#Sometimes you just have to laugh at your own writing and then be woefully embarrassed two seconds later 😂

[jamietwat]

follow up question: do you like or dislike re-reading your own writing? personally for some reason i hate reading my finished stuff (sadly i have to so i can edit) so i'm curious if this is a common experience or just me

I find it depends on what mood my brain is in. Sometimes it’s like no I hate his I won’t, but I also find a lot of the time I’m like ugh I don’t want to reread my own writing and see all the shit I don’t like about it and all the mistakes I didn’t catch and things I could have executed better but then I’ll randomly get motivated to when I get a comment that says something detailed about old writing or old chapters and I’m like oh yeah and then feel like rereading that and go down a rabbit hole. And then sometimes when I feel like I need to reread for memory’s sake it’s a disaster

But overall, rereading writing is usually way better of an experience than I’m expecting and I’m like oh maybe I don’t hate this and I don’t need to be as embarrassed about it

Quite often when I start a reread I’m expecting to cringe through the whole thing (and I still do at some mistakes and parts but not all of it) but overall I just get invested in rereading my own fic like wow this is exactly my interests (no shit) and exactly my sense of humour (also no shit) and find it easier than reading not my writing focus wise because I already know it and then I get distracted and reread a whole big long thing and then end up like oh shit I want more but for that to happen I have to write it. But it’s also a great motivator to get back to writing when the reread does go that way and gets my brain thinking about the right part of it instead of later than where I should be writing scenes

But then also I don’t think there’s anything weird about not liking rereading your own writing. I know lots of people hate rereading their stuff because they focus on all the stuff they find to be negatives and not the positives. And that certainly has stopped me from rereading things many times even if I ended up rereading later and enjoying myself

Then again, my older writing is more likely to be painful and not enjoyable and have contradicting shit and excessively cringy shit worse than current writing so there’s something to be said for practice and focusing on the improvement from what you were expecting from when you started instead of just focusing on oh this part sounds weird, oh why did I do this, etc.

Oh and also I HATE rereading for editing purposes. That part of writing a chapter is a nightmare and makes me hate my own writing I’ve spent hours on so I get that part for sure

[noonmutter]

Introductions

Daily Writing Challenge 2021 Day 12: Ball/Gravestone

"It's gonna be a quiet meetin'. They're not...th' most talkative people, these days."

"No, I know, love, of course. I absolutely still want to do this. You're so brave for this and I'm so proud of you."

Leon couldn't hold in a chuckle at that. Valarin's open, whole-hearted support of him for what was, admittedly, a trip that Leon had made dozens of times by now was all but impossible to ignore. The reassurance wasn’t necessary, but he wasn’t about to ruin Val’s fun. He simply set a hand on his wee love's shoulder to momentarily silence him, and bent to kiss his forehead.

"Thank you, love. It's okay. I'm not gonna collapse, it's just...a li'l tense, sometimes. Bringin' somebody new..." He let himself trail off as he inspected the kit they'd brought with them. Valarin had brought the supplies for their lunch, and he'd brought a bag of gardening tools, along with a couple bouquets of marigolds at Val's insistence. Asking about the marigolds had opened up the floodgates, not that he minded; listening to Valarin get himself going about something he was passionate about was one of Leon’s favorite things.

"The marigolds are traditionally very important! You see, the land of the living can be confusing and difficult to navigate for spirits. We try to help them by providing strong sensory things to guide them. The marigolds have a strong smell, but I think their color is quite strong too! And the candles are a little lighthouse..."

The flowers had been a bit of a trick to avoid crushing once they'd left the road that would've led them across the border into Stranglethorn, but they'd managed. He still wasn't sure if mum and dad would actually like the marigolds, but he understood the importance of it being this specific kind of flower, now. It was both like and unlike the little ceremonies the Gilnean was familiar with.

"This is such a lovely area, too. I’m honestly so excited to see where your parents rest. I’ve not really seen many human gravesites. I’m interested to see how similar they are. I’d like to learn about Gilnean customs regarding it. I know that the Day of the Dead is more widespread now, so I’m sure your parents will enjoy the offerings all the same. And--Hey, are you doing okay? You’ve been a little quiet."

