Fandom: Dynasty Warriors
Couple: Sun Ce/Da Qiao
Prompt: Da Qiao is pregnant and Sun Ce keeps getting distracted by pregnancy boobs!! Bonus points if this is in DW time and not AU
Suton: twilight; the approach of death or the end of something.
Prompted by spitfire-teen.
First attempt at Starry Sky, so hopefully it’s not a complete bust.
Used PC’s ‘canon’ name to make it easier and relatively vague.
using the prompts below, write a drabble (or whatever) a day for the next 30 days. find someone willing to hit you if you miss a day. look back at the end and go ‘oh! i’m a writer!’.
beginning. accusation. restless. snowflake. haze. flame. formal. companion. move. silver. prepared. knowledge. denial. wind. order. thanks. look. summer. transformation. tremble. sunset. mad. thousand. outside. winter. diamond. letters. promise. simple. future.
I got to formal and gave up
I’ll pick it up from there I promise
i plan to reblog this every time i see it until i actually do it.
I really, really, really need to get myself writing so I’ll reblog this. Maybe something will happen. Maybe. >_>
GONNA DO THIS FOR STEVE. BECAUSE REASONS. Also because Steve seems to fit drabbles somehow. WHO WANTS TO HIT ME IF I DON’T? (I’ll start tomorrow)
… Ah fuck.
Suddenly want to do this for Loki
(and Thor obviously). I am having ALL the ideas just looking at this list.
Why would you post something like this? As if I don’t have enough projects going? Wehweh.
asked : Write something based on the word: Fountain
Not my best work but it had been awhile since I worked so much on descriptions. It was good to try to work my hand at that again. Original fiction. And thank you for helping me with my writing issue, darling. It is appreciated, always, to have that support.
The Orphic Fountain was famous. It was a grand display of artistic genius and talent. It towered over the crowds that came and stared in awe. The white stone shaped and twisted in such intricate details and spirals. The bodies carved were nude and stretched, twisted in languid forms. The emerging shapes of animals and skeletons were grotesque or beautiful, sometimes both. The flowing water rushed and poured into the expanded pool. The water glittered under the sun, the coins tossed in adding to the magic of the art where it wasn’t shaded by the towering pillars of the shut down temple. Years ago the pagan temples pulled apart and the followers hung from the steeples and gutted on the steps. The riches and artistry confiscated by the rich and the new religion if not destroyed.
This fountain was the reason the town had been remembered. Had grown and flourished when others disappeared in the revolution. This fountain was the inspiration for so much art, for so much love, for so much lost. For all the grotesque features of the fountain, what was heinous was to see the fountain broken. To see the white stone cracked and falling apart.To see the blood splattered across the bodies. The once clear blue water that shimmered and spoke with every trickle and ripple turned red. To see such a symbol, art, perfection broken and shattered because of avaricious.
Ariel stood in the same spot he had so many years ago as a child, staring up at the terrifying fountain with awe and horror. He gently pulled out a corpse of a woman from the pond, dropping her to the side in some vain attempt to save the fountain from any more defacement. He let out a quiet sigh of disappointment. In his sister, the ringleader of this atrocious attack- atrocious plan, and maybe even in himself. For he should have known. Should have accepted sooner what his sister was. What she would do- for he had always known what she was capable of. He let his eyes fall away from the fountain, turning towards Pasha. The large man was picking over what was left of the loot on some of the corpses, having nothing better to do while he waited for Ariel.
“I will not stay here.”
Pasha shrugged, pushing off of his knee to stand. “I have no complaints.” He spared only a glance at the fountain as he moved to stand beside Ariel. “I prefer the stars to a ceiling when the only bodies present aren’t likely to warm my bed.”
Ariel did not laugh. Which was fine because it wasn’t a joke. Ariel turned and made to leave the town with what little dignity he still had.
Anonymous asked : Either an OC or something based from the word: Lily
OC and Lily? Anon, you are a mind reader. This is the easiest thing yet to write. And a joy, as well! The (rewritten) beginning of an original story ahead.
It was in the grand fairy tale castle that Lillian grew up. Confined to the walls as the only heir to the king. The only failure of the great King. A daughter and not a son. A stain that was not her fault. But she was brought up knowing and believing that it was a simple fact.
But that would not stop her, slow her, hinder her. For she was the Princess and heir to the throne. She was the only child to the beautiful Queen and great King. So she was to be perfect in all other manners. She was named after the flower of their God, named for the humility of men and the Lady’s Tears that she cried for the loss of her children. She was brought up under the greatest minds and excelled at all her studies.
She grew into the molds made for her. A beautiful princess with long hair always braided and twisted in the latest fashion. Her cheek bones sharp and lips red. She was praised for her looks, for the parital heterochromia. She was doted on for her small frame and thick lashes. What she wore became the fashion for the nobles. What she said became excited gossip among the kingdom. Her coming marriage to Prince Phoebus was filling everybody’s minds, the romance catching all the young maidens attention.
