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raccoonfallsharder · 8 months

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Window Across the Galaxy ✧*:･ﾟupdated 1/17

18+ only | rocket x f!oc | 25/27 chapters | wip| word count: pending. ♡ check the masterlist for expected updates ♡ ♡ see the "holiday special" ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ Winter Across the Galaxy * ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ [new 12/5] ♡

see new fan art of my girl jo! a few gorgeous sketches by @moonnpiie ♡♡♡♡ and a Chapter XXIV jo by @frostedwitch ♡♡♡♡

girl falls first; racoon falls harder.

Rocket isn’t sure how he continues to be surprised by her, or how he never seems to anticipate her next move, especially when — cosmically speaking — Jo’s the most predictable frickin’ person he knows. For one damn thing, she is constantly dropping down to the ground in front of him: in front of the cage with a plateful of food. In the streets of Conjunction. By his bed while he slept. The very first time she’d used her mouth on him. And then the next time, too. That whole experience had been so brain-melting he still isn’t sure he’ll ever recover. But for whatever reason, when she sits down at the foot of his chair this time and takes his hands in her own — so carefully — his heart is suddenly, unexpectedly, in his throat. He can’t breathe around it, can’t swallow. When she starts speaking, he already knows what she’s going to say. He can feel it in the air, like static electricity building toward a spark. Because, just as she’d said, she’d already told him a million times before. With and without words. But still. He can’t breathe. And once she’s done confessing, and gives him two kisses — one pressed into each palm, to keep — she looks at him patiently and shifts like she’s about to rise to her feet and go about her night, like she’s not expecting anything back. Because of course she’s not.

[NEW 1/9] ✧･ﾟ:*Chapter XXV. Little Love Stories. in which both of our heroes learn a little about themselves. ❤︎

i know there are parts of this don't read smoothly (sorry sorry sorry) but in general i am so so so happy with this chapter. drax. (╥﹏╥) we have two more chapters to go, which is.... kinda making me cry tbh. i already miss these two idiots so much. ~♡

explicit lines or references* abbreviated explicit sequences ❤︎ detailed/prolonged explicit sequences ❤︎❤︎

General summary/notes + links to recently preceding chapters behind the cut.

let me know via comment, message, or ask if you'd like to be added or removed from my fanfic taglist ♡

Rocket is captured by a Ravager crew hoping to get rich off the excessively large bounty on his head. Throwing a wrench in everyone’s plans is the Terran girl they hired to do some freelance assessing on a recent haul of goods they’ve seized from a Xandaran luxury liner. Oops.

slight AU starting pre-GOTG volume 1 (but will hit most of the same major plot points). slow burn + eventual smut with a lot of pining in the middle. kinda enemies-to-lovers? (but only one of these idiots thinks they're enemies).

let me be real with you: this fic is really about wish-fulfillment. not just the eventual smut (but that too). mostly i just want someone to be nice to my best boy raccoon

*･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:*✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*

Chapter I. A Delicacy. in which our reluctant heroes meet atop a crate of Sovereign porn in the bowels of a Ravager ship.

Chapter II. Monster For A Pet. in which one hero wrestles with his inner Groot, and the other is quite possibly a moron.

Chapter III. A Kindness. in which Rocket gets in his own damn way: not for the first time, and certainly not for the last.

Chapter IV. Got There First. in which our heroes obtain an arsenal and street food.

Chapter V. Things No-One Has Said Before. in which one hero refuses to babysit and the other refuses to leave.

Chapter VI. Two and a Half Billion Units.in which we lean into the “they were roommates” trope. Jolie has misgivings, while Rocket has fantasies - about getting rich, of course.

Chapter VII. I'm Here. in which we visit Knowhere.

Chapter VIII. The Care & Feeding of Human Pets. in which our heroes practice breathing and we lean into a new trope: “there was (technically) one bed.”

Chapter IX. Scrapmetal and a Dream. in which we redefine homemaking.

Chapter X. Thin Fucking Ice. in which our heroes get fucked. Not in the good way.

Chapter XI. Let It Be. in which Xandar is saved and good lives are lost.

Chapter XII. So Much It Hurts. in which we try not to fuck up the vibes.

Chapter XIII. Don’t Wait. in which a lost sister is found and Drax grapples with the concept of sarcasm.

Chapter XIV. Exactly Like a Flower. in which comfort is shared.

Chapter XV: Galaxy-Breaking Shit. in which more comfort is shared, and life is good. Briefly.

Chapter XVI. Run. in which Rocket falls victim to his superstitions.

Chapter XVII. A Seedling. A Fox. A Little Girl. in which the party is divided.

Chapter XVIII. I Happen to Know a Guy. in which our heroes get fucked. Again. Still not in the good way.

Chapter XIX. He Was Loved. in which a planet is killed, a friend is made and lost, and nobody still has any frickin’ tape.

Chapter XX. Some Nerve. *in which an ultimatum is given.

Chapter XXI. I Very Still. ❤︎❤︎ in which our heroes get fucked. In the good way, this time. Finally.

Chapter XXII. Got There Worse. ❤︎❤︎ in which Rocket does not say "I love you."

Chapter XXIII. We're Gonna Need a Bigger Table. ❤︎ in which the galaxy continues to spin.

Chapter XXIV. Space Would Be Better. ❤︎❤︎ in which Rocket ~discreetly~ claims the title of boyfriend.

Chapter XXV. Little Love Stories. * in which both of our heroes learn a little bit about themselves.

Chapter XXVI. Other Side of the Window. ❤︎

Chapter XXV. The Most Beautiful Thing in My House. ❤︎❤︎

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ Winter Across the Galaxy * ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆A Holiday Special *

Epilogue: Interviewing Rocket & Jo. ten years after Window ends. short/drabbly, silly fluff.

explicit lines or references* abbreviated explicit sequences ❤︎ detailed/prolonged explicit sequences ❤︎❤︎

taglist ♡ @evolvingchaoswitch ♡ @wren-phoenix ♡ @pretty-chips ♡ @suicidalshitstick ♡ @glow-autumz

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inairbinad · 1 year

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WIP Weekend!

The best way to start the weekend, honestly. Thanks for the tags @steves-strapcollection, @patchworkgargoyle, and @starryeyedjanai 💜💜💜

✨THE RULES✨

In a reblog (or new post w/ rules attached), post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can’t share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request!

✨THE WIPs✨

Send in multiple requests if you want! I'm not gonna hold you babes back.

Steve the botanist (Disclaimer: I need to work on this, but I can legit only share 3 sentences per ask before I post the whole thing via wip games)

The Saving Chrissy One (Barb Lives!AU)

Harrington Charm (5 times +1)

Eddie the witch?? (This one grew in scale over the last few days I'm not gonna lie) and a secret fifth option...

vamp!Eddie extended universe (Steve's Got a Date turned into a series today. Based on very loose ideas so we're kinda winging it here. bat pun intended.)

✨THE SNIPPET✨

From the Steddie Witch AU. I was gonna post this from the WIP poll anyway so, consider it a twofer. Slightly gory under the cut

It didn’t take long to find the problem, and it definitely was not a rabbit.

“Steve?” Eddie asked, bewildered at the sight in front of him.

He realized he probably shouldn’t have distracted Steve from what he was doing—which appeared to be a fight to the death with a slathering, grunting, emaciated looking near-corpse of a creature.

Eddie would have been spending his time trying to discern what the hell it was if he weren’t so distracted by the sight of Steve.

He was shirtless, in nothing but sweatpants and his bare feet, covered in blood and dirt and sweat. He was using a bat studded with nails to fend off the zombie-like thing that was after him, but he didn’t seem very willing to land a killing blow. Instead he kept jabbing at it without much force, trying to shoo it more than take it out.

“A little help?” Steve greeted in a tone full of mock cheer. He was out of breath and near doubled over, like he’d been trapped in a dance with a monster for a while already.

Eddie wasn’t much for combative magic, truth be told. He was much better at setting up protective shields (though those were certainly taking a beating tonight) and making healing salves and other...tinctures.

But when his devastatingly handsome neighbor needed help, Eddie was willing to give it a shot.

Steve lost his footing on the follow through of another swing of his bat. The scraggly and opportunistic thing he was battling took the advantage without hesitating, wrestling Steve to the ground in a disturbingly fast movement. Just as it trapped Steve in a choke hold, Eddie finally unfroze, scrambling into action with the best spell he could muster on the tip of his tongue.

In the same moment, the thing raised its head to look at Eddie for the first time. Eddie felt its eyes staring right down into his soul just as it let out an unholy howl.

Tags: look...everyone's been tagged already, right? if not, consider this me tagging you

#steddie #wip weekend #witch au #the wips

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shanie · 5 months

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OK, so this isn't just yeeting pasta at this point, this is me just writing because I want to put positivity in the world for a change.

Anyway, sample of an idea for a story I have involving a new OC I'm workshopping named Abuela Carla. It takes place in July of 2004 and I don't even know where in the numbering of 'Of Masks Mice and Men' this would fall. After the first, definitely, but the tidbit I last shared comes BEFORE this (and is the story where Carla is introduced). So yeah, this contains spoilers for other WIPs that haven't been posted yet, so whatever. It's rated G though and is as warm and fuzzy as they get.

Story Title (for now): Wishes Come True

Birthdays were... days.

Sometimes, El Generico had great days. Days where everything seemed to go right. He would win his match, sometimes a couple, or he’d find a five dollar bill on the ground by the laundromat with nobody around who it might belong to. Sometimes, there were *really* great days, like the day he got his new apartment, that Generico didn’t even realize were the best days yet, they just had promise. Promises of better days to come, of better times to come.

Some days just had a warm feeling to them like everything would be ok.

But other days just... sucked.

The day that Generico won the IWS title, a month prior, had qualified as one of those days.

He’d been so happy. Finally, he was champion! Everything was going to be great! He would take the title home and put it on his TV tray to look at, and every time he saw it he would smile knowing he made it.

He hadn’t even gotten it home.

Kevin, beautiful, cruel Kevin, had stolen it from him moments later.

Generico didn’t understand. How could Kevin be like that? Sure, they fought. That was what they did. And sure, there was that one time Kevin had given him a concussion on purpose, but still. Kevin had given him food. And, ok, so that was one time, but there was just something about Kevin, something that Generico couldn’t understand, he was so... so...

Wonderful.

Like a beautiful thunderstorm that would light up the night sky and make the flowers grow.

But that night, Kevin had been cruel, taking his title off him before he could even really enjoy it.

His Abuela had been at ringside. She was proud, she always was.

But he wanted to make her prouder.

It was a bad day.

There had been plenty of bad days since then and troublingly few good ones.

So when Generico’s birthday came around yet again, in the middle of July as always, he wasn’t expecting much. It was another day and, considering when he woke up that morning it was dismal and overcast outside without any rain to go out and enjoy, he was expecting it to be a bad one.

