#prim writes

Creator of Gen Z AU -> #GZEltingville

Co-owner @primroseduck 🐣

Writer @waffleofwisdom 🤖

Artist + emotional support @lcs-scar ⭐️

LORE || Misconceptions & Common Questions || My GZEltingville arts ↯

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#primwrites -> Prim's writing of GZEltingville

This is a stupid idea, and she knows it. Showing up unannounced at the Sharps’ door is catastrophically dumb, and will most likely result in her being blacklisted from any and all places, parties, and functions in high society for being a “predatory whore unabashedly determined to corrupt Roger and Virginia Sharp’s daughter.” Helen had told her in those exact words what people would say if she ever came to her house with the sole intention of seeing her outside of the designated hours. It’s unfortunate, then, that she is currently perched beside the perfectly manicured garden outside the Sharps’ manor, leaning against the hood of her crumbling Honda, waiting for Helen to catch a glimpse of Madeline through the window.

summary:

Old friends are moving to town. Caleb Widogast wishes he hadn't introduced Jester Lavorre to his past by mistake. (A Dresden Files AU.)

“Helen,” Madeline sing-songs through the house, ocean-esque vibrato weaving its way through the halls. “Are you ready?”

Her name is in lights once again, a microcosm of stars suspended above the sidewalk.

close-up: madeline ashton singing with a lovesick expression

It had all happened so fast. She had been so, so incredibly drunk. Well, drunk and hopped up on copious amounts of Molly. And cocaine. And probably the high she had gotten from yet another show opened and sold-out for the foreseeable future. And from finding out her mother finally tripped and broke her entire leg in the process (“penance,” Madeline called it). Regardless of the circumstances, the main point is this: at some point, Madeline Ashton had snuck off to a corner of her yard and stripped. This, in and of itself, is not an issue; she has many nude photos of herself floating around, saved to Pinterest boards and regular corkboards by some creep in the woods of Missouri. The problem lies in who was with her.

the tabloids have no respect for celebrities' privacy (and madeline ashton gets firsthand experience)

inspired by pictures of last night ended up online (i'm screwed) by songsetblvd (it is quite literally the exact same premise. go read the original fic, too!!)

his friends knelt in grieved agony over the corpse of a loved one he'd never met. and he closed his eyes,

and he prayed,

and he stood in front of melora and the raven queen, a cleric with the god-given duty to keep vigil over the border between life and death, and he felt no shame as he asked for the skein of fate to be rewoven.

the arrogance! the gall!

he said, "whatever it was, just put it back. i think they've earned it. put it back."

and melora turned to the raven queen and said, "surely, you can't say no."

and the raven queen said, "i absolutely can."

and a voice beneath the raven queen said, "i think it would be better not to, my lady."

and the raven queen paused as they all looked down at the black-feathered man with a bone-white antler protruding from his shoulder.

and an eternity and a moment passed, and the raven queen said, "i will allow one more chance. one more."

and from her hand the small orange mote pulsed, and it heard its friends' pleas once more, and this time summoned within it enough strength to drift to the outstretched palm of the wild lady of arvandor, an-melzidanye, the wild mother.

and the raven queen bowed her head, the mask expressionless.

and melora smiled down at the mote of life and said, "so it shall be, dear one."

summary:

When the gods made mortals, one wove threads of fate-touched red through every soul. Then a day came that tore this tapestry to shreds. Everyone can tie the red threads of their souls to whomever they wish. This doesn't change very much of the Mighty Nein's story, but what it does change—that is this story.

preview: