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bluefurcape · 3 years

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WIP Wednesday

The Sun and the Moon

(working title)

Wrote this for KS month but I wanted to expand it more then never really got around to it. So posting it here to pressure me to keep going on it! Light fantasy AU with arranged marriage!

More of my writing here!

It was a political marriage from the start, intended to end a war between their people that had lasted for years. Kakashi had no misgivings about where he and his new bride stood. Two complete strangers forced into the same bed for the sake of peace.

It made no sense that everything could come to a stop because of such a thing, but if that was what it took to stop the needless deaths, Kakashi willingly entered into a sham of a marriage to do it.

With the the wedding party still going on strong below, music and laughter faintly floated up through the closed door. The taste of plum wine lingered in his mouth, coating the back of his throat—the libations had flowed freely tonight. He made no protest when his cup was filled again and again. He lingered at the door, swaying for a moment before turning to the woman kneeling on the silk bedding spread on the floor. She wore a kimono patterned with mountains shrouded in blue mist, the long sleeves and train pooling around her. Her elaborate wedding headdress hid most of her features from him. This would be the first time that he laid eyes on her face.

His bride, Haruno Sakura.

She was the only daughter of the daimyo of the Land of the Mountains; quite a bit younger than Kakashi, from what he understood, but at least she wasn’t a child bride. He had to count his blessings where he could.

Kakashi kept his expression neutral, even as a sense of dread rose in him as he approached her and crouched down to remove the headdress. Despite the naked misery in her expression, she was beautiful, just as his advisers had assured him that she would be. Her unusual pink hair had been gathered into a complicated style and enhanced with gold hair ornaments and pins. Bright green eyes met his then lowered to the floor, but not before he glimpsed the burning anger in them. Her tears had left delicate tracts in her makeup.

“If you would not like to be touched, then I won’t force you.” Kakashi sighed as he set aside the headdress next to her. He wasn’t that type of man and would never be.

She made a small noise of disbelief. “Oh, is that right?”

Throughout the festivities, she remained silent at his side, not speaking once. The first sound of her voice was not what he expected from her; he thought that, like her appearance, her tone would be demure, as refined as glass and just as fragile. Instead, he heard hard, unbreakable steel.

He studied her for a moment. She was a foreigner, alone in this place, having been raised in a land that had been at war with his for most of her life. It was likely that she viewed him, the enemy daimyo, as a monster, and she the sacrifice to feed his appetite. Perhaps she might come to think differently with time, but not tonight.

Kakashi looked away from her, standing again. He began undressing himself, placing his wedding clothes on the waiting stand.

“What are you doing?” Alarm bled into her words.

He raised a brow, gesturing to the heavy robes of black and silver brocade that he’d tolerated for the sake of the ceremony. “Getting ready to sleep. I’m not going to keep these on in bed.”

He continued until he was only down to the thinner under robe. After that, he slipped beneath the covers on the side that she wasn’t occupying and closed his eyes. She was still staring at him, so he told her, “Blow out the lamp when you’re ready.”

“Are you really not going to do anything?” Sakura asked suspiciously.

Kakashi turned, showing his back to her. “Yes.”

Wary silence followed. Finally, there was soft rustling and he guessed that she was removing her formal clothing as well. Though she clearly was unwilling to stay here, she had nowhere else to go. Neither of them could be seen slipping out this room before the morning. He resisted letting out a sigh as he considered the fact that a woman as beautiful as her was sharing his bed and they were only going to sleep. He heard her extinguish the lamp before she slid beneath the covers as well.

“You won’t say that I refused you?” Sakura asked in the dark.

Kakashi knew the implication behind that question. If they didn’t consummate this marriage, then it would have all been for nothing. The fragile balance of peace would surely come apart.

“If anything, I refused you.” He shifted so that he was on his back again, staring up at the ceiling.

This was a foolish move on his part, to give her this power over him. If Kakashi was the reason for why their lands returned to war, then she would at least be free to return home without shame while he would be reviled by his own people. He rationalized his actions in his mind as a test of her character.

“I won’t do that,” Sakura replied after giving it much thought. There was that steel in her voice again, unyielding.

“Then it seems we have a long marriage to look forward to.”

Kakashi did not see his wife often.

It suited him better this way. He had many important duties to see to, in any case, that took much of his day. She was gone before he woke in the mornings, or he pretended to remain asleep until she slipped away. At night, they avoided each other in the same way. They were like passing ships on the sea, never crossing paths. He didn’t know what she did with her time, but he had no interest in learning anything more.

A week passed since the wedding. The delegation from her land would be leaving soon. It was a more subdued affair than the earlier festivities, but Sakura and Kakashi and their retinue ventured out from the castle to bid them farewell from the gates.

She watched them go, her expression torn. One guard, wearing the dark green uniform emblazoned with the white crest of the Haruno clan, turned around, his gaze lingering on her. A strong emotion simmered in his dark eyes. The young man seemed about the same age as Sakura. She made a small sound that only Kakashi was near enough to hear as the guard looked away and rejoined his group.

Before the delegation disappeared from sight, Sakura wrapped her arms around herself and fled, returning to the castle.

That night, Kakashi heard her crying in her sleep. It was the first time that she’d shed any tears since the day of their wedding. He laid there, listening to her quiet sobs and then she spoke a name.

“Sasuke.”

Kakashi opened his eyes and stared up at the rafters.

Ah, he thought. That was likely the name of the man who had stopped to look at her. So there was someone that you had given your heart to before this.

Eventually, her tears faded and she fell into a deeper dream, but Kakashi remained awake for a long time after that.

The next morning, he sat up when he heard her try to slip out beneath the covers as usual and this startled her.

“Good morning,” he said.

Her eyes had gone round and she was so taken off guard by the benign pleasantry that she muttered back, rather rudely, “What is it?”

“I think I need a day off today. Would you like to help me escape my responsibilities?” It was something that Kakashi hadn’t done in a while, not since he had taken on the role of the daimyo.

“Shouldn’t you take your work more seriously?” she asked him scornfully.

He shrugged. “What else is peace good for if not to enjoy life a little?”

She pursed her lips in disapproval, but he was already getting up.

“It would be nice to have a change of scenery,” Sakura admitted.

She had been living in the castle compound for nearly a wweek now. Though he had no idea what her days look liked, he imagined that she hadn’t ventured out beyond the walls, especially in the past week while the delegation from her homeland had been here.

They dressed plainly and escaped through a corridor and a side door that was rarely used. When he showed her this way out, she seemed to consider him differently.

“You’ve done this before,” she observed.

“I discovered it as a child. It was the best way to avoid my tutors.”

Once they were in the courtyard, he led them around a few other buildings as they avoided his aides and patroling guards. He was pleased to see her keep up, following closely at his heels and learning to watch for his silent signals.

He miscalculated as he turned a corner, nearly running into a guard. Thinking quickly, he walked backward and grabbed her wrist, yanking her into a little alley before they could be spotted.

His heart pounded in his chest as he listened for the guard’s footsteps to fade. When he believe they were safe, he let out a sigh of relief and smiled down at her before realizing the intimacy of their position, her frame fitted neatly with his. It broke the unspoken rule between them that had been laid down since their wedding night that they would not touch each other.

“My apologies,” Kakashi said, untangling himself and stepping gingerly out of the alley.

“It’s all right,” she replied as she came out too.

They stood there, shifting awkwardly until he decided that they should keep moving before they were caught. He kept his focus ahead, not wanting to see the expression on her face.

#kakasaku #my writing #sue words #arranged marriage #light fantasy au #this is a rough draft

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guiltysecretpasttime · 3 years

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Linzin Week 2021: Day 3 - Stargazing (part 3)

WIP Pre-Canon AU Lin x Tenzin Rating: Eventual M To the Linzin week 2021 organizers: Is it fine to post a WIP - a serialized contribution? Will post it in AO3 as well once completed ✌🏽 Read part 1 here.

Lin was looking forward to a quiet soak in the bath. She figured it was late at night enough that Tenzin would have retired to bed.

Upon opening the door, smoke wafted to her face. Something smelled… burned, she thought while coughing.

“Lin, is that you?” Tenzin’s voice came from the balcony.

“What happened?” Lin fanned away the smoke as she to him.

Tenzin was slouched on the outdoor chair, bottle of beer in hand. “I attempted to cook.” Tenzin’s face was pinched.

“Aw, you were supposed to have a dinner date?” She leaned on the doorway. “Scared the poor girl away?”

There was a strange look on the airbender’s face. “No…she didn’t show up.”

“I’m sorry.” She said and realized she was sincere about it. She pointed to him and waved to the still dissipating smoke. “Didn’t think to use airbending?”

“Oh.” Tenzin’s eyebrows furrowed. “To be honest, I wasn’t thinking straight.” Then he took a swig off the beer bottle.

Ah, it was that kind of night.

By all appearances, the airbender was a stickler for air nomad tradition. However, his parents both agreed to raised him and his siblings in a more liberal way. This resulted in the siblings to adapt any practices of their parents’ heritage into the quickly modernizing society.

And that includes the occasional alcoholic drink for this airbending master.

“How was work? A little bit late, isn’t it?”

“Terrible.” Lin slumped into the opposite garden chair and grabbed the bottle off Tenzin’s hand. “One of the detectives mucked up the paperwork. His sergeant and I had to work double time to meet the deadline for the indictment.” She took a gulp from the bottle before giving it back.

There was a relief in his expression that puzzled her.

“That’s grea- terrible indeed.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sarcasm still does not suit you, airhead.”

Tenzin continued to punctuate the otherwise quiet night air with comments about his day and questions about Lin’s.

They took turns from the bottle until Tenzin finished the last swallow. “This is nice.”

“Hmmm?”

“We haven’t had this long a conversation since... I don’t remember when.”

Huh.

Tenzin gestured to get more beer and she nodded.

She sat back, scratching her arm as she thought.

That was sad, in reality.

But nice. No expectations. Reverting to their old habits, their old patterns to before they became a couple.

She squinted.

That had been so long ago.

“Say, do you want to go up?” Tenzin held two bottles of bear, cold with icy condensation at its surface.

“I don’t see why not.” Lin stretched, took one bottle of beer then followed Tenzin to the rooftop.

There was no actual furniture on the rooftop, but there were some wooden crates that they had fashions into makeshift seats and tables.

Pulling up a crate, Lin remembered why they selected this apartment.

It was not in the more glamorous districts in the city. It was quite close to the suburbs, to be honest. That was something they both liked to have maybe in the future, a quaint quiet home in the suburbs. Until then, this is the closest they could get.

And well, they took it on because the apartment unit was at the top floor with easy access to the rooftop.

Tenzin settled little ways to the side, about two crates away from her.

She popped open both of their bottles.

“There isn’t a lot of stars tonight.”

A glance at Tenzin revealed he was observing the sky.

Lin simply shrugged. She knew him well enough to know that a Tenzin who has had alcohol is a talkative Tenzin.

“We were discussing about oral tradition earlier in class. One of the students shared about the Earth Kingdom superstition that you can actually use the stars to find your soulmate.” Tenzin hunched on his knees, picking at the label of the bottle. “Do you believe any of that?”

“Believe what?” She decided to humor him.

“Soulmates.” He replied quietly, not meeting her gaze.

“Soulmates…” Lin took a gulp of beer first, considering her words. “Can’t say I do.”

The airbender now turned to her. In his haste, his almost full bottle had liquid swished on the floor. “Why not?”

“I mean, look at people we grew up with,” Lin grimaced, using her fingers to count. “Uncle Sokka didn’t really settle down, did he? Was his soulmate the moon spirit? We can never know.” She took a tip and pointed out another finger. “My mom – we don’t even have to explain that further -.”

“But doesn’t the thought of someone out there to be with you sound, well, reassuring?”

“Not really. Sounds like a load of excuses not to put effort into a relationship since you knew from the get-go, you’re for each other.”

“So, you really don’t believe in soulmates?” Tenzin asked slowly.

“Pffft no, of course not. Soulmates? Oh, come on.” Lin decided a change in topic was needed as the current conversation was about to get maudlin.

---

He tore off the label of the bottle.

But, I do.

***

As with any of their annual vacations, aside from a day or two spent with the entire group, everyone was pretty much left to their own devices.

This made their farce a bit easier to pull off.

Tenzin decided early on to spend most of the time in their room. Lin was barely there anyway so it work.

Tock-tock-tock.

“I know you’re in there.”

Knowing that his brother will not leave until he acknowledged him, Tenzin opened the door.

Bumi entered without waiting to be invited in, hands behind his back. He made a face on the papers sprawled on the table and most of the other surfaces in the cabin room. “Come now, Tenzin – there’s a reason why it’s a vacation.”

“I need to get this done.” It was a weak argument, and he knew it.

Bumi knew it.

“We’ve seen more of Lin than you in the past few days. So that means you haven’t had a lot of couple time either.”

“We see each other all the time.” Tenzin prevaricated. Technically, they did occasionally cross paths at work.

---

Bumi rolled his eyes. “Sure – at work, eh? Well, if I can’t bring you out to the party – I’ll bring it here until to agree to get out.” He brought out his ammunition. “Uncle Sokka’s personal brew!”

Tenzin struggled to catch the tall suspicious (yet unfortunately familiar) bottle.

“I’m not drinking, Bumi.”

“Oh yes, you are.” He swiped the papers off the couch and plunked himself on it.

He did not really have any other agenda other than to get Tenzin relaxed enough to join them for tonight’s excursion.

Bumi grinned as his baby brother finally popped open his bottle.

