#7 snippets tag

[oh-no-another-idea]

Seven Snippets tag X

Thanks for this one, @winterandwords @tabswrites and @dogmomwrites! <3 Let's do some Bent Nails or Something, since I haven't played this game with new baby wip yet ;)

1.

Michael sat and breathed and let the past be the past. “I’d like to meet Angela,” he said. “I think it’d be nice to have her stay.”

Nick smiled at him and said no more about it. Michael promptly tried to forget the whole thing.

2.

“It’s not snooping, it’s exploring,” [Angela] said, in the same voice she’d been using on Sutton since the words consisted of look, Sutton, it’s an airplane! Open wide!

5.

Michael owned six memories of his father. He had liked microwaving sliced cheese on a piece of bread until the whole thing was a sticky congealed mess that only a five-year-old could’ve loved. Michael had watched the timer count downward and he remembered his father’s hands handing him the melty gooey goodness. There had been a braided cord bracelet and a watch on his wrist.

4.

Sutton’s stomach dropped into her sandals. “No,” she said, quickly growing just as distraught. “No, I can’t, you don’t understand.”

“I sure don’t,” [Jacob] said.

“I have no money,” Sutton told him. “Not like, more than thirty bucks. And you can’t go to my mom for it because we’re here to see if she and Nick are compatible and should get married and live together forever and I can’t be a problem, not now, not when things are going so good. She’ll kill me, and then she’ll leave Nick and I’ll be the ruination of her happiness. Again, probably.”

5.

“You think it over,” he said, pulling a sharpie out of his pocket. “Come see me on Wednesday and tell me your decision. Give me your arm. Come on, give it to me, I’m not gonna chop it off.”

He took her wrist and pushed her sleeve up, writing on her arm with the sharpie. An address flowed to life in ink. 28 Winston Farm Rd.

“That’s permanent marker,” Sutton said blankly, staring at the ugly letters on her skin.

6.

“I kinda sorta maybe accidentally smashed someone’s windshield,” Sutton mumbled, looking at her sandals. “And they said I could pay it off by helping them out for the summer. I need to know how to use a hammer.”

7.

“Now where was I—” he turned, spotted Michael with his back to them, saw up above his head to get the beam near the ceiling, and faltered.

“What should I do next?” Sutton prompted.

Jacob shook his head like a dog in a rainstorm and pushed his glasses higher up his nose. “Uh,” he said, and tore his gaze back to her. “Well, unfortunately, we gotta clean up the mess we’re making. We need some garbage cans.”

Whew! Congrats on making it down here if you did, and if you didn't, well it's time for tags ;)

@reneesbooks @charlesjosephwrites @eccaiia @mister-writes @talesofsorrowandofruin and anyone else who'd like to share <3

[writingmaidenwarrior]

7 Snippets 7 People

I was tagged by @oh-no-another-idea I post the 7 favorite snippets from "Moon Daughter"

Again, Neil rubbed his arm, what drew Connors attention to it. With narrowed eyes, he fixed Neil with a warning growl. “Don’t tell me you went to a witch.” “I didn’t go to a witch.” Even in Neil’s ears, it didn’t sound believable. Connor let go of his shoulders and threw his arms in the air. “Fuck, Neil, are you nuts? What did she take as payment?”

Satisfied he could cross out one of the steps he planned already, Connor went to open the door. The neighbor’s kids ran past him with happy yells as he crossed the hall to his apartment. “Hey hun”, Danika opened the door with a broad smile. Her hair has been put in box braids with a colorful ombre effect going from purple to white, which was already a tell-tale sign her sister was over. “Hair day already?” “Yeah, what do you think?” She wiped her head. “Gorgeous as always, hun. Is Candice still around?” With a smirk, Connor snuck his arm around her waist and kissed her cheek.

She spotted the woman in the dancefloor surrounded by a few guys with her boyfriend aside watching closely. Everything about the way he held himself and how he watched the dancefloor told Mika he trusted his girlfriend but not the other guys, and if just one of them did something she wasn’t ok with, it was an instant ticket to hell. It made her snicker when she caught herself thinking this gave her back a little faith in humankind.

