#this is a wip wednesday so please ignore any mistakes

[fuckingyrs]

The sound of a body throwing itself onto one of the infirmary cots echoed through the mostly empty room, followed closely behind with a dramatic, but melodic sigh. “Can I say something mean?” 

“Probably not in front of the baby.”

Will groaned, looking up from his pile of patient reports he had been sorting for the past… year. “I hardly think eleven still counts as being a baby.”

Lee, who had been refilling first aid kits for the past two hours, contemplated this for a moment. “Maybe, but that’s besides the point. I’m six years older than you. You’ll always be a baby.”

“I’m going to say something mean. Will, cover your ears.”

“I’m not covering my ears, Taylor. Unlike you, I’m working right now and I need my hands.”

“Oh,” Taylor dragged, a taunt evident in her voice, "someone's grumpy.”

“He’s mad I put him on infirmary duty during arts and crafts.”

“Will, you aren’t good at arts and crafts.” Lee slapped her arm. “And you like working in the infirmary, you are constantly taking my shifts. It’s why I love you.”

Lee slapped her arm again. “Taylor, what the heck.”

Taylor groaned, “Fuck. Just say fuck. I’m begging you.”

“That’s besides the point. I had it with Cecil. We were going to finish our board game.” Will turned to Lee, pointing an accusing finger at him, “You knew this.”

Lee let out a long-suffering sigh and Will almost felt bad for causing a fuss, but really, Lee brought this upon himself. “Taylor, stop pawning off your shifts to Will. Will, stop letting Taylor’s pawn off her shifts to you. Also: I’m sorry about arts and crafts. The last few days have been hectic and I needed your help. I’ll make sure to not schedule you over arts and crafts next week.”

“I’m going to be home next week! Mama is picking me up, remember?”

Lee had the decency to look ashamed when he said, “Heck. I forgot. I’m sorry, Will.”

Taylor got up from her self-designated cot and walked over to Will, ruffling his hair once she was close enough. “I’ll take over the rest of your shift, buddy. You go have fun.”

Will shook his head, “No, it’s okay. I’m already here. Arts and crafts is half-way done anyway. We wouldn’t be able to finish.”

“If you’re sure,” Taylor sighed as she pressed a kiss to his forehead and Will let out a cry of protest because he could feel the lipstick stain there. He tried rubbing it away with his fingers but by the look on Lee’s face and the snickers Taylor was making behind him, he only made it worse.

Lee graciously handed Will a wipe before glaring at their sister. “Taylor, what are you even doing here?”

“I think I made that pretty obvious when I threw myself onto a bed and stated I was gonna say something mean. I came to gossip.”

“You should be at archery right now.”

“Mike was being a piss-baby. He wouldn’t let Josh and I try to hit one another. What’s the point of being in advanced archery if you can’t shoot at your brother? Moving targets!”

“So you left?”

“Yep. I found Silena and she offered to do my nails before I came by.”

Lee pinched the bridge of his nose in a way that resembled an old man at the end of his rope. Will suppressed a giggle at his brother’s anguish as Lee said, “You can’t do that.”

“Do what? My nails?”

“Leave Michael like that.”

“Why? He’s not in charge of me.”

“But I am. And he’s my second in command, so yes he is.”

Taylor groaned, flopping back onto her cot. “One, he’s like three weeks older than me, unfair. And two, none of that is important right now. What is important is that our father was here and didn’t say hi to any of us. Who does that?”

“Our father, apparently.”

Taylor flipped Lee off, showing off her new manicure. It was baby pink, like her lipstick, with a little sun in the center. “He gives those kids a ride, none of them his, and has the audacity to leave before saying hi? Hell, Will over here has never met him. He has time to bring a group of kids to camp, but can’t spare a lousy minute to check in on us? And I can’t say this to Michael or he’ll claim I’m “on the other side”.” Taylor sighed, a faraway look in her eyes. Will had only seen this look on her face a few times before: every time Luke was mentioned. “I’m just tired of feeling abandoned and I’m sick of feeling like it’s bad to think that.”

Lee stepped towards her, a soft, “Tay–” passing through his lips, before she sat up and shook herself out of her stupor.

“Instead of saying hi, he just causes chaos and disappears! He brings Percy back, which is never a good sign. Thalia is driving the sun chariot, and crashes it! Oh, and he brought that new weird kid that keeps bombarding everyone with questions.”

Will saw through the change of topic, and Lee clearly had to as well, but he allowed it to happen. He slapped her on the arm for the third time, “He’s not weird. He’s, like, eight. The kid is just excited. You were excited about camp once upon a time.”

Taylor turned to Will, jerking her head at Lee, “I think he’s finally lost it. When have I ever been excited by anything ever?”

Will grinned, “Yesterday, you beat Madi at Josh’s song quiz and you danced around the cabin for ten minutes.”

Taylor gasped loud and dramatic, clutching at her chest as she fell back onto her cot, chestnut hair falling all over her face in her fall. “William! How dare you accuse me of such things!”

#will solace #lee fletcher #solangelo #wip wednesday #solangelo fic #solangelo fanfiction #pjo #pjo fandom #mine.doc #i swear nico is in this just... later #for now its just cabin seven sibling antics #this is a wip wednesday so please ignore any mistakes #i want to have this fic posted saturday but i'm historically not great at self-inflected deadlines #my “birthday” fic was posted five days after my birthday soooo #my goal is to post this at the airport before i get on a plane but we shall see #this fic is an interpretation of nico and will meeting. like. the meeting mentioned in tsats but its also a will coming out to his mom fic #but like. not all that serious. in fact its very silly #if you read my fic 'a little house on the edge of town' it mentions will coming out and this is the story that alludes to #look at me just yapping in tumblr tags #rip taylor you would have loved kayla #thats a joke taylor knew kayla before she 💀

[rainpebble3]

WIP ... Some day...

So we're probably closer to Friday... but I've been tagged in WIP Wednesday by the incredible @thequeenofthewinter and @dirty-bosmer. I'm slowly, slowly starting to chip away at the masses of OUTSTANDING chapters to catch up on and I've been hammering at a little bit of Layers of Snow and Ash. It's been tricky and chances are this snippet will be severely chopped and tidied before the next chapter is ready.

I'm so late to WIP Wednesday and I have no idea who has been tagged already or not so... if you see this and haven't posted a WIP yet, this is my invitation to you.

Today's screenshot represents me trying to write this chapter and Nera trying to cope with all the new people in the college.

<3

Chapter 12 - The Tour

From their position in the crowd, Nera and Brelyna were barely close enough to hear Master Ervine. Her voice was nearly lost on crashing waves of several footsteps. The fragile, icy shell that had sealed the courtyard earlier was well and truly shattered by the morning sun as flaming rays of sunlight bathed the layers of frost on trees. Nera nearly fell into the person in front of her as the group abruptly stopped next to one of the magical light fountains.

“You will have noticed this, as well as the several others around the college, I’m sure. We ask that you do not touch these. In simple terms they channel the magic being used here, keeping it safe and stable. Any interferences could result in catastrophic consequences…”

“Like another great collapse?!” a tiny voice squeaked.

The group turned to the speaker while Master Ervine pulled her lips together in a tight line. The person, an elf, blushed, turning their olive skin pink and they quickly pulled their hood down over their head. The only thing that could be seen of their face were swirling, thorny tattoos coating their chin like a beard.

Master Ervine cleared her throat. “I won’t lie, it’s certainly a risk. This college currently has four hundred mages studying and working here. It takes a vast amount of energy to accommodate this power.”

Nera’s eyes widened. “Where are they all?” she blurted out and felt the eyes of the group land on her. She nearly apologised for speaking out of turn but a quick look from Brelyna saved her. She was a Maryon now. She could ask any questions she wanted.

“You have Master Neloren to thank for that,” Master Ervine said. “He is our Master of Illusion and has helped enchant the college to be capable of sustaining large groups of students while maintaining a tranquil environment. Now if there are no further interruptions…”

Nodding, Nera ignored the group until Master Ervine started walking onwards. Brelyna nudged her with a silent glare but too many people were crowded around them. Saying anything was impossible so Nera settled for a subtle shrug. She winced as one of the Argonians stepped on her foot, however she had no way to tell if it was a harmless mistake of someone crushed in a small group, or a deliberate attack. She shook herself. This wasn’t Windhelm. There would be no attacks.

Master Ervine led them across the courtyard and stopped outside of the Lustratorium. “Before we enter, I must let you know, there are some plants in here which may be considered dangerous, they will not harm you unless you try to disturb them. Please do not touch anything.”

Silent mutterings of agreement rose from the group. Nera gasped as she was shoved forward, stuck in the current of flapping robes and stamping boots. She hurried forward, avoiding the harsh slap of a tail and ended up behind the crimson clad battle mages.

Entering the Lustratorium was intoxicating. Her eyes watered as soon as her feet crossed the threshold, her nose burned as a hundred types of pollen wafted over her. She wasn’t the only one affected by the plants and several mages coughed, wiping their eyes on their sleeves. Master Ervine looked over her shoulder and smirked.

“You get used to it.”

Somehow Master Ervine was able to speak over the coughs and sneezes of the new mages. They passed plants from different corners of Tamriel and Nera resented being pushed forward, longing for a chance to stop and admire the flowers. Especially when Master Ervine mentioned alien flora and leaves from Morrowind.

#skyrim #skyrim fanfiction #the elder scrolls v: skyrim #modded skyrim #wip wednesday #writing #elder scrolls #i should be writing #tes

[randomtacoscry]

WIP Wednesday

SPOILERS!!!

So I wasn't really planning on posting any of my WIP this week, but I decided last minute that I'd do it anyways. Also, I know it's probably not Wednesday for a lot of you but it still is for me! So, this one isn't great- but it is a predecessor to one of my other WIPs (one of my previous ones actually continues off this one so you can read that too if you want) so I thought it'd be a fun one to post. Please keep in mind that this is a work in progress and that this will definitely be re-written to sound a bit better. Before reading, just wanted to let you know that there may be some SPOILERS to the final fic. If you want to read this and avoid the spoilers, DO NOT READ the crossed out words as they give away a somewhat main plot point.

Anyways, thanks for reading! (And, even if you do read this, you'll probably forget about it when the fic actually comes out bc it's far from finished anyways!)

Wallowing in his own self-pity (and maybe some denial) wasn’t Pete’s ideal way to spend his evening, but he didn’t have the energy to do much else. His eyes flutter between open and closed before he hears the ringing of the doorbell at the front door and he begrudgingly gets up to answer it. A sharp two knocks hit the door before Pete swings it open, revealing a familiar face.

Tom looks tired. He’s breathing deeply and the lines around his eyes have become more prominent than Pete remembers. They stare at each other for a minute before Pete steps slightly to the side, allowing a space for Tom to walk into the house. He makes his way into the living room quickly before beginning to tap his foot slightly and Pete can tell he’s deep in thought.

“Am I making a huge mistake?” Pete can hear the desperation in his voice. He can tell Tom is exhausted and he knows exactly what the man wants him to say. 

“Tom…” 

Tom turns around to walk over to Pete. He stops to stand a safe few feet away and it reminds Pete of a decade ago when the pair would ignore each other for the sheer sake of doing just that. “Am I?” He says breathlessly and Pete hates the way he stares into his eyes. He hates that Tom makes Pete feel every emotion he is feeling because of his ridiculously good ability to maintain eye contact. 

