows the stars, and beatrice watches a bright spot in the impossible distance and remembers what they told her about star nurseries, and what lilith called the three-body problem.
lilith, staring out of the viewport, the abyss of space reflected in her dark eyes.
stars have violent birthplaces. a cloud of dust collapses so completely that it forms a hydrostatic core. a point that draws heat towards itself, growing denser and denser, helplessly eating up everything around it. and then, eventually, it forms a star.
sometimes several stars. they form together.
with her red marker ava drew three circles, colouring them in with a loud squeaking sound that made lilith close her eyes momentarily and sigh.
where three stars become gravitationally bound – caught, shall we say, in one another’s pull – we call them a trapezia. like this one.
the Mantis sat on the edge of the system, where it was safe.
young, by the standard of stars, and incredibly unstable. prone to ejecting parts of itself at high velocities. a trapezia is an example of a three-body problem.
ava laughed.
this problem attempts to predict the motion of three bodies, taking their initial conditions to solve for their subsequent motion.
at this point, ava’s red marker began drawing with proper notation. nothing beatrice could read. just letters to the power of numbers. radical signs and brackets and factoring. some subtraction.
the problem with this problem is that the orbits of three massive bodies quickly become complicated. they seldom repeat their trajectories – after all they are pulling at each other at different times in different places, moving along strange orbits. they compete for the stability of their want without forming a proper hierarchy, as many other systems must. they just careen, wildly, through their space.
it is possible for these stars to collide. it is possible for these stars to be ejected from their system. binary orbits are far simpler, far safer.
there is an inevitability to the three-body problem. lilith said this strangely, and beatrice reached out to take her hand. a violence and a beauty and a tragedy to them. three bodies do not easily exist in this way. or, perhaps it is easy for them. perhaps it is wonderful, and free in its unpredictability, but it is probably doomed.
what could survive against all the laws of physics?
#casper don’t use italics for speech challenge impossible#but actually yeah i am most proud of this one. something about a soft epilogue#fic: orbital mechanics#wn star wars au#warrior nun#i’m actually getting there with the next sw au chapter#difficult to write at the moment but also feels closer somehow#always in orbit
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prompt! mary + "we give those we love nicknames, because love requires a word that belongs to us alone" (fredrick backman)
Mary sits cross-legged in the courtyard, hood pooled around her shoulders, staring straight ahead without seeing the younglings in her eyeline, pretend-duelling in a patch of sunlight.
Her hands pluck at the air, threading strands of invisible luminescence between her fingers, tugging them into a lattice, an alignment of colour and intention.
She ignores the ache that spirals through her hips from sitting in the same position for hours and hours, as dawn came and put dew onto everything, as the sun touched the furthest edge of the courtyard, coaxing the flowers back into bloom. Sound, sight, the texture of the stone beneath her, all of it fades as Mary presses every ounce of her concentration into holding her Force shield.
It’s supposed to be second-nature to her at this point. The others do it with a gesture, with a breath, casting a loose net of Force into the air to deflect soft projectiles and, more recently, stones. Mary has bruises all along her arms, her ribs, from blocking each one with her body.
Shannon’s fingers soft up under her shirt, probing each with terrible care.
“It’s not like… building a wall.” She said this, unhelpfully, while trailing the tip of her tongue along the path of Mary’s neck as they lay on her bunk, tangled up in Shannon’s nudibranch-print blanket. She splayed her palm over Mary’s shoulder, pressed lightly. “It’s more like throwing a tantrum. You just… put it out there.”
“Ah, that explains why you’re so good at it.”
Shannon’s teeth on her neck. Not a warning, never anything angry, just the pressure of her mouth.
“Oh, my girlfriend is a Jedi and a comedian?” Her breath laced with the faintest hint of toothpaste and the sour candy she ate afterwards, “Score.”
