Fanfiction Work-In-Progress Guessing Game:

Fanfiction Work-In-Progress Guessing Game:

Rhythm

Ooh, nice choice!

From Chapter 9 of Son of Thorns:

He heard something then.  A pure musical note, held effortlessly, but pulsing in a deliberate way.  Moving to a slow, stately rhythm.

Metamorphosis by Truthwatcher_Vez

Rated Teen, 3000 words, Masaka/Izzy Human girls liked cute things. Masaka liked cute things. …And Izzy, with her bleached-blonde hair and heart-shaped face and often-smiling lips, was very, very cute.

“I’m going to date an alien or two,” Izumakamo announced to the rest of the group, who were all gathered at their regular table at the Noodle Pupil noodle shop.  She lifted her chin in determination.  “It’s in my dramascope.  I’d never date one who isn’t hot.”

Shocked silence fell all around the table.  Tojin, Akane and Yumi were all staring at Izzy.  Masaka was staring too, but for entirely different reasons. 

Izzy was always saying startling, outlandish things.  It was part of her personality.  So it shouldn’t have been surprising that she’d used the news about the spaceship launch to share her opinions.  But this....  Masaka felt a little dizzy at the revelation.

Izzy wants to date an alien?

Akane recovered first.  “Your logic, Izzy, is… um....”

“Terrible?” Tojin spoke up.

“I was looking for something more politic.”

“Allegedly terrible?”

“You’ll see,” Izzy continued, completely unphased by their reactions.  “When I have both a handsome alien hunk and a curvy alien knockout fighting over me.”

Masaka continued to stare at her, unable to look away.  Alien… and female....

Keep reading

For the kiss ask game, 13 and Dalinar/Navani!

For #13—"discreetly".  This fic practically wrote itself during my morning commute.  I hope you enjoy it!

*    *    *

Brightness Navani strolled through the grounds of her family estate.  She held Dalinar Kholin’s arm lightly.  The young brightlord had come to call on her again, and her mother had suggested that the two of them take a walk through the gardens.  It wasn’t proper for an unmarried Alethi woman to be in the company of a man unchaperoned, and so the two of them were trailed by Eili, Navani’s senior ladies’ maid.

The weather had been hot and humid for the past few days, and Navani held a seasilk fan in her safehand, rapidly fanning her face.  The embroidered skirts of her formal havah were long and heavy, uncomfortably warm in the direct sunlight along the walkway.

“Let’s sit a moment,” Navani suggested, tugging at Dalinar’s elbow before steering him towards a stone bench nestled in a shaded alcove of shalebark.  Her maid looked momentarily aggrieved to be left standing out in the sun.  The older woman huffed and turned away, pretending to admire a nearby cluster of pale pink vinebuds.

Dalinar had arrived at the estate alone today.  As she settled onto the cool stone bench, Navani absently wondered if his brother Gavilar knew where he was.

It had been her uncle’s idea to play the two brothers against each other.  He had discussed the matter with her parents, who had agreed.  Competition made for a highly favorable marriage contract, they had told her.  That left Navani in the awkward position of juggling the attentions of two very determined Kholins.

Navani was well aware of which match her family favored.  Gavilar was the one with the influence, the lands, the title.

But Dalinar….

Unlike his older brother, Dalinar Kholin didn’t talk much.  Stiff and formal, he seemed content to listen as she spoke about the engineering book she was reading and her latest fabrial tinkering project.  It was very different from her conversations with Gavilar or her past suitors.  Navani found it a novelty.

Navani knew that the Kholins would gain wealth and status from marrying into her noble house.  Gavilar spoke of it often, attempting to appeal to her logic by describing the benefits of a union between their families.  Suddenly, Navani needed to know if that was all she was to the younger brother who currently sat on the bench beside her—a prize… a means to an end.

“Dalinar,” Navani said softly, “I have a question.”  She lifted her fan, tilting it up to shield her face from the prying eyes of the maid.  Then she leaned forward, as if to whisper something in his ear.  He shifted and leaned towards her obligingly—which was good, because he was so storming tall.  She wouldn’t have been able to reach him, otherwise.

Navani raised her freehand, thrilled by her own daring.  Letting her fingers slide along his strong jawline, his skin rough with a dusting of stubble.  She turned his face towards her own, and visibly puzzled, he allowed it.  Then she stretched past the last few inches that separated them and pressed her lips to his.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the flicker of shockspren.  He was far, far stronger than she, and could have broken off the kiss easily.  But he didn’t.  After barely a heartbeat of hesitation, he answered in kind.  Leaning towards her like a parched vinebud reaching out for the first drops of rain.