“Damien’s kid. She is the alpha’s kid we are looking for. I was born in this pack. My connection is stronger than yours. Asra is impatient.” “I know. It takes all my control to keep Silas from barging over.” With a deep heaving breath, Connor looked over to the bar that started to become less crowded as the night slowly turned into morning. “I like to see you bossy for once. You always have so much patience for everyone.” “One day you might see me push around Neil if he continues like this.” Snickering, both took another sip from their beer bottles. “The same as usual?”, Danika asked after a moment of peace.

Neil scanned the room and found Erebus where he was to be expected: Close to the house bar, lounging in an armchair with a glass of wine. Again, Neil had to wonder if Erebus did this bad impression of a Hollywood vampire with his ruffled shirt and tight pants to lead people astray or because he thought it was funny.

“You know I am good. That’s why Damien liked to send us. So, tell me, how did it go with the girl?” “Mika…, she agreed to come with us. She is a more concentrated and direct version of Neil.” Laughing, Danika fell on top of him. “This will be funny.” As on clue, his phone went off. With her still on top of his, Connor fished for it and made a face when he saw the caller ID. “Speaking of the big bad wolf.” He answered the call and put Neil on speaker. “Hey buddy, you are on speaker. Danny is with me.” “I am not disturbing some private time, am I?”, Neil teased with a suggestive tone. “You wish”, Danika shot back. “Not at all, contrary to what you may think of me”, Neil laughed.

Fondling with the necklace she got when she was little, Mika couldn’t help herself and wonder if her mother tried to keep her away from the pack for some reasons but sadly, she couldn’t ask her anymore. For the first time in the last two years Mika wished her mother was still alive even if she hoped she had been past this point by now.

I tag @zmwrites @captain-kraken @sam-glade @serotoninshift @lexiklecksi @writernopal @eternalwritingstudent

[hrokkall]

Mama gave me music lessons,

now I play the saddest songs

[rowanisawriter]

wip wednesday (finally)

i found a snippet i can share without forty pages of accompanying context because of how obscure the AUs that haunt me are lol here is achilles being sad in troy from an upcoming chapter of glass slipper

.

He isn’t entirely sure how long they’ve been here, fighting and waiting for fighting. Sometimes it feels like he was born here on the sand, listening to the familiar crash of wave after wave on the shore. Here, the sounds of the water mix with the always chattering, running, cleaning, clamoring, drinking, laughing, crying soldiers in the camp. He can’t pull apart the sound of the waves from the sounds of the soldiers. Dimly, he knows Phthia’s waters sound the same, but the way the camp’s ambient noise has woven in with the ocean’s makes him feel as though he’s on an alien planet, that this isn’t a real ocean, that these aren’t real people.

[hippolotamus]

witch!Eddie/shifter familiar!Buck 👀👀👀

Hello! At the moment I only have one new tidbit for this one. Enjoy 😘

“You did well, mijo.” Abuela cups his face, brushing her thumbs across his cheekbones. “Abuela!” He giggles and squirms away, hopping down from the wooden step stool he’d been standing on. “Did I really do a good job?” “You did,” she confirms. “It’s refreshing to see you so interested and wanting to learn. Of course, eventually you’ll have to.” Abuela purses her lips, something darker passing over her features. Only for a moment and then it’s gone again. “I find it’s better when a student wants to know.”  “How else am I gonna help people when I grow up?” “A very good point! I would expect nothing else from you, with such a big heart. I have a feeling you’re destined for incredible things.” Eddie beams up at her, hoping what she says is true. Because he does want to make a difference, maybe as a healer. But, more than that, whatever he becomes, he wants to make Abuela proud. If he can manage that one simple goal, surely the rest will take care of itself.  Right?

ask me 'bout my WIPs

tagging some other folks who asked about this one as well @lemonzestywrites @daffi-990 @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @wikiangela

[author-a-holmes]

Heads Up, Seven Up Tag Game

Thank you for the tag @coarsely <3

Rules: Share seven recent lines you've written. Tag up to seven people (Or more, or less, Whatever you're comfortable with ^_^)

Gonna share some from Darkling today, so I'll pop it under a cut so that people can avoid spoilers.