Pete looks away before meeting his eyes again, “I can’t tell you what you want to hear.” Pete can’t be the only one fighting for the two of them, and it seems like he’s the only one who ever has. Tom looks at Pete, his eyes pleading, but doesn’t say anything. His breath is shaky and Pete can’t tell if the other man ran all the way here or is on the verge of a panic attack. Pete can’t bring himself to say any more. He’s just asking himself questions; why is Tom here? Why is he here the night before his wedding? Is he asking Pete to not come? Is he trying to call off the wedding? Is he here to talk to Bradley? Pete is brought out of his mind when Tom begins closing the distance between the two of them. He walks forward so they’re inches apart, and Pete can smell the earthy sandalwood scent of his cologne (a scent Pete’s become familiar with over the last decade and a half). Tom’s eyes are almost begging him to answer the question and Pete knows what he wants to answer with. He wants to tell Tom he’s making the biggest mistake of his life. He wants to tell him to come back and be with him again. Pete feels Tom’s right hand lift to touch his cheek. It’s tentative, and nervous, like Tom is afraid of Pete’s reaction. Pete hates that he leans into it slightly, and Tom holds the left of his jaw in a gentle caress. “Pete…” Pete’s seen Tom cry only a handful of times in his life, but he’s never looked more broken, standing there, tears filling his eyes but never falling. Pete brings his hand up to hold the back of Tom’s; his hand is cold against Pete’s warm palm.

#icemav #wip wednesday #top gun #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #current wip #wip #fanfic

[piecesofeden11]

WIP-Wednesday

Here's a snippet from Chapter 6 of "Like Puppets on a Broken String" Things must get really, really bad before they can get super good, right? I promise, there's light at the end of the nightmare tunnel but I still have some things planned for these boys! <3

As always, these are, in parts, unedited so any mistakes/inconsistencies/plot holes you find, please ignore them! Let me know what you think <3

The council chamber was vacant, the Jedi not assigned to help Mace Windu confront Darth Sidious, were on their way to prepare the Temple for a potential attack. Yoda, as had been decided with some urgency, was on his way to Kashyyyk. The mission had been a matter of public discussion and his departure was expected. In an effort not to create too much suspicion, he was now on his way as planned.

Anakin had stayed behind, unsure of what to do with himself. He itched to follow Windu, help confront Palpatine. He wanted to go to Padmé, warn her about the potential chaos about to ensue. He also wanted to beg her to leave Coruscant as soon as possible, be safe on Naboo, under strict medical observation in case anything went wrong with the child. He thought of contacting Ahsoka, enlisting her help perhaps. Most of all, he needed Obi-Wan. Even just a spark in the Force, anything.

He's fine. He'll be fine. There is no fire on Utapau, no lava.

But doubt continued to gnaw at him, his mind conjuring scenario after scenario of how his visions would come true while he sat idle and useless.

I can help you save them. You need but bend the knee and all the power you need will be yours, my boy.

Palpatine's - Sidious' - voice lanced through his brain and he shivered.

"He's a Sith! He's lying to me!"

Speaking into the empty room, Anakin began to pace again, nerves strung too tight to keep still.

But what if he isn't. Then you'll risk both Padmé's and Obi-Wan's life.

The thought was agonizing, but the alternative was unthinkable. He would not - could not - align himself with the Sith. Obi-Wan would never forgive him.

Fear and pain and anger danced in his mind, nearly driving him up the wall, until the burst from his lips in a hoarse scream, an explosion of the Force that made the transparisteel windows shake. Yet it was still not enough, the energy, the tension was still there, right under the surface of his skin, taunting him, burning him, until it was almost too much to bear.

And then, so sudden he almost staggered from the lack of if, it was all gone and a single, clear thought struck his mind.

I am the Chosen One! All that power that he promises, I already have! How did I not see this before?

The shackles of doubt and fear that had been wrapped around him ever since the visions began, suddenly slipped away, replaced by grim determination. Opening himself up to the Force, he widened his senses, reaches far beyond the limits of the Temple.

Sidious' presences in the Senate offices was like a beacon, so clear and bright, now that Anakin was finally aware of him. How could the Jedi have been so blind to it before? How could he have been so oblivious? He pushed these thoughts aside for the moment, to be contemplated another day.

Focusing his mind on that single burning flame of darkness, Anakin infused the Force with as much of his own anger as could and shot it like a warning towards the Sith.

I am coming for you and you will not be ready!

Then, he wheeled around, robes flaring dramatically behind him and took off running. He had a meeting to attend after all.

#my writing #star wars #fanfiction #obikin #anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #like puppets on a broken string #wip wednesday

[wanderingaldecaldo]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @arcandoria last week, thank you! I've been writing this scene in my notebook and had to transcribe it first, so forgive me for being late. Presenting the full scene (so far) fairly raw and with little editing. Of course it's corpo!Val brainrot.

Also, tagging with zero pressure: @steelphoto, @rockerboyrepo, @impishbiscuit, @starsandskies, @ravenstrange, @yourblues, @fereldanwench, @arcandoria, @dreamsevergreen

Also also, if you want to be tagged in these (or I have and you don't want me to) please let me know!

The room keeps spinning and the big guy Pepe has turned into two big guys and neither seems to like him because both stand cross-armed and glaring. Val has been gone an eternity now, and under Pepe’s scowl each minute ticks by even slower. At last a patron at the other end of the bar calls him away and Mitch sighs in relief. Movement from the other direction catches his eye and he turns to see Val—only one of her—walking toward the bar. She smiles broadly and his stomach jostles, a troubling sensation he hasn’t felt in years.

When she resumes her seat, he leans over and whispers, “Don’t think he likes me.”

“Pepe? Not surprising. He never likes any men I bring to the bar. He’s been nursing a crush on me for years.”

Mitch hums. Easy to see why—smart, funny, gorgeous.... He shakes his head to interrupt that train of thought, which is also a mistake because the room lurches in the other direction and he slides off his bar stool toward Val. She catches his bicep, laughing as she rights him.

"You okay?"

He nods, carefully this time. “Nothing a little sleep and a stim in the morning won’t fix.”

“Maybe you should crash at my place tonight. Got a couple of couches. Can’t say I know how they are for sleeping, but better that than risking you driving back to camp like this.”

“Heh, prolly right. Been awhile since I had a few too many.”

“I’ll get Del to send a cab.” She quiets for a moment as she orders the taxi via her agent then she glances at him. “Ten minutes. Wanna wait here or outside?”

“Could use some fresh air.”

“Give me a sec to settle up.”

Mitch rests his head on the bar, ignoring the sticky film that clings to his temple where it touches the counter. Val, still in his line of vision but now sideways, steps toward Pepe. The big man mutters at her, his dark eyes stealing away to glance at Mitch. He can’t discern what is being said until he hears “Nomad” spat like a curse, and he bolts upright, wobbling as he does. Pepe might be able to knock him out with one good swing but he can duck and weave and do some damage first, and he is drunk enough to push his luck.

Before he can say a thing, Val snaps at the bartender, the edge in her voice as sharp as the Mantis Blades tucked away in her forearms. “That Nomad,” she says, jabbing a gold finger at Mitch, “is one of the kindest, most loyal people I’ve ever known so you will treat him with respect.”

Mitch gapes before swallowing and blinking while Pepe glowers at her before his eyes slide sideways to him once more. Mitch holds the stare, the fight in him buoyed by the vehemence of her defense of him as much as the alcohol, and both make him giddy. At last the big man yields though his glare and furrowed brow still convey his true opinions, and a reckless part of him wishes he could settle things outside, regardless of how Pepe would pummel him, or even because of it. He hasn’t had that self-destructive urge recently, and not nearly with the intensity he felt immediately after Driss’s death, but still it skitters beneath his skin and he longs to give in to it.

Val’s eyes light up as she pays the bill, the emerald transforming to a crackling lightning blue. Once the transaction is complete, she turns back to Mitch. “I’m sorry about that. He’s never been so vocal with his jealousy.”

“Bring guys here often, huh?” he asks, unable to stop himself, and he cringes before the words have left his tongue. He turns his gaze to the mostly empty beer glass in front of him, but she laughs, a real one, rich and hearty, and he loves the sound. 

“And women, yes, though I wouldn't say often. To either,” she adds, and he can hear a sly smirk in her tone.

His cheeks warm as he tilts and rotates the glass, attention still fixed on the amber liquid as it rolls around. “Probably just the usual Nomad hate,” Mitch muses. “Y’know, might be nice to see how the other half lives. Not be seen as a dirty, lazy drifter.”

Val is studying him when he looks back up, and the way her eyes pierce through him unsettles him. He shrugs off her gaze and drains the last of warm beer from his glass, then replaces it on the counter. She slips her hand into the crook of his flesh elbow and tugs him away from the bar. He grins down at her, this time unbothered by the close contact—a by-product of the alcohol, and an enjoyable one at that. As they walk she waves across the bar to a middle-aged woman then they burst out into the neon of the city. 

The cool air feels delicious on his face, flushed as it is from the alcohol and her incessant flirting. The attention makes him feel a decade younger, at least. Mitch pulls away from her to light a cigarette and extends the pack. When she accepts and brings an unlit cigarette to her lips, he holds out the lighter and holds his breath, hoping for an errant touch of her hand. She obliges, placing the cool metal of her golden fingers on this wrist as she leans into the flame. Her eyes flicker up to his, and her fingers linger a fraction of a second too long and his skin tingles. Suddenly he remembers the cartoons he used to watch with his mom, how the tricked coyote would speed off the cliff without realizing it, and only after looking down would gravity take hold, leaving the him to plummet to the ground far below.

Tucking the lighter and cigarettes back into his pockets, Mitch turns away and searches the night sky for the moon. He finds a faint white glow around a skyscraper where he expects to find the moon itself. While the light pollution from Night City makes some of the more remote stars difficult to spot, he’s used to being able to see more than this, and it makes him homesick for a place just a few miles off.

Feeling sure of his footing once more, Mitch turns back to Val. She leans against the building, regarding him as she ashes her cigarette. The alcohol makes him bold. “What?”

Her lips quirking, she takes a pull of smoke and tilts her face to the sky, releasing the smoke with her eyes still fixed on him. “Just thinking about how nicely you clean up.”

His heart pounds against the cage of his ribs and his cheeks flush, but he holds her gaze. “Not bad for a dirty Nomad, huh.”

“Not bad at all.”

A warmth fills his chest and rises up his neck to his cheeks, and he smiles proudly before turning his face to the sky and releasing a stream of smoke. He watches it drift into the miasma of Night City, dissipating into the heavy quilt of smog and grime that has weighed him down since his Coyote crossed the city limits this afternoon. 

Beside him she smokes her own cigarette, lost in her own thoughts. Her face is relaxed, unguarded as she watches the Heywood foot traffic. She has aged more than her share over the past year. More than age; there’s a weight to her presence he never felt before, and he doesn’t think it has to do with being the city’s most famous, currently living, former merc turned top fixer and owner of the most notorious establishment in Night City. Something heavier than all that.

#wip wednesday #valerie vermilion #mitch anderson #wash's writing #corpo!val au #unnamed corpo au story that is consuming my brain #cyberpunk fanfic #excerpt #tag meme #arcandoria #born to run #ship: born to run #mitch x val

[makeroftherunes]

"The Elysium" for WIP Wednesday?

The Elysium, Pt 2!

Thank you so much for requesting this one - you get the very tail end of the original kernel of my idea, so it's all down hill from here. Good timing!

Zeus winced. Persephone was perhaps one of the few gods to whom he actually listened - she never let him forget the way he’d bartered her freedom away to her mother like a business, and that he had never seen fit to correct the mortals on their perception of our marriage. It also could have been that she’s never taken his womanizing shit - Hera could learn something. The King of Swans or whatever bowed slightly to my wife, acknowledging his mistake.

“My apologies, Persephone. This young mortal has been chosen for a quest, and as they are-”

“Hold it.” She held up a hand, and even Zeus stammered to a halt. She turned to Mel. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“M-Mel,” Mel said. 

“Hello Mel,” Persephone knelt down and shook their hand. “I’m sorry to meet you like this, but I am glad you’re here and that my husband is taking care of you. I have to ask you some questions, sweetheart, is that okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” Mel said, sitting up a little straighter. I examined their expression. They seemed to want to make a good impression, but they weren’t checking her out. More like, they wanted her to like them. I wanted to tell them not to try so hard - Persephone didn’t make her affection the carrot.

“How old are you, Mel?”

“I’m, uh, 16. Or I will be soon.”

“When’s your birthday?” 

“Um, next Sunday.”

“Aha! The 18th, then. Lovely. Have you had any water or seen a doctor?”

