#Palace Hallways WIP

[gemmahale]

Okay, I need opinions (and a poll is too long because I don’t want to wait a day.)

Which is better? (No context other than it’s in a medieval AU and this is the first time you meet them.)

You step on your skirt climbing the ladder in the library to reach a book and fall into a handsome knight’s arms. (Edited: we’re talking like…a rung or two, not a 2 story tumble.)

Your skirt snags on a stone set in the palace walls, and you tumble into a handsome knight’s arms trying to regain your balance.

I’m also open to other thoughts, these were just two I thought of. 😈

Feel free to reblog or comment your thoughts.

[madstronaut]

WIP WRITES RIGHTS NOW! I SAID WIP WRITES RIGHTS NOW

blahblahmaster rant list link blahblah dont look at me

PSA when you only just discover a moot is a prolific writer you run to read all her writing and comment in excruciating detail cc: @gemmahale

blorbo x named oc fans, this one’s for you (it’s me, im talking about me)

please see below a random and incomprehensive ramblelist of my stream of consciousness as I sampled from gemma's works:

Feylands WIP

I find the content warning tags extremely titillating (also I have not seen such a prolifically well organized tag list AND color coordinated to boot like gemma’s blog???? putting my outlook inbox/work docs/excel sheets to shame!!!) and I don’t even read/like fae stories (yes I never read ACOTAR and I don’t plan to anytime soon, I missed that booktok ship, most likely cos im not on the tikky tokky as the children like to say, i watch the reposts on instagram like a proper mlllenial)

Josephine’s heart pitter-pattered at the compliment, heat climbing up her cheeks as she mumbled a thanks, their eyes locking again. 

🥰🥰🥰NOT THE PITTER PATTER

my inquisitive ass is already like “what’s gary’s real name” and “hearing aid = soap b/c of all the damn bombs he blows up?” “but i headcanon gaz with freckles, maybe it’s gaz? gaz = gary?” “or maybe ghost = gary?” GEMMA GIVE US WIPS I MEAN HINTS PUT ME OUTTA MY MISERY

Call of the Wild WIP

I love the little note gemma included about this being inspired by @deadbranch (shoutout to branchy btw my beloved) - honestly floored at all the beautiful fic/headcanon/drabbles/askfills ive read that are the brainchilds birthed from love for other creators’ brainchildren

also equally floored at how many of writers here are like “this incredibly layered/moving/tender/spicy/nasty fic came to me in a dream”

also SUBVERTED TROPES SUBVERTED TROPES SUBVERTED TROPESSSSS

Kyle cleared his throat, shifting his stance. “She prefers to be called a wolf.”

AHAHAHAHAHAHA GODDDD THIS WAS A ZINGER

“Please!” Kyle called back, face half covered in shaving cream.

i need fanart of this right fucking now let me, i mean shannon, sorry oops but haha..unless? finishing shaving you bby

and FUCKING ROACH IS IN THIS FIC HOLD ME BACK OR YOU *WILL* GET CAUGHT IN THE CROSSFIRE OF ME TEARING APART THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE BECAUSE MY BRIEF HYPERFIXATION ON ROACH IS BACK WITH A VENGEANCE FROM THIS SMALL SNIPPET AND IN THIS 500 PG DISSERTATION I WILL-

also THAT PROLOGUE APPETIZER SLAYED ME

“The way I see it, you’re fucked either way. You don’t make it out of here, you’re fucked. You become mine, you’re fucked - but in the good way.”

this + the mention of bulge + damp cheek definitely brought a visceral IRL memory for me (affectionate/horny)

also sidenote: it’s the little things that matter and gemma i see you gurl and salute you - incorporating things like hearing aids, mentioning roach is HoH/using sign language, shannon using a shower cap for her curly hair - 😘👌

Corporal Distraction WIP

holy MOTHER OF FUCK THIS SHORT LITTLE EXCHANGE IS FUCKING HOOOOOOOOOT

The captain moved closer to her, gently lifting her chin up with his finger. “So you’re the bird that’s got my sergeant distracted.”

“Sir?”

“Been trying to figure out what’s got Gaz so twisted up lately. Figured it was a partner, didn’t think it was a Corporal under him.” He didn’t release her chin, now holding it between his thumb and finger. “Has good taste, at least,” he muttered, eyes shifting to the Lieutenant, who only huffed in response.

any premise that fucks with/frustrates/sleep-deprives soap has my heart 🥰

Flowers From My Love WIP

the bit where they discuss the casserole perfectly encapsulates each of the boys imho - price grunting out a response, soap eagerly asking about the food (such youngest of the group/im baby vibes), gaz picking up on the note and name/# left, ghost grumbling and ofc he fucking HAS to bring up manchester- 

and the MOODBOARD!!!! God I fucking love when writers flesh out a bit of their worldbuilding with related art, moodboards, face claims, etc etc etc i WILL lick up every crumb from the floor like a starving doggo- fun fact, one of my first interactions in cod fandom was requesting a moodboard from @the-californicationist (also shoutout to cali my beloved)

and PEPPER THE SERVICE DOG OH MY LORD PLEASE GOD IF THE 141 MEN CAN’T BE REAL LET PEPPSY BE REAL PLEASE GOD IF I HAD TO ASK FOR ONE THING FROM THIS CURSED HELLSITE-

Palace Hallways WIP

my mind blacked out at artificer soap and knight kyle and druid ghost - I also just finished a campaign with my homegroup IRL not too long ago and we’re taking a long break before the next game while our DM preps and this is making me miss playing with them ;-;

Edge Dressing WIP

KATE KATE KATE KATE KATE KATE that’s it that’s the tweet

“She did, did she?” Kate murmured, scratching at Letty’s scalp and smirking as the woman went boneless against her.

yes only natural, i too would also go boneless if laswell was scratching my scalp and giving me a massage mommy? sorry. mommy. sorry? mommy. sorry?

Embroidered Secret WIP

if someone told me a year ago when I wasn’t into regency shows/fics that reading some COD AUs - yes fucking CALL OF DUTY, the military propaganda first person shooter video game - would change my mind - well id be more shocked than if someone flashed some ankle at my victorian pearl clutching ass

also please i love every single trope listed here

141 Studios WIP

“Our sweet soft girl Samantha (plus size rep ftw!) finds her niche quickly as the resident camgirl - creating a new set of films called "Tip of The Tongue", where she (and others) commentate on the scenes being filmed in a behind the scenes way.”

fuck i would read an entire multiseries for this premise alone???

Crew scramble around to clean up the sweat and cum streaked across the couch to reset for another scene.

fun fact - i briefly interned as a PA in college and one of the producers i worked with mentioned offhand that he once rolled up to a set that was cleaning up after a porn shoot and claimed they were rolling away literal barrels of lube 👀

“You the new girl?” His voice was deep, rumbling like stones cascading down a mountain.

NEW GIRL, OLD MAN, BLUE BIRD, CLOWN WITH A BUCKET HAT, I WILL BE ANYTHING FOR YOU PS!SIMON

A Protege’s Trust WIP

The most titillating tag of all..an empty one! lol jk im just messin with ya gemmy but actually yes i don’t see any posts with this tag

Museum Muse WIP

ahem you already know my rabid thoughts on this but noticed this new post re: multiple timelines and tbh do I know what’s going on? absolutely not - do I want to dive into this museum muse multiverse regardless? absolutely yes

Brix WIP

Re: “If it’s a story about learning to be loved again after a series of devastating losses, can that story then end on another loss? (And should the epilogue soften that loss by allowing them some sort of reprieve?)”

YES! i need to be in a certain mood to read angst but GOD WHEN I AM IN THE MOOD DOES IT HIT THE SPOT/FEEL SO CATHARTIC

also re: these comments - “Also, a bit of catharsis for my shitty experience working in the orchard industry.”

“It's less of a love story and more of a healing story. It's also a bit of a middle finger to the orchard that nearly hospitalized me. 🙃 (It's healing not only for the characters lol.)”

i find these types of fics are some of the best ive read when the writers have IRL experiences bleed into their writing - just has a certain je ne sais quoi about em

also i could be knee deep in sewage sludge and if i sensed soap within a 1 mile radius i would throw myself at him, brb busy handforging a trophy for annabeth for having enough willpower to continue working while JOHN SOAP MACATAVISH WHINES ABOUT WANTING TO COP A FEEL

Squeamish Stitches WIP

✨GLITz!!!! ✨fucking love this name

“God, I’d die here a happy man,” he grumbles into your thigh as you adjust your balance. 

