#QR Quickwrites

[quaxorascal]

nor whole and unbroken

Back during the Gretsin arc Taber rolled a nat 1 to get out of the blast zone of a factory we'd rigged to explode, and she lost an eye as a result! Calling this fic a spiritual successor to this one. Featuring canon dialogue that I've had written down for two years now because I feel as insane about these two in 2023 as I had in 2021

175 words, exactly 1,000 characters (cw: eye gore (alluded to))

Even flying high above the explosion site, Felix already knows something's wrong. Nymerinae in her eagle form flies them closer to the ground. Headcount: Belasco, Rachel, Ophelia, Aracelli, Bonnie…

Then he sees her, and his heart explodes, too.

"Taber!" he screams. He runs before his feet touch the ground, and crouches next to where she's lying prone. "I'm here. I'm right here." In clear agony, she can't whimper quietly. He takes her hand in both of his. "It'll be okay, vehera."

She turns her head to him. A huge piece of shrapnel makes blood pour down her face. "I'm s-sorry."

…What the fuck?

"Y-You shouldn't… have to see me like this…" She sobs.

"No. Don't apologize." He chokes, then brings her hand close to his chest and squeezes. "Don't you dare apologize. I swear to the gods, Taber, don't apologize to me ever again." Neither can stop crying now.

Nymerinae, an elf again, kneels down and puts Taber's head in her lap. Grateful, he lets her work. His heart can mend once Taber is okay.

[quaxorascal]

At long last, I can deliver the fic that spawned from my DM and I getting on the topic of the AU “what if all the Lamburn kids had been tieflings instead of just Taber?”

cw: pregnancy, mild misgendering/deadnaming of a trans character (Taber is the second baby mentioned and was too young to name herself)

Blood was Our Inheritance, 2.2k words

Astrid can’t summon any joy when Julianna announces that she’s pregnant again, a year later. All she feels is apprehension.

At one point the announcement would have been exciting. The first time, when Astrid and Julianna had been expecting almost simultaneously, it was cause for celebration; the Lamburn line would have heirs soon, the family would be growing and deepening its roots. All of Hightower would look forward to the new children. It wouldn’t hurt at all, Astrid also felt, that both of the children would have a friend their age within the family. There had been so much hope.

The first baby to arrive was Julianna’s. The girl’s appearance had made her mother scream; her skin was a greyish-red that would have made her seem dead or dying, were it not for her perfectly healthy lungs. Her coloration did not improve with time, and when the girl opened her eyes, all that could be seen was white.

Julianna had been frightened by this development, yes, but Astrid had been even more so. For the first time in years, Astrid had remembered stories that had been told about the family since she was a little girl. Drivel, scandalous rumours, and little more—at least, that’s what she was told about these claims relating her family to a dark history that entangled them with the hells… She held her belly and prayed to each of the Triad of Pelor, Erathis, and Avandra, in the hopes that her baby would not break her heart like the baby girl had broken Julianna’s.

Three months later she delivered her heir, and the baby’s skin was a brilliant red that wasn’t just flush. Another tiefling.

The gods either hadn’t heard her, or had thought that this was a very funny joke.

A week later, the estate was closed to visitors indefinitely. The story the staff told their friends was that neither heir had survived more than a few days; the family was in mourning, they told the city, and it wasn’t really a lie. Astrid had felt as though she was grasping at sand running through her fingers, as the rumours surrounding her family’s history had become sobering fact. They really were cursed by a fiend from the hells: that’s why these children had been marked by devil-like features. It would take a miracle to recover their dignity if anyone were to find out.

Astrid and Julianna had spoken at length about what to do, and her sister-in-law wasn’t about to give up Judoc—gods, Astrid had scoffed internally, Julie had even named her—despite the scandal that the girl could cause. Gwilherm seemed to agree with his wife, but Astrid could tell her brother was just as scared for the family as she felt. Maybe he could see it in her, too, but he was tactful, always had been, and said nothing about it; he only said that they could keep Judoc within the estate, and they could do the same for Astrid’s heir, too. “At least the children shall get along” were his words.