---

But, whoo boy, a Tipsy Tenzin was a Talkative Tenzin.

---

“You’ve broken up for that long?! Spirits, Tenzin! Why didn’t you think to tell me or anyone?

“Look, I knew you were proposing to Izumi this week. We didn’t want to take that away from you.”

“Still.” Bumi pondered a bit. Maybe his brother needs a wingman now? “Do you want me to bring you over with boys, when we’re over at Republic City? We can introduce you or better yet, we can go around town now and -.”

“No, thank you, Bumi.”

“Don’t you still live together?”

“Yes.”

Are you stupid? “How is that going for you?”

“It’s fine. We’re now glorified roommates. It still gives me privacy from our parents, you know. And a bit of a sanctuary. And it’s fine. We do our own thing and it’s fine.”

“Bro, you said it’s fine too many times.”

“Lin’s totally fine with it.” A beat. “She’s a big girl, she can take care of herself. It’s not like she’d like to move back to their old house either.”

Bumi frowned but agreed.“To be fair – no one asked us about our relationship so we haven’t been lying.”

“Yes, you’ve been omitting the truth. I see you’re fitting really well in city hall, councilman.” Bumi patted him on the back.

---

Clunk.

“Oh, I’m sorry – did I wake you?”

The whiff of air that wafted towards him smelt of smoke, sweat, the odd smell of old alcohol, and something distinctly Lin.

“No, I was doing –.” His eyes scanned quickly the bedside table. “Some light reading.” He put up the pamphlet. “You didn’t disturb me.” He saw the clock say it was three in the morning.

“Sorry,” Lin was quickly pulling out clothes from her side of the cabinet. “Don’t worry – I’ll just take a quick shower and try not make a lot of noise. I’ll head on to bed too.”

Tenzin turned to his side of the bed, unwilling to think of what (or who, he thought distastefully) Lin might have been doing.

Not that she wasn’t in the position to do so. Of course, she was well within in her rights to do so.

Maybe telling Bumi wasn’t the smartest idea. True, he promised to keep it to himself.

Rather, Tenzin knew Bumi and the rest had gotten back to their accommodations a couple of hours earlier (judging by the racket when they were trudging nearby).

Usually, Bumi would have insisted to see to it that all of their party would have gone home together. But then again, knowing that Lin was now single, he probably did not mind if Lin had gone off on her own…

The sounds of the shower from the en suite can be heard.

Tenzin pressed his palms to his eyes.

He told Bumi it was fine.

Who was he kidding – it wasn’t fine. He wasn’t fine.

And, unfortunately, he didn’t know what to do about it since only one-half of the broken-up couple did not seem to be fine.

#linzin #linzin fanfic

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chyrstis · 3 years

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WIP Friday!

Tagged by the wonderful @johnnycranes @englass @scungilliwoman @adelaidedrubman @lilwritingraven @fadedjacket @faithchel @stacispratt @gamerpurgatory and @prometheas! I hope you all know how much I appreciate these tags over the past week and am glad to finally be able to show off some work I’ve got brewing too! <3

Tagging: @writerofblocks @painterofhorizons @hunnybadgerv @cobb-vanthss @amistrio @shallow-gravy @tommymillers @jackiesarch @geronimo-11 @ma-sulevin @nightwingshero @shellibisshe @redroci @unlikelynick @jackalopestride @chazz-anova @solesurvivorkat @its-jeph @consumedkings @vasiktomis and @aceghosts but no obligation intended at all, especially if you’ve posted snippets recently.

I’ll start this off with a little bit from the No Cult AU, b/c I’m so close to getting this one done now and I’ve really missed this verse too. Just a bridging section’s needed, so here’s Sharky trying to say hi to Joseph in the meantime.

---

They’d made it, and sure, he was short one hell of a heroic kiss for a job well done, but he was still feeling pretty good about pulling it off to begin with, and after a few handshakes and sloppy fistbumps later, was ready to get back to the reason he’d been on the road to begin with. Making sure every speaker down at Moonflower was able to sing.

He whistled, picking back up on the beat he’d settled on earlier, only to have it quickly reach a pitch only dogs could hear when he caught Joseph Seed heading towards him.

“Charlemagne,” he called out, greeting him, “this is a pleasant surprise.”

He picked his jaw up, clamping his mouth shut for a few seconds, before finally working his way to a proper response. “Uh, yo.”

“Is John with you?”

“John? Nah, he’s-we’re not on for today. Probably off flying, or doing you know, lawyer stuff. Dotting Is and crossing Ts, shaking hands and smiling all big and wide while talking to people so they think you’re listening to ‘em, like you do.”

Joseph folded his hands in front of him, and hummed in response even though he’d started frowning a bit.

“But anyway, I uh, in case you’re wondering why I’m here, I caught a couple of your people on the side of the road. Was going towards Moonflower to get my set up ready for some fresh tunes, ‘cause the last time I was there the wires shorted, probably had something chewing on them when I wasn’t looking, but they’d pulled over. I saw they needed a hand and helped ‘em get here. Didn’t even have to piss in the radiator to do it either.”

“That’s-“ Joseph was definitely giving him a look that reminded him almost straight up of John, but shook it off. “Fortunate…?”

---

I’m definitely still plugging away at the Trap fic too, so here’s a part that I’m hoping to get to within the next few chapters? *crosses fingers*

---

“Give me all of their names, one by one.”

They were listed off. Repeated each without a single tremor.

“Have any of them transferred to the plant within the last month?”

“Yes.”

Hana’s eyebrows climbed up.

“How many?”

“Three members, all of whom are still at the plant. I have their-all of what they’ve packed. Where they’ve transported it, and-”

“And have you at any point before now seen any cause for concern in their behavior? Think very carefully, William. What happens next is going to depend on you.”

The silence that carried through after that stretched long enough for her to think the recording had ended, but she heard a throat clear. A shaky breath, then William’s voice again.

“...Nothing at first. They’ve been hard workers. Reliable. We trusted them, but when they fell behind, they would frequently help each other. That had to have been when the fertilizer was first taken.”

“Early tomorrow, I will need both you and Sister Rebecca at the ready. I don’t want a single word of this to be shared with anyone on the premises, not a single soul, because our little would-be conspirators could get wise, and the last thing we need is to make them aware of it. Now, they could prove to be innocent, that is true, but until then we must be careful. Do you understand?”

“Yes. Yes, Herald.”

“It takes great courage to do this William. To bring these things directly to my attention since these are claims that will not be taken lightly. But until the truth has been found, and we know for certain that our brothers and sisters can be trusted, we will remain vigilant, and and if this proves to be true, you will be rewarded for this. That I promise you.”

---

...And maybe a little something saucy I’ve been poking at for a while for Hana and Sharky on the side? This also jumps way ahead in their fic timeline too since I do feel a bit bad for subjecting these two to so much pining hell in their current one. :’D

---

“Morning,” Hana said, giving him a soft smile.

Cracking open an eye to look at her, a grin settled on Sharky’s lips, and he shifted onto his back so that his face was no longer buried in the pillow clasped between his arms. His hair was sticking out in every direction, and when he scrubbed a hand through it, he messed it up even further.

“Mm, morning.”

It had her breath catching just for a second. Just seeing him damn near beam up at her, when all she’d done was wake him up.

So she took that view in. Smiled right on back as she rethought her original plan, which had been to head down to the cafeteria and sneak them both a couple of cups of coffee to bring back, but she’d forgotten just how nice it was to catch him like this. To wake up on the days when neither of them had an early shift and find him right there next to her.

So, she went through a few options. Turned them over in her mind as she chewed on her lip, and he started to doze off again.

Fisting her hand in the sheet, she pulled it right off of him, and his eyes snapped open.

“Whoa, what the-“

Her shirt was drawn up and over her head after, and whipped to their right. She hadn’t bothered to put on anything else under it, mostly using it to keep the chill off, but she had him now. Crawled up and over him, soaking every last bit of it up as he blinked at her before everything clicked into place.

#wip #I really did want to hop on this Wednesday but with work it's so hard to say when time's open #but always better late than never!#and my next fic goal to finish is the AU darn it #I'd love to get this next one done b/c I've been working on it since at least April I want to say #b/c I've been working on this one since at least...April I want to say?#and that's just ridiculous at this point XD

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nanashiii · 3 years

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Heron x queen!reader

So this is my first fandom contribution ever and even if it sucks I'm happy with it lol, it's kinda of a wip and since english is not my first language...well, it may just worsen the whole thing :,)

@zen-gordon I'm sorry it took so much time to write it 😖😖

↠ Wc: 1.7k

↠ Chapter 1

↠ Warnings: none yet

There was something to be revealed to you, the new queen of the polis, your mother wanted to warn you about who you really are.

She seemed to be delirious that night, it was a celebration, everyone was partying, the Palace in an uproar for some successful hunt or something of the same relevance for the nobles.

"Y/n, my ... daughter, listen to me, please ..." she was disheveled, so different from her usual self, eyes trembling. You thought it was the drink's fault, the wine must have been too strong.

It was a foolish judgment, the queen had been poisoned that same night, during the feast.

You guided her to the royal quarters, your mother's speech becoming more and more vague. And waiting for her to fall asleep, you stared at the night sky.

An eagle watched both of you from the top of a tree, which years before, had been struck by lightning. The bird was abnormally big, aside from the fact that it was nothing nocturnal.

The observation lasted a few minutes - a clash of swords and shields made you jump from the bed, which you have sited next to the queen - the woman lulled into an apparently peaceful sleep.

A maid - Lamia, the queen's most old and loyal lady, entered the room like a gust of wind, her eyes wide and blood on her robes matching her panicked face.

She was crying, her hands trembling as she grabbed yours in an attempt to get you out of the room.

You were on your feet instantly.

"My sweet child." The maid sobbed. "I can't let them kill you too."

"What?!" You felt the air escaping your lungs way too fast.

"The king is dead ... the queen ..." the woman staggered, trying to contain her crying. "Poisoned. There was poison in her food and drinks and ..."

The world seemed to shatter around you, at least, you world, the servant's words becoming distant murmurs. You turned, almost falling on the queen's bed, grabbing a hand that was already cold and purple with some grotesque poison.

Before a scream broke from your throat, someone covered your mouth, dragging you out of the room. You couldn't tell if it was the maid or a guard. Everything looked like a blur between tears, howls and a metallic smell that was beginning to approach.

The guards who remained in the stable placed you at the maid's side upon two black steeds, assuring that they would follow the new queen, you, soon. But first they would need to find the murderer.

The night had never seemed so terrifying to you, but Lamia tightened her knuckles, her eyes red with tears lit by the moon.

"We will take refuge in the Palace of your Aunt, in the neighboring polis." She will give you all the support you need." Lamia said, looking back one last time, you followed her movement.

Something in your heart seemed to sunk, as if someone had staked it there, tears flowed hot, sobs broke out and somehow now your horse was on the trail of the other steed.

It was a nightmare, Phobetor was playing with you.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<

He wasn't.

The next morning was so real that you almost felt ill. Taken by the shock, you arrived at your Aunt's palace in the polis that had heavy rain clouds but, strangely, didn't let not even one drop touch the soil. Even so, nothing seemed to matter at that moment, you were guided to a new room, an aunt dismayed and angry at what they did to her brother, shouted orders to your own remaings guards and when things calmed down days later, she decided that you coronation should be done there and soon.

The aid of a noble should always be questioned, she would probably ask for favors during the next years, but you couldn't even bear the thoughts of dealing with it, so the best option was to ignore your aunt's apparently innocent help.

"My queen, may I suggest something?" Lamia mumbled, she have spent more time by your side since that cursed night.

She couldn't ignore your current state, the sleepless nights and nocturnal fears were claiming it's own price. There were always creeping nightmares waiting for you, so the wandering nights inside your aunt's palace seemed much more appealing than a nightmare filled sleep. Soon both of you would need to go back to your truly palace, it seemed that your aunt's mercy was coming to an end more quickly than what you have expected.

"What is it?" You didn't even blinked an eye as you replied to the maid, one commotion down the plebe stands catching your attention as the sound of shouting voices started to reach your ears.

It seemed like a group of men harassing a lonely woman - well she looked a bit like an outcaster there, with everyone turning their eyes to the explicit violence against her.

"A guard's switch, my queen." Lamia approached your side.

What was making her so absorbed after all? The servant questioned herself, seeing nothing but a normal day at the polis.

"I think that, with a personal guard selected by yourself will bring you some peace, most nobles do this when they ascend to the throne" Lamia explained.

When the woman was brutally pushed by one of the five men, an young man appeared, he came running and as fast as he reached the group, he punched and even used a knife at some point. Almost slicing someone's throat.

He helped the woman to rise again, with some caution.

The two left, disappearing from your view.

I may need warriors like this one.

No...

I need this one.

He was ...

"I accept your suggestion, Lamia, can you organize everything so I can meet and choose them during the next week?"

"Of course my dear queen, I'll start it immediately." Lamia bowed, now questioning what could possibly have happened for the queen's complexion to light up. Nonetheless what has caused it she was glad for.

"And Lamia, make sure that they know about how generous the new queen is when it comes to payments."

"Yes, I'll be sure they hear about it" the servant bowed a second time and then left you, it didn't take too much time to another servant to come and replace her.

Your thoughts seemed to run more wildly as the day passed by.

The sudden attraction to the man made you question yourself, was it because he was the one who made you wake up from an aphatic state?

