#*|* there is a beginning but rarely an end *|* :: open starter

[amidst-snow-and-ice-moved]

For: Open Verse: The Hobbit | Unexpected Parent

night time returns to Imladris were rarely, if ever, done by Elrohir and Elladan. they much preferred to travel home in the light of day, especially after crossing the Redhorn Pass. a place that had taken their mother from them years earlier and was still rather dangerous, even without Orcs hiding there.

although the visit to Lothlorien had gone smoothly, the return trip back had been delayed by nearly two weeks. a rather short letter warning the Lord of Imladris about their late arrival had been sent. to try and prevent any worry about the twins befalling a similar fate to Lady Celebrian.

still, there was a flicker of relief deep inside as the pair crossed the Ford of Bruinen. silver eyes glanced at his elder twin and then Elrohir rode on ahead, wanting to get the wrapped bundle he held inside. he left his horse to be sorted out by his brother and hurried to his room, not even pausing to speak to his father.

a quiet conversation had the eyes widening on of the nearby maids, who quickly went to find the items Elrohir had requested. he didn't bother changing out of his travelling gear, focusing more on the still sleeping elfling he'd been carrying.

"Thank you." his glance up was brief as the door to his room open and he nodded towards his desk. not really taking on board who else was in the room with him.

[amid-ice-and-snow]

recently tools, jewellery and small wooden toys had started to appear in some of the markets on Valinor. there was nothing to recognise who created them, except for a small hidden yinyang symbol; which only those from Gondolin would know. but the silent blacksmith was still on Arda- or so many thought.

for only his grandparents and father knew that Halrë had been called back by the Valar just under a year ago. yet he was hiding up in the mountains, avoiding those who once knew him and only appearing when he absolutely needed to. not wishing to disrupt anyone's life, including that of his King and former partner.

[dreamisols]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ COFFEE TALK

INTRODUCTION FIC TO 'THE ART OF REMEMBRANCE'

—the rare moments of free time allow you and your boyfriend to talk about anything and everything that comes to mind... at this point, you two might as well be the third division's free podcast! —wc: 1050; fluff but mostly crack —original canon, x fem!reader, you and hoshina are just silly, hibino leno and kikoru mentions, one cuss, general pov more or less, i advocate for silly unhinged dynamics —rimi's ramble: told myself not to rush the series but i wrote this in one sitting... my summer's gonna be spent writing about this man, buckle up folks! >:]

The Third Division considers you and Hoshina as their power couple. 

Charming looks paired with commanding auras, levels of strength that no one would dare go against, all topped off with endearing one-of-a-kind personalities. Two puzzle pieces that fit as if they’re made for each other.

Everyone within the division quickly accepted and supported your relationship with the Vice Captain. And with that support comes your status as the “local love team"—an inside joke and a makeshift badge of honor (if one could even call it that).

In their defense, there isn't even any sort of competition to begin with. You two are the only couple within the division.

Every member, no matter how long they’ve been in the Defense Force, holds high respect towards both of you. They trust you with a lot of things—the wisdom you both give to your members is actually useful, and your attack combos on the field are nothing to scoff at. 

Yes, they would trust you two with their lives, and yes, the way they’d say it might blur the lines of comedy and seriousness. There’s simply one thing that’s holding everyone off…

No one trusts the both of you with coffee. 

Ironic, considering it’s one of Vice Captain Hoshina’s favorite things. 

Another inside joke is that whenever a member enters the lounge room and they’re greeted by the rich inviting scent of brewed coffee, they will be tuning in to some sort of a podcast episode hosted by their one and only dynamic duo. 

No one session is the same. Sometimes you two end up talking about some story you read or some personal experiences. Other days, it’s just opening as many controversial topics as you both can while expressing your opinions in a lighthearted debate. One time, to the division’s surprise, you two started doing a deep dive into a conspiracy theory, complete with a whole digital presentation and proven statistics. 

It’s even more surprising how convincingly well put the entire thing was to the point even Captain Ashiro listened in with interest. 

The members found it pleasant, enjoyable even. A chance to hold more conversations about different non-kaiju-related topics thanks to you and Hoshina’s exceptionally random conversation starters.

All they ask is that you guys don’t open up a topic that might get you random looks at best, or—hypothetically—get the both of you canceled on the internet at worst.   

Today was one of those days, the team figured, when you and your boyfriend step into the (initially busy) lounge with matching porcelain cups. Hibino, Leno, and Kikoru were the ones present in the room… this marks their first time listening in on the two of you rambling.

“I don’t know, Soshiro-san, don’t you think that may be a little too intense?” you made a beeline and assumed your spot on the couch right in front of Kikoru, drinking from your cup the moment you sat on the soft cushion.

Hoshina follows after you and settles right by your side, “No way!” If he weren’t holding anything, you can envision the way he’d cross his arms and huff. He mimics your movements from a while ago, taking a sip from his drink before placing the cup down with a small ‘clink!’. 

A childish pout graces his lips as he stares right at you. “If you think hard enough, I’m telling ya, dicing those kaiju is just like makin’ intricate fruit carvings!”

May the gods give the juniors strength because what the actual fuck were you two talking about?

The room is radio silent. You and Hoshina continue to glare at each other as if you’re both in a mental debate. Which seems likely enough.  

Kikoru nudges Leno’s arm to get him to break the ice and the poor guy sputters. Hibino breaks into a cold sweat when he catches the way you and Hoshina sharply look at the three of them. 

“V-Vice Captain..! (Name)-san… go–good afternoon!” Leno prays his salute doesn’t give away the fact he’s shaking.

By record, this may have to be the oddest conversation they’ve heard in passing.

You flash the three of them a small smile and Hoshina does a small wave of his hands. Not even a second later, the man beside you jumps at the opportunity to find allies for his claim.

“You guys think that slicin' kaiju is like slicing fruits, right?”

Bless your soul that you’re stubborn enough to match his energy. “If anything, it’s more like carving wood! You have to be intricate about it!” 

Hoshina looks back at you like you’ve transformed into the kaiju you were talking about, “Wood carving?! Darlin’ I love you more than the coffee I’m drinking right now, but you’ve reached a new level of insanity!”

“Comparing anything to kaiju neutralization is already some form of insanity…” Leno whispers under his breath. “Let alone wood carving and fruit dicing…” Kikoru murmurs back in agreement. 

