#ladya writes

[theoriginalladya]

WIP Wednesday

How is it Wednesday already? This week has been nuts!

However, I did start re-editing a drabble I'd started a while back. Here are a few paragraphs of the updated version...

(Maxwell is from my Paulo Draco universe)

The afternoon had long ago given away to evening, and yet if anything the Great Hall seemed even more crowded than when the party had started.  Maxwell had lost track with how many people he had spoken, and yet new faces with wide eyes and gasping breaths still approached.  Just how many supporters did the Inquisition have? Finally, after extricating himself from Lord LeFevre and his vainglorious son – thanks to a little bit of trickery and some excellent timing by Josephine – he finally managed to sneak away to the far side of the Great Hall, slipping through the doorway leading to her office and the Great Hall beyond.  All he wanted was a few free moments to catch his breath and be alone.  Was that asking too much?  Surely defeating Corypheus had earned him that small boon at least. Some minutes later, just stepping back into the small entryway between the Great Hall and Josephine’s office and with the intention of tracking down Cullen and have the commander send word to the guards on duty to make sure no one else was allowed inside, he was startled by a knowing chuckle to his left. Maxwell knew that laugh. Squinting through the darkness, his gaze tracking each and every shadow, a slow smile spread across his face as he finally located the source of the sound.  “Should I be worried finding you in the deepest darkest places of this keep?” he asked, only the slightest hint of exhaustion tinging his words.Dorian’s laughter was as smug as the smile on his face as he climbed the rest of the stairs and made his way into the small area of dim lighting.  “I’ve been wondering where you snuck off to, amatus.”

[theoriginalladya]

Our Cabin

Another fluffy piece for our 2026 Stanley Cup Playoffs fluff-fest. This time it's Caleb Shepard and Kaidan.

Title: Our Cabin

Rating: T+

Summary: Major Kaidan Alenko gets lost in his own thoughts until Shepard arrives to 'deal' with the situation.

Characters: Kaidan Alenko, Commander Shepard, James Vega, Steve Cortez

Tags: fluff, kisses (sort of), Majors and Commanders need hugs, Kaidan's thinking too hard again, and Shepard knows it, still early in their relationship, little things count, sort of snuggles, promises of more, why is there ONLY ONE WAY to get down to the Cargo Bay inside the Normandy????

Excerpt:

“Hey, Major, chow time!” Vega calls from the lift as he holds the door for the rest of the crew to hop on.  “Rodriguez is cooking tonight.  Mmmm mmm!  Some good home cookin’!  Almost as good as my abuela would make it!”  “That’s our Mr. Vega.  Always thinking with his stomach,” Cortez quips as he sneaks under the lieutenant’s arm while faking a poke into his belly that leaves everyone laughing, even Vega. “What can I say, Esteban?  Everyone needs some hope cooking now and then.”  Vega sticks his arm back out as the doors to the lift try to close.  “You comin’, Blue?” Kaidan spares them a quick glance from the work bench as he waves them off.  “I’ll catch up with you later.  I want to finish this, first.” “Suit yourself,” Vega warns, “but don’t blame me if there’s no leftovers!” The doors close on good natured laughter, including Kaidan’s, but he bites back a smile and keeps his focus on the task at hand. Their last mission out had been rough.  Too rough, in some respects, but he isn’t about to say that out loud.  They’re in the middle of a war; what else can they expect?  Still, everyone is doing their part, giving all they can and then a bit more. 

[theoriginalladya]

WIP Thursday

Totally spaced that yesterday was Wednesday because of the severe weather in our area. However, have a snippet from some background Dragon Age Origins info for my OCs Serafina and Sean MacKinnon. I've decided to go back and try to wrangle their story into submission. From the series Knights to Remember...

“What about me?” Jamie demanded, rising to his feet.  “I can fight, too!” “You’re too young --” “I’m nearly fifteen!” Bryce, watched the brothers argue before releasing a shrill whistle that silenced them both.  “Your brother is right,” he said after a moment.  When Jamie’s face fell, he continued, “For now.  This conflict with the Orlesians is not one that will end quickly.  In the meantime, you train.” The idea left Malcolm’s stomach churning, but Jamie was just as stubborn as he was and even if Malcolm did get him to safety, it was almost certain Jamie would find a way to come after him.  MacKinnon stubbornness through and through. 

(commissioned art of Serafina and Sean MacKinnon by @xla-hainex)

[theoriginalladya]

WIP Wednesday

Thanks to some questions regarding my Inquisitor in my DABB fic, Deep in the Night, I decided to start drabbling for him. Here's a snippet from the rough draft of what I have so far.

