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#wip wednesday

WIP Wednesday!!!

Holy crap I crawled out of my hidey hole to do one of these finally lmao thanks @laraslandlockedblues for finally tagging after I was a lil butthead 🤣🤣

Anyway this is from my Pokémon Sw/Sh alternate timeline AU. Idk what’s up with the formatting, I’m on mobile and the app is shitting itself.

Where’s Becquerel?” Lily looked up and saw Bede scanning the crowd curiously.

“He’s with Hop’s mum.” The words were listless on her tongue, tasteless and empty. Her voice felt like it belonged to someone else. “And Leon.”

“Hm.” The sound of shuffling, and of boots squelching in mud. “You told him to do that, I presume?”

“Yeah. They need him more than me right now.” She stared straight ahead as she spoke, her eyes boring holes through the casket in front of her. The rain began to intensify. She shuffled forward under the canopy, one foot in front of the other.

Why couldn’t she cry? She mumbled the question under her breath and watched the air fog up in front of her. Why couldn’t she cry?

“Some things hurt too much to feel them right away. It doesn’t make you a bad person to feel numb for a while.”

She looked up and stared at Bede for a moment, watched the way the wind whipped stray wisps of his sandy hair into his face. “Why are you here?” She asked finally. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

His face twitched, almost imperceptibly, before he looked away, tilted his head back and stared at the sky. “I know what it’s like to lose people,” he said finally. He extended a hand. “You deserved better, and so did he.”

We love pain and suffering in this house. :’)

Tagging @sasshole-for-rent, @kaychunface, @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold, @shannaraisles, @kagetsukai, @ladymdc, @5ftgarden.

Holler if you want me to tag you and I didn’t. :D

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WIP Wednesday

“Androma –!” Quynh looked horrified. 

Andromache was collapsed in a heap. “Ugh. No,” she groaned. “Ankles are the devil and heights make no sense. I should have been able to jump that.”

“Sweetheart, let me…” Quynh bent down.

“The human body should not have joints,” Andromache grumbled.

“Andromache, are you suggesting that we should be squids?”

Chapter 2 in Healing is a Verb like Trust is titled Andy vs. Gravity.

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In the midst of all the crazy, I almost forgot it was…

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“Are you okay?” Cora asked.

“Of course not,” he said.  “This is my worst nightmare.”

“I know.”

“No, what I mean to say is…”  Loki pressed his teeth against his tongue, which felt fat and stupid and he wished it would stop betraying the fact that he could hardly think.  Thoughts moved through him like raindrops, too fast to see until he felt them crash.

Cora stood still, waiting for him to go on.  Loki aggressively pinched the bridge of his nose. “I have no say in what I do here.  I answer to everyone except myself.  It’s maddening!“

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I’m calling this WIP Wednesday even though the embroidery is finished, since I still need to either fold or cut the bias and finish my edges. I have some decisions to make, but in the meantime I’ve gone back to goldwork embroidery.

For such a small and simple project, this thing caused me so many issues. It didn’t help that I graphed the wings-up harpy wrong at first, and then decided to change it halfway through, but I also had at least two points where I counted threads wrong. I definitely had to frog misspellings way too many times. Also, Athena especially pretty much always wanted to “help”.

My math seems to have mostly worked out, though, and I’m happy with how it looks. Because I hate myself, I think I want to stitch a pair of sleeves for a chemise with blackwork harpies. Why am I like this?

thetextilealchemist
thetextilealchemist
thetextilealchemist
thetextilealchemist
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WIP Wednesday

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…Almost Thursday, but still made it for WIP Wednesday! Thank you for tagging me @curiousartemis!

A snippet from my current focus, When Darkness Falls, ft. Cave exploring:

I head deeper in the cave. I’d use a spell, but it’s already lit by the odd bunches of candles scattered all around. More chilling, though, are the bones–a stark reminder that I might not be alone in this cave.

Something skitters past my feet.

I shriek, striking wildly with my restoration staff; a beam of bright red light revealing…a spider.

I heave a sigh of relief, then continue on.

“Gelin?” I call out again. “I’m here to help!”

It’s not a good idea to make a lot of noise in a dark cave that has lots of bones. An obvious statement, but I don’t fully think about it until a moment later.

A giant snake, lounging amidst piles of bones and pools of salt water. Unfortunately, it notices me as I notice it.

“Um…Nice snake?” I try half-heartedly, backtracking as slowly as I can.

It was not a nice snake.

I never really know who to tag for these posts, but I’ll tag @stardust-crow, @renee-writer, @monstrouswrites, @kessler-writes, and whoever else wants to do it!

