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darker-soft-starker · 4 years ago

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Starker High School AU, Pt 3 (Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 4, Pt 5)

-----

There were two things in life that Peter was unequivocally certain were true.

Number one was that Monday mornings were a universally despised, unpleasant experience that no weekend could ever ease the pain of having to endure.

And number two: Sit-ups were a specific and profound mechanism of torture that no person should ever be required to engage in, recreationally or mandated.

Of course, it would be just his luck that the two were combined on this very Monday morning.

It was cruel and unusual is what it was, Peter thought, hands curled at his temples as he pushes himself into a sitting position, falling back onto the dewy grass with a thud that steals the breath from his chest.

Bucky, holding his ankles, encourages him to complete his set.

“I can’t,” Peter gasps, his stomach trembling as he pulls himself up again. “I - oh fuck - I hate this. I hate exercise.”

Bucky squeezes his ankles tighter. “C’mon, Parker, only three more. You can do it.”

Peter shakes his head, even as he pulls himself up again with a pained groan.

“No, I can’t. Make it stop.”

“Two more. You got it. Sit-ups are not the boss of you.”

“Yes - ahh - they are!”

“One more!”

Sweat pours down his neck and his muscles protest as he pulls himself up for the last time. He gets probably only most of the way up before his gravity slams to the ground.

Bucky slaps his bare calf encouragingly as Peter stares up into the glaring morning sun, arms splayed out, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. Oh, god. Never again. That was the worst.

Covering his eyes with his quivering arms he wonders if maybe coach will indulge him just this once. Maybe he can stay here until training is over, perhaps curl up into a ball and try to blend in with the grass so that no one sees him or subjects him to any more exercise.

Except Coach Danvers is already yelling at him to get off the ground and get moving.

He smacks his hands over his ears but it’s no use.

“Get up Parker, last warning!”

“Respite!” He yells back pleadingly, curling in tighter upon himself. “Please!”

Her whistle pierces the air.

“Now!”

Coach has been on edge all morning. Her harsh has turned razor edged in the face of their upcoming match against Kingston this Thursday, reminding the team of her expectations, tolerating nothing other than complete dedication.

Which, whatever.

Peter’s dedicated, okay? It’s Monday. He dragged his ass out of bed to be here at an unholy hour, exhausted and bloated from his indulgent weekend, didn’t he?

Erring on the margin of spite towards Danvers and self motivation, which he suspects is her aim, he pushes himself back up. Taking each of Bucky’s ankles in his grip, he starts counting as Bucky begins his set.

Not that he needs the assistance, Bucky proves his strength by ripping through the set like a bull stampeding through a brick wall. He doesn’t even break a sweat. Dude’s crazy athletic.

It’s really not fair.

As he mentally counts the reps, Peter thinks Bucky’s the kind of fit that Peter both hoped and never hoped to be. He’s effortlessly capable at any physical task, but he works hard for it, harder than Peter would ever dream of working, dedicating hours to gym time and conditioning. Bucky’s not even out of breath when he strikes up conversation.

“How was your weekend, PP?”

“S’okay. Played Mario Kart with my Aunt all weekend.”

Bucky grins as his upper half rises to meet his knees. “Oh, party animal. She doing okay?”

“Yeah, she’s good,” Peter grins wryly, taking one of his hands from the other’s ankle to push the sweat-damp hair from his eyes. “Kicked my ass though. She always takes Toad.”

“Switch?”

“Nah, GameCube. How was your weekend?”

“Boring. Parents were home all weekend and wanted some ‘family time’.”

“So, you just watched The Voice all weekend?”

“Yup.”

“Nat sneak in after?”

“Yup. How’d it go with Stark on Friday?” Bucky accepts Peter’s hand as he finishes his set. Peter pulls him up and pats him on the back.

The set off in a jog to complete a lap of the field, Coach yells that only five minutes are left, urging them to pick up speed. Peter’s lungs burn when he speaks.

“It was fine.”

Bucky looks at him dubiously, flyaways whipping at his face.

“Well not like, fine-fine, but no bloodshed. See? All limbs intact.” He holds his arms out mid-sprint.

“Wow, so you’re basically best friends now.”

“No.”

“Did you hold hands and braid each other’s hair?”

Incensed, Peter shoves at Bucky to the sound of his snickering,

“Ew, stop, I just had breakfast. Look, the first experience was painful enough. Can we move on? I really don’t want to talk about it.”

---

“And then he hit on my Aunt,” Peter complains in the showers, soaping up his chest. “Literally right in front of me. Who does that?”

“Did she flirt back?” Bucky asks, dipping his head into the spray.

“What? No. He said he was just trying to get under my skin,” he puts his head beneath his own shower head, the water pleasantly lukewarm against his heated skin. “I mean, what kind of psychopath does that?”

“Yeah, but your aunt is super hot though,” Wilson says to his right. “Stark’s an asshole, but he’s not crazy.”

There is a general murmur of agreement around the showers.

“I’m going to need you all to shut up right now,” Peter warns, turning to point at them all. “Keep my aunts name out of your mouth while you’re washing your balls, alright?”

“You heard him, move on,” Rogers cuts in, offering Peter a sympathetic smile.

He nods gratefully as conversation quickly turns to girls, grades and the upcoming Thanksgiving holidays. There was a reason why Peter was on Roger’s side all these weeks ago, he thinks, observing how the entire team respects his command without query. The guy was just interested in doing the right thing, and that’s pretty cool.

By the time they’re all dried and dressed, the topic is forgotten, much to Peter’s relief. He’s nearly late to first period though, too busy watching Wilson and Barnes smack each other with wet towels and attempting to tame his unruly curls into something resembling neatness. He’s not proud of the amount of gel it takes, but it’s what he’s got to work with.

It’s not that he’s obsessed with his appearance or anything, but he has a routine that he sticks to. Gel and lots of it.

Once, in third grade, Flash pulled one of Peter’s tightly coiled ringlet between his fingers, pulled on it and said oink. Peter still had some lingering baby fat at the time and so, as cruel as children can be, Peter was donned Piggy Parker for a time afterwards. Sometimes Porky Parker. They’re friends now, but the oinking and snuffling that followed him around the playground still haunts him.

Anyway.

On the way to first period Rogers walks alongside him down the hall. They have English together, but usually make their way separately. It kind of weirded Peter out for a moment because while they’re team-mates, they’re not really friends.

“Heard you got paired with Stark for an assignment,” the other boy says, his wry smile caught between amused and sympathetic. “That’s shit luck, Parker.”

“You’re telling me,” Peter agrees, waving to Ned and Betty as they pass. “Dude’s a freakin’ prick.”

Rogers bumps their shoulders together.

“You said it. Want me to have a word with him, get him to back off?”

“Nah,” Peter shakes his head. “I can handle Stark, he’s just some bored rich kid looking for a fight. Besides,” he gives Rogers a once-over, “pretty sure you’re supposed to keep your distance after your last brawl with him.”

“True,” he concedes, clamping Peter’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze as they stop before their room. “But we’re a team, alright? Just say the word and I’ll encourage some sense into him. Promise to be gentle.”

Peter clamps his hands over his heart with a flair of drama, despite being truly touched. “You’re my hero, Captain Rogers.”

Rogers rolls his eyes and shoves him into the classroom.

“Alright, smartass. Let’s go.”

Inside, he smiles sheepishly at Mrs Perez who glowers at them for their lateness and takes his usual seat between Clint and Shuri. He signs a good morning to the former and smiles at the latter, who is staring down at her desk with disdain.

“What’s wrong?” He nudges her chair with his foot to grab her attention.

“The curriculum.” She raises her head and points to the board miserably. It reads Lord of the Flies.

Oh, great. He could use the nap.

Peter smiles sympathetically, opening his nearly full notebook up to a blank page. “How was your weekend?”

“Meh.”

“Meh?”

“Mmm,” She nods, gesturing airily. “You know, eh. Oh, oh! I heard you spent the weekend getting cosy with Stark,” Shuri follows, pretending to search through their textbook. “Wow, that’s a three-sixty, PP. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“What?” Peter hisses, voice lowering when their teacher looks around as roll-call commences. “That’s not -- ”

“Parker!” Perez yells for roll call.

“Present!”

Shuri snickers as Peter’s hand shoots up.

Lucky for him it’s the last he hears of it.

Kinda.

---

His next class is Bio with MJ who, thankfully, says very little through class. She inspects him with bleary eyes when he enters, nursing a coffee in her hands, always earlier than Peter who has to come from the other side of the school.

Peter’s grateful for the reprieve. When she does speak to him, it’s to borrow a pen or to offer him a sip of her coffee. It’s not a lab class today, only note-taking and listening to their teacher drone on about plant anatomy in the same monotone, so he accepts the bitter black coffee without hesitation.

It’s only then that he ventures to initiate conversation.

“So,” he begins precariously, doodling in his notebook, “how was your weekend?”

She shrugs, appearing more awake than earlier. “It was okay. You?”

“It was okay.”

And that was that, he’s relieved to note, companionable silence falling between again as they turn their attention to their teacher again. It’s not until they’re packing up their books at the end of class that MJ speaks to him again.

“See you at lunch?”

“Yeah, dude. Save us a table?”

“You bet. Oh, and by the way, I heard Stark is gonna be your new step-daddy. Congrats.”

Peter groans.

“How do you -- you know what, no,” he says, pulling his backpack over his shoulders and making a x with his arms. “Nope. No more talking about Stark, he is persona non grata. I’m traumatised enough.”

MJ pushes his glasses up after they slipped precariously down his nose during his declaration. “You’re so dramatic, dude.”

He bumps their shoulders together on the way out of the room and shakes his head.

“Why do people keep saying that?”

---

Ned texts him during recess; Peter is taking an extended break in the bathroom despite not needing to be there, but he’s definitely not hiding, nope. He’s just chilling in the cubicle.

< heard stark spent the weekend < lol wtf < plz verify < actually i don’t want to know < no wait i do tell me < dude

< hello?

----

Traitors, all of them.

He wonders if he should leave this school and start anew elsewhere.

---

Here’s the thing.

As much as Peter loves his friends, he has limits to how long he can spend with them before needing a time out.

They’re his motley crew of village idiots. Some he’s known since first grade, like Ned and Flash, others only since he came to the school and subsequently, the football team.

This school headhunted him because of his academic merit. With his pursuit of scholastic excellence - and the fact that some of his best friends would be attending the school, he applied for and was awarded a scholarship. It was a no-brainer - he had big dreams and even bigger expectations of himself to achieve them and he wanted May to be proud of him.

Which was why when it was suggested that he try out for JV, having exhibited some physicality during gym class, he decided to give it a try. It would look great to have on his applications, he was assured.

So he did. Somehow his wiry frame and years of gymnastics was considered an asset and he was promptly recruited by Coach Danvers. At first he deeply regretted the additional commitment -- the early hours, the soreness, adapting to the internal culture within the team. But he’s persevered and he’s glad that he did.

And for the most part, he copes okay. He can juggle football obligations and after-school activities and the odd tutoring jobs here and there and stay sane, right?

Sort of.

Because as grateful as he was for his broad circle of friends, Peter was still, at heart, an introvert. And right now, his social energy is running on fumes.

It’s because of this - and nothing to do with the relentless questions about Stark - that Peter retreats to the library at lunch that day.

Nestled away in the dusty, back corner, near the collection of old encyclopaedias that nobody reads, are an assortment of bean bags. It’s away from the main area, quiet and disregarded by most. It used to be a thriving recreational area way before Peter’s time, but there wasn’t any maintenance to it over the years. Now the bags are old, terribly lumpy and are speckled with suspicious stains, the fabric is thinning and aged. Most people purposefully avoid the old rec area, which is why Peter likes this spot best. It’s his secret hiding space.

He prepares to disassociate for the next forty minutes by getting comfortable on his favorite bean bag and popping his earphones in.

Next, he retrieves his slightly soggy ham-tomato sandwich from his bag and takes a large bite after unwrapping it. The first burst of tomato hits his tongue at the same time as the music begins.

Ah, to be alone.

Closing his eyes, he allows his body to sink into the bag and for his thoughts to wander freely.

Of course, because his luck is as poor as he is, his seclusion lasts all of three songs before someone else enters into his space. Well it’s not his space, technically, but it should be.

When Peter creaks an eye open to see who is intruding he’s surprised to see Thor perched on the bean-chair opposite him. They catch each others stare and smile.

Well, alone time is overrated.

Maybe his luck isn’t down the drain after all - because this is his opportunity to prove he isn’t a total fumbling loser. He doesn’t know which deity he pleased to be alone in a quiet corner of the library with Thor, but someone up there is clearly looking out for him.

He wants to say something, to strike up a conversation that might make Peter seem cool and only casually interested - something that would make him sound both smart and like, available.

But not too available.

With little success, Peter wracks his brain for the best opening line but frets because he’s ever been cool or collected a day in his life. And great, now he’s just been sitting there smiling for like two whole minutes like an absolute weirdo. Come on, Parker, say something!

Thor acts well before Peter has the chance to say anything, pointing at him, his mouth moving with words Peter can’t hear.

Realising a moment too late that his earphones are still playing music from his phone, Peter hurries to tug them out if his ears, smacking himself in the face in the .

“Sorry, I was --” Peter gestures to his ears, hands shaking, cheeks going hot. God, Thor is talking to him. Him! Peter Parker! “Sorry. What did you say?”

“I said I like your shirt!” Thor replies, way more loudly than what would normally be socially acceptable for a library, but Peter does not care. Thor likes his shirt.

“This?” He asks, gesturing downwards to his shirt where crumbs are dusted at the collar. “You like Nirvana?”

“I do not know Nirvana,” Thor smiles, “but it looks very cool. Peter, right?”

“Uh yeah,” he nods, face positively flaming because again, he knows Peter’s name. Quickly sweeping the crumbs from his shirt, he extends his hand out to the older boy who shakes his hand. Holy shit. Be cool. “I’m Parker -- I mean, Peter. Yes. Nice to be here. I mean, nice to be speaking. To you.”

Even as Peter’s arm is roughly jostled with Thor’s exuberant hand-shaking embarrassment crawls up his neck, and he wants to disintegrate into the bean bag where no one has to witness his persistent, glaring awkwardness. Palms sweating, Peter has to bite his lip to stop himself from commenting on how big Thor’s hands are.

Stop it, he scolds himself, be normal, play it cool.

“Thor, right?” Peter asks, as if he didn’t doodle their initials together in his notebooks. “You were at training last week.”

“Yes, you fell on your face,” Thor nods, gesturing to the yellowed bruising on his jaw, “I saw.”

“Oh, okay, so you saw that! Uhh -- ” Peter waves a hand at his face, laughing nervously. “This? It’s nothing. I’m totally fine.”

“You are clumsy,” Thor states, not unkindly.

“Well, no -- I mean, yes --” Peter tries to come up with an explanation, but falls short. “I’m not always a klutz, promise. Just sometimes.”

“Happens to the best of us. Well, not myself, but you know, generally speaking. In any case, I’m happy to see you’re okay.”