He was twenty.

Twenty years old and, no, he wasn’t doing too poorly. He had his own apartment, which was amazing. It was the best feeling ever having his own place. But money had been so tight that he barely had any to send home.

His poor family. He’d come to Canada to give them a better life and, even with him pinching every penny and barely keeping enough to feed himself, there just wasn’t enough to send back home that would make a difference.

Sometimes, when his Abuela would have him over to watch Raw and Smackdown, he would dream of being there, wrestling in front of thousands and making thousands, so much money that he could send home. Anything to keep his family fed.

They deserved the world, his family, and he’d do anything to give it to them. He’d endure so many bad days if it meant they could have good ones.

They meant everything to him. Them and his Abuela. His reasons to keep going, to wake up in the morning. As long as he had them, he would be ok. The sun would rise, and they would be there, wherever they were, to see it with him.

And that was the best thing in the whole world.

But there had been no sun to watch rise from his window that morning, so he wasn’t expecting much as far as birthdays went.

So, mid afternoon when he heard his Abuela’s knock on the door, he was excited to see her, but not expecting anything special.

“¡Little one!” She greeted him in Spanish, “¿Did you do as I asked?”

Generico was confused. “What?”

“¡The space! ¿Did you clear the space like I asked?”

Oh! Right!

The night before, Abuela had told him to clean the floor in the corner of his living room. He didn’t know why, so he hadn’t done so, but there she was asking if he had and he kind of felt bad about it.

“No,” Generico replied, hanging and shaking his head.

Carla looked past him into the apartment, then back to him.

“¡Go!” she told him urgently, “Hurry. Go make a space. ¡GO!”

Generico wasn’t going to argue, rushing inside and quickly cleaning up the corner where he’d tossed his gear from the weekend before in expectation of washing it as soon as he had the money. He picked up the comic books that he’d left there, well worn and loved. He didn’t have money for many of them, but the store down the street had the Undertaker ones from a few years back on discount and he’d treated himself to the first three.

He set aside the empty boxes that he’d been saving – Generico always saved boxes, the really good ones made nice tables – and carefully moved the thrift store lamp that he’d set on the floor in the corner.

When he was done, there was a nice open space for... well, whatever Abuela had in mind. Maybe she had gotten him some groceries? He was running low on noodles and chicken, and oooh, maybe she bought him one of those boxes of snack cakes? The ones with the chocolate? Those were amazing.

There was another knock at the door, Abuela’s knock, and this time he hurried excitedly to answer it.

“Abuela!” Generico exclaimed... and then stopped.

“Apportez-le ici, les garçons,” Carla said to the large, bulky men standing behind her in the hallway.

They looked a bit scary. The one had tattoos on his arms, and was tall, while the other reminded him a bit of Kevin.

But it wasn’t their looks that stopped him in his tracks. It was what they were holding.

A table. A dining table. The most beautiful dining table Generico had ever seen.

“¿Well?” Carla asked, returning to Spanish and startling Generico from his thoughts, “¿Are you going to let them in, or are you going to keep blocking the door?”

Generico moved.

Silently, carefully, as if he moved too much the promise of the day would be stolen from him like his title was. But, somehow, someway, the large men brought the table into his apartment with Carla following.

“Juste là, dans le coin,” Carla added and, while Generico didn’t understand much French at all, his Abuela’s gestures to the cleaned-out corner, followed by the men positioning the table there made the meaning clear enough.

So much promise.

The day was so... so...

Generico felt his whole body tense.

It was too much promise. There was no way it could be real but, sure enough, moments later the men left and returned shortly after with three matching chairs for the table. Those too went in the corner.

His corner. HIS CORNER.

When the men left, and Carla closed and locked the door behind them, Generico was nervous. He didn’t mean to be, but something was wrong. Did the men steal the table for him? Carla was speaking French, they couldn’t have been anyone she normally helped, but the men were big. Maybe they had stolen it. Maybe someone was going to come and steal it back.

There was no way he could ever own a table that nice. He certainly hadn’t paid for it or earned it.

But... it was certainly nice to look at in his corner.

Slowly, gently, he ran his fingers along the hardwood top. It was smooth and and solid, nothing like his TV tray that kept getting knocked over. And there was a beautiful stain to it that reflected the dim overhead light, although, there... there was a scratch along the top, clear as day.

He traced his finger along the scratch.

It was beautiful. But it wasn’t his.

It wasn’t his table. It couldn’t be. But he could pretend for a bit at lea–

“The table is yours, Generico,” Abuela Carla told him impossibly.

Generico looked at her. She was speaking Spanish, but the words sounded strange.

“What?” he returned.

“Apologies that it only has three chairs. The fourth was missing when I purchased it. That’s *how* I purchased it, along with the scratches. It’s not perfect but, I was hoping that you could enjoy it anyway. You could certainly use a nice piece of furniture in here. Something besides your air mattress and stuff from curbside.”

Generico began to shake.

“Happy birthday, little one.”

There were... tears? Welling up in his eyes?

Generico was confused. Why was he crying? It was turning out to be a great day, so much promise, why was he sad? It didn’t make sense...

He felt his knees begin to wobble but, before he could fall, there Abuela was, guiding him to one of the new chairs, oh, they were so solid under him and suddenly he was crying more...

#WIP #Shanie's fanfiction #Shanie's fanfic #The Generico!verse #El Generico #Kevin Steen

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x-authorship-x · 1 year

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I read your thoughts about Shisui/Tobirama and I am totally hyped.🥰 Might it be possible to get a tiny snippet about Tobirama being "enamoured" by Shisui? If not, it's totally ok.

Hey Anon, I'm glad you enjoyed my theorising! 🥰

Hmmm, I don't have anything established or enamoured 🥺 but I do have a snippet from another meeting between them? Its a Soulmate AU WIP I don't plan on posting (it's just not cooperating and I think it's a bust), so if you ask nicely I might spill some more 🤭

Tobirama’s gaze dragged sideways just in time to catch spinning Sharingan eyes unlike anything he’d ever seen before. They rested in a pale face, dried blood smearing over one cheekbone. A mop of ebony curls held back by a metal headband engraved with an unknown symbol. A widening grin that showcased two sets of the deepest dimples Tobirama had ever seen, the emotion displayed an obvious mockery of the severity of this new threat.

(Something in his senses, seeking, meeting, recognising-)

The katana didn't skewer Izuna, finally felling a foe too dangerous to be allowed to keep breathing.

No, the stranger did the impossible; running faster than the cutting-edge, space-time fuinjutsu of the Hiraishin.

He deflected it.

Time restarted.

Tobirama skidded as soon as his feet touched the ground again, digging in his heels and dragging his momentum round in a sharp turn. He was just fast enough to catch the blur of the stranger as he planted a sandal between Izuna’s shoulderblades and booted him clear across the field, where he landed with a shriek of rage on top of both Madara and Hashirama.

That was the two strongest Uchiha against his brother-

Tobirama tensed his thighs to launch himself after his opponent, only for the stranger to plant himself, faster than Tobirama could see but just slow enough for his senses to register, directly in his path again.

In his hand, he wielded a simple tantō.

“Senju Tobirama,” the stranger started, still smiling as if the sight of Tobirama was the best thing he’d ever laid eyes on. And those eyes- "I've been wanting to meet you for a long time."

Tobirama’s chakra fluctuated, resisting the usual iron-clad control he maintained on his core, and Tobirama ruthlessly wrestled himself into submission. He was a Shinobi before everything, and having a reaction changed nothing about the threat this second Uchiha presented.

Tobirama levelled his sword and refused to falter. “You interrupted my jutsu, Uchiha.”

He was undeniably one of them, his strange Sharingan as different as Madara and Izuna's variations were from the standard trio of tomoe. Even discounting how other he was - a tattoo on his exposed bicep, no Uchiha emblem but that same leaf engraved on his greaves and chest-guard - Tobirama could taste that specific flavour of fire-smoke-spice in his chakra that denoted Uchiha heritage. Even if his chakra cycled faster than anyone Tobirama had ever seen outside of a rare, enraged Hyuuga.

“I'm sorry, I've no doubt it would've been very impressive. That seal looks like a masterpiece.” He managed to convey genuine admiration, whatever his ploy was. “But I want lasting peace and letting you kill Madara-sama’s remaining brother would be pretty counterproductive.”

Tobirama tried to split his focus on how Hashirama was faring - Touka’s signature had raced over to support from one side, they were lucky that Hikaku wasn't present to face her today - but, for the first time since he was a child overwhelmed by Hashirama’s presence… Tobirama wasn't fully able to.

His every sense, physical and chakra alike, were honed on the Shinobi before him.

Tobirama tempered his breathing.

“Peace? The Uchiha have no appetite for anything but violence. And I have no reason to ever believe you, Uchiha.”

Hashirama could - would - take people for face value. Tobirama… couldn't. Everything was a trick, a ploy, had a price, and he’d paid it in blood and tears and the lives of his brothers because no ceasefire ever lasted and Tobirama wouldn't lose Hashirama as well.

“Shisui.”

The stranger - Shisui, Uchiha Shisui, and there was a errant thought noting how it meant ‘death water’, a match to Tobirama's own moniker of ‘Water Death’ - didn't do anything foolish, like lower his blade, but his expression remained open. Intentionally so. He wanted Tobirama to tear his words apart and check the validity of his earnestness. Even his chakra didn't contract away from Tobirama’s keen sensing, in fact it was leaning in-

"My name's Shisui and if it's a reason to trust the Uchiha that you're looking for…"

His eyes didn't match. In his peripheral vision, Tobirama could see that the left was the usual Sharingan-red but, instead of tomoe, had a thick, turning pinwheel around a crimson pupil. The right, however, was much more complex, a lattice overlaying the whole design, and the chakra that surged to the Dojutsu was massively lopsided, the right eye drawing so much more…

“-well, I’m hoping you recognise the resonance as much as I do. I wasn't expecting it, let me tell you now, but I can't say I’m upset to be paired with someone as impressive as you."

Enjoy! Sorry it's not fluffy 😅

#torship #torship talks #torship writes #ask #anon #shisui/tobirama

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bluewren · 1 year

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WIP Wednesday

Thanks for the tag!! @effelants and @theluckywizard🥰

This has been a fic that I've been slowly poking at in between a bunch of other fics. LOL

This is post-Trespasser, Taliesen still talks to Solas in the Fade, unfortunately this time it's about the Regret Demon.🥲 -----

She closes her eyes, the last thing that enters is the cool light from the twin moons of Thedas. It did not take long for Taliesen to drift away, she was ensnared by a force unseen and tugging her on a road of soft cotton to another plane. The first hint that she has arrived is the warm morning light rubbing on her eyes and the swaying of a tree branch’s shadow.

