#S / IC ANSWERS

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

probably will be FORCED by Pomp And Circumstance to go to the CLOWN HOSPITAL, for a CLOWN INJURY (may or may not be An ALLEGEDLY Fractured Foot...a MOURNFUL MALADY incurred in the most PATHETIC and LAPSIDAISICAL Fashion of TRAGICALLY UNFASHIONABLY Events......

Anyway. Forgot what I was saying. Buy me 1/25th of an x-ray or whatnot I guess

[hermidetta]

there has been, for as long as they've known each other, a series of unspoken rules: to have each other's backs, to lift one another up, and to share in the heartbreaks wrought by the shards of girlhood that left them scarred. a past not so easily escapable for either of them — not with the constant reminders found at their doorsteps and in their reflections. yet, there is some solace, dorothea hopes, in knowing the other is but a door away should those dark and terrible memories awaken.

today will only be marked by good ones, if she has any say in the matter. so, preparations begin at dawn, and only the birds and the occasional knight catch sight of one lone songstress flitting from her room and back, arms full with baskets and rolls of fabric one moment, empty the next. the cycle repeats once more. boxes and trinkets, packages of various shapes and sizes, and to the rare passerby, she offers no explanation beyond a simple smile in greeting.

it's a special day.

there is no booting the girl of the hour from her room when the time comes. once let in, dorothea simply instructs bernadetta (and mr. bearkley) to close their eyes. "it'll be worth it," she promises. "i'll be quick." and so, the transformation begins. festive fabrics — soft sheens of lilacs and baby blues — are draped across the walls. three new stuffed animals are placed on her desk, seated around a small cake decorated with pastel-colored sprigs of flowers. a new mannequin, assembled and shoved into the corner with some effort, is placed next to where that trusty sewing kit is stowed.

finally, she carefully places the last gift in her friend's hands: a thick, leather-bound journal with the following inscription carefully etched into its cover in cursive:

happy birthday to my bern. your stories will take the world by storm one day.

"you can open your eyes now," she says, heart full and nearly bursting. "i decided to bring the party to you. i hope that's okay." dorothea sinks next to her on the bed and gently bumps the other's shoulder with her own. "happy birthday, bern-bear. i may have accidentally scuffed your floorboards... but you'll find it in your heart to forgive me, right?"

⠀ ⚘ birthdaydetta 2k24 ♡ ⠀

here is what he grumbles, already disgruntled by the gender, when they lift his newborn from the glowing mechanism: "a minor crest. i suppose it's better than nothing."

bernadetta cannot remember the last time she had been afforded a birthday party. it is understandable. her mother has toiled away in the capital for as bernadetta can remember, but every year she sends a letter that should, with luck, make it to her daughter within that same week.

her father usually buys himself a gift. a teaset for her twelfth that began all her training. an itchy dress and veil for her sixteenth that obscured her face with tulle because tulle was the socially acceptable alternative to a bag. nobody would want her without a bag.

"at least you're young enough to make up for your face, but even that's got a shelf life. you'd better shape up quick to be a desirable, obedient wife. there's a neighboring duke wants to replace his late one before his fiftieth birthday. you'll meet in a month's time."

(the story goes that this lesser duke saw a bare ankle and died of cardiac arrest. whatever the case, bernadetta had breathed the biggest sigh of relief. but there were more after him, of course. always more. somehow the country had no shortage of men who needed women while those men framed it the other way around.)

bernadetta has never loved herself enough to craft a real future in her head. she fears pain, but little else ought be expected from any sensible human, and in terms of the long term she would much rather vanish. she is unlike dorothea in countless ways—including here—that dorothea would elevate bernadetta in regardless.

all including here. because bernadetta opens her eyes to a future she should have anticipated as a girl, a future she should have believed to be within reach. bernadetta opens her eyes to dorothea. to sweets, to decorations, to gifts. to merriment, as if her having been born was ever worth celebration.

"dorothea..."

dorothea makes her want to believe again. in that moment her voice is tiny, wobbly, and so very afraid. afraid of her parents. afraid of the people who should have sent their wishes first. because what if they try to hurt you? bernadetta had asked dorothea once upon a time. what if they ever tried to harm her best friend now like her first one then?

the first few teardrops splash onto the leather cover, just short of the inscription. she startles and jolts to dab the spot with her sleeve, timid gasp torn from trembling lips.

"i-i'm okay!"  bernadetta blurts out her hasty disclaimer before dorothea can fret too much.  "i'm okay! it's— it's not you. or this. i like all of this. thank you for all of this! it's..."

with all of the care in the world, bernadetta sets aside the journal. she tries not to let her watery gaze catch again on the mannequin, or the cake, or the stuffies before she turns to dorothea and practically tackles her in an embrace.