Thor unzips his backpack then and from within it retrieves a truly gargantuan protein shake, followed by a sub wrapped in foil so large it could be the same size as Peter’s forearm. Sneaking a look down at the remainder of his own lunch, his pickings look pretty slim in comparison.

“Sorry,” Thor says. “Just peckish for a snack.”

Peter watches, dazed, as the older boy consumes half his sub in a single bite, washing it down with several mouthfuls of his shake.

A snack.

“You’re fine. Anyway, football isn’t really my forte,” he admits after a moment, drawing his knees up. “I mean, I’m okay at it and I like it, but it’s not really what I’m best at, y’know?”

The blond boy nods, “I’m on the varsity team,” he proclaims, wiping his mouth. “Whatever that means.”

His accent is so thick it takes Peter half a moment to figure out what it was that he said.

He’s not sure if Thor is being serious or not but the one question Peter has is why is he so fucking cute?

A silence follows, albeit not an awkward one. It gives Peter the opportunity to inspect the older boy, nearly a man at his height and stature, of course helped along by the generous distribution of facial hair across his lower face.

“Uh, did you play football back at home?” Peter asks, keen to keep conversation going. “Soccer?”

“Oh yes,” the boy nods. “Soccer, tennis, volleyball. Water polo. Badminton.”

“Wow,” Peter blinks, “that’s a lot of sport. You’re like the whole Olympics here.”

He’s awarded with a lazy grin for that comment. Thor, to his credit, doesn’t appear to be boastful about his physicality, seemingly a result of his passions instead of a product of vanity.

“Close enough, I suppose. What else do you play, besides football?”

“Uhh --”

Oh god. How is he supposed to respond to that when the idea of doing additional sports outside of football is abhorrent? He can’t tell Thor that. Surely he can fake a common interest. Think of something, Parker, think, think.

The first bell rings, saving him from having to provide a potentially humiliating answer, seeing as all how all that could think of was chess, or PC. Both of which are true and accurate, but not exactly something he thinks that would make him appear more attractive or endearing.

Thank god for fifth period.

“To be continued?” Peter asks as he picks up his backpack, just a little hopeful.

There’s an awkward bit of shuffling as they rush to get off the sagging bean chairs, moment filled with odd squeaks of polystyrene as they attempt to stand.

Thor nods and to Peter’s surprise, doesn’t immediately rush to get away from him. There’s an awkward bit of shuffling as they rush to get off the sagging bean chairs with, odd squeaks of polystyrene as they stand. Instead, he accompanies Peter all the way out of the library, walking alongside him into the main hallway where a flurry of students are intersecting to get to their next class, walking alongside him.

Heads turn to watch them as they depart the library and enter the halls. For a moment, as kids part like the red sea to make way for them - for Thor - Peter wonders if this is what it’s like to be famous. Or to be on the arm of someone famous. It certainly feels like it, because even though the revere isn’t for Peter specifically, it seems like the weight of everyone’s awe is on them.

He doesn’t like the attention. But he likes Thor.

To his delight, the older boy follows him to his locker. Embarrassingly, it sticks when Peter tries to open it, as it usually does. He struggles with it for long, humiliating moments before Thor opens it with one hand.

“Thanks,” he says, blush creeping back up his neck. “You’re like, crazy strong, dude.”

Thor flexes and inspects his own bicep, as if seeing it for the first time.

“Perhaps,” he concedes, smiling roguishly. “Back at home I used to lift my brother for weight training.”

“You what?”

“A story for another time,” Thor shakes his head, shuffling closer to be heard over the traffic of students. “Anyway, I should be going. But there was something I have been meaning to ask you, if I may take a moment --”

Peter freezes. Oh my god, this is it, he thinks.

It’s happening.

“-- seeing as you and I have similar interests and we seem compatible, it would please me greatly if you would agree to --”

Heart racing, Peter turns, a fervent yes already on his lips.

It dies when there is a loud call of his name in the hall.

“-- Hey, Parker!”

Whatever Thor was going to say wilts at the interruption, seemingly forgotten as he waves at the intruder. Peter turns to see who called out for him and instantly wishes he didn’t.

Heart dropping to his stomach, he squeezes his eyes shut and sighs.

This is his luck.

Never has he wanted to melt into the floor and die like he does right now as Stark approaches the pair in quick strides.

Hands shoved into his jean pockets, Stark’s wide eyes dart between them inquisitively, a shadow of a smirk crossing his face, disappearing just as quick.

“Well, pardon me. I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Tony places a hand on his heart and leans on the locker next to Peters. “Thor, barely a pleasure as always.”

“Stark,” Thor nods.

Tony simpers, smile saccharine sweet and gestures to an uneasy Peter.

“I am just so sorry to intrude, but would you mind if I spoke to my husband here? He’s such a slippery one, aren’t you, sweetums?”

Thor looks between them, head going to and fro like a pendulum.

“He’s not my husband,” Peter rushes to assure, acutely pincered between Thor’s confusion and Tony’s mischief. “I mean he is, but it’s for an assignment. We’re not really -- it’s not real. I don’t like him.”

Tony exhales heavily, looking at Thor with dismay. “That’s not what he said in our wedding vows.”

Peter wants to punch him in the throat.

“I understand,” Thor smiles, patting each of them on the shoulder. He dips his chin and catches Peter’s eye. “To be continued?”

“Y-Yeah,” Peter nods enthusiastically, probably too enthusiastically, he thinks, as his aim is to pretend to be cool and disinterested, but he doesn’t even care because maybe not all is lost after all. “To be continued. See you.”

All of the pomp bleeds away from Tony as Thor walks away, his posture turning into a slump against the locker.

The smile drops from Peter’s face. He sends Tony a heated glare as he retrieves from his books, shoving them into his bag.

“What do you want?” he grumbles, slamming his locker shut. “You have the worst timing, you know that?”

“It’s part of my charm,” the other boy shrugs. “What can I say, I’m delightful.”

“You’re deplorable.”

Tony gasps in mock offence. “Deplorable? Good lord, Parker, is that any way to speak to your husband?”

“If the shoe fits,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Look, I have to go to class. Say what you want or move out of the way.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Oh, don’t be like that. C’mon, what were you and He-Man grunting about, hmm? Grr, me big, you tiny?”

“Unless you have a point,” Peter asks, pointing to the main hall, “I’m leaving.”

Tony puts his hands up in surrender, however the glib expression doesn’t quite leave his face. But at that moment Peter doesn’t have it within him to care, he’s not here to entertain him and sooner they get this over with, the better.

“Alright, alright, buzzkill. Come outside, I have to talk to you about the assignment.”

Peter looks at him, perturbed.

“I need a smoke,” he explains, tutting at Peter dispiritedly. “Also, don’t lie, I know it’s your free period.”

He doesn’t wait for Peter to respond, heading straight for the double doors that lead to the courtyard at a sedate enough pace for Peter to follow. Nonetheless he jogs a few paces to catch up after debating whether or not it was a good idea to follow or if he should hide in the boys bathroom.

Again.

It’s fairly chilly out, the wind whipping through his clothes. He wishes he had a scarf or gloves or something, opting to shove his hands into the pocket of his hoodie and hooking the hood over his head.

“How do you know it’s my free period?” he queries loud enough to be heard over the wind.

“Because,” Tony turns to walk backwards, the breeze whistling around them, “it’s also my free period and you always stink up the library so I can’t go there,” he rounds the corner to lead Peter to the shaded area behind the auditorium where a few students are lingering, most of them smoking.

“And you take the best seat. Personally, I think it’s selfish. I can’t possibly sit there after your ass has warmed it.”

Willing himself to not rise to Tony’s level of pettiness, he crosses his arms over his chest as they come to a stop. The wind is at full force now that the surrounding buildings aren’t taking the brunt of it and it is cold as all hell, although Tony’s in a black t-shirt and doesn’t look affected at all, probably because he’s cold-blooded or warmed by hellfire.

Tony cups his hands over his lighter to protect the flame from the breeze, struggling briefly to light his cigarette. Once the end is properly alight, Tony takes a drag while staring at him.

His hand comes to rest at his thigh, smoke rising idly from the cigarette. After a moment, he exhales the smoke in Peters direction.

“Wow. You’re disgusting,” he waves his hand in front of his face to dispel the smell. “Don’t you know second-hand smoke can kill?”

"Yes. Do you want a drag to speed up the process?”

“Don’t be a dick,” he says as Tony seems to find himself funny, offering up the cigarette in jest. Peter has half a mind to snatch it out of his hands and stomp on it. “I know that’s hard for you.”

“I’m joking, okay. I thought the wind would redirect the smoke. My bad.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure. Anyway, the assignment? Still waiting for whatever was so urgent."

Tony takes another drag, flicking ash to the ground before answering.

“I booked an appointment with a realtor for tomorrow after school.”

That has Peter’s curiosity piqued. “Really? Where?”

“LIC. One of the agents has agreed to be a reference so our domestic nightmare can be officially documented. Yay, go team.”

“Yay,” Peter deadpans. “What time?”

“Appointment’s at four-thirty,” Tony retrieves his phone from his pocket and hands it to Peter. “Give me your number and I’ll send you the details.”

Peter accepts it with a grimace. It’s warm from Tony’s body heat. Ugh.

“And now you can say: ‘thank you for being proactive, Tony, you’re so much better than me, Tony’.”

“Thank you for being proactive, Anthony, even if you’re a self-aggrandizing jerk,” Peter mutters, voice getting progressively more sarcastic.

A wide smile blooms on Tony’s face, clearly pleased with himself.

“You’re welcome, Parker.”

He is going to let that one go, Peter decides, feeling magnanimous on spite of the circumstances. He’d never admit it, but he’s kinda surprised by Tony’s apparent initiative, and even genuinely a little grateful that the other boy has arranged this so quickly. Or even that he thought to arrange it at all - field research was one of the highest scoring components on the rubric for this assignment.

Eyes flicking up for a moment, he assesses the other boy. Maybe he’s not as much of a slacker as Peter thought he was.

Tony, slumped against the brick wall, rubs his stomach and burps quietly.

Or maybe he is.

Nevertheless, Peter types in his details and saves his contact in Tony’s phone as Your Better Half.

Peter isn’t too much to look at, he knows, but he’s not the weak link here.

Tony accepts the phone back and wipes the touch screen on his shirt before pocketing it.

“Alright then, meet me after school tomorrow in the parking lot. Don’t be late,” he flicks his cigarette to the ground and steps on it to put it out. Tony bends at the waist then to pick up the stub, clutching it in his fist for later disposal instead of leaving it as litter.

That surprises Peter a little, it’s more thoughtful, conscious a gesture than he would have expected to come from Stark. Not that he’s ever personally seen such behaviour from him, but it wouldn’t be a stretch with his devil-may-care attitude. Would it?

He’s about to make mention of heading back inside when Stark takes two purposeful steps towards Peter, bridging the gap between them.

Peter freezes on the spot, breath caught in his chest as Tony brings them nose-to-nose.

He flicks his eyes down at Tony’s lips when his solemn expression morphs into an impish smile.

“Dude, what -- ?”

While Peter is distracted, Tony’s hands dart out to grip the strings of Peter’s hoodie, tugging them until the hood shrinks around his face.

“Do me a solid and try to wear something that doesn’t make you look like you’re a step away from lining up at a soup kitchen, okay? Y’know, something nice.”

Peter smacks his hands away furiously, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as Tony backs away, snickering.

“You really get off on being a prized piece of shit, don’t you?” he mutters, somewhat self conscious as he tries to correct the hood. “Poor jokes, that’s real nice. Sorry not all of us were born wearing Balenciaga.”

He continues to struggle with it as they move away and head back towards the main building, pushing it off his head altogether.

“Calm down, Charlie Brown, it’s not that deep,” Tony says drily, although his flippant demeanour softens significantly. “I have no doubt that you’d still manage to look like a hobo even if you were loaded, okay. You just have that grubby vibe.” Tony claps his hands together. “So, tomorrow. Meet me in the parking lot. Yes?”

Inside, away from the wind, Peter is still helpless to quell the hurricane that is Tony Stark. He gives him a tired thumbs up.

With that Tony sets off in the opposite direction, leaving Peter to wonder what the hell just happened, and what his life has become these last few days.

“What a jackass,” he says to himself.

Now alone, he rubs his hands up and down his face, fruitlessly attempting to scrub away the memory of Tony close to him, eyes warm with mirth, the heat of his body up close and the smell of nicotine on his breath as he quite literally tugged Peter’s strings. It takes longer than he likes to will the image away and to calm the furious beat of his heart.

Furious; a feeling Peter is becoming progressively more familiar - and uncomfortable with.

Ben used to say that being angry at someone was allowing them to take up space in your head, rent free. He was right, because it never served Peter well to house animosity when acceptance was kinder to his soul and psyche, and to others -- but he can’t help it with this guy. Tony Stark is like an ear worm of the brain. He has this completely obnoxious way of making himself front and centre despite Peter’s best efforts to cast him to the sidelines.

While he’s willing himself to move on his phone vibrates inside his pocket with a new message.

> ur not my better half, loser > why r u like this > nvm i already know lol. > remember, don’t be late 2morrow

Peter, just a little satisfied with himself for getting under Tony’s skin, saves his contact as Tiny Stank and types back quickly, eager to get back to his seat in the library - assuming Stark hasn’t already occupied it - and make the best of his remaining free period.

< whatever helps u sleep at night < also, plz lose my number after this is over

> way ahead of u, princess > say hi to aunt may for me

Ugh, Peter cringes, pocketing his phone without replying.

That guy is the worst.

---

tagging: @bylerboyfriends, @ravens-starker-stuff, @starker-rays, @ironspiderstarker, @muse-of-gods, @notfor-temporaryuse, @tabbycat1220, @sugarfreecult, @rebel13lion39, @plueschpop, @spideravocados, @jellybbunny, @booktrashme, @elfkido, @mycatislickingmybedsheets, @queerghostboyo, @disneyprincessdominatrix

#starker #ironspider #high school au #tony stark x peter parker

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kayvsworld · 4 years ago

Note

hi kay!!! i hope u are doing well (i have been enjoying all of ur posts as you do a rewatch lol) but i had an art related question. I've always really loved your art style, and I was curious if you took time to develop it specifically or if it just happened over time. Do you have any tips about how to be more comfortable with your own art style?

hello!!!!! thank you, this is a super good question!

my current art style is something that initially happened around 3 years ago i think? I wanted to make drawing easier for myself because I had less time and energy and also was having less fun with art, and I thought that drawing with a bigger brush might like...force me to have some restraint with details and get me to simplify the shapes more? this was the theory & the goal i set out with

i’d been admiring a lot of chris samnee and david aja’s art (heroes, they’re heroes, heroes), so i was looking for a blockier liner to use for my own stuff, bc at that point my art was very loose and more detailed (ex. [x] [x] [x] )

so i downloaded some chisel-tip-looking brushes and ended up doodling this lil dude [x]

and i was like!!!!! oh!!!!!!! i like him. i like his lil nose. i want to do this again.