“Aww, you love me more than coffee?”

The immediate shift from a lighthearted argument to some sappy lovey dovey confession while talking about carving patterns on kaiju may be just as impressive as your combat prowess, the trio decides. 

Hibino breathes a sigh of relief and mumbles, “Those two fit each other so well… wonder if it’s a match made in heaven or hell…”

“We’re soulmates!” Hoshina corrects him, instinctively reaching out to hold your hands as if it’ll prove his point further. He gently laces his fingers with yours before glowering at Hibino, “You also called us demons with the whole 'hell' comment. Thirty push-ups for the three of you, ya hear?”

Leno nudges his senior’s ribs like he wants to end him right then and there. Kikoru was probably devising ways to successfully kill him on the spot. Hibino’s fighting for his life, but he still manages to catch the way you and Hoshina look at each other with mirroring lovesick smiles. 

If he manages to scrape out alive, maybe this coffee talk wasn’t that bad.

likes and reblogs are appreciated, but please don’t copy or repost my work! [edited: 062424]

[goshdangronpa]

Where to begin in sharing my thoughts on Class of '09: The Flip Side ...

Well, how about the positives? Everything I've seen is so negative, and trust me, I have thoughts. But I enjoyed quite a lot of it, and I wanna do my part to balance out the discourse. So, here's a list.

Jecka makes for an interesting protagonist compared to Nicole. She's far more emotional - I swear, she breaks down crying in every route, which is genuinely disconcerting. She's also way less savvy. I'm not fond of how overwhelmingly negative these endings are (more on that in another post), but it at least makes sense. Nicole gets the upper hand in several endings from the previous two games because she's usually cunning enough to avoid potential problems, manipulate her way out of them, and/or get people in serious trouble. Jecka may be a bit of a bitch (and I love her for it!), but as she says in one ending, she kinda needs Nicole. Putting her in the protag role isn't just subbing her in for Nicole. Flip Side explores how things would go for someone with slightly more conscience and way less guile.

Jecka's so goddamn gay, oh my god. Wanting to look for a "goth work girlfriend" at Hot Topic. "I can afford holes, Imma buy me some hoes!" Kissing Ari! She says she only did the latter for attention, but girl ... girl. Someday she'll ask someone "Doesn't every girl think about sleeping with their gal pals?" and be shocked when that someone says no. (Tbh when I heard that one route would explore a previous game's route from Jecka's perspective, and when I saw the CG of the jeckari kiss on Tumblr, I created an entire plotline in my head that didn't come to fruition. Pity - it'd at least make for a good fanfic.)

"It's been seven seconds." The scenes based on this bit are some of the funniest in the whole series ("Why don't you magically gather some friends?"). Like something straight out of South Park. If the Co09 anime Kickstarter had reached the stretch goal of a full 25-minute episode, would this have been the script? I've heard people say that Flip Side doesn't feel like Class of '09, or that the dialogue isn't as good in this one, but this part, among others, works for me. "Can anyone do the math?" "... I thought this was health."

I'm a lifelong FYE patron who will drive 40-odd minutes to visit the only remaining store in my entire region. So for me especially, the entire FYE storyline was a ride. It reminded me of American Dad, where every episode turns something mundane into an elaborate conspiracy or wild adventure into its secret underbelly. It's awesome from beginning to ... well, not the end, but it's mostly awesome. And we get to hang out with Kelly! That's neat!

This is apparently my hottest take: the "foot whore" routes are not that bad. For starters, they're not presented in a way that fetishizes Jecka herself. You never see her feet, or see what she does with them. Yall can still find the suggestion of it gross if you want, but comparisons to Quentin Tarantino seem unwarranted! More importantly, the foot services enable the writers to explore topics of sex work while keeping the game light on actual sexual activity. It's rare to see such subject matter broached in a thing like this, yet we get to see how circumstances can pull desperate people into selling their bodies, and how swiftly and easily they can have their boundaries violated and their safety compromised by the customers they depend on. The increasing disruption of normal conversations by the text notifications of Jeffery's donations is a genuinely despairing plot device. Both endings are troubling for different reasons (again, that's for another post), but the game's got something to say in a way that, to me, is fairly mature yet distinctly Class of '09. (Credit to my partner for this observation, I'm so grateful I could play this with them.)

... Uh ... the music sting from the opening monologue bumps ... It sounds more Class of '17 than Class of '09, but it's still cool ...

Okay so I can't think of more, at least not right now. (EDIT: How did I forget the Hatman? That was cute!) Flip Side may be the most flawed game in the series, but it's still pretty good. At the very least, I don't think it's the shitshow other people are making it out to be ... though there is a smell. I'll go deeper on the negatives in other posts.

[iomadachd]

Closed Starter for @alastors-radioshow

The other shoe had to drop eventually. There was always another shoe when it came to the Ghost Project. Ghouls and Papas came and went, but the Project kept moving along despite, or maybe because of, death and the passage of time.

Dewdrop hadn't expected that other shoe so soon. Even when Aether was released from his contract, Dewdrop still felt confident in his place within the band up until today. Why waste the time and effort of two failed fire summonings and an element change by banishing the Ghoul that was the result of it?

The blood-red envelope handed to him by a sibling knocked all that confidence down into the ground and into the catacombs where Papas I, II, and III lay below his feet.

Imperator so rarely sent these types of letters, and it was never anything good. The last red envelope had been for Aether. Letters before that... well, they had come after the event in question. Omega, Alpha, and the others hadn't had the chance to dread the end.

He doesn't bother to read it, and he doesn't leave it behind. He can't do that to the others. He tucks it into his shirt and slips out the door to take the long way to her office. He can put off the inevitable for a little while longer. Just five more minutes topside.

Rain gasps awake, magic thrumming through them screaming that something's gone horribly wrong. They've felt this before, and that had been bad enough. At first, they think it's just a nightmare, but the feeling isn't dissipating like a nightmare would. It's getting worse, and they can hear the others moving around, doors opening, and muffled words that sound just a touch too loud to be greetings.

It's not that they're bonded with the other band ghouls, they're not exactly a pack. It's simply that if you spend enough time around a specific set of people, you get a sense of what everyone feels like, and Rain's gotten comfortable feeling the other elements around them.

Stepping out into the main common room, the others have already beaten them there, in varying states of dress, but every single one is looking to see who doesn't join them.