His hands wrap around your calves, grunting as the treads dig into his shoulders. “No, between your legs.”

Ghost interrupts. “Keep it tactical, Sergeants.”

THE FUCKING BANTER? GHOST COCKBLOCKING GAZ? FUCKIGN SCREAMINNG

Useful Girl WIP

you had me at “we gonna get nast-ay kink-ay” and also got strong “secretary” with maggie gyllenhaal + james spader vibes 

also i had to look up ‘brown bottle flu’ as i’ve never heard that term before! ✨i learn somethng new with fanfic daily✨

She felt the breeze as the door opened behind her, the whiff of cigar smoke and cologne causing her to shift in her seat and sit up straighter.

if you’ve ever smelled/heard someone before you saw them it is *quite* the experience

“It's the prickle of the mountain's oncoming storm. It's the flapping of the flag in the howling wind. It's the explosion of lightning hitting a tree, splitting it open, part charred and part living - two states diametrically opposed to each other. It's the sigh of relief when the clouds finally part and the rain pours out. It's the breath of fresh air when the storm dissipates and everything is left clean.

It's yearning so hard for something that it leaves one fundamentally changed when they achieve it.

...I really ought to make moodboards for this fic. 😅”

this was an incredible fucking paragraph to read, fucking poetry right here, also incredibly erotic? though that might just be leftover brainworms in my head from watching shogun and a scene where one of the main charas describes an orgasm as “clouds parting after rain” 

Highland Tartans WIP

She reached her hand into his wool, petting him. “He comes from a good line and all, he’s just young.”

MacTavish laughed, sliding his hands to rest on his waist. “Aye, young and dumb. I know the type.” 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

PLEASE GOD GEMMA

I CANNOT CHOOSE FAVORITES BUT SPARE A THOUGHT FOR MY FREE TIME AND WORK HOURS WHEN YOU POST MORE OF THESE AND AT LEAST SPREAD THEM OUT SO I CAN KEEP MY JOB AND PAY MY BILLS INSTEAD OF GORGING ON YOUR WRITING

anyway to sum up i am fully convinced the multiverse lives inside of gemma’s brain because goddamn i am convinced once day some god-tier epic space opera multiseries is gonna spring out fully formed like athena from the gemmamind (yes I compared you to zeus, a mythical god, deal with it)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: Outta left field.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The brick facade stares back at you. You have to keep from gaping in awe. You're not a sightseer, you're there to work. A job. Your first ever. A bit late, but better than never.

You stop at the gate and hike up your kit as you shove your hand in your pocket in a cramped search. You slide out the flip phone and pop the top, clicking through for the email. The cheap burner is all you could afford and you needed a cell to get any sort of employment. Even just to live, it seems.

You click on the agency's email. A concise list of instructions for your first day. Alone. Last week, you shadowed a woman named Florence as she took you through an east-side home, but this week, you're on your own and uptown. The property is much nicer than any you've been in before. The sort you gaze at longingly in passing. A true urban palace.

You follow the first point on the list, keying in the code awkwardly with spaced-out punches. The last beep triggers a buzz as the mechanism releases and you turn the haandle to let yourself through the iron gate. You close it, pushing it to make sure it catches. You look around at the greenery; expertly trimmed hedges and a stone bench, flowerbeds clustered artfully in all shades. A mini Versailles in the heart of the city. The owners must be very well-off.

You gulp as you follow the stonework of the winding path along the curved driveway. Your shoulder aches from the weight of your kit and your spine is still rigid from the tense bus ride. You approach the front door and stagger to an awkward halt as you check the screen again. In all caps; DO NOT USE THE FRONT DOOR. You peer up over the stone steps and give a nod. Of course the help should go through the back.

You circle around to the rear of the house, the scent of pollen and the freshly groomed hedges clouding around you. You find the door nestled beneath a net of ivy and key in the next code. The very modern security contrasts the antique veneer of the house. You step into the silence of the grand home and listen. You're not sure if you're alone. What do you do if you aren't? It might be awkward to wash someone's floor without an introduction.

You move to the next directive; cover shoes. You squint and suck your lower lip in. You see the small box on the corner table tucked beside the door. You stay on the mat as you pull on the plastic shoe covers. It makes sense. You don't want to track in another mess to clean.

Again, your breath flies away from you. Even just the back hallway is divine, or maybe you're just brutish. You're not very hard to impress with what you're used to. A job won't cure it, but it'll make it bearable.

The next point; gloves. Okay. At least it's straightforward. The owners must be very particular. Or germaphobic. You let your assumptions write a story as you advance into the house. The email directs you to a closet where you are permitted to hang your things and where a mop, broom, and vacuum await you amid other supplies too big for your bag. Next point…

You proceed inside, slowly. The instructions are written almost to guide your every step. You move down the hallway with duster, broom, vacuum, and finally the mop. You're sweating by the time you get to the first doorway. The kitchen. Despite your employ, the place is already near immaculate. The only sign of life is a single black mug beside the sink.

It's eerie as you cross the tile, investigating with your eyes, almost too afraid to touch. You're going to have to if you mean to do good work. You continue down the list, doing your best to be thorough. When you return to the hall you're caught in place by a thought. There are no family pictures. It adds to the emptiness of it all. There are portraits of famous landmarks and imitations of reknowned artworks, though you wouldn't be surprised if they were genuine. But no family.

Next point. A bathroom just diagonal from the kitchen, spacious with dark wood and shining gold. You leave it smelling with the sterile scent of the cleaner. Back in the hall, you pause to drink from the water bottle in your bag. You head back down the hall intent on your next task. An hour already.

Another large room; a dining room that opens into a sitting room with a large fireplace. It really is amazing. Your father won't believe how nice it is here. You don't have time to worry about convincing him as you dive into your work. It isn't difficult work but you want to do a good job. You get this knot in your stomach just think of your boss, Clara, telling you otherwise or going home with bad news.

You finish the sitting room and go back to get your water. You nearly finish it. You check the time again, then the list. You can refill before you continue. You go back to the kitchen and cross to the fridge, pressing your bottle to the lever beneath the filter. It'd be nice to have something like that at home. You listen the hum of the fridge as you fill your bottle.

"Ahem," the clearing of a throat startles you and you jump, splashing yourself with cold water as you spin to face a tall man. He stares at you imperiously from the doorway, his figure lithe as he holds his chin up in dissatisfaction. "And who said you could do that?"

"Um," you swallow and look at your water bottle, fingers numbed by the water, "sorry, sir, I ran out--"

"Clean up your mess and get back to work," his lilted accent slices into you.

"Sorry, sir--"

"Bullet number one, A," he says tersely.

You frown as you struggle to understand. You replace the cap on your bottle and fish in the pocket of your black pants. You take out the phone and check the email. 'Do not speak unless permitted.' Well, he spoke to you first. It's the only reason you said anything. You're not very chatty yourself.

You keep from repeating sorry again and dip your head down. You take the cloth tucked into your pocket and bend to sop up the water from the floor. You don't look at him as he looms and you exit the room, sidling past him in shame. Oh no, you hope he doesn't tell Clara.

You replace your bottle in your bag. You'll go without. You look at your phone again. You can do this. No more mistakes.

You march back down the hall and dare a glance into the kitchen as you pass. He's already gone. That must be Mr. Laufeyson, the owner noted in the job description. Is it just him? He doesn't seem very fond of others. Or just you. You're just a maid, after all.

🧹

Your father's apartment is in the south. The fence is crooked and missing slats and the grass is patchy and yellowed. The porch groans as you climb the steps and let yourself into his side of the duplex. Cigarette smoke greets you with a cough in your throat. You open the window he shut in your absence as the TV blares in the next room. He's on the couch, puffing tobacco into the air in gray swirls. The place is even grimmer after a day amid your client's spotless halls.

"Hey dad," you say as you stand just beside the couch, "how was your day?"

He grunts and offers nothing else. That's about what you get from him. The effort of just that noise sends him to hack and his wrist tangles in his oxygen tube as brings his hand up. He knocks ash from the end of his cigarette onto the floor.

"First day alone went well," you say as he settles, breathing loudly as he tries to steady his breaths. "Think I did pretty good."

