#i miss writing josephine so much.

[codevanish]

i know it has been quite some time ... alas ... click the <3 for a starter ,

[hornkerling]

Perhaps my first worldstate will be Nasrin's, Vivienne as Divine. I never expected the tie-in cardgame bioware threw together to introduce the Dragon Age Keep would take over my brain the way it did, but taking a bad throw from The Last Court and creating Nasrin was delightful. I love her and Vivienne together. This was one of the last fics I wrote for them. Art my @villnis-archive

The party is delightful. Josephine has not outdone herself–Vivienne expects that none of them have seen the ambassador truly stretch the limits of her capabilities. Some things, even at the end of the world, are too vast. But the pleasantry rolls off her tongue and Josephine accepts it with grace and barely a glance over to the petit-fours that are, if overheard, ragged whispers are to be believed, “Just not quite right, Leliana. Stop laughing.”

“You have more reason to celebrate then the rest of us, madame Vivienne,” Josephine says now, the lights from the chandeliers dripping restored light through her hair and over her skin.

Vivienne smiles. “Perhaps. Things shall be frightfully busy.”

So say I to the one person here who has any right to protest her own workload. The thought is rueful, kept contained. If Josephine suppresses any sardonic looks, the effort does not show on her face.

People surge and swell around them, leaving drifts of conversation behind. Dagna stares at refracted light through a wineglass, leaning back against Sera, who stands with arms looped through the other woman’s and a softer expression on her face than Vivienne has ever seen. Her free hand tugs at a tablecloth, careful mountains of glassware creaking ominously as the fabric shifts. Leliana had ordered clear space along with tonight’s musicians in a fit of whimsy, and Varric and Cassandra are carefully not dancing. They stand close, shoulder pressed to arm, eyes anywhere but each other. Cullen attempts to blend in with one of the old armour sets against a far wall, and Vivienne wonders, for as much time as it takes for her to check his movement and swallow some of her drink, when the Templar stopped being the first person she noticed in any shared space.

The Inqusitor, patches of new-healed skin still showing raw across her cheeks and the backs of her hands under her wealth of light, has a hand resting on the ersatz Blackwall’s shoulder, lips pinched as he offers words Vivienne cannot quite pick out over the crush. They, she thinks, looking at the shape of Narsin's mouth, are speaking Orlesian.

Bull raises a tankard in her direction. Vivienne bites back a sigh.

“Madame?”

“Forgive me, darling. I find myself distracted. It is a lovely party.”

A tucked-up smile from the ambassador. “I should rescue the punch table from Sera. Please excuse me.”

“Good luck,” Vivienne says. “For my part, I—”

—Nasrin is heading toward the door, brushing off curious hands and thanks with increasing fervour the closer she comes to her destination. Her head is up, her colour high, and Vivienne almost laughs. It’s an old walk. The kind the marquise would have had tutors for, that Vivienne had learned from need.

Eyes front. Shoulders back. Move like the world cannot touch you, darling.

“A moment of your time, Inquisitor?”

She is smiling as she steps in front of Nasrin, the corners of her mouth aching from the effort of keeping things seemly. Nasrin startles at her voice, eyes widening.

“I thought—you said there were preparations,” she stammers, back resting against the doorway that leads from the great hall to her chambers.

“Honestly, my dear.” Easy to move a hand, let it brace on the stone just by Nasrin’s face. “These are preparations. And I would never miss your party.”

“I don’t think I could say the same.”

Vivienne laughs, eyes moving as Nasrin swallows. She wants to catch each tiny movement. “I know. Still, I would like a word.”

“I—of course.” Nasrin turns, still within the light cage made by Vivienne’s body, and the door opens under her hands. They both step through.

 “You have been avoiding me, my dear.”

Nasrin does not want to die. The effort of not dying over the past few months shows in every twinge of muscle, each curl of pain that ghosts the bones of her arms, her fingers and the back of her skull, the straight bones each leg. But she thinks she might, with Vivienne in her space, hands wrapped fast about her own as she draws Nasrin out into the balcony.

“I—”

“—I know why, marquise. And it is all right.”

Nasrin swallows. “Do you?” she asks. “Is it?”

“I was not fair to you, over the wyvern. The cure for my Bastien.” Pain flickers across her face, clear even though Nasrin is turned into the glare of the setting sun. “I would do everything again, of course,” she says. “But I am aware of—”

“—he is important to you,” Nasrin says. Not was. Importance does not care about bodies. She tugs at the ring she wears on a chain that hangs to the base of her throat. The thank you gift for dangerous alchemy that did not do its job. “I would always help. I—”

“—you care for me, darling,” Vivienne says. “A great deal.”

The floor is solid. Good stone. Old as gods. It shouldn’t be. “This is what you want to talk about?”

“You have made me Divine,” Vivienne says, head tilted to the side. “Not solely you, of course. But your influence has allowed me to find doors I did not know could be opened. As I’d hoped. And I have helped you a great deal, of course. Your own fear of magic is considerably—”

“—are you babbling, madame?”

“—I care. Very much.”

Nasrin has too much skin. Clothing rasps, and if she looks up, if she sees the small, soft smile that graces Vivienne’s face, she is unsure if she will ever breathe again. A whimper is caught up in her throat along with all her air.

Vivienne’s hands move to her cheeks, fingertips blooming cold as the anchor in Nasrin’s left hand flares in response to the small magic. Nasrin feels it trickling through her skin. Her lips part.

“Breathe, my dear,” Vivienne says, stern. “If you insist I must then you ought return in kind.”

Nasrin turns her face into the other woman’s touch, Her lower lip grazes a fingertip, sticking in a shock of pain as cold flares into heat. She gasps. Vivienne closes her eyes.

With an effort, Nasrin pulls back, unable to stop herself from running her tongue over her lower lip. “Why tell me now?” she asks.

“I have told you before,” says Vivienne. “But sometimes we deserve something explicit, don’t you think?”

Who can think?

Vivienne is not done. She reaches out again, one hand twining with Nasrin’s marked one. “Thanks to our efforts,” she says, “I am going to be exceptionally busy. But I did not want you to ever—I had a concern you might—” she breaks off. “You must never doubt me, Inquisitor.”

“Nasrin,” says Nasrin.

“Your pardon?”

“Please,” she whispers, and the sound is so much smaller than it should be that Nasrin is surprised it isn’t lost under the sound of her own heartbeat. “I am just my name, with you,” she says. She lifts her free hand, palm up. “And perhaps this?”

“Your right hand?”

“Yours,” Nasrin says. “If you are the next Divine.”

Slowly, Vivienne drops Nasrin’s left hand and reaches for the chain around her neck. She tugs. The metal snaps as she does, a small line of pain on Nasrin’s skin, but she does not move. She keeps staring up at the mage as she picks up the gold ring she had crafted with careful fingers.

Nasrin raises her right hand.

They are both silent as Vivienne slides the ring onto the forth finger there. Her eyes are intent as she lowers her head, and Nasrin swallows another gasp as Vivienne lets her lips drag across the knuckles. Acceptance and promise, understood in touch.

“Kiss me,” Vivienne says, voice fainter than Nasrin has ever heard. “Kiss me and seal it, Nasrin.”

For the rest of this ridiculous love story, you can read Marquise on AO3

[cherie-doll]

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: Missing You While They’re Away

✧˚ Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Alejandro, Phillip Graves, Keegan, König, Horangi

༉‧₊˚. (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

“Just one soft kiss is enough to move my heart. There was a time when our affection was deep, and reminiscing has made me realize how much I miss you.”

Ghost

This feeling is quite strange to him

He thought his heart would be at ease when you’ve said your goodbyes

Although he’s tried dismissing this feeling every day by reminding himself he’ll see you again

But he finds himself missing you; your touch, your comfort, your smell

A habit of his is hooking a leg over your body while in bed, that first morning he wakes up feeling empty because you’re not there

Your touch is like fire to his body that he seeks to warm his lonely nights

He yearns for it so much he cannot live without it

He would truly burn for you

Soap

Starts writing love letters to you like how Napoleon wrote for Josephine

He wakes up with you on his mind, his senses in a turmoil

Replaying the last evening and your intoxicating body scent that gives him such tranquility

Probably writes your name out a hundred times, drawling little hearts around it

If he finds a flower he’ll press it between the pages he sends you

When you send him something small of yours in return, insignificant to anyone else but an amulet to him

He wears it around his neck

Fiddling with it between his fingers

He’s prob the type to get one of those 18th century lover’s eye jewelry because to him it means having a clandestine declaration of your love

Gaz

That feeling that cannot be put into words

The feeling of walking on clouds that you have planted in his heart

He misses it so much

Your whisper with your soft smile

When he’s sitting alone he wishes he’d have you there next to him

Looking down at his hand, it feels empty, he knows exactly where your fingers intertwine with his

Your touch is so familiar to him that it feels unusual not to feel you

The words he longs to say, your name he wants to call out, the cherished place you have for him in your heart

He swears that when you reunite he’ll wrap his arms around your waist, pressing long and relentless kisses whilst murmuring “i missed you”

Alejandro

Man thinks about how he pressed lazy, slow kisses all over you, taking his sweet time memorizing your body

It’s the last thing he did right before he left

He asked for a kiss from you too before leaving, a real kiss

“Don’t be shy cariño”

He makes sure that you’ll miss him just as much as he’ll be missing you

The night before, he played slow, romantic music as he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses trailing down your back hoping that through his lips you would feel his heart that beats wildly for you

Now whenever the song plays both you and him have that sweet memory, soothing his mind but awakening his heart

Phillip Graves

He believes that being away from one another every once in a while is beneficial

While it is truly a vivid and pleasant sensation; being enamored, so ardently in love, being everything when together and nothing at all when apart

His mind revolves around you

Anything can serve as a reminder of your fond love

A gentle wind caressing his face is like your embracement

Amid the bustling, glimpses of your smile flash through his mind, a whisper of your voice in his crowded memories

Even if he can’t hold your form; in the night sky enfolded in his closed eyes remains a trace of thoughts that are meant only for you

In this world, only you and him exist and it becomes yours in a swirling glass

Parting his lips from the brim of the glass to savor the wine makes the second drink all the more delightful

Keegan

Groaning in frustration because he can’t bury his face into your neck first thing in the morning to inhale your scent as he’s used to, you’re like a fragrance so refined

Before leaving, he took your pillowcase and a sample of your preferred perfume

He sprays it all over himself before going to sleep so he may be drenched in your aroma

If he can’t be with you in that moment, he can only hope he’ll dream of you

He’s constantly placing candy that melts on his tongue, substituting your addictive taste

He’s come to memorize your body, scent, taste, and voice through his senses

Being deprived of just one of those things is torture to him

König

You don’t know how afraid he is of something happening to you while he’s gone, or something preventing him from ever seeing you again

Your existence alone is like a dream to him

Déjà vu of some perfect gaze

Risks are scary, yet it makes his heart flutter

Late at night, his fingertips trace his lips where you’d place loving kisses

He feels how empty his lap is when you’re not sitting on it

When he closes his eyes he remembers how you cup his face in your hands and dote on him

It wasn’t until that night that he felt more lost than ever before

Horangi

To him, it was enough knowing you were his reason to go on

That lively dynamic that is created when two universes collide

It filled his void with renewed purpose, and that in itself is enough to spur the other on

That spark that ignites when you brush skin against skin, he craves it so deeply

A hunger that stirs from his loins

How your lips feel like velvet grazing his skin, your tongue dripping with honey

The intoxicating expressions of affection he wishes to give and receive

He secures these thoughts in the back of his mind, knowing he’ll act upon them when he’s with you again

[lavellansvh3nan]

A Letter From Dorian Pavus to Inquisitor Lavellan

//OOC//: First and foremost, thank you so much to everyone who has read and engaged with the first two letters! It’s a blast to write these two, so stay tuned. Creativity willing, I’d love to write more than just letters, maybe something long form. But one step at a time haha. For now, enjoy!

Foolish Elliana,

If you think for even one moment I’m going to just let all this go, you’ve clearly been damaged in your trip through the Fade. I suppose it was bound to happen, between the Anchor, the first trip through the Fade, and declaring your love for a half-mad asshole. So disappointing, truly. Here I’d hoped all our years together would provide the chance for my greatness to rub off on you.

You’ve been in contact with Morrigan, then. You know how quickly things are moving here in the real world while you play pretend with the spirits. Minrathos is receiving reinforcements from Treviso and Rivain. Josephine has written as well, she believes she can convince Ferelden to send aid as well, though I’ll believe it when I see it.

