#wip: an ode to the destined

[parttimeghost]

incorrect quotes tag

was sorting through my drafts when i found this tag game from july...oops. anyways, thank you to the wonderful @friendlyneighborhood-writer for the tag <3

Rules: use this quote generator & list as many quotes as you like using characters from your WIPs, then tag as many people as quotes you listed.

wip: an ode to the destined

Lancelot: What did you guys get in your yearbook? Morgan: 'Prettiest Smile' Arthur: 'Nicest Personality' Merlin: 'Most likely to start a bar fight' Gwen: 'Least likely to start a bar fight, but most likely to win one'

Mordred, talking about the prophecies: I feel awful about killing you. Arthur: Mordred: Even though technically you never even died, so I don’t know what you’re bitching about.

Gwen: Sometimes I get so caught up on being gay that I forget I’m actually bi.

Gwen: Treat spiders the way you want to be treated. Morgan: Killed without hesitation.

Morgan: Bet you can’t eat 15 crayons! Merlin: Bet you I can! Gwen: *sips coffee, checks to make sure 911 is still on speed dial, and goes back to reading the paper*

no pressure tags: @eccaiia, @bookish-galaxy, @happystarfishnightmare, @blind-the-winds, @memento-morri-writes, and anyone else that feels like joining in!

[danpuff-ao3]

Slash Podfic Recs

The world needs more podfics! And lucky for you, if you were on the hunt for some, I've found a few you might enjoy!

Narration is an artform all its own (and audio editing?? I don't even wanna think about that, not gonna lie.) Curl up in bed and close your eyes and let someone tell you a story. Or hit that "play" button and have someone keep you company, and entertained, while performing house chores! Listen to a story while on your morning commute.

A variety of ships for you, a variety of lengths. All excellent stories! All I ask is that you please leave some love for these creators if you stop by; podfics get so little traction compared to the written word. And even if all you can manage is a kudo, I'm sure it would be so very appreciated!

See also: podfics of my fics, Snarry podfics, and Femslash podfics.

Danse Macabre

written by doshu, narrated by Aspen_Gray. Harry/Tom. Rated M. 2 hours, 45 minutes. Angst. Non-linear narrative. Sad ending.

A last dance. A cold comfort against the inevitability of death.

Harry’s danse macabre began with Tom Riddle in the Chamber of Secrets. It only took him six years to notice.

Theft of Assets, Destruction of Property

written by Helenish, narrated by EosRose. Draco/Neville. Rated E. 3 hours.

Surely it is a mistake to allow a single youthful indiscretion to cloud an already promising career.

An Ode to the Loose and Wrinkly

written by RoozetteR, narrated by fire_juggler. Charlie/Severus. Rated E. 13 minutes.

Before Harry is brought to Grimmauld Place the summer before fifth year, Charlie sneaks away to the Burrow and blows Severus. That is all.

Of Comets and Counter-curses

written by Woldy, narrated by fire_juggler. Remus/Sirius. Rated T. 44 minutes. Traveling. Motorbike.

If the past is a foreign country, can travel help to resolve a troubled history? Dumbledore assigns Remus and Sirius a mission to explore three European cities, or perhaps to find each other. Written for the 2008 RS Games as part of Team Post-Hogwarts using the prompt 'Brothers on a Hotel Bed (Death Cab for Cutie)'.

Sympathy for the Devil

written by Writcraft, narrated by fire_juggler. Harry/Scorpius. Rated M. 40 minutes.

Scorpius has wanted Harry for years. So far, Harry has managed to resist. This Halloween Scorpius hopes to change his mind.

Never Unseen

written by HogwartsToAlexandria, narrated by JocundaSykes. Kingsley/Severus. Rated T. 12 minutes.

Saying he'd hoped the day Severus let him help would come would be overstating the facts, but Kingsley certainly was glad he'd been around the night the other man needed his help more than he needed his pride.

The Once and Future Headmaster

written by allthingsmagical, narrated by JocundaSykes. Albus/Harry. Rated T. 2 hours.

Never has there been a more hopeless crush.

Colourblind

written by Someone_aka_me, narrated by Lady Ravenclaw. Charlie/Draco. Rated T. 14 minutes.

"She says the colours will come when he is finally touching the person he is destined to fall in love with. She says that everything will change in the matter of a single moment." He is fourteen when the world goes sideways.

Slithering

written by astolat, narrated by Lazulus. Draco/Harry. Rated E. 2 hours, 30 minutes. Courtship. Snakes.

Draco found the nest down in the Manor’s cellars, while he was clearing them out.