That was the same word she said on Ilum, shivering from the cold after Mary pulled her from an ice-cold pool. She stood with her teeth chattering, tucked her hands under Mary’s shirt to steal her heat. They were climbing through caves of ice and rock and monsters in search of kyber crystals and their first real lightsabers, not yet really certain of love.
In the dark, Shannon pressed a dozen of her effortless, invisible shields into the air above them, inviting Mary to press her hand into it, to feel the stretch of the molecules.
She explained it a dozen times, stretching her metaphors until she fell asleep with her mouth partly open, resting on Mary’s arm until it went numb. Still, Mary didn’t move.
The shield wouldn’t come to her. She could meditate for hours, trying to lash out with the Force, pretending to run with blaster bolts darting past her body, but no amount of daydreaming brought her any closer to manifesting a shield.
Maybe it was because, for her, using the Force has always been a thing of motion, a blind reaching-out. She touched it, used it first amid the blur of rock walls back on Tatooine, when she was seven and taking part in deadly races across the landscape of her home planet. Pod-racing was banned in Republic space, but there were no laws on Tatooine, just gangsters.
She remembers how she used to surround herself in a nimbus of something as her podracer threaded through the others. Her helmet rattling overlarge on her head and all the world reduced to the desert and the track and the need to cross that finish line. She used it more than usual on the day she met Shannon, performing a breakneck manoeuvre around crash close to the finish line, forcing power into her engine as she burned a runnel of hypermatter into the sand, taking a corner so fast that any other human would have broken the ship into pieces, but Mary held it through brute force.
The stands erupted when she pulled up, climbing out before the afterimage of the rupulsor-lines had disappeared from her eyes. She fought with the strap of the helmet under her chin, and then looked up and saw her.
The girl on the sidelines, surrounded by a gaggle of other, oddly-dressed children. There was a woman behind them, dark eyes fixed on Mary as she stood there.
The helmet slipped from her fingers, making a hollow noise as it bounced away from her boots, which were held together with random bits of leather and twine. She listed a little against the hot metal chassis, exhausted, but her eyes moved back to the girl, odd and golden with her hair chopped short.
She darted through the opening of the garage as Mary approached it, ignoring the other drivers glaring at her back and wondering if she’d be safe walking the eight miles back through the desert to her little nook in the old cave systems.
Wondering if Watto would pay her or insist on sinking her winnings into ‘repairs’ on the pod.
If she had enough credits in her threadbare backpack to buy some algae packets on the way through Mos Espa.
Then the girl, rushing out to meet her. Behind her, tall and steady and strange, was her guardian. Mary had always been observant – you had to be, living as an orphan on Tatooine – so she noticed the weapon on the woman’s hip as it caught the light.
She froze, even as the girl skidded to a halt in front of her with her arms behind her back, trying to stretch as tall as Mary.
She was shorter, just by an inch.
The Jedi stayed in the shade of the garage opening, letting the others racers stream inside, watching them shoulder-check Mary on their way past, though they avoided the other girl like water parting around a stone.
Mary wanted to run, or hide, or go back and drive the pod straight home even if it meant being charged for the fuel cells, but something in the girl’s posture stopped her.
She stuck out a small hand for some reason.
“Hi, I’m Shannon. You race well, but your corners are sloppy. You know momentum is a vector quantity, so you should keep to your lines as much as possible.”
Her hand stayed where it was with Mary staring at it. She didn’t know what a vector quantity was, but she knew how to take corners out in the desert. With a glare, she said, “The sand doesn’t let you travel in perfect lines. It has texture, and it moves with you. If I tried to move in a straight line, if I tried to fight it, I’d just lose more speed.”
“Oh, like a boat.”
“A what?”
“That’s enough, Shannon,” the Jedi called from inside the garage, but not harshly.
The girl – Shannon – stuck her hand back in the pocket of her robes. They were beige, and clean.
Mary, in contrast, wore her better shirt and the soft pads on her shoulders and her arms and her knees, which would stop her skin from sloughing off if she got thrown from her pod. They were patched together from dozens of trash piles, cannibalized into something that made her look like an overstuffed sofa.