The powers that be are scrambling, but the defeat of their so-called god has scattered the majority of occupying forces. If the Shadow Dragons push the offensive, there is a chance they might be free from occupation. Another day in the fabulously exciting life of yours truly.

You repeated several times in your previous letter that you love me, and dear, I know. I’m a rare breed, literally. It’s only natural. But that being said, apparently not loved enough for you to stay. Not that I need you around anyways.

Though, you guess correctly. I am most curious about your little love triangle. Don’t deny it— I heard from Rook that Mythal was of precious importance to that prick. Morrigan says she lives on in her: can we expect a jealous duel to the death between you and the Witch of the Wood? Please tell me I can, liberating a country and saving the world really isn’t as interesting as that sounds.

*there are several attempts to start a new sentence, all scribbled over in frustration*

You are alright, aren’t you? He did choose you, right? I know you’ve waited ten years but no love is worth being the other woman for. Especially to a millennia old spirit queen. Or whatever she was. As cross with you as I am, you have better features than her. Hopefully your “vhenan” sees that. For all his self-proclaimed wisdom, he is fucking blind.

By the by, where are you in the Fade? Just…wandering around? Camping with welcoming spirits? Sleeping under the stars? I am curious where a pair of recently reunited lovers goes to, fuck reunite, so to speak, in the Fade. Please tell me you aren’t sleeping in Fade dust.

Not to make this about me, though we both know it should be, Iron Bull has been acting…strange. Or, stranger than usual. Don’t jest, I can practically hear you snorting.

He gave me something the other day. Half a dragon tooth. Just came up to me while I had a rare moment of peace and slammed it on the table I was eating at. Insisted he wanted me to start wearing it and now wherever I go, he goes.

What have I gotten myself in to? Is he moving in? Is this a marriage proposal? If you were here I could navigate all of my questions to you. You owe me after eight years of your longing babble.

I will expect your prompt reply. If you’re going to abandon me with all these problems, you might as well attempt to provide me some entertainment.

*several more sentences are hastily scribbled out*

I miss you. You fucking fool. Write soon.

With continued disappointment and love,

Dorian

[sparklingcid3r]

this is kind of a weird q but i was reading ur hc about the curtis parents and thought it was vv good! what do you think each of the brothers miss specifically about their parents (besides like their literal presense lol)? also what do you think their mom and dad thought was special about the  individual traits of each of their sons and were most excited/worried about for each of their futures?

Ty I’m glad u liked them!! I love doing those kinds of posts, they get my thoughts going so good

This was also suchhh a good ask I was sitting on it for a while just thinking about it it was so good

Starting with Pony, I think that he misses his father’s reassurance the most. Since Darrel Sr. and Soda were two very similar people and Soda was very sensitive to Pony’s interests and personality, in my head Pony was really close with his dad as well. Darrel Sr. was a big reader, same as Pony, and his dad was the first person Pony went to in order to rant and rave about the book he just finished. Some nights would just be them picking up a book and sitting on the couch, Pony leaning his head against his dad’s chest while he read quietly, putting on different voices for each character. Darrel Sr. encouraged him to pick apart what he didn’t like and construct the story over again, setting the foundation for his writing ability later on.

Onto Soda, I think he misses his parents’ cooking. On the weekends, he took for granted getting to wake up to the smell of greasy eggs and bacon and, whenever his dad was in the mood, pancakes. The sound of a sizzling frying pan and Darrel Sr. banging the top of the syrup bottle against the counter to get it open. Josephine (Mrs. Curtis) would let out a long, high whistle to get the boys downstairs, but she rarely needed to do it on those days. They were fighting to get down the stairs first. Darrel Sr. would sneak chocolate chips into some of the pancakes and they were always flipping the plate over trying to stab them all on their forks first. Josephine always knew how each boy liked his eggs and made sure to put lots of cheese on Soda’s scrambled eggs, and she always snuck him her pieces of bacon that she didn’t want. The kitchen hasn’t smelled like that in a long time.

Darry misses his mom like he lost half his soul. Not only was he the firstborn, he was most similar to his mother, so their bond was special. She kept him on the straight and narrow when the world got just a little too loud with all the yelling and fights and rodeos, was always the first person he went to when he didn’t know what to do. Josephine was there his whole life, sitting at the end of his bed when he was younger, telling him to be quiet on Christmas Eve so he could hear the reindeer land on the roof, reading him excerpts of her favorite books. She was the one who told him he would be the first Curtis to get to college. When the winter comes around and the smell of Christmas and peppermints and sour apples are in the air, he can feel his mom’s arm around his shoulder and suddenly he’s fourteen and about to start his first day at Will Rogers again, and she’s telling him he’s going to leave them all in his dust soon. Even though their deaths are the reason he is where he is, he’s glad Josephine isn’t there to see him now, failing his brothers, himself, and her.

We’re gonna go in reverse for the second part and combine it a little bit- you’ll see what i mean ;)

Josephine and Darrel Sr. were very confident in Darry’s future. They knew he had drive, ambition, and the discipline to go wherever he wanted in life, so they weren’t worried about the destination, only the journey. They worried that Darry might lose himself on the way, that he would forget about his roots and how they shaped him just as much as his own desires did.

When it came to Soda, they were in love with and terrified by the way he couldn’t help but wear his heart on his sleeve. They knew that boy was going to get his heart broken a million times before finding the girl who would treat him right, but they feared he would break down before he got there and settle for fine when he deserved great. He was a small town soul from the get go, it wasn’t lavish living he craved, but comfort, and all they could do for him was hope he’d find it.

And Pony, they feared how the world would welcome him. He saw things differently than anyone else on the East Side. He liked books and movies and nature and the abstract, and they wanted him to be able to foster those passions without any fear of rejection or mockery. They didn’t want him to have his light snuffed out before it had even become a spark, to give in to the violence that kept going in circles on their side of the tracks.

i think we girlbossed a little too close to the sun w this one, i didn’t think it would get this long😭🙏

[imjustwritingg]

Other than wanting to wrap Hailey in cotton wool and give her the biggest hug, how are you feeling/what are your thoughts after last nights episode?

This turned into an unofficial review of sorts and it got rather long, so I’ll post it all below the cut for those that want to read my thoughts.

I might be in the minority here, but I really enjoyed the episode. I kinda loved it actually, and it might be one of my favorite episodes. I enjoyed everything about it…the writing, the directing, the acting.

Gwen Sigan wrote the episode, but I gotta give her credit where it’s due because it was pretty damn good in my book. It reminded me a lot of her writing days prior to her becoming show-runner and I miss those days so very much.

I think the tidbits of Hailey’s past are coming way too late, but I still really enjoyed getting to peek into her life a bit more. Just wish we could have gotten more of it along the way and not three episodes before the character is gone.

I loved Kevin’s blatant callout to Hailey in the first minute of the episode of how she’s dealing and if running is helping her. He asks this question of “how are you doing…really doing?” with no words and just one look, and then we’re given the answer by Hailey deflecting and avoiding yet again under the guise of wanting a sugar fix. I think that was brilliant. It conveyed everything you needed to know about Hailey’s mental state in one short moment.

No Voight in the episode was such a gift.

Hailey being in charge and leading this particular case was the right move and she handled it so well. I’m bummed we probably won’t see her leading her own unit someday.

Also back to the no Voight thing just for a moment to say that it’s interesting to see how the dynamic shifted with the team versus him not being around and Hailey being in charge. The team felt lighter to me, like in the sense that they weren’t on edge, walking on eggshells in a way. Everything just felt calmer. There was still an intensity and an urgency to solve the case, but rules were followed, there was no off the book cowboy bullshit, and it felt like everyone followed Hailey and trusted her, whereas with Voight they were obeying orders that were barked out to them. I don’t know. It just felt really different and so very satisfying to me.

I love Kevin and Kim’s ability to communicate with one another with just one look between them. Makes me think of the early days of them being partners and being on patrol. They still work so wonderfully together.

This case was sick. A mother doing that to her own child is demented. Where these writers, and Gwen specifically, come up with these ideas is beyond me, but someone should probably do a wellness check on her. Like girly needs some serious therapy and R&R.

Josephine Petrovic. I had some hesitation with her at first as you usually do with a new character as you try and suss them out, but I’ve gotta say, I like her. I like her and I hate that I like her and I hate that she only just came onto the show because I would love to see what happens with her if she were to stick around, but I can’t watch this show without Tracy or Jesse — mostly Tracy — but neither of them? I just can’t do it. I have some other thoughts on Jo, but I will save them for another ask I received.

I obviously saved the elephant in the room for last…Jay. I really don’t think the mentions and nods to him in this episode were “bad” in any way because it’s stuff that has already been said about the character…Gwen’s version of him at least, but I do think there is a reason why he is being brought up and why there are so many nods to the marriage. Hailey insisted she wasn’t angry with him in the premiere. She signed the divorce papers, sent them off, and that was that and she washed her hands of him. Except she didn’t. Because she is angry, she hasn’t moved on in the year and a half he’s been gone now, signing the papers didn’t give her any closure…hell, even him signing the papers didn’t give her any closure, (I will die on the hill that he only signed them because it’s what he thought she wanted). I personally do not think she will get any closure whatsoever if she doesn’t have a conversation with him, if she doesn’t confront him and all of it head on…the anger and resentment and confusion and the love that is still there. You can’t turn that shit off. You can’t just push it away and be like, “okay, I’m done with you now, goodbye.” Life doesn’t work that way. Emotions don’t work that way. Grief sure as shit doesn’t work that way, and I feel like that is the stage Hailey is stuck in right now. Grieving the loss of Jay and her marriage and stuck in a limbo that she doesn’t know how to navigate on her own while dealing with childhood trauma that she actually isn’t really dealing with at all. And she is without a doubt on her own. That is the one thing that has been made clear this season. She has no family, not any friends other than co-workers, and right now, she doesn’t have Jay. I respect the “independent woman, gonna stand on my own, I don’t need anyone” mindset, but I don’t agree with how we got here and I also don’t fully agree with the notion that she doesn’t need anyone because everyone needs someone. You can’t do life alone. You need someone in your corner, someone by your side, someone who gets you in ways you don’t even know yourself, and for Hailey, that person is and will always be Jay Halstead. I think she will realize she needs to get out of Chicago like her brothers, like Jay, like Will, and I hope that wherever she ends up, Jay is there waiting for her and the two of them can just start over without Chicago and their past looming over them like a dark cloud. And for the love of God, let them both go to therapy…together and separately.

Brenna Malloy directed and it was just…perfect. True cinema if you will. The close-ups of the actors’ faces during certain scenes and how the camera would pan to them at just the exact right moment for a reaction, the no background noise and intentional pauses during scenes that allowed moments to feel heavier and more real, the ending shot of Hailey and her teary eyes…I feel like it was a story that was so delicately handled and crafted by Brenna, and I’m just really impressed.

Tracy Spiridakos. I mean, what more even needs to be said? The woman is a powerhouse. It always amazes me knowing how much of a goof she is on set and then you watch an episode like this and it’s just like…WOW. Her range of emotion and the way she makes you feel every single one of those emotions is truly something that needs to be studied. You cry with her, you smile with her, you laugh with her, but the biggest thing is you feel for her character, and I think that is something that not all actors are capable of doing with an audience. Tracy knocks it out of the park, across the highway, into the next town every time, and her execution is consistent every time as well. No one is doing it like her, and I love and respect the hell out of that woman and her talent.

I think the same also needs to be said for Bojana Novakovic. I have been surprisingly impressed by her and kind of adore her. I’ve really been enjoying the character of Josephine Petrovic and I hate that she’s only coming into the show now right when Tracy is walking out the door because Bojana alone is incredible, but her and Tracy together? It’s like magic to me. Their chemistry as scene partners and the way they bounce off each other is absolutely insane, and then their ability to pull you in and keep you locked in…ooof. I think it’s something special and I’ve really enjoyed seeing them together on-screen.

As for how I feel…

I feel good? Okay? The episode didn’t do much for me in the grand scheme of “what is Hailey gonna do” or “what’s gonna happen” because we already anticipated her leaving Chicago. That wasn’t ever in question. But the actual reason for Hailey leaving is still muddled to me, even more so because she hasn’t resolved anything in her life. She still has these demons, a past filled with trauma she hasn’t found peace with, she has no closure with Jay, she has questions and zero answers, and she is already and literally running from her problems.