So then i had that drawing up on my phone as a reference for the next few times I drew, so that I could see what it was that I’d liked about it and try to make it happen again!

as far as being COMFORTABLE with your own style, i think I’m mostly comfortable with mine because I know what I like? i’ve modelled it after art that I enjoy, and I’ve tried to make it so that even if I’m not always thrilled with how it LOOKS bc of underlying issues with anatomy or whatever, it’s always really fun to DO, and that makes me happy :)

but a lot of it is saying “okay, i like this. WHY do i like this” and then trying to do more of that the next time around, or trying to incorporate cool things that other artists do into your own stuff and seeing if it fits or not. and then doing it a lot more times until it feels good. folks who’ve followed this blog for a million years know that i used to be big into softer sketchier lines and painterly stuff, and now im fully on the heavy inking train and i Love It A Lot. inking is fun now!!! incredible

i hope this helps a little bit, anonymous pal!! good luck <3

PS: you can go to kayvsworld.tumblr.com/tagged/mine/chrono and highkey watch me learn to draw, bc I’ve kept all of my ancient baby art up since i first started :)

PPS: also u can find the brush i use over here [x] 4 free if ur curious :)

#long post for blacklist #kayvswords #Anonymous

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butgilinsky · 5 years ago

Text

web boy // pp

warning; slight language, fluff, angst ig??

summary; y/n finally chooses a college to attend and finds peter spying on her through her window.

word count; 3k

pretend infinity war and endgame didn’t happen, thx.

peter parker x reader

she had known for a while. she was surprised that she was the only one that noticed. sure, ned knew, but he didn’t suspect anything before it was literally right in front of his face. MJ made jokes now and again about peter’s absence in specific situations, but she always shrugged it off, her annoyance covering up the suspicion quickly.

but, y/n? she had known peter for far too long. she found it humorous sometimes, how he thought he was being slick around her. the “stark internship” had given it away almost instantly.

y/n didn’t have any experience with super humans, except for the usual queens crimes that were all conveniently solved by the one and only, Spider-Man.

there was one night, during the first semester of their senior year, when y/n and peter had plans to go to their favorite cafe. it was a bit a ways away from the corner of queens they were always tucked away into, well the one she was. about an hour before they were meant to leave, peter called in a rush and said that something had come up. when the news story broke out on her tv, every ounce of doubt was washed away.

although the revelation made up for most of the times that peter had bailed on her, she was still mad at him. she was mad that he thought he couldn’t trust her with the secret, especially since they were only a few months away from graduation and he still hadn’t said anything.

she had been bouncing between colleges for so long, all of them fairly far away, and no word from peter. he hadn’t even talked about colleges with her lately, too busy with spider duties. she wasn’t sure if he even had college plans at this point, let alone where they may have been.

she had grown bitter over the past few months. the friend she’d known since they were 10 years old was going to be swept away from her, and he didn’t even realize it.

when she chose Brown, she was very hesitant. her parents were a mix between supportive and pushy, her mother being from Brown having a heavy impact on their decision for her. although she loved the idea of the school, she also hated the fact that it was in a completely different state. the rather large scholarship was the tipping point for her, none of her other offers being able to compare to it.

she sat across from MJ and ned in the cafeteria, twirling a pencil between her fingers while the two of them talked about something she had stopped listening to far too long ago. it was when a heavy breathed boy plopped down next to her, making it nearly impossible for her to not snap out of her trance.

“ah, you got her to snap out of it!” MJ beamed brightly, paying more attention to the quiet girl than the eager boy sitting next to her.

“yeah, cool. guess what happened?” peter rushed out, stumbling over his words in excitement. ned’s eyes were large and bright, silently urging peter to gush about what had him boasting in the middle of the day.

y/n rolled her eyes before slipping back into her trance. MJ let out a slight huff before turning her attention to peter, stealing side glances at her friend that had been quiet all week long.

when the bell rang, she picked up her tray and her bag, walking away from the table without saying anything to the group behind her.

“what’s up with her?” peter paused his rambling, cheek full of sandwich as he stared at ned and MJ with confused eyes.

“don’t know.” ned piped up, his shoulders shrugging. “she’s been like that all week.” MJ rolled her eyes before walking away from the boys, jogging to catch up with her friend.

“y/n!” she stopped and turned over her shoulder, only because it was MJ. she waited in the middle of the hall, bag thrown over her shoulder and a slightly impatient expression on her face. “what’s wrong?” she finally caught up to her, her arm snaking around the slightly shorter girl’s shoulders, continuing to walk down the hall towards their next class.

“nothing.” she shrugged softly, shedding some of the misery for a moment. she didn’t want to talk about it right now, or ever, really.

“c’mon, what is it? parents on your ass again? peter being an ass again?” y/n’s lips twitched up into a soft smile as MJ elbowed her side, and the two laughed softly.

“just a lot going on i guess.” MJ squinted her eyes suspiciously, but dropped it as the second bell rang. she gave her friend a reassuring smile and told her to not think too hard about it all before disappearing into separate classrooms.

when last period came around, y/n contemplated skipping it. she had waited too long to decide, trudging into the classroom reluctantly as she plopped down in her desk and opened her notebook, doodling in the margins.

peter slid into the seat in front of her like always, turning around to face her quickly before class started.

“what’s up?” she looked up at him for a second, shaking her head softly before returning to her small drawings. “y/n you’re avoiding me-”

“i doubt you have the right to talk, since you’ve been avoiding me for months, peter.” her voice wasn’t harsh, but her words made the message crystal clear.

peter sighed to himself, turning back to face the front of the class. he didn’t know she’d been so beat up about him being so busy, but then again, he was occupied with other things. he didn’t pay attention to anything anymore.

when class ended, peter rushed out of the class before y/n even stood up, which made her scoff. nonetheless, she picked up her things and walked out of the classroom, happy to not return for two more days.

she walked home, skipping the bus as she preferred to spend this time by herself. she almost got all the way home before she saw the web slinger, wishing the ground would swallow her whole in that moment.

she tried to walk around him, not wanting him to spot her since peter knew her after school routine just as much as anyone. she had made it all the way to the corner store before peter spotted her. he stayed perched on top of a three story building, eyes following her as she took the long way home.

she cut through an alley and was soon jogging into the entrance of her building. peter left, doing the rest of his patrol before returning after the sun fell. he sat on the building next to hers, leaning against part of the building’s structure as he watched her pace around her room.

she had her phone pressed to her ear, letting out soft laughs but looking stressed overall. MJ was on the other end of the call, pestering her about the day.

“i’m fine, MJ, seriously.” MJ clicked her tongue, clearly not believing the soft spoken girl.

“you’re stressing about something, and i- oh my god! you picked didn’t you!” y/n ran a hand through her hair, tugging softly at the strands before sitting in her desk chair.

“yeah, i did.” Mj started screaming through the phone, making y/n pull her phone away from her ear as she laughed. a real laugh. an eyes shut, head thrown back, laugh.

peter couldn’t hear the conversation, being too far and the window being shut, but he loved the sight in front of him. the sight of the girl happy and laughing for the first time all week.

“well! what is it?” MJ yelled loudly and y/n went back to her anxious actions, biting the inside of her cheek and eyes looking around her room.

“brown.” MJ squealed again, knowing that it was one of y/n’s first choices. “you’re not mad?”

“oh my god, why would i be? i’m so happy for you!”

“it’s not like, too far?” MJ scoffed through the phone, reassuring her friend that she was truly being supportive. it made y/n smile, which peter didn’t miss.

“if it’s where you want to go, it’s not too far. besides, it’s not Stanford, right?” y/n let out a soft laugh, eyes snaking up to catch the boy in the red suit not too far away from her window.

peter ducked behind the column he had been leaning on, making y/n roll her eyes.

“MJ, i gotta go. i’ll call you back later?”

“okay okay, i’m so happy for you! bye!” y/n laughed before ending the call, placing it on her desk and walking to her window.

she opened the window, leaning out of it slightly and waiting to see if he would pop back up. he didn’t.

“you know, you’d think that someone who had an entire secret identity would be better at not getting caught.” she folded her arms over her chest as he stood straight on his feet. “why are you hovering?”

“hovering?” she rolled her eyes, stepping out onto fire escape outside of her window.

“you think this is the first time i’ve seen you out here?” peter started to shift his weight between both of his feet. he hadn’t been so nervous in a long time.

he’d gotten the hang of this superhero thing, and grew confident over the years. it was a change from the awkward, stuttering peter parker that y/n knew for far too long, but she didn’t mind it. it was nice, to see him comfortable in his own skin.

“i didn’t mean to- i’m sorry.”

“i just wish you’d come knock or something.” she shrugged softly, making his eyebrows furrow behind the mask, which went unnoticed to her.

“i can’t exactly do that.” she rolled her eyes again, hands gripping the railing in front of her.

“yes, you can peter. you’ve done it for years.” his eyes widened at that, the eyes on the mask following suit. “thought i didn’t know?”

“i mean- i didn’t exactly- did ned tell you?” he was walking towards her, only the ten feet between the building separating them.

“no, ned didn’t tell me.” she was shaking her head, a soft smile on her lips before she climbed into her window, a simple look inviting peter in behind her.

he was in it soon after she was, the window staying open as a slight breeze was brought in. his hand reached up to his head, pulled his mask off quickly to reveal a slightly flushed peter parker.

“how’d you know?” his eyes were soft, a slight sheen over them. his cheeks were red and his bottom lip was swollen, assumingely from him chewing on it.

“i’ve been in love with you since i was 13, peter. how could i not know?” she rolled her eyes, sitting down on the edge of her bed as she watched his eyes widen again.

“you what?” his voice was breathy, a pounding in his chest overtaking his senses.

“i’ve known you since i was 10 and i’ve loved you since i was 13. well, probably forever, honestly. but i’m not sure my emotional intelligence was up to par when i was 10 so i just kind of round up-” peter’s hand was over her mouth, cutting over her as he stared at her wide eyed. he was kneeling in front of her, their height evening out.

“why didn’t you say anything?” she shrugged softly, a small smile playing on her lips. he was confused as to how she could confess such a thing and be so calm, since he was farm from that right now.

“when you’re 13 you’re assumed to not really know how those things work, and maybe i didn’t. so i didn’t say anything, since i figured it’d just be a phase. but then we were 15, and you were obsessing over liz. and then liz was gone, but then you were also gone. then we were 16, and i only really saw MJ with ned on occasion. and then we were 17, and there was that girl in your biology class that caught your attention. but you were still absent, still gone and cancelling on me every time we made plans. and now we’re 18, and we’re about to graduate and i-” she bit her cheek again, eyes never leaving his but her words halting. “and now i’m going to college.” her voice was softer, almost at a whisper level as she stared at the boy whose eyes had gone glossy and lips parted as he stared right back at her.

“but i thought- you haven’t picked yet.” his eyes narrowed slightly, and she let out a soft smile as his face twisted into realization soon after. “that’s why you’ve been quiet this week.” she nodded at his statement, watching him try to search her for any hints.

“i chose a few days ago. mom and dad breathing down my neck, and the scholarship had been a ticking time bomb since it was offered. had to jump now or i’d lose it.” the mention of the scholarship made peter stand back up, taking a step away from the girl.

“brown?” she nodded again, watching his lips twitch up in small smile, but it had been injected with evident disappointment. “that’s great, y/n.”

“it doesn’t seem like you think so, pete.” he shook his head quickly, realizing that she wasn’t smiling anymore. this is why she didn’t say anything. her friends were destined to be upset with her for going so far away.

“that’s not it. i’m happy for you, i really am, i just- fuck.” he swore softly, rubbing a hand over his face in frustration.

“it’s just that it’s too far and you’re upset about it.” his eyes snapped over to hers, seeing the slouch in her shoulders that hadn’t been there a minute ago. her eyes had glossed over just like his, and her head had fallen slightly to the side. “this is why i didn’t say anything-”

“so what? you were just going to keep a secret until when? until we were walking across the stage and beaming brightly at each other?” she rolled her eyes. the fact that he thought she was hiding it when he hadn’t asked about colleges in a few months had been almost ridiculous to her.

“i wasn’t hiding it. i would’ve said it if i had been asked. but i just chose a few days ago and nobody’s asked about it, and i just-” she looked away from him, letting out a breath of air through pursed lips. “there’s nothing here for me anymore, pete.” she looked back at him, eyes full with tears that clouded her vision.

“there’s- i’m here.” he shook his head as he said it, knowing that he could never ask her to stay.

“you’re not, though. you haven’t been here in years, peter. i tried for so long to rationalize it all. i tried to weigh my options and god did i almost go to columbia.” peter was shaking his head again, eyes screwed shut as she told him everything he didn’t want to hear. he knew he’d been absent, flaky even. but he didn’t know how to balance it all. “i didn’t mean to upset you, but i can’t stay here. i need to get out of this place, peter. i’m suffocating.”

he tugged at his hair, mask thrown on her desk as he stood in the red and blue suit. he let out a soft laugh to himself, confusing her ever so slightly.

“the one girl, the one person that’s been there my whole life. the one constant in this shit show i call life.” he looked at her, hand over his mouth as he watched her chewing on her cheek again. “the one girl i let myself fall in love with, and i pushed her away.” she shook her head, standing up with a soft smile.

“you didn’t push me away.” she whispered, arms snaking around his neck as she tried to make light of this whole conversation. “you haven’t been around much, sure, but i knew why. it didn’t take me too long, y’know? i had a suspicion since you left liz at homecoming, but i figured it out at the beginning of this year. you didn’t push me away, but i can’t be in new york for the rest of my life.”

his forehead fell onto hers, a small smile tugging at his lips as his hands found her hips, squeezing ever so slightly.

“what if-” he bit his lip slightly, pulling back enough so he could look at her clearly. “your parents still live here, so you’ll come back every once in a while, right?” she nodded slowly, waiting to see where he was going with this. “well you’ll be here every so often, and i can try to drive out to rhode island. it’s only like 3 hours away-”

“how do you know how far away it is?” he bit his lip softly, smiling down at her.

“i kind of checked how far away all of your options were. you know, just trying to prepare myself for how far away my heart will be.” she rolled her eyes at the cheesy line, but smiled anyways. “so?” his eyebrow quirked up, asking her the question without explicitly spitting it out.

“i’d love that.” he smiled widely before she stood on her toes, pushing her lips up into his.

they pulled away when there was a knock on her door, startling them momentarily before her mom’s voice called through the door.

“y/n, invite peter to stay for dinner!” the two of them laughed lightly, y/n moving to her drawer that had a pair of peter’s sweatpants and a few of his shirts. hard to have a friend for so long and not leave clothes at each other’s places.

she threw him the clothes and smiled widely, motioning her head towards the door.

“let’s go, web boy.”

#peter parker #peter parker fic #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #Avengers #far from home #homecoming #spiderman #spiderman homecoming #spiderman far from home #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom x you #tom holland x reader #tom #holland #peter #parker

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frangipanidownunder · 6 years ago

Note

Mulder and Scully always leave little notes for each other around the office

Scully,Meet at Wine Down Bar at 2pm. – M.