And if this doesn't FEEL that close to the end of the story, that's because it's not. I've been working on adding an extra chapter between the current chapters 12 and 13 ;-)

Tagging forward to; @authoralexharvey @sleepyowlwrites @amewinterswriting @talesofsorrowandofruin @isabellebissonrouthier @cwritesfiction @theunboundwriter

And anyone else who wants to play, consider this an open tag ^_^ <3

“Then you must learn to fight as a vampire would.” “I’m about as good at that as [Redacted] is!” Booker snapped, and Lizzy flinched, surprised at the bitterness to his voice and although Olwen didn’t recoil the way Lizzy had, she went very still. One eyebrow arched slowly, and Booker backed down almost immediately, running both hands through his messy hair. “You want to place a blade in my hand and teach me to kill,” Booker muttered, and Lizzy’s breath caught as the pieces began falling into place. “And I… I can’t even lie and say I want you to. I don’t.” “Booker?” Lizzy asked softly, waiting until he looked at her, before reaching out unsteadily to touch his mind.

[space-writes]

Seven snippets seven people

tagged by @oh-no-another-idea, thank you! I’m seven chapters into this rewrite if you include the prologue, which I do, so here’s a snippet from each so far~

[ID - a green and black decorative divider]

1.

The ancient thing stretched as much as it was able in the dark stone it had been entombed in. Joints cracked beneath faded scales; precious metals and gems that needed light to glitter tumbled from where they had been embedded in sleeping flesh. The long tail uncoiled, sending an army of spiders and other, nastier little many-legged things scurrying for the safety of the deeper dark. A faint glow returned to its eyes, a deep orange that burned with starved malice. Valloroth had forgotten it as it slumbered away the years. It had not forgotten Valloroth.

2.

“Your price, Prince Sorrow?” Sorrow laughed, and waved without looking back at them. “Don’t worry, my Lord. The bill is already on your desk.”

3.

He had a sword, and the monster had a body. All he had to do was bring the former into deadly contact with the latter.

4.

“What’s all this ‘we’ business? I can let a giant monster do whatever it likes.”

5.

The wizard was Damiri. “Do you prefer star elf, or snow elf?” Lucian had asked. “I prefer Leshanna,” she’d said, primly, “or Miss Orvad’ray Tethkatla to strangers, but given you’re all in my bedroom, I think it’s a little late for that.”

6.

Quest slammed their scimitar down with absolutely no finesse, but more force than Lucian possessed in his entire body. “No worries, that’s what we have swords for, right? You go that way, I’ll go this way, then on three—bam! Got it?” “I—” But Quest was already going. A dozen strategies flew through Lucian’s mind, none of which matched anything the Zashi had said, so he did as he’d once been told and forgot the books. His feet carried him forwards, and his arms brought the sword around in a clean swipe that he had to abort at the last second because it almost took off Quest’s arm. “I said go that way!” “I did go that way!”

7.

The arcanist at last turned in his chair, fixing Sorrow with a piercing golden eye. The other was nothing more than a glint deep within an empty socket of bare bone—half of Rivaanlehnim’s head was a skinless skull, living flesh melding into bone along a weaving seam of scar tissue. Where teeth had used to sit on that side were now metal-cast replicas, each of which, Sorrow knew, had been painstakingly inscribed with spells that required but a word to bring to life.

[ID - a green and black decorative divider]

tags & taglist under the cut!

no-pressure tagging @the-inkwell-variable @revenancy @ceph-the-ghost-writer @charlesjosephwrites @sam-glade @talesofsorrowandofruin and @zmwrites

Valloroth taglist: @cherrybombfangirlwrites @reininginthefirewriting @memento-morri-writes @foxboyclit @lawful-evil-novelist

@at-thezenith @morganwriteblr @fayeiswriting @serenanymph

@sam-glade @viscerawrites @thegreatobsesso @flower-reads (ask to be +/-)

[kurtsascot]

wasn’t tagged this week, but i want to share.

last week i had a family health emergency so… im a biiiiit behind on where i wanted to be for klueless BUT! the dust has settled and im slowly getting back into writing YAY!!!!!!

here’s some kurtcedes!!!!!!!! my babies!!!!!