"i'm happy,"  she weeps into dorothea's shoulder. in a smaller hiccup she echoes the words as if she cannot believe the veracity of them. i'm happy.

is this allowed? she is happy without permission. it is terrifying, monumental and exhilarating all at once—just like what she shares with dorothea.

bernadetta's arms tighten around her. a writer is supposed to weave great words, but what to say that could ever be enough? thank you? i love you? the floorboards aren't mine, anyway? it's always okay, you always make me feel okay?

as they sit together in that small, decorated room, mourning girlhood, celebrating each other, bernadetta only hopes her tight hug could convey all of it and more. to look into her heart and find room for forgiveness would be to cut it open and evict dorothea herself from it.

[jokerislandgirl32]

Lol I ice skated 2 days ago, looked like a baby deer on ice-

Violet V. Posting

Well if you looked like that:

Zach and I looked like this:

Us trying to ice skate is not a pretty picture 😂. In response to this post 😊.

[medkiitt]

" Will i get a mother? "

“ Huh? I... I don't know where I'd find the time or even the dedication to find you a mom. No, no... maybe I'll find someone one day. Maybe.. ”

[pharmanic]

"I stole some of your cigarettes... They're ass, by the way."

"You're lucky I'm a medic cuz im about to kick your aft so hard, when you wake up your paint is gonna be out of style."

[hom1lly]

TAGS .

[websriot]

@novaragno    ( f.    parking )    said :    ❛❛ you look half-starved. ❜❜

hobie scoffs.    that's what living in a fascist hell-state does to you,    he wants to say,    but he holds his tongue.    instead,    they turn    &    narrow their eyes at felicity.    ❛❛ ... yeah,    uh.    'm fine.    osborn's been crackin'    down on...    well,    everything.    says    's his war on crime.    so... ❜❜    a shrug.    it's not safe for him to show his face outside anymore,    let alone go to a store    &    buy something when there's a thousand    &    one venom agents stationed outside every building on his street.    they'd rather be starving than dead.    ❛❛ don't worry    'bout me,    alright?    'm alive.    'm still kickin'. ❜❜

[byanyan]

you look like you've pocket sanded someone before.

ㅤa coy little laugh is all they offer in response at first, playful mischief alight in their features.

ㅤㅤ" y'know what's even more effective than pocket sand? pocket glitter. think about how hard glitter is to get outta your clothes 'n off your skin, and then imagine what it's like gettin' it outta your eyes. "ㅤgrin stretches wide, shiteating and proud.ㅤ" adds a little insult t' injury too, which is always a bit'a extra fun if ya ask me. "

[frost-eyed-autumn]

a hatrack.

Recommend romantic candidates for my muses and see their reaction!

"At least a hat rack will always be where it's supposed to be and takes care of my things when I'm not holding onto them."

[pinky-in-blankets]

heyhey! for the ask game, can i get 🌈🍒🦢 for whisper? happy valentines! ^^/

((Thank you! i hope you have a happy Valentine's day as well ~!))

--- Valentine's day asks

---- 🌈 - how was your very first valentine's day with your f/o? if you haven't celebrated yet, how do you think it's going to go?

Whisper: " This marks the first Valentine's day I've spent with her.. it's mostly going to be a quiet and calm day.. which is a pleasant change of pace to how things are in nightstopia.. i enjoy our quiet times together." --- 🍒 - are you and your f/o the type to do sickly sweet romantic things on dates and valentine's day? what kind of things do you do together?

(Art by @/deadnymaster) { Whisper is one of my more quieter f/os- so we do little gentle dates. we went to a Deerpark once and they all started swarming him hehe. i guess despite being a nightmaren, he has a calming presence. } -----

🦢 - do you and your f/o have any cheesey nicknames for each other? what are they?

{He calls me 'Lilac' because of my purple Ideya. It's kinda cute how he always refers to me like that despite getting to know me better.}

[pridewaited]

some tag drops, i might change them up

also like this post if you want to have a relationship tag, i know it's been years since i've been here but i still remember my peeps

(some of you have no choice actually)

[quartzhearted]

[sunburns]

"Morion...kindly help me..." In the most soggy miserable cat face possible. He's red all over like a lobster. "I have to stay under the sunlight to watch the students but....I fear I am going to end up toasted at this rate. Please help me..."

ahh, summer!

the beach is a luxury morion does not know quite well yet. brodia's mountains and high elevation meant little time to experience the sea, so being out and around the salty ocean is more excitement than he can possibly comprehend in the moment. there's weird rocks here! there's Minerals!! THERE'S BURGERS!!!!!

there's friends as well, which is one of the more exciting bits---but when lambert comes to him almost glowing from how sunburnt he is, morion has to hold back a cross between a horrified gasp and a bark of laughter. "holy hell, brother, what happened to you?!" he ekes out in the noise's place. "dragons, it's like they set ya on fire!"

he sets down the bag he was carrying and starts pulling random 'just-in-case's he'd packed: a towel, some sunglasses, a rock, another towel. finally he grabs it---a bottle of soothing ointment! "good thing i brought some o' this. the people in the infirmary said it was good for burns, so i took some in case any of the students needed it."

popping the cap off, he squirts a generous amount on his hands before handing lambert the rest of the bottle. "i'll get yer back since it's hard to reach. you can handle the rest if ya want!"