She unsticks the Post-it and re-reads it. His private education cursive. The way he punctuates. It’s a directive, not a question. Why didn’t he just phone? He is addicted to his cell, after all. She holds the note, stuck to two fingers and calls Ethan, letting him know not to worry about dinner. She has a sneaking feeling she might be late home.

The next time he leaves a note, it’s longer.

Scully,Thanks for your company in quarantine. I would have gone stir-crazy without you. I spent a lot of time thinking about what you said before the case, that you’ve lost too much time already. We both have. There are so many things we have yet to achieve. And I’m looking forward to doing them together. – M. xx

PS: How do you feel about Wisconsin?

She smiles. Hopes she doesn’t have to get him out of a military jail again. But knows she will if she has to.

This note is in an envelope. He’s made her name look beautiful, somehow. Like a wedding invitation or a Valentine’s or a significant birthday card. Not that she’ll see any more of those.

She taps the envelope against the desk, chastises herself for thinking that way. It’s been a hard-fought progression from fear to acceptance for her; starting awake in the small hours and reminding herself that she’s dying, realising she no longer able to smell his cologne in the office, to work out if he’s already been in, calling her mother more and Bill Jr less.

Mulder hasn’t made the transition. Won’t make it. She runs a finger under the flap and frees the notepaper inside.

Scully,I need some time to think about what happened in Providence. I feel empty. I feel confused. I feel that given the right circumstances, I would do it all over again, if it meant I could find out what happened to Samantha. Honestly, that’s the thing that scares me. So, I’m taking a short break.

I never got to thank you for believing in me, for your trust and your candor. Your strength, your support saved me.

I’ll be back when I feel ready.Yours, M.

PS: can you feed my fish?

PPS: I’ve enclosed an article you might find interesting. Although, maybe I was attracted to this because I misread the headline as ‘Frankenstein’ not ‘Frankincense’.

She unfolds the newspaper clipping and sighs. Her doctor has told her about a hundred different holistic approaches to cancer treatment and not one of them has inspired her. But there’s something so genuine about Mulder, about his concern for her, that she sits on her chair and reads the findings with careful deliberation.

There’s a box on the desk with her name printed on an official shipping label. It’s brown and otherwise unremarkable. She sips her coffee and looks at it a while. Mulder comes in, suave in a new suit. His pale green shirt makes his eyes shine like amber. He’s wearing a new tie too. Charcoal, with a tiny silver polkadot.

“What’s that?” he asks, standing in front of the closed door. He looks like a man who is waiting to close out a deal. He looks hot.“A box,” she says and his face remains impassive.He’s behind her before she can cut through the parcel tape, leaning his arms either side of her, trapping her under him. She can see the fine quality of the fabric of his jacket. She can see those fingers, remember the things he does with them. She quells the shiver she feels ruffling up her spine and opens the box.Inside, there are dozens, hundreds even, of notes on every pastel shade of paper. They all say one thing:

I love you.

She picks up a handful and they scatter over the desk.

“Secret admirer?” he asks, fingering a blue note. It’s in the shape of a love-heart. “Guy’s got quite the crush, I’d say.” He sits in his chair, facing her. Smiling.

She allows him the smile. “I wonder if Jean’s in the lab today. She’s got a background in graphology.”

His grin stretches. “Pretty sure she’s out for the rest of the year, Scully.”

“How long did this take you, Mulder?”

He leans back and clasps his hands behind his head. He says nothing. But he looks like a man who’s closed the biggest deal of this life.

She misses the notes.

She misses his words in the fog on the bathroom mirror, in lipstick on a tissue, in seeds on the kitchen counter, in screensavers on the laptop, in texts and answerphone messages. He left his heart in doodles and pictures and letters in the most surprising ways. She misses him.

When she gives up their son, she misses being human, having a heart, feeling.

She starts a journal again. Writing when she should be eating or sleeping or working. She misses them.

Pages and pages of thoughts and guilt and confessions. She’s writing to make sense, to seek redemption, to rationalise and compartmentalise and cope. It doesn’t work.

She misses them. God, she misses every cell of both of them. But it’s what she deserves. This empty life is nothing less than she deserves. It’s all her fault.

Her words are incoherent. Messy. She strings sentences together that mean nothing. She thinks about Missy and how she would read so much into this stream of consciousness, imagines how she might light candles and celebrate how Dana was letting it all out, purging herself.

When he’s sentenced to death, she burns them.

Later, in some nameless motel in some nameless town, she finds a note on his pillow.

Scully,I’ve gone for a run. I’ll bring back bagels and coffee and more of that hair-dye.-M.PS: I love you.

He’s drawn a love-heart around the whole thing. She clutches it to her chest and waits for the sound of him coming back to her.

#txf fanfic #my fanfiction #au headcanons #notes from the heart

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laurelsofhighever · 5 years ago

Text

The Falcon and the Rose Ch. 40 - Correspondence Interrupts

This letter is bordered by talented sketches of angular motifs, lofty architecture, and statues of Paragons, as well as various dwarven contraptions that have no counterpart on the surface. At the bottom is a doodled stick figure hitting its head on a door lintel.

23rd Solace, 9:32 Dragon

Dear Rosslyn,

I miss you.

Did you think that would be it? I was tempted, believe me, but then I thought you might not write back in retaliation, or really go off and fight a bear just to prove a point, and neither of those things is really appealing. Orzammar is huge. The journey here was quiet, a few days up White River then across the pass on horseback. Eamon was trying to be useful, I think, but his way of going about it makes me remember Brantis’ endless etiquette lessons with fondness. His pointers for meeting King Bhelen did help, though, so I shouldn’t really complain too much. You’ll be pleased to know I only made a fool of myself once, when I called Second Matron Nerav “Your Majesty” and managed to insult everyone in the vicinity. At least that made a good first impression on Bhelen’s sister – I don’t think they’re a very fond family, but don’t tell Eamon I said that.

But we don’t need to dwell on that. You should see this place. (And not just because then you would be here with me and I’d get to enjoy your company – have I mentioned that I miss you yet?) We’ve been housed in the Diamond Quarter, which is disappointingly unencrusted with gems, with rooms that overlook the river of lava that flows below the city. It’s a lot of lava. I guess they just hope it never erupts, or that people don’t fall into it. I try to stay away from the edge of my terrace, because the walls are just a bit too low and if I tripped, well, nobody would really know what happened. Eamon would chide me for saying it, but there are probably a lot of noble dwarves down there who ‘tripped over their bootlaces’.

Tomorrow they’re going to hold something called a Proving in my honour. It’s some sort of tourney, from what they tell me, and after there’s going to be a market in the Diamond Quarter by special dispensation, whatever that means. I would have put all that in this letter, but then what if you got bored reading it? Or it was delayed and you thought I hadn’t written at all? This is much safer. I still have one to Cailan that has to be finished before the morning, so I should get to that.

Yours,

Alistair

PS. They have private bathing rooms here with engineered sluices that channel hot water over your head and then drain it away, with little knobs and dials that let you change the temperature. It’s like the hot springs in Redcliffe, but without the smell. I’m going to ask how they’re crafted and then try and persuade Cailan to have some fitted in the palace, for when this war is over.

PPS. The doors are all too low.

~~~~~~~~

This letter is written in fine ink and paper in a flowing hand. One corner is waterstained, as if the package in which it was carried sprang a small leak.

27th Solace, 9:32

Dear Alistair,

Receiving your letter was a balm for an otherwise miserable day, especially when I saw your sketches. You have the hand of an artisan, and I’m sure there are many more wonders in Orzammar that you have yet to see. Rest assured I could never get bored reading about them. The sluices especially sound fascinating. Once you have the specifications, perhaps I should order some for Highever as well?

My journey so far has been eventful, but not pleasant. We are two days late to Redcliffe, having tacked against a changeable wind all the way from Lakehead, and only just made it to the harbour in time to beat the true storm. It’s lashing against the castle walls as I write, making such a noise I doubt I’ll sleep more than a few hours, and if it continues to the morning it might be best to order a reprieve and delay the journey to Gwaren. I’m trying not to take this as an omen, but the wind almost seems to have a voice, and between that and Cuno’s continued nausea, this campaign is not off to an auspicious start. Ser Gideon, at least, seems to be keeping a steady hand on the reins in my absence. Take that to mean: Baudrillard is behaving himself, for now.

There is little left to report here, except that things are too quiet without you, and the captain’s cabin seems much bigger without a bunkmate. Brantis has taken ill with a cold, and since Cailan has little need for another chamberlain on the front lines, I have talked him out of putting his health in danger by travelling with us, though he put up a fight worthy of an ash warrior. Lasan has missed me, and in fact he nearly knocked me over in his excitement when I visited the stables. I will take it as a sign of affection rather than restiveness, especially since the arl’s Master Dennet seems a responsible sort and has kept him well exercised. The man had many fond things to say about you, by the way; is it true you once tried to raise a stray fennec cub in a corner of the kennels without the arl knowing?

You can save your answer for your next letter. In the meantime, please don’t fall into lava, and be careful about Eamon. He has more experience, but don’t forget you are the Prince. My father once taught me a trick for dealing with his Banns: listen to them, tell them you’ll take their opinion under advisement, and then do what you were going to do in the first place. It’s always better to make sure that’s an informed decision, but Cailan has faith in you, and so do I.

I miss you.

Yours,

Rosslyn

PS. There are rumours of a large number of bears roaming the Redcliffe arling. Don’t tempt me.

~~~~~

This letter is written in several different inks. Doodles and diagrams of fighting stances decorate the margins.

25th Solace, 9:32 Dragon

Dear Rosslyn,

I keep wondering if my last letter has reached you yet. I’ve barely had time to sit down, let alone write, and I didn’t want to do it in fits and starts in case I missed something out. Yesterday started early, with the Proving. We sat in a box above an arena and watched what must have been five rounds of a tournament before lunch. I assume it was lunch. It would be far easier to tell down here with one of Bann Ferrenly’s clockworks – may have discovered something Eamon calls ‘a niche in the market’.

The dwarves have a fascinating fighting style, it’s spare and direct, and if you were here I’m sure you’d have something to say about it. In duelling matches, at least, the two opponents sometimes circle each other to find a weak point, but once they engage there’s very little lateral movement, and they seem to favour forward momentum instead, perhaps due to confines of fighting in tunnels? Eamon didn’t seem very interested when I pointed this out, but afterwards Valesh– that’s Bhelen’s sister – asked what was different about surface fighting, and offered to spend some time sparring with me. Just you wait, I’ll have some new tricks to show you when I get back!

I wish the day had ended as well as it began. In the final of the Proving, one of the fighters turned out to be a casteless dwarf in disguise, and despite clearly outmatching her opponent, she was arrested. Nobody will tell me what happened to her, and they all wondered why I cared in the first place.

26th

Negotiations started today. They didn’t get very far. If you thought Fereldan politics were tiresome, the Assembly seems to make a sport of infighting. And who knew how complicated mining rights could be? All that came of a three-hour long meeting was a headache and a vague assurance that there would be a market for Fereldan goods if a trade route was formalised, though I’m not entirely sure what we’d be getting in return unless Cailan thinks to take over the majority of lines from Orlais. It’s all just a big, tangled knot of hot air. Eamon says these things always start like this. We’ve been offered a tour of the city soon, when time allows.

2nd August

I should have sent this days ago. Not having above your head blurs everything together here, so I lost track and before I knew it, it was already All Soul’s Day. I hope you’re alright. Know I’m thinking about you, and I’d be there if I could. I miss holding you, and kissing you, and generally just being in your company. Today of all days, I want you to know it, and I hope you’ve got company. Not the Orlesians, they don’t count. Maybe this letter can give you some comfort, even if it is a little late getting to you. It’s hard to believe it hasn’t even been a month since I saw you. I hope the weather is better for you now, and Brantis’ cold, and Cuno’s poor stomach. Being confined with him in that cabin would be enough to give anyone nightmares, though if I may be so bold, the rest of the company more than made up for it last time.

Enclosed is a dagger I found in the market. Eamon said it was too expensive, but since I took yours and you don’t get to be here to see the craftsmanship for yourself, it’s only fair. The stallholder called it ‘The Rose’s Thorn’. I’m not sure the design on the pommel really resembles a rose, but the blade is dragonbone and I thought you’d find a use for it. I hope you like it.

Yours,

Alistair

PS. Nobody ever proved how that fennec got into Isolde’s favourite picnic basket!

~~~~~~~~

8th August, 9:32 Dragon

Dear Alistair,

The Rose Prince of Ferelden thinks I’ll be able to use the Rose’s Thorn, does he? I am shocked. How very forward, and after such bold claims about wanting to kiss me!

Are you blushing now? I’m picturing a blush to the tips of your ears, but if you’re not quite that affected, then no matter. I have a list of all the innuendo I thought to use, and when you return I’ll be sure to read them all to you, out loud in funny voices so I can hear you laugh. In all seriousness, the dagger is beautiful in every way, including the design on the pommel, and I will treasure it, all the more because it came from you. Expect Cailan to be very grumpy in his next letter, however; he was quite put out to find there wasn’t another Thorn for him.

I kept busy on All Soul’s Day overseeing the harbour blockade. The townsfolk aren’t entirely happy about losing their deepwater berths as it means their larger vessels are trapped behind the breakwall and the smaller ones cannot be taken as far onto the sea, nor catch as many fish, but the alternative is that Loghain would be able to land soldiers in Gwaren again, and we none the wiser as we push north. It is a necessary precaution, and it was Cailan’s own idea to compensate the people with the supplies leftover from Lothering – undrugged, you’ll be pleased to hear. Otherwise, the king has been rather morose. He puts on a cheerful face, but the loss of Anora has been a blow to him and to our plans. When I am not mediating quarrels between the soldiers, it’s a task trying to engage him in anything other than maps and battle plans. Perhaps he will respond to the latest idea devised by Captain Morrence – though I suspect Leliana, who still has not revealed her true dastardly nature as an Orlesian spy, had a hand in it too. They wish to try a unit of mounted archers modelled after the Steppe people of the Anderfels in order to make an effective counterpoint to the hitting force of the chevaliers. If it works, it will be especially useful in situations where our archers would otherwise be vulnerable to flanking. When you return, you won’t be the only one with something new to teach the other!

We will be decamping in the next few days, heading for the Brecilian Passage. The Bannorn between here and South Reach are firmly under Loghain’s control, and I am not looking forward to it, though better news comes from the coast. The Clayne have blockaded both Amaranthine and Highever, and sunk three triremes off the coast of Brandel’s Reach.

I don’t mind if you think about kissing me.

Yours,

Rosslyn

~~~~~~~

18th August, 9:32 Dragon

Dear Rosslyn,

I never thought you had it in you – turning a generous, perfectly innocent gesture into base insinuation! You are a terrible, terrible person for toying with a man’s sincerity like this (but I’m glad you like the dagger). Maybe Eamon will get one for Cailan if he asks nicely. And now my mind is picturing the awful connotations of that sentence, and it’s all your fault.