So, is she supposed to leave Chicago and start over somewhere and her problems are just gonna go poof? Magically disappear? Because that’s not how that works, and I think that would be yet another injustice to the character and more lazy writing. I do think the episode (finally!) laid the groundwork for Tracy’s exit, but it should have started in episode 1, not 10. Tracy gave them an entire season to wrap up Hailey’s story, and I feel like they wasted so much time and it’s gonna be another rushed exit once the curtain falls. It’s not that I’m surprised in that regard, but I am disappointed (again!) especially considering how much of a fuss Gwen made about “it’s so generous of Tracy to give us a whole season.”

If Gwen’s plan was to make Hailey’s exit about her family and her childhood trauma then the seed should have been planted long before now, and Jay shouldn’t still be a sore subject for her. I think we’re in for a really emotional ending to the season, not just for Hailey, but for the first time since season eight I’m actually looking forward to a finale again.

In conclusion and a very long story short…I loved the episode, but Gwen Sigan is still on my shit list.

[broodwolf221]

Cassandra/Varric for "tasting their smile"?

oh, thank you for this! what a fun prompt for a beloved ship ❤️ post-trespasser! @dadrunkwriting 564 words cws: none

She was rebuilding the Seekers. He was journeying to find Solas. This was the way of things, she told herself.

She wouldn't miss him, she told herself.

She did not make a good liar.

The work was demanding, and that provided a real distraction. Some of the rebuilding was literal, as they repaired dilapidated buildings, and Cassandra learned the heft of a hammer instead of the lean weight of a sword. Labor made the days pass quickly, without too many opportunities to miss anything. Or anyone.

It was not as if Varric was the only person she missed. The entire Inquisition had become important to her. Even those she felt she'd never learn to trust — Cole, Sera, Vivienne to a lesser degree — she had found herself missing. Part of it, she knew, was how straightforward everything had been. As great of a challenge as it had all been, their goals were clear, their action necessary. Now, here, it was all about figuring out a new path. Not just for herself, but for the Seekers.

She missed the clarity of the Inquisition.

The Inquisition would never return. Nor should it. As much as she had been driven to form it, she did not want a world where it was necessary. Their Inquisitor had chosen to dissolve the formal organization, and although she had been surprised and disturbed at the time, Cassandra had grown to understand the other woman's decision.

She would never have her role back. Her clear responsibilities. But that was not to say all from that time was gone forever.

She visited Cullen often. Wrote to Josephine. She suspected she'd have seen more of Leliana, were she not the Divine, but as it was they still spoke when they could and wrote when they could not, and Leliana continued to welcome her advice, even if she did not often take it.

It had been a long time since she'd seen Varric, though. Things had only just begun with them when he left. They'd argued, but she understood… she just hadn't wanted to lose him, too.

They didn't write. She'd like to, as would he, but the work he was doing did not exactly come with a fixed location. Leliana sent her reports with the quiet care of a friend, sometimes adding a few words in her own hand. He'll be fine, she had noted in the last one.

Cassandra knew the risks he took. She knew. There was no guarantee.

Still, she appreciated the gesture.

She was returning to the small room she had taken as her own. It was plain and comfortable, spare enough that it took only moments to clean, and never reminded her of the delicate wealth of her childhood. It was plain and functional. Just the way she liked it.

It was also, she realized as she opened the door, occupied.

"Seeker," he said with a grin, "I didn't know things were so grim. Next time I'm in Minrathous, I'll pick up a nice rug for you or something—"

Sense came only after surprise faded, and action followed fast on its heels. His grin widened as she rushed forward, a knee up on the bed as she bent down to kiss him.

She had many questions, but they could wait. Right now, she needed this. Needed to feel him, to kiss him, to taste his sweet smile once more.

[aheathen-conceivably]

Violette, Josephine, and Giorgio spent the rest of the afternoon surveying the meager commercial offerings of Strangerville. They looked into every shop window and meandered down each street, showing their new home to Violette and enjoying one another’s company.

As the sun began to tilt ever closer to the tops of the red rocks, Violette started to grow visibly tired, so Giorgio led them to his farmhouse at the edge of town. As they drew closer, Violette’s steps continued to slow, so Gio picked her up to carry her the rest of the way as she dozed off on his shoulder.

As they approached the house, they spotted Antoine on the porch, smoking a cigarette and surveying the surrounding desert. Violette seemed to sense his presence and her eyes sprung open, insisting on being put down so she could sprint toward him. He immediately kneeled down into the sand to pull her into a hug, “Well now Miss Violette, I do believe I’ve found your room. Would you like to go and see if it’s up to your standards?”

She shook her head in giddy agreement and Antoine threw Gio one last thankful look before he picked up Violette to carry her inside.

Now alone with Giorgio for the first time since she arrived, Jo’s eyes began to linger on the peeling sideboards and sheet metal roofs shivering in the hot sun. Giorgio looked down at her hopefully, and she returned his gaze with a lifted eyebrow, no need to convey her trepidations with much else. Gio offered her his hand and led her across the porch, through the yard, and to the smaller home where he had been living. 

They stopped at the front door, and Gio turned back to her, “Listen, Jo, I hold no illusions that this is the home you want, but ever since I received Antoine’s letter I’ve done nothing but try and make it comfortable for you.”

She knew that now wasn’t the time for judgment, for fear or regret. So she gave him a small nod and he opened the door to the cabin, which smelled of strong alcohol and sunbaked wood.

They entered straight into the living room, where she tried not to notice the cracks on the walls or the thinning lace curtains. Gio kept her hand firmly in his as he led her to the bedroom door. As he opened it, Josephine realized with a jolt that it even shabbier than the previous room; one whole wall was covered in nothing but newspaper, and the patches elsewhere told her that one day the rest would be as well.

To the right was a corner already set with some of her belongings and the drawing of her mother that she had mailed in a carefully wrapped package weeks before. She let go of his hand and walked toward it, running her hand along the nearby vanity, which had already been lovingly arranged with her jewelry, new magazines, and a fresh flower.

He watched her hand move along the weathered wood, but stayed distant as he spoke, giving her space to take in the room on her own, “I restored it for you, Jo. I never thought I could, honestly, but there isn’t shit to do here but drink or work. So I found it, torn to shreds and thrown on the side of the road, and restored it for you, just hoping that you’d write, that you’d be here one day to use it.”

His expression was so earnest that it almost pained her to look at, even in the reflection of the mirror. He made no effort to hide his worry and pain or the flashes of desperate happiness that she was standing there at all, bedecked in pearls and makeup amidst the crumbling walls and stained carpets. It was impossible not to see the best of him in that moment, to remember all of the kindness and love that he had shown her while she withheld so much from him.

She let her hand linger on the dresser for a moment more before she went to him. He immediately threw his arms around her and she felt his entire body relax in relief. As he brought his lips to her neck and hands to the buttons of her shirt, she closed her eyes; still through shut lids she could see the room around them.

No regrets, Jo. You told yourself no regrets. Just don’t look back. Never look back.

[blakelysco-pilot]

This Is Always

From the Love Letter Series

Robert “Rosie” Rosenthal x Josephine Harris (OFC)

The holidays are usually a time to be spent together, cold noses warmed by the fire, and joyful cheers as the New Year approaches. This year, Rosie is struggling with being away from Jo, and acknowledging the future that he dreams of sharing with her. A heart to heart with Crosby helps put things into perspective for both of them.

Read Part 3 Here Follow along with the Love Letters Playlist

January 1944

My Dearest Jo,

Happy New Year, honey pie! It’s just after midnight here, and though I wanted to be the first person to wish you a Happy New Year, I know that by the time you get this, it will be after the fact. I guess by writing this now, while it’s still ‘43 back home, I’m letting myself be greedy in being the first to send you those wishes. I hope you’re doing something fun tonight, and getting all dolled up to paint the town red. Your last letter came just after Christmas, but I would be remiss if I didn’t tell you just how happy it made me to hear that you were still doing all of your usual Christmas favorites, even if I’m not home to carry all your shopping bags back to Brooklyn after a full day in the city. Believe me, I even miss doing that, no matter how heavy some of them are. 

I got Ma’s last letter just a few days before yours arrived, and she mentioned that you went by the house to celebrate Hanukkah with her and Jeanie. I know that made her really happy, and I can’t thank you enough for keeping an extra eye on both of them for me while I’m stuck over here. My sister would argue that she doesn’t need anyone keeping an eye on her, but I’m sure she appreciates your company, and will rub it in my face after the fact that she got to spend so much time with you. That’s what little sisters do, isn’t it? 

We had a small thing in the Officers Club for the holidays; nothing too fancy, but there was music, and some good liquor that someone managed to scrounge up for the occasion. The Red Cross Clubmobile girls pulled some resources and, even with rationing, managed to bake a few cookies for us. They were good, but they couldn't hold a candle to yours. 

I have never wanted one of your Christmas cookies more than after reading your letter, and to know that Jean Crosby took over as the official taste tester this year; oh it broke my heart darling. But, I’m glad to know that you two girls are keeping each other company, and I know that Croz is happy knowing that she’s not alone. I do hope you two aren’t causing too much trouble while we’re away. Knowing you the way that I do, I know that’s a bit of a pipe dream, but one of the reasons I adore you the way that I do. 

At the risk of sounding melancholy, I’ve spent most of today wishing I could take you dancing; spin you around until we’re both dizzy, until finally we can ring in the new year with champagne. Crowded on the dance floor at Minton’s, wrapped up in each other. Maybe it’s bold of me to ask, or maybe it’s the whiskey, but would you have allowed me a midnight kiss, Jo? I can’t picture kissing anyone else as the clock strikes twelve, nor do I want to, on this holiday or any other day. I hope that by next year, we'll be able to spend the evening together, and not have to send holiday wishes in letters that take too long to get there. 

I dream of you every night, sweetheart, and every night these sweet dreams end with a kiss before I’m pulled back to reality. I’ve been dreaming of the future, and if the real thing is anything like my dreams, I can’t wait for those days to begin. I wonder,do you dream of those days too? Of building a home together, a life that’s just ours. Living in the city, maybe somewhere near Harry and Jean. We could go to the pictures on Friday nights, and sleep in on Saturday’s, warm under the blankets until we peel ourselves from the sheets only because we need to make coffee. I’d spin you around the kitchen while we made breakfast, a record on the Victrola, the two of us tangled together while the eggs burned. The more I think about it, the more it all sounds like a dream come true. 

Maybe it is the whiskey talking, but it’s getting late here. Or early depending on how you look at it, and even though we aren’t flying tomorrow, I’m sure the rest of the fellas will be returning from the Officers Club soon enough. I’ll be dreaming of you tonight, sweetheart, and counting the days until we’re together again. 

Sending you millions of hugs and kisses, and all of my love. 

Yours for always

Robbie

Rosie took a deep breath, and without giving himself a chance to second guess anything in his letter, folded it up and slid it inside the envelope. He’d address it in the morning and drop it off at APO so that it went out with the next mail call; tonight it would remain on the nightstand next to his bed, with Jo’s photo. He was still in his uniform, not having bothered changing after he returned to the Officer’s hut, and was about to take advantage of the empty shower stall, when the door swung open and Harry walked in.

“Thought I’d find you in here.” Harry spoke, hand coming up to loosen his tie. 

“Yea, I uh, wanted to get a letter out to Jo,” Rosie signed, dragging his hand down his face. ‘Or at the very least, written.”

“It’s rough around the holidays isn’t it.” It wasn’t a question. Harry knew as well as he did, and he knew his friend was giving him an opening to get his feelings off his chest. 

“Probably the most difficult part of all this. We’ve spent every Christmas and Hanukkah together since we met.”

“She celebrates Hanukkah with you and your mom?”

“Jo is the best gift giver in our family, according to my sister.” Rosie grinned. 

“Sounds like your sister will be the disappointed one if you don’t put a ring on Jo’s finger when we get home.” Harry chuckled, dropping down onto his own bed, across from Rosie’s.

“She’d have to fight my Ma for the top spot, if I don’t marry Jo.” 

The two shared a quiet moment  as their thoughts drifted to a place far from England. Far from flak and casualties and torn fuselages. No thoughts of missing friends, mission counts or that damned red light never blinking off. 

Rosie knew that Harry understood better than anyone; how it felt to be so devoted to someone, and yet, he felt compelled to ask the one question that, if he had to wager, everyone asks at some point. 