[sonchiildren]

☆ anonymous ☆ — Does Chi-Chi know Goku is cheating on her with Vegeta

"What?! And he didn't think to share Vegeta with me? Rude."

"Joking aside, the fact you think Goku would cheat on me with someone else just goes to show how LITTLE you know my husband or even respect him. He is loyal to a fault and he would never do something like that."

The woman's hands settling on her hips as she glared daggers at the other in question. How DARE they insult her husband like that? Goku was not at all like that and it was disrespectful and horrible they even suggested it about him. Resisting the urge to get physical with them — even if that frying pan was looking very tempting to smack them upside the head with.

"Now, I must politely ask you to leave so get the HELL off my property this instant and leave my family the HELL alone or else."

[txmehunting]

It is a nice costume, Selena decides, disregarding the person wearing it. He is both familiar and not—because they had never met proper, but Selena feels as though she must’ve heard of him, somehow. (Perhaps he was a part of the Academy? Though certainly of another house–)

“Hello.” (She isn’t quite certain how to start the conversation, seeing as he seemed…)

(Well. Interesting, to say the least.)

A long pause before she vaguely waves towards some distant houses.

“Would you be interested in trick-or-treating with me?”

sennō finally has enough magic in him to restore the bits and pieces of his tattered costume. a brush of fingers over holes and rips; cloth mends itself on command, dents push out and away, restored by invisible hands. it is only partially illusion, but he knows precisely how to fix each piece. it is not difficult to do.

his costume no longer runs as ragged as his face does ( but he knows no faith spells to fix the damage ). he can go out and mill around without drawing too much attention; bruises are easily hidden under his thick kimono, anyways. he pulls in only a few eyes for the phantom-likeness of his outfit, but that is an amount sennō is used to. he moves from his corner, pleased that he no longer looks like the lead weight he feels.

a woman approaches him---a woman he does not know, to be more precise, which almost surprises him. the only people to talk to him were those who had already spoken with him before; to have a total stranger strike up conversation is unheard of. first time for everything, he supposes.

they stare at each other for a little while. he doesn't say much to her when she greets him, and it would seem she has nothing to say afterwards. sennō is the king of weird and awkward silences, so this does not faze him. when she finally points to some houses in the distance, however...

he's only got two of the required three. another couldn't hurt.

" if you are that much in need of a partner, " he huffs, fidgeting lightly with his newly-repaired hat, " then i have little choice in the matter. " he has plenty of choice. he just doesn't want to get stuck out without a third. " fine. let us be off. "

[archive-ask-alton-crow]

is there a snake in your boot

Is there a- what???

Phew... there is no snake in my boot. Was that s'posed to be one of yer toony jokes?

At least some of ya seem happy fer me ta be here.

[diivineray]

[WOUND]: after the Pei Ming has been wounded, Yang Jian tries to keep them calm and conscious by cupping their face in their hands and talking to them to keep them focused.

                 ⋆༺𓆩⚔️𓆪༻⋆ ―The general's vision blurred as waves of pain coursed through his body, making it difficult for him to piece together the events leading up to this critical moment. He vividly remembered putting himself in harm's way, taking the brunt of an explosive impact to shield someone from its devastating blast. As he lay there, unable to move or even lift his head, he couldn't shake the uncertainty about the well-being of the person he had tried to protect. In the midst of the agony, a haunting question lingered in his mind: was this the end for him? 

                 The deafening blast of the bomb still echoed in his ears, reverberating against the sturdy gold of his helmet. It felt as though the sound waves were causing his head to throb with intense pain. He attempted to assess the extent of his injuries by trying to move his muscles, but every attempt resulted in minimal progress. His entire body throbbed with pain as he struggled to shift, and the cumbersome weight of his armor only added to his discomfort.

                Pei Ming's eyelids drooped as a gentle wave of drowsiness washed over him, pulling at his consciousness like a soft hand guiding him toward an unknown destination. Despite the soothing touch, Pei Ming found himself resisting the pull, unwilling to succumb to its embrace. Pei Ming felt his legs giving out, and just as he thought he would fall, a warm pair of hands grasped his face, offering support && comfort. As the hand faded, he slowly opened his eyes. At first, everything was a blur to him, but gradually his vision adjusted, and the details of his surroundings came into focus. At that moment, a wave of relief washed over him as he realized they were okay. 

             The calming timbre of their voice washed over him, but beneath the soothing facade, he detected the unmistakable concern in their tone as they worked tirelessly to keep him conscious. Summoning every ounce of strength, he managed to lift his hand and gently place it over theirs, a feeble attempt to offer reassurance. ❝ Don't worry. . . this is nothing,❞ he strained to reassure them. Despite his uncertainty about the severity of his condition, he clung to the unwavering belief that this was not the end of his journey.