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Here are two Ethan/Charley WIPs. Enjoy.



Charley looked over the chart that Marlene handed her before approaching the patient sitting in the bed. The woman had her phone in her hand and a tablet on her lap, looking at both of them.

“Hello, Ms. Brannigan? I’m Dr. Valentine. What seems to be the problem?”

The woman in the bed looked up with a frown. “I’ve already told the nurses. Can’t you read the chart? I have work I need to get to.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


Ethan shook his head. “I don’t trust Bloom. You have to finish your residency. Once you’re done with that, we’ll be better able to…”

Charley stood up and walked to the door, her back to him. She didn’t want him to see the tears ready to fall. “I can’t have this conversation now. I’m sorry.”

For the next three weeks they had avoided each other the best they could at the hospital.

Now she was alone, two days before Christmas. Although her leave had been approved, Charley told the hospital she would be happy to work over the holidays. This resulted in her being called into Leland Bloom’s office. He informed her that when HR requested leave schedules and approved them, he did not want to make changes. She would need to be more careful about requesting leave in the future.

Any works to share? @starrystarrytrouble @openheart12 @rookie-ramsey @jamespotterthefirst @utterlyinevitable

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Wisdom

Solas: Wisdom

He had to act.

He grabbed her and fade stepped inland. He felt the skin on his back blister from the heat. Their lifeboat must have been reduced to ash. Still, he pushed the limits of his mana. There was no time to look back.

He couldn’t lose her.

Their tangle of limbs plummeted into the sand. Ash floated upon them as snow and the horizon was tainted with sulfuric fury. The fire was still burning at sea.

Then a second blast erupted.

He panicked.

They lurched through the jungle once more. Solas felt the wolf’s mana course through him as he tapped into his reserve. He was not strong enough yet to withstand the surge of primal energy, but there was no other way. He felt his skin mangle into lupine limbs as he phased through the trees and he lost himself in an echo of his past for a glorious moment.

He cradled her to his chest and a surge of blue light enveloped him as he returned to his apostate body. He panted. The edges of his vision tinted in darkness as his mana depletion took its toll. He was out of practice with containing the Wolf’s mana.

He cushioned her against him as they landed. She was disoriented, as expected. He calmed her in Elvhen, nullifying her pain as best he could. He saw her then, and his chest seized. A piece of shrapnel jutted out of her stomach and a bone protruded from her thigh. Her skin was stained red.

He couldn’t breathe.

She was speaking to him, but her words drowned in the geyser of dread bubbling in him. He answered her with automatic words he couldn’t recall and his chest ached. Her body was slipping away; he felt it. Realization prickled under his skin and it was unacceptable.

He couldn’t lose her.

He wouldn’t.

With a touch he slipped her consciousness into the fade. Though a paltry shadow of his former self, Solas has always been a formidable healer. He touched the jawbone foci on his chest and relinquished himself to the primal force of the fade. His true power coursed through him with a sickening urgency. Mana bled from him, casting their surroundings in an eerie green haze as he knitted her body back together.

His own body was engulfed in agony and his vision swam, but he held on, concentrating on every vein and tendon he tended to until she was whole again. Relief washed over him before his head lolled back and oblivion took him.

***

“That was inadvisable.”

Solas blinked at Wisdom’s taciturn face. They were in her grove, under her weeping willow tree. Crystalline leaves swayed against the wind. Soft tinkling meandered from its bough and nestled along the grove. It was peaceful, and just as he remembered.

He sat up. Wisdom’s form shifted from a gaseous entity to elvhen. It emulated one of Solas’ frescoes: a three-dimensional rendering of paint and lacquer.

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The boarding house hunched on the edge of the pier as if trying not to be noticed. Doors upon doors creaked and sighed with weariness as people came and went. It was an excitable green once; granny smith apple with a fresh veneer of wax. Now it was the cloying green found on the backs of bread long forgotten in a cupboard. The doors, however, remained a rusty smear upon its face. Its owner had decreed it be painted regularly, for appearances, she had said. Never mind the sagging roof and crumbling foundation that was slowly losing its battle of stubbornness with the tide after every year. The house, as its owner, endured.

Despite its appearance, it was infamous among locals. Not because of the décor, or seaside view, but because of her. The owner. She sat there in a plastic chair in her day duster with a bowl of dried beans on her lap. Her withered fingers sifted through them quickly with the steady hand of experience, as one would spot a lie in a face. The inferior beans and any grit were tossed to the side.

She was content in her task, menial as it was. The clacking of beans and crackle of seafoam against the shore lulled her into complacency. Every now and again it was peppered with varying degrees of ‘good morning!’ and ‘hello!’ from neighbors and boarders. She simply smiled as they passed or returned a passing phrase. She’s seen faces upon faces throughout the years; too many.