Lillian was the most beloved of everybody. Or,most everybody. Her mother was always depressed, sad, defeated, and locked away in her quarters with but her hand maidens. Her father, she thought, had loved her. Doted on her, was proud of her. She surrounded herself with only those that loved her and only participated in activities that she knew she was good at.
Perhaps, then, that was her downfall. She, however, thought that it was simply unfair how difficult it was to get out of the castle without attracting attention. She had attempted to escape twice now from her home since she had overheard her father speaking to Duilio. Petulant and tired of all the running, she all but stomped towards the library, having it in her mind to demand that Michele, the only tutor she still had, help her escape to freedom.
asked : Garrus and Miranda and a conversation about bratty sisters. o: (Hope this isn't too off the wall)
So this is the first time for Miranda as well. Thank you, my darlings, for pushing me out of my boundaries. Having a sister, I thought this would be easy. It wasn’t.
Miranda couldn’t say she was a fan of Garrus. Not because he was an alien. She didn’t hate aliens. She just didn’t have much to relate to the turian. And, personally, it didn’t help that it was easy to feel replaced by him. She was supposed to be the XO of the ship and officially she was. And yet everybody could see that Garrus was actually who Shepard turned to. It was petty, perhaps, but it was not something she could change.
She was surprised to suddenly find she was having a conversation with him. A real conversation that wasn’t about a job. “Solona was a brat,” he said, leaning on the console. “She always was able to get her way because she was smart enough to never get caught. And being older she had such an ego about everything.”
Miranda laughed at his expense.
“And the fights we’d get into. We were close enough to the same age. So I was always allowed to hit her and her me. We’d end up running around the entire house snarling and screeching at each other.”
Miranda tried to imagine it and couldn’t. “Oriana keeps sending me vids. At first I was pleased with how… funny she could be. Now her snark is going to get her in trouble.”
Garrus chuckled then and she glanced at him. “Doesn’t it always?” he muttered. “Problem with you is that you can’t teach her respect. No repercussions to her words. She’s going to become a loose cannon.”
Miranda hummed. “I keep her in line.”
She just smiled. “She’s my genetic twin. Doesn’t mean she’s as educated as I am in the ways of technology.”
“You lower yourself to Joker’s level? Oriana is good.”
Miranda glared up at him, hand on her hip. “I’ll have you know my returns are always… classy.”
Garrus’ mandibles flared in his humor. “Talk to Joker. He’s good. If… when me and Solona are talking again I’ve got an arsenal waiting.”
Miranda never admitted she took Garrus’ advice. Nor did she admit that she came around more often, listening to him as he opened up about him and his sister. Because she needed tips on how to be a big sister and he needed an ear for his troubles.
Cortez and femShep (thane-romance) confiding in each other over their lost loves.
Never written Cortez before. Really quick short because Thane angst get’s me going after ME3 and you’ll be getting me to write chapters again
and darn it that isn’t what this was for! Thank you so much poison-ninja for the prompt.
Steve was new to the Normandy and so he didn’t know everything. A lot of the small facts were completely missed because they weren’t things people talked about. They were simply what happened and if you didn’t know them you were never would. He accepted that. It happened on every ship. He knew the commander had been in something with the drell, Thane. Nobody would name what that something was, but Steve was pretty sure he knew what. He didn’t know that the Life Support was where the drell had stayed, where Shepard and Thane had fallen into their something.
So that was why he usually made his way to the Life Support room in his time off. It was usually empty and he sometimes wanted that. He felt stupid after he realized why it was always empty. But it was also warmer and he was looking for some tranquility after the turmoil of the Citadel. He made his way in, shocked to find Shepard sitting at the table, cradling the cup of steaming tea she had.
She wasn’t crying. But her expression was forlorn, lost, perhaps even a bit defeated. Steve licked his lips as he walked in. He had heard about Thane’s death and had thought- it wasn’t his place. Garrus or Joker or anybody else. Not his. She had done so much for him and he wanted to help her too. But he had just appeared on her ship and he had thought it not his place. So he had simply nodded to her when she returned- when she looked fine. Like that indestructible, infallible leader that pulled him through his mess of feelings.
But now he wondered if anybody else had stepped up. He walked forward as her head rose, eyes red and watery. No tears though. He wondered, sometimes, if she remembered how to cry. Because it might have been a very long time since she felt allowed to do so. She tried to give him a smile as he walked forward. He didn’t take the chair, piecing together the facts he knew and- that wasn’t a chair he could take- and instead leaned his hip against the table. “Cotez,” she said, voice sounding so normal that it hurt.
“Commander,” he said gently, taking her hand slowly- letting her pull away if she wanted. Because he wasn’t actually sure how to comfort her. That was perhaps why nobody stepped up. She was such a hard person to read sometimes. He wasn’t sure what he was actually doing. She glanced at their hands a moment, then he saw the slight tremor of her lip, and then she tightened her fingers around his and shut her eyes. He gave a reassuring smile she couldn’t see as she clung to his hand.