Even though Marathel had left her rigid shutters open, hoping to be awoken with the rising sun, she was unaware that the sunrise faced the opposite side of her little house. So, she remained in deep sleep, sprawled diagonally across her bed, when her holopad began a rhythmic beeping. The beeping went on for quite some time, and managed to infiltrate her dreams, where she had been frantically trying to get Din’s attention as he flew at a terrifying speed straight towards a blue-green planet. As she screamed his name, trying to alert him to whatever the beeping was, Din continued to ignore her. In desperation, she spun his chair around, and his flight suit collapsed flat as if his body suddenly discorporated, his empty helmet falling to the floor at her bare feet.
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tagged by @colonel-dynamite-gun @capnmarvl @themaniacisinthemailbox
I don't want to put some snippet of my fic, so here is a part of a little project I have, some time ago I got hit by this idea of a sexy calendar, so here is the first of twelve images that i'm working on.
guess who is this turian XD
I don't know who to tag so I will just leave an open invitation XD to everyone that may want to join, just tag me as if I have tagged you XD
I’ve finally got a free day to write (mostly). If you’d like to send me an emoji from the list below, I'll write 2 or 3 sentences for that wip and share it! Feel free to send as many emojis as you'd like, I will get to them as I work through em!
I just thought this would be a fun way to get some of these worked on more! Thanks for playing with me!
🧇 Waffle House | daniel blake x lovergirl!reader | It’s moving day! Time for a Midwest staple!
🏈 Unnamed | daniel blake x lovergirl!reader | ccod thanksgiving week day 4: tailgate | An Ohioans rite of passage: Tailgating at a Brownie’s game.
🩺 Not Like This | buck cashman x nurse!reader | No description yet!! -> takes place during the last days of Karen Page’s trial and includes the aftermath of what happens to Buck in episode 8 lmao -> an appearance from Wilson Fisk and Heather Glenn
🦇 The Lore | eddie munson x bats (fem!reader) | ccodtober day 12: bats | eddie tells the girls why he calls their mama, bats.
🚛 Honey Almond Blues | eddie munson x waitress!reader | new ‘verse potentially? i haven’t written the description yet but eddie’s a truck driver and he’s crushin’ on a waitress he sees a lot during his route. takes place from 1987 to 1992 and then the open verse would start
🍿 The Love of My Life | eric (aqp:do) x fem!reader | ccodtober day 3: caramel corn | at an adoption fair your job is handling, eric spots the love of your life.
🏠 We Bought a House | jamie (kin) x disaster!reader | You and Jamie bought a house!
🧦 The Ugly Stocking | sam o’brien (warfare) x not-the-mrs. o’brien!reader | ccod fluffmas day 9: stocking | Ginger needs a stocking.
⚾️ Unnamed | ray garraty x fem!reader | no description yet— as far as i’ve gotten is semi-plotting this thing -> contains an established relationship, a boy being misleading about his intentions when it comes to the walk, and a wish being granted -> will not be following the ending of the movie. themes of mental and physical illness will be touched on
Gonna be setting aside some time today to work on these! Consider yourself tagged if you want to play— i just need to work on some stuff LMAO
A huge thank you to tags and uno reverses from: @mellybaggins @gortashsrighthand @archduchessgortash @defira85 @bladesingerlily @thecampjuicebox @faeriiefire @optimisticgrey @wasteful-sam @riddlerosehearts @missfortunetherogue 💜💜 Also consider yourselves uno reversed tagged 😉
Thought I was going to make it on Wednesday for once - got pretty close! Honestly, I just haven’t felt like much this week, but I had a moment late last night where I had the motivation to write a little bit and thought I’d use it for this week.
I’ve been working through Act 2 and it’s probably the darkest part of Ellie’s story (mostly). She’s beginning to lose people faster than she can save them — including Gale — and it’s colliding with her past and well…it’s a lot. In this one they’ve just found Arabella’s parents. Geeze, I’m going to have to finally break down and write some smut to offset all this gloom. 😅
The silence was just as oppressive outside the room as it had been inside, but at least out here she wouldn’t have to look at the bodies. Though with every blink she saw them anyway.
The twisted limbs. Vacant eyes. All the unnatural angles a body shouldn’t be.
The shadow cursed lands seemed determined to swallow sound. Even the wind moved through Reithwin without a sound, carrying a damp scent of ruin, rot, and rain. Yet somehow the quiet only made it easier to imagine what had happened in there. How long it had taken or if they had even known it was happening.
She found herself hoping the curse had claimed them first long before that thing ever laid its hands on them. Her stomach twisted with guilt. It was a cruel thought, wishing for one death over another, but whatever had happened in that room felt worse.
The moment she’d understood what she saw, the impulse flared hot. Her hand reached for her sword with the intention of ending the abomination standing there, speaking of helping and healing while her patients lie twisted in their beds. One thrust would be enough. Simple, clean, satisfying.
And Arabella’s parents would still be dead.
