Sometimes writing fantasy is the tons of strong characters you’re making, and like a very weak plot, and that’s okay
Seriously though I’ve got a:
A very dark grey asshole Prince who’s trying to make sure his father doesn’t fuck up his country
His sister, a very ambitious princess who is sick and tired of everything
Two childhood rivals assassins turned reluctant friends to ‘I got feelings for you but I won’t say anything’, only one of them is a refuge from another kingdom and the other is a Prince for the kingdom that took her in
Their friend group called the Guild™️ that are made up of funky little assassins
A huntress halfway across the world who is very much “fuck around and find out”
And a guy that got turned to stone but not really, he’s back and kinda crazy
Tagged by @kittynomsdeplume@raflesia65@starsandskies@noire-pandora@a11sha11fade@fiannans for a WIP share! I’ve been working on a prompt for Cullen and Lyd that has my attention alongside a commission, but I also decided to work on my Leon and Ada fic a little today! here’s a snippet. They’re still on their honeymoon in Paris <3
“Subway smells like piss. Smells that way anywhere though.”
He leans back in his chair. “Guess I can see why people got so inspired here. God knows people are lacking it these days.”
“Anna May Wong.”
Leon’s brow furrows. as Ada sips her Cabernet, the dark red as dark as her dress and as dark as her lips as Leon watches. “An actress,” she says. “Old Hollywood. Silent era and a little after.”
“Your name,” he says, realization dawning. “I see.”
“My mother’s inspiration. She became mine. Took her name because it sounded similar. And why not.”
I still got three WIPs going, but they’re actually moving again, so that’s something!
One is almost done (I think. Getting a second opinion) and one needs a lot of work, so here is a sample from the one that is juuuuuust right.
Welcome to chapter 8 of I’m Sorry I Ruined Your Party (affectionately nicknamed SIRYP) my POV rotating fever dream currently set during the end of Dragon Age 2, Act 2. This chapter is from Seb’s POV.
The streets were deserted, even the roguish thugs which normally stalked their shadows having been banished by the Qunari threat. Some would have called the silence unnerving, Sebastian found it calming. It provided the perfect atmosphere for contemplation over the days events. He prayed as he walked, thanking the Maker and Andraste for end of the conflict and for keeping his compatriots safe. He knew what the others would say: it was their prowess and strength which had done that, not the Maker or his bride. Sebastian knew better, for it was the Maker who had granted them those qualities which had allowed for success. It was also by the Maker’s grace that the elvhen woman had appeared, Andraste’s ever reaching mercy directing her blade to save the people of Kirkwall from the Qun’s oppression. Himself included. Had it not been for her quick disposal of the despot, the house of the Maker would likely have been an early target of his tyranny, leaving the populous without respite and himself without a home.
He had never properly thanked her, he realized shamefully. A glaring oversight on his part, but one that luckily he might be able to correct.
Sebastian changed direction, turning towards Lowtown. Hawke had invited the young woman to accompany him and the others to the Hanged Man. He couldn’t be sure she had accepted, but he suspected she would have. Even if she hadn’t, however, the group may have an idea where she could be found. It was his best chance in any case.
The serene quiet faded as he approached Lowtown, for the lower reaches of the city never truly slept, but even this part of the city had been muted by the chaos. Doorways and filthy alcoves which normally housed urchins and beggars were vacant, their usual residents seeking shelter at the Chantry Darktown. Their absence hastened Sebastian’s journey, as it was his custom to stop and offer aid to those he encountered, and he reached the Hanged Man in only a few minutes walking. Even from the street it was clear that the threat of annihilation had not dulled the rowdy nature of the bar’s occupants, in fact upon pulling the door open Sebastian was met with a wall of bodies which he had to force his way through even to gain entrance.
The denizens of Lowtown had apparently developed their own method for seeking comfort in dark times.
Thanks for tagging me @starsandskies! <3 I don’t have anything new to share this week (or nothing I’m ready to reveal yet anyway) so here’s a lengthy snippet from an older WIP: my Cullvelyan Trespasser epilogue, featuring my canon Inquisitor Siobhan.
“Seeker,” Varric said in a strange voice.
“What?” Cassandra snapped.
“Look at her arm.”