Paranoia and Puns

written by You_Light_the_Sky, narrated by RuneLore. Cedric/Harry. Rated T. 1 hour, 20 minutes.

Harry makes three rules in order to survive his fourth year: 1) Watch the new DADA professor like a hawk, 2) Suspect all animals of being animagi, and 3) Avoid Cedric Diggory at all costs.

It's a shame Diggory didn't get the memo.

The Secret Language of Plants

written by Endrina, narrated by sephonered. Series. Remus/Severus; Draco/Harry. Rated E. Part 1: 3+ hours; Part 2: 7+ hours; Part 3: WIP.

“Just… tell me. Tell me what is going on, Snape.” What was going on was that Severus Snape had no trouble tracking down one Petunia Evans, now Dursley, to a little town in Surrey where he saw how exactly she was treating her nephew. Which somehow led to last night and Severus knocking on Lupin’s door with a toddler half-asleep in his arms.

Divination

written by smilebackwards, narrated by sisi_rambles. James/Regulus; James/Lily. Rated T. 8 minutes. Second POV. Sad ending.

Mars is bright.

Only One Word

written by EntreNous, narrated by smirkingcat. Draco/Remus. Rated E. 1 hour. Daddy kink.

Remus worries far too much what Draco thinks of the differences between them, until he discovers what Draco truly thinks.

Shall we descend once more, my Hades

written by megyal, narrated by smirkingcat. Draco/Severus. Rated E. 1 hour, 30 minutes.

[From the request: Later schoolyears, possibly seventh year | In return for killing Voldemort, Draco is given to Snape, to become his concubine. (Prompt: The Myth of Persephone)

[phantom-curve]

12 & 26?

12. Tell us about a WIP you're excited about.

currently there are two WIPs that I'm really excited about! the first one is for the fic raffle event, and it was originally intended to be a short prompt fill but instead it has turned into an entire AU that will probably end up being about 40-50k. it's probably the softest version of Juke I've ever written and is kind of an ode to growing up/currently living in a small town with a dash of Juke bonding over having similar obsessions with space as well as music. (also Rose may or may not have been murdered, still figuring that one out...) the other one is 100% just me reliving my culinary school glory days and I'm trying to incorporate some smau elements into it as well! basically Luke is a pretty cocky culinary student, and Julie is a baking and pastry student who is very annoyed by all of Luke's inherent chef-ness despite the fact that everyone else finds him pretty charming. I'm also playing around with a version of an enemies-to-lovers trope for that fic that features Luke having absolutely no idea that Julie considers him an enemy.

26. Is there anything you've wanted to write, but you've been too scared to try?

I really like the idea of writing a soulmate AU! (specifically for Juke because HELLO THEY ARE SOULMATES) but I also find it really intimidating. mostly because I have read some really good soulmate AUs where the focus is less on them being destined for each other and more choosing each other in addition to the fact that they also happen to be fated for each other and I don't know if that's something I could actually do justice without making it too corny. I also think that type of AU is hard to craft really unique ideas for and I don't quite feel up to the challenge.

ask me a fanfic writer question!

[legionmaster001]

My second and maybe, just maybe last post, as editing in the Tmblur app is still hell. This one still goes for @bl00dalchemist​’s characters, wich I love and owe a ton of inspiration.

I insist that this is not the kind of story that fits with them. However, I seriusly need to do this right, for the demons, for the bastard himself.

Again, I hope you all enjoy it.

The Black Death

“A dense mist engulfed the portuary town of Sicily as a dirty withe chariot aproached from the Northside one fatidic morning of October. The horses that pulled it looked sick, with their whinny resounding through the souls of those who first saw them like the pleads of a dying men, the rhymt of their gallop confessed the bad omens they carried in tounges that no one could speak. The sun wasn’t coming out that day, as even it cowered to the darkness that acompained the chariot.

—Aye! Aye! —exclaimed the charioteer, coughing and whipping his horses with his famelic arms and an old wip.

The mist stopped as the chariot did, like if it were a simple passanger itself. Near the entrance of the town, under the few houses that went to the end of the town and a sign of putrefacted wood and worn out letters, the real passager got out, saying not a single word to the poor looking driver before giving him a fist of herbs and a small sheet of paper.

—I owe you my life, sir —claimed the charioter, thankful and trustful.

—You shall pay me soon, then… —whispered the young man as he turned around, willing to travel what path was left to his destination on foot.