Rain doesn't have a heart as far as they know, but they swear it breaks when Mountain realizes Dewdrop isn't with them because his howl is the most painful sound they've ever heard. They might still prefer it to the heartbroken expressions on Phantom and Aurora's faces when it's explained to them what's just happened.

They don't know how to process the idea of the band without Dewdrop. This whole time they've been topside, the band is all they've known. Yes, this year was the first big change, but it was still largely the same. Dewdrop is just... such a big part of it. He is... was their lead guitarist, the head of the Ghouls. He'd come into his own finally taking over fully after Aether had left.

How did they begin to cope with this?

Oh... oh no.

They step back, and then again, turning tail and walking towards Dew's room with purpose. They know who to tell, and who they have to tell because one of the others will be running to find Papa. They have to be the one to tell Alastor.

Rain still hesitates at the door, even knowing that Dew isn't there to be disturbed, and that hurts even more. They enter, and the bed is cold. The bed's never been cold before. Dew always has something in there to keep it warmed, if he's not in there himself.

It takes longer than they'd like to find the portal Dew uses to communicate with Alastor, and their hands tremble slightly as they hold it up in front of them.

"Show me Alastor, please..." they request, and they aren't even sure if it will listen to them.

It does, even though it's slow to do so. Maybe the portal knows what's coming as well, or it's just naturally slow. The relief that it does doesn't override all that they're feeling in that moment.

How does one inform a Prince of Hell that their consort has been banished?

They know who Alastor's expecting, so the surprise isn't unexpected, but Rain's eyes widen all the same.

"I... Dewdrop's been Banished to the Pit."

[giggly-squiggily]

Saw the open prompt and this came to my head:

Rin and Chigiri (platonic cuz I'm not sure how one would write them romantically but if you're up for an extra challenge you can try)

Prompt: 'why spend your time on that?'

Was thinking minimal/mild tickle aka accidentally poking a ticklish spot and a competitive back and forth.

Honestly looking at this I'm not even sure how this would work... 😅

Either way, enjoy whichever prompts you decide to write for!✨✨

Oooo, I like this! The rarest of rare pairs! :D Gonna be so real, anon; I never thought I'd write something with Rin and Chigiri- but this was so fun??? I definitely need to explore this pair more often! I've gotcha covered!

“Why spend all your time on that?” Rin furrowed his brow as he watched Chigiri blow dry his hair, watching the red strands float gracefully around his shoulders.

“Same reason you do yoga cooldowns after practice. It’s relaxing.” The redhead shrugged a shoulder as he squeezed hair product in his hand, running it through the ends. “Puts me in a good mental place after a stressful day.”

Rin could understand that. Yoga or hair care, everyone had their nighttime routine. His eyes traveled to the comb Chigiri dug out of his bag, the words escaping before he could stop them. “Can I do that?”

Pinkish red eyes turned to him, a brow raised. Rin felt himself flush as he looked elsewhere. “Forget it.”

“No way. Did the Rin Itoshi just offer to comb my hair for me?” The small comb was put in his hand, making Rin look back at him. His voice was teasing, but he did look happy. “If you’re serious…?”

Rin looked at him, then at the comb. With a resigned sigh, he gestured for the other boy to turn around, beginning his work. Wow- it was as soft as it looked too.

“You’re really good at this. Do you have any sisters?” Chigiri asked, relaxing at the touch.

“No sisters. Cousins though- three little girls.” He reached out to lift some of Chigiri’s hair by his neck, brow raised when the redhead twitched. “Man, you’re as ticklish as they say.”

“Shush.” A pretty red spread over the back of Chigiri’s neck, making Rin smile some. He carried on combing his hair, “accidentally” letting his fingers brush against the older boy’s neck and ears from time to time. When he trailed a finger against the center of his neck, that’s when Chigiri responded.

“Gah!” Rin yelped when his knee was squeezed, nearly dropping the comb. “Oi!”

“‘Oi’ yourself- don’t forget I have access to your knees.” Chigiri shot him a devious grin, eyes twinkling with mischief as he left his hand resting against Rin’s leg. “And I know several massage techniques that really tickle. Keep sneaking pokes and see what happens.”

“You're terrible.” Rin liked him more already.

“And you’re a dork- surprising for someone so stoic.” Chigiri laughed as he got cozy once more, Rin resuming his combing. “Tell me more about your cousins. Do they make you dress up with makeup and all that?”

“I will slit your throat with this.” Rin growled, pretending to do so with the comb as Chigiri cackled in delight. Okay- he really liked Chigiri.

Maybe this wasn’t such a bad way to spend his free time.

Send me a sentence starter and I'll write a dabble for you! :D

[mercurygray]

Hi Merc! How do you feel about prompt nr 16 (daybreak) for my Clubmobile girls? Doesn't have to be anything romantic if you're not vibing with it, just the girls

Thank you 💜

- your Fred Friend

I hope this works for you, Fred Friend!

Technically, it was Mary's fault.

Mission days were always early starts - 3:00 a.m. to roll out of bed in the old, crumbling mansion the Red Cross was renting for them, and pull the truck out from the shed to be on the road and catch the end of the 5:30 am run on the equipment shed with hot coffee and a mix of yesterday's leftovers and today's starter batch, usually too doughy as the oil came up to temperature.

It was cold out before the sun came up, and they kept the windows of the truck closed while they started the oil and heated the urns for coffee, the small space cramped but warm enough, with the four of them and the fryers going. Moods were infectious, in a small space like this, and Tatty seemed to have slept on the wrong side of the bed the way she was banging pans and slamming doors and grumbling about how she'd like to shoot the man who invented early mornings and gas stoves that wouldn't light.

Anyway, she was a little ridiculous, like early mornings had only just been invented and they hadn't been doing this for months on end, and Mary had started humming, and then Helen was doing it too, and by the time the tune got to Fred it had harmony and a rhythm section with the tongs and a measuring cup until Tatty turned around, blazing, and Fred could only grin.

"Oh, she kicked out my windshield," she started, still drumming along with the tongs, and the rest picked up, "And she hit me over the head She cussed and cried and said I lied And she wished that I was dead! Oh, lay that pistol down, babe, lay that pistol down Pistol packing mama, lay that pistol down."