Leon paused, then gave a short shake of his head. "Just tryna make sure we don't get lost, hey?" It was a lame excuse for letting his mind wander, but Val let it pass, since they were tromping through an awful lot of dense foliage. Valarin was aware there was a moonwell not all that far from where they wandered, and though there was a ceasefire, it was still Alliance territory and he was still visibly not a night elf. The tension wasn't really there like it'd been during their trip to Aerie Peak, though; they were alone and nowhere near a proper settlement.

He almost asked another question before Leon stopped, pointed at a small cluster of bright purple blooms hugging the forest floor, and said, "We're 'ere." It was hard not to get excited all over again, but he wanted to be respectful of Leon's feelings, so he kept himself from squeaking and simply gave Leon his best 'I'm here for you' smile. Leon answered it with another kiss on his forehead. Val liked those kisses, even if they were usually Leon filling in a silence when he couldn't figure out what to say.

He watched Leon pull a ton of vines and push a ton of branches aside like a very sturdy set of curtains, and after a moment, rushed to assist. Together, they opened up a relatively worn footpath to a small clearing. Val couldn't help but gasp softly at the sight; it seemed like every square inch of the ground was covered in lilacs! Little purple flowers were everywhere, and the scent was almost overwhelming. Butterflies fluttered from blossom to blossom in every direction, and small clouds of them seemed to erupt every time he or Leon took a step. He found himself tiptoeing to try and avoid crushing anything almost immediately.

"Oh, Light, it's absolutely beautiful, Leon. You did this?" The thought was enough to bring tears to his eyes, but he tried not to let it, at least not yet. He knew he'd do plenty of crying before the day was out and he'd really rather not start again so soon. It was a little embarrassing, even if Leon said it wasn't. Just focus on not snagging your pants on anything, Valarin…

"Well, I mean, th' flowers did it on their own, mostly... flowers do tha'..." Leon looked sheepish as he deflected praise, "All I did was plant a couple an' leave 'em be. Lilacs 're 'ardy, easy thin's. Part o' why mum liked 'em so much." The Gilnean made his way carefully but quickly through the dense growth, well used to the path he took and not worrying overmuch about whether he was stomping flowers or butterflies; the flowers were going to be cut back anyway, and the butterflies were quicker than he was. Reaching the apparent edge of the clearing, Leon bent to set his hand on a particularly tall lilac bush, then abruptly tore away a few branches to reveal the carved wooden grave marker underneath it.

It was not a professional job, this marker, but it had definitely been a work of diligence and a high degree of effort. It was sanded down to a nearly glasslike smoothness, and it would probably shine like it once it was cleaned up. The uneven top edge of it suggested it had originally been a chunk of driftwood, but it’d been stained so dark that it was hard to be sure. Valarin was privately glad he’d gotten better at reading Common lettering; hand-carved stuff like this was a little tricky. “Bettany Marie Ambroce” caught a bit of light and practically glowed. 

“Right. ‘Ere we are, then.”

“Oh, Leon,” Valarin said, “This is so lovely. This is your mother?” He knelt down beside the wood and brushed his fingertips over the lettering. “Hello, Missus Ambroce. I’m happy to meet you.”

“Yeah.” Leon didn’t really know how else to answer, but felt like that was woefully insufficient. “This’s mum.” Okay that was almost less helpful. He brushed his fingers along the lettering in much the same way Valarin had, mulling over a few things before he settled on a simple, “...You r’member Val’rin, right? I’ve talked about ‘im b’fore…” He risked a glance at his little love, offering a weak smile. “Only th’ good stuff, though. Promise.”

“It better have been!” Val flashed a playful grin and tossed his hair. “I am a perfect angel, after all.”

Chuckling, Leon set down the bag of tools and took out a pair of hedge trimmers, offering them to Valarin. “I’ll take care o’ th’ bigger messes, you clear out th’ stuff all over th’ ground, okay?”

“Wait, are we doing this entire clearing?”

“Course. Otherwise th’ lilacs’ll grow way too far an’ get completely outta control. It’s already bad enough cuz I waited longer’n I should’ve, I norm’ly come by ev’ry month or so.”

Valarin looked out across the small expanse of purple with a tiny bit less wonderment than he had the first time. This was a bit more work than he’d realized, but, he had to admit to himself, Leon had warned him. And he was bound and determined to help, regardless, so! Nothing for it but to roll up his sleeves and get to work. Leon had to restrain himself from grinning at the look of almost militant determination that Val got before he started clipping away.