In the end, it was the baby himself who wore her down. Despite those empty eyes of his, Astrid could see so much of his father in his tiny face. Even the hair, short as it was in one so young, could have been Ciro’s brown were it not tinted red. Ciro hadn’t spoken twenty words to her since Judoc’s arrival—she didn’t know what she would have said even if he would speak to her, truth be told—so seeing his face in their baby was the nearest thing to comfort she’d get through this miserable situation.

Dameron would stay. She just hoped it had been the right decision.

And now, Julianna was pregnant again.

Astrid stays her tongue just short of calling her sister-in-law a fool, but Julianna insists that lightning couldn’t strike the same place thrice. It could have just been the timing of the first births, she muses, as close together as they were. A third child after a year of waiting would surely be safe from the curse that had befallen the eldest two.

Astrid appreciates the optimism, even if she doesn’t say so out loud. Maybe she could be more hopeful herself if she had the same support that Gwilherm gave his wife; she’s still barely heard from Ciro. The babies are still too young to do much else than accidentally hit one another and cry when one tugs on the other’s tail, but they’re growing. What the hell could he have been doing in the last year? Astrid wishes she knew.

She also wishes she knew whether or not Julianna was naive to feel so optimistic. She’s correct about lightning, but what do any of them know about infernal curses? Two demon children, one right after the other, doesn’t seem like a coincidence. Not when large numbers factor into the stories she’d grown up hearing about Antilles Lamburn: the man who had tricked a fiend into granting him wealth and status by making the fiend believe it would get to claim his descendants’ souls. She’d once dismissed such rumours completely, and not in the least because her mother had claimed the number of descendants the fiend was meant to damn was one hundred and her aunt had sworn it to be five times that. But now, she finds herself wondering which of those numbers had been closer to the truth. Would it matter either way for Julianna’s next child?

Her sister-in-law decides on a name before the child is even born: Allegra for a girl, Felix for a boy. She has so much hope for this child, so much hope that their arrival will be easier than their sister’s, that she wants to make it true. Astrid’s belief in hope is tenuous at best, these days, but she would be grateful if the gods would humour Julianna, if no one else.

⁂

They’ve only made themselves fools. Felix is born with berry-red skin and the same pale eyes as his sister and cousin.

They couldn’t claim he was stillborn: that’s what Hightower believed had become of Astrid’s child, and they believed that Julianna’s first hadn’t survived her first three days. People would start to lose faith in the legitimacy of the Lamburns if they could not produce heirs, and using the same excuse too many times would yield the same result. To reveal plainly that the family was indeed cursed as the rumours had long claimed, however, would be to invite an angry mob to the door of the estate.

Damnit. Damnit. Damn them all for daring to hope they could get out of this without a scandal. Damn them for trying to outrun a curse.

This wasn’t a time where she had the luxury of being able to panic, however. She’d had that time, and she’d only used it to simply hope that this problem would go away on its own. Curse or no curse, the burden on the Lamburn name—the future of Hightower, of the family—rests on her shoulders and hers alone, and it’s up to her to decide what was best for everyone. She has no good options. She needs to think.

She needs to protect these children from the fiend that wants to claim them. By whatever means necessary.

⁂

“Have you been down here this entire time?”

‘Here’ is some kind of laboratory, a room that’s been converted from one of the house’s many hidden passages. Stacks of books and papers are illuminated only by candlelight, but their shadows reach up the walls.

“Well… that depends on how long you mean by—”

“No. Do not give me that, Ciro. No clever wordplay, no pedantry, just talk to me. You’ve been here for the last year and a half, and you didn’t even bother to tell me what you’re doing?”

“…You want the full truth, then?”

It takes a lot of restraint not to slap him.

“Yes, clearly.”

“Fine. I’ve been researching the origins of tieflings in order to find out what’s going on with these children, so we can try to cure them.”

Some of the books bear religious symbols on their covers: Pelor’s sunburst, Erathis’ gears, the green winds of Avandra, all clearly tomes borrowed from the Sun Circle’s libraries.

“You are very lucky none of the churches thought this was suspicious. This alone could have affected our reputation with the churches, and for what? There is no curing a curse.”

“Well—no. That may have been a poor word choice—”

“And why didn’t you think to tell me this is what you were doing? I could have told you that this was a hopeless task from the start.”

“No. There has to be an answer somewhere, I just haven’t found it yet.”