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Thanks for the tag, @amywaterwings​!

Another excerpt from I’m Not Asking for Love

* * * * *

Simon

The five of us — Baz, Penny, Shep, Agatha, and I — are gathered around the kitchen island, elbows leaned on the countertop as we scroll through photos on our phones and compare them. This morning, Baz dropped the bomb that my parents might be alive, and that they might know about me as well.

Before today, I was dead sure that I didn’t want to look into my birth records. I’d always sort of imagined that my mother and father were in love but had me too young, and felt it best to leave me in (what they thought were) the capable hands of the sisters at the orphanage. It took years, but I got it all sorted in my head.

What Baz told me today has turned my entire world on its head. The universe decided to play a cruel trick on me the moment I thought I had everything sorted. My birth parents could be within my reach, and I’d never have known if not for Baz.

He came to me straight away with his suspicion, even took the day off work so I wouldn’t have to sit at home alone with only my thoughts for company. We curled up on the couch together and he held me close as I cried, raged over the very possibility that a man like [SPOILER ALERT] could be my father. Baz even insisted I call Penny and Agatha so I’d have emotional support from the people who know me best.

“Oh my god,” Agatha murmurs, sliding her phone to the centre of the table. “Simon, she looks so much like you. The hair, the eyes…”

“Are you freaking out right now, man?” Shep asks, setting a hand on my shoulder. “It’s totally cool if you are.”

“I, uh, don’t really know,” I admit, resting my chin on my hand as I check out the photo Agatha’s set in front of me. “It’s a lot to take in.”

* * * * *

Tagging anyone who hasn’t had a chance yet this week (it’s already 10pm where I am, so any other stragglers, get on it!

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WIP Wednesday

Some more of Until It Sleeps

He felt a bit guilty.  He had begun the morning thinking that maybe he really should pick Bixi up and spend a little time bonding with his saber.  Da-ge had been on his case for days by this point, and the way he’d almost been to the point of begging Huaisang at dinner last night had left him feeling like he should put in at least an appearance in the training yard.  And he’d even chosen his clothes this morning with that in mind—wrapped sleeves and an underlayer he wouldn’t mind sweating in.  If he timed it right he could escape with as little as two kè in the yard to have enough witnesses to testify he’d actually trained.  But then he’d been distracted by the half-finished painting he’d started the night before, and once he’d finished it he’d been looking for a good place to let it dry, and he’d glanced out the window and seen a rosefinch hopping along one of the lower walls and…


Well.  Catching birds was so much more fulfilling than training saber and he’d quickly grabbed an empty cage and gone hunting.

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Not tagged, and tagging anyone who would like to do this!

Having some bad brain times that have left me mentally/physically exhausted, so small snippet and small progress tonight. Gonna try and give myself a rest from writing for at least one day during this holiday weekend. But, the good news is the Chapter 6 draft is about half done! I’m on track to post Chapter 5 the first weekend of December. 

 Here’s a peek from Chapter 6 of Bring the Gasoline in the meantime:

“Yeah, it’s definitely not your color.”

“Oh?” Natasha’s smile turns teasing. “What is my color?”

MacCready studies her intently. She dresses dark, mostly. Blacks and browns and grays. Except that something blue borrowed from the Cabots that she slipped on for slipping into Goodneighbor. Still dark, but just a glimpse of color when it moves. Kind of like how her hair tints red beneath the sun, and fades brown when the light goes. He sees that now, while she’s tugging her fingers through the tangles.

“Hm. Maybe…blue.”

She holds her breath. It’s just for a second, and she doesn’t drop the smile. But something caught, tight in her chest. Something he said. One of those words was the wrong one. He fills in others to bury it.

“Nah,” he muses, “leopard-print with black boots. Can’t go wrong with going bold.”

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From my upcoming Merry Chissmas bingo challenge fic…

this excerpt from the “unexpected kink discovery” square ;)

Why in the galaxy would the Governor do that?  On a comm?!  In front of his deputies, and hers?  And the truly bizarre part was, he’d liked it.  Liked her knowing he had been staring at the curves of her body, thinking about what lay hidden beneath the slip of material wrapped around her chest.  Liked the fact that other people were there, watching, maybe wondering if anything was going on between them.  Thrawn certainly hadn’t expected it of her, but never in a thousand millennia expected it of himself—to enjoy the attention, the dangerous hint of seduction, poorly timed and absolutely misplaced.  In fact, if they’d been in the room together, and she’d done the same thing, he’d have—

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myevilmouse
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sparkie96Answer

I forgot the prompt list, so I’m gonna improvise with a rare-pair. Warning: N.S.F.W.  Rated M for Language, Adult Content and mild violence. It’s kind of dark so if that’s not your thing, please don’t read. 
_______________________________________________________________

An AU of RE4 and RE5 where Krauser survives the events of Resident Evil 4 and works with Wesker and Excella during the events of Resident Evil 5…but Chris ends up getting his ass kicked by Krauser and then captured before getting experimented on by Wesker and Excella. Let’s just say, the turkey isn’t the only one getting stuffed this Thanksgiving.