“You always knew the best places to take me to.” Tali yawns, tossing and turning her head on Solas’s thigh.

She wrestles a chuckle out from Solas, in return Solas runs his bare hands through the gold strands of her hair. Gentle as he combs through the individual strands, something that’s done long ago during her doubly tiring days.

“Wake up. There is much that we should discuss.” Taliesen groans and scrunches her eyes further shut. Solas continues to coo. “Please Vh… Lethallan.”

“It’s your fault for giving me back my tree.” Tali digs her head deeper into Solas’s thighs. “I can’t even describe what it’s like to nap beneath that shade again.” She lets out another yawn. “Do you believe me when I say that this is the one thing I miss from Skyhold?”

“There are a great many things that I wish can stay as they are.” Solas tucks his arms under her’s and closer to Tali, just as much wanting this moment to stay longer. “But we will not be allowed to have that.”

“Sera’s right.” Taliesen continues to rub her head. “Elves are bony. I miss your lap.”

“It’s remarkable, you’ve summoned the urge to sleep right after entering the Fade.” Solas isn’t mad, simply stroking the ends of her hair as she rested.

“You sleep to enter the Fade, I just rather return to sleeping.”

“That is correct.” Solas chuckles, her eyes are closed but Taliesen can still tell he’s smiling. “Although there isn’t a further realm beyond the Fade to be reached by simple resting further.”

Taliesen suddenly built a overwhelming urge to correct him on that, technically it is possible to find places only possible to reach if they knew ways to how to reach it, archives that spirits kept for themselves. Sera has told her of one trip, she herself has done something similar previously with Solas.

She swallows that urge, not wanting to break the fragile serenity that have now.

Taliesen breaths out a subdued sigh. “I don’t need to, this is perfect.”

“As much as I wish for that, it is something that will be within our reach.” His voice slowly lowers to a whisper as though choking back a lump in his dried coarse throat.

Their world changes once more, she can feel the cotton leggings that her head rested against melt away, flexing into soft linen for her to fall into. A tingling itch runs down her left shoulder to hand as the individual points of the grassfield are felt.

Taliesen makes a disappointing frown when she sees her hand return, the sensation feels so real to her. Every tug to ball her fist, she can feel the contractions of her muscles. For a moment, the phantom pain she still felt was a distant memory. Her body feels whole, but somehow she feels weaker than the days when the Inquisition was still in power. As fervent as she struggled to keep grounded, the Fade will still always be clay molded by a dreamer.

“What is it that you wanted to talk about?”

#wip wednesday

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r0ryy · 1 year

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🤲🎶and🧠 for Sokrates and/or Cassander

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

I do not listen to music while I write, I have to tune my whole brain in to what I'm working on to focus. But I have been listening to Unreal Unearth on repeat, especially De Selby (Part 2) and Unknown/Nth.

🧠 Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them.

For Sokrates, I like to think they look really different from their siblings, but out of the three of them they look the most like the Apokine. I imagine Cass (who looks like how I draw them) and Euanthe look so similar they could be mistaken for twins. Sokrates in my mind has a flatter face and a short, well-kept beard. I also think they have dark, curly hair that they cut short just before their betrayal. I think it's traditional for Apostolisian nobility to keep their hair long, and Sokrates wearing their hair short when they come home with Integrity is a noticeable statement of them trying to distance themself from that class of people.

I also hc that a lot of the work Sokrates did during the Golden War was in logistics: resource management, shipping, etc. When Appstolos started to really lose ground during the final years, Euanthe put them in charge of civilian evacuations.

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

Hehehe if you insist! Here's a snippet from the unnecessarily long Cass character study I'm working on. God willing it'll be done by the end of September.

Cass gathers speed slowly, swinging Arete’s arms to counterbalance. They try to remember what the Apokine was like before their spouse’s death. Cass recalls them being serious, but not unkind. Euanthe had clearly been their favorite, Cass knew it even then, but they did not deny their other children attention.

He remembers them being a calm, if somewhat removed, presence on their outings. Watching from the shore as Cassander would team up with their siblings to wrestle iita down in the shallows until they were all howling with laughter. Lysander would wriggle free, scoop up one of their children, and throw them back into the sea, then chase the other two down as they ran shrieking through the waves.

Cass breaks into a jog, then a run, and then they are sprinting through the desert. They throw on Arete’s jets and the sudden blast of speed makes their chest thrill. This thing is fast.

Their feet leave the ground as the flight propulsion system roars to life and sends them rocketing up into the sky. Cass cranks it just to see how fast they can go and are immediately plastered to the cockpit from the g-force. It wrenches a laugh out of their chest and they cut the jets, bringing the colossus up in a long arc, sailing through a backflip just to feel the way the change in gravity lifts their hair. Then they turn over and dive, screaming towards the surface of the planet until they wrench up at the last second, a full body maneuver that sends Arete blasting out across the sand.

As fast as it is, it’s incredible how smoothly the colossus flies. Even without the automated suites running, the mech is so perfectly balanced that maneuvering feels effortless. Cass zig-zags through the low, craggy valleys that surround Centralia, turning on a dime just to admire Arete’s precision.

They sweep a long arc towards a dried-out riverbed and browse through the defensive systems. The mech has three primary weapons; a marbline spear and shield, swarm missile pods, and a plasma line launcher. A counter for close, medium, and long range combatants. It’s a tactician’s colossus, designed to exercise absolute battlefield control.

Cass wonders offhandedly if the Apokine was as bad of a shot as he is. He pulls up the targeting suite and finds that it’s configured to leave little margin for pilot adjustments. With a wry, sad smile, Cass figures that yeah, they probably were. One more piece of information to slot into an incomplete puzzle.

#r0ryy posts #i need to draw all the pelagios siblings one day #asks #one day this fic will be done #that poll i ran forever ago about one 15k chalter vs three 5k chapters was about this #ive settled on it needing to be one chapter so it's still gonna be awhile before it's ready to post #but i'm plugging away at it #slowly but surely

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brasideios · 1 year

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WIP Game: A Story Set in Sparta and Eukleidas, please!

Happy to oblige 😊

Eukleidas, also subtitled The Wrestler, is little more than the first stirrings of a new story, a couple pages long atm.

It begins:

The thunder rolled across the sky, reverberating and amplified in the colonnade overlooking the palaestra. Eukleidas paused on his path towards the wooden archway which led out onto the Hyakinthian Way, almost bewitched by the sudden intensity of the downpour; his ears crowded with the muted hammering of rain against roof tiles, the air filled with the heady scent of rain hitting dry ground, parched after the long dry of summer. He was carrying a faded red chiton and he began to absently wipe away the copious sweat from his shoulders and face, reddened by the just-won bout of wrestling, and saw blood come away from his ear. He dabbed at it again, but as usual, it bled for only a moment. His ears had been damaged so many times, it was almost as though they’d given up trying to contain blood.

A Story Set in Sparta is an accumulation of scenes that I've felt compelled to write over the last few years about Brasidas' life before the beginning of the war, and is focused on him, his foster brother Adimantos, and his first wife, Nikaia. I don't know if it will ever be finished; I tinker with it now and then, and think about it a lot.

Anyway - this is how they meet:

Nikaia was so lost in thought that she wasn’t paying attention to what was going on around her; and the next thing she knew, she was sprawled in the dust with an older boy, a shooting pain in her head where it'd hit the ground, and both knees stinging, no doubt skinned on the stony road surface. She pushed him off, close to tears, but determined not to cry. As she scrambled back to her feet, she snapped, Look where you’re going! He’d picked himself up, and turned to face her. You look where you’re going! From the same direction, another boy appeared, taller and more angular in his features. He was holding a fabric bag, filled with what may have been bread, or perhaps vegetables of some kind. He saw her looking and tucked it behind his back. He hissed with great urgency, Brasidas! We have to go! Brasidas. She would remember that. Erata had hurried up. Are you alright, Nikaia? Brasidas looked from the other boy, to her. He said with a suddenly disarming and entirely charming smile, I apologise for knocking you down, Nikaia. Then he was gone, his bare feet flying as he and his friend ducked away; a moment later an older boy, perhaps a new hebonte, came around the corner while Erata was still examining the lump on her head. Did two boys run this way? He asked brusquely. No, Nikaia said promptly. I think I saw them run down that alleyway. She pointed back the way he'd come, to a place where the road led into one of the side streets of Pitana. Thank you, he said, nodding, and turning back. When he was gone, Erata stood and looked at her strangely. Why did you lie? Nikaia shrugged guiltily. He didn’t mean to knock me down… she paused a moment before adding, and I feel sorry for the boys. They always look so hungry. They turned back towards home, Nikaia walking carefully, wincing at each step. Erata didn't say so, but she thought that this was the first time she had seen her young charge act selflessly, truly kindly. She knew no Spartan should think that way - the boys were meant to suffer, it was what made them warriors; but to her, it had always looked like cruelty - cruelty that had destroyed her life.

#tag game #wips #Eukleidas #AStorySetinSparta #original fiction

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madmarchhare · 2 years

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New Book: I'm writing something that will either be a novel or novella, so here is the first chapter!

Name is WIP but at the moment it's called 'Changes a Man' I would REALLY welcome suggestions. Hope you all like it, I may or may not release some of the other chapters on here as well.

CHAPTER I: OPENING MANUVERS

I had never really liked the idea of war. It was one of those things that you heard good things about from everyone bar those who had actually experienced it. But, a friend of mine thoroughly rejected that opinion, calling out how he would join the army as soon as he was fit to. I humoured him, as friends often do, knowing it was not an argument I could win with him. But, then he told me of the wages.

I think myself of a good and decent man, but I do not have the spending of one.

I didn’t quite yet know what I wanted to do with myself at the time, so, I thought I should serve my term as a soldier. Earn my pay, then move onto something else when I had made up my mind. I had always had a talent for mathematics and geography, I had learned to read maps from my father, so they made me an artillerist. I expected that I would spend my tour marching about the country from training exercise to training exercise, the odd celebration calling for our services. Maybe an orchestra.

Then we were at war. My country had been at war before of course, rampaging across the continent carrying the banner of republicanism, the head of our late Queen spiked at it’s top. At the end of it all, and a number of revolutionary convulsions that wracked the country like bloody fits, there was peace. Peace was what my grandfather died in, what my father lived through and all I had known, bar for some conflict in the peripheries of the world you only heard about on an idle whisper. I was not prepared for it, I doubted our Assemblies and generals were either, despite their posturing.

Where that now leaves me is stood amidst a flock of fifty artillery pieces near a large forest, my fingers stuffed into my ears in a fruitless attempt to shut out the thunderous cannon fire. You’ll never hear anything lounder than artillery. No sound made by man or by nature could overshadow it. Not even the cacophonous rolling of thunder could match the roar of those steel beasts, as I had witnessed during one particularly horrible day. Which was likely why we could not have heard them sooner.