“How’d you know Jean was the one?” He asked after a moment, gaze turned upward to meet that of his friend. 

“She wanted nothing to do with me when we met,” Harry balked so loudly that it seemed to echo off the walls of the Nissen Hut. “But I knew. I didn’t want to spend another day without her.”

“Just like that, huh?”

“Oh yeah, you just know,” Harry nodded. “When did you know Jo was the one? And don’t tell me you didn’t…”

“Let’s just say I should have opened my mouth a long time ago.”

“Well, better late than never.”

“What if I was too late, Croz?”

Harry stood from his bed, moving around the front to lean himself against the footboard. With a determined gaze, he made sure he had Rosie’s full attention before saying what was on his mind. 

“You can’t think like that. You need to believe you’re going home to her, that you two will have a life after all this.”

“God, I hope so.”

“I don’t know Jo as well as you do,” He started. “I only know what Jean tells me in her letters, but it sounds to me like she’s really something. And I’m not just saying that because she went out of her way to befriend my wife.”

“I told her I want a life with her, a future, our own place, Saturday mornings in bed, lazy days…”

“You want the dream.” Harry nodded in understanding. 

“Told her maybe we’d move to the city, leave Brooklyn, get a place near you and Jean.”

“Sounds like we’ll be in trouble if that happens, Jo and Jean a stone's throw away from each other?”

“I think the two of us are going to have our hands full when we get home, Croz.”

“I bet they’re saying the same thing about us,” Harry laughed. “And I wouldn’t blame Jean. I’ve been a real handful as of late.”

“Oh yea, you’re causing lots of trouble all the way over here.” Rosie chuckled, propping his legs up on the bed, feet hanging off the edge so as to not dirty the sheets. He didn’t miss the slight look of distress that flashed across his friend's face. 

He regarded him carefully; he looked like he had something on the tip of his tongue. His face looked worried, like he had something weighing him down exponentially, and Rosie would allow his friend the moment if he needed it. After all, it was the holiday’s and they were the best source of camaraderie that they had; friends should be there for each other. No one understood that better than he did. 

“No, I’ve been a handful…” Harry finally continued. 

“Croz?”

“Remember after Munster? When Harding sent me to Oxford?”

“Yea…”

“They double you up when you’re at those conferences, and my roommate, she-”

“Ah jeez, Croz…”

Harry sighed, dropping his head, too ashamed to look his friend in the eye. The moment had turned in the blink of an eye, and he wasn’t sure how to handle it, or get his friend through it. But he’d be damned if he didn’t try. 

“I don’t know how to tell Jean.”

“Is this why you kept disappearing up to London? To see her?”

“How do I tell my wife that I slept with another woman?”

“You just do, Croz.”

“That’s the worst possible thing to write in a letter. ‘Honey, I miss you terribly, by the way…’”

“Alright, I see your point. But you need to tell her.”

“This fucking war,” Harry sighed. “I swear, it peels the humanity right from your bones.”

“Then you fight it.”

“More than we already have? More than what we’ve given and lost?”

Rosie knew he was referring to Bubbles, and for a moment he let his mind wander to Nash, and that first mission to Bremen. It would be easy to fold; to pack it up and let the fight take from you more and more. But he would be damned if he’d let it take more from him, and if he had to fight a little extra to make sure it didn’t take any more from his friend, he’d do that too. 

“You’re not fighting it alone, Croz.”

“Feels like it most of the time.”

“And you’re fighting for something back home, even if you feel like you don’t deserve it at the moment.”

“I don't deserve her.” 

“Yea, you do. And you’ll tell her everything, whether you write it, or tell her when we get home. And Jo and I will be there for you both.”

Harry looked like he was about to respond when the door to the Officers Hut swung open. He turned, half expecting a replacement officer, but was surprised to see Blakely and Douglass, the former with a cigarette tucked behind his ear, and Douglass swinging a bottle of something in his left hand. 

“Nightcap, fellas?” Douglass lifted the bottle, and Rosie could just make out the label. Vat 69. 

“Where the hell did you get that, Dougie?” Harry’s eyes went wide at the familiar label from back home. A very expensive label. 

“Been saving it, so come on, let’s have a drink.”

“No, seriously, who’d you steal that from?” Rosie asked, watching as Blakely gathered four of the glasses the boys kept on their side tables for brushing their teeth. 

“I won it in a bet, if you must know.” Douglass grinned, pulling the wax seal from the neck of the bottle before pulling the cork out.

“The details are not of importance,” Blakely chimed in, swatting Rosie’s legs off the bed to take up the space next to him. “What is important is that we’re here, and alive, so stop asking questions and have a drink would ya?”

Douglass poured for the four of them, dropping himself down on the bed next to Rosie’s, while waiting for Harry to join them. 

“Any day now, Croz…” he groaned, glass between two fingers as he held it out for the navigator. “It’ll be ‘45 by the time you move.”

“Dougie… fuck off.” Harry stood with a laugh, brushing off his slacks before snatching the glass and taking the seat next to him. “And anyway, we’d all better be home by ‘45.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Blakely nodded, holding his glass up to cheers his friends, the only ones left that weren’t replacement crews, or trapped somewhere in the Stalag. 

The foursome sat silently as they sipped their prize whiskey, thoughts turned presumably to home and memories of Christmas and New Years’ spent with people they loved and missed. 

“Alright, what would you be doing if you were home right now?” Ev broke the silence, leaning his elbows on his knees, gaze landing on Harry. 

“His wife, dumbass.” Douglass chuckled. 

“Woah hey, none of that.” Rosie looked between the two, the rules immediately being put into place without having to say them. 

They didn’t talk like that, but he assumed it had been a bit too much whiskey already for Douglass, and with there no mission on the horizon for tomorrow, their guards were all down a bit. 

“Right, right, sorry Croz,” Douglass held his hands up in apology. “For real, what would you and Jean be doing if you were home?”

“We’d go out for dinner, but I think we’d probably be home for the bells,” he closed his eyes wistfully, and Rosie knew his friend was simply hoping that he’d be able to do that next year. “Dance in the living room, and yea, off to bed.”

Blakely nodded, reaching across to drop his hand to Crosby’s knee in a gesture of good faith, that he felt for him in a way, and was hoping he’d get that moment sooner rather than later. 

“What about you?” Ev turned to his right, finding Rosie sitting quietly. 

“What about me?” Rosie brought the glass to his lips, taking a small sip and letting the taste linger on his tongue a moment. 

“Would you and Josephine be out on the town?” Douglass asked, gesturing to the photo on Rosie’s side table. 

“Oh yea, we’d be at Minton’s, dancing until they kicked us out I’m sure.” Rosie laughed. 

“Together at the club then?”

“Every year we go dancing on New Years,” Rosie started. “Christmas and Hanukkah are for family, New Years is for friends.”

“She’s more than a friend.” Harry looked at him pointedly. 

“She is, and a fella can dream that she’ll say yes when I get home.”

Blakely, who had been pulling the cigarette from behind his ear to light it, fumbled, dropping it to the ground at Rosie’s confession. 

“You got a ring?!”

“No, but, that’s my second order of business once I’m back stateside.”

“And the first?”

“To kiss the hell out of her.” Rosie confessed. 

“Good man.” Blakely slapped him on the shoulder, a smile on his face. 

It was absolutely the whiskey talking this time, but he was among friends. The trust was insurmountable. Between the confessions that had taken place before Ev and Dougie had joined them, and the warmth flowing through his veins, Rosie lifted the glass to his lips to drain it, before standing from his place on the bed. Swiping the envelope from earlier, and a clean sheet of paper from the table, he glanced at his friends with a grin, and offered a two fingered salute. 

“Gentlemen, I’ll be back.”

“Where are you going! We still have more whiskey!” Douglass hollered after him. 

“Save it for another occasion!” Rosie called back as he pushed through the doors and out into the chilly January air. 

He walked until he found a spot under one of the lamp posts, the bench undoubtedly cold as he sat down, but he wouldn’t be out here for long. Just enough time, and privacy, to get the thoughts swarming around in his head out on the page before he lost his nerve. 

Pulling his pen from his breast pocket, he carefully let the paper rest on his thigh before he began scrawling his extra note. 

Hi Sweetheart, 

I know this is coming with no context but, I want you to know how much I adore you. I know I’ve said it in different ways, and a few times by now, but, I mean it. Truly, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’m sorry it took me so long to say it. And to say it from thousands of miles away, with a war on no less. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to hit me once I’m back home. 

Just know that I’ll always, always, carry your heart with the most careful of hands. I’ll keep you safe, and treasure every moment we have together. Anything you want, it’s yours, Jo. A quiet life together, or a herd of children that jump on the bed on Sunday mornings. I’ll make sure you have it honey. 

Just know, I’m yours for however long you’ll have me, Josephine. I’m hoping for forever, but that’s a question for another day. 

I love you,

Robbie 

Read part 5 Here

A/N: Thanks for reading! This series will continue for Rosie & Jo, so if you enjoyed this, please like, comment, reblog- whichever is your poison. Feedback is always welcome & my ask box is always open. If you want to be added to my tag list, or removed, let me know!

Tag List: @rowdy-redhead @winniemaywebber @sagesolsticewrites @rosiesriveter @bobparkhurst @victoryrollsandredlips @bcolfanfic @major-mads @footprintsinthesxnd @basilone @roosevelt-stalin-cocacola @justheretoreadthxxs @claireelizabeth85 @hephaestn @ktredshoes @barrykeoghussy @peachessndreamss @hellfirequinnie

[inquisimer]

2024 writing round up

bringing back this year-end writing review because I'm a stats nerd and it's always fun to be surprised by how much the time and effort and works add up over time! tagging forward (to some new people - you're always free to ignore or let me know if you don't want to be tagged in things <3) if you'd like to join in: @soupandsorcery | @brightaxe | @glitteringdust | @crabs-with-sticks | @dustdeepsea | and an open invitation to anyone who sees this and would like to do it - tag me so we can celebrate all we've done this year!

words posted: 160,320

additional words written: 46,038

grand total of words: 206,358

fandoms: dragon age. and dragon age. oh, and also dragon age 😂

highest kudos: to feel the sun from both sides at 166 - a missing "what are we even doing right now" scene from the Rook x Lucanis romance <3

highest hit oneshot: I pick my poison (and it's you) at 1515 - yeah, no surprises here, it's the porn 😂 Arlow and Lucanis fuck on the rooftops in Treviso and I pretend there's a plot by drawing a line between the purple lanterns and Spite's wings.

new things I tried: writing (and finishing) a smut piece! that's been on my want-to-do list for a while, so that feels good to accomplish. I also wrote and posted my first polyship works this year!

fic I spent the most time on: the very condition of existence, my fic for @thedragonagebigbang! Female Mahariel/Anora, a childhood friends to strangers to lovers AU where Mahariel & Anora meet as children in the forest outside Gwaren and are reunited years later during the Landsmeet.

fic I spent the least time on: this one is always hard for me to gauge, but probably either softness did not serve me or spit your blood and bare your teeth, two of the pieces I wrote about Nika Brosca's history with the Carta for Febuwhump (mind the tags)

favorite thing I wrote: of my completed works, knee deep without a plea - Lucanis' POV of the weeks Rook spends in the Fade prison! I am really proud of the details I worked into this one for Lucanis and Spite, and the emotions across all of the characters. Honorable mention to before you can kill the monster (you have to say its name) - my WIP rewrite of the end of Davrin's personal arc, incorporating more of the nuance from Isseya's character in Last Flight, and filling in the gaps between the end of the novel and where Veilguard picks up. I'm really proud of the first chapters, and of where my outline is going, but I don't think I can put it at the top of my favorites until it's fully realized

favorite thing(s) I read:

there is no god but they'll kill you for him by tenderest (@/tendertieflings) - f!Lavellan & Dorian, Solavellan, heart-wrenching and angsty "Dorian & Lavellan deal with everything that happened with Solavellan and the world post-Trespasser.

floriography by ritualist - Harding/Josephine, tooth-rotting fluff and humor that contrasts Harding's earnest nature with Josephine's poise, bringing them together in a very sweet way.

contact poison by hellsreluctantheir (@/nonagesimus) - Teia/Viago, yes it's smut but it is also an amazing exploration of their dynamic, and really digs into some of the issues laid out for Viago in Tevinter Nights.