However, you can’t just drop an idea like mounted archers without more details. Do you know how you would implement it? Are you turning archers into riders, or riders into archers? Either way, if they prove successful, it would be so much easier to keep ranged fighters out of harm’s way, and that could free up more of our infantry as attack units. I’m sure you’ll work out the logistics, you always do.

As for here, the discussions at the Assembly are still going in circles, so King Bhelen has decided on a recess while the nobles decide exactly what they want. He seems to genuinely want to open Orzammar to foreign trade, but a lot of the noble houses are traditional and they won’t do anything without precedent from the Shaperate. While we wait, Valesh has appointed herself as my unofficial guide, since like most of the upper-caste women here she doesn’t seem to have much else to do. I’ve seen most of the Diamond Quarter and the Commons, but Bhelen still seems determined to present Orzammar’s best side to me, and I wasn’t permitted to the lower levels of Dust Town, where the casteless dwarves live. Their situation riles me, to be honest. They spend their lives being told they’re worthless, and then are never allowed to prove themselves otherwise, simply because they were born to the wrong parents. Is it any wonder they turn to crime when there aren’t any alternatives? Valesh seemed confused when I pointed this out to her – she said I would never have been counted casteless because Maric was my father, but that isn’t the point. And it makes me wonder about how just our own criminal system is, and how much privilege works to moderate punishment.

It’s a thought for another time. For now, know that I think about kissing you a lot, but mostly I just want you here. I miss you.

Alistair

PS. Is it entirely certain Anora has betrayed us to Loghain? Perhaps Cailan has reason to hope yet, and no reason to do anything rash.

~~~~~~

Traces of dirt and blood cover the edges of this letter.

25 Aug, 9:32

Alistair,

There has been no time, and a response to your last letter has remained unwritten longer than I would have liked, though I thought about doing so every day. Our supply lines were ambushed on the Southern border, all but twenty of the guards killed. The rest of the army is fine – I am fine – but without stores, our progress north has been halted while we requisition from the local villages, and I have set aside plans for the mounted archers until we can field the extra horses. The Orlesians are being kept back from requisition duty by Cailan’s command, and so far they are holding to it, which is a mercy; the soldiers we have sent out are under strict orders not to use excessive force to take what is needed, and to compensate the goods fairly, but we are not popular with the people here. I cannot entirely blame them. After all, Howe has done the same in Highever, and I condemn him. We are taking food away from the people who will need it most in the coming months, with no guarantee that they will benefit – and yet I know Bann Ceorlic has manufactured the scarcity with an aim to painting the king as a villain. He robs his own subjects ahead of us so that when our scouting parties reach a settlement, we must choose either to take what little is left or to leave them be and go hungry, and either choice is a victory for him. He means to starve us out and then offer battle when we are weakened. It is a cunning plan, but he underestimates our discipline.

I wish you were here. You would know exactly what to say, or you would see some insight the rest of us have missed. At the very least, you might have better luck than me persuading Cailan to cheer up. He received a letter from Anora two days ago but would not let me know its contents, and since then he has been downtrodden and prone to snap at everyone. This situation makes me uneasy. Either she is betraying us, or she is betraying Loghain, or she intends to play both sides against one another and claim allegiance to whichever emerges victorious, and there will be no way to tell her true purpose until the dust settles.

You, at least, seem to have found an ally in Valesh Aeducan. She might not be fond of her brother, but if her goals are aligned with his, she might be willing to help you win over the other deshyrs. What is Eamon doing to help these negotiations progress? Be careful he doesn’t try to block your input.

It’s not the same without you.

Rosslyn

~~~~~~~~

30th August, 9:32 Dragon

Rosslyn,

Don’t ever compare yourself to Howe. That man is a monster. I saw the reports coming out of Highever just as you did, and I know you would never go as far as that, or take such delight in causing pain. The fact that you’re even considering your actions in such a light proves you are a better person. I’m afraid I can’t help much with the rest, but I know you’ll persevere. You’re too stubborn for anything else. (That was meant to be a joke!) Be careful against Ceorlic, and don’t worry too much about me, I’m learning to keep my wits. Eamon spends his days trying to curry favour with various nobles, and when he isn’t doing that, the both of us are shut up with Bhelen, negotiating one way then another about whether Orzammar should keep sending weapons to Orlais, or how to standardise our currencies for fair exchange, or other things that are almost equally interesting. Part of me is starting to think we’re being kept around for the amusement of the Diamond Quarter, with all the running around we do, but Valesh at least has agreed to teach me about her culture. In return, she wants to learn more about Ferelden. I told her you would make a better teacher, which made her laugh. Apparently I spend most of my time talking about you. If that’s true, it still doesn’t compare to how often I think about you. Which is a lot, in case there was any doubt.

The lack of sunlight is starting to get to me, I think.

Yours,

Alistair

~~~~~~~~~~~

This letter is written in a shaky hand, the ink smudged and the corners scuffed, with the distinct smell of elfroot lingering on the paper.

29th August, 9:32 Dragon

Alistair,

I know what you’re going to say. It was reckless, and stupid, and dangerous, but without any bears to test myself against, my options were rather limited. I meant that as a joke, but seeing it written down, it doesn’t much feel like one. I might blame the palliative the healers gave me, but truth be told there has been precious little humour to go around in the past few days and we are all stretched thin. Rest assured I am alright, untainted, and for an encounter with a hurlock captain, three broken fingers and some bruising doesn’t seem like much of a price. If not for the timely arrival of the Grey Wardens, the toll could have been much worse. The darkspawn came out of the ground less than a day away from where we were to meet Ceorlic, and the horde was of a size dangerous enough to call a truce between us. Even so, having to keep the dogs back for fear of the taint, this is the first time I have been truly grateful for the hitting power of the chevaliers. When the Wardens arrived, the ferocity of the horde seemed to vanish, and the last of them were chased down with immolations to prevent the surrounding lands being Blighted. Ceorlic fell in the battle, but his adjutant made permanent peace and has agreed to join us in return for having saved their lands. His soldiers have their parole and are being permitted to tend to their harvest. It was Cailan that led the charge that saved us; he is more grounded now, and seems more resolved in his duties as King, which is a weight off my mind.

The Grey Wardens stayed for the funeral rites. They were led by Warden-Commander Duncan, in fact, and he asked after you when he found out we knew each other. He’s quite charming, in a roguish sort of way, and we talked for a while, mostly about Highever and old stories from the coastlands. He threatened to invoke the Right of Conscription for me, but I pointed out I was more valuable to the Wardens as an ally than a recruit, and he let me be, but perhaps only because I allowed him to pick volunteers from the ranks to bolster the numbers he lost in the battle. Some went with the promise that the Joining would cure the taint from their injuries in the battle, and it saddens me to say the man you matched at Lothering was among them; he was a fine and dedicated soldier, and hopefully now a dedicated Warden.

I may have to employ a scribe until this injury heals, because writing with my off-hand is intolerably slow, and Cailan is hovering. His enthusiasm is much restored, but as eager as he is to send you his own account, I made him wait until I’d finished this.

Yours, as ever,

Rosslyn

~~~~~~~~~

2nd Kingsway, 9:32 Dragon

Rosslyn,

Eamon received the official report sent through this morning. The news has spread fast, and defeating a horde of darkspawn has probably impressed the nobility here more than anything else we’ve done so far, especially with Cailan’s flair for storytelling, but there was nothing from you. The aftermath of a battle is always busy, and especially where darkspawn are involved, but please, I need to hear from you that you’re alright. Duncan used to tell me stories about how the taint can lie dormant, about how everything’s fine until it’s not.

Please send word when you can.

Alistair

~~~~~~~

13th Kingsway, 9:32 Dragon

Alistair,

Your lessons in the Shaperate must be taking up a lot of time. There have been two rounds of letters since our darkspawn encounter, and yet I haven’t heard from you. I’ve missed reading about your life as a paragon of diplomacy – and no, it isn’t the same when Cailan is the one telling me about how you brought Lord Dace around to the idea of luxury imports by waxing lyrical about plum jam.

We took Vintiver. The place is little more than a fortress and an attached hamlet, well stocked for a traditional siege. I ordered the mages to raze it instead. The walls shattered and crushed the houses when Bann Grainne refused terms, which meant the reinforcements they were expecting from Aikwith arrived too late and were caught unprepared. It is thanks to Queen Anora’s intelligence that we knew they were coming, but the ruthlessness of the plan was mine alone. Anora’s apparent decision to side with us still seems too good to be true, but with both Bann Grainne and Bann Jevrin on their way to Redcliffe’s dungeons, I am willing to reserve judgement for now.

I cannot help but wonder what you would think of all this. I wish you were here, instead of trapped under a mountain. I wish you would write to me.

~~~~~~~~~

15th Kingsway, 9:32 Dragon

Everything I hear about your campaign in the south is success. You must lose track of the days, and marching leaves little time for letter-writing, but I miss them. I miss hearing your voice, even if it is only in my head. Did I do something wrong? Say something? I’ve reread your letters over and over but I can’t see anything that makes it look like you were upset with me. Do you miss me? Are you even reading these before you throw them away?

Cailan says you’re well, but his words sound like false cheeriness, and I can’t help but worry. The negotiations are finally moving forward. We agreed mining rights yesterday, and a cultural exchange of smelters for gardeners. There are some things that will never grow underground, but we might at least be able to broaden Orzammar’s local cuisine to include more than just lichen and nugmeat.

Please write back.

Alistair

~~~~~~~~

16th Kingsway, 9:32 Dragon

Alistair,

The Bannorn is steadily coming under our control, but cracks are starting to show. Baudrillard and his mercenaries are beginning to boast of their role in the campaign, and I fear where it will lead, especially now I have vetoed his suggestion to bring in more chevaliers. Besides that, the year is marching on and still we have no sight of Highever, or Denerim. The harvest sits in the fields, and when the frosts come there will be nothing salvageable, and nothing to eat unless the coffers are drained to import grain from the Free Marches.

I don’t know why I keep writing these letters, why I keep denying the inevitable. Cailan says you’re well, and Teagan too since he joined us to take Hestley and Fenwater. I am relieved to hear it, but you’ll write to tell them so, and not to me? I only know you talk to Teagan because he said you enquired after me in your latest letter. What can I have done to deserve this silence? Barely two months ago you stood on the cliffs above Dunedyn and told me you wished to court me, and I believed it. I’ve seen too much of you to think you would act so cruelly as to ignore me after that. If you are still reading these, tell me what I have done, so I may redress it. Or is there some other explanation, and it is just my letters going astray? Do you think I am not writing to you?

Cailan has just come to invite me to dinner. I must seem very down indeed if even he has noticed my mood.

I still miss you.

Rosslyn

~~~~~~~~

This letter is wrinkled in places and smells like beer, written in an uneven, scrawling hand.

26th Kingsway, 9:32 Dragon

Rosslyn, why won’t you talk to me? Another batch of letters, and another, and still nothing. you can’t be that busy, and I refuse to believe what you said that day on the cliff was meaningless, but I don’t know what to think anymore. Is this Cailan’s influence? Eamon mentioned that the king’s letters are “encouraging” but I didn’t have the stomach to ask further. I can’t think that you would find me so replaceable, but then I keep wondering, has he kissed you yet? Bedded you, after everything you said to me in the broch? Did you enjoy it? There was a feast today to celebrate King Bhelen’s birthday, featuring all sorts of surface food to get the deshyrs more used to foreign customs, but I barely said two words, I couldn’t get the image out of my head, until I somehow ended up alone with Valesh. We talked. I don’t remember the subject, but it hardly matters. Nothing is what it seemed. One moment we were joking and the next she slid out of her chair and offered to perform an act for me. She said if I liked, I could think of you while she did it, that I could pretend it was you. Maker forgive me, but I nearly let her.

I miss you so much it hurts. These trade negotiations and Bhelen’s pushes for change are crowding out the casteless dwarves that live in Dust Town, there’s fighting in the streets, but all I can think of is what you might say, what you might do if you were here.

But you’re not, and you won’t talk to me and I don’t know why.

~~~~~~~~

There are several blotches partially obscuring the words of this letter, as if someone had dripped water on it

3rd Harvestmere, 9:32 Dragon

Dear Alistair,

I know about the planned engagement between you and Valesh. Cailan mentioned it over breakfast this morning, and then asked me why I was so pale. All those mentions of her in your letters bear a new meaning now. I cannot know if she is party to the decision to match you, but I know you cannot have gone into this willingly, unless you are not the man I thought you. I am a Cousland, I know of duty, but if for the sake of the alliance with Orzammar you have chosen to go through with this, then you could at least do me the courtesy of telling me, instead of leaving me to this silence. I keep thinking about what you said on Innse Gaillean, and the words mock me. After all this time, perhaps I was the one fooling myself.

At least tell me you are safe. Apart from hearing Cailan regale us all with hopes for an alliance with the dwarves, I have read the official reports Eamon sent two days ago. It said there was a rebellion from the casteless dwarves, that they sieged the palace and took you prisoner. If you ever had the smallest regard for me, let me know that you’re alive, and whole, and alright. I’ll ask nothing more.

Rosslyn

P.S. We march for South Reach immediately. One of Loghain’s magisters, Caladrius, has left Denerim, and we require all speed to beat him to South Reach before he can establish defences. If we do not succeed, we will not reach Denerim before the spring, but if we do, we will rob our enemy of one of his most powerful allies. I pray Anora’s intelligence is true, that we reach Caladrius in time, and that Baudrillard’s vanity does not outstrip my strength to control him.

~~~~~~~~~~~

3rd Harvestmere, 9:32 Dragon

Rosslyn,

You must have heard about Brosca’s rebellion by now. It’s strange how cyclical life can be. She was the dwarf condemned for being casteless fighting in the Proving, if you remember. If you’ve kept my letters. There has been so little time to write in the past few days, but I know Eamon sent a missive to Cailan as soon as he was able. The Carta caught wind of our agreement with Bhelen, and realised it would cut away their black market trade with the surface. They stormed up the rest of Dust Town and a fair number of the smith caste who were convinced they’d lose their work to surfacers. Brosca and some others took the palace guard unaware and captured us all, until at last one of her own turned against her – a member of the warrior caste disgraced after his house vanished in the Deep Roads. When they were routed, Brosca was caught, and they’re holding her now far more securely than before, until the Shaperate finds precedent for a suitably grisly punishment. It’s the caste system that got them into this, but even Valesh still refuses to see that giving people no options means they will go out and carve their own. Perhaps that sympathy is what saved us, or perhaps we were only ever meant to shield Brosca from the consequences of her actions. It doesn’t matter. All I want is the sky over my head and the grass under my feet and the wind in my face. And you.

There’s nothing like a life-threatening moment to put things into perspective, and there was a long moment when I thought I might not make it. All I could think about was never seeing you again, or telling you how in between the battles and everything else, I found myself falling for you, how I can’t imagine my life without you. I don’t even know if you’ll read this, if you’re still getting my letters, but I need to say it anyway.