Suddenly I heard a taught snap below the thundering of the artillery. I turned around to look at the sound, concerned that one of the tents had fallen over from the blasts. I saw instead a squad of enemy infantry, dressed in their dark green, red sashes pulled in a cross over their chests. Their faces were grizzled, many unshaven or bloody, maddened looks of fury pulled over them-the looks of someone who had finally laid their hands upon a hated enemy. It was quite clear who that enemy was.

One charged straight at me, his sword drawn as I reached for my revolver calling out, “Enemy attack!” He swung the sword down and I raised my left arm up to block it, feeling the steel cut deep into it, gritting my teeth. I wrestled with him for a moment as he forced me down, pressing down on me with his sword making me seize my jaws shut from pain. I fumbled about my holster, searching for the grip of my revolver, tugging at the latch to try and open it, likely not doing anything.

Then, I suddenly felt his sword slip past the final shaft of bone just as I found the grip of my revolver. I snatched it from it’s place, cocking its’ hammer in the same movement and gestured it at the man, not bothering to aim. I fired just as his sword slashed through the last sliver of my arm, severing it as its’ tip cut down the front of my chest just as his head flung backward from my bullet that punched into it. I screamed through my clenched teeth, dropping my revolver to the ground to clutch at what was left of my severed arm. I snapped around to look at my comrades and saw them being gunned down or simply flinging up their arms in surrender. Many of them far to late to be noticed.

I spun on my heel and ran, jumping over the lump of a corpse I had left for the crows. I ran to the forest, the opposite side to where the other soldiers had crept up upon us from. I heard shouts being flung after me, along with shots thrown ahead of me, skipping up clumps of earth or pinging off dumped shell casings. I ran past the trees, running as fast as I could, slipping and stumbling as my boots found every patch of wet moss or wire thick clump of brambles they could. I ran for longer than I had ever in my life, the taste of copper smothering my tongue as I tried to gulp down as many breaths as I could.

How many more did I have left?

Then, after a while I noticed that the only sound I was left with was the pounding of my own feet. I slowed down, darting my head over my shoulder to look for where my pursuers had gone. I hoped I had lost them, and stopped. Then suddenly every thing that I had pushed to the back of my mind in my panic caught me, leaping upon me like a fox hound. The pain in my arm and from my chest burned through me, I threw up from the pain, coughing as I gasped for air, only aggravating my slashed chest. My legs stung from the use, as did my feet, threatening to fall out from under me.

I wanted a rest, I wanted to lay down. I just needed a breather. Just a minute then I would be fine.

“No. No, I can’t stop now,” I wheezed out to myself, clutching at my arm to try and stem the bleeding, “if I stop now I’ll be dead. If they cant find me, then no one else will either.”

I just needed to find some help, then I would be fine. I assured myself, hobbling forward still, my vision slowly blurring, twisting the forest before me. I just needed a doctor, someone who could help. I closed my eyes for a second, forcing them open again quickly so they it wouldn’t be the last time. Then before me was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Tall and thin, with a timeless figure, her face was warm with smiling lips and welcoming eyes all under a bloom of golden locks that hung to her shoulders.

She wore a long white dress that seemed to flutter from some wind my tired body could not feel. She extended her arm and laid and open palm to me, beckoning me. I looked up at her with blurry eyes, a smile falling across my face from relief as I placed my remaining hand into hers. She closed her hand on it tightly, but no so much that it was a discomfort, then pulled me after her.

The ground seemed so much smoother. No odd stones or roots to threaten to send my face to meet with them. No hanging nooses of brambles or young branches waiting to whip me as I was pulled along. I felt at peace, far more than I had felt at any point in my adult life, let alone during this bastard of a war.

As she pulled me along, I noticed how heavy my eyelids suddenly felt, like a pair of battleships anchored over my watery eyes. It was hard to keep them afloat, I looked ahead at the heavenly figure of the woman as they slowly sank down over my darkening vision.

Then, suddenly, they felt as light as air, letting me snap them open. When I did, I noticed that, quite oddly, everything had suddenly either doubled or trebled in height. I looked around at the small clearing that the woman had brought me into. The next thing I noticed that the pain in my arm was gone. I turned to look over to it and confirmed that there was in fact an arm again. It wasn’t my arm however. I felt panic race through my mind, turning to look at the hand that was still in the grip of the taller woman.

She was still taller, but now, her arm was hung down like when a mother held a child’s hand. The hand she specifically held was furry, with claws, fur reaching partway down the arm before ending like a glove. It was fantastical, like something one would read from a children’s book or would hear whispering about when the washing was hung.

And it was attached firmly to me, as was the arm I had only just lost in the same pattern. I snatched my hand from her grip, panic gripping me even tighter as the strange appendage followed my order, confirming it was my own. I clutched at it with my other arm, staring at it, my mouth gripped in a grimace, breathing hard as I panicked.

I snapped my gaze up to look at the woman, quickly channelling all of my panic into aimless fury, “What did you do to me?!” I screamed out at her, the voice that left my mouth of a far higher pitch than my own, not helping matters. She looked down, down!, at me with an expression somewhere between plain and mirthful.

“I saved your life.” She replied back softly, the tenor of her voice dewy with a sort of false kindness that made you feel as if you had been made a fool of.

“What, by changing my arms into dog legs?” I snapped back, trying to put as much vitriol into my gaze as I could. But she simply gave a chuckle in response.

“That’s not all I changed,” she responded an evil smirk falling over her lips, one that made the blood drain from my face. I flicked my gaze back down over myself. The first thing I noticed that everything hadn’t suddenly gotten much larger. I had simply gotten much smaller. I was left at three feet of height, maybe a little more, my uniform replaced by a vaguely similar short sleeved jacket, along with a pair of knee high shorts.

The legs that protruded from the shorts however far more resembled the hindlegs of a large lion or beast than anything that should belong to a man. They were long, finishing in a pair of small paws clad in pale blonde fur that was practically white. And they most definitely were a part of me, I could feel the paw pads, my paws, touching the grass beneath me.

Fear raced even faster through my mind, flooding every section of it, almost drowning my common sense as it suffocated my thoughts. I threw my hands up to my face, feeling it for any difference, and there was. It was far rounder and softer than it had been, like a child’s face, a mouth full of sharp teeth, and a nose that ended like a dogs on my face. I flung them onto the top of my head, finding my trimmed black hair had been replaced by a mess of bone blonde hair, the same colour as th-my fur. A far nastier surprise there was the discovery of two pairs of ears, giving me four in total, all fluffy and long like rabbits ears completely covered by fur, sticking out from the side of my head in a v pattern. I could feel them moving with from my panic, which did not help. The final act of cruelty the universe reminded me of was the feeling of something swishing about from my backside, making me turn around to see a long, thin tail that exceeded my height in length with a crest of fluff at the ends, all covered in fur.

It was hard to breathe, I felt like a tree had fallen across my chest, that or my lungs had fallen out of my chest through the slash I had been given and I was in hell. I snapped my gaze up to look at the woman, breathing hard, only just holding back tears as I stared up at her with fury burning behind my eyes, which felt distinctly larger than they had before. She looked down at me with a scoffing expression, seeming to be enjoying herself, a hand held beneath her chin as she chuckled.

“Change me back, change me back dammit!” I roared out, lunging forward on one of my new legs, stumbling as I did, only just managing to remain standing. She just laughed in response, a shrill, shattering laugh, like a Baroness watching a comedy, some trifle thing to amuse her.

“Why would I ever do that? You came into my forest, you took my hand and gave me your blood,” she replied as she walked closer, leaning down to me, her sultry voice now sending a shiver down my spine, “you were mine to play with. It serves you right for firing all those horrible little guns of yours next to me.” She finished, her voice cold, cupping the bottom of my face in one hand as I tried to recoil in fear but was left paralyzed.

She let her hand fall away after a moment and turned, beginning to walk away. I scrambled forward, stumbling and falling to my knees, flinging out an arm towards her, “please! Don’t do this to me! I don’t care if you leave me one armed, one legged, one eyed or mute but just don’t leave me like this! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you, I was just following orders, please!” I cried out, crawling after her, panic shaking my voice as it echoed around the small clearing.

She turned around to me with an evil little smile, “No, I find this far more interesting, oh what’s the word for it, schadenfreude.” She waved her fingers at me, then placed one foot into the air as she seemed to twist into it then rush invisible out into the forest accompanied by singing laugher on the wind and the rustle of the trees. I stared out where she had vanished, feeling hot tears fall from my eyes as every emotion from despair and disbelief to fury and hatred slammed against my mind in a great flood.

I wasn’t given a moment to grieve either. Suddenly the echoing yells of soldiers ran into my ears, making me snap my head around to where I had heard them. The foreign words and calls charged out from the trees and I knew that soon their creators would come chasing after them. I scrambled to my feet and ran forward, stumbling and tripping like a new born dear, grabbing at trees and branches to keep myself upright as I darted away through the twists and hollows of that wood accompanied by the shouts of my pursuers and the howls of beasts in the forest, tears drying on my face as soon as they left my large eyes.

I wondered whether surrendering my life would have been wiser than loosing my humanity. But, I did not stop running.

Any questions on character design or otherwise are welcome either on here or just on the ask bit.

@agarespicero

@sleepy-gry

@irumeanie

@gaap-goemon-ismylife

@momonoki-a-real-teacher

@psycho-zom-atic

@jemimacatclover

@shaoron

@pemopemochimi

#writers and poets #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writblr #writing #HMAD #fiction

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joemerl · 1 year

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Writer's Month 2023, Day 8: "Watermelon"

Original fiction, specifically "the Werewolf WIP" Status/Word count: Complete, 612 words. Author's notes: Seriously, I've got scientific backing on this.

It was funny, really. Roger had been changing for three years now, and only now learned that wolves weren’t actually carnivores.

His eight-year-old son Randall grunted as he lowered the second watermelon onto the ground. “You sure we can eat this?”

“Sure I’m sure! I told you—wolves are whatchacallit. They can eat plants and animals.”

“Omnivores,” Randall said. “I mean, don’t we gotta cut 'em first?”

Roger frowned. “I don’t think so. The pictures I saw, they chewed through the green part. Shouldn’t be hard, with teeth that can break a deer’s neck. Huh, little cub?” he said, giving his son a playful slap on the arm.

Randall thought about that, and asked “Are we still hunting this week?” His tone made it clear that he was hoping for a “no.”

“Yeah, probably.” Roger didn’t sound so cheerful anymore. “Even a whole watermelon for each of us ain’t gonna last the weekend. Maybe we can get by catching some rabbits,” he murmured.

The sun continued to set as they finished getting ready—setting up their camp, saying a quick prayer, and finally taking off their clothes and storing them in the tent. Then the light vanished below the treetops, and father and son gave a unisonous wince as fur sprouted from their skin and their bones began to shift and change in their bodies.