“Master,” Shannon did a dainty little half-turn, heel rotating in the sand with a dancer’s grace, “I think I can feel it!”
Mary clutched at her helmet as the Jedi nodded, gesturing for Shannon to return to her side, which she did, hopping over and slotting herself in a half-step behind the Jedi.
Nothing spared Mary from that dark, alert gaze. There was a softness threaded under the Jedi’s words as she spoke, but they were a command.
“Tell me, child, where are your parents?”
A day later, Mary sat in a ship sent all the way from Coruscant to collect them, belted into a seat with cold metal coating her spine in goose-pimples. Her arms, too.
The ship had atmospheric controls, according to one of the droids tucked in at the entryway. The other children had ignored it, but Mary stopped to stare at it, all shiny in its casings, so unlike the PIT droids who scuttled around her pod at the refuelling stations.
Droid binary was Mary’s fourth language, so she wasn’t very good with it, but she knew enough to understand that atmospheric controls meant the ship could sit at an even 283 Kelvin, despite the heat of the desert.
Shannon noticed her prodding at the goose-pimples on her arms. At the time, she just thought of them as cold bumps, lacking the vocabulary for describing cold. Even in the desert, at night, when the temperatures can plummet fast and hard, Mary never left her skin so uncovered as to see it take on that texture.
“You’ll get used to it,” Shannon chirruped right in her ear. She’d claimed the seat next to Mary by glaring at one of the other younglings, who bowed out with the grace Mary expected from a Jedi in training.
Back then, Mary didn’t know what a bird was, but in the years to come she’d describe Shannon to herself as birdlike, flitting from place to place as though forever on the edge of flight.
“Get used to what?”
“Being cold.” Shannon nodded sagely, “Space is cold.”
The hum of the engine started in the metal all around them, and Mary pressed down into the seat, trying not so show fear. In Mos Espa, people could smell fear from a half-mile away even over the mounds of Ronto dung and the smell of roasting meat, so Mary had learned to bury hers deep out in the desert. She only took it out when she was alone with the light of her lantern, praying that her solar battery would last long enough for her to rehydrate the algae packet stuffed down in her boot.
A hand slipped over her armrest, catching Mary’s fingers in a tight, sweaty grip. “Don’t worry,” Shannon said lightly, “If we explode, we’ll barely understand that we’re dying before it’s all over.” She seemed to think this was comforting.
It was.
Mary stared, gravity pressing her into her seat as the ship peeled away from the planet’s surface. It only occurred to her then that she was leaving, and that in all likelihood she would never go back to Tatooine. She clung to that hand – her hand - as the ship accelerated, staring at the fingers criss-crossed with lines of charcoal, or ink.
Shannon was always sketching. She’d sketched Mary’s little house – or, well, her cave – when the Jedi drove them there on a speeder so that Mary could say goodbye to it. She wasn’t supposed to take anything with her, because she was going to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, because Jedi had to leave all of their past behind them.
There was nothing she would have taken, anyway, except perhaps a spare algae pack to keep in her boot, just in case it was all a trick, but the fingers tangled in hers felt solid as the ship transitioned into weightlessness and Mary floated up against the straps holding her in her seat. She became suddenly and violently aware of being loosened from the ground; that there was no ground, only space.
She clung to Shannon’s hand, laughing despite herself at the absurdity of it all. Over the roar of the engine, she heard Shannon yell, “I like to just pick a direction and call it down. It helps you not to feel sick if you can orient yourself, even arbitrarily.”
It was odd, hearing words like arbitrary coming from a seven-year old girl. The children Mary knew spoke mostly in curse words and a melange of different languages all competing with each other for syntax. She blinked, looking around for a direction. It made sense to decide that the floor of the ship was down, but some part of her knew that she had already oriented herself instinctually in relation to the hand clasped around hers, in relation to the girl at her side.
Shannon
///
She senses her first.