At the mention of doctors, the kid shrunk away from her. “No doctors,” I said gently, “No hospitals. I promise.” They looked at me, and nodded a little.

Persephone straightened, and looked straight at Zeus. “This child is 15 years old. Do you really think that they are in any way, shape or form the ‘hero’ you need? They should be in school! They should be working on homework and going out for burgers and sneaking joints-” I noticed Mel suddenly looking anywhere but me- “NOT going off to be bloody QUESTING. It is the Modern Age, Zeus, for the love of Chr-”

“Please, not him.” Zeus interrupted. “Upstart immortal thinks he can-” His mouth suddenly filled with flowers. 

“Persie!” I half chuckled, half warned. The flowers wilted and fell, Zeus sending the last petals spinning with his coughing. “I agree, Zeus, this is a matter that can’t be ignored, but this kid is not going into danger injured and alone. There’s not a chance in hell I’m letting you pick them.”

The room got very quiet. 

“You let me?” Zeus growled. The air seemed to crackle again. “I might be younger, Hades, but I am your King. I am King of the Gods, and no matter what hellfire you have at your disposal, I rule you. My word is law. You. Allow. NOTHING.” 

Persephone pulled Mel and their chair back, stepping in front of them.

My body flared in anger, the veins of ambrosia sizzling. I answered his might with mine, shadow and dread creeping from the shadows behind me. The light above the table flared, died, flared, died, as though caught perfectly between. Zeus’s human form seemed to age before me, wrinkles appearing, neck bending, eyes clouding-

“I’ll do it.”

“What?” Zeus and I said at the same time. The light bulb screamed in rage, then blew the filaments entirely.

“I’ll do it,” Mel repeated, leaning around Persephone to meet my eyes. “Look, I don’t even know anything about you guys. I read some books in school. Percy Jackson was cool, but I don’t know you. But you know, whatever. Will it get me out of here?” They gestured vaguely, which I took to mean this existence in general and not an offense to my nightclub.

“Mel, this will be dangerous,” I said, easing back my anger. “You could die, there will be terrors, horrible things -”

“Yeah, I know, horrors beyond my comprehension, etc. Listen, uh, Mr. Hades, Lord Hades? I work retail. I have seen humanity at its worst. Literally anything would be better.” They got to their feet, and Persephone glanced at me. I gave her a frustrated look. I couldn’t let this kid do this. Alone, anyway. Persie nodded to me.

“Mel, are you sure?” She asked.

“Yes, Lady Persephone Ma’am,” they said, giving her a non-convincing smile. “I think I am. Chances are, I’m already dead or hallucinating this whole thing. And if I’m not, who would believe me?” 

“Fine,” I said, putting a hand on their shoulder, “then you aren’t going alone.” They began to say something, but I let the shadows come back a little. “There are some things I cannot allow, and my brother making a fucking kid go on a quest alone is of them. I can’t stop you, but I can help.”

Zeus snorted, and stepped forward impatiently. “Well then. If you’re finished.” I snarled at him but stepped behind Mel. They started a little, shifting to the side. Zeus held out his hand - no longer aged. “You accept this quest, to find the god-killer and stop them, at all costs and with great danger?”

“I, uh. I do.” Mel clasped his hand. 

A small bolt of lightning ignited across their hand. They yelped, though I knew it hadn’t burned them. They jerked their hand away, and I saw the branching mark across their palm. 

The hero’s mark, they used to call it. When heroes were alive and Gods still ruled.

#writing #badger scribbles #wip wednesday game #writeblr #wip wednesday #writing games #the elysium

[a-bang-for-your-bucky]

Welcome Home (Part One)

(NOT MY GIF)

Summary: After not speaking to her brothers for over a year, Peyton Rhodes’ life is turned upside down when her boyfriend of four years cheats on her. She uproots her life with WWE and returns home to Atlanta. She finds herself among great friends and she is finding herself again after being lost for so long.

WORD COUNT: 2,624 (well shit). 

Pairings: Cody Rhodes x OFC (Sister), Brandi Rhodes x OFC (sister), Dustin Rhodes x OFC (Sister), past Seth Rollins x OFC, future Kenny Omega x OFC (maybe?), MJFx OFC( maybe?) Could end up being Matt Jackson x OFC (who knows) let the writing gods surprise us.

WARNINGS: explicit language, mentioned cheating, possible future smut (Warnings are subject to change as I continue writing and will be updated as needed).

A/N: This has been a WIP for over a year now. This will be multiple parts. It will be a slow burn. (MAYBE) I’m a sucker for the friends to lovers trope. Please do not think that this reflects my feels toward a certain wrestler (Seth). This story is strictly fiction. I do not own any of the characters except for my OFC(s). Please, please, please, give me feedback. I’m slowly working myself back into the fanfic world. <3

“Cody was right.” I cried as soon as my brother’s wife answered the phone. I hadn’t spoken to my brothers since they left WWE. Cody was upset that I wouldn’t leave with him. Brandi was my way of communication with them. She’d call at least twice a week. This week was different. 

“I caught him. I went to congratulate him after his win over Finn and they were,” I sniffled, hurt coming over me again. “It was Mandy. I thought she was my friend.” I explained to my sister in law.

“Pey, I am so sorry. Please come home. You know AEW has a spot for you whenever you want it.” Brandi offered. It was the same thing she said to me every week, but now I’m ready. 

“I just don’t know why.” I cried. “I was the perfect girlfriend. I basically put my career on hold for him. I thought he was, I thought he was it for me.” Brandi had said that they were going to be home for Cody’s birthday in a few weeks and invited me to come to the party. 

“I’ll talk to Hunter.” I choked out. 

Luckily, my contract was almost up and as soon as Vince heard I didn’t want to re-sign, he settled for my release. We didn’t have the best relationship, but Hunter advocated for me stating that it was best for the company as well as myself. He knew the situation and didn’t blame me for wanting to go.

I knew I had to go back one day. I just never thought it would be this soon. I parked my car in the drive. I could hear Pharaoh announcing my arrival before I could make it to the door. I made my way up the sidewalk to the porch. I took a deep breath and knocked. 

Brandi opened the door immediately. “Well I'll be damned.” She said, “I can’t believe you came!” I smiled, embracing my brother’s wife. 

“Like I would miss my big brother’s 35th birthday.” I lied and she knew it. If Seth hadn’t cheated on me, I wouldn’t be here. 

Brandi led me inside where there were some guests who had gathered in the foyer. Brandi introduced me quickly, leading me through to Cody. “Hey, babe. Your surprise is here.” Cody, who was standing by the fireplace, talking to Dustin, turned and saw me. 

Awkwardly, I raised a hand to wave. “Hi.” I whispered. Cody sat down his drink and walked over to me. I expected him to cuss and yell, but instead, he threw his arms around me, hugging me tightly. 

“Peyton, I'm so happy you’re here.” He whispered. Dustin came up behind him. 

“Long time, no see sis. You know, they invented this thing called a phone. You should look into it. Call your big brothers sometime.” Dustin fussed before hugging me too. 

“It is really good to see you guys.” I tried to hold back the tears, but some escaped anyway. “How have you been? AEW has really taken off huh?” I said making small talk.

Cody nodded, “Yeah, I have the best business partners. I can’t wait for you to meet them.” Looking at my brother, he was truly happy. WWE had given him a few more stress lines, but seeing him now, you couldn’t tell. 

He grabbed my hand, pulling me to follow him. He led me to Matt and Nick Jackson, standing with Kenny Omega and Adam Page. “Guys! Guys! Look who decided to show her face.” Cody beamed, smiling big. The four guys waved. 

“Finally! We get to meet the prodigal sister.” Kenny Omega spoke first. 

“Peyton, these are the guys.” Cody pointed to each of them. “Matt. Nick. Kenny. Adam.” 

“Nice to meet y’all finally. I watch your show every week. You are all very talented.” They all mumbled a “thank you” in tandem. 

The rest of the evening went by smoothly. We all sat and talked. Getting to know The Elite was amazing. It was almost as if I hadn’t been AWOL for a year and a half.  When the party was over, I was helping Brandi clean up. 

“Pey, you don’t have to help. You’re a guest.” She said, grabbing the glasses from my hands. I shook my head.

“I’m family. And family helps.” I smiled, taking the glasses back and continued to the kitchen. Cody walked in behind me with plates. 

“Hey,” he started, “Thank you for coming.” He finished, placing the plates in the dishwasher. I added my glasses. 

“I’m sorry.” I blurted out, turning to face him. Cody looked at me, confused. “I should have left with you. You were right about that place. My career, my relationship, everything, became a shitshow after you left.” tears began to fall. 

“Pey, it’s okay. I’m just happy you’re here now.” Cody wiped the tears away. 

“Code. I lost my title. Seth cheated on me, and I barely got any TV time.” Cody scoffed. He never liked Seth.

“He cheated on you?” Cody growled, and paced around the room. 

I nodded, “I caught him. I went to congratulate him after his win one night and they were,” I sniffled, explaining to Cody. “I don’t know why.” I cried. “And then I lost my title, and then stopped getting TV time, unless I was on Seth’s arm.” I darted my eyes to the ground. “We still had to work together. After everything, I had to pretend like we were the perfect couple, until my last appearance.” Cody pulled me into a tight hug. 

“I pissed a lot of people off with the way I left. I’m so sorry that affected you.” he whispered into my hair, like it was his fault. 

“I don’t blame you, Code. I was granted my release.” I mumbled into his chest. He pulled back. 

“What?” His eyes were wide. 

“I asked for my release and Hunter pushed it through. I’ll be a free agent in 90 days” I explained. Cody smiled like a Cheshire cat.  

“Babe! Dustin! Get in here!” Cody yelled, startling me. The both of them came running, looking for an emergency, but they only saw Cody pouring champagne for a toast. Confused looks covered their faces. 

Cody gave everyone a flute and started a toast. “To our baby sister, the newest AEW superstar.” Brandi squealed and hugged me tight. The guys joined in. 

I was finally home. 

It was hard, walking away from my life in WWE; However, finding my place within the Elite was easy. Especially with Kenny Omega. He quickly became one of my closest friends. The next 3 months were the best of my life. The break from wrestling gave my body and my heart time to heal. Everyone did their best to hide that I was coming to AEW, even leaving fake trails that I was going back to NJPW.

After working out the details of my contract, I was officially signed with AEW. Cody wanted me to make a surprise entrance, interrupt one of his segments. Creative loved the idea of brother and sister reuniting, but they wanted to make it interesting. When my debut date came, I couldn’t have been any more nervous.

Sitting in catering, I was alone, lost in thought, picking at my food. It had been a long journey here, but they made it. AEW came to life and it was thriving. Double or nothing had passed, and that meant tonight was Dynamite.

“Guess who?” Someone had snuck up on me, covering my eyes. I smiled because I knew exactly who it was.

“Hmm, Prince Charming?” I guessed quickly. Kenny placed a sloppy kiss to my cheek.

“Close, but better.” He said uncovering my eyes. “Hey, princess. Just thought I’d come save you from your thoughts. What’s going on in that head of yours right now?” he asked, knowing I’ll tell him, taking the seat next to me. 

I sighed, rubbing my face. “I was thinking about my journey, how I got here.” Kenny nodded, but didn’t say anything. “I was thinking about how I get to see Jon again, since leaving WWE, and I was thinking about Seth.” I finally spit it out. Seth, his name leaving a bad taste in my mouth.

“I knew something was bothering you. Talk to me, doll.”

“I was scrolling through Insta earlier. He’s engaged. I know I shouldn’t care, but I do. Not because I still have feelings for him, but because she is, was, my friend, and I don’t want him to do to her what he did to me.” I explained to him.

“That’s understandable, Pey, but people gotta make their own mistakes. Mandy knows what he did to you and she still said yes, so that’s on her.” Kenny said, ever the voice of reason.

I nodded in agreement with him, knowing he was right. I needed to focus on my new path, my new future.

“Peyton!” Cody called from a distance, Brandi following him. It was time.

Cody stood, center ring, proudly. He had won the TNT title at Double or Nothing. He went on about how he was issuing an open challenge every Wednesday.