Randall, now a small wolf with mostly black and gray fur, shook his head and took a moment to adjust to his new form. As always, the air was full of smells. Dirt. Trees. All the squirrels and raccoons and rabbits that had run through their clearing in the last few days. Their own human scent from a minute ago.

And watermelon rind. You don’t really think about that smell when you’re a human, but it was crisp and clear to the nose of a wolf.

Randall trotted over to the twin fruits, sitting incongruously in the middle of their clearing. Roger—now a larger wolf with rusty red fur—followed. Randall looked back, silently asking if they should have their treat now. Roger chuffed in a way that said “why not?”

Randall looked the round fruit over, trying to find a spot, and then bit down at random. His fangs pierced it easily, but he wrestled with it, using his paws to try and keep it from rolling all over. His father chuckled behind him. You wouldn’t think a wolf could chuckle, but a werewolf apparently could.

Randall tore off part of the rind. He chewed, only belatedly realizing that he was eating the green part with the red. It softened quickly in his wolfish jaws, not so much hard as chewy. It didn’t taste as good as the red part, the part you were supposed to eat, but he tore off another bit, swallowing the seeds with the fruit. He’d gotten used to eating weird stuff as a wolf.

Roger went to his own snack, and for a moment the two of them ate, their tearing and slurping filling the darkening camp. Eventually Randall glanced over at his father. Half of his watermelon was gone now, and his snout was buried in the remainder. Randall watched as he tore a chunk out, his furry jowls dripping with juice, and chewed. Wolf mouths aren't really designed for chewing the human way. All you can do is open and close it repeatedly, like a puppet.

Now it was Randall’s turn to chuckle. He couldn’t help it. It just looked so silly.

Roger looked over, and they both started snickering. It sounded more like the hiccups than real laughter, and the sound of werewolves uncontrollably hiccup-laughing made the whole thing even funnier.

#WritersMonth2023 #The OTHER novel that I'm supposedly writing #Werewolf #Werewolves #Watermelon #Wolf #Wolves #Nature #Animals

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ageless-soul-au · 3 years

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Confidential - Meeting Fable

1913 words, this portion is rated G -- WIP!!! Full work to be posted once it’s done! (the rating on the full work will probably be M, lmaoooo)

There was a little interest in posting an excerpt, so here’s one! It’s early on in Confidential, and Wind, Hyrule, and Warriors have known Legend for... maaaaybe a week. Legend is just now relaxing into not being obscenely prickly and starting to see Warriors is a person and not just a soldier, but he’s not quite comfortable with them yet. Right before they change eras, Legend says goodbye to his totally-not-sister, the Princess of Hyrule.

Enjoy!

....Pspspsps.... For @mrowtastic, thank you for replying! We are holding you very gently...

“So does that mean we’re going?” Legend asked.

"Unless you'd like to make any stops," Warriors said, "to your Zelda for example, or anyone who isn't a cretin like those soldiers that you might miss."

….He could go see Zelda. He’d told Ravio to tell her where he’d went, and to go see her meant he’d have to go to the castle and encounter more soldiers, but… he was going to miss her and a brief visit wouldn’t hurt, especially since the last time he’d gone away for a quest, he hadn’t come back for a long time… and he and Ravio had already bid their goodbyes, but they were so close to both the castle and his house….

Hyrule noticed his hesitance. “You do want to see people.”

Legend stared at the ground and tapped the toe of his boot against the grass. “....We’d have to cut through the castle grounds… but it wouldn’t take long if you all were fine with it. I’ve said my goodbyes if you want to get moving.”

"I'm fine with it," Wind said. "Always wanted to sneak through castle property! We don't have any castles in my Hyrule anymore."

"I don't mind it either," Hyrule said.

That just left Warriors, who nonchalantly said it was fine by him too, or he wouldn't have suggested it in the first place, but he wouldn't look at Legend.

Thanks to that earlier charade, Legend was now inherently distrustful of anything too casual coming out of Warriors’ mouth, no matter how honest it might sound.

“Wind, you can sneak, but I was just gonna go through the front door… Soldiers are usually better behaved closer to the castle anyway, so we shouldn’t have any problems. I don’t wanna take up too much of Zelda’s time anyway. It wouldn’t be long…”

"Is she nice?" Wind asked, moving next to Legend so he could lead on their walk. "What's she like? My Zelda never really went by Zelda at all except for like. Two seconds during the fight against that weird evil old man I told you about, yanno, the one who kidnapped my sister ‘cause she was blonde?"

Legend nodded. “Yes, my Zelda is very sweet. She’s too soft for the position really, and she’s a little younger than me. Busy trying to learn to take over the throne officially, though she’s been the only royalty for a while… And I remember. Her name is Tetra…?”

"Uh huh! Tetra's super cool, I think you'd like her. She's got a sense of humor that's dry like yours and she's real tough! Maybe if she met your Zelda, she could teach her a thing or two about being in charge!"

"That's just his way of saying Tetra is in charge of him, too," Warriors snickered, sending Wind into a small fit climbing all over him. It was basically just mock wrestling, but the two were so familiar with each other that it seemed almost like they'd forgotten Hyrule and Legend were still watching. Legend got to see Warriors genuinely smile as he pried Wind off of him and laughed.

"What?! It's the truth! You're the one who walked right into that!"

"Can it!!!!"

Legend grinned slyly. “You like her, don’t you?”

Warriors poked Wind’s side. “They’re dating.”

“Shut up!” Wind squawked.

“That’s so cuuuute, though,” Legend cooed.

“I hate you both!!”

"That's not what you said when I helped you pick out flowers for her back in my Hyrule to press in your letters."

"Oh that's precious," Hyrule giggled.

"S-shut it! You and Dahlia are even worse! During the Time War Every Time I Turned aROUND, you two were making googly eyes at each other."

Warriors hissed an inward breath.

".....Dahlia.... kiiiiind of isn't talking to me."

Wind stopped short. “....What happened?”

Legend and Hyrule glanced at each other, equally as lost. “Who’s Dahlia?” Hyrule asked quietly.

"My Zelda. She's beautiful, wicked smart, a skilled fighter.... But unfortunately, we had a... disagreement... about me coming here. Going on this quest really upset her.... I don't think she really wanted me, she just felt like she needed to have me because of all this prophecy bullshit in our Hyrule. So, I asked. You know. If she wanted me to stay because she'd miss me, or because I was supposed to protect Hyrule. Apparently, it was the latter, and having a pretty face was just a bonus to her."

His fists clenched at his sides a moment, and he took a deep breath, inhale, then exhale.

"...For the best, though. I know where I stand when I go home, no more dancing around 'could be almost something' when I could be taking time to figure out what I really want in a partner."

The other three party members winced and Wind apologized for bringing it up, which Warriors waved off.

They reached the east entrance to the castle grounds and Legend took a deep breath. Quick. They’d be quick.

The veteran hero led the way and the soldiers, true to Legend’s prediction, just gave them some sour looks but didn’t do anything. They were let into the castle and Legend was announced at the door to the throne room.

Zelda looked up from where she was having a conversation with an advisor, and her face lit up. She quickly dismissed her advisors and the few courtesans that were hanging around.

“Link! I wasn’t expecting you! I got a page from Ravio saying you had left!”

Legend tried not to outwardly wince at the name. Oh no, he’d gotten attached already…

“Yeah, I’m sorry about dropping in… Before we officially left, though, I wanted to say goodbye in person, and--”

She hugged him tightly, cutting him off. “I’m so glad you’re here, thank you for coming…”

Legend’s ears turned a little pink, but he hugged her back. “I… yeah… ‘M happy to see you…”

"Cute," Hyrule tittered, getting a gentle elbow from Warriors. That made Zelda's ears perk and she looked up over Legend’s shoulder.

"These are your companions?"

Legend released her and stepped back, nodding. "How much did Rav tell you?"

"That you're time traveling again," she said, poking him in the chest, high up where his stays didn't cover so he'd feel it. "And that you're gathering heroes from other eras!"

"Ow!" Legend gasped, rubbing his chest in mock hurt. "You're so small, your fingers are like needles--"

Zelda rolled her eyes. "Like you can talk! We're the same height, short stack! You just wear tall boots!"

"Don't spill my fuckin' secrets, you little--"

Wind snorted and Hyrule was trying to hide a laugh behind their hand, and Legend decided he wasn't friends with either of them anymore.

"I shoulda left you all outside," Legend growled.

The princess waved him off. "Don't mind him, he's always grumpy. Hello, I'm Zelda, it's lovely to meet you all… I assume you're all named Link? Does that get confusing?"

"We use our hero titles!" Wind chirped. "I'm Wind, and that's Warriors and Hyrule!"

Hyrule waved, and Warriors offered a deep bow, lightly smacking Wind's arm until he did the same, albeit much more shallowly.

"Pleasure to meet you, Your Grace. Please don't worry, all of us have our quirks, it's not just your hero, I'm afraid."

"Yeah, Warriors gets just as grumpy when he's just woke up," Wind grinned. "He's a primadonna in the mornings."

"Hush."

Legend wasn't as annoyed at the formal tone Warriors used because it made Zelda smile.

"Oh, goodness!" she laughed. "Thank you, but you really don't need to bow. My Link never does that, we've known each other since we were children, so I wouldn't expect you to. I'm flattered, though."

Warriors settled into what Legend recognized as an at ease. "Force of habit. I've been around royalty for a long time."

"He's been in the military for like ten years, the old man," Wind muttered. "He's a colonel."

"Hush, Wind."

Zelda blinked. Legend could tell she was fighting not to turn and look at him.

"Oh, how interesting! I assume you all have a variety of backgrounds then!"

Hyrule nodded. "....I'm just a traveler, really. I wander."

"I'm a pirate!" Wind nearly yelled. The kid had no situational awareness, but it made Zelda giggle.

"Variety indeed! And I assume there will be more later… Oh! If you go by your titles, what's this one's?" she asked, nudging Legend.

"The Hero of Legend," Hyrule said with a little smile. "The people sing praises of his many adventures for generations to come."

Legend didn't want to tell Hyrule to shut up so he just huffed and glared at them.

Zelda rounded on him. "So I should commission a statue for you, good to know! I'll put it up right in the middle of the courtyard!"

"Don't you dare," Legend scowled. They both knew it would be defaced anyway.

"Might be nice to immortalize your scowl," Warriors laughed. "Use it to scare away monsters trying to break into the castle."

"Har har, captain."

".....It's colonel."

He'd hit a nerve. There went their tentative truce. Damn.

….Wait, why did he care about the soldier's feelings? He shouldn't. He didn't.

Legend cleared his throat and turned his attention to Zelda. She was giving him a look, which he ignored.