It’s a feeling Mary didn’t understand, for months and months after they kissed and the bond snapped into place. She described it to herself over and over as an indescribable warmth, or the first bite of food after starving, or the feeling right before you reach the finish line when you know you’re going to get there before anyone else.
‘Oh.’ She remembers sitting in her room with Shannon, elbows pressed together as they sat in the frame of the window looking out at the lights in the city where it poked above the bedrock. Mary sat there trying to describe what she felt when she touched Shannon, all the while watching a sketch take shape on the pad in Shannon’s lap, but it stopped when she floundered at the end of a sentence.
Shannon looked at her, and said ‘oh’, and then dropped her pencil onto the pad to take Mary’s hand. ‘I can describe it for you, if you want. It’s very simple, actually.’
‘I’ve been doing emotional long-division over it, so I hope not.’
A tight laugh, ‘It’s not really a, um…’
‘A skill issue?’
That was old slang, from the race track. A thread of their first argument about sand and corners and momentum.
‘No, it’s just…’ Shannon licked her lips, huffed out a sound that was not a laugh, not a sigh. Just an exhalation, maybe. ‘When I reach out for the bond,’ her hand tightened around Mary’s, ‘It, uh, it feels like coming home.’
That left her speechless. Many things did.
In the courtyard, with the impression of a barrier shimmering in the air like oil on water, Mary senses her first.
Sees her then, resolving into a smear of colour and light. Mary has to pick her out in pieces; her particular gait, sprinting full-tilt across the courtyard. The padawan braid behind her right ear, threaded with a ribbon of blue silk, a white band at the bottom because Shannon is studying healing.
She keeps bringing her notebook full of anatomical sketches into Mary’s room, showing her joints and tendons and using words like abduction and adduction, circumduction and plantarflexion.
Mary thinks she does it on purpose, because she thinks it makes her sound seductive.
It does.
She runs, trailing a succession of disapproving but unsurprised looks from Jedi in various meditation poses. Her braid is stuck to her neck with sweat and Mary knows immediately that she must have been ten levels down eating shrimp noodles, must have climbed up through the ducts and the elevator shafts to get here. Indeed, as the barrier wavers and collapses, as the feeling of home cuts through Mary’s concentration, she sees the streaks of black grease on Shannon’s hands as she hops over a decorative stream and straight through a bush until she has a straight shot at Mary.
Without deciding to, Mary stands, braces her backfoot for the moment Shannon crashes into her, hands tangling in her robes. “If you’re being chased by a fruit vendor again I’m not-”
But Shannon just pulls her behind one of the pillars, still out of breath. Her fingers leave stains on Mary’s robes.
“Did you-”
“Yeah the lift was taking too long to arrive but Mary, listen. I just had the worst thought in the world.”
“So you just had to share it with me.”
“Mary this is so, so serious.” And, despite the dab of sauce on her chin, despite her sweaty hair, longer now and pulled into a tail, she does look serious. Mary’s hand tightens on her shoulder, a wordless thing passing through the bond between them.
Shannon smiles, melting into Mary’s arms. She ducks her head, presses into Mary’s sternum, voice almost lost in the folds of her robes. “So I was down arguing with someone about the best broth for synth-noodles and you know it just hit me that we’re both shipping out soon. You have Cere and I have fucking knobbrains-”
“His name is Vincent.”
“-and then we’ll be ready for the trials in literally no time because you’re amazing and I’m stubborn.”
She pauses, suddenly. Mary rolls her eyes when she realises it’s for dramatic emphasis, and not so that Shannon can catch her breath.
“And then… we’ll be Jedi.”
“Shan, please tell me it isn’t just occurring to you now that we’re going to be Jedi.”
A finger pressed to her lips. One of the decorative fountains has a flaw in its plumbing - Mary can hear it, like she could always hear claws in the dirt when womp rats tried to bite her ankles back on Tatooine.
She listens to that, instead of the flutter of her heartbeat, as Shannon traces her bottom lip almost absently.