I stood nervously behind the curtain, waiting for my cue. I was about to make my debut. My life has been a little crazy since I left WWE behind, but definitely for the better. 

As an avid Fall Out Boy fan, I had struck a deal to have my favorite song as my entrance music. I had been using it for most of my career. The music hit, the crowd went crazy. “Holy Hell, that music can only mean one person. The sister of the American Nightmare. That’s Peyton Rhodes!” JR yelled into his mic as I strolled down the ramp, ignoring the crowd. “Peyton” chants filled the arena as I made my way to the squared circle. 

“Peyton Rhodes has joined  AEW and the crowd couldn’t be happier,” Excalibur added. I walked around the ring to the time keeper, grabbing a mic from Justin, and strolled on toward the ring. 

The music cut, and Cody was first to speak. "Oh yeah. I guess we didn't announce this but Peyton Rhodes is AEW!" The crowd screamed at Cody's news, chanting "AEW". 

I soaked in the cheers because I knew it was all about to change. I had been a face for most of my pro-wrestling career, and now I finally get to pursue the heel turn my fans had been begging for. I took in a deep breath and adjusted my leather jacket. 

“Oh, Atlanta, shut the hell up!” I groaned into the mic. I revelled in the audible gasp that could be heard. “That’s right. No more sweet ‘Georgia peach’ Peyton Rhodes. I came to AEW to raise hell, and that’s what I’m going to do.” I wandered around the ring, stopping in front of a camera. “I’m sick and tired of wanting your approval. I’m here to get what I want. And I want it all.” I punctuated as I looked dead into the camera.

“Hear that big brother,” I turned and faced Cody, “Hell just arrived in AEW I hope you’re ready.” I gestured to the crowd, “I hope you’re all ready, because if you thought Cody was a nightmare, wait til you see me, the Dream Killer.” I dropped the mic, and rolled out of the ring. The crowd loved it. “Dream Killer” chants echoed in my ears all the way backstage. 

I was greeted by Dustin, Brandi, and Kenny. “That was perfect, Pey, they loved it.” Kenny said as soon as I was in sight. I grinned, running up to him, jumping into his arms for a hug. 

“The crowd loved you. They’ve been hoping for this heel turn since your WWE debut.” Cody said, smiling from ear to ear as he returned to the back after finishing his promo.

“For real, Pey! You pull off the ‘heel’ thing. I can’t wait to work on your wardrobe!” Brandi squealed, embracing me in a dancing hug. “Just think about the shoes, Pey, the shoes.” Brandi was way more excited about the outfits than the actual turn. She had helped me pick the one I was wearing. Black jean shorts, a front-zip black and white crop top, leather jacket, and black boots. 

“I can’t wait to see where this takes me.” I said before we were joined by the rest of The Elite.  

Nick was the first to speak. “Not bad, Rhodes. You might be a better heel than your brother here.” He elbowed Cody in the ribs.

Matt nodded in agreement, “For real Peyton, the crowd was so hyped for that turn.” He said with a soft smile, bringing me in for a quick hug. 

I turned to face everyone. “Thanks guys. All of you. You gave me this chance.” I thanked them, “I promise I won’t let you down.” 

“You’re a great addition to the AEW family.” Adam complimented, “Come on Ken, we got a match to get ready for.” he said before walking away. Kenny gave me one last hug before following him.

Cody and Brandi also parted as she had a segment coming up, leaving me with the Young Bucks. “Come on, Pey, lets celebrate!” We had walked back to catering where some more of the AEW stars were waiting. In the back, I spotted the one person I couldn’t wait to see again. I told The Bucks I’d catch up with them. 

“Jon!” I screamed, almost running to him. When he saw me rushing toward him, he opened his arms, inviting me in for a hug. Hugging him was a blast from the past. 

“Peyton fucking Rhodes. I heard rumors you were coming. Sweetheart, you knocked them dead.” He spoke into my hair. I gave him one more tight squeeze before pulling away. “Well, you look great.” He said, gesturing to my outfit. 

“I’m heel now. Finally.” I boasted. I’ve been waiting for this for the longest time and no one was taking it away from me. Jon and I talked, catching up. I asked about Renee and he lit up. He was happy and that’s all I wanted for him. He was finally able to be the fighting champion everyone knew he could be. 

“What about Seth? What happened? The last time I spoke to him, he said you guys were happy and he had bought a ring.” Jon asked, and it knocked the breath out of me. I knew he would ask, but I wasn’t expecting him to mention a ring. 

“He cheated on me. With Mandy. They’re engaged now.” I said without choking up, which was a good sign. I could see the disappointment well up in Jon’s eyes. 

“You were always too good for him.” I knew he and Seth were still good friends, but I appreciated the words nonetheless. Jon gave me one last hug before he got called away for his match, leaving me alone in catering again. 

I found a table close to a TV so I could watch the end of Kenny and Adam’s match. They were well on their way to becoming tag team champions. I started thinking about what Jon had said about Seth, about him buying a ring. I couldn’t believe it. He was going to ask me to marry him and I would have said yes, had I not found him with Mandy. I was pulled from my thoughts by my phone vibrating. It was Seth. 

I saw your debut. 

You look good. 

You’re gonna be a great heel.

I miss you. 

I wish you would talk to me and let me explain. 

I read and reread the messages a hundred times before replying. 

Okay, Seth. When and where?

#kenny omega imagine #Kenny Omega #kenny omega fic #cody rhodes #cody rhodes imagine #wrestling imagine #aew imagine #aew fanfiction #dustin rhodes #brandi rhodes #friends to lovers #Welcome home #kat writes #kenny omega smut #matt jackson #Nick Jackson #Adam Page #jon moxley #seth rollins #kenny omega x ofc

[kayteewritessteve]

Work-In-Progress Wednesday

Thanks for the tag @queen-kass-the-writer !

Okay, here is my current WIP, which is the 7th chapter of Beauty and the Beast. So here’s a snippet for y’all. I still have sooo much to finish in this chapter, and then this story, but I have been able to work on it a bit here and there, so that’s a step in the right direction at least! Here’s to hoping I can get this chapter done and posted soon! 🤞🏻🤞🏻🤞🏻

(Please ignore any mistakes in this, I haven’t even attempted to edit or proof it yet!)

* * *

“Are you endeavouring to break every damn item in my house or?” He growls, and for once you can hear that he is clearly frustrated. So, it looks like he can, in fact, show a few basic emotions after all, though you kinda wish he hadn’t shown any at all. You’d like to go back to aloof and disinterested beast-man right about now, as odd as that is to want. At least if he was aloof, you’d know he wasn’t entirely enraged. Because frustrated is only a step below angry, which is then only a step below pissed the fuck off. And that’s two, too many steps close to pissed the fuck off for your comfort, or nerves.

“I-I apologize, Sir,” you quickly stutter out, as sincerely as you can while the nerves and embarrassment of not only being caught dancing around like a fool, but also having broken one of his belongings directly in front of him, run wild throughout your body. “You,” you trail off not wanting to continue on with ‘startled me’, as you realized those next words would have most likely sounded like you trying to pin the blame on him. And you very much did not want to do that. At least not to his face.

“I, what?” He questions lowly, deadly, clearly trying to prompt you into inserting your own foot in your damn mouth. And ha! Joke’s on you, assface! Because while you may not be the brightest bulb in the box, you do still have a few functioning brain cells left. At least enough to know finishing that sentence at any length will not end well for you.

“Are home,” you fill in awkwardly instead, and far too loudly at that. But rather than just leaving it there, you stupidly continue on, “Welcome home, Sir. I hope your trip was fruitful.” Ugh. Fruitful? You imbecile.

“It was,” he grunts, “until I returned home to witnessed you using a 3 million dollar vase as a fake microphone.” He pauses, probably to allow you a moment to let what he just said sink in. And once it does, you gasp quietly, because—3 million fucking dollars?! Why the hell would anyone leave a 3 million dollar freaking vase just laying around where idiots—you, you’re the idiot—could easily shatter it by accident!? “A vase you then promptly destroyed,” he adds in gruffly, as if you hadn’t already fucking realized this. And freaking thanks for that one, Tips! Uuuugh.

* * *

Tagging: WHOEVER WANTS TO DO THIS, JUST DOOO IT! And say I tagged you, I’ll pretend like I did and no one will be the wiser! 🙋🏻‍♀️🤣

#wip wednesday #work in progress #work in progress wednesday #beauty and the beast #snippet #chapter 7 #beauty and the beast au #mobster au #steve rogers au #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female!reader #female!reader #mobster!steve rogers #marvel au

[from-ib-to-asshai]

WIP WEDNESDAY- I see you down on your knees

Arya should like to imagine that Frey blood is different then other blood. Maybe that the smell is more putrid, or that the liquid more viscous. Perhaps even a different color; more brown. Dirty blood would be fitting for such a dirty, rotten family.

But this isn’t the case. Despite all odds, the blood of the Frey men is almost lovely; she doesn’t clean the blood out from under her fingernails for weeks in a futile hope to keep it there forever. It’s color seemed so bright in the candlelight of the Twins’ kitchen, runny and red like the wine she’d serve to the other family members later on. It was almost indescribable how it felt to watch it.

It was meant for her, she realized. Arya was meant to bleed men like them just like the sun was meant to rise in the east. It was destiny.

At night sometimes, Arya would shake with anticipation at the thought of Cersei Lannister’s blood. Would it be just as wonderful? Even more so? The expression on Cersei’s face would be of no matter to her because all that matters was her blood, because blood was her life force and Arya would weep with joy to have the chance to rip her life out of her, Needle forgotten at her side as she would instead dig it all out with her bare hands, the squelching sounds of flesh and muscle and blood combined with the cracking of bones would-

Oh. She’s getting ahead of herself again, isn’t she. 

Sansa stares at her from across the table, obviously still waiting for an answer.

“I’ve been around,” she said, “Surviving. Training. Hiding.” She shrugged. “Nothing worth mentioning.” If Arya hadn’t been trained so well, she would've missed the almost imperceptible narrowing of her sisters eyes.

“I see.”

A pause.

“What about you?”

There was another pause, and Arya saw something in Sansa’s demeanor change - not for the better. On guard. Jaqen would have hit her for her mistake; Now Sansa either thought she was mocking her, since wherever she had been was obviously public knowledge, or her sister now knows that she’d spent the last years out of Westeros.

Jaqen would have hit her for it, the Waif would have beat her for it, Sansa now distrusts her for it. Arya just cursed herself for it instead.

“Lord Baelish got me out of King’s Landing,” the redhead began smoothly, ringing her hands together on her lap, “I was hidden in the Vale for a while(...)”

The silence between them was neither pleasant nor unpleasant, but simply a reminder that they were essentially strangers, weren’t they, after so many years apart. Sansa was beautiful, sitting on the simple wooden chair as if it were a throne, back straight, hands folded and head held evenly as not to disturb the non-existent crown that rested upon it. Her red hair neatly braided and her face illuminated by the low fire, her displeased expression was identical to the one she’d given Arya almost every day growing up. This realization stopped her in her tracks. 

She tilted her head. No, it couldn´t be. Couldn´t it? They wouldn't have sent someone to Winterfell this fast, they couldn't have. Oh, but they could have. They could have gotten to Winterfell in the time she was in The Twins, they could have taken it over, they could have taken her sister's face. 

They had reasons too.

The House had reasons to be angry with Arya Stark, and they had the resources to tear her down, to kill her. All the shattered promises, all the ignored oaths, all the broken rules. But why? Revenge? That wasn’t their style, really; hadn’t that been the whole point? The lesson that Jaqen H’Ghar had tried to teach her, that The Waif had tried to beat into her?

We never give the gift to please ourselves. Nor do we choose the ones we kill. We are but servants of the God of Many Faces…

A lesson. That would be a motive. That would be a reason to kill and impersonate Sansa Stark. Maybe they needed more servants for the god then she’d thought. Maybe they wanted her back. Maybe-

The door creaks open. 