Oh, she thought, taken aback by the depth of her own response to him.  Oh.  Yes.

The intensity of it drew her in, utterly intoxicating.  Like a man wearing shardplate, there was incredible strength to him, but also a supreme precision and gentleness. 

Dalinar Kholin, Navani thought, growing breathless as the kiss stretched on.  I think I might be falling for you.

Navani began to feel the heat of her maid’s stare beyond the barrier of the fan.  Before the woman could invent an excuse to interrupt them, Navani reluctantly broke away.

Dalinar sat back on the bench.  A boyish grin slowly spread across his face, not quite hiding his bemused expression.  It was utterly endearing. 

“That was… quite a question.”

Navani cleared her throat, folding up the fan and blushing.  “Yes.  Thank you.  You’ve answered it quite eloquently.”

Navani glanced up at him again and felt a sudden pang of sadness.  She knew which of the two brothers her family favored.  Knew that she should let Dalinar go now.  Before she hurt them both.

She knew she should--but found that she just couldn’t do it.  The human heart was not so easily convinced.  Instead, she forced a smile and rose to her feet, and together they resumed their walk through the garden.

Fanfiction Work-In-Progress Guessing Game

Send me a word, if it’s in my wip document I’ll answer your ask with the sentence that it appears in

Why did you give the last of your food to that poorly disguised mimic? You were finally at peace with letting go, but now this odd thing won’t leave you alone and is even turning itself into various items in an attempt to aid you.

ask game: 9 with rlainarin? ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

For ash-sokia, for the write a kiss ask game #9: a kiss in public. 

Author's Note: This fic started out light-hearted and then took a more serious turn during the writing process.  Many, many thanks to cosmere-play, rysn and Priscellie for beta-reading!

Content warnings for classism, speciesism, prejudice

Renarin fidgeted nervously as he and Rlain neared their destination for the evening, a classy new winehouse that had just opened up in an upscale part of the Breakaway market.  It was similar to the establishment on the Shattered Plains where Adolin and Shallan had first gone out together.  When Renarin had heard about the winehouse, it had seemed like a good choice for their first public date.  …Well, a first date somewhere outside of the usual haunts frequented by the members of Bridge Four.  Renarin had heard that this winehouse was supposed to have a relaxing atmosphere and a truly impressive list of wines.

Rlain had initially seemed hesitant about the idea, but ultimately he had given in to Renarin’s enthusiasm, and had agreed they should give it a try.

Renarin was so caught up in his own nerves that he almost didn’t notice the odd look that the master-servant at the door gave him as she double-checked his reservation.  As they were being shown to a table, Renarin thought he could feel her staring at his back.  There were whispers at the tables surrounding them, and someone sniggered.  Renarin flushed and tried to ignore it.  He’d grown too comfortable in Adolin’s shadow when he was among other Alethi lighteyes, forgetting how much Adolin’s presence protected him from being targeted as the ‘strange Kholin’.

Renarin took his time reviewing the wine lists, which were written out in Alethi glyphs as well as women’s script.  Rlain professed that he found the number of choices overwhelming, and asked Renarin for advice.  Renarin gladly obliged.  As he began sharing his expertise regarding all of the different wines, something in him began to relax.  Rlain listened attentively, offering questions here or there, and eventually they settled on some specialty wines from northern Azir.  A glass of sapphire for Renarin and a red for Rlain.

The wine really was excellent, and the alcohol took the edge from Renarin’s nervousness.  As the two of them continued to make comfortable small talk, Rlain raised a hand in a tentative gesture to request a refill of his water goblet.  Renarin noticed immediately when the signal was overlooked by the winehouse staff.  He followed up by flagging a servant himself, and the man quickly came over with a pitcher and refilled their glasses.  A little while later, the same thing happened again.  Then Renarin ordered them another round of wine--orange this time in accordance with the Codes.  Another master-servant brought Renarin’s wine over quickly.  Rlain’s… didn’t arrive.

Oh.  What was happening finally began to sink in.  The looks and the whispers hadn’t been about him.  Or they hadn’t entirely been about him.  Rlain had known, or had suspected this would happen.  He’d expressed hesitancy when they’d first discussed the winehouse--pointing out that darkeyes typically wouldn’t be allowed into such a place, and singers had the darkest eyes of all.  Renarin had brushed off the concern at the time, responding that Rlain was a Knight Radiant now, and Radiants belonged to a class all their own.

Apparently, not everyone agreed with that sentiment.