“You are never this nonchalant about a makeover on the brink of extinction.”

Kurt turns his head to face his foot, avoiding Mercedes’s eye in subtle protest.

After everything that happened with Sebastian, the last thing Kurt can bring himself to care about is Rachel’s feelings. Kurt may still be dedicated to finding her a beau, but…like, this snafu is partially Rachel’s fault anyway. Kurt would have never set her up with Finn if she hadn’t drooled over Blaine the second she saw him.

Kurt tightens his hand around his white canvas sneaker, gaze narrowing on the blades of grass just beyond his toes. “Why do I have to be the one to talk sense into her? Can’t you do it?”

tagging for art/fic/whatever:

@porcelainvino @rockitmans @cryscendo

@warblercore @fallevs @daisyishedwig

@blurglesmurfklaine @burkleswinifred @unholy-fabray @special-bc-ur-part-of-it AND ANYONE ELSE !!!!

[shadow-space-writes]

heads up seven up

tagged by @oh-no-another-idea, thank you! i’m very nearly done (!!) with The Perils of Wanting, so here are seven lines from that ft Ashenivir being Ashenivir and not understanding his own pining, as per usual

[ID - a purple decorative divider]

Up the hall, the red marker was still tied on his and Rizeth’s playroom. Moths in his chest again, agitated, a furious swarm, and that awful, hollow feeling that he was missing something important. I’m not missing anything, I have everything I want, it’s just comedown, I should go back to the room and wait for— “Ra’soltha?” His heart twisted. I want him. I’m already his, but I want him.

[ID - a purple decorative divider]

no-pressure tagging @cherrybombfangirlwrites @loopyhoopywrites and @talesfromaurea

Obedience taglist: @foxboyclit @belovedviolence @thegreatobsesso (ask to be +/-)

[dyrewrites]

Heads Up 7 Up

@revenantlore got me with this one ^.^

I'm tagging @kaylinalexanderbooks @stesierra @shepardsherd and leaving it OPEN

“Is it truly safe to let them leave, treasure, what if they don't return?” His concern was duller than the words implied. And I smiled at it, “It will be fine, my love. They want to stay with us.” Tilting his head, the thought was clear before he gave it breath, “Mm, did my treasure practice that delicious voice again?” Taking his arm in mine, I watched the sigils on the Lune Royale light—ever so—as his boots left its plank and laughed low and quiet before answering, “Not that I know of. They asked to stay, for some reason, my love, they seem to like us.” “Hmm, you, maybe,” while the night was yet full and dark beyond the lamps hung from posts we passed, he carried his parasol as one might a cane, swinging it around as we walked. And though his thoughts scattered with what I'd said, he focused, addressing what he meant, “you're so warm and welcoming, my love…I can't imagine anyone not wanting to stay with you.” Too sincere those words, too sweet on his lips, I had to taste them.

[oh-no-another-idea]

Seven snippets seven people XI

Thanks for the tag @autumnalwalker! Here's some Bent Nails or Something for you!

1.

“Don’t you want to explore the place we’re going to be living for the next few months? I know I’m dying to see the garage.”

Sutton couldn’t help it; she laughed. “The garage, Mom, really?”

Mom smiled, wide. “Yes. Don’t you think you can learn a lot about a man from how he keeps his garage?”

“Um, sure,” Sutton said, accepting the toast offered to her. “I think the first thing we should establish is whether he has cameras in it.”

2.

Michael finished his popsicle and tucked the stick in his pocket. “I have work to do.”

“Yeah, no shit.” [Sutton said.]

“I thought we agreed to peacefully coexist for the benefit of the rest of the household,” he said sternly. “I thought you were going to leave me alone.”

3.

She could picture the headlines—did this town have a newspaper? It seemed respectable enough—Newcomer lands herself in juvie after smashing up the city policeman’s only car. Except it wasn’t a police car, thank heavens. It was a pickup truck, like the one Michael drove around, only gray and a little less dusty and old.

4.

Behind him, Jacob and Sutton were lifting the scrap into a large gray trashcan. The floor was covered in sawdust and plaster. The kitchen already looked better than it had before. Not that Michael was going to voice that.

