#Oh also archery

[rosetinted--clouds]

I'll never forgive Disney for the shite marketing they did with Brave

[queenlucythevaliant]

have you ever heard it? can you remember?

i. The gulls were crying. The gulls were always crying, in her memory. Whatever far off places Susan travelled after her family was gone, she always came back to the sea.

ii. The beach at Cair Paravel was the first place in Narnia where she really felt at home. She'd wade into the water with her eyes shut and feel she could be in England, on holiday with her mother and father. She'd open her eyes, and there would be waves cascading endlessly towards her.

iii. Before long, she knew every tidepool, every shoal.

iv. There weren't any bathing suits in Narnia, but no one seemed the least scandalized when Susan took to swimming in her underthings. There wasn't anything else for it, and she had to swim. She just had to.

v. She wasn't the only one of her siblings to love the sea, of course. Edmund loved sand and sailing and reading on the beach, and Peter liked to gaze out at the ocean and think. Lucy spent even more time at the beach than Susan did; she would rise before dawn and sit on the rocks as the sun rose over the waves. Susan was never sure whether her little sister was there to greet the sunrise, or to wait for Aslan.

vi. But for Susan, it was sense-memory. Water was water, wherever she was, and it always reminded her of home. She'd go out past the breakers, pull her limbs into a familiar breast stroke, and she'd feel like she was everywhere she loved all at once.

vii. Aslan came, and she was soaking wet to greet him. He laughed, in his lion-ish way, and didn't mind at all when Susan embraced him.

viii. Somehow, Aslan never got drenched from his journeys across the sea, but he was damp as though with mist. The scent of salt and brine clung to him, an overtone to that fierce, wild smell that was his own. Susan breathed in deep, those two scents she loved most in the world.

ix. In England, back at school, she'd go to the swimming pool and imagine she was in Narnia.

x. It wasn't the same, of course. The swimming pool at her school had no crying gulls, no smell of salt, no cascading waves. There was no Aslan coming towards her from the T-line at the other end of the pool. But if she submerged herself completely, Susan could imagine.

xi. She swam with her eyes shut too often, and her coach was growing irritated. It was affecting her times in practice, which would bleed over into competition if she wasn't careful. Somehow, Susan couldn't be bothered to care.

xii. One weekend, she and Lucy snuck away to visit the boys, and they all went down to the lake to reminisce about Narnia. When Lucy and Edmund spoke of their summer sailing the eastern sea, Susan was positively stiff with jealousy. Yet when they all dove into the water in the end, her heart pounded out a rhythm of home, home.

xiii. Six years after her last trip to Narnia, Susan hadn't touched a bow in four years. She still went swimming every week.

xiv. After the railway accident, she went to live by the sea. She missed her family, and she couldn't stand to live in the places they had lived. She wanted to forget.

xv. Susan had missed the salt air. She had missed the waves. There was a feeling of home by the sea that she couldn't quite place; a soothing echo of long ago dreams and fairytales.

xvi. But there were the gulls crying, "Can you remember?" and it broke her heart all over again.

[faaun]

last night i got home kind of tipsy and very much in tears and my mother told me the force you exert to keep someone in your life is proportional to the force with which they will leave your life. if you have to fight tooth and claw to keep them, their leaving will be just as hard, just as harsh, and just as definite.

[gingermintpepper]

“Your hair’s gotten longer.” 

It’s conscious effort that keeps him from tucking the strands behind his ear, from taking the knife at his hip and shearing it all off. He keeps his stance focused, attentive, there’s little else he can do when he’s taken so completely after his mother when it comes to his hair. His father scratches his chin, the clouds of his beard snaking about his finger like mist parting for mountain-peaks. Ares’ chin is still child-smooth. He can feel the tickle of his over-long fringe against his soft jaw. There’s no heart in his chest, but still he feels as though a pulse is lodged in his throat. 

Father sighs, put-upon, disappointed, and Ares feels a slight tremor start in his calves from holding himself so tense. “Well done, Ares. Go clean yourself up and get some rest. Phoebus will want to look you over later.” 

He should be ecstatic to be praised by his father. Over-the-moon with joy. There should be pride emanating from every pore of his body, the blood on his skin should be sweeter than ambrosia. 