“No,” she admits. “I know we’re going to be Jedi, but did you ever think about, you know, what they call Jedi.”
“You mean Master.”
Shannon buries her face in Mary’s chest again, voice decidedly muffled now. “Mmff. Yeah. That.”
She waits, so Mary takes the bait, works it out. Just like long-division, always working back and back to follow the threads of Shannon’s thoughts. Mary imagines she’s untangling the wires of the repulsor engines in her pod, working to snap the energy field into place that latches the vehicle together and lets it fall apart gracefully when it doesn’t smash against a rock face.
It takes her almost a minute, during which Shannon keeps up a steady stream of pathetic noises.
Then, “Oh. Oh shit.”
“I’m going to erase myself from all legal records immediately.”
Mary looks down at her, at the nape of her neck still damp with sweat, the messy tangle of her tied-back hair. “Oh, come on. It won’t be that bad…. Master Masters.”
She darts a kiss onto Shannon’s scalp in the instant before her head whips up, pulling back to avoid Shannon’s head, to appreciate her consternated glare. Her laughter echoes through the courtyard, drawing eyes, but for once Mary doesn’t mind as she pulls Shannon into a hug.
She squirms, whispers harshly into Mary’s jaw, “You’re the worst girlfriend in at least nine parsecs.”
“Are you really upset?”
“Yes,” but she’s fiddling with Mary’s padawan braid. It’s simple, compared to Shannon’s with her bright silk thread, just a black band to mark her study in covert operations, in linguistics and in dampening her Force-signature. All the little techniques that keep Jedi spies alive in hostile space.
Mary kisses just under her ear, smirking when Shannon’s shivers against her. They’re still behind the pillar, but Shannon makes a small, wild noise and grabs Mary’s hand, pulling her into a small stand of tall shrubs and flowerbeds.
When they stop, she presses into Mary immediately, tongue slipping through her teeth. Mary kisses her back, feeling the Force spin around them as invisible threads of light.
Shannon breaks away with a breathy sound, taking both of Mary’s hands in hers and raising them up, leaning into them.
It’s an old game of theirs, locking hands, trying to push each other out of a ring of chalk sketched onto the ground. Now, it’s just habit.
“You can be the same as me,” Mary presses her thumbs into the soft centre of Shannon’s palms. “I don’t have a last name at all, so everyone will call me Master Mary, I suppose, which… also sounds stupid.”
“I promise to just call you Mary.”
They’re out of sight now, hidden among the tall shrubs and hushed by the noise of the water trickling through the grooves under their feet. Shannon doesn’t need to go up on her toes anymore to kiss her – she’s a whole inch taller, which she claims is ‘probably because of all the shrimp noodles and the shrimp chips and the-’
‘Wait, doesn’t ‘shrimpy’ mean small in Basic?’
‘Whatever.’
Mary feels the brush of her lips again, struck by their bond, that feeling of home, home, home. The kiss is long, lingering, Shannon’s hands slipping inside her robes, over her ribs. She knows where the bruises are, presses some and avoids others, swallowing the small sounds Mary makes.
It feels, for an instant, like they’re back on that ship making anchors of each other, like the floor is down but Shannon is the centre of it all.
When they pull away there’s a soft shimmer in the air all around them, a tight bubble that presses their bodies close. Shannon’s hands linger on Mary’s hips as she looks up, lips bruise-bright. She reaches out, and a cascade of colour erupts where her hand makes contact with something solid, shimmering and almost invisible.
“You did it,” she breathes, taking her hand back. Little globs of colourful light cling to her fingers for a moment before fading. “You made a shield.”
It’s stupid, repetitive, like things always falling toward the ground, but Mary reaches out and takes Shannon by the jaw. Kisses her because she knows too many languages to say the words that erupt in her mouth like bruises onto skin.
No, you’re my shield.