You weren't sure.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

Zeus, in this case and in this form, Elias, was once again wandering drunkenly through the streets of the polis, enjoying the few pleasures that an old mortal could give himself and also maintaining his disguise.

He had overheard the conversation of one of the servants of the new queen, queen who was Demeter's and a mortal's daughter mortal which the goddess decided to deny the existence, handing her daughter over to a sterile human queen.

A demigod, just like his own son.

The two shared a strangely similar past, even when it came to traumatizing nights.

The disguised god walked back to his lover and son's home, the new queen's offer was too tempting for Heron to refuse, no matter how stubborn he could be. He had declined Alexia's offer, and perhaps the regret would make him choose right this time.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<

Lamia had organized everything just as the queen asked, her aunt did not hide the relief that you were leaving soon and wandered happily around the room in which the three of you were.

"The men in my polis make great guards, excellent warriors." the mourning for her brother had dissipated quickly, and it also increased your desire to leave that place, now the cloudy clouds seemed to worsen your mood.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<

You were waiting for them inside a kind of canopy like bed, Lamia had murmured something about only the selected ones seeing your face. It was a strange security issue and the day was particularly hot making you hate the stupid idea even more. But there was something, making your afternoon a little more tolerable.

The chance of seeing him again.

A few remaining men from your old guard positioned themselves near the door and soon it was opened, the first candidate entering the room, an undoubtedly strong man, but it wasn't the one you're seeking to see.

Your frustration almost materialized right there, and a doubt arose, what made you believe that he would appear?

As you were selecting the most competent ones, or at least apparently competent, your hope of seeing him again was being drained as the hours passed by, soon you would have to leave the polis and perhaps you should have to accept the fact that you would not see him again.

Besides, as a new queen there would be more important things to deal with, and soon this sudden...

The door opened again, the last one to be chosen and you had to control yourself not to tear the canopy.

It was him.

You were silent for a while, observing every possible detail through the fine fabric, his frame but what has made you literally frozen were his eyes - a vibrant blue, as if the sky and the ocean were inside those irises.

"My queen?" A servant called, waking you from your almost trance.

You composed yourself. Continuing with the same questions I had repeated so many times earlier.

"Your name?"

"It's Heron."

"Well Heron, you must already know I'm not from this polis, even so, are you willing to work as one of my guards?"

Tension filled your brain, after all he could simply deny it, you remembered the woman he helped, could she possibly be a relative?

He stayed silent for some seconds, his face was doubt itself but soon with was replaced by calm and determination.

"Yes, I'm willing too." Heron replied.

"Great." your response didn't matched the sheer happiness that you were feeling. You proceeded with the other questions about what weapon could he wield, combat experience...

You weren't really listening to Heron's answers, still mesmerized simply by seeing him close enough, even so, you managed to inform him that you all would be departing soon and he should prepare for doing so.

"You can go now."

He left the room and so did you, watching from a safe distance as he kept walking down the aisle, there was definitely something different about him.

Something that seemed weirdly familiar to you.

What was it?

#Heron #Blood of zeus

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weathereyehorizon · 2 years

Note

Valentine!

Hi! It’s me again! I’m trying to make up for lost time this week! Or maybe I’m feeling a bit more like Claire and just being random…😆.

Bring on the ridiculous fic! Sometimes you just need to laugh! I love a dramatic David when he’s just overexaggerating over something ridiculous. Do you have a favorite fic that you’ve written?

I completely understand why you don’t read WIPs. I do read WIPs when I have time. It would be insanely hypocritical of me to be anti-WIP since I may have one or two floating out in the universe. I’m actively working on finishing one now because honestly, I hate that they are just hanging out there. I have vowed to never publish a WIP once these are done. Next time I’ll at least have them roughly drafted so all I need to do is edit and then I can post on a fairly consistent basis.

Do you have a favorite show that you’re binging currently? I honestly don’t watch a ton of TV. Hubby and I are trying to catch up on a few series from COVID times not realizing they started airing again. Right now we’re watching New Amsterdam. We lost a season with COVID and can’t find it anywhere so I can’t help, but feel lost. I haven’t found a series to grab me since SC.

Yes, I see David doing more cooking in the cottage. Marcy gives him secret little cooking lessons that he surprises Patrick with. Takes David a while to come clean and share where he learned his vast array of knowledge in the kitchen.

I can do the texting skin and have used a few letter skins, but I absolutely love fics that can pull off the social media posts. That is a level of skin expertise I have not reached. We have so much talent in this fandom!! What do you think about fic art? Like banners or fic collages?

TGIF Valentine! Hope you have a wonderful evening and an even better weekend!

Talk soon!

😘

Hi Valentine! ❤️

Lovely to hear from you again! 😁

It's so hard to choose a favourite fic that I've written. I really love my Stevie & Patrick are Buds series because it's just such an ongoing passion project. They don't get a tonne of views because they're gen fics, so they really feel like something I truly write for myself. As for D/P fics, it all depends on the day. But, today I'll say Good Enough. I love Canadian music and song fics, and even though this one is one of the earlier things I wrote, it's soft and still like it very much.

I still binge SC often. I have a regular weekly watch party that I do with pals, as well as just popping on the odd comfort episode when the mood strikes. I've recently been bullied talked into watching 911, and now have also just started Lone Star. I also LOVE the olympics, so that's what I'll be binging for the next couple of weeks! ⛷️

I'm so impressed whenever anyone can do any kind of skins in their fic. It's my goal to learn how to do! As for fic art like banners and collages, I really like them, and play around with them a bit. If I want a decent looking one though, I talk nicely to one of my friends to make it for me. LOL!

It's been nice chatting with you today, Valentine. Talk to you soon!

~ weather 💛

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callboxkat · 4 years

Text

Just Your Average Ghost Hunt

Author’s note: I felt like writing a one-shot today, taking a break from my longer WIPs, and here’s the result! I hope you all enjoy.

Summary: Virgil has a YouTube channel where he talks about cryptids and conspiracy theories. Tonight, he sets out with his friend Roman on a ghost hunt.

Warnings: ghosts, talk of death and murder, some crude humor, fear, Remus

Word Count: 1818

Writing Masterpost!

...

“You remembered the camera, right?”

“Wha—of course I remembered the camera! Come on, give me a little credit.”

“And it’s charged?”

Roman pouted at him, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

Virgil smirked, hopping out of the car. “Just checking.”

“It’s your camera, isn’t charging it your job?”

“Knowing you, you’d happily run down the battery before we even got here, with all those selfies you take.”

“That’s what my phone’s for,” Roman claimed, jutting out his chin. He slung the camera strap around his neck, double checking that it was secure.

“Oh, I see.”

“We’re not going to get in trouble for coming here, are we?” Roman asked, following after his friend and staring up the road.

“What, are you scared, Princey?”

“No, I just—”

“Because if you’re scared,” Virgil sighed dramatically, “we can go, I guess, but you have to be the one to tell Logan we still haven’t gotten his proof of ghosts. It’s your fault if he thinks we just couldn’t find it.”

Roman huffed. “What is it with you and proving to him that ghosts are real, anyway, Winnie the Boo? Isn’t talking about cryptids and conspiracies more your usual gig?”

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Is that really the best nickname you can come up with? Wow, you really must be scared.”

“What, we’re on a ghost hunt, aren’t we? And don’t avoid the question!”

Virgil rolled his eyes, closing the car door. He took out a flashlight and switched it on, casting their surroundings in high relief. “I wasn’t, calm down. I just want to see the look on the dude’s face when we show him actual video of a ghost.”

The pair’s boots crunched on gravel, twigs, and assorted debris as they began the trek up the long-disused road towards their destination. “So,” Roman asked as they clambered over a fallen tree, “what are you going to do if we can’t find one?”

“I have Photoshop.”

“Well—then why are we even out here? Just photoshop yourself up a ghost and be done with it, Wail-E!”

“That nickname was even worse. And besides—” Virgil hopped down, reaching up to help Roman, whose jacket had gotten caught on a snapped branch— “this is way more fun.”

“Speak for yourself,” Roman grumbled, inspecting his coat for damage.

“Come on, it’s not that far now.” Virgil started forward, flashlight held high. Roman scrambled after, not about to be left behind.

“I don’t like this.” Roman peered around at the surrounding trees, whose shapes and shadows seemed to warp as they passed, reaching towards the pair like spindly arms ready to drag them into the dark.

“I didn’t ask you to come. I’ve done plenty of these without you.”

“You’ve done plenty of these with Janus,” Roman corrected. “In our friends’ houses. Not in the middle of nowhere.”

“I wasn’t going to put this off just because he’s got a stomach bug. It’s supposed to rain all next week.”

Roman swallowed. “And I wasn’t about to let you come to some old abandoned house alone.”

Virgil turned, putting a hand on his chest and grinning. “My hero. Now turn on the camera, I see the house up there.”

Roman squinted, and saw that, in fact, he could make out the shape of some kind of structure ahead. It looked like it was practically part of the forest now, trees grown around it and nearly obscuring the shape in the darkness.

“Welcome to Virgil and Roman’s final moments,” Roman said, turning on the camera slung around his neck, “documented for all those who want to see us torn apart by crazy woods people, or bears, or wolves, or, possibly, ghosts.”

“Very funny,” Virgil said.

“Well, aren’t you going to say anything?” Roman said. “I don’t know, set the scene.”

“Kind of hard to do that when you keep talking, isn’t it?”

Roman stuck his tongue out.

Virgil turned to face the camera. “My name is Virgil, and the lug behind the camera is my friend Roman. Tonight, we’ve got a treat. We’re visiting an abandoned house, deep in the woods.”

Roman silently shook his head, amused at the exaggeration. The nearest major road was only a ten minute walk away.

“Legend says it’s been abandoned since the 50’s—”

“Is Wikipedia where you heard this “legend”?”

“Shut up, Princey. And no, it’s not, actually. Will you let me continue?”

Roman held up his free hand in surrender.

“Legend says it’s been abandoned since the 50’s, but no one had been able to stay in the house for more than a few months at a time even before that. Apparently, there was a murder here decades earlier, and the ghost of that person has haunted the place ever since.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Roman and I are here to get the first solid proof of this ghost, and share its existence with all of you.”

“I’m sure YouTube will love it.”

“I am so glad I can edit out all your dumb comments.”

“You know you love them, Count Woe-laf.”

“You’re going to make me wish I’d waited to come with J, I just know it. Just make sure you’re holding the camera steady.”

Roman smiled innocently, then turned the camera up to focus on the house.

“We’ve just arrived,” Virgil said, “And are about to head inside. Wish us luck.”

“Virge, you know this isn’t live, right?”

“Yes, Roman, I know that,” Virgil said. “Let me put in a little flair, okay?”

“I must be rubbing off on you.”

Virgil ignored this comment and approached the house, peering around the crumbling façade of the dilapidated structure. “It looks like the front door is padlocked, but this window is broken. We can put one of our jackets on the sill and climb in.”

“Wait—whose jacket, Virge?” Roman stepped back, clutching his own protectively.

“Oh, relax,” he said, rolling his eyes as he shrugged off his own jacket.. “Some of us thought better than to bring our favorite jacket on a ghost hunt.”

“If that roof collapses on us, I don’t want cheap plastic all that’s protecting me.”

“I’m pretty sure a jacket won’t save you if the roof collapses; but go off, I guess.”

“Thank you; I will.”

Virgil laid his jacket over the window sill and hopped inside. Roman climbed in after him, turning on his own smaller flashlight and looking around warily.

Dust motes hung in the air, which smelled of mildew. A few pieces of furniture remained in the house, each covered in a sheet that might have once been white. The space had not been spared from the elements. Weeds even grew between some of the rotting floor boards.

“I know this is where I’d want to live, if I were a ghost,” Roman commented dryly, eyeing a grimy puddle that had collected in a fold of one of the sheets.

“Ghosts are tied to places where they died, or to objects that were important to them. Or their body. Odds are, this ghost has no choice but to live here.”

Roman sighed. “Okay, anyway. How are we proving there’s a ghost here?”

Virgil slung off his backpack and pulled out a wooden board. “We’ll start with this. It’s a Ouija board.”

“A Ouija board?”

“Yeah. It channels spiritual energy and lets them talk to us.”

“I know what a Ouija board is,” Roman sighed. “I was just… I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you brought one.”

Virgil sat down on the floor, beginning to set up the board. “Set up the tripod, so it can see both of us and the board. You sit across from me.”

Roman did as Virgil asked, then sat across from him. Each perched his fingertips atop the small, triangular piece of wood with a hole in it, which Virgil said was called a planchette. They slowly brought the planchette around in a circle, with Virgil narrating what they were doing and why, probably for the less supernatural-versed Youtube fans. Then Virgil said some mumbo-jumbo words about positive energy and communication, whatever; and then they finally they got to the questions.

“Is there a spirit with us in this house?”

There was a long pause, long enough that Roman started to think that maybe Logan had the right idea, before the planchette slid over to Yes.

That was you, wasn’t it, Virgil?

Virgil was trying to hide a grin. “How many spirits are here with us?”

“What’s your name?”

The planchette slid over to B.

“Brandon? Bethany? Bella? Benjamin?”

“…Buford? Bucky?”

Virgil frowned. “Butler?”

Roman bit his lip to keep from laughing.

“Roman, stop messing with the planchette,” Virgil snapped.

Roman made an indignant noise. “I didn’t!”

“Spirit, I apologize for my friend. What is your name?”

B-U-T-T-H-O-L-E.

“Maybe it doesn’t want to tell us,” Roman said, shrugging and trying not to laugh.