“Ciro.” She grabs her husband’s shoulders, forces him to look up at her. “We are well past the point of trying to ‘cure’ this. Or have you spent so much time down here, leaving me and everyone else to their own devices, that you hadn’t noticed we now have a third child in the estate?”

“I know—”

“Judoc, Dameron, and now Felix. That’s three tieflings. The Lamburn curse is a real and present issue. You may not have realized that, but I have.”

“Astrid.”

She watches his candlelit face and holds her tongue. She wonders if he’s going to follow that up with anything, but eventually:

“Just because I haven’t found the answer yet doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. I thought I would have made more progress by now, but—well, this is complicated subject matter. Besides… what choice do we have? If we can’t fix three tiefling children, we can’t recover from the scandal.”

“…You know, Ciro? That’s the first thing you’ve said that I agree with.”

Silence hangs in the air between them. She lowers her arms.

“…What?”

“I agree, we can never recover from the scandal. They public will tear us apart if we say anything at this point. But even without your research, we know that there is a fiend after these children.” She sighs, willing her hands to stay still at her sides. “…So, we need to protect them. And to me, it looks as if the first way we can protect them is by removing the public from the equation.”

⁂

When the Governor General sends a party to pay visit to the Lamburn estate two years later, not a soul answers the door: the same response that they’d received just last week. This time, however, the party isn’t solely composed of diplomats, and the dragoons that have accompanied them confront the locked door head-on until it opens. Surely, Lady Astrid would understand that the violence came from a place of concern for her and her family’s well-being.

It had been more than two years since the Lamburn estate had been open to visitors. Once the doors had closed, Lady Astrid had begun reorganizing her estate, seemingly wanting to invest in different business partners closer to Hightower. She had been making fewer and fewer public appearances, increasingly allowing her capital to be generated by the family’s more trusted partners. The last time anyone could remember seeing her in person was roughly three months ago. Rumours had been circulating that she may have fallen ill, or worse.

The Governor General’s party searches the estate per their orders, looking for anyone still alive inside. Not only do they not even find a single servant or maid, however, but they also don’t find any bodies. No one has died in this house, but it’s clear no one still lives here, either. The rooms are left in a very tidy state: there are no books or shelves, no clothes or dressers, no tapestries or paintings on the walls, not even a single gold coin left in the coffer.

Beneath the music room, they find a hidden passage—this wasn’t unusual, given the age of the house, but the footsoldier who notices it is hopeful that there may be some sign of life inside. She gets mixed results, as there aren’t any living people in the room at the bottom of the stairs, but there are a handful of papers scattered about. There are scribbled notes related to the political history of Corellia, hidden under maps of Veniano port cities, thrown together with half-finished descriptions of clockwork devices from Shikonai… Each note that she discovers is more disjointed than the last.

At the end of an hour, the party regroups in the foyer. All that is clear is the fact that the Lamburns are no longer here in any way, shape, or form, and they were able to slip away without the Governor General having any idea of their intention to do so. But where could they have gone? The closest thing to a lead are all the notes left behind, but why would the entire family follow such eccentric ramblings? In the end, they’re no closer to an answer. They will have to locate former members of the Lamburns’ staff for answers.

This will be an odd report to bring back: Hightower’s oldest noble house, gone without a trace.

[quaxorascal]

wip wednesday

Nobody tagged me but I am Really Proud of this part of my current wip, so I’m starting it myself! Tagging @merry-harlowe @enjoloras @narrativefoiltrope @subcorax @actuallyaltaria and anybody else who wants to participate!

The head rolls across the grass after landing, revealing the maniacal glee contorting the Broker’s features in his final moment. Those wide-open eyes can’t see anything, that wide-open mouth can’t make any sound, she knows they can’t; and yet she can feel his gaze turning to Belasco first, then burning into her own soul in turn, before it finally moves on, and the head comes to a stop with one cheek against the ground.

[quaxorascal]

So here’s the completed fic that I teased a couple of weeks ago of Taber killing the big bad of her backstory, bc this is probably as edited as I can possibly make it and I’m really happy w it

“How Do You Want to Do This?”, ~600 words

Taber’s head snaps up at the sound of snapping dogs a moment before Felix shouts “Backup’s coming!” Sabina is the one who acts first though: she’s off like the shots Felix fires from his pistol, ready to lend her knives to help fight off the Martarelli war hounds and guards he had warned them about.