Only the sound of footsteps and the clicking sound of a wooden cane could be heard, as the townsfolk that stayed in their homes and businesses observed the withe haired but young foreigner with suspicion and intrigue. The man, with his black clothes, stiff cane and leather bag, never stared back. He was the doctor that the town needed, and he wasn’t in humor to humilliate the peasants that day.

—Maybe it’s too late… —Wondered the Doctor, scratching his withe beard. 

Almost running through the streets he directed himslef to the city’s port, guided by no one. Promptly he arrived to the dock, where rotting carcasses of the hanged still moored with rope around their necks. Ships of all sizes slowly swung, exhibiting like the corpses of the condemned. But the one that was supposed to soon touch land was an emissary of death was about unload a terrible charge; a Plague. 

His superiors had heard about it long before, and terrified predicted a wave of death and decay so great that it might as well be the end of all men. A disease so terrible that made the greatest Imperium of the world quail, that cared not about the children of god, killing everyone in its path, and transformed the deserts of the East in black seas, making all the Crusades look like a simple bar fight, and leaving piles upon piles of corpses, tall enough to cover the light of the morning sun.

—He is here!

—It can’t be.

—Just in the right moment.

The people that had gathered among the docks welcomed the Doctor with most expectation and joy. The strange man was a light of hope in their eyes, as the dim light of the early sun was completely covered by the mist of the morning, that with the help of the cloud that the Doctor carried, claimed the town for themselves. 

—What is happening here, my friend? —Asked the Doctor to the nearest man, putting his best smile. However, fear started to grow inside him as he realized that he already knew what was the problem.

—Ships came, the mariners look so sick, we’d never seen something like that! —Answered the man with nothing but fear in his eyes.

The Doctor walked to the sick mariners, seemingly calm, with only a few corageous enough and the constant feeling of having the spirits of the hanged swirling in the mist, to accompany him. Dead flesh by fingers and tumors as big as apples adorning their necks; the mariners had what was soon to be known as the Black Death. Such sight deeply affected the Doctor, that feared they wouldn’t survive enough to be played with, and make the townsfolk help them arrive to a church. He had more important things to do in the main ship, and as so, giving the excuse of finding a cause to such an horrible illness, he went alone. The folk cheered such an heroic behavior, for the Doctor was about to enter the guts of the beast.

He wandered to the insides of the ship, slowly revealing his nature: skin gray as ashes of the dead, theet and claws sharp and short as daggers to eviscerate, a tail that moved elegantly over the ground, and horns long and curved in a beautiful but simple way, with black ends. The demon Doctor finally was free, as he both rejoiced and shivered at the results of the Black Death; mariners abandoned still alive, drowning in their own vomited blood, corpses filled to the brim with tumors, and at the end of it all, a rotten, destroyed last corpse of what seemed to be a rather small and young man roughly dressed as a Eastern Companion Lady. It was of a unnatural pinkish color, from hair to inners, including the skin. It’s odor was strangely sweet.

—Not even the rats would claim this one… —Said the Doctor, poking the rotten corpse with his cane, not impressed with the weirdness of the body. A expression of disgust was on his face.

—But you can, it’s not that expensive —answered the supposed corpse in a sweet tone, or at least the sweetest it could do with its vocal cords so damaged.

—What in the bloody name of lord Baal…?

The now somewhat alive youngster extended a tounge like a venomous serpent, wich slowly coiled around the Doctor’s cane in a unsuccessful attempt to look somewhat provocative. The Doctor looked at him with mistrust, as he didn’t want another demon on his lands, even less one that could put in risk his entire career. But something called the attention of the Doctor: the young, rotten, blighted and lustful demon had glittering eyes with a strange beauty on them. The Doctor stared at them, almost forggoting for what he was there. Something was deeply wrong with its irregular and dead green iris and yellow sclera, but it wasn’t any kind of magic.

—Who the hell are you and what is your business here? —Asked the Doctor as politely as his word enabled him to be, snapping out of his trance and pulling his cane out of the mouth of the living corpse, ripping its tounge— I just cleaned this thing…

—My name is Gillian, and I am a humble Satan’s servant like you —said Gillian after he grew another tounge— born in holy land like you, ended up in the west, where Lord Belcebub gave me his most recent toy. Really not my type, but kinky, I must admit.

—Go to the point —The Doctor was quickly losing his scarce patience.

—Whatever you say, big boy. I was taken by those called Mongols in an invasion, they used me and threw me to the walls of a city —Gillian stopped to whisper, curses or compliments, it didn’t matter to the Doctor —, and I came with the merchants that ran from the war, and here you have me. So, do you want me to…?