"Oh, big whoop, got a job, at last," he sneers, "about time. What're you? Thirty-three?"

"Thirty," you correct him, but don't add that your birthday is coming up.

"Same difference," he croaks and sucks on the smoke until he's coughing once more.

You try not to let him defeat you. It's just the way he is. You brought home A's from school and he wondered why they weren't A+'s. And when you got accepted to college, he asked you who was gonna pay for it. And when you filled out an application at the drive-thru window, he asked you if you were going to be another deadbeat flipping burgers.

"What, they got you scrubbing floors?" He spits, "you don't do it for free or something?"

He looks around venomously. You do clean but you can't get the yellow stains out of the wall or the stench out of the carpet. You won't say so.

"Did you eat yet?"

"Can't be near the stove with this thing," he taps the top of the tank on the other side of the armrest. He's also not supposed to smoke near it. Or at all.

"I'll heat up the hamburger helper from last night."

"Fucking dog food," he barks.

You wince. You love your father but he's a very picky man. Things must be his way or no way at all.

"Might have a frozen pizza," you suggest.

"Cardboard," he mutters.

You stand, silent and helpless. There isn't much else left in the fridge.

"Could afford better if you'd got your ass up ten years ago," he buts out his smoke and just as quickly, opens the pack to slide out another.

"I tried..."

"Not hard enough, eh," He takes off the oxygen tube and leans away from the tank to light the next cigarette, "not hungry. All your talkin' spoiled my appetite."

You apologise and leave before you can annoy him further. You're not very hungry either. Just sore and tired. Your feet hurt from being on them all day and your eyelids droop lower with each blink. You climb the stairs and drag your feet into your bedroom and shut the door gently. Your father hates when you slam. You don't like it much yourself.

You fall into bed as the musty air clings in your nose. You close your eyes and roll onto your side. You sigh. You figure if you can handle your father, you can handle Mr. Laufeyson and his list.

🧹

Your next job is in the eastside. It's not as precise or overbearing. The instructions are standard; a list of the rooms that need cleaning and a tip left on the counter. The email says the family is out of town. How nice it must be to come home to a nice, clean house. You pad out the three-day week with two more home in the northwest suburbs. The money would be better if you could work a full week but so long on you're in your probation period, you only get part-time hours.

Your second week starts again in the north, outside the Laufeyson property. The codes are different but the list is the same. You begin your work diligently. This time, you ration your water, and pay special attention to each step. Once you're through this week, you get your first check. Dad should be happy about that.

As you get to the front room, a living room or what some might call den, you set first to dusting the ornaments on the high mantel. You find the more you do it, the work is almost soothing. It's simple and mindless. You admire the silver candlestick, careful not to loosen the tall candle placed in it.

"Shiny," the slither frightens you. You quickly replace the candlestick at the corner of the mantle and face that man; the presumed Mr. Laufeyson. "Somehow, I feel it wouldn't belong in wherever you call home."

You lower your eyes. Florence says most clients are friends but she warned you about these ones. Those who deride you and the work they don't want to do themselves.

"The previous one did think they were lovely," he muses as he struts forward, his long steps like a cat's, "too bad they were too big for her bag."

You flick your gaze back up and blanch. "Sir, I wouldn't--"

He tilts his head as his eyes flash dangerously. You snap your mouth shut and give an apologetic frown. You press a finger to your lips to say, I'll be quiet.

"She was chatty too. You girls always are."

You nod and listen. Your throat constricts as you wring the cloth in your hands. You think you might not be very forgiving if someone tried to steal from you either.

"But..." he looks at his watch, "you are quick."

The comment drips from his mouth as if it tastes bitter to him. It isn't quite praise, only a fact, but it isn't a reproach. He smirks and snickers.

"And you do look rather terrified. We're understood then."

You give another nod. You think you understand. You wouldn't think to steal but you can't blame him for putting down rules. You squint and your brow twitches as your ears tinge.

"Point one C," you whisper to yourself; 'Do not steal.'

He pauses as he goes to pivot on his heel. He lifts his chin and shifts as if he might look at you. He doesn't as he carries on to the door.

"You may refill your bottle once per shift," he pauses by the door, tapping the frame before he leaves you.

You stay stuck to the floor, wavering as you watch him go. He wasn't nice, but he didn't dismiss you either. You can stomach his disapproval if it means you still have work.

[scorpioriesling]

Dangerous Woman (pt 2)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Eris x reader

Warnings: ehh… none

Summary: Now that Eris is finally ready to confront his feelings, will reader do the same?

SR’s Note: My apologies for the wait! I have so many WIPs, requests, multi-part series, etc. right now. I appreciate your patience & continued support <3 Tags: @lilah-asteria @infintyfandoms @peachcontour-blog

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

The soda water is a relief to your pounding headache as the morning progresses, a constant reminder of the night before and just how much alcohol you’d consumed. If not for the headache, the state you were in would surely give it away; smeared makeup, ratty ponytail, the works. Thankfully, you’d rested in your own bed last night, Eris being the gentleman he is escorted you home after your… well…

That in itself was a reminder.

You couldn’t help but smile just a little bit, even though you knew today you’d have to face up to what had happened. It wasn’t the part about wondering if Eris would return his feelings — he’d all but laid them out on a silver tray for you last night. However, would said feelings change when he found out how you’d manipulated him into thinking you were someone else for a sexual experience? Well, yes. That part was rather terrifying.

Usually you’d feel heavier than a ton of bricks trying to drag yourself from bed, but this morning it’s the hope in your heart lulling you to the shower and quickly to your vanity to allot extra time for your primping before work. You knew you’d see him today, you had to be sure you were ready and obviously looked your best. Not that you’d been out drinking and, well, having sex with him the night prior.

Your burgundy milkmaid dress was simplistic but flattering, dipping low enough but not too low to anger the High Lord. Tying a ribbon to match in your curled ponytail and touching up your lip gloss once more, you set off for the Autumn Palace.

ﾟ:* ✧

“These need to be filed immediately.” Beron’s voice was flat as he plopped another hefty stack of papers onto your desk in the East Wing of the Palace. He only so much as glanced at you, making to move from your office without so much as further instruction. You nod quickly, the Lady of Autumn catching your eye from the doorway as she followed him out.

“Thank you,” she mouthed. You nodded your head politely at her, earning you a kind smile in return, one that reminded you so much of her oldest son. Speaking of…

The clock on the wall read half past three, and you hadn’t seen him all day. Usually you’d at least see him during your lunch hour as you’d stroll through the gardens, sitting under an oak tree for a quick chat or catch him passing your office a few times a day. Come to think of it, he didn’t have much need to be in the East Wing, but you’d at least find him passing by your office once if not twice a day.

Sighing, you move quick work of the record keeping, signing and dating the records and filing them into the correct folder drawers lining the walls. You tried to focus on your work, you only had thirty minutes before you were to leave, but you hoped to finish early and maybe find Eris somewhere. He had to be around, where else would he go?

Your mind wandered to last night, the way his hands felt on you, his lips, how beautiful he looked bathed in the moonlight…

You stop yourself, halting from filing a record in an incorrect folder. You shake your head, ponytail swinging side to side. Let’s just get through this, you think, turning back to your work.

ﾟ:* ✧

It’s nearly four in the afternoon when you shove the last file away, and you practically race from the office, locking it hastily and bounding down the long marble hallway toward the central courtyard. Your eyes dance from left to right, no one in sight inside or beyond the windows. All that is heard are the pattering of your maroon flats as you continue your hasty path toward the West Wing — the family chambers. If he wasn’t in the East Wing, the gardens, the offices, even the central courtyard, he must be in the West Wing.

You skid to a halt when you hear a conversation becoming louder and louder, the High Lord of Autumn’s familiar angry tone increasing in volume as you continue down the hallway. The last thing you need is to be caught, especially near the family’s quarters after hours. You make a split second decision, veering right down an unfamiliar hallway and pushing through the large wooden door at the end of it.

Your eyes squint at the afternoon sun blinding your vision, and taking a deep breath, your nose furrows at the pasture smell you’ve come upon. Taking in your surroundings, you realize you’ve left the palace, running right outside to the horse stables in the back. You glance around, noticing the large barn in front of you and not a soul in sight. Taking a few exasperated steps inside, into the shaded barn, you let out a loud sigh and sag your shoulders.