"We should probably get going. Just came to say goodbye. I'm… not going to try to promise when I'll be back."

Zelda considered him for a moment, then sighed. "No, you shouldn't promise anything. Just be careful, don't die, I'm going to miss you, please write, the usual things. And did you already see Ravio today? Because I got that page days ago."

Legend jolted and tried to fight back a flush. "Um-- I was gonna, after this. You think I would visit you and not him too?! He'd kill me!"

"Alright, don't get upset, I was just checking. I don't want to hear Hilda say he's been moping."

"....He'll do that anyway," Legend muttered, a little sad. Guilty.

"We'll make sure he gets back in one whole most of 'im," Wind grinned, earning another light arm swat from both Warriors and Hyrule.

"What he meant to say, Your Highness, is we'll make sure everyone in our group gets home safe. Promise, Your Grace. We'll stop and buy stationary, the first opportunity we get," Warriors asserted.

Zelda glanced at Legend, waiting. Knowing.

"....I've… got that covered," Legend mumbled.

The princess smiled. "Of course you do. Did you bring half your house with you?"

Legend groaned. "Don't start. We're leaving, goodbye Zelda--"

She grinned and grabbed his arm as he stepped away. "No, hug me goodbye! For good luck!"

Legend "begrudgingly" let himself get pulled into another hug and squeezed her tightly, careful of the ornamental metal bits.

"....Isn't it supposed to be a kiss for good luck?" Wind asked.

Dread filled Legend's entire being, but before he could stop her, Zelda had grabbed his face and planted a big kiss on his cheek. When he gagged and dropped her, she was preening.

"I like him," Zelda announced, nodding at Wind. "Great ideas."

"And we are leaving, goodbye," Legend said, brushing past the other heroes.

The princess giggled as she curtsied to the other three. "Lovely to meet you all. Whenever you're back, please come visit if you can." Then she called to Legend, "And be safe!"

"I will!" he called back with a wave, and the heroes were left to bid quick goodbyes and hurry after him.

#au fic #NOT LU #ageless soul au #reminder that Hyrule uses they/them pronouns #wip

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a-bang-for-your-bucky · 4 years

Text

Welcome Home (Part One)

(NOT MY GIF)

Summary: After not speaking to her brothers for over a year, Peyton Rhodes’ life is turned upside down when her boyfriend of four years cheats on her. She uproots her life with WWE and returns home to Atlanta. She finds herself among great friends and she is finding herself again after being lost for so long.

WORD COUNT: 2,624 (well shit).

Pairings: Cody Rhodes x OFC (Sister), Brandi Rhodes x OFC (sister), Dustin Rhodes x OFC (Sister), past Seth Rollins x OFC, future Kenny Omega x OFC (maybe?), MJFx OFC( maybe?) Could end up being Matt Jackson x OFC (who knows) let the writing gods surprise us.

WARNINGS: explicit language, mentioned cheating, possible future smut (Warnings are subject to change as I continue writing and will be updated as needed).

A/N: This has been a WIP for over a year now. This will be multiple parts. It will be a slow burn. (MAYBE) I’m a sucker for the friends to lovers trope. Please do not think that this reflects my feels toward a certain wrestler (Seth). This story is strictly fiction. I do not own any of the characters except for my OFC(s). Please, please, please, give me feedback. I’m slowly working myself back into the fanfic world. <3

“Cody was right.” I cried as soon as my brother’s wife answered the phone. I hadn’t spoken to my brothers since they left WWE. Cody was upset that I wouldn’t leave with him. Brandi was my way of communication with them. She’d call at least twice a week. This week was different.

“I caught him. I went to congratulate him after his win over Finn and they were,” I sniffled, hurt coming over me again. “It was Mandy. I thought she was my friend.” I explained to my sister in law.

“Pey, I am so sorry. Please come home. You know AEW has a spot for you whenever you want it.” Brandi offered. It was the same thing she said to me every week, but now I’m ready.

“I just don’t know why.” I cried. “I was the perfect girlfriend. I basically put my career on hold for him. I thought he was, I thought he was it for me.” Brandi had said that they were going to be home for Cody’s birthday in a few weeks and invited me to come to the party.

“I’ll talk to Hunter.” I choked out.

Luckily, my contract was almost up and as soon as Vince heard I didn’t want to re-sign, he settled for my release. We didn’t have the best relationship, but Hunter advocated for me stating that it was best for the company as well as myself. He knew the situation and didn’t blame me for wanting to go.

I knew I had to go back one day. I just never thought it would be this soon. I parked my car in the drive. I could hear Pharaoh announcing my arrival before I could make it to the door. I made my way up the sidewalk to the porch. I took a deep breath and knocked.

Brandi opened the door immediately. “Well I'll be damned.” She said, “I can’t believe you came!” I smiled, embracing my brother’s wife.

“Like I would miss my big brother’s 35th birthday.” I lied and she knew it. If Seth hadn’t cheated on me, I wouldn’t be here.

Brandi led me inside where there were some guests who had gathered in the foyer. Brandi introduced me quickly, leading me through to Cody. “Hey, babe. Your surprise is here.” Cody, who was standing by the fireplace, talking to Dustin, turned and saw me.

Awkwardly, I raised a hand to wave. “Hi.” I whispered. Cody sat down his drink and walked over to me. I expected him to cuss and yell, but instead, he threw his arms around me, hugging me tightly.

“Peyton, I'm so happy you’re here.” He whispered. Dustin came up behind him.

“Long time, no see sis. You know, they invented this thing called a phone. You should look into it. Call your big brothers sometime.” Dustin fussed before hugging me too.

“It is really good to see you guys.” I tried to hold back the tears, but some escaped anyway. “How have you been? AEW has really taken off huh?” I said making small talk.

Cody nodded, “Yeah, I have the best business partners. I can’t wait for you to meet them.” Looking at my brother, he was truly happy. WWE had given him a few more stress lines, but seeing him now, you couldn’t tell.

He grabbed my hand, pulling me to follow him. He led me to Matt and Nick Jackson, standing with Kenny Omega and Adam Page. “Guys! Guys! Look who decided to show her face.” Cody beamed, smiling big. The four guys waved.

“Finally! We get to meet the prodigal sister.” Kenny Omega spoke first.

“Peyton, these are the guys.” Cody pointed to each of them. “Matt. Nick. Kenny. Adam.”

“Nice to meet y’all finally. I watch your show every week. You are all very talented.” They all mumbled a “thank you” in tandem.

The rest of the evening went by smoothly. We all sat and talked. Getting to know The Elite was amazing. It was almost as if I hadn’t been AWOL for a year and a half. When the party was over, I was helping Brandi clean up.

“Pey, you don’t have to help. You’re a guest.” She said, grabbing the glasses from my hands. I shook my head.

“I’m family. And family helps.” I smiled, taking the glasses back and continued to the kitchen. Cody walked in behind me with plates.

“Hey,” he started, “Thank you for coming.” He finished, placing the plates in the dishwasher. I added my glasses.

“I’m sorry.” I blurted out, turning to face him. Cody looked at me, confused. “I should have left with you. You were right about that place. My career, my relationship, everything, became a shitshow after you left.” tears began to fall.

“Pey, it’s okay. I’m just happy you’re here now.” Cody wiped the tears away.

“Code. I lost my title. Seth cheated on me, and I barely got any TV time.” Cody scoffed. He never liked Seth.

“He cheated on you?” Cody growled, and paced around the room.

I nodded, “I caught him. I went to congratulate him after his win one night and they were,” I sniffled, explaining to Cody. “I don’t know why.” I cried. “And then I lost my title, and then stopped getting TV time, unless I was on Seth’s arm.” I darted my eyes to the ground. “We still had to work together. After everything, I had to pretend like we were the perfect couple, until my last appearance.” Cody pulled me into a tight hug.

“I pissed a lot of people off with the way I left. I’m so sorry that affected you.” he whispered into my hair, like it was his fault.

“I don’t blame you, Code. I was granted my release.” I mumbled into his chest. He pulled back.

“What?” His eyes were wide.

“I asked for my release and Hunter pushed it through. I’ll be a free agent in 90 days” I explained. Cody smiled like a Cheshire cat.

“Babe! Dustin! Get in here!” Cody yelled, startling me. The both of them came running, looking for an emergency, but they only saw Cody pouring champagne for a toast. Confused looks covered their faces.

Cody gave everyone a flute and started a toast. “To our baby sister, the newest AEW superstar.” Brandi squealed and hugged me tight. The guys joined in.

I was finally home.

It was hard, walking away from my life in WWE; However, finding my place within the Elite was easy. Especially with Kenny Omega. He quickly became one of my closest friends. The next 3 months were the best of my life. The break from wrestling gave my body and my heart time to heal. Everyone did their best to hide that I was coming to AEW, even leaving fake trails that I was going back to NJPW.

After working out the details of my contract, I was officially signed with AEW. Cody wanted me to make a surprise entrance, interrupt one of his segments. Creative loved the idea of brother and sister reuniting, but they wanted to make it interesting. When my debut date came, I couldn’t have been any more nervous.

Sitting in catering, I was alone, lost in thought, picking at my food. It had been a long journey here, but they made it. AEW came to life and it was thriving. Double or nothing had passed, and that meant tonight was Dynamite.

“Guess who?” Someone had snuck up on me, covering my eyes. I smiled because I knew exactly who it was.

“Hmm, Prince Charming?” I guessed quickly. Kenny placed a sloppy kiss to my cheek.

“Close, but better.” He said uncovering my eyes. “Hey, princess. Just thought I’d come save you from your thoughts. What’s going on in that head of yours right now?” he asked, knowing I’ll tell him, taking the seat next to me.

I sighed, rubbing my face. “I was thinking about my journey, how I got here.” Kenny nodded, but didn’t say anything. “I was thinking about how I get to see Jon again, since leaving WWE, and I was thinking about Seth.” I finally spit it out. Seth, his name leaving a bad taste in my mouth.

“I knew something was bothering you. Talk to me, doll.”

“I was scrolling through Insta earlier. He’s engaged. I know I shouldn’t care, but I do. Not because I still have feelings for him, but because she is, was, my friend, and I don’t want him to do to her what he did to me.” I explained to him.

“That’s understandable, Pey, but people gotta make their own mistakes. Mandy knows what he did to you and she still said yes, so that’s on her.” Kenny said, ever the voice of reason.

I nodded in agreement with him, knowing he was right. I needed to focus on my new path, my new future.

“Peyton!” Cody called from a distance, Brandi following him. It was time.

Cody stood, center ring, proudly. He had won the TNT title at Double or Nothing. He went on about how he was issuing an open challenge every Wednesday.

I stood nervously behind the curtain, waiting for my cue. I was about to make my debut. My life has been a little crazy since I left WWE behind, but definitely for the better.