#wn star wars au#shannon x mary#warrior nun#ty for the prompt kei let's pretend it's been a short amount of time#casper writes#i will probably put this on ao3 somehow maybe perhaps#feeling very *screaming* lately about force-bonded jedi knights shannon & mary#oh and ty rayx for giving me this idea ykyk
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may the fourth be with you! ✨could we maybe get a snippet of star wars au on this blessed day?
😄 May the 4th be with you anon! it's a beautiful day for some star wars au Beatrice and Lilith, just being so chill and so normal
///
snippet - chapter 4
‘Don’t do that,’ Lilith says suddenly. She has her saber in her lap. Without her cloak wrapped around her she looks smaller, slighter. Tall and tightly-wound.
Beatrice finds her voice, miraculously -
‘Don’t do what?’
Lilith scowls. Her fingers tighten so imperceptibly around the hilt of her saber that most would not see it, but Beatrice knows every line in Lilith’s body. She knows the taste of her shoulders and the inside of her mouth, and her fingers, too. She sees how a tremor passes through them, the fretful whine of the Force around her body, shivering close against the frame of her face.
The Force loves Lilith almost as much as it hates Beatrice. She can relate to that.
It is strange with Lilith – the Force - not the sickly-sweet of the dark side. It is everywhere, now, laced through the empty air, filling every spare moment with the sound of burning hair, of rancid heat.
It isn't light, either. There are no crooked lines of illumination in the bird-black of Lilith's hair. She is clean heat and dust and the scent of sketching charcoal - not the saltwater of the light side, though Lilith doesn't taste so different from the warm wash of water over beach stone. But it's not about light. She is not the light so much as she is in all the places light won't touch.
She is something else. If pressed, Beatrice might describe it as a creaturely thing; an animal scampering along Lilith’s bare arms, or some great winged shape wrapped around her. A caustic smell, annotated with sourness, but clean in the manner of a beachhead plundered by boats.
Beatrice looks at her, eyes hooded with bruises.
'Don't do what?' She repeats, as though there is any mystery in it, as though it is not absolutely clear that Lilith - always, only, forever - wants her to stop bleeding, or at least to care where the blood falls.
Lilith reaches out, catches a fat drop of blood as it descends. Her palm looks dirty with the red crawling through it.
‘It’s my blood,’ Beatrice says quietly. ‘I can put it where I like.’
She doesn’t mean to say it like that, doesn’t mean to tilt her face up so that she might observe Lilith’s pupils blow wider than even the dark desert has made them. She’s beautiful, in her terrible way, and it’s very easy to stir the air. To feel, once again, bite marks littering up her abdomen, the press and pierce of Lilith’s teeth and her ungentle mouth. The miracle of her, healing each puncture as it happens with the graze of her tongue or the brush of her bottom lip.
But it’s easy – always so easy – to take what is between them and put it between them.
‘Fine. It’s your blood,’ Lilith mutters. She looks away, out into the desert, as though searching for something to say, some rebuke or witticism or anything. But neither of them have the knack for saying what they ought to – half of the time Beatrice does not even have the knack for speaking at all - so Lilith's mouth only closes around what it might have said.
Beatrice knows that Lilith would allow her to pry it back open. That she could reach across their space to place forefinger and middle finger delicately on Lilith’s bottom lip, chapped from the desert wind. Draw it down, open, to remind them both of every unspeakable thing they have considered doing, if only to put another wall between what Beatrice said and what she wanted to say, what she did not dare to say.
That she doesn’t mind bleeding at all. Sometimes it feels like relief. It makes her feel empty. We’re terrible, she thinks, aren’t we? We come to town and they lock their doors.
But she doesn’t say it.
She does not say, there are days when I feel like a rupture, and at any moment I might touch something only to watch it shatter. And she does not say, I bleed to feel empty, but it never works. I am too full of myself to carry myself.
Because Lilith would say something like, ‘I can carry you,’ and it would mean too much.
#ty anon!#i hope you like this little snippet#i also wish i could say they start being normal after this but they don't#wn star wars au#warrior nun
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