The Doctor interrupted Gillian, tapping the wooden planks with his cane. The smug and peaceful expression with wich he entered the ship was again in his face. He Scratched his beard again, meditating about the situation. Before speaking he put on a small pair of reading glasses.

—I want you to leave. Now! —Shouted the Doctor, clearly mad. Fur od the same grey of his skin slowly spreaded around his body as it grew taller and demonic in form— I can’t afford to lose all my potential patients because of your pestilence!

The horns of the Doctor were about to break the ceiling when a flame materialized between them, taking the form of a shining crown.

—You don’t sound like a doctor at all —said Gillian, carefree and rather relaxed, almost like if he enjoyed the anger proyected at him, and unable to see.

—I am, but I have no enough hands, nor patience to amputate all this people, it wouldn’t even be fun anymore —The Doctor turned around, ready to leave. The boy didn’t whort the risk of beign discovered that soon— I am not the only one that will get damaged by this situation, so is better if you swim back to the East.

—I will see what I can do, hotstuff, but, sure u’ don’t want some of this? —Gillian lifted his leg, showing off what was left of it before it fell, leaving nothing but a small pool of black mush.

—Never in my 1,369 years of life have I been so horrified…

—It is not the last time you’ll say that, I bet —Gillian chuckled.

Breathing deep the Doctor started to leave, thinking of ways to actually save some lifes before the plage started to get worse. His demonic form disipated with the mist of the outside, letting the sun light enter through the few holes in the ship and hit both demons.

—Anyway, before you leave, what is your name? —Asked Gillian, trying to slowly cralw.

—Kinto —Was the only answer.

Gillian stopped in his tracks, now looking at Kinto under the sun light, he knew the name, everyone did. Kinto was the demon that singlehandedly transformed part of the Holy Order of Knights of the Hospital of Saint John of Jerusalem from loyal and godfearing warriors to an encrazed cult that practiced surgery on the child of the christian and muslim alike in the chaos of the damned cruzades, and the demon who made his golden earrings from the crosses of the Templar fallen heroes. All despite of being all but a warrior demon.

One last time Kinto looked behind, to see the pink son of the wither, angrier than ever, not for his actions and indiference, but because he felt a kind of warmth that no scream, bloody murder or great payment had given to him, all when looking at those rotten, glittering eyes.

In that cold morning Kinto, the cruel image of the sadism dressed as men of medicine, the corruption of those to swore protect, cure and save, met both the factor and the person that would end his current life, and forever change his eternal one, just like the world itself”.

Omfg I realized how many errors of all kinds I commited. I am so sorry. I don’t feel like a Fan anymore.

For those to made it to the end despite it beign just a slightly improved version; a trillion thanks.

[parttimeghost]

FIND THE WORD TAG

thanks to the lovely @j-1173 for the tag!

my words are: PRESS, TOUCH, NOD, COLOUR, & EYE

PRESS

“I don’t want to do this.” Morgan’s eyes alight. “I know. But you will. Don’t you see Merlin? We don’t have a choice. This is how it plays out. How it was always going to play out.” She presses forward, chest heaving against the blade. Her hand slips up toward his cheek, threading her fingers through his hair as she had all those years ago. “It’s alright. Everything is going to be alright. You can let me go. I’m glad it’s you, my friend.”

TOUCH

The mural was as old as the castle itself, perhaps even older. It had become something of a tradition for incoming mages and sorcerers studying at the castle to offer their own addition to the mural at the commencement of their studies, as a sort of offering or statement of commitment to the art. It was a patchwork of various styles and abilities, dozens of different hands adding their own personal touch over the years. Staking their claim as part of a lineage much greater than themselves. Claiming unity in one of the most individual ways possible.

NOD

“I always fancied moving out to the countryside; nature is an important part of magic, correct?” With Nyneve’s soft nod, she continued. “Perhaps, once the children are born, we find ourselves a little cottage, I like to think the two of us could manage to run a house together, with everything you’ve been teaching me these last few months. “Think of it, Evie, they could grow up amongst the trees and the wildflowers, learning magic amongst the tansy weeds.”

COLOUR

Sometimes they were simply embarrassing anecdotes, like the time when Arthur had set the kitchen on fire in his attempt to bake a pie for Merlin’s coming-of-age picnic. Others were more unsettling. Arthur standing atop a dais, an older man by his side whose crown shone with jewels the colour of fire from the pyre, his hand resting on the hilt of an ebony blade. Morgan herself standing in front of an army helmed by Arthur, blade and magic swirling in her palm. Gwen towering over her, tears in her eyes and the sword in her hand pointed at Morgan’s throat. Merlin, dead amongst the ruin of a thousand trees. The isle in flames.