As an avid Fall Out Boy fan, I had struck a deal to have my favorite song as my entrance music. I had been using it for most of my career. The music hit, the crowd went crazy. “Holy Hell, that music can only mean one person. The sister of the American Nightmare. That’s Peyton Rhodes!” JR yelled into his mic as I strolled down the ramp, ignoring the crowd. “Peyton” chants filled the arena as I made my way to the squared circle.

“Peyton Rhodes has joined AEW and the crowd couldn’t be happier,” Excalibur added. I walked around the ring to the time keeper, grabbing a mic from Justin, and strolled on toward the ring.

The music cut, and Cody was first to speak. "Oh yeah. I guess we didn't announce this but Peyton Rhodes is AEW!" The crowd screamed at Cody's news, chanting "AEW".

I soaked in the cheers because I knew it was all about to change. I had been a face for most of my pro-wrestling career, and now I finally get to pursue the heel turn my fans had been begging for. I took in a deep breath and adjusted my leather jacket.

“Oh, Atlanta, shut the hell up!” I groaned into the mic. I revelled in the audible gasp that could be heard. “That’s right. No more sweet ‘Georgia peach’ Peyton Rhodes. I came to AEW to raise hell, and that’s what I’m going to do.” I wandered around the ring, stopping in front of a camera. “I’m sick and tired of wanting your approval. I’m here to get what I want. And I want it all.” I punctuated as I looked dead into the camera.

“Hear that big brother,” I turned and faced Cody, “Hell just arrived in AEW I hope you’re ready.” I gestured to the crowd, “I hope you’re all ready, because if you thought Cody was a nightmare, wait til you see me, the Dream Killer.” I dropped the mic, and rolled out of the ring. The crowd loved it. “Dream Killer” chants echoed in my ears all the way backstage.

I was greeted by Dustin, Brandi, and Kenny. “That was perfect, Pey, they loved it.” Kenny said as soon as I was in sight. I grinned, running up to him, jumping into his arms for a hug.

“The crowd loved you. They’ve been hoping for this heel turn since your WWE debut.” Cody said, smiling from ear to ear as he returned to the back after finishing his promo.

“For real, Pey! You pull off the ‘heel’ thing. I can’t wait to work on your wardrobe!” Brandi squealed, embracing me in a dancing hug. “Just think about the shoes, Pey, the shoes.” Brandi was way more excited about the outfits than the actual turn. She had helped me pick the one I was wearing. Black jean shorts, a front-zip black and white crop top, leather jacket, and black boots.

“I can’t wait to see where this takes me.” I said before we were joined by the rest of The Elite.

Nick was the first to speak. “Not bad, Rhodes. You might be a better heel than your brother here.” He elbowed Cody in the ribs.

Matt nodded in agreement, “For real Peyton, the crowd was so hyped for that turn.” He said with a soft smile, bringing me in for a quick hug.

I turned to face everyone. “Thanks guys. All of you. You gave me this chance.” I thanked them, “I promise I won’t let you down.”

“You’re a great addition to the AEW family.” Adam complimented, “Come on Ken, we got a match to get ready for.” he said before walking away. Kenny gave me one last hug before following him.

Cody and Brandi also parted as she had a segment coming up, leaving me with the Young Bucks. “Come on, Pey, lets celebrate!” We had walked back to catering where some more of the AEW stars were waiting. In the back, I spotted the one person I couldn’t wait to see again. I told The Bucks I’d catch up with them.

“Jon!” I screamed, almost running to him. When he saw me rushing toward him, he opened his arms, inviting me in for a hug. Hugging him was a blast from the past.

“Peyton fucking Rhodes. I heard rumors you were coming. Sweetheart, you knocked them dead.” He spoke into my hair. I gave him one more tight squeeze before pulling away. “Well, you look great.” He said, gesturing to my outfit.

“I’m heel now. Finally.” I boasted. I’ve been waiting for this for the longest time and no one was taking it away from me. Jon and I talked, catching up. I asked about Renee and he lit up. He was happy and that’s all I wanted for him. He was finally able to be the fighting champion everyone knew he could be.

“What about Seth? What happened? The last time I spoke to him, he said you guys were happy and he had bought a ring.” Jon asked, and it knocked the breath out of me. I knew he would ask, but I wasn’t expecting him to mention a ring.

“He cheated on me. With Mandy. They’re engaged now.” I said without choking up, which was a good sign. I could see the disappointment well up in Jon’s eyes.

“You were always too good for him.” I knew he and Seth were still good friends, but I appreciated the words nonetheless. Jon gave me one last hug before he got called away for his match, leaving me alone in catering again.

I found a table close to a TV so I could watch the end of Kenny and Adam’s match. They were well on their way to becoming tag team champions. I started thinking about what Jon had said about Seth, about him buying a ring. I couldn’t believe it. He was going to ask me to marry him and I would have said yes, had I not found him with Mandy. I was pulled from my thoughts by my phone vibrating. It was Seth.

I saw your debut.

You look good.

You’re gonna be a great heel.

I miss you.

I wish you would talk to me and let me explain.

I read and reread the messages a hundred times before replying.

Okay, Seth. When and where?

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howdywrites · 3 years

Text

Distractions

- An In The Woods Somewhere drabble

Description: The aftermath of a violent zombie attack leaves Jackie shaken and Mara's there to pick up the pieces.

WC: 1.5k~ Warnings: (NOTE: this is a New Adult wip) blood, descriptions of gore and death, hurt/comfort, hints at PTSD

[WIP Intro]

My hand’s in his chest.

Jackie’s ragged breathing mixed with the pounding of her heart in her ears. She became aware of every sensation encompassing her trembling hands. Sharp bone and squirming innards. Blood so old and rancid it left her fist coated in its stomach churning viscosity. The smell of it burned her nose.

My hand’s in his fucking chest.

A voice, barely audible over the panicked thoughts echoing in her skull, called to her. Jackie’s eyes remained transfixed on the collapsed chest beneath her. She crouched over the man who had attacked her - if one could call it a man at all. His yellowed eyes stared at the stars above them, the light far from gone. His neck bent at an unnatural angle and the hunting knife she managed to wrestle off of him was now buried between his ribs. She gripped its leather handle for dear life, lost in the gore of his wound.

“Jackie.” Mara’s voice came to her like a freight train. A touch harsh and loud enough to pull her attention away from one of the cracked bones that dug into the back of her hand. Jackie’s head whipped around, meeting the soft, weary eyes of the woman she saved. “Jackie. Let go of the knife.” Her voice was soft. Softer than she’d ever heard from here in their two long days together. No snarky quips or barking orders. She beckoned to her like a cool oasis in a desert.

Jackie half expected the more experienced woman to be pissed at her for letting the killing get to her. Even after all they’d been through. But this… this was going to stick with her. Even with her own mind screaming at her to let go of the weapon and remove herself from the blood that began to soak into the knees of her jeans, she couldn’t release her grip on the damned thing.

“I… I can’t. Mara, I can’t-” She didn’t recognize her own voice. Shrill and panicked, she barely managed to swallow the sob growing in the back of her throat. “It’s stuck - I’m stuck!”

A quiet hush passed Mara’s lips. Jackie turned her face away so she wouldn’t see the hot tears that defied her and slipped down her cheeks. A warm, lithe body pressed against her back. Arms wrapped around her, grime coated hands taking her wrists. The lean muscle of her arms encased her protectively.

“Then let me do it. C’mon, let me free you.”

Jackie trembled. The sob won. Through blurry tears she watched as Mara’s fingers wrenched her own off the hilt of the blade. The muscle in her wrist ached terribly like the time in college when she gave herself carpal tunnel from writing two essays in a row. Despite the pain, they shook uncontrollably.

The chest against her back rumbled; Mara uttered a low groan as she hoisted Jackie off the dead man’s limp form. They stumbled backwards until they reached the mouth of the cave they had been hiding in for the past few hours to catch their breath.

Another sob wracked her chest, echoing off the jagged stone walls and high ceiling. Somewhere, in the distant woods, a high pitched yowling signalled danger. More of the fuckers lurked somewhere in the darkness. Mara squeezed her against her, mouth brushing against her ear. “Not here.” Her warm breath warned in a whisper. “The falls. Wait until the falls.”

Jackie’s breath fluttered in short bursts. Everything within her wanted to break down crying where they stood. Throw a fit that could shake the heavens and ultimately end the nightmare they were trapped in. But she choked back her whimpers and stumbled when Mara’s body left hers. A hand remained under her elbow, guiding her.

“This way. Carefully.”

Limbs carried her on their own. Her mind was too busy preoccupied with the violent attack playing over and over again like a rancid movie. Except it was her hands. Her feet. Her voice that cried out when she dealt the final blow.

Jackie’s ankle twisted oddly for a second as she lost her balance along the rocky shore of Sky Pond. Mara kept her upright, by some miracle, picking up their pace towards the Timberline Falls straight ahead. The sound of rushing water allowed her to cry again, as long as she kept the sobbing at bay. More tears slipped down her cheeks, cooling her hot flesh and releasing some of the pent up terror still lingering within her.

Timberline Fall’s grew louder the closer they approached it. Both of them surveyed their surroundings, making sure no one - and no thing - was close enough to attack. Jackie pulled her hand from Mara’s, pushing past her to get to a broad, flat boulder beside the body of water. Icy sprinkles fell from overhead, misting her. Relief joined hand in hand with the pain inside of her.

Before she knew it, Jackie’s screams drowned in the roar of Timberline.

It was uncertain how much time passed. The moon still hung high overhead, providing pale light. The falls became a background rumble that Jackie tuned out not long after arriving. The occasional whimper rattled in her throat, but it seemed she had cried every tear she could in the time they remained by the edge of Sky Pond.

At some point, she had been coaxed back to the cave. The dead man was nowhere in sight - something of Mara’s doing. Smears of his blood still painted the stone, but without his rotting corpse, there wasn’t much to see.

Jackie’s face pressed against warm skin. She wheezed, trying to conjure up another sob to finally drain her of energy. But it never came. Mara smelled like the earth. Strong and natural, with a hint of campfire and sweat. Not that she minded. After their two days together, she almost found it more comforting than her mother’s perfume or her past girlfriend’s deodorant. It was all Mara.

It took a small deal of effort to peel her tacky, tear-streaked cheek off of the bare shoulder she rested against. There, lounging by their backpacks, Mara held her and worked tirelessly to get the last of the rotten blood out from the creases of Jackie’s knuckles. Very few words were shared between them since her breakdown at the falls, but when she laid her head against her chest she let the sound of her steady heartbeat ground her.

“I’m sorry.” Though Jackie didn’t exactly know what she was apologizing for. Those dark eyes fluttered, a brow raising as they looked down at her.