Razorwing by unoshot - f!Rook/Lucanis, a character study of their relationship throughout Veilguard that really pops off with the emotion and the imagery.

hound dogs howlin' round the gate by mortonsspoon (@shivunin) - f!Tabris & f!Tabris, I'm admittedly biased af bc this was an OC gift for me BUT objectively it is such a heartfelt piece about Tabris cousins that will get you all up in your city elf feels 😭💜

writing goals for 2025: finish & publish the rest of before you can kill the monster (you have to say its name)! And if I'm really ambitious, finish my Mahariel cure-for-the-Calling fic, which was the first DA fic I ever conceptualized, but has languished as I work and rework her canon. But it's outlined and I would love to write and finish it!

new works: 65 (!!!)

template under the cut!

words posted:

additional words written:

grand total of words:

fandoms:

highest kudos:

highest hit oneshot:

new things I tried:

fic I spent the most time on:

fic I spent the least time on:

favorite thing I wrote:

favorite thing(s) I read:

writing goals for 2024:

new works:

[spotsandsocks]

HI SPOTTY!!! i hope you’re doing well 💖💖💖

🐉🐴😧

(feel free to write more than three sentences if you are amenable, i won’t be mad about it 😇💖)

Hi buff carrying on from last ask…. We have

🐉 Good knight sweet prince part 2

At least not until it’s far too late.

Far, far too late.

Calenth may be the smartest dragon around with the best ideas but he’s also smart enough to know when something has gone wrong, so very very horribly wrong.

Christopher you need to go

Take Gwil and go

As fast as you can

Go go now

And new for you ….

🐴 highway man au

Waiting is the boring part. Eddie doesn’t hate it as much as Chimney does or rather Jim Darling, his alter ego when they’re working the highway.

Chim is Jim Darling and he’s Jed. Bobby is called the Captain. Captain Darling on the wanted poster anyway. Bobby’s never said it but Eddie thinks he quite likes the honorific.

Captain Darling is not running the show tonight. He’s left instructions obviously but it’s just the two of them. Eddie’s kind of glad, Bobby is getting older and every robbery is a risk. He really should retire, even if he does it might not strike, after all Eddie’s, technically retired and here he is waiting in the darkness for a carriage to go past.

God it’s boring.

😧 amnesia fic

“Good morning handsome, how you doing today?”

He knows the voice, it’s the same voice that’s greeted him every morning for… he checks the calendar he crosses out at the end of every day to help him keep track of things, it’s all he’s got really and he’s hanging onto the control fiercely. There are five red crosses there, he knows he missed another eight while he was unconscious.

Josephine is smiling at him as she puts his coffee, juice and toast down on the table. He stares at the apple juice resentfully, how does he know he likes apple not orange juice and nothing else. Not even his own name.

Thank you so much for sending the prompts I’m feeling so inspired it’s fantastic 😊😊😊

@tizniz @hippolotamus @daffi-990 @steadfastsaturnsrings @bi-buckrights @eddiebabygirldiaz @thekristen999 @stagefoureddiediaz @repressedqueen @beyourownanchor6

[thedragonagelesbian]

14 and 9 for the spots to kiss prompts?

kiss prompts!!!

doing 14 now.... may come back for 9 (kiss on the ear) later!

14. a kiss on the chin

"Do you miss them?"

"Always." It was always a marvel, how much softer Josephine's hands were than hers, scented with lingering hibiscus lotion and a stray smear of ink tucked into the nail bed of her pinky. Their evening herbal teas were cooling on the table in Dahlian's bedroom as they drew close to each other and the fire. Whatever they had been talking about before, the only thing Dahlian could focus on now was Josephine's fingers against her cheek... and Solas', almost a year and a half ago now, wiping everything away. A ghost she couldn't get rid of no matter how hard she huffed at the memory. "In all my years, I have never felt so foolish as I did that day."

As raw and bare as her face, every last defense that she had used to stave off vulnerability within the Inquisition stripped away.

Staring at her reflection in the water and wondering what all the wrinkles and grey hairs were worth if she was still so heartbreakingly naive.

"I am sorry," Josephine offered softly. "If you return to your clan, would you be able to perform the vallaslin ritual again?"

"I don't know." Honest and objective first, and then sighing, honest and scared: "I don't know if I want to know, though that is foolish too."

"Matters of home and belonging are never easy." Josephine touched some of those wrinkles, smoothing out Dahlian's forehead as her own brow furrowed to match it ever so slightly. "When I began to train as a bard, I tried ever so hard to disguise my Antivan accent. It feels silly in retrospect, but I was convinced that the more Orlesian I seemed, the better I would fare among the nobility as one of their spies. Perhaps it is not precisely the same thing, but--"

"No, I understand," Dahlian assured her. "Did your family ever know?"

Josephine gave a small laugh, soft and melodic. "No. When I returned to Antiva after everything, the moment that I stepped off the ship and smelled the peppers drying in the sun, I knew that I never wanted to turn away from that part of myself, even when my work took me away again."

Dahlian's mind flashed to strips of spiced jerky, bites of smoke and peppers and fat stolen during the long hours spent over her forge as Clan Lavellan's craftmaster. It suddenly hurt to swallow. "If only the Inquisition did not make it so difficult to turn back."

Josephine's forehead wrinkled again, as it so often did when Dahlian expressed her discontent with what the Inquisition had demanded of her, first as its Herald and then as its leader. No matter how many times Dahlian had assured her that she did not blame Josephine for that, that she had always been one of its brightest, most soothing lights. After a lifetime of caring for her family's fortune and future, Dahlian supposed, taking responsibility came far too easily to the eldest Montilyet.

"You're in the wrong place," she said suddenly. Josephine's fingers had drifted down to her jaw, graceful in the tracing of the bone but incorrect. "The vallaslin, it was higher up."

"Show me."

Dahlian took Josephine's hand in her own and lifted it again to her forehead, guiding her along the v shapes that had once marked her between the eyebrows. "First, the forge." She brought Josephine's fingers down her temple and along her cheek. "Then, the ironbark." Across her lips, held there for a moment, savoring the warmth of their skin together. "And then the roots, as a reminder that we never use more than what we need of the land for June's crafts." Finally, grazing the chin, the throat, skimming the top of her collarbone.

Josephine followed the movements with eyes ever sharp, as if staring hard enough could pour the ink back into her skin.

Solas had said that he saw Dahlian as she truly was. Had he ever understood what the blood of blood writing meant? The intermingling of her body--her essence--with the People.

And then Josephine's mouth replaced her fingers. Gentle in her kisses, retracing the path that Dahlian had drawn, that her Keeper had drawn decades before, where it had hurt the most. Even more than the dots underneath the eyes, the sheer softness of the throat, the fluttering pulse, the vulnerable jugular, every instinct screaming that pain there meant death, and how proud Dahlian had been to bear it as generations had before her.

There was no pain now, except in her memories, but this could be a memory too. Shared, embodied, saliva instead of blood and Josephine's lips on her chin.

It would be a good memory.

[prettymrswright]

Harlem Nights

pairing: rosalie otterbourne x black!fem!reader

background: as a singer and musician growing up in the heart of New York, you constantly had people, places, and things to be inspired by. every chance you could, you were finding places inside those rooms you always desired to be in. there was nothing more you wanted to do but perform. most of your family wouldn’t be so ecstatic about your ‘unrealistic’ and ‘unstable’ ambitions. But you knew deep down that you had what it takes. You’d soon travel down to Harlem’s hottest club of the early 20th century, ‘The Cotton Club’, and an interaction with one of your inspirations would change the trajectory of your life, forever.

content: fluff, flirting, playful banter, intimacy. a lot of sweetness + sass. warmth. little explicit language.

word count: 6k

authors note: 2nd fic down. this one was very fun to create, making it fitting to the time. I have such a sweet spot for Rosalie, I had to dedicate this one to her and all her glory. as a singer and musician myself from NY, this was very special for me. I hope y’all smiling and blushing because I was smiling and blushing writing it! enjoy. p.s. chile i kinda wanna make a part two, this was teaaaa.

taglist: @inmyheadimobsessed @zayswriting @vixentheplanet @pinkwright @saintwrld @verachii @ventingfanfics @abenomeiiii @vampzxi @shuriszn @dejaonline @mysticalmarss @shurislover @msplayas @naomis-daydream @sweetalittleselfish-honey

pinned to my page is my new taglist form. if you wanna be tagged in specifics, go fill that joint out! thank you. (i also have an opt out option for those who no longer want to be tagged if they already are). <3

A warm, summer rain pitter-pattered across the glass of your bedroom window as you began cleaning up your space. It was a comfy afternoon, almost evening, the sun peaking through the clouds and beaming down on the town, preparing for its set. It was gorgeous outside. And despite it's rather saturating nature, many people were outside on their front porches. There were so many things to do in Harlem. So many places to see. And yet you felt you could die of boredom. If you weren't busy cleaning or babysitting the neighbors kids, you were receiving a 15-page verbal essay from your mother about how dangerous the city was and how 'there ain't nothing in Harlem but drugs, scams, and prostituting!'. I mean sure it could be dangerous at times. But where in the world isn't? You just knew that as much as there were frights, there were sights. Opportunity was left and right in this town. All your favorite artists and musicians grew up right here, and you wanted to join that list.

“Alright, Y/N/N,” your mom began, putting on her jacket, grabbing her things, and approaching your bedroom door. I’m off to work. Remember to drop the evening papers by Miss Jeanine after you finish cleaning. And no clubs!”

You sighed with immediate annoyance. “But Ma—“

“No butts!” She warned sternly. “Unless it’s yours in that bed there, immediately after. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.” You respectfully reply, feeling defeated.

You were 21, soon to be 22, but Mother didn’t believe in ‘legal adult decision making’. As long as you were her child and under her roof, you complied by her rules. You understood her always being protective over you; You even appreciated it. But at this moment and time of your life, it felt more like a hinderance than anything else.

“Alright now. I’ll see you later. I love you,” she says on her way out.

“Love you too Ma,” you reply faintly, and with that, the door shuts.

You fall back down on your bed behind you, with a big exhale, staring up at your popcorn ceiling. It was such a lovely day. You should be somewhere dancing, or hanging with your best friend Josephine. Even watching the neighbors kids wouldn’t be so bad right now. At least you’d be out in the backyard.

Tonight was also one of hottest summer nights to be at the Cotton. Billie Holiday, Ma Rainey, and Salome Otterbourne were all performing. It was certain to be a full house, for sure. The three black female jazz pioneers were on tour, and this would be the only time in a while that anybody would be able to see them all perform in one night. Dozens of people even travel from out of state on nights like these. That also meant that there’d be a bunch of travel scouts and agents, waiting on more talent to grab and take under their wing. You were nauseated at the thought of even missing it for a moment.

You got up to finish your cleaning, and halfway through, you heard the door open and shut, followed by a familiar voice that you knew and loved so much.

“Why the long face, sugar?” It asked, making sure you’d turn around to see their smile.

“Grandpa!” You ran to him with open arms, beaming with joy.