Don’t worry, at least Jill, Sheva and Josh made it out. 

Pretty much gonna be PwP…because I cann

Btw, what the hell would Krauser x Chris be? Jacris? Chrack? Krausfield? Idk, my brain is fried from working retail and long ass shifts this time of the year. Tis the season, y’all:)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27716573

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i’ve wanted to post something for #wipwednesday for ages and always forgotten, but today i remembered! anyway, here’s a bit of an mdzs ds9 au i’ve been working on. it’s part of the scene in which lan wangji meets the prophets. probably won’t make sense if you haven’t seen the first ep of ds9 😅

Granny Wen exclaims over him fondly, pinching his ear in that strange Bajoran fashion. He likes her, but her understanding of personal space is different from his. 

“A-Yuan has asked about you every day since you left,” Granny Wen confides to Lan Wangji. A-Yuan is still in Wei Ying’s arms, and Wei Ying is making silly faces at him. “And that boy only encouraged him!” 

“You’re his favorite subject,” Fourth Uncle teases. “Especially after too much fruit wine!”

Wei Ying’s head jerks up. “Ahh, uncle, please—” he protests. 

“You’ll have to stay for a month,” Granny Wen decides. “Just to make up for how much they missed you.” 

“Granny—” 

“Or at least for dinner,” Fourth Uncle says. “We know you’re busy.” 

Lan Wangji looks at Wei Ying. Wei Ying looks back, cheeks faintly pink, biting his lip. There’s hope in his eyes. 

“Yes!” A-Yuan shouts. “Stay for dinner, gege!” 


His mother who is not his mother stands next to Granny Wen. Her face is unreadable. 

(they are part of your existence.) 

“Yes,” Lan Wangji says softly. He has remembered this day so many times over the years. “They are part of my past. Many of them are no longer alive.” 

(but they are part of your existence.)

“An important part,” Lan Wangji agrees, looking down at his son who is not his son. “But we lost them some time ago.”

(lost?) 

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Death and War go hand in hand. One can’t exist without the other. The two have always had a deal. A balance. War kills. Death comforts the dying. 

There isn’t a shortage of death in this war. Too many lives have been taken already, either from the bitter cold or War himself.

Another round of shelling starts. The familiar cries of wounded men pierce the air. Medics jump into action, working to save the wounded. One in particular stands out to War. 

Moments later, a shell explodes. Death comforts the wounded soldier, another victim of War. 

Sometimes, even the good don’t survive War.

kmorecoffee
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Tagged by the always lovely @laraslandlockedblues and @noire-pandora - thank you! ♥

I don’t have anything new but here’s something from my editing of Deja Vu Jamais Vu:

Thane was still very calm as he replied in the affirmative. Amy was struck mute with fear, and it was only when he made to leave that she stood up quickly and caught his arm.

He looked down at where her fingers were wrapped around his forearm, and then up at her, his brows raised. 

“Be- be careful,” she stammered out. Her heart was beating heavy in her chest. “Please.”

Tagging @kagetsukai, @ma-sulevin, @thevikingwoman, @galadrieljones, @iarollane, @shannaraisles, @a-shakespearean-in-paris, @wardenari and anyone else who’s interested!

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It’s Wednesday, guess i’ll share part of my big WIP. This is from my Blues! Matthew Tkachuk fic where Keith is a million times worse. This particular piece of dialogue is from Colton when Matthew gets locked out by Keith and shows up on his doorstep.

“Oh Matthew, You matter to people. You matter to me and you matter to the team. Not just because you’re good at hockey, not just because we’re teammates but because you’re Matthew. You’re the dork who loves high fantasy and magical realism even if he won’t admit it. You’re the person whose entire face lights up in the presence of any kid. Your Matthew who wanted to be a teacher, Matthew who likes to read, Matthew who’s quiet and loud and pretty much everyone’s favourite rookie not that they’ll say it. You matter to us Matthew, we’re going to fix this ok? I promise you Matthew, me and the rest of the team, we’re going to fix this. We failed you once, we’re not going to fail you again.”

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