EYE

Brief flashes of golden light would stream past his sight, fluttering over his skin before disappearing. This phenomenon brought about two thoughts. One. He wasn’t blind. At least not entirely. He was still concerned about the fact that he couldn’t see out of his left eye but that was a problem for future Arthur. He could work with one eye. Two. Someone with magic was attempting to heal him. That was nice of them. Especially considering who he was. Who his father was.

no pressure tags: @blind-the-winds, @lockejhaven, and anyone else that feels like joining in!

Your words are: WARN, WAIT, THREAD, HIDE, & BURN.

And if you can’t find any of the words, feel free to share something else about your WIP that you’re proud of. It might be a piece of dialogue, a fun bit of worldbuilding, or a character you love. <3

WIP AOTTD TAG LIST (message/ask to be added/removed <3)

@lockejhaven @marinesocks @andromedatalksaboutstuff @midnight-and-his-melodiverse

[parttimeghost]

It's Work In Progress Wednesday, and (shockingly) I actually have some progress to share with my main WIP! University is out for the year (for me, at least), and that means I finally have some time to work on my personal projects, starting with An Ode to the Destined ver. 02.

I'm currently working on finishing the prologue and starting Part I: New Old Friends (more than a month after completing the opening historical excerpts), so I figured I'd share a snippet starring Laudine (one of my favourite characters from the Old Camelot Crew). Transcript and taglist below the cut! <3

“If anyone asks, you were here enquiring after a book on the battle of Troy. I understand that’s a topic of interest with the Lord Agrestes boy.”

“All boys seem to be enamoured with the idea of battle Master Geoffrey. With the promise of victory and power and glory. I fear they will find the truth of the matter rather less appealing.”

“I dare say they will, Lady Laudine, I dare say they will.” Master Atlantes sighs, guiding her toward the exit as a pair of knights tumble into through the door.

WIP AOTTD TAG LIST (message/ask to be added/removed <3)

@lockejhaven @marinesocks @andromedatalksaboutstuff @midnight-and-his-melodiverse

[parttimeghost]

Here she is! The oft-talked about, but seldom worked upon, WIP Reintroduction for An Ode to the Destined (and just in time for NaNoWriMo)! So, without further ado, let's crack in. Character Bios, Taglist, and Transcript below the cut <3

THE BASICS —

arthurian retelling / rewrite (second draft) / dual timelines / aroace morgan le fay / the love triangle to poly relationship pipeline / refusal of the call (villain edition) / a weaving-based magic system

THE SYNOPSIS —

The prophecies of Taliesin will not come to pass. Twenty years after the Purge; twenty years after she was spirited away from the citadel by the Lady of the Lake, Morgan returns to Camelot in an attempt to make sense of her own vision and finds herself faced with the consequences of another's.

Cast in the role of the villain, Morgan works to prove herself to her allies and enemies alike. But when the line between prophecy and reality becomes blurred, and the veil is spread thin, will Morgan be able to forge her own path? Or will she be doomed to tread the well-worn path of Taliesin's bloody prophecy?

THE CHARACTERS —

MORGAN OF AVALON is a seer plagued with visions of an infinite possible futures. But when each thread she follows leads to a single moment in time (one that she, disconcertingly, cannot see beyond), Morgan travels to Camelot to seek the truth behind her visions.

PRINCE AURELIUS ARTHUR PENDRAGON OF CAMELOT is not his father. Kept hidden in the depths of the palace like a precious jewel, Arthur finds kinship in the Archivist's adopted son, a young warlock by the name of Merlin. Under the cover of night, Merlin tells Arthur of Taliesin's prophecies, and he finds himself dreading and longing, in equal measure, for the day he will finally meet his twin sister.

GUINEVERE OF CAMELOT is invisible, not blind. The daughter of an archivist who is charged more often with the destruction of knowledge than the preservation of it, she learnt to hide precious books from prying eyes before she learnt to read them. Learnt to write in code before she learnt to write in cursive. Approached by a mysterious member of Camelot's Court, Gwen takes her first steps into a wider resistance.

MERLIN OF CAMELOT is a warlock haunted by echoes of a former life and a prophecy dictating the course of his current one. Once resigned to a life of infinite sadness and death, Merlin finds himself faced with a choice: kill the Witch of prophecy and fulfil his duty or aid her in her quest to save Albion?