Virgil was starting to look exasperated.

“Maybe it’s a kid. How old are you?” he asked.

“You’re six years old?” Virgil’s mouth opened. “That’s so y…”

The planchette moved again, interrupting him.

“69,” Virgil repeated. “Okay, maybe not a kid.” He glanced at Roman, looking suspicious, as if wondering whether he’d changed the results again. Roman pouted at him in response.

“How did you die?”

“Wow, that’s pretty personal, isn’t it?” Roman asked. “Ask it how it’s doing, at least.”

Virgil sighed. “They don’t usually stick around for long, Roman.” Then seemingly deciding to humor him, he asked, “Spirit, how are you?”

Yes.

“Well, that’s… an answer,” Roman said. Maybe the Ouija board was broken or something.

“How did you die?” Virgil asked, repeating his earlier question.

The planchette hovered for a few seconds.

K-N-I-V-E-S.

Roman swallowed.

“Oh.” Virgil shifted. “What year did that happen?”

4-2-0.

“Roman, seriously, stop.”

“I swear, it’s not me.”

“Fine, then let’s try again. What year did you die?”

D-E-A-D.

“Yes, you died,” Virgil said. “Do you remember what year that happened?”

Y-O-U A-R-E D-E-A-D.

Roman’s eyes widened. Virgil wouldn’t have done that, would he? “Um, Virge? I think maybe we should leave.”

“Are… are you a good spirit?” Virgil asked, his voice uncertain.

No.

The lights above flared into life, far, far too bright, like small suns. They shouldn’t have worked, even if they were still connected to power, or had the bulbs replaced in the past decade. Wind rushed through the room from an invisible source, the temperature dropping.

POP!

The light above them burst, sending sparks falling around them. The rest of the lights followed in rapid succession. The tripod fell over as if pushed, crashing to the ground between the pair and sending up a cloud of dust.

Roman and Virgil screamed, scrambling for the exit, pushing each other through the window, back into the woods. They raced back towards the car, both the camera and Virgil’s jacket forgotten.

Hysterical, cackling laughter followed them through the trees.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #ts sides #ts roman #ts virgil #ts remus #ts fanfic #ts fic #fanfiction #sanders sides fan fiction #just your average ghost hunt fic

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kikis-writing-world · 4 years

Text

First, Time

Summary: Agent Whiskey meets an aspiring Statesman Agent.

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Female OC (Future Agent Brandy)

Word Count: >1500

Rating/Warnings: PG, but overall SFW - Whiskey has some dirty thoughts.

Author’s Note: I Have an idea in my head for a Statesman OC, Agent Brandy. Lots of random head canons and blips in her story have come to me, but honestly I thought they’d just live in my head. Well turns out, as I struggled with any other WIPs, this came so easily to me, that I think Agent Brandy is begging to be let out. I hope you enjoy?

Agent Whiskey was strolling through the secure lab floor at the Statesmen Distillery, having just finished an exercise to calibrate his electric lasso and whip. The test had gone off without a hitch and resulted in readings that could only serve to improve future versions of his beloved weapons - not to mention he got to show off his inimitable skills which always put him in a good mood. It was already a successful morning when he saw the woman step off the elevator.

He slowed his gait, taking the time to drink her in before she noticed him. Her brown hair cascaded over her shoulders in an easy wave, reminding him of summer days spent on the beach. A white tee shirt was covered by a brown, long vest that framed her - deliciously supply, if he did say so himself - chest. Her blue jeans looked to be painted on, and the only thing he wanted to know more than how she’d poured herself into them, was what he’d have to do to get her out of them. He watched as she glanced left and right nervously, the plan of swooping in as her hero quickly forming in his head.

“Now I don’t know who you’re lookin’ for Sunshine, but I sure hope I can help.” He drawled as he saddled up to her with a charming grin.

Her eyes widened, turning to fully face him. Her long eyelashes fluttered slightly under his attention as her luscious lips parted in surprise. “Oh my word, are you- Are you Agent Whiskey?”

He preened under her attention, taking off his hat and holding it to his chest. “Why yes, yes I am.” He held his hand out for her, which she took and shook in a hurry.

“Wow, it’s an honor to meet you, Sir.” She gushed. He let her shake his hand for a moment before he ceased the motion by bringing the back of her hand up to his lips. He watched with a gleam in his eye as she flushed, those eyelashes fluttering all over again.

“Pleasure’s all mine, I promise you that.” His voice dripped with honey as his lips grazed against the back of her hand. “But you have me at a disadvantage, darlin’. What would your name be?” He asked as he gently let her hand fall, placing his hat back atop his head.

“Oh, uh… Well, actually I’m an Agent in training.” She smiled proudly. “I’d tell you, but hopefully in a few more weeks that won't be my name at all.” She giggled, brushing her hair back behind her ear.

“Well then I guess I’ll just have to keep callin’ you Sunshine, cause I’ll be damned if you didn’t brighten my day.” He was laying it on thick, but she sure was eating it up with a blush and another giggle.

“I should go…” She bit her lip, taking a small step away from him.

“I wouldn’t want to keep you. You need to be gettin’ top marks so I can keep seein’ that pretty smile ‘round here.”

“I’ll do my best,” she promised with a smile, starting to walk away backwards so she could keep her eyes trained on his form. “Thank you for your valuable time, Agent Whiskey.”

“Anything for you, Sunshine.” He winked just in time before she turned down the hallway. He leaned against the wall as he watched her go, eyes glued to her ass.

“Hate to see her go,” he mumbled to himself with a smirk, not finishing the saying out loud. Once she was out of sight, he carried on to his office to continue with his day. Thoughts of Sunshine, as he had nicknamed her, popped into his head periodically throughout the day. Remembering the way she would bat her eyelashes under his attentions, or how silky her hair looked as it moved. He wanted to find out for himself if it felt as soft as it looked. He’d nearly made it through the day - losing more time than he’d like to admit thinking of her - when Champ summoned him to his office.

“Agent Whiskey,” Champ greeted with a nod and tight grin. “Drink?”

“I’ll take whatever you’re havin’.” He answered easily, sitting in the chair across Champ’s desk. Champ nodded cordially, turning to his bar to pour them each a glass of Statesmen Whiskey.

“Much obliged,” Whiskey thanked as he was handed the tumbler. “Although I have to guess you didn’t call me in here just to share a drink.”

Champ sipped the amber liquid, a soft hum of pleasure from deep in his chest at the smoothness of it. “You’d be right about that, Agent.” He agreed, but didn’t elaborate right away. Whiskey was interested, but not yet concerned. He hadn’t done anything to warrant any trouble lately. At least not that he could think of.

“Heard you met one of our newer recruits earlier today.” Champ finally elaborated, his eyebrow quirking at Whiskey.

The man couldn’t stop the grin from crossing his face at the mention of the woman that had been on his mind most of the day. He tried to cover it with a sip of the premium alcohol before he could answer.

“I may have.” He acknowledged, not giving too much away.

“I hear you were quite taken with her.”

“No more than any warm blooded man would be.” He brushed it off, adjusting in the plush chair. He’d been forward, true, but he didn’t think it was anything untoward or unwelcomed judging by the way she’d acted.

“Oh, I think it might have been a little bit more than that.” Champ’s grin grew knowingly as he set down his glass, reaching into his desk drawer. The man placed a watch on the desk between them.

The watch was Statesmen issued, a regular part of the uniform. While appearing to be simply a watch, every Agent knew it held several valuable tools and technologies to be used in many situations. A connection to the Statesmen network, a tracking device, sleeper darts, an electro-shock that could be administered in close combat, among other tricks. The black leather band of the watch was scuffed, worn from use. Whiskey looked at it confused, when a particular breeze flit across his wrist that he hadn’t noticed during his day.

Lifting his arm, he cursed as he saw his watch missing from his wrist. “She-”

“You remember that little initiation test, don’t you?” Champ laughed. Of course Whiskey remembered. Late in the many trials they were put through, aspiring agents were instructed to steal something from the Statesmen offices. Nothing of consequence, just something they felt they could get away with. The bigger the haul, the better their score. The test helped assess talents of the hopefuls - stealth, thought process, bravery and/or stupidity - and the feedback was used to strengthen Statesmen security measures.

“That little girl pickpocketed me!” Whiskey cried in anger, mostly at himself for being duped. Champ just laughed harder, passing the man his watch.

“Indeed she did. Top points of her class to boot. Hell, it’s been a while since I’ve seen a score that high.”

“Why that little-” He grumbled under his breath, reattaching the watch firmly to his wrist. He thought back over the encounter, wondering how she’d done it without him noticing. Her final words rang through his memory:

“Thank you for your valuable time, Agent Whiskey.”

“I think she’ll make a good Agent, granted she passes the rest of the training.” Champ pondered aloud over Whiskey’s grumbling. “Swiping a tool right off an Agent, and he doesn’t even notice-”

“I was in the office all day, what need did I have for a watch?” Whiskey countered gruffly.

“I’m looking forward to seeing more of her work.” Champ admitted, knowing not just anyone could make this impression on Agent Whiskey. He couldn’t help but stoke the fires a bit, adding “especially if she keeps gettin’ the drop on you.”

“She... Getting-” Whiskey stuttered as he stood, his glass forgotton on the edge of Champ’s desk. He pointed at Champ as he floundered for words, bringing his fist to his mouth as he choked. “She did not get the drop on me, and it ain’t gonna happen again!” Whiskey stormed out of the office, Champ’s laugh following him through the door.

Tagging: @wickedfrsgrl (thank you for your encouragement to write, and your belief in my skills to even request being on my taglist before I’d even done anything. You beautiful human, you)

#Agent Whiskey x OC #Agent Jack Daniels x OC #Agent Whiskey imagine #Kingsman The Golden Circle fic #Pedro Pascal Character fanfiction #idek what to tag this as for people to find? I'm new here okay? lol #WookieTales #OC: Agent Brandy verse

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mppmaraudergirl · 3 years

Text

I really wanted to start posting my newest WIP but after looking through it again after a couple weeks off, I probably still have another 20k to write before I finish the story I want to tell. I’m admittedly a bit discouraged about it, wondering if I should focus on other projects instead, but then I go through it and find little gems of what is already written and I can’t help but want to carry on so I can share it.

So as some self encouragement, I wanted to share a snippet of Potter Exposed.

Later that evening, James found himself in a place that had become so familiar to him in his youth but he never anticipated he’d frequent so often after graduation. Sirius sat next to him at one of the Three Broomstick’s roomiest booths. It was particularly slow for a Sunday evening there, but neither of them seemed to mind. Sirius nursed his third firewhiskey, and James was still swirling his first brandy as they waited on Rosmerta to come over with their supper. “So when’d you smash the other one?” Sirius asked conversationally, a twinkle in his eye as he nodded at the parcel James had sat down with. “Bout the time Wilkes let in his fourth goal from the Cannon’s third-string Chaser?” “About there, I’d expect,” James said, with a slight shrug. The truth was, he had done no such thing. His wireless was still in one piece sitting where he left it on his desk. Despite being sorely tempted to blast it to pieces while listening to the match earlier this afternoon, he had shown restraint. He let Sirius go on believing as he wished, though he intended no harm to his old wireless model. He’d made the split decision to buy a new one when he arrived early to his planned dinner with Sirius. James had wanted to get a newer model than his aged version for a short while now. “Squandering away your inheritance,” Sirius chastised, breaking the comfortable silence between them. “Monty and Mia will be disappointed when I tell them at tea tomorrow.” James rolled his eyes. “I can afford a new wireless on the salary Dumbledore set.” “Oh yes, the lucrative life a professor. How had I forgotten? In that case, you get the next round, yeah?” “I think you’ve had enough,” James told him seriously. He was met with Sirius’ bark like laugh. “I get it. Need to save up for the next new wireless. Going to be a pretty expensive habit if they keep employing Wilkes. Maybe Abbott will give you a discount for buying multiples. You ought to have gotten more than one if you think you might break it any time Wilkes has a particularly bad game.” James hummed noncommittally, used to Sirius picking at him. “What’s got your wand in a knot?” Sirius asked after another long pause. “Nothing, Padfoot. Just tired is all.” He fiddled with the hem of his sweater, his drink forgotten in front of him. “Extra lessons with the seventh years. Going well, but taking up my already limited free time.” Sirius nodded, his lips pursued. “You’re a great professor, Prongs. Much better than I expected, to be honest. Snogged fewer girls than I expected as well.” “Git,” James said, rolling his eyes, just as Rosmerta came into view with their plates. James hadn’t realized how hungry he was until his stomach growled happily at the sight of her. After a cheeky, flirtatious interaction between Rosmerta and Sirius, which James had gotten used to ignoring over the years, they fell into the comfortable silence that usually accompanied a delicious meal.

#potter exposed #coming soon... i hope #D:#i cut out a paragraph with a plot point #the exclusion of which makes this look pretty uneventful #but nevertheless a small enjoyable moment between pads and prongs

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zmwrites · 3 years

Text

tag: 20 first lines

I was tagged by @teasenpaiwrites! Thank you!

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20 stories just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag others!

I was tagged in a similar game LITERALLY forever ago by @scmalarky PRE-BLOG MOVE, which makes it the oldest tag game sitting my drafts. It came with the following rules:

Rules: list the first lines of your last ten published stories. note if there are any patterns yourself and see if anyone else notices any! tag ten friends!

I put it off bc to date I’ve only published two stories over on Wattpad. So doing the first lines from the last twenty projects is somehow...easier? I suppose?