He was going to do the work, make sure Sutton could hold a hammer properly, keep her from getting murdered and stuffed in a tree, and get the hell home to take a hot shower.

Angela and Nick had better be grateful.

5.

Sutton led the way back to the truck, leaping across the driveway and once, stretching up to catch a firefly.

“Aren’t you tired?” Michael finally asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “But mostly, I just feel good.”

6.

“What’s that on your hand?” Angela asked, handing him a water glass and touching his wrist. The phone number Jacob left behind in damning black ink stared back at them.

Well, shit, Michael thought. He said, “Phone number.”

7.

Sutton left her sandals on the floor and after a moment’s thought, her shirt too, leaving her in a sports bra and shorts, waiting.

“Tally ho!” Jacob hollered and took a flying leap off the porch.

@late-to-the-fandom @catchingbigfish @lavender-laney @aziz-reads @rydykg

@eccaiia @space-writes and anyone else who'd like to share <3

[tortoisebore]

last line tag!!

ty for tagging me @behaveddestroyerrating 🤲💕✨💗💞 (p.s. i read your snippet at work and almost choked on my afternoon coffee omfg you monster ilysm <3)

chapter 7 is coming in all her sweet and (only kind of) smutty glory i promise pls bear with me while i make her pretty 🤲

“Sirius,” Remus said, voice low—quiet. Sirius was holding his breath, felt goosebumps flicker across his skin as Remus reached up and brushed his hair behind his ear, let his finger catch on one of the tiny silver hoops in his cartilage before it trailed slow and too-soft down the side of his neck. “Do you want to come home with me?”

Sirius nodded vehemently—fuck yes, he did, what kind of fucking question was that? He said as much, gave a breathy little “yeah,” that almost caught on the way out and stood transfixed, watched as Remus’ eyes went a little darker. He tilted his chin up a bit when he felt Remus' hand loop at the base of his neck, thumb settling at the hollow of his throat.

“If you come back with me, that’s it,” Remus warned. “No leaving, no taking it back—if you come home with me, I need you to stay.”

tagging @moonheavens and @plecotusauritus and everyone else who wants to do it! <33333

[autumnalwalker]

Heads Up Seven Up Tag

Thank you for the tag, @kahvilahuhut.

Passing the tag to @blind-the-winds, @ceph-the-ghost-writer, @talesofsorrowandofruin, @a-crows-corner, @meerawrites, @aestatismors, @cljordan-imperium, and an open tag for anyone else who wants it.

From the next Empty Names main chapter (with one extra line since this took me so long to reply to):

“What did you learn?” Ashan asks. 

“Nothing.  Not yet,” she hastily amends at the sight of an elegantly arched eyebrow.  “Data’s all been collected, yeah.  But it’s still processing.”  She gestures to the loading bar that’s appeared on the screen. “Going to be a bit for the computer to translate it all into something human readable.”

“Is that normal for using a computer, or is this supposed tattoo on the back of my neck truly so complex?”

“A little of both?  But mostly it’s because I scanned a whole bunch of extra data while I was at it.  Once it’s done we’ll have a full physical and metaphysical baseline for you that we can use for comparison if you ever get sick, injured, or cursed or something.  Should make the healing process easier, having a save state to restore your body back to.  Could probably even duplicate the enchantments on your robe if it ever gets lost or damaged.”

A flicker of… some emotion… crosses Ashan’s face.  Impressed?  Bemused?  Annoyed?  Offended?  Did she say something wrong?  Is talking about replacing a wizard’s robes some kind of taboo?  Or is she reading too much into it?  Once again Lacuna silently curses herself for being so incompetent at reading people.  It doesn’t help that whatever the expression was came and went so quickly, like a tiny ripple subsumed by a great lake.  Except the Great Lakes are large enough that they probably have all sorts of waves and currents so probably not a good analogy for Ashan’s -

“Do I have something on my face?”

Oh goddess she did it again; zoned out while facing in someone’s direction so it looks like she’s staring.  She spins her chair back around to keep the creeping redness in her face toward the computer monitors and away from Ashan.