The coin could have fallen on either side, but Tatty, it seemed, had complained enough for one morning. She rolled her eyes and declared she was going to let the mess hall know they were here, leaving the three of them to open the windows, still laughing about their improvised jam session.

It seemed they already had a customer - or an audience. Captain Brennan was waiting in the half-light of dawn with a cup of coffee already in hand and a clipboard under her arm, uniform beautiful and crisp. (She was always well dressed, whether by habit or practice - all the girls said so. Not too many women could make the green and pinks look chic, but by god, would Marion Brennan try.)

"You're all very chipper this morning," the intelligence officer observed, waiting a respectful distance away as they rolled up the windows and started putting out the doughnut racks.

"Sorry, ma'am," Helen offered quietly. (Brennan intimidated her, for reasons Fred couldn't ever quite understand - but then, perhaps she was a little intimidating, with her beautiful hair and her rank and her surety about her station. And how many other women were walking around air bases with captain's bars and the complete trust of the C.O.? Brennan's word was law and her good opinion gold.)

Brennan chuckled, her smile rare and warm. "Why are you apologizing? It's good to see smiles this early."

"Get you a fresh cup, Captain?" Mary asked, gesturing with the pot she was holding.

"You may, Mary, thank you." Brennan shook the remnants out of her cup and onto the grass, and offered Mary the now-empty mug. "If we're being honest, I like your coffee more than I do the mess hall's."

"Isn't it a little early for you, ma'am?" Fred asked, leaning over the window holding the sugar shaker so the Captain could help herself. It was only the flight officers in the earliest briefings, pilots and bombardiers and navigators, and Brennan certainly wasn't one of them. (Any minute now they'd all be done suiting up, and those doors would open and the whole lot of them would begin the hike out to the trucks that would take them out to the hardstands.)

"You know what they say about early birds and worms. I need to review today's run with Major Bowman, after they've sent them all out so I can brief my team. And we have photos from yesterday's run to review and send on to wing."

"Those worms won't know what hit them," Fred replied with a smile. Another smile from Brennan.

"What worms now?" Colonel Harding appeared from the direction of the briefing hut, hat tucked under his arm, Jack Kidd following close behind him.

"The worms the group's going to bomb today, sir," Mary offered, holding out a fresh mug. "Coffee for you? Major Kidd, some coffee?"

"Thank you, Mary. Mighty kind." Harding took it and drank deeply before anyone could offer powdered milk or sugar, watching as Kidd stepped away to speak with Brennan.

The song was still stuck in Fred's head as she continued setting the mugs and doughnuts out for service, glancing up to see Harding's face in the dim of daybreak, watching the conversation between his XO and his intelligence captain with an expression that Fred thought she would call pride, and, in another space and a different light, perhaps something like love.

Oh, lay that pistol down, babe, lay that pistol down Pistol packing mama, lay that pistol down.

[bluerose5]

Since I'm slowly but surely getting through the game and probably will wait til I get Astarion's full story before I write any fic, some starter thoughts on if he and Zevran met. Probably set within the context of BG3 because I feel like it's a more flexible setting to work with than DA.

Zevran still having pretty much his same background, working for an assassin's guild called the Crows. Maybe a powerful enemy of Cazador's knows not entirely of the ritual but that he believes Astarion is key to something. Puts out a contract. Most assassins aren't willing to anger the likes of Cazador or tbh they're in his pocket. Maybe there are even rumors that circulate in the shadows of his true nature. Either way, Zevran is the one that takes the contract for the same reasons as DAO. There's an ambush. Tav questions him. Tav recruits him. Astarion disapproves.

The expected sass and flirting occurs of course, but it soon turns into a situation of like recognizing like. They make it into an unsaid competition of sorts instead of taking any of it seriously, always trying to one-up the other. If any of the others complain, they both turn their words on them instead.

Zevran probably brings up their kills at first. When Astarion doesn't seem keen on opening up about what he did under Cazador, Zevran asks him about what he's done instead during his time adventuring, which he is more open to bragging about. Surprise, the two of them bond over tales of murders they've committed while the others listen in, some more disturbed than others by their flippant approach.

Yes, yes, have to bring up lockpicking! Zevran trying to show off on some tiny, little chest that's easy to pick. Meanwhile, Astarion is over here going, "Watch this." and picking every door and chest in sight. Zevran acts disgruntled but highly approves.

Likewise, any time they're in a populated area, they make a game out of it to see who can pickpocket/steal the most valuable items by the end of the trip. Tav is not amused if this ends up, on the rare occasion, alerting the guards and landing them in jail. Good thing they'd be more than happy to lead the jailbreak.

Any time they head out, both of them try to guess where the other has concealed any daggers. They switch up how many and where they keep them each time.

The first time Zevran happens to see Astarion's back —clearly he doesn't let just everyone see it or linger on it at least— rather than draw too much attention to it, Zevran probably makes light of it, says it's quite a display, and then draws attention to his own scars to make Astarion feel more at ease. Welcomes it when Astarion asks questions until they're both exchanging stories again, although their smiles are more wistful than joyous when they recount the torture they've endured at their masters' hands.

No, I'm not avoiding the obvious. Sex? Yeah, they probably had sex early on, but the instant Astarion grows distant, I could see Zevran withdrawing as well. Neither of them are stupid. Both of them are more perceptive than people give them credit for. That first time, honestly, probably felt "tainted" for both of them after the fact. They don't bring it up for a while really.

On another, similar note, the instant one of them brings up using sex or their body as a tool, all of it suddenly clicks. It's essentially the spiderman meme.

The pure frustration that comes up when the other calls them out on their bullshit because they know best when one of them is putting on airs rather than speaking his mind.

Whether Zevran lets Astarion drink from him or not, I'd say probably so. In the beginning, it happens only if there was something in it for Zevran to gain from the exchange. Later, he would be more open to it when he trusts Astarion, although he'd joke that he'd prefer it after a little charming and wooing.

I honestly could see them having a strong bond, romantic or platonic. Either one could work in my opinion. It, like any relationship, would just take a lot of work and effort on both ends. Both of them learning to simply exist with someone who understands them more than anyone else...

Seriously, think about them being comfortable around each other and getting all the hugs, cuddles, and kisses they can ask for. Need I say more?

[astrronomemes]

SLEEPING AT LAST: ATLAS I STARTERS (PART II)

a collection of lyrics from the Sleeping At Last album, Atlas I. change & alter as needed.