She flinches, instinctively tracing the outline of the hidden knife beneath the sleeve of her tunic with her hand. The door opens too slow for it to be an attacker, the footsteps too loud for an assassin, she knows -- but flinches anyway.

Petyr Baelish looks different then from when she last saw him. Perhaps older, perhaps more weary.The last time she had seen him had been years ago after all,  No, thats not it; he looks smaller, almost like a small child dwarfed by the thick winter furs he has to wear to stay warm.

Littlefinger isn’t made for winter, she realizes. A small grin briefly twists itself over her face. His beady little eyes fixed onto her and he smiled tightly, bowing deeply in their direction. 

“My Lady Arya. It truly is wonderful to see you,” he said, taking a seat by Sansa, “When was the last time I saw you -- four, five years ago?” He says it like he doesn’t exactly know how long, which of course is a lie, seeing what kind of person Petyr Baelish is. “You were naught but a child then. I am delighted to see you have grown into a beautiful young lady, and are safely back in Winterfell.”

Are you? She thinks to herself. Outloud she says, “Yes.” 

The simple reply throws Baelish off, and he awkwardly readjusts himself in his seat. 

“You simply must tell me about what you’ve been doing all these years. No one has heard from you in years.” He trying to play with her, she knows, but she is not interested in playing his game. He is far more interested in him playing hers. The smile she wears in small and light, weightless and nonchalant. She needs to make Baelish believe she thinks she’s smarter than she is. Not to trick him later; no, like she says, she has little interest in the game of thrones. No, she needs both him and Sansa to believe she had no capabilities to kill him, that she was too dumb to try. 

She shrugs. “Same could be said for you My Lord. I hear one moment you’re working for the Lannisters, next you’re marrying into House Arryn, only to move on to the Boltons. All quite conflicting reports, really.” Her voice is soft and dispassionate. “I was hoping, that as I tell you of my travels, I’d be able to hear about yours more. Oh, you know how the smallfolk speak -- all rumors and claims -- one can never really know the truth.”

“No,” Littlefinger replied, “One truly can’t. I-”

“So I must wonder, Lord Baelish, where your loyalties really lay.”

“My loyalties are solely with your sister and House Stark, my Lady,” he said smoothly, “Any mishaps or conflicts in my actions were purely to survive and to get your family back home.” Sansa stiffened slightly beside him but said nothing.

“As Lady Sansa can surely attest to, the Vale’s armies played an important part in defeating the Boltons and securing Winterfell. The Vale has sacrificed many a moon and many a man to get us where we are today. So if my word itself isn’t enough to make you not distrust me My Lady, then at least trust my actions.” He bowed his head to her with a smile, his hand on his chest.

It took her a moment to riffle through his words to actually gain some meaning from them; Littlefinger spoke fast and spoke many words whilst saying little. But aside from the acknowledgement that his loyalties to Sansa meant more to him then any other, and the mention of how indebted the North was to the Arryns, there wasn’t much behind his words.

She’d expected more from Lord Baelish after all she’d heard. Or maybe it was on purpose - perhaps he didn’t think she-

“Of course, you should know best that I can be trusted -- After all, I never revealed your secret to anyone, all those years ago.”

Ah. There it is.

Sansa’s sharp, icy gaze pierced through her. She didn’t even have to look over to see the question burning in those pale eyes. Baelish grinned wider.

“Harrenhal was such a terrible place, wasn’t it. I can’t imagine what it must have been there -- especially under Tywin Lannister.” Arya felt herself grinding her teeth together. “I just hope you managed to get out of there before before the Mountain took over,” he continued, “But it surely would have been hard to escape unnoticed -- especially being Tywin’s personal cupbearer.”

And there it was. The kick she’d been expecting. 

Thick tension filled the room as silence took over. Baelish’s smile waned slightly, unnerved by the quiet. He’d surely been expecting some sort of revoke from her, a hurried defense, a glim of anger; even just a startled look. 

But Arya Stark did not bend to the whims of men.

Sansa's dry voice broke the moment.

“Lord Baelish, you must excuse us. It seems my sister and I have much to discuss.”

The man stood and bowed, obviously pleased with his work, and left, footsteps loud and they echoey as he descended down the hall.

“You haven’t even been here half a day and he’s already trying to cause distrust between us.” Arya looked over, surprised. Now this she hadn’t been expecting. Sansa leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples and sighing. She caught her younger sisters inquisitive gaze and smiled faintly.

“He loves doing things like this,” the redhead murmured, tracing her finger along the wood of the table, “Trying to tear families apart, causing chaos wherever he steps foot,” she huffs. “I do understand why, I am easier to manipulate when alone. That doesn’t mean he’s any less despicable.”

Arya blinked. Sansa leaned over to her, laying her hand close to hers, close enough to feel the warmth without direct touch. She appreciated that, in a strange way.

“Why don’t you just...send him away?” Sansa smiles again, and Arya thinks it’s somewhere between patronizing and affectionate. Her younger self would have gotten at the gesture, but the last time anyone had looked at her with any kind of real affection had been years ago, so she didn’t even mind getting talked down too -- For all she’d been taught in Bravos, the House had not cared to teach her about Westerosi politics. 

“Because we need the Vale’s army. We can’t afford to lose their alliance because, while Lord Royce cares little for him, if our dearest cousin hears that his lord regent and surrogate father is killed on flimsy claims of conspiracy and treason ...” Sansa paused, looking out the window. The bright grey light reflected on her blue eyes. Arya realizes, then, that she hadn’t suggested to murder him, only to remove him from Winterfell. 

No, she realizes then. This was not a faceless man trying to trick by using the face of her sister.  The amount of fury in her face, etched into the curve of her gentle smile, sparkling in her kind eyes, evident in every small nod and calm word - this is not the way of a faceless man. The subtlety of the anger, no - they would try to  be much more obvious.They would not try to conceal their resentment as effectively as Sansa did.

Arya felt a twinge of pride at that, unable to imagine how the elder Stark had become this good of a liar -- what had caused it.

Satisfied with her discoveries, she excused herself, venturing out into the old, dusty, grey halls that she had once called her home. The dark stains, the crumbling corners, the burn marks on the tapestries and the nervous maids that have quick, hurried direwolves stitched into their overcoats to distract from the pinks and reds of their skirts that they are too poor to replace.

#yeah i aint ever gonna finish this #but i did like writing this part #title is taken from son luxs You Dont Know Me #Arya Stark #house stark #Sansa Stark #peter baelish #littlefinger #wip #wip wednesday #ASoIaF #A Song of Ice and Fire #got #game of thrones #implied vague arya x jaqen #the faceless men #the house of black and white #game of thrones season 7

[drakewalkerfantasy]

WIP Wednesday (Ethan x MC)

I just wanted to check if anyone is interested to be tagged. I didn't write for Ethan for awhile. Please leave your feedbacks. I really would appreciate it. I will tag some OH (Ethan x MC) writers also to get some feedback. If you want you can DM me them :) but no pressure. So here it goes Snippets from chapter 11 rewrite. I still very far from ending it. 

Warning: This is AU where Beckett Harrington is MC's best friend and also surgical intern/resident.

So below goes two snippets for Ethan x MC, Chapter 11 rewrite. Will tag in reblog as tumblr doesn't work for me.

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For a moment she closed her eyes, taking a couple of deep breaths. Her mind involunterily going to her best friend remembering the technique he once taught her. The memory too painful to hold back tears. And her teeth dug even deeper into her lower lip cutting through the soft delicate skin. It took everything in her to try and suppress the soft sobs from escaping her throat, when she heard his voice ringing clearly in her head.

“Zeroing in, push everything out of your mind, concentrate on something that is important and dear to you. What will hold you in a moment. Will calm you.”

His voice calming her, steadying her breathes. Her eyes are closed, and she easily followed the steps, pushing everything out except of what was important and dear to her. Beckett's voice inside her head flowed effortlessly, bringing her to the happiest moments of her childhood. The freckled face of the boy next door appeared in front of her eyes. The one who encouraged her and supported even through every stupid mistake she made. Who was there for her every time she fall down only to help her to get up. Who never told her “I told you so” even when she deserved it. And the one who was there for her when her heart was broken over and over by the man she loved.

The man she loved... Diana whispered, her voice just barely audible. Her eyes flew open looking back at the window, watching Ethan already on the phone giving orders. His strides abrupt, his hand racking nervously through his thick hair, and his shoulders sunk as if heavy weight of the world was placed on them.

Her mind focusing on him, remembering and holding onto memories that they made together. Memories that were priceless to her, memories that she would never want to forget, no matter how painful or happy they were. Her eyes closing, taking a steadying breathe.

The first memory is the first night they spend together... Just two of them in the hotel’s shower, when their eyes met for the first time. The wolffish grey meeting ocean blues. Their fingers intertwined and her name leaving his lips like a prayer, joined by his just a second later with a moan.

Another memory rolled over her and another meeting only five years later in a hospital’s hall marked the day when they reappeared suddenly in each other lives. The day when they got drawn once again into the whirlpool of feelings they once felt and never were able to forget no matter how hard they tried to drown them away...

The first code blue... Donahue’s... Baseball game... The coffee house... The supply closet and her panick attack... Dolores... All of that was the beginning of something new... something that was leading them to the final step Miami, to the moment when their lives would be divided forever on before and after the way they would never expect it to happen...

The child of surprise... their little bean that was conceived the first night in Miami when they finally stopped resisting... when they finally were ready to turn the page in their lives and move forward not afraid anymore and more than willing to take the leap... the day she found out she was pregnant was the scariest day in her life, but the day she dumped the news on Ethan became the most happiest. And she was sure that nothing ever could top that... how wrong she was...

A couple of weeks later New Year's Eve came and here, just before the first bells rang and the first burst of fireworks lit up the night sky, under the whirling snowflakes, he proposed. The promise of forever and more... the happiest memory that should be her happily ever after with the man she loved... with the man who loved her.

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“Ethan...,” tried Beckett, watching how Ethan’s eyes becoming misty and his body shaking almost failing apart in front of everyone. He felt how his own brain started to buzz, and he looked at the patient in front of him. The patient Diana insisted of taking because she believed in him... the patient those chest was already wide open.

“She will need you,” said Ethan finally able to put himself together, watching how conflicted emotions ran through young resident’s face. “She will want you there,” chocked he, while Beckett tried to steady his hand and cut into patient’s ruined lung. A dark trickle of blood filled the cavity.

“Crap! Suction,” exclaimed Beckett, watching how his intern acted quickly before looking at him questioningly.

"Beckett ... are you okay down there?" Ines’s kind voice crackled through intercom, and he knew that it was pointless to deny what everyone already knew. The fact that he wasn’t okay clearly imprinted in his features, when he shook his head not trusting himself to speak. The usually rational voice inside his head now was silent, and he was so worried for Diana, that he was ready to run out of the operation room the second he knew that something was wrong.

“Yes... no... Dammit...,” cursed Beckett. His hand squeezing the scalpel firmer, trying to ignore the painful twist in his heart when he thought about Diana out there probably fighting for her own life, when he tries to safe someone else’s... failing her ones again. He could feel the guilt taking over him, but he could do nothing about that as nobody else in Edenbrook had any experience with this surgery except him and Dr. Tanaka. So no matter how much he wanted to be there for both Diana and Ethan, he couldn’t. And it was the hardest decision he ever made, and the one he probably would regret.

#open heart #open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan ramsey fanfiction

[tsuraiwrites]

WIP Wednesday

tagged by the awesome @hollyand-writes​, please enjoy a snippet of the first chapter of my dragon age timetraveler!hawke fic.

if you are interested in sharing, consider yourself tagged by me!

cw for limb loss, canon-typical blood

-

“You don't think anything you did actually mattered, did you?” 

He sloshes through ankle-deep brackish water, eyes always flickering upwards. He is a boat drifting with no anchor, only cold comfort in the lack of a Rift – guaranteeing Inquisitor Lavellan and Loghain are safe on the other side of the Veil.

For lack of a better option, he picks his way towards the Black City, the dark shape of it fixed in the sky no matter how much terrain he crosses. Even if he wasn’t bleeding out, Hawke could walk a thousand years and never reach it, but that thought just spurs him on. 