“No.  Nothing on your face.  Well, other than makeup, obviously.  And that’s fine.  Perfect even.  I was just thinking hard.  About a thing.”   Did she just call his makeup perfect to his face?  Someone kill her now, please. 

[crackinglamb]

7 snippets, 7 mutuals

Tagged by @theluckywizard, thank you! 💕

Tagging @lilbittymonster, @ir0n-angel, @mordinette, @fogsblue, @pikapeppa, @natsora and @the-desert-dancer. No pressure!

...I actually have almost the right number of WIP's to just use those, but I'll include some posted stuff too. And being super, super long, I'll put it all under a cut.

From WG, ch 63 (Solas/OFC, complete):

“Tell me something of your world, arasha.”

“My parents got divorced when I was ten. That means they permanently ended their marriage. I lived most of the time with my mom, but I spent summers at my dad's. He married again when I was thirteen. Jill, my stepmother, likes to garden.” She shifted away from him as she spoke, rinsing the soap from her back while he watched, listening intently. She took the soap back from him and turned him around, so she could return the favor.

“She planted herbs and vegetables that grew easily where we lived, peas, beans, tomatoes, that sort of thing. But she planted flowers too. I used to help her when I was younger, pulling weeds from the rose bed, trying not to get snagged on the thorns. In the evenings, we'd sit on the back deck and watch the wildlife in their yard. Sometimes there were hummingbirds that came and sipped from her bee balm. They're so tiny, no bigger than a butterfly. And they're quick and shy. You have to stay really quiet if you want to watch them. It always gave us a thrill to see them, especially late in the summer, when they were teaching their fledglings to fly.”

She cupped water in her hands to rinse away the soap and ignored the sting in her eyes. He was motionless under her touch, his head cocked, still listening. “My world is filled with technology, with busyness and noise and everyday chaos. To sit in the garden, perfectly still, to watch hummingbirds takes time and patience. A mindfulness to appreciate nature that isn't the least bit affected by the world around it.” She made a final pass of clean water over his back and then laid her palm against his skin, feeling him breathe. “I haven't seen any hummingbirds here.”

He turned in her arms and drew her close. She rested her head on his heartbeat and let him smooth back her curls, pressing the water out of them until they were springy. “We shall have to find them, you and I.”

From Junkyard Dogs, ch 14 (Hancock/F!SS, complete):

When the music was done, and settlers began drifting off one by one to seek their beds, Nora took his hand and walked with him to the quiet spot where they’d buried Nate. A simple small plinth marked it.

“There are no rituals left,” she said, grazing her fingers over the cut stone, “to mark the passing of those we’ve lost. No comfort in faith, no tokens of remembrance. In this new world, a cemetery is only a place you’ll likely find ferals. The meaning behind it has been lost.” He stood quietly by her side, wondering what she was getting at. “I didn’t want that for Nate. I don’t want that for myself.”

She faced him then, and he could see she’d been crying silently, the tears steaking down her cheeks. He wiped them away with his thumb. She took his hand and pressed something small and warm into it. When he looked, he saw it was a ring of gold.

“Nora…”

“I want you to wear it, and I want you to understand what it symbolizes. It is the union of two people, who have agreed to commit themselves to each other.” She held up the hand bearing the ring’s twin. “I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, any more than I knew what was going to happen that day we stepped into the Vault. So much of my life has ended, or changed beyond recognition. But this idea, at least for me, has not. I once had a dream of spending my life with the man I loved, of raising a family with him, of living out our lives together in harmony and happiness. And it was stolen from me, by Kellogg, by the Institute. Nate is gone, but the dream is not.”

From The Turning Tide (Iron Bull/OFC, WIP):

Mira ducked into her tent to find Bull propped on his elbow on her bedroll, the journal where she’d taken all her notes spread across his hands. It was all in shorthand, of course, the same one she’d used for years working for Leliana. She wasn’t sure if he could read it. She was equally unsure about whether or not she wanted him to. It would make things easier for her as far as explaining what she’d seen, but the disadvantage was that he could send back a far more detailed report to his superiors than she thought she wanted him to have access to.

“How’d he take it?” Bull asked. She would think it was absently given his tone of voice, but she knew him. Half blind or not, he never missed a thing.