Instead, he bows, manages a soft ‘thank you, Father’ around the lump in his throat and immediately flees the room. A mild ‘make sure to trim your hair’ hits the back of his head like a spear through the skull. He almost wishes the great door had slammed on his foot so he would have reason to feel this horrid in his retreat.  

Phoebus Apollo is waiting for him in his infirmary. 

He’s gilded as ever, gold from crown to heel. Perfect like the statues they carve of him in his temples. He has a smile for Ares when he sees him, a crinkle at the edges of his pretty eyes from the weight of his joy. Ares is waiting to see the crack in the marble, to see if that’s the chip that’ll reveal his fangs.

“Brother,” he greets, and his voice is warm - like the arms that embrace him, his voice is so warm, “Welcome back. I’ve heard you’ve done well.”  

There’s a tremble in Ares’ fingers he hadn’t noticed before. Strain from carrying his sword for so many days, a throb from wounds he hadn’t noticed he’d accrued. “Heard? There’s already gossip?” 

Phoebus blinks, disarming, demure, coquettish, “But of course,” and Phoebus’ voice is honey to Ares’ gravel, the juxtaposition is grating on his skin, “It’s Olympus. The gossip began long before you set your course.” Those warm hands lead him further into the room, bodily sits him on the chaise, pulls his helmet from his head. It’s all one, unbroken motion, “It’s summer alas, so I could not watch your war myself, but I hear it was quite the decisive victory.” 

A thousand thoughts run on horseback through his mind then. 

Did Father overhear some terrible slander that pre-emptively disappointed him? Was Ares’ victory merely a rumour, a bet his father hadn’t bothered to take? Was the gossip more enticing than the stark truth? That Ares wasn’t some child toddling about in the shadow of his sister, that his sword and spear weren’t merely for show - he’d think such a thing would warrant celebration. Not -

“Oh my,” Phoebus is in front of him, pleasant warmth more sticky heat with how close he’s pressed himself into Ares’ space. From this angle, Ares can see the multi-coloured flecks of his eyes, like shards of golden glass suspended in ichor. From this angle, with his hand so gently holding his hair, were Ares to blink too hard, he’d swear Phoebus looked just like his mother. “Your hair’s grown long again.” 

He pushes Phoebus off with such force that he bangs into the wall. It’s Phoebus, it won’t make even the impression of a scratch on him, but Ares wishes it would. Wishes he’d hit his shoulder or crack his neck or hit his head just hard enough for all that perfect, gilded gold to bleed. 

“I’m only here for you to heal me,” the tremble in his hand extends to his shoulder now. He flexes and unflexes his palm. Gods what he would give to just have a sword - “Don’t waste time with the pleasant-work.” 

Phoebus huffs, adjusts the fit of his himation, “...Only because we’re meant to be celebrating your victory.” He crosses the room in two great strides, his hair a swirling tempest behind him as he gathers his poultices and wraps. “The only reason I’ll not throw you from the window is because we are meant to be celebrating your victory.”  

There’s not enough acid in his tone for this to truly be a fight. Ares’ jaw clenches, he bites out a terse, “How benevolent.” 

“Aren’t I?” He’s got nectar and his sutures in hand, that focused look falling upon his face when he switches from overbearing busybody to Paeon of the Gods. “Now strip unfaltering Ares, let us see the measure of damage done to your indomitable flesh.” 

(Somewhere between the fifth set of stitches and the gentle frown that crosses Phoebus’ face when he notices the persistent tremble in his fingers, Ares pins his eyes to the far wall and asks, “What does it mean when Father says ‘well done’?” 

Any other sibling would mock before they gave a true response. Any other sibling would laugh and dismiss it, would say that praise is praise and any lingering ill feeling is just the worst of the war still fogging his mind. Phoebus does not answer immediately. He doesn’t make a single sound. The question settles like fetid water between them, unignorable, the scent right there on the tip of the tongue yet firmly unacknowledged. Ares closes his eyes and tries again to settle his squirming so he does not interfere with Phoebus’ work.  The metallic snip of scissors cutting thread breaks the silence. Phoebus bids him to sit up and slides his warm palms up his back until his fingers tangle gently in the ends of his hair. He twists the dark red strands until he’s gathered it all into a neat handful, holding it loosely as he switches his scissors for his shearing blade. “You should know it was not praise,” Phoebus says softly. The first of Ares cut hairs fall like viscera from his head. Phoebus treats each cutting with the sacredness of a blood-sacrifice. If he focused on the moment of tension right before the blade cuts though, Ares thinks he can imagine the agony of his sister’s sacred birth. “It is acknowledgement. Father thinks you’ve done well so he says ‘well done’.”