“We made our families proud, but scared at the same time.”

“We promised we’d be safe.” 

“Another lie from the front lines.”

“Lay your weapons down!” 

“They’re calling off the war, on account of losing track of what we’re fighting for.”

“Let the brokenness be felt until you reach the other side.”

“There is goodness in the heart of every broken man who comes right up to the edge of losing everything he has.”

“We’re young enough to try to build a better life.”

“I don’t know who I am, but now I know who I’m not.”

“Make my messes matter. Make this chaos count.”

“You taught me the courage of stars before you left — how light carries on endlessly, even after death.”

“How rare and beautiful it is to even exist.”

“I’d give anything to hear you say it one more time.”

“How rare and beautiful it truly is that we exist.”

“If brokenness is a form of art, I must be a poster-child prodigy.”

“If brokenness is a work of art, surely this must be my masterpiece.”

“I’m only honest when it rains — if I time it right, the thunder breaks when I open my mouth.”

“I want to love you, but I don’t know how.”

“Show me where my armor ends. Show me where my skin begins.”

“The heaviness that I hold in my heart has been crushing me.”

“I’ve been worried all my life.”

“I’ve always been afraid of heights.”

“We will call this place our home.”

“Smaller than dust on this map lies the greatest thing we have — the dirt in which our roots may grow, and the right to call it home.”

“Some truths are sharper than knives.”

“No matter what category you fit into, truth has got its sights set on you.”

“If truth is north, then I am true south.”

“I can’t figure it out. God knows I’ve tried.”

“Some truths are sewn into our DNA.”

“Kids will be kids.”

“I want to remember how to feel like I did.”

“We’ll be just fine. I know that we will. I just know that we will.”

“Time moves slow when half of your heart has yet to come home.”

“I can’t get you out of my mind.”

[cheeriecherrymain]

Okay,okay,our lovely writer,what do you think about Viktor and an artist s/o who adores him and shows it through sneakily creating a life-size scuplture of him for the Undercity to remind them they have someone looking out for them,even if in Piltover?

I kind of meshed painting and sculpting because I....don't really know how sculpting works. I might doodle a shitty picture of this at some point though.

Requests are open my loves (both SFW/MSFW)

---

Viktor x Reader

-Viktor doesn’t realize at first where you’ve been sneaking off to. He knows you’re going somewhere, and every time he catches you, you say it’s ‘to work on art’. He’s a bit confused as to why you won’t just show him what you’re working on - you’ve shown him all your other works in progress.

-What’s so different about this one?

-Many things, apparently. For starters, you’re not working in your usual studio, surrounded by bright natural light and with access to every imaginable medium. He comes by to visit on one of his rare free afternoons, only to run into one of your artist friends, who informs him that she hasn’t seen you in a couple of days.

-Informs him that you packed up a bunch of paints into a backpack, and took off in the direction of the undercity.

-He starts worrying the moment he realizes where you are. He knows that not everything about his home is bad - knows that there are a lot of good people, who are smart and thoughtful and kind. People who wouldn’t bat an eyelash at you, and would leave you be to do whatever it is you’re doing.

-It’s the less than savory characters he’s stressed about. The select few who would take advantage of you, if the opportunity arose. The few who were beyond desperate, looking for an easy way to put a couple cents in their pocket.

-He doesn’t even know what part of the undercity you’re in, and he knows there’s no sense in looking. If he were to ask around, it would only draw more attention to you, and that’s the last thing he wants.

-All he hopes for is that you’ll go undetected long enough to come home to him, where he can hopefully talk some sense into you.

—

-You do end up coming home, late into the evening, smelling of pollution and paint fumes, covered in smacks of colour from head to toe. 

-You’re obviously startled when you stumble across him on the way to the bathroom, seated comfortable in your little shared lounge, reading one of the books you’d suggested to him. You freeze in the doorway, like a deer in headlights, as he glances up at you.

-You know you’ve been caught.

-You know he’s displeased.

- “I know what this looks like-” you begin, but he’s quick to hold a hand up to shush you. You bite the inside of your cheek, indignantly setting your hands on your hips.

- “You’ve been going to the undercity,” he states, bluntly. “You’ve been going to the undercity, unaccompanied, and without telling anyone. Despite the warnings I’ve given you about how unsafe it is there - especially for someone like you!”

-You want to argue with him, to push back against his nagging, even though you know he’s got a point. You know that you’re an easy target. Even with your old, paint-covered clothes on, you’re too pristine, too done up, to have come from anywhere other than Piltover.

- “I had a good reason,” you grumble, tactfully avoiding his gaze. “It was supposed to be a surprise, a whole thing, but…”

-You sigh, your posture suddenly relaxing and all the fight in you dissipating. Frustrated as he may be, you know that Viktor only wants you to be safe, no matter where you go. You know that if something were to happen to you - something you could have prevented, no less…it would ruin him.

-Tentatively, you hold your hand out to him, still covered in dried pigments. He eyes you warily, his gaze flicking up to your face.

- “I’ll show you what I’ve been working on,” you clarify, wiggling your fingers. “It’s mostly done, anyways. And better viewed at night. Now come on.”

-He takes your hand.

—

-An hour later, the two of you are carefully skulking through various alleyways, avoiding pipes and puddles and a multitude of leaks, glowing liquids of questionable origin and little heaps of junk. Even one or two people, most of whom pay you no mind.

-You practically vibrating with excitement, the closer you seem to get to…wherever it is you’re bringing him. Your fingers knit through his, carefully tugging him along in the dark, making sure neither of you trip and fall face first into the walkway.

-He’s just about to ask you if you’re nearing your destination, when suddenly, you stop. So abruptly that he nearly collides with your back, despite his casual pace. He frowns down at you for a second, before his eyes adjust a little more to the lack of light, and he’s able to follow your gaze.

-Able to see what you’re looking at.

-The walls, mostly, are what catches his attention first. Barely glowing where they start, almost seeming to appear out of thin air. They sweep and ooze forward on the flat surface, brightening as they grow thicker and thicker as they twist closer to their destination.

-He recognizes the painting style, of course - it’s yours. Your distinct line techniques, combined with the rough texture of your brush style. He’s able to pick out a couple of different mediums you’ve used, to bend and burst and haze the colours in such a way that makes it look like the tendrils you’ve created are alive.