“Academically. I don’t think the whole weight of it has hit him yet,” she replied, plucking the journal from his hands as she sat down in the space between his arms. He took the tacit invitation and wrapped them around her. Solid, strong and real. She leaned back against his chest and he held her up. She closed the journal and waved it at him. “Let Sister Nightingale see it first, okay? Then I’ll give you something to report back to Par Vollen.”

“Hmm. How bad was it, Chestnut?”

“In your own words, it wasn’t pretty. And you were right, it wasn’t.”

“Was it a good death?”

“No.” She let her voice turn flat. Because there was no universe in which what happened to him was a good thing. “It was only the best you could make it.”

From Destiny Is Just In the Timing (Varric Tethras/Shae Cadash, WIP):

Hawke was still tacking up when she reached him. He smiled down at her. “You don’t have to see me off.”

“Yes, I do.”

His smile turned a little melancholy, as if he was remembering that morning too. The day he left Kirkwall and she stood in the snow to watch him go. “I suppose there’s a precedent set.”

“Yes.”

He finished packing his mount and knelt down to her. They embraced as tightly as they could bundled up as they were. Fereldan he might be, but even Hawke wore a coat in these mountains. When he stood again, it was with reluctance, the first he’d shown since announcing his intention to leave them. But the decision was made, and none of them could change it now. Weisshaupt was expecting him.

“I’ll see you again, Inquisitor. This isn’t goodbye.”

“I will hold you to that, Champion.” She watched him get into the saddle and made way for the scouts who would be going with him down the trail. Before they left, however, he turned to her a final time and she called up to him. “Write to Fenris. Living, not just surviving, remember? Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“Fair weather and open roads, Garrett.”

“And to you, Shae.”

From Right Beside You (Eric/Sookie, WIP):

“You don’t entirely trust me, but you’re not afraid,” he said. Again, it was an observation, not a question. “My house. My things. Yours.” He cocked his head at her. “Are you mine?”

“I’m not.”

“Would you like to be?”

She opened her mouth to give him an automatic ‘no’, but the phrasing made her pause. His tone was so genuine, so earnest. He was actually asking, as if her opinion mattered to him. As if he would respect her wishes, no matter what they were. He seemed to realize that this was something more serious than an offhand inquiry, and let her go. But he didn’t move away, and neither did she. He always loomed over her, he was so tall and broad. And he was accustomed to using his size to intimidate. In all their years of acquaintance, she’d never let it bother her, and that had always seemed to entertain him. So many people feared Eric Northman. She often wondered if that was part of her appeal to him. She had never been one of them.

From Not a Bad Life? (Nine/Rose, WIP):

“Hey, come sit with me. Wearin’ out the floor isn’t going to get us out of here any faster.”

He grumbled a bit, but then he sat behind her, pulling her into the meager shelter of his body heat. They shifted the leather around so it covered her front while he was at her back. His knees rose beside hers and he leaned against the wall. They had a pair of bunks on the other side and a tiny toilet behind a screen, and that was it for the night’s accommodations. She supposed it could be worse; they hadn’t been separated.

She nestled against his hearts, listening to the double thump. As always, it soothed her. “We’ve gotten out of worse scrapes than this.”

“I know. I just don’t like being forced to wait around.”

“You’re so impatient.” Superior Time Lord, indeed.

“Aye.”

She stifled a snicker at the Northern coming out so strongly. “Ya know, you could always try resonating the concrete.”

He huffed against her hair. “Never gonna live that down, am I?”

“Nope. Hey, want you to know something. I wouldn’t trade any of the danger we’ve faced. You know that right?”

“Why not?”

“Because in exchange for it, I got you. You’ve shown me all these things, shown me a better way to live. To be. I wouldn’t give it up for anything. You’ve changed my life.”

From All the Earth and Air series (Lark Cadash/M!Hawke; Lark/Solas, WIP):

Hawke was surrounded by everyone who could fit into the tavern, telling tales and drinking more than a few tankards, judging by the empty ones littering the table. She pushed her way through the crowd, bringing two more with her. He made room for her next to him, sitting sideways on the bench so she was bracketed by his knees even with a polite distance between them. She made sure he ate.