Good. He’ll be safe.

That just leaves the Broker.

Aracelli had brought the Broker to his knees, and together Taber and Belasco were doing everything they could to keep him on the ground. In the time it had taken for Taber to look in Felix’s direction, Belasco had taken his opportunity to drive a dagger deep into the man’s back; poetic justice for a backstabber himself, as far as Taber is concerned.

He doesn’t cry out in pain, or even acknowledge that Belasco did anything to him at all. The sound he makes, instead, is low laughter. She looks him in the face and finds he’s already looking up at her, the fire of madness glowing behind his eyes.

“You think this changes anything?” he taunts. “You think this will stop anything? I’ve created a hunger in this world, a hunger that will consume it. If I burn” —he looks her directly in the eye— “the world will burn with me!”

“Belasco!” she cries as she turns her head to break eye contact with the Broker. Her companion doesn’t hesitate, producing another dagger and stabbing it into the base of the Broker’s neck. The blow makes the man’s body go limp and sag forward, as if bowing to Taber.

Against all odds, the Broker laughs once again, cackling like everything is still going in his favour. “And I promise, you will kneel one last time before you—“

She sucks in a breath through her nose, her vision tunneling on the Broker as she raises her axe—it blazes twofold with holy white light, from Ilmater’s blessing and from her own—high above her head. With a deep bellow, she swings the weapon back down—

The Broker’s face is hidden from her view, neck completely exposed, and yet still he talks, still he laughs—

This ends now! —

—and she cuts with the grim precision of an executioner’s blade first through the air, then through flesh. There is a dull thump against the ground as her axe embeds itself in the manicured lawn; then, a second thump right after the first, when the severed head hits the ground; finally, a third, with the impact of his body.

The head rolls across the grass after landing, revealing the maniacal glee contorting the Broker’s features in his final moment. Those wide-open eyes can’t see anything, that wide-open mouth can’t make any sound, she knows they can’t; and yet she can feel his gaze turning to Belasco first, then burning into her own soul in turn, before it finally moves on, and the head comes to a stop with one cheek against the ground. The leader of an empire of pain and suffering is dead.

After everything the Broker had done, every person he manipulated, every life he ruined for his own gain, he is finally no more than a dead body in two pieces.

She pants as if she’d just exerted herself a great deal, though her chest feels tight with the fear the Broker’s last promise instilled in her. He’s still laughing triumphantly, she swears, long after his head stops rolling.

[quaxorascal]

Tomorrow Taber gets to have Another big and important talk with Judoc and I am realizing I’m not emotionally ready for that, so here’s about 260 words of Thoughts I had a couple of months ago based on another conversation

“If the choice is between my freedom and my life,” Judoc continues, with only a small waver in her voice: “...I need you to make sure he can’t take me back.”

”Kill me!” Felix begs, his voice ragged from disuse. “You need to kill me, so I don’t- kill you!” He doesn’t let go of her shirt collar, his knuckles on her neck.

Judoc’s hands are held tightly in her lap, her knuckles white. She means it. Taber eyes the angry scarring on Judoc’s neck, and she can’t imagine a way to blame Judoc for being so afraid of being back in the Broker’s clutches.

As long as Judoc stays in the safehouse, it’s more likely that she’ll be safe than not. If she stays within the zone that Nymerinae warded from scrying, all the better. Still, if something did happen, Judoc was asking her to be ready to kill her herself.

“No!”

That wild, desperate look in his eyes didn’t settle, but his fingers loosened. She went on:

“N-No, I can’t kill you! I won’t! I’m going to- W-We’ll get you out of here!”

It had been so easy to say no then, even when she was shaking with fear — fear for him. Then again... it was hard to be afraid of Judoc now, as quiet as she managed to be here.

That didn’t make it easier than it’s ever been to say no this time.

“...I will do all that I can to keep him from you,” she promises. She means it.

[quaxorascal]

wip ask game

I was tagged by @risualto last week, and can finally sit down and take a crack at this! Thank you Risu!