-Curling around each other like wires, yet pulsing with light almost like they’re breathing.

-You tug on his hand again, pulling him further down the alleyway, moving slower than before as to allow him to watch your art twist and curve around the architecture it’s painted on.

-Until finally, you come to a clearing. Just as unkempt as the area you’d been, it’s an intersection of six different walkways, a jagged circle, about twenty feet in diameter. He glances around, his eyes following the tendrils down the walls and across the ground - all heading inwards from each different path.

-Until they convene in the center.

-Where stands a metal statue, abstract in nature yet welded and twisted so perfectly. Painted with love and attention, in much the same style as the glow that led you both here, only this time it’s so bright it’s nearly blinding.

-You’ve left out his features, leaving the shape up to interpretation and curiosity, but he knows. He can tell in the way you’ve shaped it, and in the way the metal man so carefully holds his creation.

-It’s him, and the hexcore.

-It’s vague, but he knows.

- “You…made this?” he asks, so softly that you can barely hear him. He takes a few steps closer, trailing his eyes over every curve and detail of the sculpture.

- “I did,” you say, quite pleased with yourself. “I thought the undercity would do well to remember someone who’s out there, working his ass off to make things better: searching for answers and looking for ways to find peace.”

-You move towards him, linking your arms together as you come to stand by his side.

- “I know it’s not much,” you sigh. “I know that…my art probably won’t change anything. I know that a lot of people won’t know the significance of the piece, and won’t see the detail and the love that’s gone into it. But…it can offer them a little slice of light in this dark place, if nothing else. It can be a place where they don’t have to worry about the shadows that follow them. I hope.”

-He carefully hooks his cane into the crook of his elbow, and reaches up to cup your jaw, his thumb slowly tracing over the curve of your cheek, regarding you with the utmost admiration and fondness.

- “Thank you,” he murmurs, quiet enough that only you can hear. “You say your art won’t change anything, but it has. You have. You’ve made the world a little bit brighter, because of this.”

-His lips meet yours in tender expression, warm and gentle and familiar.

-You’ve made his world brighter.

[phantomyre]

Where the Vermilion Lotus Grows

Tifa Lockhart + Vincent Valentine [AU Roleplay Starter]

RP partner: @badassbarmaid Three years had passed since that fateful day. The entire world had experienced what felt like the beginning of the end. Their dear friend had been brutally murdered, but her spirit felt ever present to comfort them. Meteor had threatened the planet's already diminishing life, yet the planet fought back with the aid of their protector, Aerith. Things were never going to be the same. Everyone knew this. But just like the planet, life went on. So long as the planet still lived, so did the people. A new era. A new beginning... Everyone had to learn to pull their own weight, and there was no shortage of work. Even the children toiled as hard as the adults. But none complained. There were worse things to dread than the filth of the slums or the lack of supplies that had to be scavenged. While the city began to mend itself, however, there was the issue of fresh-produce. The planet had already been nearing its wits end, and with the destruction caused by Meteor, the planet had expended much of its energy to survive. Even though the planet could now rejuvenate and heal, it would be a long while before one could find a blade of grass, much less fresh vegetables or a flower for that matter. Such things were becoming a commodity. Strife Delivery-- a name dubbed by the skilled bartender of Midgar. Ever resourceful and a businesswoman at heart, Tifa had opened a new bar along with a delivery business in the hopes of giving Cloud purpose. The business had started off slow, but it was expected for a town that was struggling to get back on its feet. Cloud began to become quite busy, rarely staying home for more than a few days. Denzel and Marlene were fantastic helpers, but there was only so much they could do. With the stress of the business, trying to care for the children, worrying over Cloud, and still recovering from all that had happened in the past few weeks, it had all begun to weigh the young bartender down. She was a strong woman in many ways. But she wasn't made of steel. Some days were harder than others. It was on such a day that an old friend walked into the bar. Perhaps he had sensed his friend's plight. Or he needed something. He wasn't the type to just come over to visit and make small talk. Vincent was a man of few words, though plentiful in action when there was a need. The soft clinking of metal buckles and armor could be heard, footsteps crossing the threshold of the humble Seventh Heaven bar.

"Heard you could use a hand or two," the stoic gunslinger explained himself as he stood in the center of the new bar. It was rather quaint, but it had the thoughtful touch, unique to Tifa. Vincent had never seen their first bar before the plate collapsed. This was his first time in Seventh Heaven. Vincent briefly took in the scenery. But it wasn't necessarily the aesthetics that he was looking at. "...Seems a bit empty," Vincent mused metaphorically. The room was a reflection of Tifa's heart; something Vincent could sense all too keenly.

[amidst-snow-and-ice-moved]

For: Open Verse: To Change the Course of Fate | au

losing one of the twins to the cruelties of the Orcs at the Redhorn Pass seemed inconceivable. the Lady Celebrian had never really recovered from seeing Elrohir sacrifice himself, so she could escape. although she had remained in Middle-Earth, neither Imladris or Lothlorien had been the same since.

rescue missions were sent to look for the younger twin but only blood and his blade had been discovered. the conclusion? Elrohir was dead.

Elladan thought otherwise.

no one could persuade him that his brother was permanently gone from Arda. not Elrond or Celebrian nor Arwen. it was just the grief and pain of losing the one closest to him, it was said. yet Elladan knew differently. the mental bond they shared as twins told him that the younger had survived.

there was one who agreed with him. his grandmother, the Lady Galadriel, believed his words. for she had seen glimpses of a injured elf hiding in the Misty Mountains. but with their face hidden by the shadows of the rocks, identification was impossible.

rumours of a lone elf like figure protecting travellers across the Redhorn Pass soon began to circulate. yet there was no evidence and rarely did anyone see their features.

it would be the Rangers of the North, who'd find the first signs of evidence that Elrohir wasn't dead. after a couple of arrows took out some of the Orcs they were fighting.

because of the quality and elvish make, one of the Rangers went to Imladris. to see if anyone could identify the owner of the silvery grey tipped arrow. unaware that only one elf ever used that particular colouring to mark his arrows. Elrohir.