Topping the stairs, Maxwell was not surprised to find Dorian ready and waiting with a glass of wine that he pressed into his hand.  The man liked his drink and was quite content to allow the Inquisition to supply him as compensation for his assistance.  With a smirk sliding into place, Maxwell said, “One for the road, I assume?”  They'd had this conversation already.  As much as they would both delight in remaining together, now that Corypheus was defeated, Dorian had his own duties in Tevinter for the foreseeable future, not the least of which was following up on the state of the Venatori. Dorian lifted his glass to clink against Maxwell’s.  “You won’t get rid of me quite as easily as that, amatus,” he responded then led the way over to the couch where they both took a seat.  “We still have things to discuss.” Maxwell's glass paused just before reaching his lips. “When you say it in that tone, it usually means someone has offended your sensibilities," he observed. Dorian actually snorted his amusement.  “You weren't the one to waste a good half hour in conversation with the Comte de Romaine.  Orlesians! How they think themselves the center of the Theodesian culture and philosophy. I’ve had more interesting conversations with heads of lettuce, let me tell you!”

[theoriginalladya]

WIP Wednesday... a day late and a dollar short

So, I actually had something new I could share! But missed Wednesday and Thursday is all work, so I'm late, but here's a snippet!

Set in Caleb Shepard's post-Reaper War universe... part of the prologue to his post war story, Ag Teacht Abhaile, or Coming Home. For those who know me and my boy, Caleb - If that doesn't give you an idea what the fic is about, I don't know what will lol.

~~~~

There is an old saying, Karma is a bitch.  But today, Karma is on her side. It’s a fluke, really.  By all rights, she shouldn’t be here.  Martial law, restrictions in and out of the city, too many starving, homeless people and not enough of any of it to go around.  They all survived the war, but at what cost?  The galaxy might be free of the Reapers, but there’s another war taking its place, filling the vacuum left behind.  A war of survival.  And if there’s nothing else she’s figured out over the years, it’s that she’s a survivor. The old tunnel beneath the Shannon that served them well in days long gone is still there, though few who once knew of it remain.  Killed when the Reapers arrived.  Turned into horrid Reaper husks.  Sick or injured or left behind when those who could fled to the countryside for the duration.  And even then, many were killed later by Reaper patrols as they spread outward from the cities.  But not her.  She’d made it through a gang war, through the first occupation by the Greystones, she wasn’t going to give up just because a bunch of giant bugs were bent on galactic domination. Nor will she now. 

[theoriginalladya]

Does a happy dance!

I finally have a working draft for my next chapter!!!!!

[theoriginalladya]

Small details for kisses prompt for Iain & Coats: not being able to focus on anything during a conversation because you're too busy staring at your lover's lips

Well, it's almost four years to the day since you asked this of me, my friend. I apologize for the long delay, but I found a draft in my files this morning, and I've spent most of the day fine tuning this one. I hope it works for you! And just to be clear for all readers, as far as Iain's concerned, music is a conversation too. :)

No idea what prompt list this was from, so no link back to it.

Full prompt reply can be found on AO3 here.

~~~

The war is finally over.  For the first time in almost two years, the reapers are gone, and fear is not a constant state of being.  Overhead, darkness has given way to sunlight bathing a battered and bruised – but not beaten – planet.  It’s an almost heavenly experience.  Warmth suffuses the skin, bone deep, welcoming.  Clear, bright skies; the clouds and other pollutants brought with the reapers gone for good.  More than that, the end of the war has brought hope.  Hope to rebuild the world.  Of a future that has been rid of at least one galactic threat.  Of the promise that comes with such a future. Surrounded by the soft strains of Vivaldi, Emmerson Coats finally takes a moment for himself to soak up some of that hope as he savors an altogether different sort of heaven.  The Four Seasons.  Light, airy, magical.  Of course, the only reason he can say he knows the piece is thanks to Maggie. Closing his eyes for a moment, he drifts from memory to memory.  Back to a childhood when she and Luke and their parents lived in the heart of London.  When he was responsible for seeing his younger siblings finished their schoolwork and practiced their daily music lessons until Mum came home late and their father got leave.  When family was more than just a few stragglers who survived the worst galactic occupation ever. Across the room, the music fades out and comes to a stop.  He doesn’t notice at first.  “Hey, Paddington, you still awake over there?”...

[theoriginalladya]

So frustrating to wake up with a bad migraine just over a week into Fictober. I was finally getting back into the swing of writing on a daily basis. sigh. Ah well, I'll start playing catch up tomorrow hopefully.