Cassandra inhaled sharply and Dorian swallowed, feeling suddenly ill. The Inquisitor’s left arm—the one that had previously borne the Anchor—was missing. From the elbow down, it was just gone. Only a stump remained, blackened flakes peeling off it. The unmistakable feeling of magic clung to it.
“Maker’s breath,” Cassandra breathed. “Who did this to her?”
“Solas,” Dorian said flatly. “You heard her, when she came out of the mirror. She said his name.”
“Come on, Sparkler,” Varric said, “Solas may have lied to us about who he is, but he wouldn’t do something like this. You know that.”
“Well if not him, then who?”
“I don’t know! The Qunari, maybe. Tell you what…when she wakes up, we can ask her.”
“Stop it, both of you,” Cassandra said. “We can argue about who or what did this later, afterwe get her to a healer.”
“All right,” Varric said. “Just one problem…how are we going to do that?”
“I’ll have to carry her,” Cassandra said.
“I’ll do it,” Dorian told her.
She raised her eyebrows. “Are you sure?”
“We can’t all be muscle-bound warriors, but I’m stronger than I look. I’ll manage. Besides, someone needs to watch our back in case the Qunari decide to ambush us and all credit to Varric and his Bianca, but you’re the one with the heavy armour and really big sword.”
“All right, if you insist.”
“I do, actually.”
Kneeling by Siobhan’s side, Dorian slipped one arm around her shoulders and the other under her knees, lifting her carefully. “Hold on,” he told her, “We’ll get you home, don’t worry.”
Her eyelashes fluttered as her head lolled against his shoulder, but she didn’t respond. Given how bad her arm looked, perhaps it was better that she was unconscious.
“Cullen’s going to kill us,” he said.
“Come on,” Cassandra said. “We need to move.”
“Yeah,” Varric replied. “I’ve had enough of this place to last me a lifetime.”
It was a long trek back through the Eluvians, especially carrying Siobhan who remained unconscious the entire time. Twice, Cassandra stopped to check if Dorian was okay and twice he insisted he was fine, thank you, please stop asking.
They didn’t see a single qunari, or anyone else for that matter. Eventually they reached the final Eluvian that led back to the Winter Palace.
“You go first,” Cassandra said, nodding to Dorian.
“Great,” Dorian said, “Let me be the one to break it to Cullen and the others that we brought our Inquisitor back minus one arm.”
Cassandra rolled her eyes as he stepped through the mirror and then he was standing in the store room at the Winter Palace, with Inquisition guards, the Commander, Leliana and Josephine all staring at him.
“Not much of a welcome party,” he said, as Varric and Cassandra appeared behind him. Snapping out of their surprise, the advisors moved into action. Leliana started giving orders to the guards to secure the Eluvian, while Josephine quickly issued instructions on having a room prepared and a healer summoned for the Inquisitor. Then Cullen was there, taking Siobhan gently from Dorian, much to the relief of his protesting arms.
The Inquisitor’s eyes fluttered open briefly as she was transferred from Dorian to Cullen—her husband now, Dorian reminded himself—who cradled her like she was something precious, which Dorian supposed she was, in a way.
“Cullen?” Siobhan said weakly.
“I’m here,” he replied, voice firm but gentle. “You’re safe now.”
“Good,” she said, closing her eyes again. The look on Cullen’s face was one Dorian had never seen on the other man before. Tenderness and worry, an expression so out of place on their normally stoic Commander that it made Dorian uncomfortable to witness. He looked away.
I was tired today after work and didn’t get too much done–but here’s a bit from my next chapter of IWD, the penultimate one. (Unless I decide this doesn’t work in which case this will probably be a one shot lol)
They told her they waited for her. She didn’t know what that meant.
“We waited for you,” Papa said, holding her in his arms before bed, rocking her to sleep. She didn’t like to go back to sleep right after a nightmare. Papa or Mumma usually picked her up and rocked her until she was back to sleep. She liked to hear stories. One night Papa told her about a hole in the sky, a girl with a mark on her hand. “Would you believe,” he said, soft, “that it was Mumma?”
thanks for the tag @fiannans@thedastrashand@starsandskies@knuttydrawsand@noire-pandora <3 It seems I only have time for short writing spurts lately. Been a busy week, been working non stop preparing for an interview, but I did manage to get this for a prompt I have in my box <3
Lydia is a celebration. As he dances, or tries to anyway, he finds her his own brand of intoxication. How does she know he loves the way the little whisps of her hair hit her shoulder? How does she know he loves it when she pushes her hair away from her face, revealing that small and tantalizing widow’s peak at the top of her forehead that’s almost a crown? Her sleeves fall off her tanned shoulders, her embroidered corset cinching in. He gulps at the valley, sighs at the closeness of her. She doesn’t take proper form anymore as more couples and some singles scurry to the floor to dance, pressing them in. Lydia pulls him closer, too concerned with him than proper form. He’s always more concerned with her than proper form.
before this I had a line about her “sticking to him like honey” and I really liked the imagery, lol.