Later, when the tales were all told and the bard was playing soft music to lull the patrons into peacefully finding their beds, they found themselves in a dark corner, nursing one last tankard each.

“Does it come off?” she asked, indicating the stripe of red across his nose and cheeks with a pointed finger. He swiped his thumb over it, grimacing behind his hand for a moment before looking back to her with his typical insouciant expression.

“Are you trying to get under my armor, Lark?” he asked with a sloppy sideways grin and another gulp of his ale.

She smiled back, soft and small, like a private joke. “Bare skin is honest. I have enough masquerading going on around me.”

“And all of them either too in awe of the title or too terrified of your mark to let it fall?”

“Yes.”

He made an effort to sit up straighter, to even out the crookedness of his commiserating look. “I'd ask if you wanted to go to your place or mine, but...well...” He gestured around at the tavern, and the fortress at large. “It seems to all be yours, doesn't it?”

“Come with me,” she said, standing up with barely a wobble and offering her hand to him.

From Some Kind of Resolution, ch 1 (FemShep/Nihlus Kryik, complete):

“Isn't henna a type of ink?”

“Yes, it is. I'm surprised a turian would know that, no offense.”

He gestured at his face. “Call it something that stands out culturally, as a form of marking.”

She nodded, thinking about the N7 tattoo on her upper arm. “Okay, I get it. In my case, it's just short for Jehanne.”

He was giving her a thorough look now. “Jehanne. Would that be Jehanne Shepard?” he asked after a moment.

This is it, she thought. Once they recognize my name, it's all over.

“Yes,” she answered, wary.

“I thought you looked familiar. Commander,” he inclined his head briefly. “You showed remarkable courage and skill at the Blitz. It made you something of a celebrity, didn't it?”

She made a face, equal parts disparagement and accepting. “Yeah.”

“It can be hard to live with.”

“Oh, would you know about that?”

“Some. Turians don't place the same sort of entertainment value on our heroes. Doing one's duty should be enough of a reward. You humans love to gossip, though, and put people on pedestals, if that's the right expression.”

“Ah, yes. Meritocracy, right? And yeah, that's the right expression.”

“You're well informed on the Hierarchy.”

“Alliance,” she said with a shrug of one shoulder. “I've studied your race, its history and whatnot. Well, really, we've gotten a crash course on all the races. It's a bit mind boggling, I'll admit. But...fascinating.”

“Hmm, fascinating,” he echoed her, and his voice had distinctly dropped from polite to interested. She wondered what it would be like...

“You wanna stay here and exchange cultural differences or you wanna get out here and experience some?” she asked boldly. His gaze turned calculating, but he smiled just the same. Without another word he signaled for the check.

[tabswrites]

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Ascension is moving in a new direction, so here are a few lines from the new prologue:

Sadira reached out and traced the outline of Itis’s face with the tip of a sharp black claw. “We are deathless. As long as that is true, as long as I am breathing, I will love you. It is your light I wish to protect–for man’s selfish nature is catching, and your refusal to see their faults causes pain only I can feel. Their greed and violence will wear you down until you are bone. I would rather spend eternity in darkness than watch the woman I love burn herself out of existence.” Her other hand came up, brandishing a dagger made of glowing red metal. “So burn me instead.”

[cherrybombfangirlwrites]

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Have some The City is Ours, light angst with Asher and his boyfriend Damian. Not sure when this is exactly as we're still on Draft 0, somewhere after book 3 I think in the series, after Damian's little secret is revealed.

The med bay didn’t exactly look like you’d imagine. There were hospital style beds, but they were all adorned with mismatched bed sheets that had silly and colorful prints on them, and everyone had contributed some decorations for the walls. Well, Kylee had contributed the most with her paintings.

There was only one curtain for the whole bay so far, and it was actually a shower curtain with planets and stars and the solar system on it. There was also some furniture like mismatched armchairs and coffee tables in the middle, some of the armchairs next to the hospital beds themselves, also having patterns on the cushions that were brightly colored and silly.

Asher sat down in an armchair by Damian’s bed, this chair having a pink background and flying pigs on it. Where Gabby got all of this fabric and such a vibrant collection, Asher had no idea.