I’ll be putting the opening paragraph or so of each piece, and will only be using WIPs that I actually started at the beginning. Anything that doesn’t start at the actual beginning will be skipped.

Anyways, this is going under a cut bc I know it’s going to be ridiculously long. In order of ‘last modified by me’ as per Google Docs:

Remnants

Radka had been a seamstress in a previous life. Trained from childhood on the most delicate stitches, the most intricate embellishments. She had worked for royalty, sewing crystals and spun gold into skirts for the biggest social events of the year. Her steady hand and attention to detail had earned her a job in the palace by fourteen, and a spot on the queen’s personal seamstress team by fifteen. But that was years in the past. The girl she had been then, demure and innocent, wouldn’t recognize the woman she had grown up to be.

Open Seas

Theresia Bowen sat in the back of one of her family carriages, forehead pressed against the window as she watched the countryside fly past. The sky stretched on forever above her, interrupted only by the occasional wispy white clouds, and the spring sun had melted the snow from the hills to her left. The grass was still struggling to grow but was scattered in patches across the mud. To her right, the sea rolled and waved to the horizon. Ships dotted the deep blue, their sails bright and full with wind. Most were trading ships, a few navy, and the smallest of them all were pleasure ships. It was how she knew they were close to her destination.

Indigo Wars

Violet Colby sat cross-legged on her narrow bed in the room she shared with her two sisters at Osbrick Estate. The name was a holdover from the property’s previous life as a stately home, though not much else had carried over. The walled compound was nestled in the eastern sands of Edristan, less than two kilometres west of the capital city, with sun-bleached buildings that housed several dozen orphans and foundlings.

Pine Hollow

It was a miserable Monday morning, with dark, heavy clouds masking the rising sun and a steady rain pounding the town of Pine Hollow and the surrounding area. The dirt trails through the dense forest were slick with mud, the tire ruts becoming puddles and the puddles becoming proper ponds. It was as far from ideal body hunting conditions as possible without snow, but Virginia Crane had a job to do and she wasn’t about to let some adverse weather stop her.

Rochester WIP

The wedding was supposed to begin in five minutes and the bride was nowhere to be found.

Evelyn Rochester, for her part, was not surprised. Her sister Dorothea had claimed a headache a week earlier to get out of a family outing and had been gone by the time they’d returned. A small chest and a collection of her clothing had been gone as well. Their parents had made inquiries to some family friends but no one had seen Dottie, and at twenty-six she was allowed to do as she pleased, so they’d been left to wait to see if she’d return.

Just Jane

Jane rolled over in the narrow bed, pressing her face into the pillow as though it would make it any easier to sleep. Even as she breathed in the warm, sweet scent of the bed owner’s favourite perfume—myrrh, rose, styrax, and marjoram—a new sound made her ears prick to attention.

UNSS Spectre

The spacecraft glided through the void, following its prey silently. It was using its minimum operating power, leaving the two inside to perform their duties without overhead or emergency lighting. Only the glow of their instruments illuminated the interior of the craft.

“Cloaking device operating as normal,” Ensign Graecyn Ramsey said. She didn’t need to provide verbal updates since Captain Mezei could see everything that she could see and there was no one else aboard the tiny stealth class craft, but it was habit and she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

Fissures

Katherine Delacroix was seething. It was hard enough trying to get a gaggle of thirteen to eighteen year old girls to focus under normal circumstances but having the #1 most eligible bachelor of the school just hanging out at the back of the auditorium was making it nearly impossible. To make matters worse, the attention paid to the blond was bruising the egos of the boys in the group and she was painfully aware of how desperately the musical needed them not to quit. They already had a female Cogsworth and Le Fou; they didn't have enough girls with deep voices to play Gaston or Lumiere or, god forbid, Beast.

Snapshots

“Are you still looking for a roommate?” Misha asked, voice muffled slightly by whatever she was doing on the opposite end of the phone.

“You mean since you stole my last one? Yes,” Micah replied. He was stuck in traffic on his commute home from work, something his twin sister Misha knew, which was why she’d called when he had no excuse not to talk to her. It wasn’t that he didn’t like talking to her, he just wasn’t much of a talker.

“You’re gonna have to get over that,” she said.

The Tournament

The coin spun in lazy circles on the table, defying every law of physics. Izora Graham watched it with one hand held in a claw-like position over it. She didn't need to but it made it easier to cover the coin should anyone watch it too closely. The bar was still fairly empty so early in the evening and she was tucked away in the back booth away from the few early birds sitting at the counter, however any displays of magic would bring unwanted attention. Especially something that could be useful to any of the Upper Houses like her telekinesis.

Noyama Contest

Earthens had spread across dozens of galaxies once they’d perfected faster-than-light travel, and hundreds of solar systems within those galaxies. PT-759 was one of the galaxies they’d colonized only to find that it was already inhabited. It had ended up working out alright though, as the native species had radically different planetary needs and also happened to find Earthens downright adorable.

Naetov was a smaller planet at the edge of Federation-controlled space in PT-759. It had a few key cities where government funding was funneled to keep them perfect for non-Earthen tourists. Those cities were clean and friendly, open spaces and carefully maintained flora making up the downtown cores, streamlined designs and shiny surfaces giving the impression of a planet on the cusp of significance.

Gossamer Girl

It was the first day of winter and things were already looking bad. Even though the cold weather had held off for an extra two weeks, the harvest had been poor. A mold had festered in their southern field during the wet spring and had spread quickly. They’d razed the infected sections as soon as the fungus had been discovered but it had already destroyed a large swath of plants. They’d lost nearly a quarter of their usual yield and the troubles had only spiralled from there.

Knotted Strings

The room was just a bit too cold to be comfortable. The walls were wood panelled with some sort of reddish wood that matched the flooring. Rows of chairs with collapsible desks filled most of the lecture hall, with the front of the room dominated by a whiteboard and a table. The professor, hawkish in appearance, was perched on a bar stool facing the students and overlooking the table.

Tess lounged in her seat at the table at the front of the room, notebook open on the table in front of her and pen moving deftly across the page. She watched her competition critically as he spoke. His argument was solid enough to cast reasonable doubt on her case, or it would have been had he bothered to address a small piece of evidence she found to be damning. He finished his conclusion to a spatter of applause and returned to his seat across from her.

“Well done, Mr. Wynn. Miss Kinney, would you like a few moments to prepare your rebuttal?” the professor asked.

“No, I’m good,” Tess replied. She sat up, scribbled a note in her book, and then pushed the book across the table.

Oh, Ophelia

Alexis lounged in the shade next to the pool, sipping a daiquiri and considering her next move. She’d been using the same identity for nearly fifteen years and the neighbours were starting to get suspicious. With all the new beauty products and surgeries available to people of her wealth it was easier to convince people she was nearing forty when she was in the body of a twenty-three year old, but now she had to deal with people asking for her skincare routines and her doctors and the identity wasn’t worth all of the research she was having to do. She was getting sick of Malibu anyways, what with the yearly forest fires that got closer each year. She missed the deep-rooted history of Europe, the memories she had in all of the major cities, the people like her who were still living in their castles and manors pretending like the world hadn’t left them behind.

Bloodlines

Ten of Wands. The Tower. Two of Swords.

Morrigan Keeling sat on the floor of her bedroom, chewing the end of a pen and staring intently at the tarot cards spread in front of her. It was a simple three card spread to indicate how her day was going to go: a card to describe herself, one to indicate what was going to greet her, and another to show the outcome of the situation. She’d gotten into the habit of doing it every day while living at home, and even five years after moving out she found it a relaxing routine to start the day.

The day’s cards, however, were not very relaxing.

PerDeA

The backseat of the car was dark, only illuminated for short intervals by the orange glow of the streetlights. Two figures sat across from each other in the shifting light. In the backwards-facing seat on the driver’s side was PerDeA. Her dark hair was pulled tightly into a ponytail, lips slightly parted as she stared unblinking out the back window. Shoulders square, back straight, chin up, hands folded neatly in her lap, her breathing perfectly rhythmic; she would have looked human if not for the faintly glowing cybernetic blue rings superimposed over her black eyes.

Westhaven

Her eyes were open but she couldn’t see anything. There were mechanical sounds ‒ beeping, whirring ‒ all around her, and voices too far away for her to understand. The sharp smell of antiseptic and the softer detergent scent beneath it.

“Initiate optical system,” a muted female voice instructed. Between one breath and the next she started processing visual information: bright white lights above her, the featureless ceiling beyond, her own nose and eyelashes. She couldn’t move her head to see much else. Walls that matched the ceiling so well it was hard to tell where one became the other, bits of the bed she was on with its bleachable white sheets and side rails.

“Increase tactile responsivity by fifty percent and disengage the motion inhibitors.”

Pro Patria Mori

She sat on the narrow bed with her packed suitcase next to her. Her blonde hair was pinned back, her blue eyes fixed on a spot next to the door, her hands folded neatly in her lap. The winter chill clung like burrs to the house, helped by the heavy spring rain that beat against the window in a staccato rhythm. Outside, trees bowed under the charcoal sky. The old house creaked and groaned around her, the wind whistling and wailing as the storm continued to batter the country estate. She waited.

At any moment there would be a knock on the main door of the house. Godfrey, the aged and shuffling butler, would answer. Standing on the other side would be some men in crisp uniforms, holding up her picture and asking if he knew her. She had seen them in town the evening before, and it wouldn’t take more than a day before someone pointed them in the right direction. They looked like military men but there was something different in their manner, something sharper. Godfrey would lead them up, and up, and up, until they reached her third floor apartment. The butler would introduce them, she would smile politely, and she would leave with them without a fight.

The Clocktower

Astra hated Capperham. The way it sprawled its squalor from border to border, from the sea in the west to the battlements in the other three directions. The harbour reeked of dead fish and unwashed human, the slums of sickness and stale beer. Even the neighbourhoods of rich merchants and factory owners lay under the thick smog of black soot the mines and mills spat out day and night. The grit and dirt was part of everything, so deeply ingrained that even the most rigorous scrubbing couldn’t make something clean.

Stars Incline Us

The Christmas gala was in full swing. The entire ballroom was full of people Pippa didn’t know, all wearing fancy clothes that probably cost more than her rent. Her own dress was aubergine and a simple V-neck, form-fitting enough to be attractive but loose enough to not draw too much attention.

She and another girl who didn’t seem to know anyone at the event were chatting with Antero and Mr. Rabinoff near the edge of the dance floor. Antero was already antsy to leave despite the dinner having just ended, but Mr. Rabinoff had trapped him in a debate he was too proud to back down from. The other girl was from legal and either found them hilarious or had had a little too much to drink because she kept giggling, leaving Pippa no choice but to laugh along while adding the occasional remark to the back and forth between the men.

That brings us all the way back to October 2016. Which tells me that I need to start at the beginning of more stories haha. If anyone has questions about any of these, please feel free to ask. Also, if you read all of that, you are a saint and a hero and have my eternal friendship.

I tag @the-writing-avocado, @radiowrites, @pigeon-hold, @sleepyowlwrites, @akindofmagictoo, and anyone else who wants to share their projects!! As always, no pressure (to play or to read this whole post lmao).

#tag games #about me

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xadoheandterra · 3 years

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Title: Kismet; Lacuna Fandom: Dishonored Chapters: I | II Characters: Billie Lurk, Daud, Thomas, Corvo Attano, Pieor Joplin Tags: Time Travel, unspecified throat injury, temporarily mute character, Post Death of the Outsider, WIP, AU, Present Dishonored, discussions of void powers Summary: He felt twisted sick, the air refused to stay in his lungs and his throat burned fiercely. He couldn’t speak when for so long all he had were his words. He couldn’t feel aside from cold familiarity that had been his life for so long…and his name–he knew it, it was there in the tip of his tongue, on the edge of his thoughts, and yet it was gone again. Taken from him. Stolen, yet not. The Void churned within him, but it was wrong. He hadn’t felt like this in two years. He hadn’t–this was all wrong. The Outsider was dead; he wasn’t the Outsider anymore. Wasn’t he?

Billie Lurk wakes up on her bed in the old Commerce Building ten days before her exile from the Whalers. She has a void eye and a void arm that only she can see, memories of events that haven’t happened, powers she can’t explain, and a connection to a boy who had once been an Eldritch whale deity whose name she knew but cannot speak, cannot think. Something had gone horribly wrong and the path of destiny irrevocably changed.

Thomas pulled Daud aside; Billie had been under Fisher's care for a few hours now and the man couldn't focus on the reports that a few of the Whaler's had brought in for the life of him. Thomas could understand it--Billie wasn't like herself at all, earlier. She'd woken late, which was unusual but could've been chalked up to having overworked herself the night before on some errand as Daud's second. No, the real kicker had been what she did, the words she said and didn't say--the way her magic felt so very off and different. It tasted more like stagnant water in the air, a salted sea gone sour with rot, instead of the sharp electric tang of Daud's Arcane Bond.

{she'd looked at him, said 'Thomas?' with such clear confusion, face twisted into a thousand little emotions and so bare that it shook him--she was never so easy to read; she was an unattainable goal of perfect professionalism mixed with snark and sass and not this)

"That wasn't Billie," Thomas said simply, mask off even though they were in the middle of Daud's study, even though the rules were clear for everyone. Thomas scrubbed a hand through his hair, then over the faint stubble on his face. Daud didn't look at him, hands clasped behind his back as he stared out the broken window into the ruins of Rudshore. He didn't say anything, left Thomas to scramble for his words and explain. The silence was expectant.