“Cheer up, at least y’ don’t ‘ave t’ make it look pretty, too, hey?” He waggled his own pair of much smaller clippers, and gestured toward the high-piled bushes covering the pair of markers. “I’ll prune these down an’ then we’ll both tackle th’ rest of ‘em. It only takes about an hour if there’s two of us.”

“Isn’t this a bit much?”

“‘Ow d’you mean?”

“Well I’m going to end up killing most of these by cutting them back all…all willy-nilly, aren’t I?”

“Sure, but tha’s kinna th’ point. They can’t all keep growin’ or they’ll overtake more’n th’ forest kin afford, see? S’why I come back an’ clean it up at all. Can’t just plant whatever, wherever, or it throws th’ ‘ole balance outta whack. I’d be a worse druid than I already am if I just planted a bush an’ left it.”

“You are not a bad druid!”

Laughing, Leon pruned away, and Valarin attacked the rest of the lilacs with gusto.

Once they were roughly halfway through the clearing as a whole, Leon mercifully called for a break. Valarin was not at all accustomed to Leon in work mode, at least not like this; he knew the man could get lost in his leatherwork for hours, but that wasn’t quite so physically demanding as this. It was impressive, if a bit exhausting to keep up with.

They both sat down with a satisfied sigh, and Leon stretched his legs in the much more visible grass by the cleaned-up gravestones. Once properly polished, the lettering on both gleamed like it had been painted with gold:

Bettany Marie Ambroce Beloved wife and mother I’ll take it from here

Graeme Iain Ambroce Beloved husband and father I’ve got this

“Dad would’ve liked you, y’know.”

“You think so?” 

“Yeah. Anybody ‘o kin keep up with an Ambroce’s bullshit is worth keepin’ an eye on, somethin’ like that.” Leon chuckled with a subdued smile, thinking back on various times when he’d heard that. Naturally, Graeme had been talking about his own wife, but still. It had merit. “‘Especially th’ wee ones.’ Mum was about yer ‘eight, I think.”

Valarin’s ears went back just a little. “I’m not that wee.” After a moment, though, he let himself chuckle, too. “Although I suppose it’s still a compliment. You said he was a mountain, anyway.”

That made Leon laugh, and he threw his arms out wide. “Oh yeah, an absolute fuckin’ behemoth, was dad. ‘E wrestled with steer at th’ yearly fairs, sometimes, an’...”

As much as Leon enjoyed listening to Valarin give impromptu dissertations, Valarin loved listening to Leon tell stories of his family and his home. Knowing that he’d never get to see either of them the way his boyfriend did, he clung to every word to try his best to imagine it, and let the farmboy ramble as long as he was willing to. He only dared to interrupt long enough to break out their picnic, which thankfully didn’t stop the flood at all.

Once they’d eaten and Leon had run out of tales to tell--some of which Valarin was sure had to be at least exaggerated, if not totally made up, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out which ones--they’d gotten back to work. It was almost agony to start over again, since they’d had enough time for their hands to start hurting. That only seemed to spur them to get done quicker so that they were able to put the tools away after what felt like no time at all.

While Leon was raking the detritus into a corner of the clearing, Valarin set to work by the markers.

First, Valarin set up a small collapsible bed tray in front of the markers themselves, and covered it with a white cloth. He set out a few candles and arranged the marigolds all around what would become their ofrenda. Upon the tray he left portions of the favored foods they had brought; raspberry tarts, beef pasties, fried taters, all sorts of things. Though they had no pictures of the deceased--Leon couldn’t bring himself to risk losing the only image he had of his entire family--it was the thought that counted for this.

Obviously, Leon wanted to help, but he also didn’t want to do things wrong (despite Valarin’s many and constant reminders that there was no wrong way to arrange an ofrenda), so he hung back until it was almost finished. At Valarin’s urging, Leon took up a long match, and they each lit a candle at the same time, one for each parent. Finally, a small bundle of marigold petals was pressed into Leon’s hands, and he awkwardly scattered them in a rough line from the ofrenda to the graves themselves. Valarin had already made one out of the clearing itself, and with Leon’s contribution, there was a complete path.