[amid-ice-and-snow]

For: Open | within reason Muse: Elrohir Verse: Empath | AU / During the Hobbit

Dol Guldur.

formerly known as Amon Lanc; once the home and fortress of Oropher, late King of the Greenwood. now the current residence of the Necromancer, better known as Sauron. it wasn't a place where most would dare tread, even if they wanted to. not even the Elves of the Woodland Realm, who lived within the now aptly named Mirkwood, would go there.

it was common knowledge that Elves and Dwarves rarely got on well together, especially after the Fall off Erebor. both races tried to stay away from each other, only crossing paths if they had no other choice. in the few places they did live close to the other, Ered Luin for example; there were usually Rangers of the North nearby to keep the peace.

while folk almost never came to the old Elven fortress, it was far from being deserted. alongside the so called Necromancer and his minions, the dungeons held some long term guests of his. guests who had been missing for so long, many thought they were dead. and who, despite their races, had found a mutual companionship in each-other.

"…El..?"

'Just resting, Thrain…'

a lone blue eye peered at the, older than him but still young, elf. concern stirred at the faded mental response, a direct result of pulling him from the Dark Lord's grasp. he didn't know how long his companion had been in Dol Guldur but time had not been kind to either of them. "..Not alone… Above Tharkûn… Elves…"

the halting words, spoken in a mixture of Westron and Khuzdul, the secret language of Dwarves, finally caused silver eyes to open and focus on Thrain. only then, was it possible to fully recognise who the elf actually was: Elrohir, the younger twin son of Lord Elrond from Imladris.

'Elves… Few would attempt.. to come here.. unless…'

although still weakened from earlier, Elrohir used his empathy to scan the fortress for whom Thrain had spoken. it wasn't difficult- his grandmother and father were easy to identify. his time spent as Sauron's prisoner had strengthened his power yet at the same time, weakened his control.

so his scan was more powerful than the silent elf intended, unintentionally helping the White Council in their fight. there was also another unintended side effect: it alerted them to prisoners below.

'Gandalf, Thrain is.. alive and safe…'

although the message was intended for the Grey Wizard, it was broadcasted to both Istari and elves. his mental words soon wavered and faded. but there was no doubting who had spoken- or that the missing young elf was still alive. if only just.

[pestozsauce]

Malevmay prompt 1 - leviathan

“His Leviathan”

As much as Geno liked to deny it, he truly did love Reaper. When Reaper had first begun to court Geno it had been surprising, and terrifying. For starters, when Geno was younger and his mother was alive, all the way back before he had his own coat and there was no evidence of his true species except for his webbed fingers hidden by gloves, he was told the story of the harbinger of death. Well, he was told the story of the seven leviathans, but the tale of the harbinger of death always stuck out to him.

The harbinger of death, otherwise known as Reaper, is the fourth oldest leviathan according to the legends. In his leviathan he’s described as a huge terrifying being, appearing ghostly to some, and maddening to others, though in his mer form he was a skeleton with the tail of an orca mer cloaked in a black cloak. Geno was told that if he had ever encountered him, especially while in the form of a seal, he would be dead as fast as he could blink. He supposes that was one of the things to keep him out of the sea for so long.

Though years later, when any family or friends Geno would’ve cared about were gone, he turned to the sea, and that’s when he first met Reaper. The Antarctic, the place his mother was from, had been a cold and harsh place to adjust to, but he was getting on well enough, he had even found himself a nice cave that was halfway in the water he could stay. So over all, things were going fine, and this was coming from someone who tended to be pessimistic.

He had met Reaper while he was out hunting, it wasn’t a very good hunting session, he hadn’t managed to catch a single thing, most likely having something to do with the herd of seals that had recently traveled and settled nearby. Anyway, he had just chased some type of fish into a small cave, but the slippery little bastard had escaped right as they both reached the end of the cave, there wasn’t enough room for geno to turn around swiftly and chase after it, so he had paused and groaned for a moment before deciding he would just go back home for the night and try again with hunting tomorrow.

He hadn’t expected much else out of the night, in fact he hoped that no other events would occur through the rest night, but no, when he had shimmied around in the crevice, he saw no one other than the harbinger of death peering at him with a hungry look in his eyes. At first glance he didn’t recognize him, he looked like a regular orca mer at first. The first warning sign had been the fact that the other had been a skeleton, skeletons were rare, very rare, he still remembers how shocked his mother had been that both himself and his brother had been born as healthy skeletons.

The next warning sign had been the mer’s empty sockets, and then his black cloak that stuck close to his body. The harbinger slowly turned his head to the side, peering at geno as if he was planning out his death, and perhaps he was. That thought caused Geno to press himself close to the back of the crevice, getting as far away from the harbinger as he could, even if he knew it was useless. The harbinger opened his mouth, presumably to speak, but Geno cut him off with a deep, guttural growl. The harbinger froze, and then he began to laugh as what appeared to be a blue blush spread across his face.

“Wh-what the fuck are you laughing for?” Geno had hissed out, trying not to sound scared in the face of what's rumored to be death.

The harbinger did not answer, continuing to laugh at his scared form. Geno could feel the anger begin to well, after his mom died he had been told he had begun to gain a short temper.

“Stop laughing or- or I’ll bite you,” Geno had stumbled over his words in an attempt at figuring out what to say.

His threat had the opposite effect as the harbinger had begun to laugh harder, and when he finally did stop laughing, he winked at him slyly and said, “well I wouldn't mind that,”

Geno huffed, and decided that if he was going to die here, he might as well go down fighting. While the harbinger was busy drooling over his body, Geno shot forward, wincing as his bones scraped against the sides of the crevice walls and drawing red bone marrow. He opened his extendible jaw wide and went in for his target, he would’ve reached the harbingers neck had he not had his hand up. But Geno had at least managed to clamp his jaw around the harbingers wrist, he bit down as hard as he could, not stopping even as the others marrow filled his mouth and he felt bone crunch beneath his teeth.

“Woah,” The harbinger spoke, oddly enough, there wasn’t much surprise in his voice, more so amusement, “Didn’t think you’d take me seriously there,”

Geno growled at him once more, mind racing at what to do next, of course he had soon decided on booking it out of there since the harbinger seemed more content to awkwardly stare at him then actually fight back. After he had let go of the harbinger he had pushed him back the turned around and swam for dear life in a random direction. It had taken hours to get home after, fear of encountering the harbinger and the fact that he had gotten lost both coming into play.