He was suddenly deeply mortified, because he hadn’t really spared a second thought about the situation from Rlain’s perspective.  Renarin had wanted to go out so that they could have a good time together, but he had caused Rlain pain without meaning to. 

“I’m sorry,” Renarin said abruptly, with genuine remorse.  “I didn’t mean for our date to turn out like this.”  He reached across the table and took both of Rlain’s hands in his own.

Apparently, not everyone had heard the new gossip that Dalinar Kholin’s son and the listener from Bridge Four were openly courting, either.  A brightlady at a nearby table gasped and visibly recoiled from them, shockspren forming and breaking in the air around her head.  Behind her, a master-servant on the way to deliver wine to another patron forgot her training and nearly fumbled her tray as she stared.  And at yet another table, an elderly brightlord in Bethab colors muttered something harshly under his breath, his brows drawing downward as he attracted a bevy of aversionspren.

That was the very last straw.  Something in Renarin snapped, filling him with fury.  It didn’t often show itself, but he had his father’s temper.  Having to witness the insults to Rlain, and to the two of them together, was absolutely intolerable.

Renarin slid his chair out from the table with a long scraping sound that made conversations trail off and drew every eye in the winehouse.  Then he rose and walked around the side of the table to stand over Rlain, placing a hand firmly on the back of his chair.  He left a trail of bubbling angerspren in his wake.

The listener eyed him suspiciously.  “What are you…?”

Renarin drew in a deep breath as he scanned the entire room.  Then he attempted to channel his cousin Jasnah as he spoke out loudly, letting the tone of his voice drop to match the temperature of the snow caps outside the tower.

“The wine here is good, and the selection is excellent.  But the service is appalling, and the ambiance is even worse.  A brightlord’s guest is a brightlord’s guest, deserving to be treated with dignity and respect.  No one here is in any position to dare question whom a brightlord of the second dahn chooses to invite out for the evening.  Especially when that guest is a storming war hero and a Knight Radiant.”

Renarin looked down at Rlain’s upturned face, and raised his other hand to cup his cheek.  He spared a moment to hope that he wasn’t being too presumptuous, then he stooped down and firmly kissed him.

The kiss was chaste, determined, defiant.  He meant it to be a deliberate message to everyone else in the room.  You can’t ignore us and we’re not going anywhere.  This is something you’re just going to have to get used to.

Rlain went very still--not drawing away, but not exactly reciprocating either.  It caused a bit of Renarin’s anger to slide sideways.  You’re doing this wrong, he told himself critically.  He’d been attempting to help, but had just wound up messing things up, as always. 

Then the listener’s quiet humming changed subtly, shifting to something calmer.  Rlain leaned in and returned the kiss, and Renarin felt himself relax marginally.

When Renarin drew himself back up to his full height again, he quickly spotted the man whose clothing marked him as the head master-servant of the winehouse.  He glared and gestured pointedly down at Rlain’s wineglass, still sitting empty on the table.  The man got the message, and another master-servant quickly scurried over with the missing goblet of orange wine.    

Renarin returned to his seat, his anger slowly dissipating.  He felt the weight of Rlain’s gaze on him as the listener sipped at his wine, and it caused a flush to rise in his face.  “I’m sorry,” Renarin apologized again, as the ambient noise of the winehouse began to resume.  “I probably should have handled that differently.”

“Probably,” Rlain agreed mildly.  The cadence of the word was unfamiliar, and Renarin wished he understood enough about the rhythms to know which one Rlain was attuning right now.  “Still, you chose to speak up, to a room full of lighteyes.  I…no one’s ever really done that for me before.”  Slowly, he extended a hand across the table.  Renarin reached out and took it, twining their fingers together.

Renarin had acted out of anger in the moment, drawing everyone’s attention to them without even asking Rlain what he wanted.  That had been a mistake.  They were courting now, and situations like this would almost certainly happen again.  Moving forward, he resolved to do better.

As they continued to drink their wine in silence, Rlain spoke again.  “In my experience, people don’t change unless they’re given a reason.  I love Bridge Four, but they never would have let me carry a spear if I hadn’t made a point of asking first.”  He looked up and met Renarin’s eyes.  “So yes, I’m willing to make lighteyes uncomfortable if it causes some of them to confront their own perceptions of the singers.  If there’s a chance that it results in one tiny step towards singers being more accepted at Urithiru.”

Renarin nodded thoughtfully. Then he smiled at Rlain.  “Making lighteyes uncomfortable is kind of my specialty.”

Rlain smiled back at him.  “I appreciate that. Now why don't we take a look at the wine list again.  I’d be interested in trying that vintage from Tu Bayla….”