When he returned to Val’s side, Val immediately curled both arms around his waist and tugged him down till they were both seated in the grass before the ofrenda. There, Val could finally get the cuddles he so cherished. Leon smiled softly and dragged the insistent thing into his lap, the better to hug him close and rest his chin on top of Val’s head. 

“So… what ‘appens now?”

“Now, you tell me more stories about them, and cuddle me, and I’ll tell you stories about mine, and cuddle you.”

“All night?”

“All night.”

“I think I kin do tha’.”

Though they couldn’t leave everything behind, the next morning, a pair of marigold-and-lilac wreaths hung from the wooden gravestones.

( @daily-writing-challenge​ @valarin-sunstorm​ )

[kireon]

Store Bought Hero

x-posted from my writing account as well as my author blog.

If natural heroes didn't work, store bought was fine too.

At least, that's what you keep telling yourself. It becomes a mantra as you peruse the discount racks at your favorite clothing store that definitely does not start with 'K'. Setting aside the whole ‘escaped from the lab you were created in’ thing, you haven’t noticed any serious differences between natural heroes and the lab created ones ('store bought', as they say) except for the whole income disparity thing.

Oh, and the sponsors.

Everyone knows natural heroes shopped at Gucci and their sidekicks at Macy's, bare minimum, they simply must be outfitted with the best at all times if they are to be known in the world. You can hear the professor from the labs’ rant clear as day even fifteen years later. While you definitely like a select group of brand name items? You have bills to pay, mouths to feed, and a gigantic fucking load of student loans on your back.

No rich parents, tragic enough backstory, or sponsors for you: a 'store bought'.

With a sigh, you eye a sequined leotard and run your hand up and down the rough fabric. There is something satisfying about the way the colors shift from a too shiny silver to a lurid cherry red. You like shiny. You like shiny an awful lot, as a matter of fact, and that's how you got yourself into this entire mess in the first place.

"How was I supposed to know the stupid anklet was his downfall?" You grumble as you tear yourself away from the sequined nightmare. Restraint isn’t something that comes easily but you’ve had years to practice. A half-hearted paw through the racks of clothing marked at sixty-percent off or more reveals a pair of dark red pleather pants that might just make a good costume base.

"It's not like I walk around with my weakness in plain sight."

It wasn't even a decent anklet either; not even sterling silver or real diamonds or brand name. It was a cheap nickel plated piece of flash and the rash it gave you still itched even a week later. Some sort of curse for the unwary, or so the hero had claimed when you'd given it back to him a day later.

You neglected to inform him of your nickel allergy during the confrontation.

Well, maybe not wisely. You might have been able to get some sort of financial compensation outta him for the damage done to your skin. The rash and blisters did look really awful when he’d caught up with you and he looked horrified when he saw the results.

Heroes had that whole ‘do innocents no harm’ thing, after all.

You'd rather die than admit to anything so common as a nickel allergy, so you accused him of having a curse put on it. He ate up the accusation and used it to his advantage, as they all do. In exchange for falling for the good old fashioned sob story that was your life-- lightly embellished, of course--you had to become his sidekick as penance for your (petty) crimes. Also to completely remove the effects of this nonexistent curse.

After all, you were in ‘dire need’ of a good role model, yadda yadda yadda. You’d stopped listening to his moral prattling about the same time he tried to invoke the ‘daddy issues’ card. The last time someone had pulled that shit on you, they woke up woozy, confused, and completely unaware of the clown makeup as they walked out (pantsless) into the busiest part of the city. Waterproof makeup at that.

Just as a little extra “fuck you” to prove a point; you don’t like doing more than petty retaliation if you can help it.

You can be quite nasty, after all.

In the end, Hero McDadguy puffed up in his usual self-importance and gave you an entire fifty bucks towards a ‘basic’ costume and sent you on your way with a time limit. He was currently busy getting some frothy concoction at that one coffee shop just around the block. Far enough away that it’s a test of trust and boundaries but close enough he can close the gap and probably haul your ass in if he needs to.

The added caveat that you weren’t to embarrass him with your costume choice makes you want to do it even more. The only thing holding you back is the fact that you do have to wear the costume. In public.

Petty and spite take a backseat to pride and self-preservation.