Your grandfather was your best friend. Since you were a little girl, he took you under his wing. Your dad left to pursue his music dreams when you were younger, so your grandfather was also the Dad you never had. He always spoke life into you, and made sure that no matter what, you knew that you were capable of any and everything. He also instilled you with the unwavering confidence to back that. Grandpa’s think-pieces were like gold. He was very wise, and had been through it all. He’d always say:

'Don’t let anybody take you for a fool! Not even me!' And laughed. But he was serious. "What's going on? Lorraine got you in this house cleaning all day again?" He says in your defense, as he often does. You let out an exhausting puff of a sigh before plopping back down on your bed. "Yea Pop. As usual." You shifted your body towards him and stared at the ground in deep thought, pausing before continuing. "I mean, life has got to be a little more exciting than this, don't it?" He laughed a low, hearty chuckle. "There's always more excitement, Y/N/N. You just gotta find it. Don't wait for opportunity, create it!" He says affirmably, allowing you to comfortably reveal what you've been thinking about all week. "I really wanna go to the Cotton tonight, Grandpa. Salome Otterbourne is performing tonight! And a bunch of other singers and talents and--well--I'm gonna be here, missing it." You look down and fidget your thumbs around each other. "Well why don't you go?" He asks. "You know Mama don't want me around no clubs, Pop. Besides, I told her I would take the evening papers down to Miss Jeanine." You reply in slight aggravation. "Ohhh," He scoffs and waves his hand down in dismissal. "Don't let that child stop you. I'll take the papers down to Jeanine." Your eyes lit up in pleasant surprise and excitement. "Oh you will?!" "Don't worry about it." He says, a confident smirk creeping onto his face. "Go on and enjoy yourself. I don't know where Lorraine gets all that strictness from anyway. Me and Betty ain't raise that child like that. Besides, she's seen and DONE worse." You both share a big laugh. "Thanks Grandpa. You're the best!" You jump up and wrap your arms around the big guy, holding the embrace for a while. "Anything for my favorite granddaughter." He says jokingly. "I'm your only granddaughter, Grandpa." You reply giggling. "I know. Now gone and figure out what you're going to wear. I hear that Mrs. Otterbourne is looking for another back up vocalist for her band." He tells you as if he just revealed the world's biggest secret. You, performing with Salome Otterbourne and her band. Your stomach turned and the mere thought of it. You kissed your Grandpa on the cheek before rushing to the bathroom to get ready for your highly anticipated night. Your mind rushed with all the possibilities of the night's events. You'd be in the same room with people and experiencing things you've once only dreamed of. Intimidating it was, but your desire to even just be in that energy was bigger. .. After lotioning up and powdering down, you slipped on a cool lavender silk midi dress, with spaghetti straps and a flowy, skirt-like bottom. You leaned into the mirror of your vanity, shaping up your thin brows, rolling on your winged liner, and coating your lips with a nude pink gloss, a shade brighter than your natural lip color. You used your same liner to add your infamous faux face moles; one above your lip, one at the tip of your nose, and one at the top corner of your cheek bone. You placed two diamond stud earrings into your ears, decorated your left wrist with a rose gold watch, and clamped your custom microphone necklace around your neck, gifted by your Grandfather. Lastly, pulling your look together, you peel off your bonnet and hair net, coat your fingers with oil, and take out each of your curls, wrapped around perm rods. You fluffed and shaped your hair into its short, curly and tapered state, much like Sheila Guyse. You stood and wrapped your mesh shawl around your shoulders. You walked over to your tall, door mirror and scanned your body, turning each angle, before spritzing your figure with Blue Grass, by Elizabeth Taylor. You always put effort into your look, but tonight was definitely a little extra. You needed to look and feel the part. Like you belonged there, just with everyone else. You grabbed your white clutch hand purse, matching your white pumps before walking out to the living room. "So," you say to your Grandfather, doing a quick and excited 360. "How do I look?"

"Oh, Y/N," Grandpa says swiping across and covering his mouth to conceal his emotional expression. "You look beautiful. Just like your grandmother." Grandma has passed when you were 7. You had faint memories of her. But one thing you did remember, was how madly in love your Grandfather was. You always said you'd want to be loved just like that when you were older. All the family would constantly remind you of how much you looked like her, and even carried a lot of her personality traits.

"Thanks, Pop." You reach down to hug him and wipe his tear before stepping back and giving him an 'It's okay' smile. "Alright, I'm heading out!" "Alright now, have fun and be safe! Be back by 11, and please, don't give your mother anymore reasons to kill me." He says, almost pleading. "You got it, Pop." You chuckled and walked out the door, closing it tightly behind you. You looked out at the busy block and took a deep sigh before walking down your porch steps and strutting down the street, on your way to the Cotton.

..

When you arrived, the scene was just like you imagined, only even bigger. Bright lights cascaded from all around the venue, and herds of people were beginning to gather. Cars were beeping and honking, forcing to navigate through traffic with all these people taking up the area, many cars stopping just to see what was going on. Above your head were the list of household names making an appearance tonight. Men and women all throughout the area were dressed up in their absolute best. Valet was working overtime & security was tight. It felt like something out of a movie.

You staggered in front the building, and before you knew it, it was your time to walk in. It was no turning back now.

There was a warm, dim but radiant tone to the room. You seen pimps, hustlers, singers, showgirls, every type of personality you could imagine.

Sounds of bass, saxophones, and pianos filled up the club with a soothing but strong undertone. You walked in, looking around in awe at the set up. The seats were almost filled. You were certain you had to sit in the back, but you didn’t mind. Being in the room was enough. Just as you turned to go back, you spotted your best friend Josephine, sitting in front with an older gentlemen.

“Y/N!,” She called out to you, waving you over and patting the seat next to her.

“Girl!” Overwhelm with excitement, you almost run to where she was and accepted her seat offer. “What are you doing here!”

“I didn’t tell you?” She questions. “My Uncle Johnny is playing bass for Mrs. Holiday. I tried calling to invite you, but your mom said you were busy.”

Typical mother. You really wish she’d stop answering for you. You rolled your eyes, but decided not to build on it.

“Oh, well good for him!” You say with sincerely, with a bright smile.

The two of you briefly caught up before the lights dimmed and the announcer came out to direct what would be one of the most riveting moments of your life.

..

A few acts had already performed, and you were completely enamored. Jazz and blues were your absolute favorite genre, but to hear it live and in person in all its emotion and vulnerability was euphoric. It was life changing. Entertained you were, but all in all, you felt a strong confirmation. You were certain that this was the path you wanted to take. Every strum of string, every note belted, sent chills down your spine. Singing and performing, especially with a live band felt so natural. It felt warm and welcoming— like a warm fudge brownie with cold ice cream on top. The contrast was clear, but together it went so well.

“And now ladies and gentlemen,” The announcer began. “I present to you, singer, musician, and hit phenomenon, Salome Otterbourne!”

He disappeared into the curtains, his presenting arm being the last thing to disappear as Salome approached the stage from the other end. The crowd erupted; cheers, claps, whistles. You turned to grab Josephine's wrists, that were wrested in her lap, the two of you looking at each other and exchanging an excited squeal. She was stunning. She stood tall above the silver microphone on its stand, wearing a powdered pink blouse and skirt set, with a hat and a flowered wrist garnish to match. She had on white silk gloves, covering the hands that held the stand, one up high and one down low, close to her lips and she began to sing her rendition of Bessie Smith's Tain't Nobody's Bizness If I Do. There ain't nothing I can do, or nothing I can say That folks don't criticize me But I'm goin' to do just as I want to anyway And don't care if they all despise me If i should take a notion To jump into the ocean 'Tain't nobody's business if I do, do, do, do If I go to church on Sunday Sing the shimmy down on Monday Ain't nobody's business if I do, if I do

She sang every word as if she wrote it herself. It was fitting, seeing that Salome was a confident, self-assured woman. You looked around to scan her band. There were two guys on strings. Another on the sax. One on trombone. And to the left of Salome, the pianist. A woman. She was the only other woman on stage besides the main singer, and she was playing for her. It was rare to see female musicians. And not only was she playing piano, but she was singing backup as well. She was gorgeous. She had pretty, cinnamon brown skin, narrow, sparkly eyes, and the prettiest smile you ever saw. She was on the taller side and had a slim but sturdy frame. Her hair was in a pin-curled bob, parted to the side, accentuating her sharp jaw structure. "Who is that?" You semi-whispered to your friend, intrigued. "That's Rosalie Otterbourne." She leaned in and whispered back, eyes still glued to the stage. "Salome's niece, if I'm not mistaken." "Oh." You reply back. The only thing you could say really. She was breath-taking, and seemingly just as talented as her aunt. As the song continues, she briefly averts her attention the crowd and her eyes are met with yours. Stopping and holding her gaze for a second, fingers still tap dancing with the instruments keys, she slightly tilts her head and flashes you a smile. You felt your heart begin to take on an unfamiliar arrangement of beats. Taken aback, you sheepishly smiled back, shakily lifting up your hand to give a small wave. She acknowledges it before returning her attention to her piano and back at Mrs Salome as they join in on the next verse. If my friend ain't got no money And I say, "Take all mine, honey" 'Tain't nobody's business if I do, do , do do If I give him my last nickel And it lives me in a pickle 'Tain't nobody's business if I do, If I do

“Holy shit, Y/N/N,” Josephine tugs at your side. “I think she just smiled at you.”

Okay so she saw that too. Surely it wasn’t for me directly. She was being courteous to her audience.

As the song came to an end, the crowd erupted once again.

“How y’all doing tonight New York? Y’all good?” She asks scanning out to the crowd. When answered by more cheers and whistles, she continued. “Alright, that’s what Salome Otterbourne like ta hear!”

“Tonight is a very special night for me. I’m back home and I have to say you all make me feel so welcomed.” She says with a sassy smile. She proceeds to introduces all the members of her band, leaving her for the end.

“And last but certainly not least, on the piano and back ground vocals, my lovely niece, manager, brain and backbone, Miss Rosalie Otterbourne!” She stands tall and blows a few two-handed kisses out across the room and seals her welcome acceptance with a big warm smile. For whatever reason, in the moment, it felt as if time stood still.

Time progressed as Salome and her band finished out their set. You were sad to see it end so soon. It was such a beautiful arrangement of music. People began to scatter; some leaving, some going to the bar, some going to dance. Some even went to ask for autographs and things of that nature. After awhile the chaos began to subside, and there Salome and her team was, alone, packing their things. You wondered if it was your time to approach. Even if she didn’t get to hear you sing, at least you could express to her how much her music quite literally saved you. As all these different thoughts browsed through your brain, your best friend, Josephine, took a page out of its catalog, as she often did, turning to say,

“Look there go Salome and them, finally by themselves. You should go say something!" She exclaimed, mid-chew of her olive that previously rested in the middle of her martini glass. You began to get sheepish. You had thought the same, but you now you were unsure. "Say what, Jose?" She turned to face you completely. "I don't know, but make your existence known. Tell her you sing or something!" "Yeah," you scoffed. "And embarrass myself?"

"Now, don't start that mess," She began, ready to get you together, as she often did. Not to mention she was the only one who could besides your grandpa. "You and I both know you're just as talented as anybody on that stage. And we always both know that you aren't shy." She was right. Being nervous about meeting an idol was regular, but you had prepared yourself for this moment over a million times. But you weren't sure why this specific time had you tucking your tail. "Besides," she continued. "Maybe you could introduce yourself to that pretty gal, Rosalie." She flashed you a smirk. Your eyes grew so wide they almost popped out of their sockets. Josephine could read you like a book. You never discussed or confessed aloud of your feelings toward other women. Not because you were ashamed, but you felt much like the song; ain't nobody business if I do. You choked out a breathy, nervous chuckle before you could began to speak. "Wha--" "Oh, save it. Now go!" She gave you a small but hefty push towards the direction of the stage. You stumbled forward, looking back to grill your best friend before straightening out your dress, dusting yourself off, and taking a deep breath. With that, you took all the confidence you did in that moment and used to it fuel your feet's motion toward the front of the stage. You'd been up there for all of maybe ten seconds before you were spotted. Her loud and heavy laugh drifting from off the end of her last sentence to her bandmate, she turned around from her kneeled position and gave you a small smile. "Hey Sugar. Can I help you?" "Oh n-no Miss Otterbourne I jus--" she shook her head and cut you off mid-sentence. "Please, child, Salome is just fine." You half-smiled at her correction. "Well, Salome. You were phenomenal tonight. Your voice and your arrangements are just what jazz has been missing." You say to her sincerely, hand in hand. "Aren't you sweet," She chuckles at your sincerity. "Well thank you, Sugar. I've worked hard for my sound. You know what they say, you want something done right --" "Do it yourself." You both say simultaneously and you laugh. "I'm with you on that one." You were pleasantly surprised how down to earth she was. "This is exactly why I'm in charge of keeping things together. Auntie where'd Ernie put that cas--" Rosalie came out from behind the stage, stopping mid-sentence once she'd seen you. "Who's this?" She points, asking what of your presence as if you weren't standing right there. You mentally laugh at her rudeness, knowing she didn't purposely mean to do it. "I'm Y/N." "She came to tell us how much she liked the show." Salome helped you finish your introduction. "Is that right," She asks rhetorically, raising her eyebrows, intrigued. "What part striked you the most?" You felt a wave of vibrations flow through your abdomen, immediately thinking of the glance the two of you shared in the midst of the performance. "W-well, I really enjoyed your rendition of T'aint nobody's business. I could relate on personal levels, but I felt that you could too. Especially that bridge. Salome, your vibrato is unreal. And with your tone, Rosalie, it blended perfectly." The singer and her accomplice looked at you with impressed eyes. "Well, well. That's some very specific terminology, Miss Y/N. Are we speaking to a fellow musician?" Rosalie asks, eager to hear your response. "Yes. A singer." You chose the confident route. You wanted to continue their interest. "Really?" Salome says matter-of-factly. "Well let us hear something, sugar!" You were having a hard time grasping that this was reality. You lived in the R.E.M part of your brain, playing out the different scenarios that would lead you to an interaction like this, but you never thought it'd be so soon. "You sure?" You ask honestly. "I know you're a busy woman." "Nonsense. Salome leave when Salome gets good and ready." She reassures you, speaking about herself in the third person once again.