LANCELOT OF EIRALORR DU LAC is the heir to a kingdom of ghosts and rubble. Having sacrificed herself to close a tear in the veil and save her kingdom nearly six hundred years ago, only for it to fall to civil war four years later, Lancelot finds herself wrapped in the tangled, fraying threads of an event thousands of years in the making.

MORDRED OF THE KRAIGH WILDES is a young warlock with a terrible destiny. Exiled from his home due to the machinations of a seer and a prophecy he wants no part in, Mordred seeks to bring justice to those that would target his people in the hopes that he might one day be allowed to return home.

THE TAGLIST (message/ask to be added/removed <3)—

@lockejhaven @marinesocks @andromedatalksaboutstuff @midnight-and-his-melodiverse

THE TRANSCRIPT —

Nyneve tore her way through the empty stone halls, a cloak woven of sorrow and stolen shadows whispering around her ankles as she muttered charm after charm beneath her breath, her voice steady despite the grief clawing at her heart and throat, demanding her attention. Because Ygraine was dead.

[parttimeghost]

Heads Up, Seven Up Tag

thanks for the tag, @eccaiia!

rules: share 7(ish) lines from your recent wip!

i haven't had much of a chance to be working on wip an ode to the destined for a while now (uni assessments and the like) but i've slowly been chipping away at it. so here's an excerpt from the prologue focusing on the 'prequels' gang (nyneve, ygraine, myrddin, and laudine) and the events leading up to the purge.

“When I heard Ygraine was−” Her voice cracks and she presses closer still, desperate to ground herself in Nyneve’s presence. “And there’s been rumours Master Atlantes has been arrested and then I saw Myrddin in the corridors looking for the other child and Uther’s organising a manhunt for the two of you and then when I couldn’t find you−” I thought you might be dead too. Nyneve pulls back from the embrace, hand clasping around Laudine’s as she pulls it toward her. She stays silent for a moment, turning the words over it her mind. It’s been a long time since she’s had such trouble finding the right words; a long time since those early months navigating her new life in Camelot and her new friendships with Ygraine and Laudine and Myrddin. It’s been a long time since she’s had such trouble finding the right words and yet she finds herself stuck. Because what good were mere words when the very fabric upon which the world was built seemed to be fraying? “I’m here,” she murmurs. And it isn’t a lot but it’s enough. It has to be enough. “I’m here.”

no pressure tags: @blind-the-winds, @memento-morri-writes, @lockejhaven, and anyone else who feels like joining in!

[parttimeghost]

Find the Word Tag

jumping on @j-1173's latest find the word tag!

my words are: BRIGHT, HELLO, DARK, HAIR, & AROUND

BRIGHT & DARK

In any other time, in any other place, she would simply summon spell light to brighten the dark path. But now was not the time, nor the place, so she contented herself to walking amongst the shadows, letting years of memories guide her when her sight could not.

HELLO

At Nyneve’s gentle nudge she gathers Morgan up in her arms, “Hello sweetheart. It’s so very nice to meet you.” She glances back toward Nyneve. “We need to get you and Morgan out of here. It won’t take long for Uther to realise the two of you have escaped. Where are you planning to go?”

HAIR

Master Atlantes sits amongst piles of scrolls, half-moon glasses sliding precariously down his face, the curve of his nose, twice broken, seemingly keeping them in place as he scans the document in front of him. The chair in front of him is occupied by a young man, whose messy black hair is littered with twigs and apple blossoms, an unhealed cut across his cheek tinged red with blood, all and all forming the picture of someone who got into a fight with a tree and lost.

AROUND

tw: discussions of death, discussions of war

“No one is truly innocent Merlin. Not in war. It weaves its way into our very bones, unmaking us; reweaving our very souls until nothing of who we once were remains. We are, all of us, already dead. I am only performing our final rites.” “You don’t really believe that. You don’t.” She turns around, teeth and magic bared, golden threads sparking at her fingertips. “Who are you to tell me what I believe?”

no pressure tags: @writingpotato07, @eccaiia, and anyone else that feels like joining in!

Your words are: WHY, LEAVE, HOUSE, CAUGHT, & MIDDLE.