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Send me an ask with the title that most intrigues you and I’ll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it. And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

I didn’t think I had that many WIPs but it turns out I have more kicking around than I thought! I’ll write the title/stopgap title and then also include the characters involved

The Lamburn Curse (Lamburn family ensemble; AU)

Words are All We Have (Taber & Felix)

The morning after getting yelled at (Shuvermhel x Nalinyon)

Just Enough to Keep Conversation Flowing (Fyfa x Zevran)

Well, This is New (Fyfa x Zevran; nsf/w)

Bring Your Best (Fyfa x Zevran)

Darling (Capella x Lea; poetry)

Something about the intimacy of touching someone’s hair (Capella x Lea)

Something about nature and being trans and being Jewish (general; poetry)

As far as tags, idk who all else has already done this but let’s go ahead and tag @subcorax @grapecaseschoices @enjoloras​​ @patchodraws​​ @vhenadahls and anybody else who’d like to give this a go! Tag me and I’ll be sure to send you an ask <3

[quaxorascal]

Idina Surana, 17!

“A description of your OC’s family by a future historian.” (from here)

“The history of the Idina Surana Memorial School, established in the Denerim Alienage around 9:77 Dragon, is a rather simple one. The school itself is named for one of the eight Heroes of Ferelden who defeated the Fifth Blight in 9:31, and it was established by her wife, Theresa Amell – another Hero – and one of her fathers, Evan. The city of Denerim is where Averill, Surana’s son with Theresa, lived at the time, along with his wife Aleiyah and their six children.

“Theresa had been Commander of the Grey Wardens of Ferelden, and Evan had been hahren of the Highmount Alienage before he travelled to Denerim following the death of his husband Isador. There is some debate as to how the pair ended up in Denerim to establish this school. Some believe Averill may have been involved in bringing both Theresa and Evan to Denerim, as the two retired within a year of each other and both lived with his family while in Denerim; others believe the two would have sought security with their relatives in their old age. 

“Whatever the reason, soon after they both settled in Denerim, Theresa bought a building in the Alienage and sought Evan’s help to restore it. One of Averill’s older children claimed to be present when Evan called Theresa ‘absolutely nutty’ before agreeing to aid her with her project.

“Establishing the school was both a labour of love and, some believe, a love letter to the woman whose name it carries. After roughly a year and a half of petitions, fundraisers, planning, and getting the community involved, the building became the school as it is known today. Both were involved in helping the school get on its feet, Theresa more than Evan due to his remarkable age, and Theresa ensured that graduated students would be able to run the school when her own age caught up to her.

“Evan passed away only a year after the school’s establishment, and Theresa followed just shy of a decade later. Averill and his family have kept an eye on the school since.”

[quaxorascal]

She had always loved Romance and happy endings And so she gave, And gave, and gave Romance and happy endings And smiles and love To others, in abundance Until, as she aged And as she gave She faded into obscurity Those who knew her: To hundreds of children, She was a mother; To her best friend, She was a partner; To Pa, to Father, She was a daughter. To the country’s Hero, She was a sister;  And a flame keeper. In her final years She was all alone: Sister, Father, Pa, Wife, And hundreds of children Grew up and left. She smiled despite pain: “Soon,” she would say, “I’ll see my sister;” But she never knew Her sister wasn’t there At the Maker’s side. Her sister was nowhere Her sister was everywhere And she never knew.

Romance and happy endings Had passed her by; She was all alone.

[quaxorascal]

Not sure how many you wanted but, 1, 8 and 15 for Yvette Shepard!

No worries about the numbers!! Also Wow this is late lmao (from here)

1. An overheard conversation about your OC

“Well, what about Shepard? She grew up in the colonies; she knows exactly how tough life can be out there.”

“Everyone knows the Shepard story, Anderson. The only one to make it out of Mindoir free and alive. She was all the Citadel talked about for two years.”

“The presses kept following her in the years after that. Especially after she made N7.”

“Not to mention Torfan. She got most of her unit killed out there. Death seems to follow her, doesn’t it?”

“Shepard gets the job done. No matter the cost.”

“Is that the kind of person we want protecting the galaxy?”

“She’s the only kind of person who can protect the galaxy.”