“What the FUCK!” You shout, a soft neigh coming from a stall in the distance. You bury your face in your palms, the weight of the day finally sinking in and your longing feeling all too heavy. You didn’t want to wait, you’d waited too long for this, been a coward too many times over to keep waiting. Now it was simply because you couldn’t find the male-

“Y/N?” A soft voice from behind you questions. You immediately straighten, your arms falling to your sides at the recognition. You turn slowly, heavy footsteps drawing nearer by the second.

“Y/N, are you,” Eris’s fingers lightly grace your exposed shoulder and you literally jump at the contact, causing him to retract immediately. His eyes search yours, his face the portrait of concern at your unusual attitude towards him.

“My Gods, Y/N — are you alright?” He asks softly. You face him, your mouth only opens to speak and you close it, unsure what to say.

“I… um…” You try. He reaches for you again, but thinks better of it, curling his fingers into a fist and dropping his hand.

“My dearest friend have I,” he swallows, unfurling his fingers to twist the silver ring on his index finger nervously. “Have I done something wrong?” He asks. Your eyes widen, and you take his hands in yours. His gaze flicks toward the contact, but your focused on his face.

“No! Oh Gods no Eris, never,” you assure. His whisky irises meet yours again, brow furrowed in uncertainty as his thumbs delicately trace across the backs of your palms.

“Well then, what has you so upset?” He asks. His tone, the honestly in it just breaks your heart in two. You knew this would be hard, but standing before him, before your Eris, the male you’d loved so long… admitting your truth would be the hardest thing you’d ever done.

But, it had to be done.

“I… I didn’t see you. Today.” You begin. He smiles a little, the corner of his mouth tilting upward as his gaze fixates on your delicate fingers still sitting in his.

“…I didn’t know you’d been looking for me.” He says after a moment’s pause.

“I was,” You continue. “I had… a matter. To discuss, with you I mean.” You stammer. His eyes drift toward yours once more, gazing at you through his half lids.

“Mhm… and that matter was?” He prods. You sigh, pulling your hands from his grasp and turning from him. You pace, taking a few steps and then turning back toward him once more.

“What’s so important you can’t talk to me about? Come now, we’ve been friends for…” he tilts his head. “Well, forever, anyway.” He shrugs. You meet his gaze again, and he scoffs looking away. “Unless you came to tell me you dropped the male you’ve courted, I can only await the day-“

“I never courted a male, Eris.” It comes out more forcefully than you’d like, but it has him peering at you once more in confusion.

“What are you talking about.” His voice has dropped an octave. He doesn’t ask — he demands. Heat creeps up your neck, all the words in your head feeling like the milky substance of the Cauldron, bubbling, bubbling…

Bubbling over.

“I never had a male to begin with Eris, I only said that because I was doing things to try and get your attention, because every time I would think I was getting close with you, you’d shut me out so I made it up-“

“Stop.” His voice halts your rambling. The short red locks of his hair fall to his forehand as he shakes his head slowly, eyes downcast toward the ground below. “Just… stop.”

You bite your lip, trying to keep it from trembling. You were sure he was going to banish you from speaking to him ever again, and you hadn’t even gotten to the worst part yet.

“Eris, I… there’s more-“

“I slept with someone last night.” He interjects. You raise your eyebrows at his interruption, and his apologetic gaze meets yours after what feels like an eternity. “I went to a brothel. And I slept with another female.”

You only stare blankly at him. “Eris, that’s… you’re allowed to bed whomever you please-“

“Not when I’m so madly in love,” he steps forward, grasping your hands once more and holding them close to his chest. Your breath hitches, his eyes searching yours for any answers. “I’m in love, Y/N. I have been for a very long time, I think.” Your bottom lip quivers and you allow it, tears stinging the backs of your eyes as the moment you’d only ever dreamed of was finally happening right before you.

“Then why push me away for so long?” You whisper. Eris’s face falls slightly, but his hands slowly snake their way around your arms and down your back.

“I wouldn’t live if anything ever happened to you Y/N,” he says, leaning in closer. One tear falls as you gaze hopefully into his eyes, and he wipes it away with his thumb. “You know how my father is. He’d destroy anything I hold most dear to my heart.” He swallows thickly, and his nose bumps yours gently. One hand rests on your waist, the other still cupping your cheek as his thumb gently brushes over the skin.

Inch by inch, he pulls you closer, eyes fluttering closed when his soft lips finally touch yours again. This feels different, this kiss is so soft, so tender and full of love. You can’t help but allow a few stray tears fall, parting your lips to keep kissing Eris as your hands find their way to his shoulders. He holds you close to him, only pulling away to come up for air a few minutes later.

It’s quiet, the only sounds that are heard are your shared breaths and the fidgeting of the mares in their stalls around you. He gazes down at you, resting his forehead on yours before he shakes his head and chuckles. You can’t help but smile up at him.

“What is funny?” You ask. He sighs, pulling back a bit to run his gaze over your face, down your neck and over your chest.

“I’m but a fool for not realizing it sooner,” he mutters, still shaking his head. You only raise an eyebrow.

“Realizing… that we could have been together much sooner if you’d just allowed me in before now?” You tease. He looks skyward, contemplating.

“Perhaps,” he suggests. “Or, realizing the beautiful female who sits behind a desk all day is actually quite the little performer after hours,” your cheeks heat at his accusation — the realization that he’s finally figured it all out.

“Isn’t that right, bunny?” Your jaw drops dumbly, and he tuts.

“Ohhh bunny,” he purrs lowly, running his thumb over your bottom lip. “Don’t leave your mouth open like that unless you want me to put something in it.” You close your mouth, eyes wide at his bold choice of words outside the confines of a private room. His hand has begun tracing idle circles through the fabric of your dress at your waist.

“Eris… I was going to tell you-“

“Doesn’t matter. Figured it out anyway.” He shrugs, his other hand moving to cup your cheek once more as his amber eyes bore into yours.

“Right now I’d rather you use those pretty lips to kiss me again anyway.”

ﾟ:* ✧

[chunkypossum]

WIP Wednesday #2

Rememberwhen Itold y'all about a horrible little thought I had?

Me: Oh what a heartbreaking LITTLE idea about Azriel finally finding his mate but it NOT being the male he is already in love with. This is TOTALLY going to be a super short one shot . Also me: 🤡

This isn’t quite finished and ended up growing to 30k!!!

Set during Winter Solstice so I’ll be posting the first 13k for:

Azris week day 7

The shadows squeezed lightly in encouragement, moving up his body until they were like a plate of armor against his chest. A plate of very… friendly armor. They were stroking Eris like a lover and he felt his breath hitch. It was as if Azriel’s hands were roaming over him, pinching and teasing lightly until he could barely see the hallway in front of him. Eris had to stop and brace himself on the nearest wall while he tried to right himself again. The shadows stilled slightly, enough for Eris to suck in a normal breath or two before he restarted his journey. He was able to take only a few steps, just enough to turn the corner into the next hallway, when they pressed against such sensitive parts of him that Eris’ knees buckled. Clutching at the wall for support, his breaths came in heavy pants. “Azriel please.” He whispered into the dark around him. The faelights, barely keeping up with the inky blackness of the night. There were no windows in this hallway. More shadows joined the ones already caressing his body. They curled lovingly around his wrists, tugging him forward. Blinded by trust, Eris forgot everything else and let them lead him away, deeper and deeper into the palace. Eventually, he was so far from the revelry that it was just a quiet murmur somewhere behind him. As quiet as a memory.

Holla at ya boi if you want on or off the Azris tag train :

@talibunny30 @iftheshoef1tz @born-to-riot @fell-in-luvs @fieldofdaisiies @aktrain @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @secret-third-thing @acourtofladydeath @pippsmcgee @youvereachedthenearest-lovergirl @baileybird71 @skyesayshi @yanny-77 @areyoudreaminof @unanswered-stars

[wangxianficrecs]

Rewind 2023 - Follower Recs Part II

WangxianFicRecs - Rewind 2023

Before the year ends, we want to share more recs of your favourite stories that were published this year. All these recs were submitted to WangxianFicRecs anonymously and most of them without further comments, so you will have to check them out yourself~

Rewind 2023 - Follower Recs Part I

~*~

After I Met You

by Amandyalmonds

M, WIP, 78k, Wangxian

Summary: "They’re not going to go through with the marriage proposal though, right?” Jiang Cheng reasoned. “You’re ours. And surely the Lan sect wouldn’t want a huli jing, let alone the famed Hanguang-jun.” “Exactly," Wei Wuxian said with a grin. "The Lans are too stuck up to know how to handle someone like me, and they won’t risk forcing their precious Hanguang-jun into such a marriage.” Or, after the end of the war, Wei Wuxian is offered as the last known huli jing to marry into the Lan royal family. The only problem is that Wei Wuxian has never met the man he's marrying, and he's not sure he'll survive in a palace with over three-thousand rules.