“What have I told you about apologizing too much, Jackie?” The tease was light. Mara’s voice frayed, somehow mustering a small smile. “I’m just cleaning you up. I know what the scent of death can do to a person. You’ve dealt with enough. Just let me do this for you.”

Jackie went quiet, watching as Mara’s hands turned hers over so her palms faced up. The handkerchief she used was tossed aside. With both of their hands clean, she interlaced their fingers. The memory of the dead man’s face tried to surface, but the forehead that nestled against hers flung it back into the void.

“What are you thinking about?” Mara’s inquiry lingered unanswered for a moment. What was she thinking about? Images of the violence from the past days flickered but never formed completely at the front of her mind. Her brain buzzed with the touch. The gentleness in the warrior’s actions.

“Him. Or at least, I was.” Jackie’s breathing went shallow again. They were so close right then. She could feel her warm breath against her face. “I was thinking about the noise he made… but you’re kind of making it hard to do that right now.”

“Am I?” Mara snorted, pulling her head back from hers for a moment. Humor lingered on her exhausted gaze. “Don’t tell me you’ve caught feelings for some crazy bitch you met during a zombie apocalypse.”

Well that ruined the moment. Embarrassed, Jackie turned her face away and cast her gaze to the streaks of moonlight that lit up the front of the cave. A hand left one of hers. Warm fingers caressed the side of her jaw, pulling her gaze back to Mara. She looked serious then. Her brows lowered in concentration. They locked eyes for what seemed like hours.

Mara leaned in. Her lips were so close to hers. So fucking close. What a perfect distraction they were, even as they hovered ever so slightly next to hers. Jackie’s breath hitched in her throat and she watched her through her lashes. She gave a small nod, letting her know this was a welcomed advance.

She tasted of salt and sweet tobacco. Far better than the scent of blood or death. Jackie hummed against her lips, her hands trembling against. Only this time it was from the rush of electricity that coursed through her veins at the tender affection. Mara deepened the kiss, her hand still firmly against her jaw. A thumb swiped along her cheek bone, tickling her like a butterfly’s wings.

They only broke so she could catch her breath. After all her crying, Jackie still wasn’t sure how to breathe properly. The humor returned to Mara’s face and she murmured against her lips.

“Hope you like crazy, princess. You’re going to be stuck with me for a while”

ITWS Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @lordkingsmith @celestialbunnistories @aeslin-writes @writinginslowmotion @chayscribbles @theramwrites @tiredlittleoldme @sapphcon-ic @hazard-writes @lookingmuchimproved @themidnxghtwriter @draculinawrites @aetherwrites @svpphicwrites @maxgraybooks @writeherewaiting @sjjsalamanders @thelittlestspider @ashen-crest @writtendevastation @ravesthewriter @adie-dee @christine-thinks @cream-and-tea @reeseweston @languageisbae @mellowkittenwrites @yejidoesthings

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meggannn · 3 years

Note

i would also like to see post sidonis + backstory wip info

the backstory fic: this was an attempt to write my shepard's life pre-enlistment, explaining her relationship with the gang and the girl she took under her wing who was eventually killed in a gang war. but trust me that it was really bad and that's why i abandoned it a long time ago! lmfao

the post-sidonis thing: this is a rewrite of the conversation with garrus following the sidonis quest, where garrus is pissed that shepard prevented him from taking the shot. but the reason that’s sat on the backburner is because i eventually realized (as you and i have discussed lol) that i hate garrus’s loyalty quest and i’ve rewritten it in my head, so any attempt to write a post-sidonis fic will have to come after i’ve written my actual sidonis quest rewrite, and i just have too much going on to think about that at the moment lol.

it’s not very long, so here is the entirety of the document, from back when this was just about garrus being angry. be warned this is old and unedited, gdrive tells me that the last time i looked at this was in 2017:

Garrus storms into the battery, jams the lock, and activates the privacy shields. He narrowly avoids driving his fist into the wall, but -- after a split-second of consideration — doesn’t feel assured he wouldn’t break a bone against Cerberus’s bloody top-of-the-line warship. Instead, he slams his hands against the console, ignoring the flashing lights as the screen awakens from sleep, grips the edges, and sighs.

What the hell had she been thinking?

The thing that gets him — the thing that bloody gets him is that it had come down to the line, to the second he’d seen the pinpricks of his dark eyes, a single trigger keeping him from putting the ghosts of his team to rest --

No. Suddenly there was Shepard, too, and she was harder to budge than his own conscience.

Even in his own mind, he struggles to find the line between the commander, the friend he knows her to be, and the help -- the accomplice he nearly made of her. He knows that Shepard has always, always trusted the evidence and her gut in tandem. And the facts are that he asked her to take him at his word, without proof. The detective in him knows it isn’t for lack of trust that drove her to step into his shot, it was out of necessity: to question the suspect personally, to hear it straight from the source without bias or filter. Knowing that doesn’t make it any easier to swallow.

If he asked her why, Shepard would certainly explain. She would spin him some bullshit about taking the high road, or about revenge not being the answer. What he’s worried of, what he’s terrified of, is that she would explain, and he would let her, and that she would convince him it was for the best. He didn’t want to be convinced -- he wanted to be right on his own terms, he wanted her help with this one fucking thing --

A faint beep from the other side of the door snaps him back into the present.

“Override,” comes Shepard’s voice from the other side. A swish of the lock and a rush of air at his back.

Garrus clenches his teeth.

There’s a tense sort of silence for -- he counts -- about a minute and a half. She cracks first.

“It wasn’t because I didn’t trust you,” she says finally.

“Shepard -- ” He pushes off the console and turns around. He vaguely registers that the door is closed again behind her; good. No reason for any of the crew to hear this. “Don’t feed me any crap on revenge getting the better of me. You waited until the moment I had him in my scope to toss it all out the window to satisfy your conscience. I asked you for help. You agreed.”

Even as he says it, he knows it’s not entirely fair. She hadn’t kept her disapproval secret; it had weighed on him through the scuffles in the warehouse, like a weight around his neck, knowing this was his mission and Shepard had disapproved -- and he can’t rightfully claim he had given her room to argue her case.

“I didn’t wake up this morning planning on putting myself in between a sniper and his target,” Shepard snaps back. She scrubs a hand over her face; Garrus has the presence of mind enough to notice she looks exhausted, like she’s been wrestling with the decision herself. “It happened in the moment. I stood there. I listened. I’d heard the story from you, but I needed to hear it from him.”

“And what, exactly, did that piece of filth say to change your mind?” Garrus snarls. He feels full to bursting with some unnamed energy and stalks the length of the corridor in two quick strides.

Shepard is still staring at him, so infuriatingly calm. “You know exactly what he said. If you still think I blocked your shot out of kindness for him, then you haven’t been paying attention.”

“Right,” he spits, and he needs to nip this pseudo-moral bullshit at the root before the conversation gets sanctimonious again. “It was for my benefit. That explains why I feel so much better, you know, now that he’s still alive.”

“Don’t turn this into a joke. You know why I didn’t move. The galaxy wouldn’t have lost a decent man if you’d pulled the trigger.” She pauses for a moment, assess him, and something goes cold in his chest as he wonders if she finds what she sees lacking. “Then again, maybe it would have.”

He takes a step closer to her. He didn’t intend the move to be intimidating, but he realizes just how much he towers over her in this moment, with his neck bent down. Her eyes close, in a tense sort of irritation. “I’ve killed before, Commander,” he says, not aggressively. “We wiped out a few dozen mercenaries between the two of us just today. And you draw the line at a degenerate bastard that cost my men and half my face?”

“To tell you the truth,” she runs fingers through her hair and laughs in the sort of half-hearted way that says nothing about this is funny at all, “I’m still not entirely sure I do, Garrus.”

“Do not,” he says lowly, “tell me you’re regretting it.”

Shepard drops her hand and stares at him. He’s never seen her attention fixed on him with such hard, determined purpose. It’s the look she normally gives mercenaries they’re shaking for information, criminals they’re convincing. Something about it makes clench his jaw further, a pool of shame and anger mixing equally in his chest.

“Vakarian,” she says his name slowly. “I could stand here and give you a laundry list of reasons why you shouldn’t have committed cold-blooded murder in the middle of a public square.” Shepard stares at him, all five feet of her, and despite himself he feels like a fresh recruit again, fifteen years of age with markings fresh-painted across his face, staring up at a livid drill sergeant. “But you’re not interested in listening and I’m not interested in fighting with a wall. Come talk to me when you know who you’re really angry at.”

She turns and moves to open the door.

“I took him on my team,” Garrus growls. “I put my faith in that asshole. He let me down. He let his team down. It cost their lives.”

“You imagine you’re the only one who’s been betrayed in the galaxy?” Shepard looks at him over her shoulder but doesn’t turn around. “The only one who’s seen their entire team dead on a commanding officer’s mistake?”

Garrus has a flash of remembrance that Shepard has seen two of her crews slaughtered; once at Akuze, and again over the blistering snow and wind of Alchera. He grapples with another sinking feeling at the knowledge that she is heading a team through the Omega-4 relay against odds so impossible that most of the ground team had taken to jokingly calling it a “suicide mission.” Garrus has used the phrase himself more than once in conversation with the crew, in that half-serious tone he seems to have adopted after Omega when joking about the probability of his own demise.

Looking at the mission’s leading officer now, it suddenly doesn’t seem so amusing.

“You know it’s not the same,” he says around a dry mouth.

“No, it’s not,” she sighs and rests her forearm against the door, forehead leaning against her wrist. “…And if my CO on Akuze had survived, I can’t promise I wouldn’t’ve wanted to put a bullet in his head myself.”

“Then why, Shepard?” He’s tired of arguing. The burst of adrenaline from earlier is gone, anger fading into the kind of bone-weary exhaustion that he’s only known to follow a failed mission. He can't help but think that is exactly what this is, the disconcerting feeling that the justice hasn’t been seen to, that the responsible party got away, and it stings something else in him that he’s feeling it with Shepard for the first time.

Some tension in her body seems to evaporate. Shepard slowly looks up at him. “I don’t know, Garrus,” she says calmly. “You tell me.”

And that’s the part he can’t understand, and he hates himself for not understanding.

Shepard had stood aside, in that last second. It hadn’t been an accident. The gap between her skull and Sidonis’s had extended about a meter. Garrus is a good enough sniper that Lantar’s brains would have smeared the floor without Shepard feeling the whistle of the bullet pass by her forehead. She’d said her piece, woven her magic, and then stepped aside, and damn her for making him feel guilty in that moment for wanting what he’d needed. What closure could come from letting him go? What benefit could come from letting a murderer, a betrayer free to roam the galaxy? What good could it do his own conscience?

And yet --

He could’ve pulled the trigger anyway, and he didn’t.

He could’ve moved position. He didn’t.

“Go. Just -- tell him to get the hell out of here.”

Fuck it. Just -- fuck.

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