8. Your OC’s doctor/ healer talking about their injuries

Medical Report: Comm. Y. Shepard

Dr. K. Chakwas

Head: moderate concussion; mild abrasions on cheeks

Right shoulder: dislocated

Left hand: mild stenosing tenosynovitis

Right hand: moderate stenosing tenosynovitis

Ankles: both sprained

Heavy bruising in many locations on torso, including muscle bruising in upper left back

Therapy and Care:

Closed reduction has been used to reset Shepard’s shoulder, and the arm is currently in a sling that she is not to remove until further notice. Her sprained ankles have been put in splints, as have the index and pointer fingers on her left hand and the pointer finger on her right. As she cannot use a crutch with her right arm, Shepard is strongly encouraged to stay in bed as much as possible for the next two weeks; she requires rest, both physical and mental, in order for her concussion and bruises to heal.

Shepard has been given anti-inflammatory medications for her hands and ankles, as well as pain medications to take should her ankles start hurting more, and sleeping medications should they be required. Myself or Dr. Solus is to be informed should either pain or sleep medication be taken.

Mr. Krios, though he also has his right arm in a sling, will be allowed to help Shepard perform exercises to aid her fingers. He is also to keep an eye on her and make sure she rests as much as possible.

Additional Notes:

Well done, Shepard, and thank you for the rescue. Now, please make my job easier and stay in bed.

(This doesn’t include #15 but I feel this has been in my drafts long enough to post it anyway whoops, but thank you!!)

[quaxorascal]

Dune’s player sent me this Kickass poem he wrote that’s meant to be a folk song in Dune’s tribe, and I wanna share it with y’all bc it’s pretty damn great

Once we wandered through the land, Adrift on endless seas of sand Until one day, on Helm’s command, We settled down to stay.

“To guard this spire is your task,” Was issued from behind his mask, And in his goodwill e’er we bask, For here we dwell today.

No more shall our children roam Beneath the sun in its blue dome. For at long last, we’ve found our home, And nevermore shall stray.

And yet the legends cite a son, A nameless child whom all shall shun. But in the end, this kin of none Will have the final say.

O’er dune and dale will roam the lad, The wayfarer, the last nomad With resolution, ironclad, To not be led astray.

That which was lost will be the prize For toiling long ‘neath boundless skies. He will return, a lifetime wise, For having run away.

[quaxorascal]

The second writing thing is a drabble I wrote up a couple of days ago, sort of as a companion to this but not quite

Groggy, 100 words

The pain comes back to him, then the thirst. But he doesn’t feel the cage floor beneath him.

His vision is dark, but brighter now than he’s gotten used to, and something soft -- wolf fur? -- tickles his nose. He realizes that he’s being carried: each step his saviour takes shakes them a little.

His saviour. His vehera. Taber.

They don’t touch in their family, yet he almost feels comfortable. He rolls his head toward her heartbeat. He’s so thirsty... He groans as she walks, warning.

“Belasco,” he hears her murmur. Something pokes his leg: sleep draught. The rest fades away.

[quaxorascal]

#naromi5ever (they really need a new ship name), 50's setting.

(Currently their tag is Nao-Mi on my blog if that helps!)

After ten minutes, Naomi became convinced that the rain was not going to stop anytime soon; she stepped out from the protection of the overhang, stopping a few feet away and lifting her face to the heavens.

“Naomi! What are you doing?” Hye-Mi called from under the overhang, wrapped in Naomi’s leather jacket.

Naomi turned back to her girlfriend with a grin. She took a few steps to shrink the distance between, then held out her right hand. “Come dance with me. I promise it’ll be fun!”

[quaxorascal]

You are dead but maybe you get this. things are pretty good tiny you is doing well she yells a lot but she likes flowers i saw her catch a rabbit the other day didnt hurt it just kinda held it for a while showed it off to everybody. scared the hell outta drogo cause she let the damn thing in the house. i dont know how she caught it but its probably your fault somehow- with love: aria B)

Spring was coming early this year: the ground was already wet with snowmelt, and Wildgard’s citizens could leave their homes without their blankets or other extra coverings. It was still too early in the year to set up shop, but Aria was sitting under the caravan’s tent anyway, watching her daughter wander through the wet grass. She gave a start when Idina yelped, and she got up to follow the little one as she toddled behind the caravan. 