"And if your voice is as pretty as you are, then we're in for a treat." Rosalie says, tossing a wink in your direction.

You felt a lump in your throat begin to form and hurriedly swallowed to force it to subside. You felt your cheeks began to heat up like a stove. Receiving a compliment was one thing, but receiving one from a woman of Rosalie's stature, successful, pretty, and poised, was another. You tried your hardest not to let it phase you, but you couldn't help but to let a flattered smile creep onto your face.

You briefly turned around to find your best friend across the room, smiling and giving you two thumbs up.

The band's bass player came over to take your hand and help you up the stage steps, directing you to where the mic was, still plugged in and hot.

Rosalie walked over to her piano and removed the cover she had just recently placed.

"Any preferences?" Rosalie asked.

"The Very Thought of You." You answered confidently, knowing how well the song complimented your voice. "Do you know it?"

"Billie Holiday." She says with a smile, proving her knowledge. "Like the back of my hand."

"Let's do it." You say, ready to take advantage of your moment.

Rosalie began fingering through the keys of her piano, playing up the intro of the song. As the melody began to fill up the venue, the people who remained in the building all focused their attention to the stage. You closed your eyes, let in a huge breath of air, and began to sing.

The very thought of you

And I forget to do

Those little ordinary things

That everyone ought to do

I'm living in a kind of daydream

I'm happy as a queen

And foolish though it may seem

To me that's everything

In this moment, it was you and the melodies that filled your ears alone. You sang just as you would if you were home in your room. Your voice was smooth and velvety. It could serenade you to sleep, or it could fill you with emotion. It was soft, two octaves away from breathy. It was easy to be attracted to your voice alone.

The mere idea of you

The longing here for you

You never know how slow the moments go

Till I'm near to you

I see your face in every flower

Your eyes in stars above

It's just the thought of you

The very thought of you, my love

You glanced in Rosalie's direction, secretly searching for a reaction, and was met by a dazed stare and watery eyes. Even outside of her usual, self-assured nature, she was so beautiful. You wondered what thoughts were flying through her pretty head.

You walked over to the piano and sat at the edge, close to Rosalie, and finished out the song beautifully, never breaking eye contact with her.

I see your face in every flower

Your eyes in stars above

It’s just the thought of you

The very thought of you, my love

Rosalie scanned your face with adored eyes as she played out the outro. You held your gaze, adlib-ing out the rest of the song and began to get lost in the pool of her pretty, chocolate brown eyes. The eruption of the crowd before you is the only thing that broke you from the hypnosis she placed you in.

You stood up again in front the crowd, placed your hands on your heart and gave a bow. You were so proud of yourself and simultaneously stunned. They loved you. The crowds reaction just confirmed all those nights you journaled about feeling called to be in the limelight. In the distance you could see Josephine, practically jumping up and down, mouthing “That’s my girl!”

It was a long, loud applause and standing ovation. At this point, people were beginning to get curious about who you were and where you even came from. With that, the cat-calling also began.

“Hold on, where you from, baby?!“ One man shouted.

“Can I take you home?” Another one followed.

You were too starstruck by your own self to be annoyed by men and their ignorance. In fact, it humored you in this moment. Once the crowd begin to subside, Salome ran up to you.

“Well I’ll be damned!” She says, clasping her hands together. “Sista you can blow!”

Nods and sounds of approval were given by the rest of the crew.

“Says you!” You say brightly. “Thank you, Salome. And thank you for allowing me to sing on your stage.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” She says, leaving you with slight confusion. “What does the rest of your weekend look like?”

Cleaning. Possibly babysitting. Absolutely nothing exciting.

“Nothing much, really.”

“Well, I have a couple more stops to make and perform at before we get back on the road. I want you to come perform with me.” She says sincerely.

You were there with a stunned look on your face. You were at a lost of words, and when you finally find them, they come out more blunt than you expected, “Quit playin’.”

The older woman laughed. “Serious as a heart attack, Sugar. Leave your home number with Rosalie, and stay by the phone. We have business to discuss.” She walked off to other side of the stage. You had to conceal your urge to scream your head off.

“Looks like you got yourself a job,” Rosalie began to walk up to you.

“Thanks to you. Where’d you learn to play like that?” you ask genuinely interested.

“Where’d you learn to sing like that? I thought you was just bull-jiving.” You both laugh.

“I’ve been singing since I was a little girl. My mother always put me in the church choir, and I enjoyed it, so I held onto it.”

“Well you definitely got soul.” She exclaimed.

“Thank you.” You say, blushing at her intense focus on you as she spoke.

“So tell me,” She moves closer to you. “Did you mean what you said?”

You tilted your head slightly at her comment. “What did I say?”

“I see your face in every flower, just the mere thought of you, my love” She speaks the lyrics of the song you just sang.

You weren’t expecting that at all, your body slightly trembling underneath the words her forwardness.

“It’s just a song, Miss Rosalie.” You professed, keeping as much ground as you could. “I am a performer, and I performed.”

“Ahh,” She says nodding sarcastically. “A performance, was it? A stunning one, might I add.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at her sarcasm and her witt. The girl was indeed charming. And she wasn’t buying that you didn’t feel the tension that was brewing between the two of you.

“Rosie,” Salome called out. “We going on out to the car, when you ready, we can be on our way.”

“You got it,” Rosalie responded.

“Y/N!” Your best friend came running towards you, and you kneeled down towards the edge of the stage. “Girl you killed it! Brought tears to my eyes, I love seeing you in your element girl, you gone be rich!“ She rambles, saying the last part through clenched teeth. She stops and looks up.

“H-Hi Miss Otterbourne. Rosalie. I’m Y/N’s best friend Josephine.” She introduces herself.

“Hello darling,” Salome smiles. Rosalie waves.

“Well, girl,” she was now whispering. “I gotta go, my man is outside waiting for me, but call me when you get home and tell me EVERYTHING.”

You erupted in laughter. Josephine loved her some him.

“You so crazy. Enjoy yourself, and get home safe.” You say back, momentarily reaching for your best friends hand and squeezing it caringly.

“I will girl!” She runs off and out of the venue.

“Well, Miss Y/N,” Rosalie turns to you. “Where do you live? We could drop you off home.”

“Oh that won’t be necessary,” You assured her. “I live right up the street.”

Rosalie paused for a minute. “Come with me,” she grabbed your hand and the two of you scurried out through the exit backstage.

The warm outside breeze grazed your skin as the two of you began to walk semi-dark, summer streets. It wasn’t freezing, but it was a slight bitter chill that left you feeling more on the cold side.

“Here,” She took off her black, furry jacket and placed it around your arms. “It looks better on you anyway.” You gave a toothless smile at her comment.

“Did you actually enjoy my performance tonight?” You ask, somewhat serious.

“Did I?” She scoffs as if you said the most outrageous thing. “Absolutely breathtaking.”

You look down in nervousness. “You’re not so bad yourself. I mean I always knew she had other talented people in her circle but you,” You paused. “You have such a melodic voice. I enjoyed it very much.”

“Well thank you. Much like you, I keep my accolades undercover. It’s like a pleasant surprise. You think you know me and then— boom.” She illustrates her sentence, flicking her hands open, emulating fireworks.

“Well I don’t know how surprised I’d be considering how confident you are,” You say with an instance. “People like that always have something going on.”

“It takes one to know one, right?” She looks at you through low lids, her figure standing a few inches taller than you. For a while it’s silent. Suddenly, you blurt out something you’d only ever think of to yourself.

“Rosalie have you ever loved a woman?” You ask, almost regretting it, but still wanting to know her thoughts. She furrowed her eyebrows in interest, waiting for you to finish instead of answering right away.

“In the way.. you ain’t ‘supposed’ to love a woman?” you continued emphasizing the quotes, finishing your thought.

She sighed in relief. You sensed that you possibly could’ve opened a safe place for her to speak.

“I have loved women since I learned to walk and talk. My aunt and my band family are the only ones who know. They’d say, ‘Ole Rosalie couldn’t catch a man if she put a bra in a net!’ But they knew I didn’t want to. They ain’t give me no trouble. But everybody story ain’t like mine.” She opens up to you and you look at her with soft eyes.

“What about you?” She then turns to you, returning the question. “I’m guessing you have.”

“Nobody knows about me. Nobody but my bestfriend Josephine. I’ve never even been in love before. Not with a man either. But tonight, standing next to you I- I don’t know. I felt kinda like a school girl.”

Rosalie begins to laugh at your confession. She thought it was sweet. Secretly, she felt the same.

“Oh, stop it, It ain’t funny!” You say defensively, tapping her shoulder, but she continues to laugh. And you continue to fall. Before you could pull your hand back, she grabs it, and pulls you into her. The two of you stop walking momentarily, and it’s you, her, and this lonely street. She places a hand on your waist, the other still holding your hand, and comes close enough to your face to separate the two of you with a single piece of paper.

“Dance with me,” She breathes into you.

“But we ain’t got no music,” You say back, smiling foolishly at her impulses.

“Yes we do.” She begins to hum The Very Thought of You, and the two of you sway side to side, your feet moving in a circle around each other. You begin to him with her, the two of you harmonizing on every chorus. In this moment time stood still. An overwhelming feeling of adoration and excitement washed over you. You felt like the only girl in the world. She had a way of building on your romantic tension, all while making you feel like you gained another best friend. It was the perfect night, and you never wanted it to end.

The two of you stop your tango, and she pulls you in, kissing you ever so slowly and passionately. You felt yourself melt into her, the heat of your bodies keeping each other warm. You finally pull back and share a long gaze, her arms still holding you. Your moment was interrupting by a loud honk from a car coming around the corner.

BEEP BEEP.

“You two ready?” Salome smiled, hanging out the passenger window. “Get in!”

Rosalie led you to the back seat, her getting in first and you following, closing the door behind you.

“What’s your address, sugar?” Salome asked. You gave it to her, and off you all were.

“Oh,” Rosalie began, “Before I forget,” She grabs a pad and a pen from underneath the seat to give you. “Can’t leave without your number.”

You smile and take the materials from her hand.

555-8269 Y/N. You wrote in its red ink, drawing a small heart next to it, and kissing the paper, leaving the mark of your now halfway glossed lips. You folded it up and handed to her, and she delicately placed it in her purse. She slid her hand over top of yours, which now rested on your knee, and interlocked your fingers.

“I’ll be expecting you,” You say softly.

“First thing tomorrow morning.” She affirms to you, holding her intense gaze. She lifts up your hand and places a soft, gentle kiss on the back of it.

Before you knew it, you were pulling up in front of your house.

“Thank you again, Salome. I had a wonderful time.” You express, full of gratitude.

“Don’t mention it, doll. I’ve had a great night myself. Now make sure you stay by the phone, hear? You gone be a star. And I’m gone make sure of it.” She says, turning around to face you from her passenger.

“And I think my Rosalie is very fond of you.” She looks at her niece with a proud and accepting smile. Rosalie gives one back.

“Yes ma’am.” You say, blushing of slight embarrassment but also appreciation. You step out the car and walk up your concrete steps.

“Y/N,” Rosalie says out the window. You turn around.

“Yes?”

“Goodnight.” She says, holding onto every moment she has left of this night with you.

“Goodnight, Rosalie,” You say sweetly, but teasingly.

You walked into your home and crept up to your room, careful not to wake anyone up. You run up to look outside your window and watched as the car drove off. You couldn’t believe this was your life. But you were glad that it was.

All night your head spinned, accompanied by thoughts of you and Rosalie. The instant chemistry between the two of you left you in such a fuzzy state. It was the beginning of something new. It felt warm and welcoming— like a warm fudge brownie with cold ice cream on top. The contrast was clear.. but together, you went so well.

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

I LOVE YOUR WORKS SO MUCH ITS INSANE RAHHH… where does one find your ‘a wolf in chase’ fic??

aww thank you! that's so kind of you to say!

I took Wolf in Chase and Pale Before the Fall down because for a time there was an iteration of them (very, very different I will say) being shopped to publishers but that is now on the back burner.