Thomas' hands curled into fists. He said a short, "Daud--"

Daud breathed out slowly, head bowed down. "I would argue," the man said, voice gravel soft, "that that was more Billie than she's been in a long while."

The words drew Thomas up short; enough that his hands unclenched and he took a surprised step back. "What?"

Daud turned and looked him over, eyed Thomas up and down, and then turned back toward the window. He said a short, "What did you see." It wasn't a question, more of a demand for Thomas to explain his thoughts and it brought Thomas up short suddenly. How does he put into words how Billie acted that made him so assured something was wrong? Thomas went over the morning in his mind eye, the way Billie sat up bleary eyed so late in the day, her hair messed with sleep, bags under her eyes.

The way Billie's right eye drifted, ever so slightly from her left. How her right arm moved sharper than he was used to. The way she'd looked at him so unmasked, a thousand thoughts and a thousand regrets across her face in an instant. Thomas struggled to put into words what he saw, as Billie lifted her right arm and pressed it against her right eye and tilted her head back. The way she went suddenly stiff for all of a half second, and then settled back down into her skin. How she repeated the movement a moment later, incomprehensible, and then how the void just--took her.

Thomas opened his mouth, then closed it again. The transversal was odd; Billie hadn't vanished into smoke and void ash, like burnt papers in the wind as they normally did. Instead rock and stone wrapped around her form, twisted about her, then dropped to the ground and Billie was gone. Thomas couldn't put into words the sudden panic that had gripped him--how terrified he was at the strange transversal and the thought of an intruder in Rudshore, wearing the face of Billie who was so trusted that Daud named her Second that--Thomas caught himself from his spiraling thoughts and looked to Daud.

"She was expressive," Thomas said, words clipped with near uncertainty. "She was tired. She looked exhausted, worn down, off. Her words had more--gentleness. Softer." Thomas paced. "Then she--she reached up to her face and tilted her head back. It was--Void it was strange, Daud. Like she--she was elsewhere for half-a-second and then back. She did this twice and after the second time she slipped into a transversal but it was--it was wrong."

"Wrong in what way," Daud's words were quiet, contemplative.

"It wasn't void ash and smoke," Thomas stuttered over the words. "It wasn't--it was like stone, black as night, sharp as a blade. It--twisted around her. Dropped to the floor heavy. Then...melted into shadow. She was gone by that point."

Daud hummed, then said quieter, "Not every transversal is the same," which brought Thomas up short. Daud traced a finger along the wood of the window, continued his words, "You have the ability to transverse through me--through the Arcane Bond." Daud gestured toward his left hand. "You share in my transversal." Daud looked to him then. "You've seen Attano?"

Thomas paused, then said slowly, "Yes?" He'd been part of a squad that had been out on the rooftops, keeping an eye out for Attano in Bottle Street over a week back. They'd caught sight of the man only after he knocked out two other Whaler's, oddly gentle against them given he had to have recognized the masks, had to have realized who they were.

"What was his transversal like, Thomas?" Daud asked, and it drew Thomas up short.

What was Attano's transversal like? Thomas had seen it; he had clocked it as weird at the time, but brushed it aside and now he couldn't quite realize as to why. Thomas brought his hand to his chin. He had to think about it--the way the light refracted by Attano slipped into that liminal space. The Whaler's vanished into ash and smoke and burnt papers of void shadow; Attano just--winked out of existence and appeared elsewhere, light bent around him void-dark and then he was just gone into smoke. There was a trail, but faint and it faded fast enough that you had to look to see it; dispersed away into air like smoke and light puffed from the end of a cigar.

Thomas said as much as he could, confusion coloring his tone as he spoke his thoughts aloud, and Daud nodded his head.

"It is different for each Marked," Daud said, eyeing his hand disinterestedly. "Whether the black eyed bastard chooses what to give us, or if it's defined by something else, I haven't got a clue. But it is different."

Thomas pressed his lips together, but nodded slowly even as he said a short, "Like how Aelolos can duplicate."

"Or Rinaldo can tether, or Finch can bend time," Daud nodded.

Thomas frowned. "But you can't duplicate," he pointed out. "Yet we--share your transversal?" Daud shrugged, and Thomas realized that this was something Daud didn't even know. How could those who did manifest such different secondary abilities, ones that even Daud didn't have, yet they all share the same transversal, the same inexorable link to the man who had given them this gift?

For a moment Thomas didn't speak, then shook his head sharply. "Are you saying you think the Outsider Marked her?" Thomas bit his lip.

"You are the one who said she was trancing," Daud replied, voice almost too quiet to hear.

"It was--" Thomas paused, then sighed heavily. "It was similar to how you get when he bothers to talk to you." He could see the way Daud's lips quirked up, the slightly bitter slant to them. "You think He Marked her."

"It is possible," Daud said, words even. "You said she woke late?" He turned to look at Thomas, who nodded slowly. "It might be His doing, then."

"But...why?" Thomas asked, confused, hurt. The Outsider decided to Mark Billie, decided to gift Billie with new fantastical powers--but not anyone else? Why Billie specifically? After being so silent to Daud all these years, then coming back only after the hell they'd created for themselves by assassinating an Empress, coming back when Attano had escaped, coming back to give Daud a name and nothing else. "What sick game is He playing?" the words came out rough, almost grief-stricken.

"Who knows at this point?" Daud said back, purposefully blank in his tone. Thomas knew it hurt; knew Daud would look at Billie and feel a sting of betrayal. Billie was Daud's, Billie was the Whaler's, and while they were all through Daud the Outsider's he didn't just get to take one of theirs so easily! "What's done is done. The rest is Void."

Thomas clenched his hands into fists. He ground his teeth together and bowed his head. He felt a sharp sting of bitterness and rage swell in his chest that he worked to stamp out. He wondered if this meant Billie would leave them. He thought to the way she looked, how the emotions--grief, love, sorrow, hurt--flashed across her face and Thomas had to turn away from the window and away from Daud.

"I want you to keep an eye on her," Daud said, suddenly, and Thomas jerked back. He opened his mouth and then closed it when Daud looked at him, eyes hard as steel. "Watch her, see what she does. No more solo assignments for information. You keep an eye on her back and her blade."

Thomas swallowed; Daud stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder, face gentling for a moment.

"This can go one of two ways, Thomas," Daud said. "I want to make sure it doesn't bite us in the ass."

A moment, then a nod, and then Thomas transversed away.

Billie stretched as she finally escaped Fisher's clutches, rotated her right arm and sighed tiredly as she dug through her meagre belongings in her space. Blackened, void fingers rested against her red coat, folded up with the Whaler mask settled atop it. After everything that happened in Dunwall originally when Billie fled, she'd buried the coat and mask in the bottom of what little possessions that she had. She kept them for mere sentimental value, but she dared not don them. It felt strange to be in front of them now after everything and to look at them as more than mere relics of her past. These were part of her present now.

Behind her Billie could hear the sound of a transversal--the soft thwip-like sound that indicated a Whaler had moved between the realms, stepped into the void and back out again in the span of half a second. She didn't tense, didn't even turn around because she had a fair good idea who it was that stood here.

"Thomas," Billie said as she picked up the mask to set it aside so she can dress in her jacket. She'd felt so proud when Daud gave her the red coat. Later she found she couldn't stand the color, not for fifteen years as she lived as Megan Foster. Red made her sick then; even now she felt a vague sense of unease with the color, despite having taken on a sleeker form of the coat after she'd dropped Emily off in Dunwall.

"Billie," Thomas said, and Billie glanced to him. She was surprised to see he still didn't have his mask on; it was hooked to his belt as he watched her, hands behind his back. "Fisher finished with you then?" He offered her a faint grin, part of that old teasing moment.

Billie huffed and hooked her own mask to her belt before she began to work through her weapons. "Yeah. Clean bill of health." She didn't mention the way Fisher frowned as he checked her eyes, or her involuntary responses. She knew something was up with her right side--had known ever since the nightmares started after Stilton Manor. The Outsider's 'gift' of void artifacts to replace them had only made it more apparent that something had happened to them, although Billie never did get an answer as to what. Now that she was here, younger and yet not, she wasn't surprised to have some lingering side effects.

Fuck, it hit Billie then and she scrubbed a hand over her face, was she a walking fucking hollow? Billie fought back a shudder and resolved to look at herself deeply with the eye later. Not when Thomas was in her room, looking at her with all the professionalism he wore about himself like a cloak. In fact--Billie turned to look at Thomas with her lips pulled down into a thoughtful frown. Thomas had been one of the few people from her days as a Whaler that hadn't treated her with complete coldness. He'd cared after everything, despite everything, and Billie had kept her ear to the ground about the fate of her mess of misfits. She knew for a long while Thomas had tried to keep the Whaler's together, after Daud decided to fuck off to who knows where.

"Thomas," Billie said, decision made, "your with me."

Thomas seemed to start or a moment; his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open before that mask of professionalism crossed his face again and made it bland, yet pleasant.

"For what?" Thomas asked lightly as Billie turned back to arming herself.

"I'm surveilling the Timsh Estate," Billie pointed out. She was Daud's forward scout, his first contact in matters that he took personal interest. Billie was the one who got him the majority of his information. She ground her teeth in the reminder that it was that job of hers that put her in Delilah's path in the first place.

"Oh, right," Thomas shook his head as if he'd forgotten. Billie quirked her lips. "Why do you need me?"

Billie looked at her wristbow. She wondered what she could say to convince him, then just shook her head. "Back up. Just in case." She'd tell him more when they were out of Rudshore. Thomas deserved that much--and maybe, if she got him on board, she could mitigate her own fucking mistakes. If she could limit Delilah's actions somehow against the Whaler's, manipulate the woman enough that she wasn't aware of how Billie planned to betray her and yet somehow come out of this without getting Daud to knife her again--well, it'd be good preparation for Thomas to take over her position. Better than being suddenly thrust into it after her betrayal at least.

Maybe Daud would even stay this time. Wasn't that a thought? Daud keeping the Whaler's together, instead of them drifting apart until they weren't a family anymore. Billie didn't doubt that she would leave; she couldn't stay here, with them. Not with--not when that tie between her and the former Outsider burned sick in her gut. She couldn't imagine leaving the kid in that hell hole again, to rot away asleep to the world at large, petrified in stone for four thousand years--no. Billie wouldn't stay here after everything was done. After Delilah was dealt with she'd take her leave, find out where the fucking knife was, and cut a bloody swath through those fucked up cultists until she could get to him in the ritual hold.

(it was in Tyvia, wasn't it? hadn't that been what the Eyeless implied? so Tyvia then Karnaca....)

There had to be some poor dead sap in the void that could be convinced to whisper his name, after all. Billie didn't want it to be Daud again, didn't want to wait the fifteen years for it to be Daud again. She couldn't live through it a second time, and fuck it if turned the whole world into a hollow. It couldn't be worse than what they were dealing with before she woke up here.

With that thought in her mind Billie tugged on her Whaler's mask and looked to Thomas, left brow raised behind the mask. "Well?" she asked, voice tinny through the filters.

Thomas' lips quirked up and he tugged his own mask off his belt and slipped it on. He gestured to Billie, said a short, "Lead the way," and Billie grinned.

"Catch me if you can," Billie teased, cast her gaze for a space to transverse to, and disappeared in a flicker of void stone and water.

Corvo snorted awake, blinked his eyes and stared at the cot and the unfamiliar ceiling. It took him some time to place the sight of Piero's workshop. He didn't remember drifting off, but apparently at some point he'd landed on Piero's cot in the workshop and off into the realm of dreams. Corvo looked around, tried to spot Piero and the--the boy. He couldn't see anything on the upper floor, so he rolled off the cot and stretched with a grimace. HIs muscles protested, the still healing injures and scars from his time in Coldridge tugged irritatingly along his torso. He rubbed a hand along the stubble on his face and started his way down the stairs.

"Oh, Corvo." Corvo paused in the middle landing and blinked at Piero who had begun his way up. The inventor looked dead on his feet, and he swayed the faintest bit. Corvo wondered how to get across his question without a means to, but then Piero continued in a hushed voice. "I've done what I can for your guest, but Corvo...he's not in a good way."

With a gesture Corvo motioned to his neck, face pulled into a grimace, and Piero shook his head. "No, no that I've stabilized. The cut was deep but it missed the vital vessels in the neck," Piero said shortly. "I've sutured what I could but I'm not a physician, Corvo." Piero scrubbed his hand down his face. "Give me a good technical system any day, but people? I can't fix people, Corvo."

Corvo nodded, slowly. He knew as much even when he brought the--the boy here. Piero gestured toward the stairs, and quickly Corvo shifted aside to allow the inventor to head up. He followed after with heavy steps.

"It took me most of the rest of the night to stabilize him," Piero said, words short. "You passed out about halfway through. It's midday now." Corvo tilted his head, lips pressed together. "If you really want to help him we're going to need help. Are you sure you don't want to tell Havelock--" Corvo made a sharp gesture, and Piero raised his hands in understanding quickly.

A part of Corvo wondered if Piero recognized the face. He'd read through Piero's journal--he knew that the slighter man had seen the Void. He knew the Outsider whispered in Piero's ear. Had Piero seen his face? Actually talked with him? Corvo couldn't ask, and he hadn't seen the God in his sleep this night. He wondered if he would see him, given the very human shape of that same God rested downstairs.

"I get it," Piero said into the silence, words bitter on his tongue. He grabbed a cup of coffee from the pot on his desk as Corvo followed him silently. "Then I have a request of you, my friend." Piero took a sip of the liquid and Corvo watched, silently. "I need Sokolov."

