Me, reading chapter 41 of Brave the Tempest:

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
we're not kids anymore.

Origami Around
NASA

Janaina Medeiros
wallacepolsom

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Keni

★

PR's Tumblrdome
RMH
d e v o n
noise dept.
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

titsay

shark vs the universe

pixel skylines
occasionally subtle

ellievsbear

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seen from Canada
seen from Malaysia

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom
seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States

seen from South Africa
seen from China

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from South Africa

seen from Türkiye

seen from Bangladesh
seen from Bangladesh

seen from Ecuador
seen from United States
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seen from United States
@slightlybitchyclairvoyant
Me, reading chapter 41 of Brave the Tempest:
did I do this right
Cassandra Palmer Series / Alignment Chart
Version 1.0
Some people freak out a bit about the age difference. Uh, they think, ‘what’s this 20-year old lady doing with a guy twenty-five times her age.' And, you know, I don’t care…it doesn’t make any difference. No, they can call me cradle-snatcher, who cares.
Mircea (via incorrectcassiequotes)
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Cassandra Palmer needs to sleep. But she has a wicked potion hangover and a heaping mound of unprocessed trauma.
With Siren’s Song about to drop at any minute, I decided to finish and post this one-shot that takes place after Ride the Storm.
Canon up to Ride the Storm, but nothing from Dragon’s Claw or the Siren’s Song snippets.
I’d been declared—over my loud and sustained protests—Pythia, the chief seer of the supernatural world.
“You’ll be in trouble when Mircea finds out you gave this to me.” “Probably.” I looked up. “And?” Marco stuck the cigar between his teeth and grinned at me. And then mussed my hair.
Writing prompt: Rhea/ Rico. 32
///I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified///
“Are you ready?” he asked from his seat on the floor.
Rhea was staring at herself in the mirror, but she shifted her eyes and saw Rico’s reflection looking back at her. He was leaning against the wall, long legs stretched out against the beige hotel carpet. His tuxedo jacket was missing, his tie was loose, and his shirt sleeves were pushed up to reveal tattooed forearms.
“Almost,” she said softly. She tightened her grip on the make-up brush in her hand. “Sorry.”
“It doesn’t make a difference to me, topolina,” he said mildly. “But we got our five minute warning ten minutes ago.”
“I know.” Rhea took in a deep breath and let it back out on a count of one–two–three.
She raised the brush to her neck and pressed firmly. The glamourie applied itself instantly, smoothing the shiny, purple scar tissue on her throat into delicate ivory. She twisted her head from one side to another, but the illusion remained perfect.
When she looked behind her, Rico was standing only a few feet away and looking into the mirror along with her.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he murmured, forehead furrowing. Rhea smiled tremulously and turned around to face him, soft pink skirt swirling around her feet.
“I know,” she repeated. “I just don’t want people looking at me. More than they already will.”
“Because you let a vampire escort you,” he said, a frown tightening his generous lips. Rhea stepped forward without thinking, laying a hand gently on his shoulder.
“Because I am Lady Cassandra’s acolyte,” she told him. “Because this is the first celebration since the peace. Because the covens all see me as their… their mascot, and because I’m not wearing white…"
“And I chose a vampire to escort me,” she reminded him, quirking an eyebrow at him.
“I know you hate the spotlight. You could have accepted that posh jackass of a mage–Nigel, or Rupert, or whatever his name was…”
“Timothy,” she interrupted, pursing her lips.
“…and no one would have batted an eye."
"I would have been miserable.”
“And you aren’t going to be miserable now, with everyone whispering behind our backs?"
"Now you’re beginning to sound like me,” Rhea said, laughing in spite of herself. She ran her hand down his arm until she gripped his fingers in her own. “Don’t tell me you’re nervous, Rico.”
“There are some things I can’t protect you from.”
They stood in silence while Rhea squeezed his hand and he squeezed it back. She tilted her head to one side, studying his face.
“I think I’m in love with you. And I’m terrified,” she said slowly and clearly. “But not because I care what anyone thinks. Because I’m–I know I’m practically a child to you, and I can’t be what–”
Rhea stopped speaking because his mouth was on hers, firm and gentle, and his lips were exactly as delicious as they always looked. Her hands suddenly had a mind of their own, bunching into the front of his shirt, and he deepened the kiss–
There was a thunderous pounding in the hallway and Rhea practically levitated away from Rico’s chest.
“I swear to all that is holy, y'all better stop canoodling and get down here right! Now!”
Tami’s voice rang with the power of a woman who had raised countless teenagers.
Rhea tried to calm her breathing, staring wildly up at the vampire. He licked his lips. Then he winked at her.
She burst out laughing.
“You heard the lady,” Rico said, letting just a note of regret linger in his voice. “I’ll grab my coat."
…
Rhea glided into the foyer on Rico’s arm, her fingers resting ever so lightly on his coat sleeve. Her mask of serenity was back in place: eyes large and liquid, cheeks relaxed, mouth arched in a delicate, frozen, almost-smile. The perfect initiate.
Tami was sharp and slick in a long, purple sheath dress. Her braids were wrapped in a perfect spiral atop her head. She was tapping her toe on the marble floor. And she was alone.
"Where’s Cassie?” Rhea asked, craning her head back and forth.
“I’ll give you one guess,” Tami said dourly. “If they aren’t here in sixty seconds, I’m sending Fred in there with a bucket of–”
“I’m here, Tami!” Cassie bellowed, flying down the hallway and half-dragging Pritkin by the hand behind her. Her voluminous skirts frothed around her as she jogged forward, her red-gold curls bounced freely around her shoulders, and her cleavage jiggled precariously against the strapless top of her gown. By contrast, the war mage was uncharacteristically composed: freshly shaved, hair lying flat, trousers crisply ironed. He wore a crimson sash under his jacket, the result of compromise after a lively argument. As it turned out, there was no traditional regalia for a prince of hell. They had to invent one.
Cassie’s eyes shown bright blue as she surveyed her companions. She nodded in satisfaction and not-so-subtly adjusted her bodice.
“Great. Let’s kick some ass, guys.”
She flounced out the door and the others followed. Rhea slid her eyes over to her escort.
“No one’s going to pay attention to me at all,” she muttered, a grin beginning to stretch across her face. Rico elbowed her gently in the side.
“I will,” was his reply.
“You’ll be in trouble when Mircea finds out you gave this to me.” “Probably.” I looked up. “And?” Marco stuck the cigar between his teeth and grinned at me. And then mussed my hair.
A hissing sigh came out of the gloom, and a moment later, the Consul appeared so suddenly that it was almost as if she’d shifted in…
Ancient, kohl-rimmed eyes sized me up, and as usual, they didn’t look as if they liked what they saw.
-Curse the Dawn, p. 103.
I was only a slightly bitchy clairvoyant
Cassie Palmer, Claimed by Shadow
I was only a slightly bitchy clairvoyant
Cassie Palmer, Claimed by Shadow
I was looking through my edits over the past weekend, and saw my first ever edit, which I posted on January 7, 2017, and just had to make an updated edit for my favorite war mage, Caleb Carter. I can’t believe I’ve learned so much about creating graphics, and that it all started with him, and with this fandom!
The warrants for you don’t specify that you have to be brought in alive, but it would certainly be my preference.
Caleb Carter, Curse the Dawn
I was what I was supposed to be.
I was what I was supposed to be.
Karen Chance has posted the first two chapters from Brave the Tempest!