And if you can’t find any of the words, feel free to share something else about your WIP that you’re proud of. It might be a piece of dialogue, a fun bit of worldbuilding, or a character you love. <3

WIP AOTTD TAG LIST (message/ask to be added/removed <3)

@lockejhaven @marinesocks @andromedatalksaboutstuff @midnight-and-his-melodiverse

[parttimeghost]

Find the Word Tag

thank you to @marigoldispeculiar for the tag (also: hi! <3)

my words are: TELL, FELL, WELL, SHELL, & SMELL

TELL

Head to the Isle of Avalon; you’ll be safe there. Show them this,” She presses Moronoe’s dagger into his palm, his fingers curling gently—hesitatingly—around the hilt, “tell them Morgan sent you and that I’m sorry I haven’t been able to write recently, but that I’m okay. Can you do that?” When he doesn’t answer, she prompts, “Mordred. Can you do that?”

FELL

She would tell them of the years that followed. Of the families that had approached her in the dead of night, frightened faces alight with the flames of cloth torches, babes tucked beneath their cloaks whose sleeping chests rose and fell in time with the winds.

WELL

Merlin nods, flipping over on the bed so he’s facing her, elbows sinking into the mattress. “There’s always a feast after the first day of the tournament. It’s supposed to–” He coughs, pitching his voice deeper to mimic the King. “Commemorate the memories of the late Lady Ygraine and her daughter, as well as the anniversary of Arthur’s adoption. Kind of weird to me. But I guess nothing says paying respects to the dead like almost joining them.”

SHELL

She wonders if he would believe the king's lies. Believe that his sister had bartered away pieces of her soul in return for power; believe that the Laudine that remained was but an empty shell, all magic and hunger and power.

SMELL

tw: injury, discussions of death

He laughs, a soft, breathy thing, glancing up at Uther from behind wild hair. “A king that is afraid of an honest duel is hardly the kind of man that should sit upon the throne. How can he be expected to defend his kingdom when he will not even defend his own pride? Cowardice is hardly becoming of a King, Uther. And besides,” He takes a breath as gold sparks around his wrists, the smell of burning flesh permeating the air. A preview of what is surely to come. “You and your son could always refuse to pick up the gauntlet, show everyone what cowards you really are.”

no pressure tags: @athemarina, @j-1173, and anyone else that feels like joining in!

Your words are: EXPRESS, TEAR, SHARP, SLIP, & STONE.

And if you can’t find any of the words, feel free to share something else about your WIP that you’re proud of. It might be a piece of dialogue, a fun bit of worldbuilding, or a character you love. <3

[parttimeghost]

Heads Up, Seven Up 2: The Electric Boogaloo

Thanks for the tag @indigocastor!

RULES: Share 7(ish) lines from your recent wip!

Tagging @motswriting, @marinesocks, @unluckybasil, and anyone else that feels like jumping in. <3

I'm currently reworking WIP An Ode to the Destined so here are a couple of lines from the opening section: New Old Friends (below the cut).

[Text ID: Part I/New Old Friends/“The true nature of the events leading up to the Benwick Civil War (572−569 BPR) are a point of major contention between ancient archivists. Whilst theories undoubtedly vary, most point toward the death of King Bran’s daughter and heir apparent (whose name has since been lost to antiquity) during the Siege of Eiralorr (573 BPR) as the catalyst for such unrest./Without an established heir, King Bran’s rule would have been vulnerable to other interested parties. Bran was said to have been murdered in the winter of 572 BPR during ritual combat initiated by his third cousin, the sorceress Nimueh of Eiralorr. Recovered documents suggest that as many as eleven rulers claimed right to the throne during this three-year period, the shortest document reign belonging to the seventeen-year-old Vivienne of Aurwyr who, having been crowned during the winter solstice of 570 BPR, was executed by her cousin, Lucius of Aurwyr just six days later.”/ — Mazoe of Avalon, Historia Albionniae /End ID.]

[parttimeghost]

It's Work In Progress Wednesday, and NaNoWriMo 2022 is officially underway! So to celebrate, here's an excerpt from Chapter I: The Isle of Avalon.

Transcript and taglist below the cut! <3

"These are the kinds of stories that I wish I could tell you were not true.” Nyneve sighs, settling down into the worn green armchair in front of the dying kitchen hearth. “But to do so, my loves, would be a disservice. And so, I tell you these stories. I give you these lessons, this knowledge, paid for in blood, in the hope that you never have to use them. I give you these lessons in the knowledge that you will.”

WIP AOTTD TAG LIST (message/ask to be added/removed <3)

@lockejhaven @marinesocks @andromedatalksaboutstuff @midnight-and-his-melodiverse

[parttimeghost]

Heads Up, Seven Up

tagged by the wonderful @tsainami <3

rules: share the last seven lines you wrote and tag seven people.