~*~

it rains, it pours

by jublis

Not rated, 130k, Wangxian

Summary: Wei Wuxian dashes across the distance that separates him from his husband, like a child running through the dark as if that would lessen its existence. He grabs Lan Zhan’s hand and holds the arm close to his side, to a soft breath of laughter. “Come on, Hanguang-jun,” he half-whispers, because the atmosphere seems to call for it. “Light the way for us.” (Wei Wuxian has scarcely known fear to be gentle — and still. It's as if there’s something murmuring down the hallway, behind the closed door, next to the window in this howling storm: I’m here, I’m here, I’ve always been here…) Or, as Wei Wuxian starts to look into the reasons behind the unsettling notion that something is not quite right, something else starts to look back.

~*~

Take My Pieces, Make Me Whole

by InTheGreySpaces (@inthegreyspaces)

M, WIP, 203k, Wangxian

Summary: Lan Wangji reunites with Wei Wuxian in Yiling only to discover that their union in Xuanwu's Cave nearly three years ago had an outcome he never could have anticipated. Instead of leaving the Burial Mounds that evening, Lan Wangji stays, and his actions set in motion a series of events that will save Wei Wuxian and the Wens. But first, he must battle Wei Wuxian's own lack of self-worth, the clutching hold the resentful dead are determined to keep on their champion, the greed of Jin Guangshan, Jin Guangyao's machinations, his own Uncle's unbending disapproval, and the hatred of the Cultivation World. However, friends and allies are found in the least likeliest of places, and eventually, there is a light at the end of the single-log bridge.

~*~

The Housewife's Guide to Causing Chaos

by dvasva (@dvasva)

M, WIP, 127k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: “Of all the rotten luck I could have!" Outside, in between the gentle embrace of an imposing misty mountain and the caress of soft wind, stood the Cloud Recesses. It wasn’t a section that Wei Wuxian had recognized from his time in the sect, but the motifs of clouds and cranes in the buildings, the impeccable feng shui and carefully manicured paths, and the utter silence as the sect members slept peacefully, all burned themselves into Wei Wuxian’s eyes. No wonder the curtains were so firmly nailed to the walls! Any bit of demonic energy escaping the room could call down a veritable army of righteous cultivators! What sort of person in their right mind would dare to summon a spirit into their own body using resentful energy in the Cloud Recesses of all places? What kind of person would scoff so rudely at the Lan Clans most important rule, ‘Do not fraternize with evil?’ After being dead for four years, Wei Wuxian wakes up in a body he doesn't really feel comfortable with, in a place that he's sure wants him dead, and married to a man who surely hates him.

~*~

A Hop, Skip, and a Jump

by Prince_Enby (@enbiart)

T, WIP, 47k, Wangxian & LSZ/OYZZ

Summary: Two years after the events of Guanyin Temple, the Junior Quartet unknowingly walk into an array during a night hunt, and walk out into the middle of a war. None of them are even slightly prepared to deal with the opportunity dropped into their laps - and yet, despite it all, Ouyang Zizhen's biggest concern is somehow still the fact that everyone thinks he and Lan Sizhui are married.

~*~

fans for hanguang-jun

by saltyfeathers

M, 21k, Wangxian

Summary: “What I mean,” Wei Wuxian repeats with as much gravitas as he can muster, “is that every single day in their marriage bed, the Yiling Laozu sp—spears open the most esteemed Hanguang-jun on his—his mmmmmmonster cock!!!” wei wuxian gets kidnapped by a team of belligerent bottoms.

~*~

not wx in the fic

ruin this on me

by loosingletters (@loosingmoreletters)

E, 2k, MXY/WWX/XY

Summary: Mo Xuanyu raises his head from Wei Wuxian’s shoulder to mouth at the exposed skin at his neck, leaving bruises and red stains from his lip balm. He forewent the white foundation today; it is more of a hassle in bed than an enhancement, and he carefully avoids the delicately painted huadian from smearing. Wei Wuxian exhales, not quite a moan yet, and Mo Xuanyu grins against his skin before biting down. The Yiling Laozu is a kind master, sweet to his heir and family, but he is not a gentle man. His breathing hitches at the sudden pain, an approval on its own. Or, Mo Xuanyu pays special attention to his sect leader and shixiong.

~*~

💕

the past drifts away with the waves

by thelastdboy (@thelastdboyy)

E, WIP, 28k, Wangxian

Summary: The next time Wei Wuxian became aware of his surroundings and was able to form semi-coherent thoughts, Wen Zhuliu had just finished tying weights to his feet. Both his arm and his back were still bleeding and he felt as if he had been flayed. “Should I make it quick?” Wen Zhuliu asked him, offering a small mercy. But Wei Wuxian shook his head. “Give me your worst,” he snarled, his teeth coated in blood from where he had bitten his tongue at some point. “I will come back to end you all,” he promised darkly. “Very well,” Wen Zhuliu merely said and drowned him. Or: Yu Ziyuan cuts off Wei Wuxian's hand to appease the Wens. He gets drowned in the lake behind Lotus Pier and resentful energy transforms him into a river spirit. After avenging his own death, he finds his way to Yiling.

~*~

this story plus the lovely podfic

if this one could be ransomed

by harborshore

T, 2k, Wangxian

[podfic] if this one could be ransomed

by jennisaisquoi (@jennisaisquoi79)

T, 10-20 Minutes, Wangxian

Summary: Lan Wangji is too late to save A-Yuan. Sick with grief and pain, he throws himself back in time to try again. But he goes back too far.

~*~

a thousand lifetimes

by SapphyreLily (@sapphyrelily)

G, 2k, Wangxian

Summary: Immortal Sizhui doesn't always go looking for the reincarnations of his fathers, but they always find him, in the end.

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for these hard-working authors if you like – or think others might like – these stories.)

[spell-cleaver]

♡🌹♡

Really excited to share this fic soon!

When Beru was marched through the dusty hallways of Jabba’s Palace, she didn’t cry. She’d been here before, after all. It had been a long time, but she’d remember. She had to.

For every 🌹I receive in my inbox I'll post one sentence from a current WIP of mine!

[ravenwilds]

wip game - modern royalty au

Thank you @nuttersinc for the tag for the WIP game. I don't know if this one is ever going to see the light of day - but here's an extract anyway ...

A key turned in the lock. It startled Arthur from deep in a book that he’d been reading to try and distract himself, while he waited for the last hours of an awful day to drag themselves to their unsatisfying end.  “Morgana?” he called out, a little tension in his tone, as he strained to see who was clipping down his hallway, even though it could hardly be anyone else – keys to royal apartments generally weren't handed out to all and sundry, after all. Her familiar, quick, sharp steps reassured him even before he could see her, and by the time she reached his sitting room he was already lounging back against the arm of the sofa, pretending to be deep in the book, his habitual mask of nonchalance back in place. “Brother mine,” she greeted him, as she lent down and brushed a peck over his forehead. He glanced up but she’d already turned away from him and was putting her bags on the armchair, so she didn’t see the fondness in his smile. There was a tenseness across her shoulders and she sighed quietly as she slipped off her heels. She undid the chain on a heavy, gold pendant she was wearing over her black, cashmere jumper and rolled her shoulders as she dropped it into her enormous handbag. As she turned back to face Arthur she pulled the clip out of her hair and shook her head, letting her dark ringlets fall across her face. She ran her hand through them and smiled tightly at Arthur. “It says a lot about what cunts most of the people in this palace are, that I am really quite happy to see you.”  Arthur spluttered and then laughed. In his artificially constructed life, his weekly dinner with his no-bullshit, half-sister was a life-saving anomaly. But that was quite an opening line, even for Morgana.  “Let me guess, you have spent the afternoon with father and his advisors? Or Uncle Agravaine? Catrina? Geoffrey?” She sunk onto the other end of the sofa and tucked her stockinged feet under the soft, wool blanket, which he left there because she always had cold toes. Curled up on the sofa, with her hair down, in a black jumper and designer ripped-jeans, she looked so normal – stunningly beautiful of course – but nothing like the ice princess that the papers painted her to be. She yawned and stretched her arms above her head. “I don’t even want to talk about them. How are you?” Arthur didn’t want to talk about any of it either. He shrugged. “Same same. You know.” 