Please find the Woodford Series PDFs below (I also included the few on AO3 so you have a sense of the proper order of things):

Pale Before the Fall

Pairing: Napoleon/Wellington; Historical pairings (e.g., Wellesley/Kitty, past Napoleon/Josephine etc.) Rating: T to M(ish) Summary: After Waterloo, through a cunning lawyer and some finagling, Bonaparte manages to end up in England instead of St Helena for his final exile. Of course things don't stay quiet. There's an old murder. A stodgy Duke newly returned from France. A disintegrating marriage. And a couple of ghosts to top it all off. (and full of pretentious chapter titles and what not) Published: 2013-09-27

A Wolf in Chase

Pairing: Napoleon/Wellington; Historical pairings Rating: T to M(ish) Summary: Sequel to "Pale Before the Fall" though I don't think it's too much a necessity to have read the first one. A continuation of something like a friendship. If one may be so liberal as to call it that. Mostly, there are mysteries and a bored (former) emperor who has nothing better to do than drag a certain duke along on his adventures. Published: 2015-07-07

An argument for the wise use of blankets, or, Napoleon dislikes Canova's interpretation of him as Peacemaker (AO3)*

Pairing: Napoleon/Wellington; Historical pairings Rating: G Summary: For an anon on tumblr who requested the following: I have only one Napollington suggestion and it is anything including Napoleon being ridiculously angry about Arthur having that naked Napoleon statue in his house. Published: 2019

*I wrote a second, newer version of this fic at the request of someone on here. So that version is also on AO3 as A Kindness Interrupted. Same premise, a little more angsty. Published: 2024

Unsent Letters**

Pairing: Napoleon/Wellington; Historical pairings Rating: T(ish) Summary A child has gone missing out in the countryside. Wellington investigates. Napoleon is pissed that he's not invited along for the ride. It is a series of letters between them as shit gets weird. Published: 2018? I think?

**Note: Takes place ostensibly in the same universe as Pale and Wolf except that I also borrowed heavily from the rewrite that was being shopped around. So some characters who died in the OG are alive in this version. Treat it as an au of an au. I'll note that this is probably my favourite of the lot. Key differences: Georgiana Preston is alive, it's someone from her past who was murdered. Napoleon ended up half-dead on a river bank due to a fairy king trying to slice him open. Mary did some weird fucked up magic to heal him. Is he now like...weirdly sewn into the land? Maybe. Don't worry about it.

Wrack and Ruin (on AO3)

Pairing: Napoleon/Wellington; Historical pairings Rating: T(ish) Summary A letter from Joseph Bonaparte relating to the oft' cited and mysterious Jersey Devil brings Napoleon and an always less-than-amused Wellesley to New Jersey. Published: 2017

Usual disclaimer that these are quite old and absolutely not up to snuff compared to my current writing (I cannot emphasize this enough). But if you're interested, feel free to dive in.

[myloveforhergoeson]

ash's august 2024 reading round up

find all the books and fics i read (or didn't read...) this month under the cut with a link to the synopsis and my reviews/ratings attached :)

this is just for fun! i'm not a professional, i just like to read <3

booklist:

The Au Pair Affair by Tessa Bailey (18+!)

• review: ugh. this book was so bad lmao. which does pain me to say because i historically have really enjoyed bailey's writing. and i was super excited for this one because i love hockey romance too! but something about it just felt... off to me. perhaps it was the mmc, burgess' protectiveness of this woman he met one time months ago or how much he thought about how they weren't right for each other or maybe i just didn't like him as a character in general. i also didn't like the fmc, tallulah all that much either; i just found her kind of... allowing herself to be a product of her own situations throughout the entire book. i am sympathetic to her previous bad experience with her ex boyfriend and how he treated her, but i also believe there are better ways to draw attention to the fact that "burgess is a strong, violent hockey player and she was abused by her ex, how could they ever be right for each other?!?!" like... does every woman in a hockey romance have to experience this in order to make this dichotomy known? i just would have liked some more originality on that front i don't know. i also think there was a huge missed opportunity for lissa, burgess' daughter, to have helped bridge the gap between the two adults. as tallulah becomes her part-time caregiver while burgess is away, the two of them really hit it off - i think they had the best dynamic in the entire book and i wish there was more about them and how seeing his daughter and the woman he liked getting along inspired burgess or something. but overall. just a pretty flat story to me. i didn't feel the chemistry, i didn't like how burgess treated tallulah like he owned her, and i didn't like that sooo many times each of them thought they weren't right for each other. why? because it was fucking true! there's a reason you're both feeling this! the best part of this book was the ending chapters where they attend the wedding of the mc's of the first book in this series. i was very excited to see josephine again, i loved her so much. the barnes + noble exclusive bonus chapter was literally the best thing in the book but doesn't make the book itself better in anyway as not everyone got to read it lmao

• rating: 2/5 hockey skates

fic list:

1. Assorted works of @selangkir <333

• Continuation of their Jo/Lucy fic!

MY GIVE A FUCKS ARE ON VACATION

i truly cannot get enough of jo and lucy and your beautiful mind... the dynamic these two have going is already making me giddy and i'm so obsessed with your take on this alternate universe where the boys leave instead of jo! the background you're spinning for lucy has also got my attention in such a grip, the scene at jett's party when she's thinking about her brother and how they used to have these kickbacks with all of his friends. the way we don't learn much about her family in btrtv left so much room for expansion, and i just love the direction you're taking it! AND of course the perfect continuation of our GTR au... god, the kendall and katie scene was so funny to me i love how Sibling they really are. the expansion work on kendall is just fascinating too and running a donation campaign on top of that?? augh! tysm for sharing your work w us <3 (and the private post you sent me with your wips... oh augh i cannot wait for what's in store in the future!!)

2. Assorted works of @ceruleanmusings :))) <3

• Big Time Audition - The Masons

.10

.11

.12

Blood Diamond; Year Three

as always, i ADORED your work this month... lord... i thought about big time audition - the masons for like an entire week. the way each girl is introduced and the way it fits them so perfectly had me feeling like i was there in the house with them, tracking through room to room to see what each of them were doing and how you chose to share them with the world. not only that, but micky watching james' audition literally made me fall out of my chair AHH! i just love them so so so much; the 10-12 blurbs were so wonderful. blood diamond year three was also an incredible work - i loved the direction of choosing to have it be purely conversational but it was still packed with so much raw emotion. the last line also felt like a sucker punch to the face i don't think i'll ever forget it.

3. Assorted works of @partiallypearl / @praetoravila !! <3

hold tight

but we're evergreen

her sense of style, it really rocks

jelisa kiss blurb

cause you got me, and baby, i got you

i tried not to face the truth

be my bad boy (be my man)

oh, i leave quite the impression

our human loneliness

show me your colors

ok.... the way i have been so olivepilled this month is just insane. i'm obsessed with her, i love her, she is my special perfect girl. thank you so much for feeding us with all this good olive content this month - i might die without it. everything about her story, from the introduction with her and her sister (wren... loml) and the first time she meets logan, to their ongoing friendship --> relationship dynamic has me SCREAMING. i love the story you are weaving and i'm so thankful to be able to see it unfolding in real time. she DOES leave quite the impression! the two of them make me illlll. ty for letting me send you a million lolive songs and tiktoks this month and thank you for letting me steal her for the wag au!! it will happen again (affectionately). and your lucy blurb was so captivating as well; your take on her life events leading to her arrival at the palm woods was fascinating. i love her so much! your writing only solidifies this hehe

4. Assorted works of @icegirl2772 <33 !!

• Take A Shot In The Dark Chapter 15!

We Do (But Friends Don't)

girl... you should have seen my jaw DROP at the end of this chapter... oh you got me sooooo so sosoo so good. i was throwing parties in my head... screaming... and then i was crying 😭 A DREAM??? so impactful to my health and wellbeing i stg. i cannot wait for the james and neil show down i am so ready for it... and the new addition of we do (but friends don't) was lovely. god i can't get enough of james and kaelyn!! <333

5. Assorted works of @inkameswetrust :)) !!! <3

The Windowsill

The Windowsill (pt. 2)

The Windowsill (pt. 3)

hiii bestie welcome to the reading round up... your kames fic had me screaming and crying and throwing up (affectionately) even if i accidentally started on the second chapter and not the first hehe. the dynamic between james and kendall is so sweet - james being sooo thoughtful and surprising?? hello?? i a puddle on the floor - and the dynamic you created between kendall and his family in the second edition was so cute. the knights are so special to me and i love that you chose to highlight them (even during kendall's james freak out) :)) the third edition was so cute as well! logan and carlos cutting off their conversation... teasing kendall about what happened... omg. the two of them make me so giddy and this fic is making me collect my own butterflies in my stomach hehe and the classic kendall fumble at the end had me rolling... tysm for sharing! i love your work!!!

[jojodelaguerras-wooden-stick]

Some Christian Borle works that I hope vox fans will know about !!

I assume that there are many hazbin fans who are discovering CBorle or my tiktok has just been fueling this misunderstanding. Anyway, live laugh Christian Borle

Spamalot (OBC) - Historian/Prince Herbert/others

He is so funny in this, especially as Prince Herbert and not-dead-yet Fred. Being ragdolled and shaken around by the king as Prince Herbert or insulting Sir Robin with his tambourine as a minstrel

Legally Blonde (OBC) - Emmett Forrest

I know this is one of his most iconic roles but Emmett deserves more love literally the sweetest character and CBorle played as him so well. His "little miss woods comma Elle" AH and the little things that makes Emmett RAHHHHH

Some Like it Hot (OBC) - Joe/Josephine/Kip

Did you know that he does most of this show IN HEELS. Not only that, TAP DANCING IN HEELS like are you kidding. He also wrote some lines for the show! I love the whole show in general, it is so funny and so real in how they talk about identity and how you present yourself. I can write a whole essay but that'll be for another day. I love this show with all my heart

Little Shop of Horrors (2019 off-bway revival) - Orin/others

Speaking of heels, he too was in heels for this production, but much much less than SLiH. Still, the talent is there. Especially when he plays all the different characters, from a crazy dentist like Orin to Skip Snip. He is also super unhinged and likes to drag out his death as Orin to make the audience laugh. I recommend watching the tiny desk concert first if you are not familiar

Thoroughly Modern Millie (Replacement) - Jimmy Smith

There's not much for this show, just a video of him singing What do I need with love. I liked his singing in this and the small details he does during this song to show that Jimmy has fallen for Millie is cute

Mary Poppins (Replacement) - Bert

He may claim that he was the worst tap dancing Bert but he was still a champ for learning all that choreo and even going upside down in step in time. Another one with crumbs :" Gosh what I would give for a boot cuz rn its just the disney on Bway videos and jolly holiday. He did it with Laura Michelle Kelly :)

Me and My Girl (New York City Centre) - Bill Snibson

He did this show with Laura Michelle Kelly too :))) AND THE SHOW IS SO FUNNY it's so underrated and has very funny lines. Someone said that it was basically 2 hours of CBorle being silly. I also love his and Laura Michelle Kelly's dynamics as Bill and Sally. Speaking of this couple, Bill and Sally are literally as healthy as Emmett and Elle and i love that for them

Peter and the Starcatcher (OBC) - Blackstache

Literally my favourite show of his. His blackstache is so animated and silly I love him. And his agility sliding over the trunk and running around. His moments in Mermaid Outta Me ༼⁠;⁠´⁠༎ຶ⁠ ⁠۝ ⁠༎ຶ⁠༽ silly lil guy. Similarly to Orin, he likes to drag out his hand pain to make the audience laugh. AND HIS CURLS omg this era of CBorle hair is the best imo. And he won his first tony for it! That goes to show something about his portrayal of Captain Hook and how it needs more love !!!!!

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (OBC) - Willy Wonka

A lot of people seem to see this role as the role he went bald for. We joke about Borled Egg a lot but he brought such beautiful unhingeness to this role that really brought out the joy of this show.

Footloose (The Muny) - Director

He also directs! Though there is no boot for this production, he talks about his experience directing and working on the show in some interviews and a reunion zoom call. The cast talks about how he allows them to be free in their portrayal of the characters while giving advice and proper directions, especially since he was in Footloose for tour and bway. I would have loved to watch it since footloose is a show I like too. NaTasha Yvette Williams is also in this!

Anyway, he has done a lot more shows, he's been in the industry for nearly 30 years so he has a lot under his belt and I wish he wasn't just reduced to Vox's VA, Marvin or Shakespeare. He's a brilliant actor with impeccable comedic timing and seriousness. He's not a two-time Tony award winner for nothing!