“Shit!” The curse swallowed the word as soon as it left her mouth.
Send mum and pops there. I’ll be waiting.
Arabella’s voice still echoed, so hopeful and certain her parents were waiting somewhere until it was safe. Believed in Ellie so completely she hadn’t doubted that her parents would walk back into camp any moment now, pull her into their arms, and tell her everything would be alright.
Children had such an unfair talent for belief, and Arabella had believed in her completely. Now all Ellie had to bring to the girl now were terrible answers.
She tried to rationalize it. Tell herself that it was more than she’d ever been given. At least Arabella wouldn’t spend years staring at strangers in crowded streets wondering if they shared her eyes. Wouldn’t lie awake inventing stories about people she couldn’t remember or build entire lives for ghosts simply because the alternative was accepting she would never know.
Yet standing only feet away from the truth, Ellie found herself almost grateful for the uncertainty she’d spent so many years resenting. Surely certainty wasn’t the kinder fate in this situation.
Tagging: @kcwriter-blog @babydinosaur930 @asorceresswrites @arcanearcherayz @toomanyfamiliars @purplemilk27 @tynithia @tociminna @dr4gonwriter @scoldingdarjeeling @saylofwaterdeep and everyone else who is writing (tag me if you do!)
Three cheers for me for actually posting a WIP on a Wednesday. It may never happen again; let’s savour the moment.
Thank you for the lovely tags over the last week, friends; @dynamicducks @fireflyeyes @perpetualmaladaptivedaydream @dr4gonwriter @rdekarios @gortashsrighthand @carnivaley @cinder-rellish181 💕 you’re all v wonderful for thinking of me!
I’ve been working on the next chapter of You’ve Got Gale, so here’s a snippet!
An entire day passes without a reply to his letter. And, whilst Gale is almost certain that he did not overstep, he cannot help but try to recall everything he wrote down, word for word. Going forward, he assures himself, he will simply write out each letter in duplicate, so as to always have a copy of his own writing to hand. Which is of course a perfectly rational reaction to not having received a letter for twenty-four hours from, for all intents and purposes, a stranger.
He does not encounter Tabitha Cauldart for an entire day, either. The relief he expects to wash over him at this realisation does not come. Instead, he is unsettled. Professor Cauldart does not seem, for all of her many other flaws, workshy. It could be that the woman is purposely avoiding him; perhaps not so hard to believe after their last encounter. As much as Gale is loathe to admit it, this may now warrant an apology of sorts.
He may doubt her teaching methods — if that is what he must call them — as a colleague. But the brief moment in which he had witnessed Tabitha's lips tremble has plagued him; unable now to stop analysing the moment he had offended her. Unable to stop recalling more details than just her downturned mouth. That he had doubted in her abilities on a personal level was, he admits, deeply ungentlemanly and not at all professional.
It plagued him over dinner as Tara had berated his detachment from their conversation; the way Tabitha's already flushed cheeks had drained of colour in the face of his contempt. It plagued him as he'd tried to read; that she had initially been unable to look at him. It plagued him as he'd lain in bed that night, wide awake until dawn had been upon the approach; the moment she'd tried to feign a smile only to find that the spark in those seaglass green eyes had dimmed. It plagued him that he was bothered by it, by her, at all.
He had therefore prepared to face her, to offer an olive branch — that branch being an olive coloured handkerchief he has inexplicably held on to for reasons unknown to him — and apologise for his blunder.
Uno reverse to beautiful pals who tagged me and some no pressure tags to more beautiful moots: @saylofwaterdeep @toomanyfamiliars @theendofanerror @helyanwe4608 @galeswetdoeeyes @tociminna @totally-irritated
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Man, I was really really really hoping to finish writing the ending of Seeing Blind this week before going on vacation, but it looks like it's coming on my trip with me after all. Here's a teaser from the beginning of chapter 7, anyway.
*****
Akram looks doubtful, but he doesn't press. "You have given up on trying to use your powers in the way you used to, then," he says. "As Merritt did?"
Carl thinks about telling him that it's none of his fucking business, but if he's too churlish, Akram's going to start to suspect that he's putting it on a bit thick. "I don't know," he says. "Yeah. Maybe. What was it you said? Better off as I am now."
"I believe I said I thought you might prefer it as you are," Akram corrects him. "Better? This is not for me to say. But I'm not certain that you need to make it as black and white as you seem to."
"A door is open, or it's closed," Carl says with asperity. "Not much nuance there, friend."
Akram sighs. "I should never have used that metaphor. It's all you can see now. Never mind," he adds, getting up and pulling his cap and gloves back on again. "I can tell you don't wish to discuss it."
He doesn't. What he wants is for Akram to take the gloves off and slide his hands around his throat and flow into his mind like cool water hissing onto hot lava, like a knife slipping into an infected wound to drain away the poison, like a grindstone blunting away all his sharp and jagged edges. But he's going to need all his spite and venom for whatever awaits them on Mhòr.