No pressure tagging @thesongistheriver @citharaposts @eachpeachpearplume @gyrhs and anyone else who wants to join in :))

[foxglovecove]

In which the Loki variant from the episode that lives in my head dies in battle with He Who Remains (Kang? Is it Kang? Are they one and the same? I haven’t watched Quantumania so I’m unclear if this is supposed to be the same character? I’m assuming so?)

Anyways, this is just self-indulgent art cuz I’ll never be able to write the story I have in mind but I can attempt to do some scenes from it.

More ramblings under the cut

Originally I was thinking Sigyn would also wear Loki’s colors to show they’re a united front, but I like the idea of her having her own color palette and then each of them having some small details as a nod to the other, at least when it comes to their battle clothes. I gave Sigyn here blue and gold with some green here and there for Loki, and Loki got a bit of Sigyn’s blue.

If they had been given a chance to grow old together their colors would probably blend more as sometimes happens with old couples (ha), but alas they never got that chance. Sigyn also gets pointy elf ears cuz who knows maybe she’s a descendant of the Dark Elves somewhere along the line. Who’s ta say?

Back to the story/episode idea:

It’s been about a week since TVA Loki and Mobius have shown up in Sigyn’s timeline. They’re still searching for this timeline’s HWR and haven’t had any luck so they decide they need to draw him out. Not sure how yet, it’s a WIP, but at any rate one evening there’s a party at the palace. Not sure why, maybe someone’s birthday, or they’re just having a good old fashioned “it’s winter, let’s feast” party or something idk.

Everyone’s having a good time but Sigyn has been a bit melancholic since Loki returned dredging up old memories. She leaves the party discreetly and goes to this one long hallway where there’s a massive long memorial relief depicting Loki’s life, culminating in the battle where her Loki was killed.

She’s alone, or thinks she is, as she runs her fingers over the carving of her Loki. She smiles as tears form, she’s thinking about their time together when she senses someone there with her. She begins to speak:

“We were just kids when I met him. You…him…” She turns as our Loki comes out of the shadows to stand beside her. “Millennia ago now, but I remember it like yesterday…”

So she walks Loki down the hallway telling him their story. How they fell in love, how Thor had decided he didn’t want the throne because he fell in love with a mortal woman and how her Loki didn’t want it either, he didn’t feel worthy of it, but he was. And he was good at being king, he was loved by his people and they all mourned with her the day he died

Scene ends with her holding Loki’s face in her hands and just smiling and saying thank you cuz she got to see him again. Loki’s full of all the emotions and before Sigyn wanders off into the night he hugs her and holds her for a while. She also takes the opportunity to “borrow” Loki’s TemPad (unbeknownst to him. She’s a trickster too, after all, learned from the best). She’s curious about this whole time jumping, fate of the multiverse stuff

At the end of this so-called episode, after they’ve caught this timeline’s HWR and returned to the TVA with him so they can read his temporal aura and hopefully prevent the meltdown of the loom, Sigyn has a talk with her sons, telling them it’s their time to rule. When she’s alone, she pulls out the TemPad, activating it: it’s time for her to have adventures of her own

[yourlunarspice]

WIP Wednesday

From Chapter 3 of my currently-updating fic, Where Hope Fades! I try to avoid giving spoilers as much as possible, so only short excerpts!

———

While he was walking through the hall after one of his classes, the student council president intercepted him. “Ren Amamiya,” she said coolly. “I’m to escort you to the principal’s office for a random bag search.”

Random, my ass, he thought snidely, but followed her anyway.

These so-called ‘random’ bag searches had been a regular occurrence ever since he’d begun attending Shujin. Morgana had even become an expert at slipping out of his bag and hiding someplace until Ren returned, annoyed at the frequent breaches of privacy.

Finally, his bag was given back to him, a fake apology was said, and he was pushed back out into the hallway. “I’ll let your teacher know you’ll be late.” The words were thrown at him carelessly, only seconds before the door shut behind him, fast enough to create a gust of wind that billowed his hair.

Sighing, Ren turned and made his way down the hall. His eyes were fixed on the wooden planks under his feet, dark and light interspersed sporadically.

It made him think of the Palace.

”You’re… Amamiya, right?” The voice made Ren look up, slightly confused as to why anyone was voluntarily talking to him.

[eventinelysplayground]

New Experiments

This story is the third one from my WIP Poll a while back just two left now! I'm not 100% on this fic but I'm overall happy enough with it. This one is a bit different as it focuses more on Emma with a side character that we haven't seen in English yet but she's been in several fan translated events and I wanted to expand on Emma's relationships with people outside of the princes. The only info needed is that Yuel is an apothecary/pharmacist who becomes Emma's teacher after she moved to Jade. I don't know the fandom overlap here but Yuel gave off major Matsu from Sekirei vibes whenever I would read events she's in so that along with the translations was my guide for her. There will be a sequel to this in the future just I wanted to do them as two seperate fics. Yuel and Emma conduct an experiment which leads to both of them being excited for different reasons. WC approx 1379. CW: mentions of pregnancy. Also thank you to the ancient Egyptians for their knowledge which made this story possible.

“Now this plant is quite interesting! It has strong implications as a replacement for some harder to find ones with minimal effect on efficacy which would open up so many possibilities. Oh, but do be careful when handling it as it's thorns are extremely sharp and.. Emma?”

Emma was having a lesson with Yuel on some of the new plants being cultivated at the palace, or at least she was supposed to be having one. All her mind could seem to focus on was the scents.

“Emma!”

Emma's head reflexively moved back as Yuel snapped her fingers in Emma's face.

“Yuel, I'm so so sorry!”

“What's gotten into you Emma? Normally you're a model student but lately it's been hard to get your attention.”

“I know and I'm sorry it's just…”

“Just what?”

“The plants.”

“The plants?”

Emma watched as Yuel looked around at the various plants she had brought out for today's lesson.

“Is one of the new ones bothering you?”

“It’s not just the new ones, it's all of them.”

“All of them? Are you sure?”

“Yes! All these plants and flowers, and the wet soil ugh.”

Emma dropped her head onto the desk in frustration and let out a long sigh.

“I don't know why but any strong scent lately bothers me, I can't even stand the smell of roses anymore!”

Emma looked up at Yuel to see her staring down at her with her arms crossed over her chest and a sneaky smile on her face.

“Let's forget about these for today, I have something else I want your help with.”

“What?”

Emma was yanked from her chair as Yuel pulled her up and started practically rushing out of the room and down the hallway.”

“Wait Yuel, where are we going?”

“First I need to stop by the palace infirmary and pick up what I need for my experiment then we're going to my quarters.”

“What experiment? Can we even do an experiment in your quarters? Yuel? Yuel!?”

Now it was Emma who found herself being ignored, apparently forgotten in Yuels enthusiasm. Just as they reached the infirmary Yuel came to a sudden stop.

“Actually it's probably better if you wait here for me Emma. I'll be right back, don't go anywhere!”

Emma watched as Yuel hurried off into the infirmary. She hadn't been waiting very long when she heard a familiar voice call out to her.

“Emma?”

“Prince Keith!”

“What are you doing outside the infirmary, did you get hurt? Are you alright?”

Emma waited as Keith walked towards her looking concerned.

“It's sweet of you to worry about me but I'm fine.”

“Are you certain? I know you said as much this morning but you really have seemed unwell lately.”

“I'm certain. I'm just waiting for Yuel she said she wanted to-”

“Talk to the physicians about an order that I completely forgot about! It's all sorted now though so if you'll excuse us your Highness but we need to get back to the lesson, come along Emma.”

“Oh okay, I'll see you later Emma.”

“Yes of course!”

Emma once again found herself being dragged along behind a quickly moving Yuel. Once they were safely away from the infirmary Emma spoke up.

“Just what exactly is this experiment if you aren't telling Prince Keith about it?”

“You'll see soon, my quarters aren't far and I promise to explain everything then.”