Not like he was one to talk. He had that whole ‘90s cyberpunk meets Dad-on-Tropical-Vacation’ theme going on. Fanny pack, socks with sandals... the works.  You’d rather go to jail than try to figure out how to replicate, keep in theme with, or otherwise find something to compliment that mess.

You mutter that very thing under your breath while you snag a few promising pieces-- and the leotard because fuck self-control you deserve something nice-- off the rack and head for the dressing room to start trying things on. Twenty minutes of posing in the mirror in varying outfit combinations later and you ignore the request for 'photo evidence' of you behaving and call your oldest child instead.  

“Hey, what’s the name of that one bird that steals shit?” You ask as you shimmy into a pair of leather shorts with sequins on the ass. You’re definitely about ten pounds shy of ‘Juicy’, as the flashy hot pink word on your butt says, but this could very well be the start of something amazing.

“Maybe you wanna be more specific unless you want me to read descriptions for the next ten years?”  

Nat is much like you; level-headed, brilliant in school but woefully under challenged, and has the same smart-mouth that had gotten you slapped through a wall once or fifteen times in your early life. You would never lay a hand on your kids regardless of how mouthy they get with you and so have to find other methods of curbing their attitudes when they get too out of line.

There’s a lot of yelling and someone sounds like they’re on the verge of tears in the background. A muffled Nat’s voice tells them to ‘calm the hell down, it’s fine’ before they come back on the line.

“What’s all that about?” You ask as you sift through the tops for something that would go with it. This opportunity might be a wash with how little luck you’re having. Might be time for Plan B- especially if there’s a problem with the kids. Your hand lands on a peacock blue-and-green number that doesn’t look bad but isn’t quite what you’re looking for. Ugh.

It’d clash with that highlighter orange from Mr. I Sweat Burberry Cologne.

Your middle child’s voice is loud and clear on the line now. “If you buy those shorts I am putting myself into the Child Relocation Program and you’ll never see me again.”

You consider it for a moment. Mortal embarrassment of your thirteen year old or being a slightly less fashion disaster than you feel. Tough decision, really. You feel yourself smile after letting Morgan sweat it out just long enough.

“Clean the kitchen and I’ll consider it.”

The quintessential teenage shriek of fury and angst comes loud and clear through the phone. “I knew you were going to say that! You’re the worst!”

Some parents prayed against having a child born with precognitive powers. While annoying to deal with, it’s also a lot of fun to use against them. It makes parenting interesting and more of a game to see just which future the kiddo wants to avoid- or get away with. “

You feel your smile widen at the range of futures said kiddo has likely foreseen. You’ll have so much fun with this particular set of visions and using it like baby photos against them. “So did you clean the kitchen?”

“Duh!” A most indignant tone.

You laugh. You can’t help it. “Put Nat back on the phone.”

“Promise me you’re not buying those first.” Stubborn and firm. A bit of desperation there too. Not quite ready to beg but not all that far off either.

The way they say ‘those’ makes you laugh all over again. “I’m not buyin’ ‘em, don’t worry.”

“And that weird guy isn’t buying them either?”

Damn it. “Nope. He won’t buy them either.” So much for that idea. Maybe you could-

“No stealing them either!”

Double damn it. “Fine, fine; the shorts stay in the store.”

“Thank you.”

The phone goes back to your oldest. “So, about that bird?”

“Jackdaw, Magpie, Corvids.” You hear scratching of pencil on paper. Homework? At, you check your phone, two-seventeen in the afternoon on a Saturday? Your eyes narrow suspiciously.

Who is it you’re talking to and what have they done with your child?

“Corvids? Like crows and shit?”

“Yup. And no, I’m not a body snatcher.”

A grin. “Sounds like something a body snatcher would say.”  

Jackdaw didn’t have that something you were looking for. Didn’t roll off the tongue the way it needed to in your head when you imagined some Big Bad Villain spotting you mid-villainous speech. Corvid didn’t either. Crow wasn’t hitting any notes either.

Raven was absolutely taken by no less than eighty-three variations in your city alone.

Rook had some fun possibilities if you had actually bothered playing and learning chess. (You can’t; you can’t sit still or pay enough attention for that shit and you own that.)

Your eyes fall on the silver-and-red sequined leotard again.

You hear your prophecy cursed child screech in despair in the background and the younger two who have gathered to watch the show tell them to shut up.