Sokolov? Corvo cocked his head, lips pressed together. He knw Sokolov. The Tyvian was the Royal Physician after all; did good work, really, when he could be bothered to. Jessamine had him working on the Rat Plague before her death, but Corvo didn't know what happened after. He hadn't seen Sokolov since before his travel to the other Isles on behalf of Jessamine.

"The...others have been talking," Piero said, a grimace on his face. "I can't do much more for the Loyalists as I am. Sokolov is the only one who can really--the protections he's given the Lord Regent..." Piero sighed heavily. "I've done what I can without help. I'm not good enough." His hand tightened on his cup as he said the words, lips ground together. He relaxed his grip a second later. "I have no doubt they're going to ask you to retrieve him."

Corvo didn't hum--he didn't want to deal with the pain in his throat right now, although it was a close thing--instead he turned his head to the side and tapped his fingers against the edge of his pantleg while he thought. Sokolov would definitely be helpful--he could give Corvo an edge around the defensive technology Barrow's had applied liberally throughout the city. If he was in good standing with Barrows too--and given his genius Corvo didn't doubt Barrows kept Sokolov in good standing despite how Corvo wished Sokolov faced hardships like the rest of him--Sokolov could be a unique advantage.

Emily liked the man, too, for all of his annoyances. Corvo breathed out heavily.

"Knowing Havelock though they won't ask you to be gentle," Piero said, a grimace on his face. "And if you are determined to keep him secret--" Corvo made a sharp gesture, head instantly snapped back to Piero who made a placating gesture immediately. "I know, I know. But if you want to keep him secret then you need to be gentle, for all that Sokolov doesn't deserve it." Piero took another sip of his drink.

Corvo frowned, but nodded. He leaned over Piero's desk and dug around until he found a map of Dunwall the inventor had stashed away. After a second he laid the map out and made a short gesture to it, brow eyes narrowed intensely. Piero shot him a bitter sort of grin as he looked over the map.

"I thought I heard them talking," he said, voice soft and conspiratorial, "about Sokolov being holed up on the Kaldwin Bridge." Piero tapped the area on the map and then pushed up his glasses. "I know it'd be easier at night but do you think you--?"

Corvo huffed, but nodded. He traced his finger along the sweep of the Wrenhaven and then glanced back to Piero. It was the best he could get out to ask about the route, and it took Piero a moment to parse the unspoken question, but Piero jolted.

"Oh, yeah, Sam should be good to get you there," Piero nodded. "I hope you don't mind but I asked him earlier while you were resting. It's about...midday now." Corvo frowned. "I had gathered you wouldn't want to leave your guest in dire straights for too long. Given his--well, given everything. I know my strengths Corvo, and this? This isn't it."

Corvo ducked his head, then nodded once and turned to leave. While he disliked having the decisions made for him, Corvo knew in this instance that Piero was right. He wouldn't want to wait, or have to hunt down Samuel for a trip to the Bridge. Knowing where he needed to go, knowing that Samuel was already on board, was one worry to take away from his chest.

"I--I'll just keep watch of him then," Piero said to Corvo's retreating back, and Corvo gave a short wave of acknowledgement, already focused on how he was going to convince the Tyvian Menace of Natural Philosophy to follow him back from whatever cushy position Barrows and dropped the bastard into.

#dishonored #billie lurk #daud #corvo attano #the outsider #fanfic #fic: kismet #fic: lacuna #wip

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maybe-your-left · 4 years

Text

Cowboy Blues: Rhinestone Cowboy

Here is a link to my Masterlist with all the WIP I have!

Clyde wasted no time making you cum after you screamed at the top of your lungs when Mellie hung up. Rolling off of him onto the floor you blew into the bathroom. Showering away the tears, and other bodily fluids that stained your body. You heard the bed creak and footsteps leading to the bathroom.

“Y’okay sunshine?” Clyde spoke from behind the shower doors.

You couldn’t respond. You were so upset with yourself, you just needed to wash away the sins and go face Mellie with a somewhat clear conscience. The door cracked slightly and Clyde peered inside, concern coloring his face.

“Do y’ want me t’ wait outside?”

“No, I just, I don’t,” you hiccuped between breaths, “Just get in dammit.”

He quickly slipped in and positioned himself behind you and tried to get under the water to clean his face and hand from your juices.

“I just feel shitty, not about what we did, just that I forgot about her…”

“I know, I forgot too, y’ don’ have t’ be so harsh on yerself.”

“Ughhhh,” you let out and laid your head against Clydes’ broad chest. “I’m not mad at you, I just wish Mellie wasn’t mad at me.”

“She’ll get over it, don’ worry.” He kissed the top of your head and wrapped his arms around you, his hand tracing up and down your spine. You looked up at him and placed a kiss on his beard.

“Thank you,” you sighed, “Now let’s wash off and get going.”

-----

The ride to Duck Tape was quick, Clyde told you to follow him to the salon since you had never been before. You decided to drive in silence, wrecking your brain trying to figure out how to casually talk about your phone conversation. Had she really heard Clyde? Was she just messing with you? Clyde was sure Mellie would get over it, in fact, he said she was rooting for the two of you and was one of the masterminds behind getting you to the bar. So it was kind of her fault you ended up together. No like she forced you to ride his beautiful face but come on there was room to share the blame.

The both of you pulled into the salon and you shut off your car and made it out as slowly as possible. You were dragging your feet to the front door, even though Clyde was far enough in front to hold the door open you semi wished he had gone inside by himself.

Mellie was sitting in a salon chair, arms crossed, legs crossed, tapping her heel away on the tile. She stared at the two of you with unforgiving eyes, it felt like she was staring into your soul.

“Hey Mellie, we made it…” you stuttered.

“I take it y’all had a nice morning?” her eyes narrowed at the both of you.

Gulping you looked at Clyde who was trying his hardest not to make eye contact with his sister. You were on your own.

“I’m really so-“

Mellie burst out in laughter.

“You two look so damn guilty!” She started holding her sides and tried to calm herself down but burst into another fit of giggles when Clyde turned around and walked outside.

“I can’t even believe you answered your phone!” she motioned out to Clyde, “while doing THAT, with Clyde!”

“Mellie I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting-“ you tried to explain yourself but found her laughter infectious. You started laughing and Mellie ran over to you and took you in a hug.

“Now I know you’re sorry, just don’t make me go through that again, please.”

“I won't, I promise!”

You felt so relieved. You thought she was mad at you, but really she was so tickled by how stupid you were and clearly how horny you were to just answer the phone during a moment like that. She explained that her husband had always tried to do shit like that when she was on the phone but she never let him get away with it. You seemed to have changed her mind though.

After a few minutes chatting about your evening, leaving out spicy bits for Clyde's benefit, you went outside to wrangle in Clyde.

“You can come in now, she's not mad at us,” walking over to him sitting on the hood of his car.

“I know she ain’t,” he sighed “it’s embarrassin’ though, I don’ want her thinkin’ of me like that.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, now let’s get our hair cut and just move on with our day, okay?”

Clyde grumbled as you pulled him up by his hands. Following you back inside Mellie did Clyde's hair first, seeming to try and get him to relax. You tried to strike up a conversation with Mellie since he was in no mood.

“So Mellie, who is your husband?” you couldn’t remember if she had told you last night or not so it seemed like a good starting point.

“Oh his name's Joe Bang, we’ve been together for a couple years.”

“How’d you two meet?”

Mellie paused and shared a weird look with Clyde before answering.

“Um I met him in 2017, he and Clyde were in prison-“

“Mellie,” Clyde growled at her.

Prison? Clyde was in prison? This was news…

“Wait what? Clyde, you were in prison?” you stared at him dumbfounded. How long was he in prison, why would Mellie marry a convict that Clyde met? Why did this never come up!?

“Anyway, I started seein’ Joe after he got out and we got married about a year ago.”

“Oh okay… well, that’s nice,” you were trying to play off the bombshell that she dropped.

Clyde's hair was finished in silence, as the two of you switched seats he hovered over you.

“Sunshine, I gotta head home n’ take care of the horses n’ Leroy. I’ll be at the bar if y’ what t’ stop by.”

“Okay, I’ll see you later?” offering him a smile in hopes he would tell you about the ‘prison’ thing at some point. Leaning down he kissed your forehead before walking out.

——

Clyde did not want to leave yet. He was so worried about Mellie and (Y/N) being alone together. There were so many things they could talk about in his absence. He wasn’t sure how the salon trip was going to go but he did not expect it turning out like that. He wasn’t expecting Mellie to start laughing at them when they came in, nor was he expecting her to bring up his time at Monroe.

He wasn’t ready to tell (Y/N) bout that yet, he was scared she would run away. He didn’t want her thinkin’ he was a criminal, he wasn’, he just didn’ drive ‘legally’ and he may have robbed a speedway.

No big deal right?

Right?

It wasn’ long before Clyde made it home. He was greeted by Leroy at the front door who was so happy to see him. He had Earl come by and give him his medicine last night, and he was sure he hadn’t fed him enough.

“Come on in Leroy, let’s get y’ some late breakfast.”

Clyde was a good pet owner. He didn’ feed Leroy any artificial shit that clogged their arteries. He was a firm believer in givin’ dogs natural foods. So he was spoiled. Spoiled rotten, every mornin’ Clyde would make Leroy some bacon n eggs and they’d sit together before seein’ the horses. It wasn’ that Clyde meant to overfeed him, he just would beg him if he didn’ share his food and he couldn’ stand his puppy eyes.

Clyde took the same care with feeding out to the horses, making sure that they were well fed with the best oats and hay that money could buy. Since he took them to shows he wanted to make sure their coats were shiny and they were healthy weights all year round.

The silence around the barn calmed him, he had had a rough go of things as of late. Ever since meetin’ (Y/N), his usual routines were plagued with emptiness. He had felt it the day he met her and couldn’ shake the feelin’ that he was missin’ out on her company.

She had such a warmth to her, genuine and caring. Albeit clumsy and a lil stubborn but she seemed to like him which in theory should’ve been enough. But no.

It wasn’ enough.

Every time Clyde was around (Y/N) he felt like he couldn’ get enough. He needed to show her how he felt, but now he was worried that she would be scared away from him.

Makin’ his way back to the house he heard a beep from the answering machine. A message? Must’ve just missed the call…

“Hey Clyde, it’s (Y/N). I just got done with my hair and was hopin’ we could talk and stuff. Call me back?”

Shit.

Clyde quickly grabbed the phone and began dialin’ (Y/N)’s number. He was prepared for the worst, she would want him to leave her alone after this mornin’. Clearly Mellie had told her about his sentencin’ and now she thinks he’s a know good criminal. He held his breath until the phone picked up.

“Hello, this is (Y/N).”

“Hi, it’s Clyde,” he cleared his throat, “M’ sorry I missed yer call.”

“Oh, Hi Clyde!”

“What did y’ want t’ talk about?”

A pause.

“Well I just,” (Y/N) let out a long breath, this was it, “I just wanted to talk about us…I just don’t feel comfortable continuing-”

Clyde took a deep breath, “Ya I know darlin’, M sorry fer puttin’ y’ in those situations. I’ll let y’ be-”

“Clyde, will you let me finish?”

“O’course, sorry.”

“I don’t feel comfortable continuing without us being…” another pause, “exclusive?”

Clyde dropped the phone. He was so sure she was goin’ to call and tell him to take a hike but now? Now she was tellin’ HIM, that she wanted to be exclusive! He scrambled and picked the phone up and (Y/N) didn’ seem to notice he was absent since she was still prattlin’ on ‘bout their situation.

“Would y’ like t’ do horseback ridin’ Saturday?” he interrupted her word vomit.

“Uh, well yes, but that doesn’t answer my earlier-”

“M’ not gonna ask y’ on the phone t’ be my girl, so jus’ be ready fer Saturday.”

“Okay, I’ll see you Saturday, bye Clyde.”

“Bye Sunshine.”

-----

You hung up the phone after Clyde said goodbye and nearly screamed into your pillow. You couldn’t believe Clyde was taking you horseback riding, it had been years since you rode one. Not since your days back in Montana for vet school. You didn’t even own riding clothes. You would have to go shopping, maybe Mellie would go with you and get you all set up before Saturday.

It was a whole week away so you had time to prep, you were so relieved that Clyde had asked you out. It wasn’t a traditional date but Clyde wasn’t really a traditional guy you were finding out. Mellie had told you all about him after he left the salon.

About how back in high school he was on the rodeo team and rode broncos at the fairs, Jimmy their oldest brother apparently was the football star so Clyde had tried to make himself someone different. Mellie also told you about him going overseas to Iraq. You didn’t want to pry Clyde about his arm but you had noticed his tattoo while the two of you were intimate and obviously had to ask someone. Apparently Clyde was a Green Beret in the Army for two tours before he was discharged due to the bomb blowing his lower forearm off. You couldn’t believe that he still was so independent. That type of injury had to have been so traumatic, but it was clear he took comfort in the animals and people he surrounded himself in.

Walking over to your closet you ripped through half your clothes to try and find an appropriate outfit for riding. What was Clyde planning? Were you just doing a day ride, or were you doing an overnight camping trip? You should’ve asked more questions. Whipping through dozens of drawers of clothes you found nothing. Nothing that screamed ‘please make me your girlfriend’ with subtle tones of ‘fuck me in the bushes’.