But, when he had gotten home, there was a carcass in the middle of his home, an Antarctic fur seal which stunk of the harbinger. That wasn’t the last of the harbingers' gifts either, no matter how many times Geno tried finding new places to move, he always came home to a gift from the harbinger. It took him awhile to figure out he was being courted, and even longer to begin accepting the gifts and start talking to the harbinger. Reaper was much different from what Geno though he would be like, he was flirty and mischievous and liked to sneak touches or small kisses at Geno, but all it took was one flirty remark or heartfelt gift from Geno and Reaper was like putty in the selkies arms.

Though Geno had been getting used to ignoring his instincts telling him that Reaper would kill him, he almost ran and hid when he first saw Reaper's leviathan form. He had grown 10 times his size, making Geno barely the size of his hand. The white’s of his tail had turned a see-through teal, allowing him to see the skeleton inside, and his cloak hood seemed to completely hide his head from view, making his eyes glow white. But even as Geno shook as he stared up at his lover, the other simply scooped him up and laughed in that fond way that made Geno’s face red. And though Geno hadn’t, and would never, admit it to Reaper, it felt nice being cradled in his large hands, even if the other could crush him at any moment.

And that’s where he was now, cradled in his lover's hands. Reaper's body was halfway above the water so he could hold Geno up as they both gazed at the stars. He turned around and gazed behind him to where Reaper's head was resting on the ice below. He never could’ve expected to fall in love with a leviathan, and he never expected that same leviathan to fall in love back. In all honesty he had expected to be forcefully married by some sailor after getting his coat stolen, like his mother and most other selkies in tales he’s heard.

“You ok Gen?” Reapers asked in a whisper as his natural tone of voice was louder in his current form.

“Yeah Reaps, I’m just fine,” A soft smile came to his face, he truly did love the leviathan, his leviathan.

Credits:

Undertale - Toby fox

Leviathantale - Skumhu

Genos sans - LoverofPiggies (aka CrayonQueen)

Reaper sans - I couldn't find his creator :(

[deathfavor]

starter call for @furiaei

If I could bring you to a beautiful dream just once...you would definitely choose me... When will she ever learn her lesson? No one chooses her other than for gain. Serpent's head falls back against the acrobatic hoop hanging from the ceiling, her gaze staring at the blank, grey walls. There's always new sinners showing up these days, rarely a moment she even gets to see much less speak with the chief. Chief promised...but in the end, it was just another empty promise like others who had sold her lies of happiness. Marv wasn't destroying her anymore, but sometimes she almost wished....

Her head turns towards the door as it slides open to grant someone permission. Her eyes widen for a moment, recognition immediate as she spots the other sinner. She's supposed to always be smiling as a performer, but the idea of performing seems exhausting at the moment. But Mya's eyes notice her and Serpent musters up a thin smile in greeting. Mya is one of the few who aren't afraid of her and she understands.

" The Chief didn't catch me. " She speaks up quietly, her head falling backwards again and her eyes lifting to the ceiling. The voice that she uses isn't her entertainer voice, but her real voice. " Before, you mentioned about Chief arresting me. They didn't succeed. I gave myself up. It was tedious hiding. But more importantly I thought..." Her voice falters, wavering.as she reflects on it. " I thought they would help. Finding my happiness...They were so convincing. " Her hands squeeze together, hard enough her knuckles turn white. It feels stupid looking back on it now. How desperately she now claws to do a simple magic show or go out like the other sinners get to. ( She's too dangerous , she's heard the guards talk. ). The real world has always been misery, but this is a cage more akin to the family at the beginning of her life.

The performer intentionally falls with grace like an eagle's death dive before she flips and lands gracefully on her toes. Years of experience make the act seem as effortless as breathing. But her attention is on Mya. " Is it so wrong that I want others to be happy? That I want to be happy? " There's a desperate edge, tucked into her words, a hand trying to grasp for proof she's not so wrong to want to be happy. " All I'm fed are lies. I never learn. " Serpent laughs, the noise a rattle in her throat as she looks to the side. " I'm a monster even here. I guess it wouldn't be a very good story if the monster won, huh? " She turns back with a smile, her voice raising in pitch to an eerily accurate cheerful tone despite the obvious pain in the words.

[timelessxmemories]

OPEN STARTER ;; Professor Hojo.

TIMELINE ;; Final Fantasy 7 – Before the Plate is dropped.

PLACE & TIME ;; Shinra HQ, Lab 09, 8:10 Pm.

SHIPPING PREFERENCE [PLATONIC / ROMANTIC] ;; Multi-Ship, Open to any, romantic relationships must be of age, and preferably female due to Hojo being straight canonically and as a muse itself, platonic relationships may be any.

TAGS ;; @cupid-beatricereden , @ghostlyeye , @ask-liam-and-co + anyone else who would like to join.

A man in a lab coat stands at a machine, seeming to be fumbling around with a control panel of sorts, a michevious and unknowing grin plastered on his face as he hums in delight, seemingly proud of himself as he steps away from the machine, grabbing his clipboard and a pen, writing on a piece of paper attached to the clip-board. He mumbled to himself as he wrote, shaking his head and seemingly crossing something out, a scowl appearing on his face as he sighs in frustration, placing the clipboard down on the desk with a frustrated look on his face as he stares up at the machine, the machine which held Jenova inside of it. The 'mother of all living things' or so they say.

He steps away from the machine, closing the door to it as he steps into the main room and heads towards his desk, sitting down and writing a few notes down on sticky papers. It was fairly quiet this evening, just him and his thoughts. But still, it was too quiet. Too quiet for his liking. So he stands up and adjusts his lab coat, beginning to wander the Lab, the heels on his shoes clicking with each step he took, and with each step he took, he heard nothing. Not a single thing. He sighs, walking back to his desk and picking up a photo. It was a photo of him, his previous wife, Starlight, and their daughter, Lock. He smiles sadly at the photo, it wasn't a sinister grin he usually gave, but rather, a genuine smile. One that's rare to see on this man's face.

But his brows quickly furrow at the painful memory of having to put an end to his wife's life involuntarily. The way she begged and pleaded to Hojo to let her live. The way her cries and sobs rang out, causing his head to fog and everything to become suddenly much louder. The memory of having to keep this hidden from his daughter for so very long. The photo in his hand crinkled a little with the way his grip tightened, tears threatened to fall from the man's eyes but he quickly shook it off and put the photo back in its place, shaking his head firmly.