Gently, Phoebus releases him. Ruffles his head so all the extra hairs fall like red rain to the floor. Ares runs his fingers through the ends now curling against his ear. “Has he ever told you ‘well done’?” 

A laugh, warm and gilded, “No, and it would not make you feel better if he had.” 

Ares swallows down a thousand different questions. Phoebus wouldn’t answer them, he’s infuriating like that. Instead, he clenches his teeth, the phantom of Father’s dizzying tangle of grey cloud-hairs persistent in the corner of his eyes. “Cut it shorter.”

Phoebus doesn’t protest. He never seems to say a word when it really matters.)

[moeblob]

Sorry I forgot Hanneman suggested Byleth undress after they show up with a different hair color. And I miss Hanneman. And also while swapping between Houses and Hopes and seeing Hanneman pop up to help in a Hopes paralogue is just devastating since he doesn't ever actually join you at all and I am denied my old man rights.

So I had to draw this. Thank you for understanding.

[hanakihan]

Listen y’all I just woke up and had the most cracked yet self explanatory headcanon

Goto Ryuji and Lim Tae-Gyu are relatives, and even so are either brothers or cousins separated at early childhood.

That’s literally coming from me mistaking them first time I read SL BUT BEAR WITH ME OKAY I HAVE GOLDFISH MEMORY SPAWN

ANYWAY

Consider them both being born in Japan, and after boys were born their parents broke their marriage and while Ryuji stayed with his father in Japan, mother took Fuuka (aka future Tae-Gyu) with her to South Korea for her new future husband. Since she married into new family, she changed her name as well as Fuuka’s hence Lim Tae-Gyu appeared.

Years roll by and it’s first proper meeting with Japanese S ranks, Tae-Gyu knows what they all are saying without translator because for some reason his mother knew Japanese perfectly for some reason and was hell bent on him also knowing it as second language also for some reason, but he never bothered to inform anyone.

And then Goto Ryuji himself enters the scene, and oh suddenly it becomes too quiet as everyone just stare at two men with uncanny levels of resemblance.

Tae-Gyu is just confused why everyone is suddenly so quiet and staring, and he’s especially unnerved by Ryuji’s really intense stare that has usual levels of threat in it but also searching, almost painfully hopeful.

Apparently Ryuji knows he had a brother because he remembers him vaguely and his father always told about him. Tae-Gyu has no proper memories of his early childhood and his mother never really spoke about her previous marriage either, only small specks of Japanese here and there which confused Tae-Gyu.

All Ryuji says after a really long uncomfortable silence is

‘Fuuka’

and Tae-Gyu instantly tenses, starting to glare at Ryuji in return because only his mother ever called him this name at home and it was so precious and personal it IS offending to hear it from a complete stranger even if it’s said with equal undertones of shared understanding and intimacy.

‘Fuuka, did mother allow you to keep Kiryu?’

And oh, that one was a low blow for Tae-Guy because Kiryu - a really old, clearly clumsily child-made plush dragon toy was one of the few things he had from his early childhood and was really attached to, for some reason. He deduced it was probably a gift from someone really important to him back then, because no matter what mother always made sure it’s taken care of and he always had a childish sentiment for it.

‘… How— How do you know about this—‘

And oh, he didn’t even notice slipping to perfect, not accented Japanese. Honestly? He doesn’t care at the moment, because fearsome Goto Ryuji knowing your other name and about your childhood plushie is disturbing.

Lim Tae-Gyu né Goto Fuuka, is confused and disturbed and angry but also terrified and somewhat hopeful. He doesn’t know why man before him knows such important, personal details no one knows, and it scares him.

Goto Ryuji is conflicted, both happy and disturbed. Here, before him, stands his long lost brother whom his mother took away to different county and wasn’t heard of ever since. There’s such a giant void between them, and Ryuji doesn’t know how to cross it and mend relationship with his brother without appearing like a creep with absolutely unbelievable story.

Everyone on side silently watch two stone faced men, who look almost like a mirror reflection, have a silent inner mental breakdown.