You wasted about ten minutes before caving and calling Mellie, telling her all about Clydes ‘plan’ to take you riding after you pushed about your relationship. Mellie squealed when she heard that Clyde was taking you on a ride and insisted on just the place to go shopping tomorrow for your outfit.

——

Monday morning had come quickly and you were eager to get done so you could meet Mellie at the salon. You had no clue what to buy but you had been browsing online at boots and already had a few in mind.

You also were meant to stop and grab some intimate wear in case things got spicy with Clyde while on the ride.

Patients were coming in left and right, you barely had time to breathe between rooms. Between the vaccines and frantic pet owners coming in because their animals were overheating in the West Virginian heat, you couldn’t catch a break.

Finally, 2 o’clock rolled by and you could check your phone and eat your lunch before closing in an hour. Plopping down in your office you started inhaling food and scrolled through your notifications. Texts and phone calls from patients were all over along with Snapchat’s from your old college friends, but one text caught your eye.

It was an unknown number.

Hi Sunshine, can I ask you a question?

Must be Clyde, he’s the only one that calls you that.

Of course, what’s up?

Setting your phone down to gather your stuff to head to Mellies, it buzzed again.

Are you allergic to anything?

What? What could he possibly be asking about your allergies for?

TAGLIST: @finn-ray-nal-beads @morby @clumsycopy @desiraypark @kirah36 @onlykyloscenes

#adamdriver #Clyde logan #clyde x reader #kylo ren #charlie barber #phillip altman #flip zimmerman #adam driver

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guiltysecretpasttime · 3 years

Text

Linzin Week 2021: Day 3 - Stargazing (part 2)

Republic City, a couple of months ago

After another one of their shouting matches, Tenzin gripped the edges of the dining table tightly. Lin, at the other side, stood up as well, breathing heavily.

Their arguments were becoming more frequent in the past few weeks. It started with small things in the household and soon escalated to the more Serious Stuff.

To be honest, Tenzin was no longer quite sure what their argument tonight started with. He watched warily the earthbending drinking water in front of him. Whatever they started with, tonight’s fight ended with both accusing the other of not being as committed to their relationship as the other.

Lin put down her glass of water. “We can’t resolve this in one night, can we?” There was resignation on her expression.

Tenzin ran a hand on his face. “No, we can’t.”

“What do we do now?” Lin toyed with the fringes of the tablecloth that his mother had gifted them with as a housewarming present. When they had informed their parents that they will move in together at this quaint apartment at the edge of Republic City, Katara was excited to hear that they were taking their relationship seriously and had immediately turned to sewing them something for the house. “We can’t continue like this.”

He let go of the table, moving backwards to lean on the counter behind him. Tenzin felt tired suddenly. It was as if all the stress from the past weeks dropped on his shoulders.

His father has started to unload more responsibility of the Air Nation to him. Lin, meanwhile, had been promoted recently. Not to mention, the city council had been hounding him to convince his mother to allow a statue to be erected in her honor. Katara hated that.

“Maybe we should -.”

“You’re right.” He interrupted, causing Lin to look up at him. “We can’t go on like this. I agree - we should break up.”

“Break up?” Lin was taken aback. “What are you – that wasn’t what I -.”

Tenzin backpedaled. “That wasn’t what you were going to suggest?”

“No!” Lin worked her mouth, opening and closing. She was at a loss for words. She decided to sit down. “I was going to say take a break, get back to it later, just not…” She gestured her hands to the food on the table. “Now. Let’s have dinner first.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “But, Tenzin, really, be honest – is that what you think? How long have you been thinking… Do you think we should break up?”

---

Lin worried her lip between her teeth, forcing herself to control her feelings as Tenzin, after saying a few choice words, left the house to cool off.

She wanted to swipe her arm on the different dishes on the table. The night started so innocuous; she had gotten home early to prepare a special dinner for them.

Somehow, it had gone sideways quickly. All their previous arguments were unearthed and until they ended up with a mutual agreement. One that, she hoped, would not bite them in the ass.

It was a shame to let the food go to waste.

Even if her appetite had all but vanished, Lin was not one to throw food away. She piled a little bit of everything on her plate and poured herself a glass of wine. She carried the plate and glass outside to their small balcony. She started eating, balancing the plate and glass on the railing, and was drawn to the stars that were visible from their balcony.

Admittedly, it was one of the things that attracted Tenzin and her to renting out this apartment. It was far enough for their privacy, near enough to be accessible to their workplaces and high enough that the city’s artificial light does not obscure the view of the nighttime sky.

The earthbender chewed her food contemplatively. It would be shame to move out, wouldn’t it?

---

City hall

“Good afternoon, Captain! Councilman Tenzin is in his office right now.” Tenzin heard his assistant from the other side before his office doors burst open.

Enter Captain Beifong of RCPD, who strode purposefully in, stopping only when she was right in front of his desk. The doors swung shut behind her.

“Tenzin!” She leaned on the desk and Tenzin could see the vein on her forehead.

“Good afternoon to you too, Captain Beifong.” He played dumb to prolong the inevitable.

“You know why I’m here.” Lin rolled her eyes. “Would you care to tell me why did I just have lunch with your parents and that they, oh, that they were booking a room for the two for us in the next family getaway?”

“Listen Lin – .”

“No, you listen. Why didn’t you tell them we’re done? That we’ve broken up?”

“I can’t, okay? They’re both so pleased for us. I’m looking for a good timing.”

Lin scoffed. “Is there ever a good timing to break up?”

“Well.” Tenzin scratched his beard.

“Don’t – answer that!”

“And I can’t disappoint Dad right now.”

“Of course, that’s the reason. After all that’s exactly why we -.” Lin cleared her throat and Tenzin could see how she visibly tried to control herself. “Well, alright then. As long as we’re on the same page.”

---

Neither one had gone public about it, but it was fairly obvious at their respective workplaces.

Interestingly, no one dared ask about it. It was probably because there were more infinitely important issues that took residence on the news headlines. The Triads were acting up and the construction of the Southern Water Tribe cultural center had finally started. There was also something about Fire Nation colonies in the Earth Kingdom that newly crowned Queen Houting was declaring Earth Kingdom subjects.

The city was preoccupied with other things, his parents were away, and her mother has relinquished her position in both the metalbending academy and the police department.

She had to hand it to Tenzin, now that Lin thought about it – it was a good time to break up.

---

They were practical.

They were responsible.

They were the smart ones.

And yet, Tenzin questioned if they were really intelligent – given their decisions as of late.

He lightly fingered the small bright yellow piece of paper that Lin left on their corkboard. It had been their practice to leave notes as needed; sometimes to leave sweet messages or to let the other know where they would be during the day.

The airbender crumpled the paper in his palm.

Now that they have broken up, the corkboard mainly contained reminders for their bills, a grocery list or a chore schedule.

Tenzin snorted.

Yes, they were real smart, deciding to continue sharing a living space with their ex.

Close quarters, close contact – heck, even one bed (“Not gonna matter, airhead, we’re barely home at the same time anyway.”).

He had been revisiting their decision in the past months.

He started to see the little things that he had taken for granted.

And, what he initially thought was a sense of relief was starting to taste like regret.

Meanwhile, Lin, as he saw it was quite able to adjust to their living arrangements.

She was more subdued at home the earlier part of their break-up. But, resilient as she is, she started to go back to normal.

He kicked off his sandals and padded towards the balcony.

Which building, he wondered at the blinking lights, was she in now?

What was she doing right now?

Or who – his mind added nastily.

The crumpled note in his hand said: “Roommate – I’ll be out late. Don’t wait up.”

Roommate. He almost sneered. That’s what they’ve been reduced to.

TBC

#linzin #linzin fanfic #toccatina wip #linzin2021r18 #lin beifong x tenzin

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spikeymarshmallows · 4 years

Note

Hi! Just saw your WIPS post, if you’re willing would you mind telling a bit more about your Sexworker Klaus AU and Vanya’s book in the museum verse (not sure if someone has already asked about these two, sorry if I missed it!)... thank you so much!!! :3

Hehehe I’m sorry for my slow reply. I was HOPING to have the Vanya’s Book in Museum ‘verse finished by now for Kliego week, but unless I pull off a miracle, it’s probs not gonna happen in time....

Thank you for asking about theseeeeee. I’m sorry my reply is a novel!!!

But.

Here's a tiny snip for the Vanya's Book....

But Diego and Klaus were different. I was never quite sure what to make of them. They didn't seem to share the same energy as Luther and Allison. But I saw how Diego—Diego who was so quick to anger, to take offence, to throw out cruel words—softened around Klaus. It never really made sense to me.

Klaus was not the sweetest of our brothers. He was loud, and forever interrupted everyone, including Dad. Whenever anyone cut Diego off, they'd be met with anger, sometimes stuttered, sometimes not. When Klaus interrupted, Diego stopped, listened.

Klaus may have let Allison paint his fingernails, but he was also the one who stood up to Dad the most after Five left.

He wasn't particularly good at arguing, and his points didn't make sense, but his temper rivaled Diego's and his self-control was lacking. It was not unusual for Klaus to limp out of Dad's office with a puffy, tear-stained face, and a stubborn expression that could have matched Five's.

OKAY. SO. I HAVE SOME OPINIONS TM ABOUT KLAUS AS A SEX WORKER.

Or rather, I have Opinions TM about how sex work in general is portrayed in fics. Not just TUA. But... fics. In general.

So... Full disclosure. I know a lot of sex workers. Like. A lot. Like, a good proportion of my RL friends back in my home country are full-service-sex-workers. IDK, I'm in the kink scene, met a few there. Was in a poly relationship and one of my metamours was a sex worker. My best friend in Australia is a sex worker and when I go to her birthday parties, I meet loadddds of them. I know a lot of them. I used to hang with my best friend several times a week. I don't have the experiences of a SWer but.... I know one or two things that I don't think that fic really captures... And it's that Sex Workers are pretty normal people.

So. Basically. I come from a place where I view Sex Work relatively positively, and like many other jobs in that there are good days and bad days.

Yes, there are a lot of survival sex workers. That's a wholeeee other kettle of fish, and it's heartbreaking and emotional, and just so fucked up. A lot of sex workers that I have met started it from the necessity that... well. It was necessary. Some were homeless. Some were almost homeless. And then some... One girl talks about how she turned 18 and walked into a brothel that day because that's all she'd ever wanted to do.

There are also some who make absolute bank.But most of them? Normal people. They might have slightly nicer bags or shoes, but they're not rolling around in Burberry and Bordelle.

Sometimes she'd cancel dinner at the last minute for a last minute booking because she needed to make rent that week. Sometimes, she'd be like "So I'm free earlier! Wanna come over for wine and cheese?"

AnYwAy.... I got a bee in my bonnet and was all "...I wanna write Klaus as a normal sex worker!!"

It's not a stretch to imagine that Klaus has done survival sex work. He's heavily implied it in the show too. But I had this idea that maybe... there were moments in his life... where his life was a little more like the SWers I knew...

And then.... I had the prompt of "Eyes up now. Look at me." from wayyyyy back when.

And... The plan is/was/is/was/idk anymore/is to have Diego going to see a sex worker about a particular kink he has.... And being ashamed of that kink. And encountering an ad that he thinks might be a good fit. And showing up and... oh! It's Klaus!! Oh.....

And Klaus is like ".....well, you're here. I want my money, we may as well do this ;)"

SNIP SNOP SNAPPITY BOP Diego exhaled slowly and before his nerves could any further slow him down, he knocked sharply at the apartments door. It was a modest place in a normal part of the city. The paint was fresh on the walls, and it was clean for inner-city. Nothing crazy fancy, but definitely a few steps above his boiler room.

"It's open!" A voice came from inside the apartment and Diego hesitantly pushed inside.

It was nice, if a little cluttered. Definitely not the terrifying sex dungeon a part of him had expected. There were dream catchers hanging in a few spots, and wind chimes beside the door that lead out to a small balcony. There were some plants on the balcony and Diego squinted; those herbs were certainly not for the kitchen.

There was an enormous rug under a coffee table, and two well-used couches sat facing each other.

And fairy lights. There were a lot of fairy lights.

"Hello darling," a very familiar voice said as someone exited the kitchen to the left.

Klaus pulled up short, eyes wide.

Diego was frozen in place.

"Diego," Klaus said, the first to recover. "Lovely to see you, all that jazz, et cetera, et cetera, but you need to leave. I'm expecting someone any moment now," Klaus said, putting his hands on Diego's shoulders and manhandling him towards the door.

"Uh, yeah, about that," Diego said awkwardly, not letting himself be shoved any further.

Klaus stopped. "Ex-squeeze me?"

Diego said nothing.

"Oh come on," Klaus whined. He folded his arms across his chest, which Diego was only now registering was bare. He was wearing a short, silky kimono which barely grazed the tops of his thighs, his bare chest quite visible like this. "Dario?"

"Maybe?"

Klaus studied him through narrowed eyes. "Did you make all of this up, just to come and lecture me about how I shouldn't be doing this? Because if that's your objective, you can get the fuck out."

Diego's cheeks were flaming. His jaw was hurting from how tightly he was clenching it.

"Ugh!" Klaus said, throwing his arms in the air. "I'm going to make some tea. Just… Sit down."

Diego did so awkwardly. He looked around the room again, trying to note things just to distract himself. There was eclectic art on the walls, and now that Diego knew this was Klaus' place, he was not at all surprised at the decor.

Off of the small living space were three doors. One for the kitchen, one where he could see a low-lit room with a bed in it, and the third that he assumed was a bathroom.

#meme #spikey writes #kliego

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