Okay, this is actually a smutty full-body and is going far slower than I intended, but yeah, we’re almost there. Hopefully, I’ll manage to finish this weekend or something.
Thanks to everyone who’s tagged me recently! Today I bring you Garrus and Shepard blowing off steam in the Armax Arsenal Arena. ;)
Some suggestiveness, but nothing too spicy.
“Come on.” Garrus took her hand and pulled her across the arena determinedly, heading for one of the corners.
“What are you doing?” Shepard hissed, glancing up at the dozens of cameras still trained on them. Her boyfriend didn’t answer. Instead, he tugged her behind a large barricade programmed to look like a natural rock formation near the outer edge of the arena, crowding her up against it.
“Okay,” he said, checking his omni-tool. “None of the cameras should be able to see us here.”
“See us doing what?” she asked.
“This,” he said and seized her face with both hands, kissing her roughly. At first Shepard was too surprised to respond, but she quickly recovered and returned the gesture eagerly. Her fingers curled around the edge of his breastplate, pulling him closer as his long, dexterous tongue twined with hers. With a needy growl, he grabbed the back of her thigh and lifted up her leg, grinding his hips impatiently against hers through their armour.
Since@shanaraharlyah tagged me in wip wednesday after I posted the previous one, here’s another wip and I’m gonna make it make full circle, tagging @kittynomsdeplume
thanks for the tag @5lazarus ! my most recent snapey wip was the next chapter of snapemas that i never finished (oops) so this is the most anyone is probably going to see from part 6
“Then you do it!” Severus threw his hands in the air, dropping the roll of silver ribbon he was holding and stepping away from the tree.
Minerva flicked her wand and carefully draped the ribbon across the branches, tucking the ends out of sight and gestured towards the half-decorated tree.
“That’s exactly how I did it!” he muttered exasperatedly.
“Just start hanging ornaments.”
He reached for the shopping bag from their trip into Diagon Alley and started pulling out the boxes of baubles they had purchased. He paid careful attention to the potion bottles, making sure each one was in plain view as he hung them. Minerva was casting tiny balls of light, directing them to the tree and watching them scatter with a satisfied eye.
“All it’s missing is the star on top.”
“Indeed.”
“I think you should be the one to do it.”
He blinked. “You’re making it sound like that’s a big deal and if it is, then I don’t want to do it.”
little bonus is the most recent writing ive done (yesterday) but it’s for genshin impact and a complete, unedited ramble that will probably get scrapped entirely oh no
Rain was only ever meant to be cleansing, but as the droplets ran down his face, masking his tears, it felt like anything but. His rain-soaked coat was a weight upon his shoulders, a fitting analogy for the grief and anger he was carrying, that was simmering just within him.
Diluc Ragnvindr stood on the cliffside that looked over the ocean and stared at the peaks of faraway lands that seemed to beckon him to go. The winery stood behind him, but its usual bustle was gone as the workers had been given time off to mourn.
He’d been sleeping there the past few nights, finding comfort in its familiar walls without the ache that came from being inside the mansion. The mansion that had always been home, but that he couldn’t bear the thought of stepping foot in again.
He had left Adelinde with orders to pack up their belongings and move them to the living quarters at the Winery, refusing to go back.
He wasn’t sure it would be enough.
Pain radiated through him whenever he thought about the events of the last few days, lighting up his nerve endings like the fire he so carefully wielded, and he feared there was nothing across the seven lands that could put a stop to it.
Nothing but time and as much distance as he could manage, but still, he feared it wouldn’t be enough.
Let’s play a game. Type the following words into your tags box, then post the first automatic tag that comes up. you, also, what, when, why, how, look, because, never