He wonders how many people Corypheus bled to ascend to those towers. Would the blood sacrifice of just one mage count for anything?

Desire and Rage hovering at the corner of his eye, attracted by his dark thoughts. Hawke bares his teeth, daring them, and spits in disgust when they turn away; he defeated Nightmare, and none are brave enough to take their chances, yet.

Or maybe he’s just telling himself that – he’s always been good at putting on a brave face even through exhaustion and blood loss. It’s just that he has no one else to put on that face for, now. 

There’s his missing limb, still lying somewhere back in the Nightmare’s domain – the space it used to occupy a glaring weakness he doesn’t doubt the demons can see. 

It’s gone, fuck, I’ll never fight with a staff again–

If he was anyone else, the pain would have him immobile. 

But he can’t stay put, can’t let himself falter, not when there are the mirrors, periodically dotting the barren landscape; dark things that do not show his face when he passes. Eluvian, his mind hisses, harkening back to the mirror that cost Merrill her entire clan.

No, that’s not fair, it was Hawke who couldn’t find the right words to keep them from deciding to attack…

In his distraction, Hawke can't help but look at what mirrors keep trying to show him. 

The first one taunts him with a view of Skyhold in ruin, Inquisition flags aflame and Archdemon nesting atop one of the towers. He hobbles past it without a second glance.

The second he passes is harder: Varric bent over a desk in a dark room, his head in his hands with drying letters scattered across the surface. The mirror ripples, and the next moment he gets a flash of Carver, his brother’s face crumpling as a letter drops from his hands. Though Hawke cannot hear him shout through the glass, the look of pure grief and rage on Carver’s face makes everything in him ache. 

“Carver-” he croaks, then stops, because this is the Fade and there’s no way what the eluvian is showing him is real. And even if Hawke shouts, it’s not as if his brother will hear him. 

Will ever hear him again.

The thought is enough to wrench him away from the cursed thing, the pain over his chest and stomach flaring as he staggers away, though he’s not quick enough not to catch a glimpse of white hair, a feathered pauldron out of the corner of his eye.

Away. I've got to get out of this wretched place. He doesn’t want to watch his friends receive word of his death. The words run circles in his head as he turns. Away, away, away–

This is his first mistake. The Fade is molded by wants and expectations and pure will, and his is the strongest around with the Nightmare gone. 

Hawke turns, desperate to leave vicinity, only to almost smack into a stone pillar as the scenery changes – graceful columns of stone soar into the sky, followed by tiles spreading out from under Hawke’s feet. The water disappears rapidly, sucking at his boots and making him stumble. He flails to catch his balance, and by the time Hawke looks up again a temple has built itself around him. 

It’s grand, but decrepit. Vines climb everything in sight. The ceiling doesn’t quite join together, enough stones floating loose at the top to provide a gap through which the Black City can be glimpsed. 

And all around him is row after row of mirrors – eluvians, all lined up until their number crowds against the crumbling stone walls. Many of the frames are empty, covered by vines or moss – some simply filled with dark, shattered glass. 

A few are whole and glowing, already flickering with images he’d rather not see. Tired, and aware of just how much of a vulnerable target he is, Hawke closes his eyes against the sight.

Considering the blood loss, it’s a miracle he’s still standing. 

“My, my,” says a voice that Hawke hasn’t heard in a decade but still knows by heart. “It’s been quite some time since the eluvians were so responsive.” 

“Flemeth,” Hawke acknowledges flatly, trying to wrap his mind around the Witch’s presence, and starts to turn. His boot catches on a broken tile and he staggers, dropping the pieces of his staff. Firm hands catch him by the shoulders, small but inhumanly strong. Despite all sense he clutches the Witch of the Wilds back, trying to ignore the voice in the back of his head starting to chant away, you need to get away again.

“Champion, you are in rough shape. All those years with a healer didn’t teach you any of the skill, I see.”

#fic #dragon age #wip wednesday #time travel #garrett hawke

[msjr0119]

Sneak Peek Sunday

Thanks for the tags @loveellamae and @glaimtruelovealways

As I did a long ass WIP Wednesday I haven’t got much to share as I’m still catching up on reading- SORRY GUYS 🥺

Below is a short snippet from “An American Adventure”.. please ignore any spelling mistakes etc 😊

Warnings: Swearing, slight smut.

What you working on? @pedudley @kacie-0156 @cordonianroyalty @annekebbphotography @ravenpuff02

Tags of people who maybe interested: @kingliam2019 @princessleac1 @sanchita012 @bascmve01 @kimmiedoo5

****

After the unsuccessful first dinner, everyone was still getting used to their first day of camp. Olivia and Madeleine sat near Liam in their own little friendship circle. Both women were moaning already, much to Liam’s annoyance. Maxwell had decided to make friends with everyone and anyone that he came in contact with.

Andy noticed that Drake was sat on his own, focusing on making s’mores - gazing up to the stars. In a trance.

“Excuse me? Are you okay?”

“Erm, yeah.. I’m fine. Thank you.” Andy knew that most people felt homesick at camp, that the first few days were the hardest. “My father died three years ago- these were the type of things we did as a family on his days off.” Drake confessed, as he focused on to the fire. Flashes of his father entered his mind. The memories.

“I’m so sorry. If you need anyone to talk to, my daughter and her friends are here to support you all. I can get her for you if you want?”

“I’m fine, I already have friends. Thank you.” The older man ignored Drake’s persistent attitude about being ‘fine’. Masking his true feelings. Scrutinising the area, he spotted his daughter being pestered by Nate Cooper. God, I hate that kid. He thought to himself. He feared for his daughter- Nate had some kind of obsession with Riley. An unhealthy obsession.

“Ri, may I have a private word please?”

“Sure. What’s up?” Andy explained about Drake, he knew that it wasn’t his responsibility to interfere but he cared about his campers as if they were family.

“I know what to do, I’ll take him somewhere.”

........

“Hey, how are you settling in?” Sitting next to him, she retrieved a stick from the packaging and pierced some marshmallows on to it. Turning the stick slightly every so often- she waited for him to elaborate, instead he didn’t know what to say.

“Why aren’t you sat with your friends?” Riley questioned. Even though she was fully aware, due to her father informing her, she wouldn’t mention about Drakes father until Drake was comfortable to tell her himself.

“They are doing my head in already... apart from Liam. But he’s too nice to tell them to shut the fuck up.” Regretting saying ‘fuck up’ the moment those words came out of his mouth- he blushed as she held his arm and laughed.

“So my marshmallows are done. Do you fancy going for a walk?”

“Where to?”

“The lake? Or we could walk in the woods- look for ghosts...” impersonating a ghoul she knew that she looked an idiot, but seeing a smile creep up on to his face she was pleased with herself. Step one, complete.

.....

Deciding to go to the lake, Drake selfishly chose this option- he wanted to check it out, to see what activities took place here. In the back of his mind he was hoping that they had the opportunity to fish. Jackson’s favourite hobby.

“I love it here, especially at night time. It’s so peaceful.” Riley stood at the edge of banking, looking off into the distance.

“Yeah, it is...” Drake couldn’t help but be hypnotised by her. She was nice. She was funny. She asked about him. She was beautiful. Drake could feel butterflies in his stomach every time she looked at him, every time she spoke.

“Ever been swimming in a lake at night?”

“No, it’s a bit dangerous. Don’t you think?”

“We do it all the time. You’re in America now. Be a bit daring.”

“Haven’t got any swimwear.” Good excuse.

“No problem...” Stripping off yet still wearing her underwear, she ran off into the lake. Drake couldn’t believe what she had done. Debating whether or not to join her.

“Come on! It’s warm...” She will somehow force me in anyway, what am I doing?

Taking his clothes off, he ambled towards the lake- dipping his toes in he soon realised that she was lying about the temperature. Eventually he joined her, as the tread the water- they became comfortable in each other’s company. They both spoke about their families, their childhoods, their friends. Drake nearly slipped up a few times about the truth.

“Are you feeling a bit better now?”

“Yeah, thanks to you.”

“Don’t mention it, it’s good to have some new faces here.” Closing the distance between them, his eyes widened. Not knowing why she was doing this. Wrapping her arms around him, she gave him a tight squeeze- whispering in his ear explaining to find any of them if he wanted some time away from the crowd. Resting her head on his shoulder, they stayed in that position. Not knowing where to place his hands, natural instinct led them around her waist. Riley turned her face so it was facing his. The closeness between the two of them, made them both forget the coldness of the water- they both felt warmer with each other’s brief touches. The water ran down her face from her damp hair- as they both stared at each other with lust, desire and curiosity. Leaning closer, they both closed their eyes- before their lips met.

#choices trr #trr fanfic #drake x riley #drake walker #riley brooks #sneak peek sunday #theroyalromance #tw swearing #tw slight smut

[ecoamerica]

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[eirian-houpe]

Working Wednesday

Here is the state of my current WIPs with July’s Camp Nano picking up steam. As before, my main camp fic will be The Library Beneath the Clock Tower, I also have a project I need to get finished for July, and those two are taking priority.

The Library Beneath the Clock Tower: AU Cursed Storybrooke. (Inspried by/based on The Bookshop on the Corner: A Novel, by Jenny Colgan)

Storybrooke has no library, and neither does Belle, not since the library where she worked in Boston discovered her past as an inpatient at a mental hospital. Taking her future into her own hands, Belle travels to Storybrooke where her intention is to open up the town library, but all does not go according to her plan. Obstacles and false starts, and diversion along very wrong pathways interrupt her journey toward fulfilling her dream, as well as taking her rightful place and becoming a part of the Storybrooke community. -  Chapter 33/53 posted and 6 more are written ready for editing, and I’m 2,023 words into chapter 41 - an important chapter.

All Our Past Mistakes: AU Non-Cursed Storybrooke

Doctor Gold, professor of history at the local campus of Maine University, is stuck in a loveless, and one might say abusive relationship with a wife who is less than attentive to their family, and whom he suspects cares little for her marital vows. His resolve to maintain his own faithfulness is sorely tested by the presence of one of his new students - a junior by the name of Belle French - whom it seems fate is determined to put in his way. The two become embroiled in a passionate, and redemptive relationship, but not before suffering numerous setbacks and separations. This is no instantaneous happy ever after, but a tale of two hurt souls finding their way together through darkness and despair. - nothing written since last week

Disparate Pathways: AU and Remix of Witness Protection, which was written for the 2019 RSS.

Gold has a past, a past that he has rejected, but it seems one that will not let him go. Belle, daughter of Governor Maurice French has been kidnapped, along with her mother, and just as the authorities raid the organization that is holding her hostage, decides to make her own bid for freedom, unknowingly derailing an undercover sting, and Agent Milnor has not choice but to take her into ‘protective custody,’ but is he all that he seems? As the threads of the story grow more tangled and the threat to Belle, and to Gold, her appointed protector, grow ever more real, a growing, mutual attraction makes everything far more desperate and far too personal for Gold to ignore what he knows to be the truth. - Nothing written since last week.

Scattered: AU OUAT, where the curse didn’t quite happen the way it did on the show. (It went ‘wrong’)

Casting a spell, any spell - at least the ones that involve more than just the wave of a hand, or worse, the wave of an irritating fairy’s wand - takes time, and patience, and the right ingredients, and… just like any recipe, if you get it wrong, it doesn’t mean the cake won’t cook, rather then will, just with unexpected or unintended outcomes. All of Rumplestiltskin’s careful planning and manipulation, all of his hopes and dreams turn to dust; ashes in his bitter heart in the blink of an eye… in the fall of an equine heart. Belle exchanges one terrible prison for another, and it’s one she is desperate to escape, and though Rumple’s fate as The Savior was severed from him centuries ago, sometimes fate itself has a way of finding an alternate route home. - nothing written since last week

What the Actual Fuck! : Sutherelle fic

Prime Minister Robert Sutherland is feeling pressured, and isn’t prepared to acquiesce to the repeated challenges from within his cabinet nor the wider circle of those around him. He resorts to drastic measures to ascertain who can be trusted, turning to an ‘old friend’ to help him separate the wheat from the chaff. Said friend promises to send in his best operative to assist the PM, the trouble is the operative finds out more than Robert necessarily wants to know, and all this just as all hell is breaking loose around him; people hurt, Britain in chaos and multiple deaths push him into making some hard hitting decisions in order to safeguard himself, the country, and the people he cares about - Nothing written since last week.