Those were the events of five days ago and they kept playing over and over in Emma's mind making it hard for her to concentrate on anything else. She had gotten up early and was now just about sprinting through the palace hallways on her way to her teachers quarters. It wasn't easy keeping a secret from Keith and she hated to make him worry about her still but it was best to wait. She reached Yuels door and had barely knocked when it flung open and Yuels arm shot out grabbing her and pulling her inside.

“I was going to go and get you if you hadn't shown up soon.”

Yuel enveloped Emma in an almost smothering hug.

“Come take a look.”

Yuel gestured towards the workbench set up in a corner of her room. Emma let out a breath she wasn't aware she was holding and slowly walked towards it. On top were three dishes containing some seeds, the seeds in the first dish still looked dormant but the seeds in the other two had begun to sprout. It had worked, it had really worked! Emma was hit with waves of emotion and she clasped her trembling hands over her mouth in shock.

“Oh Emma!”

Yuel placed her hands on Emma's shoulders from behind keeping her steady on her feet.

“I…it really worked.”

Emma's voice had been trembling at first but now she was laughing as she looked between Yuel and the seeds.

“We didn't make any mistakes? Everything was how it needed to be for it to be accurate?”

“What kind of questions are those!? We did every step perfectly Emma, our control seeds are responding as they should and our two test seeds are doing just what I told you they would.”

“So then-”

Yuels loud laughter cut off Emma's question.

“Yes Emma I can say with almost eighty percent accuracy that you are with child. You'll still need to wait a month or two for the palace physicians to be able to confirm it physically but that's more just precautionary really.”

Emma was shocked, though not as shocked as she had been when Yuel first explained the experiment to her.

“These are grain seeds but under the right circumstances and environment they have a very special purpose, they can be used to tell if a woman is with child.”

Yuel was staring at Emma with a serious but soft look on her face.

“What, me?”

“Well it's certainly not me!”

“But…what makes you-”

“The aversion to scents. It's not an entirely common symptom but it happens and usually quite early on. These seeds will be able to tell us with an almost eighty percent accuracy.”

Emma sat there blinking at Yuel while still trying to process what she was hearing.

“I've never heard of there being a way to confirm it so early other than well…”

“Most Jadeans are aware of it but the seeds are incredibly finicky so we don't export them. If even one thing is off, the temperature, moisture in the air, exposure to light…any of them can affect the accuracy and render the results invalid so it can only be done by specially trained apothecaries or physicians. Only two of us in the palace have the training required but this is an excellent opportunity to teach you how as well.”

“What if I make a mistake?”

“Don't worry about that. Alongside the one you do we'll have a control as well as one I perform myself, also nothing will be said to anyone outside the royal family or head physician for a while. Although the test is incredibly accurate when done properly there have still been inaccurate or inconclusive results so nothing is announced publicly until the physician's final physical confirmation.”

Emma was pulled out of her reverie by an excited and quickly talking Yuel.

“This is such wonderful news! A new little prince or princess and so many new experiments and formulas to try out, I can hardly wait!”

Emma felt Yuels hands release her shoulders and watched her almost jump up and down with joy.

“New formulas for what?”

“Well first we have to figure out something for your sense of smell. Then if you have trouble keeping down food, something to help with that. A compound to make sure you're getting an adequate amount of nutrients, maybe something to help you sleep later on. You'll definitely need something to help with aching muscles and a new cream to help minimize the stretch marks. That's probably going to be the most difficult one, I mean you're so tiny compared to his Highness…”

Emma sat down in a chair smiling and listening to Yuels obvious enthusiasm then slowly ran a hand over her stomach. She almost couldn't believe the news and was overcome with joy at the thought of the, hopefully small, baby to come.

[gemmahale]

WIP Wednesday (5/8/2024)

Fandom: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare Reboot Games AU: Medieval fantasy

Working Title: Palace Hallways

Pairing: Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick, John 'Soap’ MacTavish, Simon 'Ghost’ Riley x OC Petal

Rating: E (this snippet is rated T)

Synopsis: It’s not awful being the newly crowned Queen’s lady-in-waiting. What is awful is the attention you’ve unintentionally garnered from Sir Garrick. What’s even worse, is the Royal Artificer MacTavish and the Royal Druid Riley seem to be paying you the same kind of attention. You’re a mess, and no one - not your Queen, not your King, nor the Knight Commander Price - will do anything about it.

CW's: TBD Snippet CW's: None

Remember that question I posed over the weekend? This is a snippet of one of those options. (BTW, y'all had some phenomenal ideas in the comments - thank you!)

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

You follow the flagstone path around the curve, certain you’ve escaped detection by the Artificer. That is, until you hear his familiar voice call out to you.

“Bonnie lass! Where are ye scarperin’ off to?”

Casting a glance behind you, you hurry toward the wrought iron gate that would lead to your successful escape. You glimpse the Artificer, the court colors of his livery blooming through the shrubs behind you, and hear the faint clanking of his tools hanging from his belt.

Your progress is suddenly halted, a rosebush’s thorns tangled in your skirt. In a desperate attempt to flee, you yank on the fabric, wincing at the tearing sound.

The skirt breaks free with a loud ripping noise, and you stumble away. Your shoe finds the edge of one of the flagstones, and everything slows around you as you fall.

You expect to meet the cold, hard surface of the flagstone with your cheek and you brace yourself.

Instead, you find yourself swept up against a warm body and soft fabric. 

“Steady there, Petal.”

[popjunkie42]

WIP Wednesday!

Guys I am writing SO MUCH all the time, but I am working on my Psyche-Eros ACOTAR retelling which is going to be a big one! I'm hoping I might be ready to start publishing in the next 4-6 weeks, but in the meantime I have been so impatient to share things! Working on long fics is hard.

I also have a few shorter things I'm tinkering with, along with the last chapter of Blossoming in Winter, but for the time being enjoy this little Psyche-Eros snippet of Feyre seeing Starfall for the first time.

Feyre woke from a dream where she was being smothered. Bolting up in bed, she sucked down mouthfuls of air, hands feeling her throat for phantom claws.

The nightmares had been an unwelcome addition to her new life in the Palace. Not that she would call it that in her mind. Captivity, maybe. Imprisonment.

All the Archeron sisters were prone to nightmares from time to time, the effects inescapable in their shared bed when one woke thrashing and screaming. But Feyre supposed that her full belly and deeper sleep in a soft mattress had the unwanted side effect of empowering her mind, giving it space now to wander down dark and cavernous hallways yet unexplored. This time there were no sisters to wake, to kick her back to reality or murmur half-woken platitudes. None of them had every had a mother who soothed them back to gentler dreams, smoothing hair and cooing soft comforts. Here at least Feyre wouldn’t have her covers stolen roughly by Nesta or feel the sharp toenails of Elain, although in some of her more terror-filled moments, she felt terribly alone.

Feyre willed her heart to slow, closing her eyes and feeling the sweat beading and cooling slowly on her skin.

Only a dream. The word came to her unbidden: safe. Here in this fine Palace she may be trapped against her will, but nothing inside it wished her harm. The curtains swayed gently, revealing the quiet night sky and the cold but familiar mountains beyond.

A strange playground for her mind to play in.

No red claws of crushing fingers here.

As the blood echoing in her ears slowed, she became aware of an odd sound, the tinkling of tiny bells. Light flashed beyond her closed eyelids and she was instantly back on alert, awareness pulling her out of her mind.

She kicked her legs free of the tangled sheets and padded to the balcony on her toes, unable to comprehend the sight before her.

The sky was falling.

Panic gripped her, nerves still raw from her dream. War? Magic? Some horrible natural disaster unknown in the human lands that would tear down pieces of the sky like this, hurling them into the horizon?

Run, scream, hide. Her body was yelling at her, but she froze in inaction at the threshold.

She couldn’t very well fight the stars, if they decided to fall on her head.

One breath. Two.

No smell of burning, no screams or the loud crash of the stone ceiling upon her head. The sky was streaked in whites and yellows and blues and greens shooting far ahead only to dive below the horizon in a glorious blaze, tails sparkling like diamonds. The twinkling noise of scattering star splatter that glowed across the mountain peaks and deep into the mist.

When minutes went by and the world didn’t end, Feyre let her jaw unclench her muscles relaxing slowly.

It was beautiful. The word didn’t do it justice.