[elliebell77]

deam :)

[citriarchive]

i think nithvinn should go on archery dates. what au is this intended for? yes.

[ethioirhab]

i love having activities and people dragging me out of rhe house sometimes thank you model un team 🙏🏼

[floralovebot]

i want to winx clubify the fab five so bad but i'm honestly not sure what their powers would be,, like i have vague designs floating in my head mostly based on the silver age looks but like,,, AAAGGGHHHHH

[lolacouldnotcareless]

Rules: bold the ones that are true and tag some friends

tagged by @zeesqueere, tagging @ivy-lavender, @tootiredtoosadtooangry, @hyperbolicgrinch, @myriad-of-colors, @papangphromphiriya, @ambivartence, @avizou and whoever else wants to. tis not an obligation either

Appearance

i’m over 5’5” // i wear glasses/contacts // i have blonde hair // i prefer loose clothing to tight clothing // i have one or more piercings // i have at least one tattoo // i have blue eyes // i have dyed or highlighted my hair // i have gotten plastic surgery // i have or had braces // i sunburn easily // i have freckles // i paint my nails // i typically wear make-up // i don’t often smile // i am [most of the time] pleased with how i look // i prefer nike to adidas // i wear baseball hats backwards

Hobbies and talents

i play a sport // i can play an instrument // i am artistic // i know more than one language // i have won a trophy in some sort of competition // i can cook or bake without a recipe // i know how to swim // i enjoy writing // i can do origami // i prefer movies to tv shows // i can execute a perfect somersault // i enjoy singing // i could survive in the wild on my own // i have read a new book series this year // i enjoy spending time with friends // i [usually] travel during school or work breaks // i can do a handstand

Relationships

i am in a romantic relationship // i have been single for over a year // i have a crush // i have a best friend i have known for ten years // my parents are together // i have dated my best friend // i am adopted // my crush has confessed to me // i have a long distance relationship // i am an only child // i give advice to my friends // i have made an online friend // i met up with someone i have met online

Aesthetic

i have heard the ocean in a conch shell // i have watched the sun rise // i enjoy rainy days // i have slept under the stars // i meditate outside // the sound of chirping calms me // i enjoy the smell of the beach // i know what snow tastes like // i listen to music to fall asleep // i enjoy thunderstorms // i enjoy cloud watching // i have attended a bonfire // i pay close attention to colours // i find mystery in the ocean // i enjoy hiking on nature paths // autumn is my favourite season

Miscellaneous

i can fall asleep in a moving vehicle // i am the [designated by my own friend's parents] mom friend // i live by a certain quote // i like the smell of sharpies // i am involved in extracurricular activities // i enjoy Mexican food // i can drive a stick-shift // i believe in true love // i make up scenarios to fall asleep // i sing in the shower // i wish i lived in a video game // i have a canopy above my bed // i am multiracial // i am a redhead // i own at least three dogs

[lloydfrontera]

the webtoon may have left out a lot of things but they did yassify the orcs which is the funniest thing to me right now

*sigh* they did yassify the orcs <3

now i want to see what they'll do with the sirens and whether i should be excited or worried lmao

[talesofsymphoniac]

So I'm speedrunning Utena again to see how I feel about the "Shadow Girls are Anthy's Projections" concept, and instead I'm thinking about how Chu-chu spends a lot of time hanging out with Utena without Anthy.

Like at first he's with Anthy all the time but you start having Utena take care of him when Anthy's not even there-- obviously Chu-chu stays behind when Anthy visits Akio but also things like Utena taking him for a walk at night because she's taking care of him.

And this is based on vibes only but it's always seemed to me that Chu-chu does not necessarily play the same manipulation games that Anthy does. He's not luring Utena out or purposefully distracting her, imo. He's just. Anthy's friend. Her first one.

[the-halfling-prince]

Designed a dress I want to make heavily inspired by Merida from brave and then I decided to draw it on Merida.

The original sketch:

[katierosefun]

nate is a child of nemesis and sophie is a child of aphrodite and parker is a child of hermes and hardison is a child of haphaestus and eliot is a child of apollo and no i will not be elaborating on this one you just need to trust me

[wellenklavier]

auughh i want to do too many things theres not enough hours in the day or dollars in my bank account