Nat, ever patient and ever your child, smiles on the other end of the phone. “I think that’s the one, Magpie.”

Magpie... yeah, you like the sound of that one. Magpie it is. “It’ll make a good base; is Morgan--”

“McFreakin’ Losing It? Yep.” You can hear the sounds of pencil scratching against paper again. Curiosity overrules any possible ‘do not need to know’ that you and Nat sometimes stumble into.

“Okay, I’ll bite; what are you doing?”

“Fulfilling the prophecy as foretold by the ancients long ago.” if Nat’s voice were any drier, they’d be dust in a forgotten tomb. “I’m designing the rest of your costume so you’re not a total train wreck and Morgan can die quietly.”

“You’re my favorite.” You say as you gleefully stuff the leotard-- you’ve tried it on twice and know it fits like a dream-- back on its hanger and wiggle out of the shorts. A wiggle that almost ends badly for you, at that, and you can hear the brats laughing at you in the background as Morgan probably mimics how you just about bit it in the dressing room.

“Remember that when I inevitably try your patience in all of forty-five seconds.” Nat hangs up on you and you feel nothing but pride in the way these sassy children have grown up under your less than skilled thumb. You’ve not been the best parent or even the best role model. It’s funny what unresolved childhood issues and bad habits will do, but damn it you have given it everything you have up to and including your favorite line of ‘do as I say not as I do’.

That is your right as a parent, goddamn it, to use that line and they can pry that right from your cold dead fingers.

They’re all good kids. They’re going to end up heroes in their own right with or without superpowers. That, above all else, is all you want for them so that they’re twice as capable as you’ve ever been in your life. Lab created and thus ‘store bought’ or natural born; it doesn’t matter and it never mattered to begin with.

Heroes are heroes in the end and the world could always use another helping hand as it spins through another chaotic cycle.

Your phone beeps and you glance at the text message.

Black thigh high socks. Get two pair. Amazon sucks for deals rn.\

U r not my fave >:(

You scowl and wish the walls would burn as you unfold the crumpled bills at the register. You don’t need Morgan’s gift of prophecy to know what that text message says and yet, like a fool, you look down at it anyway.

There’s a photo of all five of your grinning children holding up score cards. All of them holding 10s.

All of them dressed in Hawaiian shirts.

You have never felt so betrayed in your whole life.

[talesfromthefade]

(havesomedragonage)) Helllllo. I am SO in the mood for some dang shy kisses for DWC, for any character/pairing of your choice!!!

Marina Amell x Alistair Theirin, for @dadrunkwriting  Their first kiss, because these two are adorable and horrible/awkward at the same time about talking around their feelings, turning two totally competent adults into shy, joking, and blushing messes with each other. It was too cute not to write.

It’s a quiet moment. A rare thing amongst such a large collection of followers and with some of the more chatty members of their party. But Marina volunteered to refill their water supplies while the rest of their companions set up camp, and as usual, her fellow Grey Warden had accompanied her. It’s rather pretty here. Untouched by Darkspawn or the Taint, at least for now. A cool and gentle breeze rustling through the reeds and grasses along the bank to tickle at the hem of her robes.

She could wear something else, she supposes. More substantial armor of some sort. If not something like Alistair’s, which is almost certainly far too heavy for her, perhaps leathers like Zevran or Leliana. Except that she fights best from a range, supporting her fellows from a nearby higher-up position, and her rock armor spell is generally more than sufficient enough to fend off blows from any melee attacks during their usual encounters. She’d never actually thought to leave the tower that had been her home for most of her life, but she’s not ashamed of what she is. It seems foolish somehow to start now. So she wears robes that- in the grays and blues of the order’s colors- easily distinguish her as one gifted with magic with a certain level of pride. Alistair, despite his upbringing and training, whatever his initially jokes about being turned into a frog, or his turbulent relationship with their apostate companion, seems to accept this and take it all in stride as much as any other decision she makes.