Breathe: Rushbelle.

As the Lucian Alliance attack Icarus Base, Doctor Rush makes the decision that dialing back to Earth is too dangerous, though that may not at all be his reason for attempting to dial the ninth chevron, persuaded by Eli, and by something Belle had said to him previously, he substitues Earth for Icarus, and the connection is made. In spite of hurrying to urge Belle to the ‘Gate room and through the ‘Gate, neither he, nor anyone else believes that Belle actually made it on board Destiny…  - Part one of the We Three series. -  Nothing written since last week.

Storybrooke’s Best Kept Secret: Rumbelle, Cursed Storybrook AU

This story was created accidentally when what I had written didn’t fit for something else. in which Belle is not kept in the assylum, but in a little cottage on the very edge of Storbrook town, and few know she’s there.  Then, one day, someone else finds out. -  Nothing written since last week.

Darkness In Hyperion Heights: Woven Beauty, Mystery/Paranormal AU

One stormy morning, Detective Weaver shows up to work and finds someone waiting for him in his office.  His visitor is a scholar and a curator for the British Museum, and has recently discovered that an artefact from the vaults is missing. She has followed the trail left in the wake of its disappearence and it led her to Hyperion Heights, and now, she needs Weaver’s help - 355 words written

Modern Wonders: Well now, how to classify /this/ one?  Lets start by saying it is a crossover with OUAT and SyFy’s Mini-series, Alice. It’s kind of ‘ensemble’ and kind of ‘Mad Rumbelle/Mad Curious Archer’ sorta kinda.  This is still in the ‘mulling’ stage, and might not get anything posted for a while, because of… well… reasons! (Spoilers), but we’re working on it.

Also, I still have 2 series awaiting their next works: Darker Hearts: an AU Wish!Rumbelle, and Thoughts On A Happy Ending: A Rumblelle focussed Belle introspective of the entire journey from season 1 through season 7. Nothing has been written for either just yet, so no change since theirlast update, but they are included in the writing schedule so maybe that will change.

All published works can be found on AO3 where I write as Eilinelithil.

Please feel free to ask me questions about /anything/ you see here, or any other curiosity that enters your head - anonymous asks accepted, I’ll talk about most things if you ask. If you want to ask the characters anything, you can do that too! You can also prompt me if you wish.

#rumbelle #current wips #wips #send asks #feel free to prompt me #camp nano #camp nano july 2020 #cue loud crickets

[yes-these-obsessions-are-healthy]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Yet another one where I try desperately to make friends and tag people that don’t like me to read my work. @solas-disapproves @pikapeppa @scharoux @itsalexistrvlyn

Context: Solas ruminating on his relationship with my Lavellan. I just really love writing internal monologues instead of having my characters actually, you know, interact. (/o_o)/ 

I should also point out that my Lavellan is 24, despite Solas repeatedly referring to her as a child. When you’re 40+, everyone under 25 is a child. “Kids these days”, etc. Plus remember he considers the Dalish to be “children” across the board like an asshole.

Bracketed parts are what I’m personally debating whether to keep, or else contain text that needs to be replaced with a more appropriate equivalent.

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She kisses with innocence and an earnest desire to please. He quietly damns himself all the while, but his mind cannot help but dredge up the whisper of a memory from long ago, of similarly wide-eyed and precocious young slave girls gifted to him like furniture. In his youth he acted as much of the part of the rakish black sheep that the Evanuris required of him. [The question that still remained unanswered after all this time, however, was whether he became the character in this particularly decadent play, or if such power afforded him to simply allow such tendencies to flourish unrestrained.]

Whatever the case, it had not been an uncommon occurrence for him to offer the comforts of his bed to two, three, four women on any given night. Servants, slaves, merchants' daughters (and wives).. all eager to please, all determined to curry his favor or catch his eye in the hopes that they would receive a blessing, and what ever that implied. They tried to ply him with distractions--music, art, dance; lewd and debauched scenarios to be acted out for his amusement; as the nights wore on and the wine flowed like a river in his veins, he called for them to submit to more embarrassing requests or risk being permanently ousted from his ever-revolving circle of beautiful nymphs.

Even at his most drunk and at the highest peak of ecstasy, he never lost sight of their motives. To them, he was a meal ticket, a refuge from the painful drudgery of everyday living, a shield from yet another night of painful servitude to his more [visceral] colleagues.

He did not begrudge them: Arlathan swallowed up innocence as readily as a debutante would her first cup of red grape wine. Even the youngest and most inexperienced of his partners still possessed an idea of what to expect from him, either from rumors spread among those beyond his abode or through personal demonstration with a captivated audience.

No, no one was innocent, he had long since been taught, but its absence did not necessarily translate to knowledge. And what he instructed those girls was not wisdom as he once proudly thought, but a functioning form of shrewd cynicism. One did not deserve praise for recognizing the follies of a system they continued to benefit from, and hadn't he benefited from their desperate need for acumen? Indeed, it had always been a secret thrill of his to watch the glimmer of recognition sparkle in someone's eyes, the bittersweet understanding that, ultimately, [knowledge] held as many rewards as it did caveats.

[But as he stared down at the fidgeting ingenue beneath him, he found his heart stir alongside his loins. A crude, blasphemous combination was what he originally thought. [[I have no idea what to do here. This sentence throws off the tone of sincere love but what the fuck do I write]]] An unfortunate side effect of being interred in the Fade for countless centuries. To taste precociousness and sincerity on a person’s skin after all this time..

He was surrounded by shades who unknowingly haunted a false world. Its destruction was imminent, he had resolved that to be its ultimate fate, had accepted that his commitment to the lonely path must continue. He would live, in the loosest sense of the word, among these dead souls, but only for a short time. That was what he had told himself, and in his haste, he had extended the time in which he must dwell in this unbearable purgatory and somehow chained himself to a barely-whelped shadow of his People who now wielded a fragment of his power with as much finesse as a young mage with a training wand. 

Still, he would endure. Cordiality where it was required and expected, fleeting pleasure in the spirits he could still approach and the sweet desserts that thankfully never vanished from the imagination, temperance in all else. Another trial, another penance to be paid. 

But a self-inventory summarily revealed] that his heart now thrummed with a quiet music not unlike the layered echoes resounding from a strummed harp. Sentiments built like a scale. He closed his eyes and listened, and to his surprise he discovered it whispered the name of the Inquisitor, and in the next breath  urged him to recall the moments in their involuntary alliance that shook him from hypnotic stoicism.

Pity, pity for this Dalish girl, this innocent who was to have their life drastically torn asunder by yet another one of his mistakes.

Compassion, compassion for an unprepared child to be enlisted in a cause filled with those just as resolute in condemning her as they were in deeming her a necessity. Like a helpless babe tossed to wolves, she did not so much as whimper for fear of reprisal by forces she could barely comprehend.

Uncertainty, uncertainty at how such a skittish, stuttering, nervous da'len would be able to survive the trials set before her. She lacked understanding in the finer points of what moved the hearts of men. Her shyness intensified when in the company of human nobility to the point that her thoughts were rendered unintelligible. She commanded no presence, projected no confidence, [rested no worried hearts ]. When she spoke it was with a habit of editing her own thoughts in a messy and redundant manner.

Fondness, fondness for the way she listened to him like a child engrossed in a yarn regaled by an elder. The questions she asked, the desire to know and understand the foreign, intangible world he had come to call home long before her grandfather's grandfather's grandfather had been born.

Paternity, paternity because she struggled so very hard with her tremendous self-doubt, her [flagging] sense of belonging, her poor intuition in everything but the art of the bow. The others teased her as colleagues were wont to do but they did not see, as he and Cole saw with such painful clarity, that their words were as damaging as a sharpened knife against the bark of a new tree. That her face was in a near-permanent flush not because of the heat or sun damage but [perpetual embarrassment] at the thought that *she was truly a fool made to be mocked and [unloved]*.

But he kisses back. He kisses back and silently wills that these good intentions--Truly, they were good. Truly, he loved her in every sense of the word. Truly, he now cannot imagine a life having never known her--would leave similar indelible fingerprints on her heart as she has done to him.  

When they part, his eyes rove over the glassy sheen of gray eyes holding back nervously-happy tears; the disgusting, artfully-inked crow of Dirthamen marring her full flushed cheeks and child-like upturned nose and soft sweep of her constantly furrowed brow, he is struck by the desire to cherish her for all time. Hold her and kiss her and pour all of his devotion into her ears until she was reduced to a quivering mess. It would be better for her, so his fantasy narrated, because she is too pure for this world as it is, too good.

She was, the rational side of him agreed, but ignorance was not the proper path toward true happiness. Balance, balance and understanding and righteous action were.

#tallin lavellan #solas #solavellan #fanfiction #my fanfiction #wip #wip wednesday #DA:I

[wolfiefics]

WIP Wednesday-Star Wars (Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan)

Last one. Who knows if I’ll ever do this again. LOL!

I’ve put the WIP up on my QuiObi discord for them to read and give feedback. Not sure where this came from or why the Jedi High Council are such...um...a-holes, but there you have it. If I continue the story, I might redeem them. If they play nice.  This is a snippet from Healer Vokara Che’s point of view a tiny bit past the opening of the fic. I like it cuz it’s a major smackdown in progress. For some reason I always portray her as this no-nonsense, I-don’t-put-up-with-stupidity type of character. Probably because she’s put up with stubborn, pig-headed Jedi her whole career.  So yeah. Tentatively titled The Lifebond (I know, I know, it’s awful!).

The healer Vokara Che felt that having four Council members at her appointment with Master Jinn and Padawan Kenobi a bit…excessive. And nosy. Apparently, in the matter of the first known lifebond between Jedi in centuries, privacy had no place. While the two having a bond didn’t really bother her that much, she was well aware that the current High Council were sticklers for the rules and, technically, a lifebond broke the rule of attachment.

‘What a load of garbage,’ she snorted to herself but maintained her cool, outward demeanor.

Once all interested parties were situated in the small conference room she’d had to book for the meeting, Vokara cleared her throat and started to speak, only to be rudely interrupted by Master Windu, who demanded, “How can this bond be broken without harm to them?”

She glowered at him, which made him frown at her and then slowly subside back as her disapproval radiated from her and sunk into his thick skull. “May I speak or does the Council demand answers expecting me to give them telepathically?” she asked sarcastically.

Master Yoda humphed but she didn’t think it was an amused humph.

“Since Master Windu is in charge of this appointment,” she said acerbically, “I’ll tell you straight up, it can’t. Not without, as I stated previously, potentially turning them into vegetables or killing them outright. Of course, if the Code is more important than maintaining life, then by all means, have at it.” She gestured expansively at the two Jedi in question.

“Sarcasm you will keep to yourself, Healer Che,” Yoda snapped.

“Perhaps the Jedi High Council needs to be reminded that patient/healer confidentiality is restricted to, surprisingly enough, the healer and the patient. Or in this case, patients. Not that they are ill or in anyway ‘less’ than they were before.” She knew her lekku were moving in agitation. “But of course, the Jedi High Council are above Republic law, yes?”

Everyone but Masters Jinn and Yoda and Padawan Kenobi were immediately discomfited.  ‘Good,’ she thought savagely.

Master Yoda tapped a single claw warningly on the table. “Respect you will give,” he said in warning.

“When it is earned, of course, Master Yoda,” she said with mock-graciousness, “and given in turn. That is, after all, the Jedi way? Or has that been superseded by the Code as well?”

Before she and Master Yoda could continue their sniping, Master Jinn raised a hand. “Please, Healer Che, while we appreciate your defense of us, if the Council, in its infinite and knowing wisdom, sees fit to barge in on a private meeting, by all means, let them. Continue with what you have to impart, if you please.”