Despite how little time it seems we’ve spent together, I love you. I need you to know that. Eamon says Cailan is hopeful for a match, but Maker take me if I don’t hate him for it. I love you. I only hope that when I see you again it won’t be too late to say the words out loud.

I am yours, forever.

Alistair

~~~~~~~

This letter seems to have been written in a hurry, with blotches of ink and crossed-out words scarring the page. A bloody thumbprint marks one corner, with a larger stain across the bottom that bleeds into the signature.

9th Harvestmere, 9:32 Dragon

Alistair,

It is done. South Reach stands only as rubble now. Crews are still picking through the ruin so I cannot say if Arl Leonas was inside when we brought the walls down, but Caladrius is dead. His reserves of power were greater than even our templars knew how to contend with, deriving from blood magic rather than lyrium. The men atop the castle walls were already dead when we arrived, but still they fought us, and then so did every one of ours who fell to them. For three days, I had to cut down soldiers I recognised, who had told me the names of their children. Loghain sanctioned this. We had no choice in the end, but I have failed Arlessa Élodie all the same.

This is the last letter I will write. It is clear either you aren’t receiving my letters, or are ignoring them, and time will tell which is the truth. Fortune has allowed me one final chance, and so I am sending this to you with a messenger I can trust, rather than through the usual channels, and he promises to see it safe directly into your hands. What I have seen in the past few days has left me sickened, but still worse is the thought that what you said that day above Dunedyn lies forgotten. Everything seemed so simple back then, though it was a mere season ago.

I have not forgotten, but if things have changed, if you willingly choose the path laid out for you, then I will follow Your Highness’ wishes. I will not interfere, and you will always find a loyal subject in me, should you have need of one.

Your servant,

Rosslyn Cousland

#dragon age #dragon age: origins #alistair theirin #alistair x cousland #cousland #rosslyn cousland #da:o #epistolary chapters are so much fun

23 notes · View notes

franeridart · 7 years ago

Note

Thank u for that sweet sweet awase content, I love that boy

Thank you for liking it!!!! :O

Anon said:Do you take constructive criticism? (Not a joke lol actually curious)

Nope. Since I don’t study art, I’m not currently actively trying to become better at it, all I do is doodle whatever silly idea I have at the moment without an actual clue of what I’m doing while at it and post it cause people seem to like it when I do, concrit is literally the last thing I need. By which I mean, I already know my art could be way better than it is, but getting better at it isn’t really the reason why I’m posting it. To be honest, if I wanted someone to crit my doodles I’d sign up for an actual class to have a real teacher tell me how to get better, I wouldn’t turn to the first random anon on tumblr with no way of proving to me they have any more clue about art than I do

Anon said:Imagine this, Kirishima with really long hair

No need to imagine it when @50shadesofhq already did such an amazing job drawing him~

Anon said:Hey!!! I want to thank you for...existing 😁 Tonight I was feeling really sad and finding your art has “brought me back to life” so as to say, so thank you. Your art is incredibly good so please keep believing in yourself and your skills, and keep making beautiful pieces like you are doing now 🤗🤗🤗

Thank you!!!! So much!!!! I’m glad my stuff could help you feel better ;^;

Anon said: hi i just wanted to let you know that you're one of my favorite artists ever and you make so much good content for so many fandoms that i love like i first found your blog through haikyuu!! and then i found the bnha and now yowapeda and everything else aaaaaa i'm rambling now but whenever i see your art it makes my day and j wanted to say that by e

!!!!!!!!!!! glad you like my stuff!!!! and mostly glad you like ywpd, that fandom feels so small honestly!! :D

Anon said:Hey I just wanted to let you know that I love all of your artworks with all of my heart and it always makes my day a bit brighter to see that you have posted something new :)

Oh man thank you so so so so so so much!!!!! ;O;

Anon said:I'm not even all that familiar w awase but I'm still blown away by your drawings of them they look !!!! So good !!!

THANK!!!!! YOU!!!!!! He’ll play a nice part at some point next season, I hope you’ll end up liking him!!! ;u;

Anon said:I love seeing that kiribaku at the top of your art blog (at least on mobile??). It makes me feel so warm the moment I check your blog. (Still love the old banner too tho!!!!)

I’m glad you like it!!!!! Warm colors make me feel good so I wanted something like that on my blog :D one day I’ll change the icon too..... one day........

Anon said:I LOVE YOUR ART OK?? AND I MAY HAVE JUST SPENT TWO HOURS SCROLLING THROUGH YOUR BLOG BUT OH MY LORD IS IT WORTH IT. You are an amazing artist and I hope you have the most wonderful and brilliant of days. Ps. Thank you for giving bakubro the love he deserves PPs. Your jirou drawings make me unbelievably happy

THANK YOU!!! THIS IS SUCH A GOOD ASK I’M HAPPY THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!! ;O;

Anon said:Do you still headcanon baku and Mina as dragon shifters or is it just Kiri at this point? (I still freaking love tiny dragon baku lol)

Yes and no! My fantasy drawings aren’t exactly telling a story, so I’m doing whatever with them - it’s not really headcanons, it’s just me playing around with any idea I find entertaining at the moment!! So yes, definitely, Baku and Mina as dragon shifters are still a thing I love a lot and I might draw more in the future! But that doesn’t exclude me drawing for the AU in a setting where only Kiri is a dragon either~

Anon said: Ur dragon Kiri half-shifted made me have this idea : if he n Baku r cuddling and he's like that and Baku feels an itch, he'll just rub himself against Kiri to do the scratching (Kiri isn't even bothered, nor complaining, Baku kinda looks like a cat when he does that and he's in l o v e)

You know anon, considering Kirishima’s quirk Bakugou could technically do that in the original universe too hahaha

Anon said:More band au bakushima pls!! 🙏 My crops are dying

Anon said:You better do the after show of the band AU or i will die. I mean... i already die with Bakugou say "pretty boy" to Kiri, but you know.... please do the after show asdfghj

Maybe soon!! I don’t exactly have a clear idea of how that plays out, but I enjoy drawing Bakugou like that so why!!! not!!!!

Anon said:I live for your art! Thank you for creating such amazing content ♥️

SOB thank you for liking my stuff and letting me know you do!!!!

Anon said:HOOOLLLYYYYY SHIT, THAT SKETCH OF BAKUGOU W THE HELLA EYELINER AND THE TATTOOS??? I AM SHOOK

GLAD YOU LIKED HIM!!!

Anon said:Oh mamma the way you draw Kiri’s forearms! Le swoon 😍😍😍

!!!!!! He’s a buff boy after all!! :D

Anon said:Are you okay with fans coloring your lineart, or does it bother you? (Not with the intention of posting anywhere, just for fun and maybe to submit it back to you later) I know how you feel about altering your work, but what's the drill for this specifically?

I don’t mind but you have to promise me you’re not posting them anywhere - if it’s just for your personal entertainment then it’s fine, I can’t really stop you anyway, but I really don’t want them anywhere online.

Anon said:Hello! I wanna say your bakugou and kirishima comics are adorable! I wanted to ask, do you think Bakugou would be as open with showing his soft and mushy emotions for kirishima around the others like in your comics? Like how he was okay with snugs on the couch, you don’t think he’d want to be more privet?

Sure, why not? Bakugou’s never hidden his feelings in the manga, nor has he ever felt embarrassed by them! He’s a bit awkward in showing affection I guess, but to me it feels more because he isn’t used to it than because he wants to hide it - if he were to start dating Kirishima he’d definitely have no problems with letting everyone know they’re in a relationship of that sort, I think :D well, it’s just my interpretation of it anyway haha

Anon said:Your art is just so beautiful, Im iN LOVE I CANTNWKWISIWIKW PLS KEEP DRAWING

I CAN TRY !!!!!!!! Thank you so much for the support!!!!

Anon said:Do you ever get that feeling when you have a ship and you see art for it and suddenly you get hit with a "oh fuck I really love them" cause that happens every times you post kiribaku ! I always get butterflies in my stomach when I see your art, you make the cutest scenarios and you keep their personalities right it never seems ooc. You honestly make the best comics/art I'm so glad you're in the bnha fandom

Oh my god thank you so much!!! ;A; sob

Anon said:you've heard of jiroukami but have you considered: jiroushido

Yup! I’ve also drawn them in the past!! They’re in my MinaJirou tag :D

Anon said:your band au is officially my favourite thing on this site i love it and i love you thankyou

Thank you so much holy heck!!!! ;O;

Anon said:Your art is so cute and makes me smile everytime I see it! Thank you for always making my day better!

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!! I’m!!!!!!!!!!! Glad !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:I’m so gay for your art it’s so fucking sexy dude

Oh my g od are you sure the word you meant to use is sexy I’m ??? !!!!

Anon said:Consider,,,,, bakugou with glasses

I did draw that in the past!!!

Anon said:pssst fran have u heard that in bnha light novel baku is actually scared of ghost story???

Seriously??? :O is there a translation for that part anywhere online?? :O :O

#fran answers #i just realized the answer about the concrit sounds a bit snappy #that wasn't my intention at all #all i mean is that im a fragile baby that gives herself strength to keep posting and drawing #through knowing this is a place for sketches and doodles of dubious-to-low quality #i don't really need to change that or put pressure on myself to try and be good #when i know i'm really not #the moment i'll wish to change something in my style i'll look it up and slowly work to fix whatever problem i found #meanwhile im definitely not posting to be criticized over something i never even studied seriously #so there's that #anonymous

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colibriheartbit · 4 years ago

Text

Boy

In a world full of uncertainties and with evils, you have to live with dignity, eloquence, strength, self sustainability, and love. These will promote happiness and positive mental health in your life, no matter what personal problems you have. In the light of morning, appropriately groom yourself after waking up; cook your own breakfast; if you have younger siblings, cook for them too; make sure all your homework is packed in your backpack before you leave home; kiss your mama goodbye as she drops you off at school; make sure you attentively listen to your teachers’ lectures; you can keep a notebook for doodles as you listen because studies show we retain more information by doodling as we listen (Andrade, 100-106); at lunch time sit with your friends, but every now and then sit with a lonesome child; if the child welcomes you to his/her life, welcome him/her to yours and open a spot for the child in your table; join extracurricular activities at school; those look good on your resume when applying to college; is soccer an extracurricular activity that will fit my needs?; yes, and in my opinion, one of the best; not only will it look good in your resume, but you will constantly remain active and live a healthier life; plus, you can get a full scholarship to play soccer at a university; remember that sportsmanship comes before making goals; if you follow this simple rule, you can be one the best players in your team; always admire and respect your coach and teammates, but leave some room for admiration from your coach and your teammates; by this, I mean to play with dignity, value your teammates, and make many goals; to make many goals you will need to practice harder than the rest and all year long; only like this can you afford the luxury of your teammates passing you the ball to make a goal; greet and kiss your mama when she picks you up after school; remember to always treat girls and women with upmost respect; let the ones closest to you know that they are unconditionally loved by you; let them know that even though all men are created equal, we all have a unique way of loving and radiating light upon the beings we love, things we create, and through our actions; show them that you are one of the best at it; proclaim and value what you have; share what you can with your loved ones and those you care for; gain spiritual and financial profits; invest your time and money on those you care for; make mistakes, but learn from them; otherwise, they are in vein; learn to lose, but strive to win; most importantly, succeed; if at first you don’t succeed, the satisfaction of your reward is greater when you do; to succeed you will need certain qualities; listen, to always understand your surroundings; study, to learn and gain knowledge and wisdom; be fearless of failure, so you can improve and make better next time; energize yourself; this can happen through spirituality, meditation, and/or exercise; there will be major setbacks in your life; no matter what it is, never stop; remain active; find new hobbies that accentuate your ever changing life; stoping without purpose might bring sadness to your life; stoping with a purpose without finding hobbies that settle and transform with your ever changing life might also bring sadness to your life; never let sadness define you; if it does, get personal help; live a joyous and positive life by remaining active with your family, your loved ones, but most importantly with yourself.

Works Cited

Andrade, Jackie, “What does doodling do?,” Applied Cognitive Psychology, January 2010, vol. 24, no. 1, pp. 100-106, dx.doi.org/10.1002/acp.1561, Accessed February 6, 2018

#Hummingbird Message #Essay

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taimatrolls · 7 years ago

Text

In which Curric finds Adillo on the roof top...

Rp with @warrentrolls following the doodle I just posted..

[23:39] -- backBite [BB] had thought he'd seen a familiar silhouette from the street and with hardly anything pressing to do, decides to investigate, which means climbing up the face of the building. and the closer he gets the more he finally catches scent of the person up there. he pulls himself up over the ledge with a grunt. --

[23:39] BB: v^v^ Ↄh hey, called it.

[23:42] -- protegiParvo [PP] Is seemingly lost in thought, eyes staring far off over the buildings as the other joins her. She's slow to react to him talking to her, blinking silently as if her mind is processing that she heard a voice up there and words in the first place, before the reaction came seconds too late. She turns to him and blinks, almost looking a bit startled. --

[23:43] PP: (+] you... [+)

[23:43] PP: (+] what are you doing here? [+)

[23:48] -- backBite [BB] stands up and stretches for a moment, walking over to her. --

[23:48] BB: v^v^ Came tɔ see whɔ was just sitting ɔn a rɔɔftɔp. What are /yɔu/ dɔing here?

[23:51] PP: (+] beats me, sitting on a roof top i guess? [+)

[23:52] -- protegiParvo [PP] rolls her eyes --

[23:52] PP: (+] so, do you usually pass by buildings and climb up to check on the trolls sitting up on the roofs? is that some hobby of yours? [+)

[23:55] -- backBite [BB] goes to cautiously sit down next to her, but still a safe distance away. --

[23:55] BB: v^v^ Ↄnly when it's peɔple I knɔw.

[23:57] -- protegiParvo [PP] huffs lightly at his answer and turns her eyes back out over the edge, her arms crossed in her lap --

[00:03] PP: (+] .... i see. [+)

[00:03] -- backBite [BB] glances at her out of the corner of his eye as he looks out over the distance as well. --

[00:04] BB: v^v^ ...It's been a bit. Did I miss anything?

[00:04] -- protegiParvo [PP] pulls lightly at her sleeves and shrugs --

[00:05] PP: (+] not really? im not doing anything more than i usually do [+)

[00:05] PP: (+] just [+)

[00:05] PP: (+] ... [+)

[00:05] PP: (+] existing and all that [+)

[00:06] -- protegiParvo [PP] gives a half hearted grin as if that was a joke of some sort --

[00:09] -- backBite [BB] does not smile back. he can see right through that. --

[00:10] BB: v^v^ …Shɔuld change it up then sɔme time. Nɔt saying we gɔ intɔ the wɔɔds and get fucked up by a mɔnster again but y’knɔw.

[00:10] PP: (+] ... [+)

[00:10] -- protegiParvo [PP] frowns slightly and turns away again --

[00:11] PP: (+] im good, not like i dont have enough idiots to fight around here, even if they aint monsters [+)

[00:12] PP: (+] dunno what there really is to change up [+)

[00:14] -- backBite [BB] sighs to himself, looking forward again. --

[00:15] BB: v^v^ Dɔesn’t have tɔ be picking fights. Just like. I dunnɔ. /Gɔing/ sɔmewhere new. Ↄr sɔmething.