She nods shallowly at the knights as she passes, the pair of them smiling at her and bowing in return. Slipping into the halls and into an empty room, she lets her smile drop and sighs, head bowing into the cool stone of the walls with a silent prayer. She presses the empty book into her chest, “I’ll see you in two weeks.” Two weeks. She would be okay for two weeks. She would have to be. Two weeks.

no pressure tags: @asher-orion-writes, @awordchemist, @writingpotato07, @eccaiia, @bookish-galaxy, @blind-the-winds, @athemarina, and anyone else that wants to join in! <3

[parttimeghost]

4 & 20 for the writing ask meme?

Hi Finn, thanks for the ask!

4. what does it take for you to be proud of something you’ve written?

tagging @marinesocks because she also asked this question! <3

I think the thing that brings me the most joy in a WIP, the thing I'm most proud of, are the little details. I'm a big fan of parallels and foreshadowing, easter eggs, little references to my other works, and extended motifs. It's the way each detail is a little love letter to something important in my life right now, the way I'll be able to look back at these little patchworks, these scrapbooks in written form, and see myself reflected in them.

20. where do you begin a WIP? ex: a mood, a scene, a certain character dynamic, etc. does this differ per project?

I think it definitely differs from project to project. For WIP An Ode to the Destined, it was my own interest in Arthurian mythology and, more specifically, Morgan le Fay's developing role. There was this quote in an academic article I read wherein the author stated that: "male Arthurian authors [were] increasingly unable to image powerful women in positive terms". And it was kind of a metatextual concept, the idea that Morgan was never going to be the hero of this story because a powerful woman could only ever be the villain. And that's how the story evolved: Morgan, born with magic, prophesied to become the villain of a story that was never her's to begin with.

For WIP The Subtle Art of Counting Crows...I think it was the character dynamic that first came to me. These three kids whose lives were cut short, who died and came back different. Who have no home to go back to and that, even if they did, they don't really belong to anymore. Who find one another against all odds and create something new.

WIP Vignettes of a Life I Never Lived Vol. One was definitely a vibe and I feel like that really carried through into the actual feel of the WIP itself (which I feel is very kind of ethereal and full of promises, written in possible future tense).

[parttimeghost]

WIP Changes Tag

thanks to @writingpotato07 for the tag!

WIP AN ODE TO THE DESTINED

The Original Nine Priestesses of the Isle had a way bigger role in the first draft, especially Morgause (the eldest of the Nine). They were the ones that wove the veil between the mortal world and the spirit world in the times of Old Kameloth and act as spiritual mentors to Morgan throughout the book. I still have lots of plans for the characters (particularly for a few stories in a sort of 'prequels' anthology), but they don't appear as often in the main storyline (more as easter egg mentions).

Lancelot was originally not going to appear until the second book. And she was originally going to be used in a sort of 'fake Guinevere' storyline where Uther forced her to act as the 'real Morgana' to discredit Morgan as she worked to end Uther's reign.

Laudine originally had a way smaller role (as in non-existent). She was one of the background characters in the feast scene that morgan talks to before she talks to Uther for the first time. But then she just kept turning up, and I love her for that.

The addition of little historical book excerpts at the beginning of each section (I think I posted one of them for a Heads Up, Seven Up Tag a while back). They're like little easter eggs and extra worldbuilding for the upcoming section and super fun to write!

no pressure tags: @j-1173, @marinesocks, and anyone else that feels like joining in!

[parttimeghost]

A N O D E T O T H E D E S T I N E D ; wip introduction

an ode to the destined is an arthurian retelling from the perspective of morgan (le fay). raised by the lady of the lake, nyneve, along with her eight adoptive sisters, morgan is plagued by seer dreams of possible futures. approached by the original nine high priestesses, morgan embarks on a journey to camelot to stop king uther from destroying magic in its entirety, lest the veil between worlds unravel.

coming to terms with her lineage as daughter of uther, morgan must now forge her own path. does she trust her brother, the prophesied once and future king, raised under uther's careful guidance? or does she take the throne herself and risk fulfilling taliesin's prophecies of the once and future witch's bloody reign?

what to expect:

✧ arthurian retelling from morgan's perspective ✧ arthurian legend x rapunzel (except gothel was right) ✧ refusal of the call (villain edition) ✧ weaving-based magic system ✧ found family vibes ✧ aroace morgan le fay

T R A N S C R I P T

[excerpt reads: There lies, hidden behind well-woven curtains of mist and moonlight, an isle. Those who know of the isle call it the Isle of Apples. Those who do not simply know it as Avalon.

And on this isle, there lived nine sisters. end excerpt.]