Alistair’s understanding of magic, like a great many Templars, may be a bit over-simplistic, but he’s not afraid of her or what she can do. He respects and trusts her as an equal, at times even as his better, though Marina’s not altogether certain she deserves that much. And now that Wynne has joined them, it’s clear it’s not simply a matter of choosing to overlook or like her in-spite of her arcane gifts, but rather this is yet another thing to appreciate about her. And however sheltered life in the Circle may have been at times, Marina hasn’t failed to notice Alistair’s appreciation. It’s doubtful any of their companions have, though he’s been respectfully silent and clearly making an effort to be more subtle about it since their trip to the Tower.

Marina knows from speaking with him about his years under the Templar order Alistair never made it to the point in his training of receiving his first draught of Lyrium, but it's difficult to imagine him patrolling the various levels and rooms of the Circle. Of attending Harrowings...

“Alistair?”

“Yesssss,” Alistair replies with a slight grin as he stoppers another skin and places it on the bank beside them, turning his attention and gaze to her. Marina bites the inside of her lip, suddenly unsure about voicing the question that moments before had been on the tip of her tongue. “Sovereign for your thoughts,” he prompts gently with a chuckle.

“A sovereign?” Alistair shrugs, still smiling.

“Wynne said you were a star pupil. Your thoughts have got to be worth more than a couple of Bits.” Marina laughs softly, fighting the urge to blush.

“Wynne was being kind.”

“I don’t think so,” Alistair replies, shaking his head. “Well, I mean, she is. Sometimes. With the right people and when she wants to be. But, not about that. Duncan said as much too, that when he asked about recruits First-Enchanter Irving was sad to see you go, but couldn’t have spoken higher of you. And I’ve seen you. When we’re fighting, or just the little stuff- getting our fires started, the wards around camp… You’re great. I-” Alistair hesitates, scrunching his nose and brow in something between concentration and frustration. “Look, I don’t know much about magic, obviously. Or talking to people- or women… Raised by dogs, you know,” he chuckles softly with a sheepish sort of grin as the tips of his ears are beginning to go pink with embarrassment. “But I think you’re- yeah, I think you’re great. Fantastic.”

“Anybody ever tell you how handsome you are?” It’s not the question Marina had first thought to ask of him, but truthfully his compliments have so disarmed her, she’s loathe to bring up something potentially dark and ruin it all. Moments like this, like the rose still safely kept in a pouch at her waist, are all too fleeting. They none of them know how much time they have left, which day or battle might be their last. She and Alistair haven’t known one another for very long. This thing between them could be nothing, perhaps only the product of close proximity, the enormous amount of pressure and responsibility that has been thrust upon them, or needing someone to lean on, but it doesn’t feel like that. It feels like something more, or that it could be, and Marina has had her time to mourn old loves lost and things that were never meant to be. Perhaps she and Alistair aren’t either, but she’s done pretending she wouldn’t at least like to find out.

“Not unless they were asking me for a favor,” Alistair replies slowly. “Well, there was that one time in Denerim, but those women were… not like you,” the warrior adds, before quirking his head to offer her an appraising look. “Why? Is this your way of telling me you think I’m handsome?”

“And if it is? What then?”

“Oh nothing much,” he says, smile growing a little wider as he speaks. “I just get to grin a bit and look foolish for a while. So… is this the part where I get to say the same?”

“Not unless you don’t think so.”

“Oh, I think so. I’ll just spring it on you when it’s a surprise,” Alistair chuckles.

For a moment, Marina thinks of springing her own surprise on him, eyes lingering a little too long on his mouth as his laughter and the mere fact they can laugh, that they can find moments and happiness like this here and now amidst so much does something in her belly. It would be so easy to bridge the small space between them, to find his lips with hers, but something holds her back, if only for a moment. Uncertainty, not of the rightness of it, but her skill, her experience- or more accurately the lack thereof. Her fellow Warden has been obvious in his admiration, but slow in his pace, and Marina doesn’t want to screw this up.

“Alistair,” she ventures softly, worrying her lip. “If you were raised in the Chantry, have you never…”

“Never…? Never what? Had a good pair of shoes?”

“You know what I mean,” Marina mutters, feeling her cheeks turn red as she suddenly busies herself with avoiding his gaze for a moment to compose herself again.

“I’m not sure I do,” Alistair replies, and she can hear the smile in his voice. “Have I never seen a Basilisk. Ate a jellied ham? Have I never licked a lamppost in winter?”

“Now you’re just making fun of me.”