She hesitated but decided Jinn was right. “As I said, the bond cannot be broken without potential horrid side-effects. The bond was in no way forced into existence, no pun intended, but brought about, as Master Jinn and Padawan Kenobi have attested, entirely by the will of the Force. It was not there when they had their last physical, which was before this last mission, and it was present, whole and mostly stable, when they returned.”

She saw Master Windu’s mouth open, probably to argue, so she continued in a rush. “If a lifebond is forcibly created it takes weeks, sometimes an entire yearly cycle to become as stable as theirs is. The last three Jedi bondmates created their bonds in this manner. The last pair reported that it took up to two yearly cycles. The bond between Master Jinn and Padawan Kenobi formed in less than a ten. Thus, it is the Force that created it, not them.” She gave everyone a dry look. “Unless, of course, the masters are now teaching classes in the rapid formation of bonds that haven’t been created in centuries?” She allowed her sarcasm to roll out once more. Windu’s mouth clamped shut and he scowled.

“What are our choices, Healer Che?” asked Master Jinn with commendable aplomb.

“Closeness, sexual closeness especially, will overcome any discomfort you may be feeling until the bond completely settles. The more distance between you, the more discomfort you may feel. Aches, pains, irritability, inability to focus, that sort of thing. While your bond is stable, it’s not completed. It’s far enough along, though, that stopping it now will, as I’ve said repeatedly, cause irreversible harm.”

Masters Billaba and Mundi were thoughtful. Master Windu looked bilious. Healer Che viciously thought about asking if he needed something to settle his stomach. Master Yoda…Vokara did not like the look on the aged, and stubborn, face.

“How will this affect us in the field?” Padawan Kenobi spoke for the first time, using the typical polite and deferential tone of a Padawan Learner.

She turned her attention to him. “Not much once the bond is completely settled and you are fully linked. Every bond is a bit different. Some pairs have telepathy, or merely empathy like a training bond. Some completely feel and experience when under duress and shields are thin or non-existent everything that the other feels. While that could be detrimental, it can be overcome with a bit of practice and time. I wouldn’t recommend any potentially dangerous situations until how your bond reacts to you both is determined.”

Padawan Kenobi gave a thoughtful nod and slanted a speaking look at his master…bondmate. Vokara wondered for a moment if some of that had already begun to develop the way the two seemed to be silently communicating. Her reverie was broken when the Council members, as one, stood up with an officious flurry of robes.

Master Windu managed a bow to the three still seated before stating in imperious tones, “The Council will discuss the situation and decide what needs to be done. Master Jinn, Padawan Kenobi, your current orders stand until that is done. Master Che, we thank you for your diligence.”

Masters Billaba and Mundi hustled after Windu out the door but Yoda remained, his eyes slitted and gazing at the three of them. She couldn’t read his expression but all but jumped when the little green being spoke sharply. “Do nothing hasty you will, grandpadawan mine.”

Vokara silently cheered when Master Jinn merely gazed placidly back. “I do as I have always done, my master. What the Force tells me to do. My bondmate and I will do what we must, with or without your leave.” The last was said as a warning but Vokara highly doubted Yoda paid it any serious mind.

She knew, though, without a doubt, it would be a serious mistake on Master Yoda’s part to ignore it.

Yoda climbed from his chair and stumped out of the room. Vokara stood up and closed the door gently behind him. Then she turned to the bondmates and gave a savage grin. “I don’t know what you two are planning,” she said, “but let me tell you something that is none of their farking business. Bonded Force sensitives have been reported for years throughout the known galaxy. I made contact with a few healer colleagues and they state they have stumbled across some here and there. The Jedi Order has ignored them, because they are not Jedi, and therefore not the Order’s problem.” She shook her head. “Apparently even Jedi aren’t free of good old-fashioned bigotry and prejudice.”

There was another round of silent communication between the bondmates. Master Jinn pursed his lips thoughtfully before speaking. “Has their bonds given them an edge in any particular occupations?” he asked a casual voice that fooled Vokara not one bit.

“Oh, all sorts of freelance diplomatic positions, perhaps bounty hunting, smuggling, and more legal commercial trade that takes them into hot spots.” She gave them a toothy grin, showing off her white sharp teeth. “Nothing the two of you haven’t dealt with many times over, I’m sure.”

Understanding dawned on Padawan Kenobi’s face and a brief flare of mischief crossed his face. She knew that he’d picked up that she approved of the bond and was giving them her blessing to get the hell out of the Temple as fast as they could.

“A couple of my colleagues’ information and direction I would be happy to pass on to you, should you wish to ask them further questions that I didn’t think, or know, to ask,” she said magnanimously.

Master Jinn stood up, followed by Padawan Kenobi. Both bowed to her with deep respect.

“We thank you, Healer Che, for your care of us over the years. We would appreciate any information you can give us, even if it’s through colleagues of yours. We are in your debt, always.”

She flushed a bit at the praise and bowed in return. “I wish you both happiness with your bond and may the Force be with you.”

Both nodded in unison, turned and left her alone in the conference room. She felt certain she would never see them again.

It wasn’t good riddance and more ‘damn the council’s high-mindedness’ that she was feeling, along with a bone-deep sadness that the Jedi were losing such a complimentary and stellar pair of Jedi.

The High Council of the Jedi Order were fools.

#wip wednesday #star wars #pre-tpm #au #slash #qui-gon/obi-wan #obi-wan/qui-gon #lifebonds #fanfic

[eirian-houpe]

Working Wednesday

Here is the state of my current WIPs. Let’s see if I can get it in under the wire, shall we.  It has been 2 weeks since I last did one of these so... here we go!

This last fortnight I have posted the second through the fifth storie in a series called Lover’s Leap which are being written for the AU-gust prompt series. If I get them all done in August it will be a miracle.  Their titles are:

The Dark One and the Beast A Lifetime of HIstory “We Never Stopped Being Enemies.” Fallen Rest Easy, Love.

I have also written but not edited the next two in the series. Their titles are:

Just Breathe Methedhênlû

And I have two that I am working on at the same time called:

The Hatter Bats In The Belfrey

Once all this madness is done, I’ll be spending two weeks focusing on one fic at a time. Starting with Disparate Pathways.

The Library Beneath the Clock Tower: AU Cursed Storybrooke. (Inspried by/based on The Bookshop on the Corner: A Novel, by Jenny Colgan)

Storybrooke has no library, and neither does Belle, not since the library where she worked in Boston discovered her past as an inpatient at a mental hospital. Taking her future into her own hands, Belle travels to Storybrooke where her intention is to open up the town library, but all does not go according to her plan. Obstacles and false starts, and diversion along very wrong pathways interrupt her journey toward fulfilling her dream, as well as taking her rightful place and becoming a part of the Storybrooke community. -  Chapter 35 been posted.

All Our Past Mistakes: AU Non-Cursed Storybrooke

Doctor Gold, professor of history at the local campus of Maine University, is stuck in a loveless, and one might say abusive relationship with a wife who is less than attentive to their family, and whom he suspects cares little for her marital vows. His resolve to maintain his own faithfulness is sorely tested by the presence of one of his new students - a junior by the name of Belle French - whom it seems fate is determined to put in his way. The two become embroiled in a passionate, and redemptive relationship, but not before suffering numerous setbacks and separations. This is no instantaneous happy ever after, but a tale of two hurt souls finding their way together through darkness and despair. - nothing written since last week

Disparate Pathways: AU and Remix of Witness Protection, which was written for the 2019 RSS.

Gold has a past, a past that he has rejected, but it seems one that will not let him go. Belle, daughter of Governor Maurice French has been kidnapped, along with her mother, and just as the authorities raid the organization that is holding her hostage, decides to make her own bid for freedom, unknowingly derailing an undercover sting, and Agent Milnor has not choice but to take her into ‘protective custody,’ but is he all that he seems? As the threads of the story grow more tangled and the threat to Belle, and to Gold, her appointed protector, grow ever more real, a growing, mutual attraction makes everything far more desperate and far too personal for Gold to ignore what he knows to be the truth. - the next seven chapters are now planned and ready for writing and I have written 945 words of chapter 8, which is the next chapter.

Scattered: AU OUAT, where the curse didn’t quite happen the way it did on the show. (It went ‘wrong’)

Casting a spell, any spell - at least the ones that involve more than just the wave of a hand, or worse, the wave of an irritating fairy’s wand - takes time, and patience, and the right ingredients, and… just like any recipe, if you get it wrong, it doesn’t mean the cake won’t cook, rather then will, just with unexpected or unintended outcomes. All of Rumplestiltskin’s careful planning and manipulation, all of his hopes and dreams turn to dust; ashes in his bitter heart in the blink of an eye… in the fall of an equine heart. Belle exchanges one terrible prison for another, and it’s one she is desperate to escape, and though Rumple’s fate as The Savior was severed from him centuries ago, sometimes fate itself has a way of finding an alternate route home. - nothing written since last week

What the Actual Fuck! : Sutherelle fic

Prime Minister Robert Sutherland is feeling pressured, and isn’t prepared to acquiesce to the repeated challenges from within his cabinet nor the wider circle of those around him. He resorts to drastic measures to ascertain who can be trusted, turning to an ‘old friend’ to help him separate the wheat from the chaff. Said friend promises to send in his best operative to assist the PM, the trouble is the operative finds out more than Robert necessarily wants to know, and all this just as all hell is breaking loose around him; people hurt, Britain in chaos and multiple deaths push him into making some hard hitting decisions in order to safeguard himself, the country, and the people he cares about - Nothing written since last week.

Breathe: Rushbelle.

As the Lucian Alliance attack Icarus Base, Doctor Rush makes the decision that dialing back to Earth is too dangerous, though that may not at all be his reason for attempting to dial the ninth chevron, persuaded by Eli, and by something Belle had said to him previously, he substitues Earth for Icarus, and the connection is made. In spite of hurrying to urge Belle to the ‘Gate room and through the ‘Gate, neither he, nor anyone else believes that Belle actually made it on board Destiny…  - Part one of the We Three series. -  Nothing written since last week.

Storybrooke’s Best Kept Secret: Rumbelle, Cursed Storybrook AU

This story was created accidentally when what I had written didn’t fit for something else. in which Belle is not kept in the assylum, but in a little cottage on the very edge of Storbrook town, and few know she’s there.  Then, one day, someone else finds out. -  Nothing written since last week.

Darkness In Hyperion Heights: Woven Beauty, Mystery/Paranormal AU

One stormy morning, Detective Weaver shows up to work and finds someone waiting for him in his office.  His visitor is a scholar and a curator for the British Museum, and has recently discovered that an artefact from the vaults is missing. She has followed the trail left in the wake of its disappearence and it led her to Hyperion Heights, and now, she needs Weaver’s help - nothing written since last week

Modern Wonders: Well now, how to classify /this/ one?  Lets start by saying it is a crossover with OUAT and SyFy’s Mini-series, Alice. It’s kind of ‘ensemble’ and kind of ‘Mad Rumbelle/Mad Curious Archer’ sorta kinda.  This is still in the ‘mulling’ stage, and might not get anything posted for a while, because of… well… reasons! (Spoilers), but we’re working on it.

Also, I still have 2 series awaiting their next works: Darker Hearts: an AU Wish!Rumbelle, and Thoughts On A Happy Ending: A Rumblelle focussed Belle introspective of the entire journey from season 1 through season 7. Nothing has been written for either just yet, so no change since theirlast update, but they are included in the writing schedule so maybe that will change.

All published works can be found on AO3 where I write as Eilinelithil.

Please feel free to ask me questions about /anything/ you see here, or any other curiosity that enters your head - anonymous asks accepted, I’ll talk about most things if you ask. If you want to ask the characters anything, you can do that too! You can also prompt me if you wish.

#rumbelle #current wips #wips #send asks #feel free to prompt me #cue loud crickets

[ecoamerica]

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The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24HighSchoolStudents #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental education #environmental justice #environmental protection #environmental health #high school students #high school #youth #youth of america #school