[00:15] PP: (+] like where [+)

[00:16] BB: v^v^ Well I dɔn't knɔw where yɔu've been. Ↄr where yɔu like gɔing fɔr that matter.

[00:16] -- protegiParvo [PP] mumbles something under her breath about how it hardly matters because it'd not change anything anyway :') --

[00:17] -- backBite's [BB'S] ears pin flat as he frowns. --

[00:18] BB: v^v^ Dɔing shit yɔu like dɔesn't have tɔ turn yɔur whɔle wɔrld right side up.

[00:18] PP: (+] i dont like anything, jehari [+)

[00:18] -- protegiParvo [PP] looks at him, deadpan --

[00:19] -- backBite [BB] raises an eyebrow --

[00:19] BB: v^v^ Yɔu like yɔur lizard. Yɔu like Pancake. Yɔu like /pancakes/, and apparently staring wistfully ɔut ɔver the tɔps ɔf buildings.

[00:20] -- protegiParvo [PP] gets up from where she's sitting and starts pacing along the roof top, biting down at her lower lip as he talk --

[00:20] -- protegiParvo [PP] gesh curric just let me hate everything god --

[00:20] -- backBite [BB] NO!!! --

[00:21] -- backBite [BB] looks over his shoulder at her. --

[00:21] BB: v^v^ It is actually pɔssible tɔ hate life but like what's in it.

[00:23] -- protegiParvo [PP] just gonna stress everyone out by balancing on this edge bc she hates herself... But she rolls what he said around in her mind. He was. Correct technically, even if it annoyed her. But also... She liked her lizard yeah, but he'd be fine without her did she leave her with Ceodoa or Taskur or something.. Pancake was fine with Jehari... Pancakes... Didn't taste anything lately. Sits back down again although over there.

[00:23] PP: (+] you dont say [+)

[00:23] -- protegiParvo [PP] sighs --

[00:25] -- backBite [BB] watches her quietly as she settles again. --

[00:25] BB: v^v^ Yeah. But yɔu've prɔbably already heard all that befɔre.

[00:26] -- backBite [BB] turns back around. --

[00:27] -- protegiParvo [PP] closes her eyes and pulls at her sleeves. She had. Many times. --

[00:29] PP: (+] .. what do you want.. [+)

[00:31] -- backBite [BB] pauses, and then straightens his glasses on his face, looking down at the street. His hand grips tightly to the edge of the roof. Still not 100% used to these heights though he's getting better. --

[00:31] BB: v^v^ I just want tɔ hang ɔut with yɔu.

[00:31] PP: (+] ...... [+)

[00:31] PP: (+] why? [+)

[00:32] -- protegiParvo [PP] scoffs --

[00:32] PP: (+] im not exactly the funniest company [+)

[00:36] -- backBite [BB] knew she was going to ask that, uuUUUGH. He sighs and frowns deeply. --

[00:36] BB: v^v^ That's nɔt what I lɔɔk fɔr anyway.

[00:36] PP: (+] oh? then what. [+)

[00:39] -- protegiParvo [PP] *** can tell he's not happy to answer, but she's also not going to buy it that easily... She looks over at him. --

[00:45] -- backBite [BB] roughly scratches the side of his head, a dog fighting off fleas. --

[00:46] -- protegiParvo [PP] the fleas that are her questions --

[00:46] -- backBite [BB] the FEELINGS --

[00:46] -- protegiParvo [PP] BOY --

[00:48] BB: v^v^ Yɔu dɔn't-- Yɔu're nɔt--...Yɔu dɔn't... fake being happy. And yɔu dɔn't get up in my business. Sɔ when yɔu're having an ɔkay time, it's actually happening. It's nɔt sɔme bullshit.

[00:48] PP: (+] ... [+)

[00:49] -- protegiParvo [PP] blinks silently and looks at him..... --

[00:53] BB: v^v^ It's less like. Being dragged intɔ stuff and uh. Mɔre like just walking tɔgether. Which dɔesn't happen a lɔt.

[00:53] -- backBite [BB] speaks through gritted teeth, this is SO DUUUUMMMBBB HE HATES THIS. --

[00:53] -- protegiParvo [PP] looks down towards the ground because staring at him is getting awkward --

[00:55] PP: (+] oh.. [+)

[00:55] -- protegiParvo [PP] can't find anything else to say, twiddles thumbs and pulls at her sleeves instead. --

[00:58] -- backBite [BB] slumps a little, his elbows resting on his legs. --

[00:58] BB: v^v^ Yeah. Sɔ uh. I hɔpe that's a gɔɔd enɔugh answer.

[00:59] PP: (+] ... what, you mean im not getting a full out serenade and an essay explaining yourself? [+)

[00:59] -- protegiParvo [PP] trying to... joke... get rid of this awkward... --

[00:59] -- protegiParvo [PP] sticks her tongue out his way --

[01:01] -- backBite [BB] smirks reluctantly, looking back over at her. --

[01:01] BB: v^v^ Nɔt if yɔu want prɔper fɔrmatting and sɔurcing. Alsɔ yɔu dɔn't want me tɔ sing.

[01:02] PP: (+] unbelieveable... disappointed... [+)

[01:02] -- protegiParvo [PP] gets up from where she's sitting and hesitates a bit, then moves over to him and sits back down next to him again - on a safe distance, of course. --

[01:03] PP: (+] youre ok i guess. D- for effort. [+)

[01:04] -- backBite [BB] looks up, fighting a grin that ends up getting big and toothy anyway. --

[01:04] BB: v^v^ D- is a failing grade yɔu asshɔle.

[01:04] PP: (+] you were close at least [+)

[01:04] -- protegiParvo [PP] snorts --

#adillo roleplay #rp #little red and the wolf #warrentrolls #; v ;#pesterlog

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serioussherastan · 6 years ago

Text

Catra, who at the time was planning a sneak attack on the brightmoon "fortress" hears about this "day of adoras birth" and through very good surveillance and some more information from entrapta( there was a time whenever the other princesses had tried a similar incursion on her "birthing day", it completely disrupted her work for the day, but it was still fun) she decides that she HAS to get something for Adora, even though she still hates her and she should be plotting to kill her and the other princesses. In the end she ended up getting her two things, a new pair of boots, they look relatively the same as her old ones but they mysterious match the new crop top Bow gave her and a gorgeous sword made by someone from one of the southern countries that had willing submitted to the horde and is world renowned at blacksmithing, the only reason why their services were not standarized was because traditionally made weapons were very hard to make and weren't as efficient or "dependable" as the energy based horde weapons already in use. The sword itself was a masterpiece, the metal had a certain shine to it that when still, looked normal, but when moving had a iridescent....glimmer to it, looking almost like a black opal. The guard was the piece de resistance, though it didn't have a stone in the middle like the she ra sword, it had strips of metal coming out from the center, all different shapes and sizes and textures and colors, one was so transluscent that it didn't even look like metal, it almost looked like a part of queen Angela's wings, another could've passed for solid gold, it probably was, another was dark blue with flecks of gold in it, another was a dark silver metal that had an almost purpleish glow to it, it went on and on, layers upon layers of them, there were no two alike, one strip was particularly noticeable, it was dark maroon with black streaks running through it, almost like lightning, thankfully it didn't go it a sphere, that would've been heavy, the sword was still shaped similar to the she ra sword, almost like a mirror to it, a yang to its yin, the hilt was nothing special though it was extremely comfy, almost more so than the she ra sword, almost, the pommel was made up of a clear crystal that reflected a rainbow of colors when brought in direct contact with sunlight. Though of course with catra getting a present for adora, entrapta couldn't not get one, though she really didn't understand the point of giving one to her, she was still upset that the princesses had left her behide but she was sure it wasn't adoras fault. shed made something for her before they had left her and thought now would be the best time to give it to her. It was a really simple silver locket (you could put it on a bracelet or a necklace) it had a matching silver button in the middle that matched the rest of it and when pressed it temporarily created a forcefield around the bearer that protected them from any outside projectiles, in the end scorpia helped her pick out a few more tokens and fit them around a lightweight silver friendship bracelet, catra even added a small scrap of fabric from adoras old bed and stuffed it into one of the charms. After they had compiled all their gifts( scorpia had added a pair of earrings she thought that adora would look stunning in) catra went back to brightmoon and left the package on adoras bed for her to open after she got back from the party, with no note not really just four words and a suspiciously catra looking doodle on the bottom right corner

"Don't forget about us"

PS: Catra was never caught but one teleporting princess did find quite a bit of crazy brown hair all over the place inside brightmoon

PPS: Adora loved all of the presents gifted to her by catra though she didn't connect the dots untill the next morning when she was more conscious, and by then catra was long gone. She even figured out how the locket worked after figeting with it for a few hours and accidently turning on the force field, it even made her question how catra had come across this kind of tech, which wasn't anything like the horde tech she was used to

PPPS: The second sword is so that Adora can fight dual wielding with both swords in battle and I don't think that catra would've given Adora a shield because shields are boring, swords are much cooler plus it's good symbolism because adora is from both a princess (she ra sword) and a horde backround(catra sword or dark sword cause the metal is almost black with that shimmering look mentioned earlier)

guys

GUYS

So Adora has never had a real birthday before… and I’m just?? so soft thinking about Bow and Glimmer pulling together her first birthday party??

-Glimmer would BEG her mom to let them use the extra special and nice dinner hall™

-Bow would decorate all over with small flags with tiny Adora faces and Glimmer would FILL the place with sparkles

-they would both try to bake an extra special cake with extra icing and fail miserably ajhsjsjdj

-they call the other princesses!! (and sea hawk lmao)

-Adora is…… very confused

-Why are all this people here??? WHY ARE THEY GIVING ME STUFF??????? IS THIS A SHE-RA THING???

-Bow of course is very emotional and tries to explain the concept of a birthday to her

-Adora, who legally cannot see Bow cry without immediately saying yes to whatever he wants:……………….. guess its my bd then

-Mermista and Sea Hawk gift Adora pretty sea shells bc she never really had seen them before and she likes pretty new things even if she has no idea what they are!

-Mermista says that it’s ‘whatever’ but Sea Hawks rats her out and says she was worrying a lot about what to give her jahshsjshd

-Perfuma gives her a small red succulent…. Adora names it Reddie

-Frosta shows up and very formally gifts Adora a mini ice sculpture of a horse,,, Adora loves it

-Spinnerella and Netossa gift her COOL NEW WEAPONS and also cupcakes because??? hello they’re great and Adora has never had them before

-Queen Angella also pops by for some minutes and gives adora traditional Bright Moon jewellery…… sparkly

-Bow gives her a croptop! because she still has her Horde clothes and that’s big yikes!

-Glimmer gives her a book with stories of all over Etheria. Adora never really had a true childhood and she’s really curious so,,, yeah. Bow also makes small sculptures of the characters to help Adora imagine them better!

After all of this Adora is very overwhelmed but so happy :’) her friends love her and????? she loves them a lot too

Feel free to add!

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destieldrabblesdaily · 8 years ago

Text

Whiteboard. Destiel, canon!verse, 1.3k. When you fail to say the words, there’s always the option to write it down.

For a while now, there has been a whiteboard in Dean's room.

Cas often sees Dean use it; to organize clues for cases that he and Sam can't quite solve, and to write down reminders, or to simply rearrange his thoughts. And, on rare occasions, to draw silly doodles to help him get his mind off of whatever supernatural disaster is next on the agenda.

Currently, aforementioned board is empty though, and Cas stares a hole in it, sitting on Dean's bed, arms wrapped around his knees, his chin resting on his hands. Dean is there too, right beside him, lying on the other side of the bed, his back to Castiel, his shoulders tense. There might as well be some sort of invisible wall between them, and Cas absolutely hates it. Hates it whenever they fight like this, and what makes it even worse is that Dean refuses to talk. Whenever they have an argument he'll snap at Castiel, once maybe twice, but after that, it's usually the silent treatment.

And it makes Castiel feel powerless every time, because how can you fix something when you don't even get a chance to plead your case?

Dean isn't sleeping, Cas can tell from his breathing, harsh and uneven. Which must mean that Dean doesn't like this either, and just like that, inspiration strikes.

"Dean?" Cas mutters quietly, but not unkindly.

A grunt from the other side of the bed.

"I know you're angry, I know you'd rather not talk, but I thought that maybe..." Castiel pauses, trying to figure out which words to choose. "I thought that maybe we could write it down."

There's a huff from Dean, and Cas doesn't know what to make of that, but he refuses to give up now. Slowly, he gets up from the bed, shuffling towards the whiteboard. He picks up one of the markers, a blue one, and starts writing.

He hears Dean move on the bed, probably getting up as well, and that's what Cas had been counting on; Dean's curiosity getting the best of him.

When Cas is done he puts down the marker, his eyes scanning the message one last time.

'I apologize for what I did yesterday, I'm sorry I went after those rogue angels by myself without telling you. I didn't want you to get dragged into my problems, and I feared it wasn't safe for you to come with me. Which you would have, had I told you before I left.'

He hears a muffled sigh behind him, and he's surprised to see Dean already standing right there. Dean rolls his eyes as he reads the message, but his face relaxes, and the green of his eyes is softer now. After a long moment, he theatrically picks up a marker as well, the green one, giving Castiel that face that says 'do we really have to do this?'

But Dean does it anyway, and writes a reply, the Dean Winchester way that Cas knows so well.

'I want you to drag me into your problems, you idiot, it's not like I don't drag you into mine. PS: you forgot to apologize for the part where you almost got killed. PPS: fine, apology accepted. Don't ever do that again.'

Dean smiles gruffly, but he soon drops the act, reaching for Castiel's hand. He pulls Cas towards their bed, and Cas feels like he can breathe again. They're in the clear.

He's going to keep this trick in mind.

From there on, messages in blue and green are scribbled across the whiteboard at all times, going from

'I apologize for leaving without helping out with the dishes.'

'Dude, why did you use up all the warm water this morning?!'

and to more serious ones such as

'It was irresponsible to hunt that shape shifter alone without asking us for backup, Dean. Sam agrees with me.'

It works, and Dean even seems to approve of this new talking-without-talking solution. Their fights don't last as long, and even small arguments are more easily forgiven when they voice their frustrations instead of exchanging angry stares and icy silences. Not to mention the endless bickering that has finally come to a stop, for the most part anyway.

Cas thinks this might have been his best idea yet, and possibly the first one that didn't immediately backfire on him. He's definitely pleased with himself.

That is until the plan does backfire, because in all fairness, that's what plans inevitably do when Castiel is the one coming up with them; they come back to bite him in the ass.

On a slow Saturday morning, Castiel freezes in the doorway of Dean's -their- room, almost dropping the two mugs of coffee that he's holding. Dean is awake alright, and he's standing beside the whiteboard, the entire space covered in Dean's green handwriting.

There's only a tiny fraction of blue, a brief message in a corner that Castiel had fondly left for a sleeping Dean before getting them both some coffee: 'sorry for hogging all the blankets again last night'.

Taking a few steps closer, Cas notices that Dean's lower lip is trembling, and the hand that's holding the marker is undeniably shaking. He looks at Castiel as if he's seeing him for the first time, and Cas puts down the mugs, a bit alarmed now.

"Hey, Dean, look at me, is something wrong?" He murmurs, gently taking Dean's wrist, rubbing his thumb against Dean's pulse.

For the second time, Dean looks at him as if that one gentle touch is enough to break him into a million pieces, his green eyes watery. And Castiel doesn't understand. They haven't had any major struggles recently, have they? None that Cas can think of.

And all of a sudden it's like a floodgate, and as Dean's tears fall, so do his words.