Emotions were rolling over her with each star, a shiver of something her body could barely contain. She felt awe, and an empty unworthiness, as if she were spying on something secret and sacred, not meant for her mortal eyes. Then, anger. At her own cold and distant stars back home, that never danced and painted the sky like this. Maybe every week the fae lands exploded with some new terrestrial beauty, some grand blessing reserved for them alone.

When her feet turned cold on the stone balcony, she sought out her blanket, dragging it out to sit upon the ironwood chair, scared to drag her eyes away lest the falling of the stars fade away into another dream. 

She hadn’t known, that the world was so beautiful. That this sight before her was even possible. All her short life spent, even in her comfortable youth, in the dull mortal lands in mud and ordinariness, in suffering and hunger and the stench of death. 

Was it the absence of the fae and their magic, or the presence of the mortals and their doomed short lives, that filled their lands with such ordinariness? Such mud and desperation?

Or had she simply been too hungry, downtrodden and blind to see it? Whatever beauty and hope that might have lived in her world, hovering just out of reach of her fingers, knotted hard into a fist? 

As they flew overhead, Feyre made wishes spoken softly into the night. Messages to her sisters the stars could take with them, if they would travel that far. The mortals had no remaining gods and she didn’t know if the fae kept them as well, so she only wished for the stars to carry what was in her heart to some distant and receptive ear.

[adhdavinci]

Gonna go with Oedipus for WIP Wednesday this week please!

helloooo tysm! here is some furries having an argument. for 4 asks

⚠️ discussion of incest & inbreeding

“Man, I'm confused.” “What on earth could you possibly be confused about this time?” The Precursors’ voices echo down the otherwise empty hallway of the palace. Daxter's ears perk, though with their loud-ass speaking voices and his advanced hearing, it would be impossible not to eavesdrop. “The great hero and his pregnancy, man. Ain't it weird?” “Ugh. Do I have to explain sex to you again, dummy?” “No! Just - why's he sayin’ it's that new king's? Ain't it from the old one?” Daxter puts on a burst of speed, possibly the fastest he's ever gone, and rounds the corner so fast he nearly slides into the wall. “Shut the fuck up,” he hisses, “someone will hear you!” All three ottsels turn. “Oh hey, fellow furry dude,” the skinny one says, “what's up?” Daxter spots a side room and grabs the leader, shoving him through the doorway. “Get over here. All of you. Now.” “Very well, very well, no need for aggression,” the big guy huffs. “What's got your wumpbees in a buzz?” “You three,” Daxter growls, “cannot fuck this up fer Jak. He's tryin’ so hard to keep it together, an’ the last thing he needs is some blabbermouth know-it-all creeps to spill his secret!” The dummy's little ears shoot up. “Ohhh, of course, a secret,” he nods, “that's why he lied!”

[monvante]

tag game: post 3 snippets from published work, and 3 from your wips.

i was tagged by the lovely @theharrowing! since i haven't published any of my works yet, i'm going to share snippets from three of my wips. feel free to ask me about them. i'm going to tag: @axialitae @ugh-yoongi @caelesjjk @wintaerbaer @archivedkookie @ressjeon and anyone else who would like to participate.

lust academia╱ knj x f!reader

Namjoon’s standing by the door, scrolling through his phone, brows furrowed and completely focused on the task at hand.

“I ordered pizza. You can stay for dinner,” he says, so casually you’d barely notice his invitation if it wasn’t for the fact you’re just so hungry. “If you want.”

“Thanks, but.. I was gonna cook myself some dinner-”

He raises his eyebrows, deadpanning at you.

“Didn’t you say your tap water was… I believe the word you used was.. shit?”

He never curses - which earns a heartfelt laugh from you when you hear him say it, with his chest so full.

“Yeah,” your nose wrinkles. “I just don’t wanna take up more of your time, so..” 

You shrug, hands in pockets, feeling a little too small. You don’t like the feeling - like maybe he’s taken mercy upon you and now all you can do is desperately return the favor. 

“Don’t sweat it. You can pay me back some other time.” 

He walks out of the room, just as quickly as he entered. 

You’re kind of at a loss for words. You didn’t take Namjoon for a bad guy, that’s not the thing, but- you also didn’t take him as someone cool and kind. Looking at it now, it makes sense why he intimidates you sometimes: he’s so at peace with himself, in a way you couldn’t ever be.

petite mort ╱ kth x f!reader.

For the most part, Taehyung stayed away from the court and its state of affairs. He didn’t like meddling in human politics and presumed His Majesty would call upon him if needed — no services were off limits.

Except for one small thing, of course. He harmed no children and no women either. Most certainly no one above eighty years old as well — the latter being a preference of his own, given elderly people tasted bitter and rancid, being of no use for a picky vampire such as his own.

It came as a rare, but pleasant surprise when your father had requested his presence at the palace. You had heard of something such as vampires roaming around, though had never truly met one. More often than not, they remained both a myth and a fascination among low income villages outside the kingdom. A few knights had whispered of beings lurking in the shadows, but you deemed yourself far too smart to believe these rumors.

Of course, when Kim Taehyung entered the doors of your sacred home, you were bewildered to learn he was real, and even more bewildered to know your family had kept his existence a secret all along. There was no sign of a single wrinkle in his face, but he possessed a certain wisdom only an ancient person would. 

He would stay for a few weeks in one of the private chambers reserved for the King’s most special guests — which didn’t go beyond some of his favorite cousins and friends. So when the days passed and you’d see the shadows of Taehyung to and fro the palace’s parlors and hallways, you casually glanced his way in curiosity. 

The vampire was forbidden territory, you were no fool. Not even your father had to mention it beforehand. It was simply the way he exchanged a few glances with you that gave it away. He seemed curious too, but unlike you, it was a dark kind of curiosity which could lead to many regrettable moments.

The temptation would last for weeks, each time just a little bit stronger than the previous day. 

fortress of the heart ╱ ksj x f!reader.

You never wanted this. Not a throne, not a crown, not an ounce of your father’s power.

But as the single heir to a mad man, you were crowned Queen, with little to no say in a ruthless game of politics and heirs the second after your father welcomed death with open arms. 

They said he was a mad King. One who trotted into battle twelve years ago and died on the battlefield  ─  in a war which he had crafted with his silver tongue, a cursed touch and an unstoppable temper. Crumbling alongside his men wasn’t as redeeming a quality as he made it out to be, and so you were left with a kingdom in ruins ─ and a rising war ─ when the crown fell upon your head at the age of eighteen.

There was no glory, no death, no poetry that could redeem the acts of mercilessness of your father.

Each year seemed more threatening than the previous one, as rebellions struck the capital and the conditions worsened for your people. There hadn’t been many options left, you feared. One of your ladies in waiting had cowardly suggested you give your throne to your cousin Tyon, Duke of Illyria, but you refused to stand in the shadows of another man yet again.

A noble turned king would grant nothing, aside from all the women eventually succumbing at his feet ─ which you suspected was the least awful of his intentions. Still, rumors around the palace had always created a vile kind of competition between you and the rest of your cousins, who resented you for inheriting something you never aspired to in the first place.

But power was a vicious thing, wasn’t it?

[kidsomeday]

Medieval Magic Vashwood Thing for Throwback Thursday to WIP Wednesday, please! ;)

This is a far, far ,far throwback, but thank you for your patience! And for this ask. Because this has been sitting in my inbox so long you get an extra long snippet.

-

Ribs aching and muttering promises of inconsequential vengeance under his breath Wolfwood followed Vash back toward the castle. It was full dark with only a partial moon, but the oil lights on the palace grounds had been lit. Not that would have mattered much, but it did mean not having to answer any potential questions about why his low light vision was superior to anything a human should have.  Thankfully Vash kept his eyes forward until he got to a small side door and held it open for Wolfwood to enter. It wasn’t one that Wolfwood knew of, but it had a light outside it and opened with an ease that spoke to frequent use.

“This is one of the primary entrances for the laundry staff,” Vash explained, even though Wolfwood never actually asked. It was unnerving, but he chalked it up to his tendency to chatter without saying anything.

“You use a lot of servant hallways for someone of royal blood,” Wolfwood commented. Vash shrugged.

“It’s faster and easier to move around this way,” he said. “Less people trying to bother me with some gossip or trying to win favor. Besides,” he turned and gave Wolfwood a conspiratorial grin, “it really makes Nai mad.”