#sylucy

AU: xerxes and lucy are ‘twins’playing: 奶水 (milk)— mili             zip up             seal up our skin             and we shall become one

he saw her as smart, brave and a great sister. she’d be as violent as him, and they’d spar and banter with ease. they’d enjoy training, maintaining their fitness and enjoy life however they want it to be.

they were brazen siblings, not always approved by their parents—but it’s fine, because they didn’t want to be like them anyways. mother would have grown frustrated and mad at her because she would not put on the dress, but his sister remained defiant because she would not go off to please people and put up a farce.

they would have run from home together, and they’d both pull through because they have each other. he didn’t believe she could be frail, because she was his twin after all. and as they were twins, they’d stick to each other, shared beliefs and of course their love for violence.

ah his sister, so honest and clever and brave and—

non-existent.

because she never lived, never managed to become more than a fetus. fetal resorption—that’s what they called it. died in the utero and then reabsorbed. he lived, but she did not. and that had always made him wonder, what it would be like if he did have a sister. because how would have his life changed if he did?

mother had always shouted “I bet if your sister was born, she would have listened and been perfect!”

and he would glare back, because she was his twin. and no twin of his would be listening to his parents who would want them to be their tools. no sister of his would let themselves be trapped and shackled by the adults horrid manipulation. for he and her, they would have been free. and he would not let mother’s words tarnish the only one he could call family—even if she had never had her heart beating.

and he found himself imagining her again.

SEND ME ‘☾’ FOR AN AESTHETIC OF OUR MUSES, OR SEND ME A ‘⚡’ FOR A MOODBOARD OF OUR MUSES.

@sylucy

Send “✉” for a text that WASN’T SENT.   [ tx; possible mutineer #5 ] sometimes i think i should just feed u to the void   [ tx; possible mutineer #5 ] alliance-spawn…

Send “⁇” for a DRUNK text.   [ tx; possible mutineer #5 ] wreer   [ tx; possible mutineer #5 ] gnna   [ tx; possible mutineer #5 ] FITE

Send “✿” for a SUGGESTIVE text.   [ tx; possible mutineer #5 ] so kamora’s having private sex ed tutoring   [ tx; possible mutineer #5 ] u should totally go :))))

@sylucy

jaewon slides the whetstone across the thin edge of his knife, the slicing sound filling up the atmosphere of the mess hall. it’s a familiar sound, a warm sound, something that bites and scrapes but is still somehow akin to the sharpness of his heart, enough to set him at ease. oftentimes he cleans his weapons as a means of relaxation, and maybe that speaks volumes to the type of monster he’s become, but at least he knows he’s not alone in that regard. it seems his ship is all kinds of infested with monsters as of late. he intends on rooting that out right about now though.

it’s evening and only a few stragglers wander through the hallways of his ship, but he waits for only one of them to make an entrance, knowing she’ll come this way eventually, if for no other reason than to get to the quarters section. he doesn’t stress about her arrival, confident in himself and in his capabilities to neutralize any threat, because he always does, he always has, he always will. she’s good, he’ll grant her that, formidable and not someone he would whimsically fight with, but he has more at stake than she does, has fought longer and harder and bloodier than she could ever imagine, and she’s on his boat. he’s got the home advantage.

These are from this fic ask meme. I started answering a few days ago but Tumblr ate the draft and I got sad and put off rewriting my answer .-.

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

God this is hard bc dialogue is my favorite thing to write. So this is more than a line, but it's the emotional climax and I spent a long-ass time getting it just right. Leo's spent the while fic (the whole game) playing Sylvester like a fiddle, and finally Sylvester bites back.

This time, Sylvester took a step forward, and it was Leo who took a step back. “You’ll never touch me again without thinking about him.”  Another step forward; another step back.  “You’ll never kiss me again without remembering how I looked at him.”  Forward.  Back.  “You’ll never fuck me again without knowing that no matter how much you may make me beg for you, I wanted Luciano Meri more.”

Writing-wise, I really like the sort of escalating triplet of you'll never touch me/kiss me/fuck me. Character-wise it's also fun because Syl is hitting Leo where it'll hurt most with fucking laser precision.

11: What do you like best about this fic?

Hmm... that's kinda hard to pin down. In some ways my favorite part is simply that it exists, since it was the first real fic I've written and been genuinely excited about in years. Another thing is that it was the first Ashen Frost fic I wrote, and getting inside the characters' heads came so naturally and was so fun from the beginning. The fic also made people sad! Which was the point! (Though not as sad as one of my more recent AF fics 😈)

ACCEPTED

@sylucy

quick as light photons, jaewon’s blade stabs into the heart of a soldier standing guard down a hallway, the young man’s eyes widening and then shutting faster than he could probably realize what was happening, jaewon having managed to sneak up behind him. generally speaking, if you let someone come up behind you, you’re almost asking to get murdered, and in valluria the sands would almost demand it. perhaps there is supposed to be another guard watching the other way but this one is not so lucky it seems, and not aware of his surroundings enough to deserve the position he’d been given.

jaewon relieves him of it, stabbing him through the back, under his shoulder blades, and then curses for getting a drop of blood on his pants. and he wipe it off either because that will only spread it, so he just huffs and sneaks down the rest of the corridor, careful and slow, gold eyes on alert, wide and dangerous. he knows he ought not to be around here on his own, he should have picked someone to come with him, but for this part, he mostly just wants to be sure the vault is even down here, and he doesn’t want to be slowed down. and mina and kafka are busy, while half of his people are too busy enjoying themselves.

he nears a corner, a slight rustling sound coming from that direction, and crouches down low, slowing his pace and clenching his jaw, knives at the ready, burning hot against his palms. he waits a measured beat before turning the corner, blood high, hackles raised, a fight on his tongue and a heart on fire.