"I don't deserve you, Cas, that's what's wrong!" Dean exclaims, sounding agitated, running his free hand through his already messy hair. "Here you are, freaking apologizing for hogging some blankets, apologizing for whatever unimportant shit you shouldn't be apologizing for, and then there's me... And I- I should've apologized so many times about hell knows what, but I didn't because I'm a coward! And a jerk on top of that... Go figure, huh?"

Dean sounds somewhat calmer towards the end, but Cas remains utterly confused. Until he remembers the whiteboard because Dean points him to it. Castiel's breath gets stuck in his throat as his eyes fall on Dean's confessions.

'I'm sorry for every time you came to me for help but I failed you.'

'I'm sorry for every reckless deal I made in my life without thinking about what it would do to you.'

'I'm sorry for kicking you out of the bunker when you were human for the first time and needed me most.'

'I'm sorry for beating you up because I couldn't control the mark any longer.'

'I'm sorry for taking way too long to realize that Lucifer was possessing you, even though you're my best friend.'

The list goes on and on. Castiel feels tears slipping down his own cheeks by the time he reaches the end and sees Dean's final confessions.

'I'm sorry for never saying "I love you" out loud... but I love you so much, Cas.’

Castiel blinks away his tears, thinking of a million different answers that might be appropriate, fully knowing that if he had to make a similar list, his would be about as long as Dean's. But he realizes that that's not what counts at the moment, and with a trembling sigh he takes Dean into his arms, kissing the top of Dean's head as Dean holds on to him like his life depends on it.

They'll talk about it, this time Cas knows they will, because at last Dean appears to be ready to open up. But, first things first.

Castiel carefully lets go of Dean, and he wipes away all of Dean's words, leaving the board empty again. Shooting Dean a timid smile, he picks up the blue marker as Dean wraps his arms around Castiel's waist and leans his head on Cas' shoulder while Cas writes a reply.

'Don't be sorry for anything. I love you too, Dean. More than you'll ever know.'

#drabbles: mine #destiel #deancas #canon!verse

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electricladylandwithponies · 7 years ago

Text

QUALITIES OF DIGITAL PROTOTYPING AND HOW INTERACTION DESIGNERS CAN BENEFIT FROM THEM

Introduction

As designers, we strive to explore different ways to conduct a design process. One way is to prototype using Digital Prototyping. The following essay will explore the different qualities and values of digital prototyping and how it can help Interaction Designers in the design process. To get an overview of both Interaction Design (IxD) and Digital Prototyping (DP), the text will give brief information about IxD and more thoroughly on DP.

Interaction Design

Interaction Design is the design of interactive products and services. Its main focus is the way people interact with these products and services. This is also why IxD is widely connected to User Experience (UX). When talking about IxD, people often refer to the five different dimensions of IxD. These are words (1), visual representations (2), physical objects/space (3), time (4), and behaviour (5) ("Interaction Design", 2017).

Digital Prototyping

A prototype is an early adaption of a product. A sample, if you will, of what a product might look like and what features it might have. Prototypes are made to give input to designers and help them visualize and realize products or services. It can be used to get feedback from a user when conducting user research or from stakeholders when they first see the prototype. This is known to designers as prototyping and is an important part of the design process (Budde, Kautz, Kuhlenkamp, & Zullighoven, 1992).

Digital Prototyping is all of the above, but using a digital stance. These prototypes can be made for a vast array of prototyping tools but all with a digital interface. When prototyping digitally, the designer is able to make a close-to-real prototype. If the designer is aiming for making an app or website, the prototype might just look exactly as a working website, but is solely made by PDF’s or JPEGs. That’s one of the beauties of working with digital prototyping. As a designer, being able to make a prototype that is very much real looking for upcoming user testing is often of high importance. For instance, if the designers aim is to test specific things, such as the size of a button or the colour of a background, imagine how easy that would be when prototyping digitally. The designer simply make two versions of their interface and meets with users to get feedback.

For the user, testing the prototype, it will be much easier choosing one of the two or hopefully even have thoughts on how it could be even better, is easy. They experience the prototype. If a designer on the other hand wouldn’t have made a prototype, but instead just asked the user to use their imagination, the feedback and valuable insights would be of less value than when prototyping. (Buchenau, M., & Suri, J. F., 2000).

Julian Bleecker, an artist and a technologist with a huge interest in Internet of Things (IoT) and IxD, has written a short essay on designing fiction and how prototyping is science fiction. He explains prototyping as a way of connecting today and the near future. While prototyping is making a sample of an upcoming product of service, so is writing science fiction. When a user see a product in a sci-fi movie, he or she imagines how it could work in real life. What features and what look it might have. This is what digital prototyping is all about. Showing of a product that is near complete to get the user to imagine how it could be iterated and how it could be used (Bleecker, 2009).

If you’re a designer and you’re conducting user testing, one of the best feedbacks you could get is “What if…”. If you, as a designer, provide the user with a good enough sample (prototype), he or she hopefully thinks of ways to iterate it automatically (Cranford Teague, 2015).

As prototypes can be made from almost everything, paper, wood, metal, an Arduino, there is a range of different fidelities of a prototype. Imagine the difference of a mock-up app made in Marvel. It looks like a working app, feels like an app since you have it in your phone and you can even work your way through the interface by clicking. Place this prototype next to the same app, made with paper. The designer has made sketches and doodles of an interface. Even if the designer can imagine how the paper prototype might come to life when it’s made and all code is implemented, this will most likely be harder for someone that is not a designer. If the tester could imagine anything at all, the feedback and valuable insights would be less, since to them, they are holding a piece of paper. However, if a prototype is too high in fidelity, the user might accept it as finished. (Egger, F.N. 2000).

When conducting user research with a prototype an important aspect is to give the user tester a way of exploring the look and feel of what a final product would look like. As mentioned earlier, the designer would want the user to experience the prototype and therefore understand it. The designer should know its audience and prototype in a “correct” fidelity (Houde, S., & Hill, C. 1997).

Tools for Digital Prototyping

As mentioned earlier, there are many ways of making prototypes digitally. One way is using an Arduino, a single-board microcontroller. This is useful when the designer wants to prototype something with a connection between physical and digital prototyping.

The possibilities of prototyping with the Arduino seem endless and is easy to grasp for user as well as new designers.

Other tools include programs such as Marvel, Adobe Experience Design, Google Sketch and UXPin, which are all helpful tools to make mock ups for apps or website with a near-working interface.

Conclusion and relation

For a designer to be able to push a design idea forward, some kind of prototyping is often needed. Since there are so many different ways of making high-fidelity digital prototypes, it can be of paramount importance that the look, feel and fidelity of this is just right for the user test. Since IxD often have a digital focus on the final product, prototypes of the same sort can help the designer make the final pivot towards the perfect product. In prototyping, it’s the response of the user that matters. It’s the same for IxD.

Digital Prototyping should be an indisputable tool for any interaction designer to get those important insights from users. Since user experience and user interaction is the main focus of an interaction designer, its unquestionable that the early feedback from the users is of highest importance (Buchenau, M., & Suri, J. F. 2000).

The conclusion can therefore be made that a good, well thought digital prototype that is suitable for the specific design process can make an enormous difference on the final design.

References:

Bleecker, J. (2009). Design fiction. A short essay on design, science, fact and fiction. Near Future Laboratory.

Buchenau, M., & Suri, J. F. (2000). Experience prototyping. Proceedings of the Conference on Designing Interactive Systems Processes, Practices, Methods, and Techniques – DIS ’00, 424–433. https://doi.org/10.1145/347642.347802

Budde, R., Kautz, K., Kuhlenkamp, K., & Zullighoven, H. (1992). Prototyping (1st ed., pp. 33-46). Berlin, Heidelberg: Springer Berlin Heidelberg.

Cranford Teague, J. (2015). 5 ways to make temporal prototyping your next design skill. Creative Bloq. Retrieved 30 May 2017, from http://www.creativebloq.com/web-design/make-temporal-prototyping-next-skill-91516798

Egger, F.N. (2000). Lo-Fi vs. Hi-Fi Prototyping: how real does the real thing have to be? “Teaching HCI” workshop , OZCHI2000 , Sydney (Australia), December 14-19, 2000

Houde, S., & Hill, C. (1997). What do prototypes prototype. Handbook of human-computer interaction, 2, 367-381.

Interaction Design. (2017). The Interaction Design Foundation. Retrieved 29 May 2017, from https://www.interaction-design.org/literature/topics/interaction-design?ep=armin_z-dot

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upsett-spaghett · 8 years ago

Photo

Ok here we go. Sorry I haven’t been able to get this done sooner, I’ve been studying my ass off for finals. But, after too long, here is my official bio for Nath. (Plus some extra sketchbook doodles, sorry for the messy writing)

@neko-puff

@pinkiainfinity57477

@cybertube-sequel

–

Name: Nathan Dushlan

Nicknames: Nath, Nate

Gender: Male

Age: 20

Born in: Michigan, USA

Currently lives in: Ohio, USA(he goes to collage at Ohio State)

Height: 5'8"

Weight: 173 lbs

Eye Color: Hazel

Hair Color: Light Brown

Family: Natalie(Mother-51), Evan(Brother-24), Matt(Brother-26)

Power: Can generate electricity from his body and use it in various ways(charge arrows, send power to machinery, this is mainly machinery based, with Nate being able to control the electrical current and therefore a machine, as well as generate sparks from his fingertips or other parts of his body. He could probably do natural electricity(lightning, etc) if he really tried but the effort would probably kill him so he doesn’t. Combined with Jason, they can create an electricity Bomb of sorts, similar to a bolt of lightning striking a tree.) He’s also not sure if he’s found a “glitch” or not, but after battle he’s discovered he can help teammates slowly recover PP by “charging” their weapons with his powers. It does take quite an amount of time and energy though.

(Fun extra tidbit- when working with others w/ weather/storm powers he can sometimes throw them off a bit by accident. His body naturally conducts electricity and sometimes it can cause lightning to strike him or things near him. Luckily it doesn’t hurt him, he just describes it as a “slightly tinglily and jumpy feeling” and in larger doses “like I just drank 6 monsters in a row”)

Weapon: For ranged, he uses a Bow and arrow, which transfers over well from IRL. The arrows he shoots are automatically generated thanks to being in Cybertube, so he doesn’t carry a quiver. He can charge the arrows he shoots with his electricity power and shoot them while they are still being effected by it. Different types of arrows can be shot(but only two, including the normal ones)Though, he often prefers to just shoot normal arrows and charge them up. For melee/close ranged, he uses his body. Luckily, he knows how to throw a good punch thanks to Matt, and the “punch”(haha no pun intended) of it is amplified by his powers. He fights with his own style, using dodging and snarky remarks often to tire out the enemy/make them mad then take them out. He uses the small things to his advantage, and is very quick on his feet. He uses his wit in every fight, in order to give him a better chance to win/get out of the fight alive. Appearance: (See above. Civilian clothing will be drawn later.)

Accessories: - He wears gloves that cut off at the knuckle closest to the fingernail, and they’d normally go to just below his shoulder but he rolls them down for convince purposes. The gloves are padded on the inside, and act as arm guards, an essential thing for archers to have. - His goggles help him in multiple ways. From protecting his eyes, helping him see(both because he needs glasses and because they give him night vision), to locating targets and pinpointing their weak spots. Personality: Nathan is super competitive, though not always very forward about it. In a fight he can hold well on his own, but would usually prefer to have backup, mainly someone he can trust and knows will be able to take care of themselves. This is useful for the times when he sometimes bites off more than he can chew. In battle he’ll often snack talk to stall for time to come up with a strategy, and often uses the opponents rage against them. He can mask his emotions well, but doesn’t really like to unless it’s to help the team out or something like that(For example- acting confident when he’s scared enough to puke to give his other teammates confidence and hope, cracking a joke to lighten the mood even if he doesn’t wanna say anything, etc). He’s not the most open person out there, but generally if you ask something he’ll tell it if he knows the person well enough. He’s pretty good at coming up with solutions on the spot, but not as good at sticking to a set and timely plan. He values brains over brawn, and that’s how he’s gotten through life. He’s learned to never underestimate anybody and how to use humor as both a coping and defense mechanism. Backstory: Nath grew up with his parents, two older brothers, and his dog, Collie, in Northern Michigan, on a beach town connected to Lake Michigan. He would always roughhouse with his two older brothers, but being the youngest and smallest he was always the wimpiest of the three. So instead of using brute force and power, he was forced to make do with his natural speed and acquired wit to hold his own against them(sometimes he’d get his dog to help him- but that’s totally not cheating ok!!). His life got turned around when his Dad got diagnosed with stage IIB colon cancer in the summer of when Nathan turned 13. The next few months were filled with hospital visits and helping his Dad make paper boats and planes from his bedside table, until finally, his dad’s condition started to get better. He was released with medication and was able to do everything again, which his childish dad took advantage of as soon as he was able to. Everything was going fine until winter Of when Nate was 15, when his dad’s condition suddenly got bad. He was bedridden pretty quickly, and the cycle of hospital visits started once again. But this time, only a month later, his condition greatly dropped and he passed away within a week. After this, Nate had a really rough streak. He stopped caring about school, and got in fights so often that he’s almost daily come home hiding black eyes or a split lip. This lasted for about a year and a half, when Nathan stopped fighting so much and such after a close near death experience. He had the realization that this wasn’t what his dad would want for him after that. Instead, he now threw himself into his schoolwork and the sport he had been playing on and off since he was 11, archery. He brought up his grades and was able to graduate high school with good enough grades to make it into Ohio state. And this is where he is today.

Extra: - His greatest fear is losing the ones he loves, especially due to some mistake on his part - Dog person - Loves storms, always has - He loves swimming, and knows how to handle jet-skis like another limb - He still has some of the paper airplanes and boats he and his dad made and wrote on from his dad’s first hospital stay - His dad’s death does not haunt him, and he’s come to terms with it. He’s moved past it, but still gets kinda sad and sentimental when talking about him - He’s p strong in his arms, due to archery - He’s more fast than strong

#cybertube #cybertube Oc #Nate #Nathan dushlan

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