Her daughter had found a rabbit there a few days ago. She was quietly eager to see if the thing had come back

As she came around the corner, Idina came into view once again. She was on her knees on the ground, though Aria couldn’t see what she was looking at. When she called her name, the girl turned her freckly face back to her mother and rose to her feet again. It was then that the little blonde noticed that the knees of her skirt were now wet, and she reached her arms up toward her mother, chubby features softened into a pout.

Aria scooped the girl up into her arms, bouncing in place once to place Idina securely on her hip. She looked to where the little one had been crouched earlier, now that she could see what had been there. It wasn’t a rabbit, but it was still worth noticing. In the middle of March, a cluster of plants were green and blooming: a few clover flowers, surrounded by large green basil leaves.

I did promise I would watch over your daughter. It is a promise that I will not forget.

[quaxorascal]

spaghetti13 said: 6, 19 with whichever pairing

From this ask meme

Starshine, ~500 words

“It’s beautiful out here,” Brian commented, likely off-handedly.

Lucian couldn’t help but smile. He could feel the cool night air blow gently against his face, the way his weight settled on the grass beneath them, and the warmth on his arm where their shoulders touched. But he could hardly tell whether his eyes were open or shut, there was so little light. “You know I can’t see it,” he said.

Brian inhaled, his breath hissing past his teeth. “Sorry,” he said. Lucian heard a shuffling sound beside his ear; had Brian turned his head to look at him?

“It’s okay,” he assured. “I’ll take your word for it.”

There was a pause where they simply let the breeze whisper around them. Lucian felt sure that Brian had turned his head back to the sky now. The blond pondered his words before saying: “Tell me what you see.”

“Do you want me to describe you, or the sky?” The closeness of his voice proved Lucian wrong, and told him that Brian had indeed been looking at him for some time.

Lucian chuckled and shifted his weight to press his shoulder teasingly into the other boy’s. “The sky, ideally.”

Brian laughed along – what a musical laugh he has, Lucian thought – before he sighed. The shuffling sound like the one from earlier, as well as the direction from which his voice came, told Lucian that he was now looking up at the sky while he spoke:

“I can’t believe how many stars there are out here, away from the city. It looks like… like someone spilled a bucket of sand over a dark blue tablecloth. Except the grains of sand are the stars, and the tablecloth doesn’t look so dark with all of these stars so close together... They look so close to Earth, but so far away…”

Lucian felt a pair of fingers tap his wrist. “May I use your hand?” Brian asked, his head turned to him.

“Sure,” Lucian agreed. Brian took his hand by the wrist and lifted it up until it must’ve been right above Brian’s head; Lucian’s fingers curled as though he were pointing at something.

“Right where you’re pointing,” Brian went on, “is the moon. It’s full tonight, and it’s so clear out that it looks like there’s a halo around it. And over here” – he moved their hands to a spot to the left and down from where the moon was – “is this cloud of colour among the stars. There’s turquoise… purple… light blue…” As he listed each colour, he moved Lucian’s hand, following a curve that Lucian could only imagine was the shape of this cloud. “All that’s mixed with white. And there are these dark patches within the cloud, almost along the centre of it. It’s really something else.”

“It sounds amazing,” Lucian breathed, unaware until that moment of just how broadly he was smiling.

Brian brought their hands back to the grass, then slipped his hand further down Lucian’s arm until their hands fit into each other. “Yeah, it is.”

[quaxorascal]

SnowPaint and High School/College AU?

The two girls sat on the school roof, shoulders touching, a coffee in both of their dominant hands. Shielding her eyes with her free hand, the headscarf-clad have of the pair turned to her friend and asked “Do you think they’ll know we’re skipping?”

“They’ll know we’re skipping,” her best friend assured, “they’ll just have a hell of a time finding us to reprimand us for it.”

[quaxorascal]

DirkRoxy and Pirate!AU

“At this point,” he snickered, a shady expression on his face to sway the opinion of anyone looking on, “I would be extremely surprised if anyone on your ship thought I was ‘just a cabin boy’ to you.”

The captain adjusted her coat and stood, arms crossed, looking the young man in rags directly in the eye; a grin was twitching at the corners of her lips. “You’re still cabin boy,” she pointed out: “the boy waiting in my cabin!”