“Make fun of you, dear lady? Perish the thought. Well, tell me: have you ever licked a lamppost in winter?” There’s a slowness, a kind of teasing emphasis that he puts on the question, drawing out his ‘L’s that sees the blush returning to her cheeks once more following a warm and instinctive clench between her thighs even as he’s clearly once more making jokes to attempt to diffuse any sort of tension. Maker’s breath.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Marina mutters, shaking her head. “Have you ever slept with anyone before?”

“Oh, so that’s what we’re talking about. I admit I’ve never had a woman just… come out and ask me like this, that’s for sure.”

Flames, Marina thinks, blushing still harder, even in her attempts to be cautious she’s making a mess of it all. She’s a competent enough mage, certainly, but there are times now she’s living outside the Circle where it’s clear she’s woefully under-prepared for certain day to day, or means and topics conversations non-mages or Tower residents simply don’t have. “I, myself,” Alistair continues, taking her by surprise in choosing to answer her possibly too intrusive question anyway, “never had the pleasure. Not that I haven’t thought about it, of course, but… you know. Living in the Chantry is not exactly a life for rambunctious boys. They taught me to be a gentleman, especially in the presence of beautiful women such as yourself. That’s not so bad, is it?”

“Found a way to slip that in there sooner than I expected,” Marina smiles softly at the compliment.

“You don’t seem terribly surprised, though,” Alistair points out with a mock pout, earning a laugh. “Well, I don’t suppose you would be. It doesn’t seem possible you wouldn’t know it. You’re ravishing, resourceful, and all those other things you’d probably hurt me for not saying.”

“I would never hurt you, Alistair. Not if it could be helped.” Alistair’s goofy answering smile looks entirely pleased and certain as he nods.

“No, I don’t believe you would. Nor would I.”

“And no, to answer your earlier question,” Marina offers a bit shyly. “I don’t think that’s bad.”

“Good,” Alistair nods. “You’d want a gentleman to court you, wouldn’t you? If… if you were to be courted by someone, that is,” he adds hastily.

“I think I’d like that. With the right gentleman.”

“Ha, that’s good to know. Though, I wouldn’t really know how to go about it in practice,” Alistair admits in an uncharacteristic show of nerves and earnestness.

“Is that what this is,” Marina probes, slowly pushing the waterskins and buckets they’ve collected between them to the side. “Or, what you’d like it to be?”

“Maaaaayybeeee,” he hedges, chewing a little on his bottom lip.

“I’d like that,” Marina nods.

“Yes?”

“Yes,” she nods, smiling softly. Marina doesn’t hesitate any longer to act on the impulse that’s been in the back of her mind since they broke away from camp together, scooting forward until their knees are touching and reaching out to cup his jaw. He leans forward as she does until their lips find one another in a sweet and tender kiss.

[restlessmaknae]

Step by step [pt.5]

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7

Genre: fluff, comedy, romcom, haters to lovers

Main Characters: Park Chanyeol; Kang Yushin (OC); Kwon Soonyoung; Byun Baekhyun; Kim Jongdae; Do Kyungsoo

Setting: college AU; art college AU; dance class AU; college band AU

„We take a dance class together and our next routine calls for partnership, and we got put togeth−STop standing on my foot!” AU

“Are you crazy?” Soonyoung’s jaw dropped upon hearing the disastrous ending of our afternoon practice, his eyes hinting at his trying-so-hard-to-hide-but-definitely-failed amusement.

“Yah!” I not-so-gently smacked him in the chest but he just laughed it off. I wasn’t even strong, to begin with. “I think you are the crazy one for giving us such a task and for picking Chanyeol as my partner! FYI, if it weren’t for you, I would have stopped coming to the classes,” I made myself clear before he misunderstood my intentions. He probably assumed that I was fighting so hard because I actually liked the challenge of this pair work. However, he couldn’t have been more wrong.

“Who would leave me if they were in your shoes?” he wiggled his eyebrows and I seriously wanted to facepalm. Soonyoung was a nice guy but he could be a bit cocky sometimes.

“Please, come back to the ground before you get too carried away.”

“With pleasure, my dear,” he winked at me. “After all, you need the best relationship consultant in Seoul, aka me,” he pointed at himself, a wide grin making its way onto his radiating face. I looked at him with a deadpan expression but a moment later I heard a chuckle escaping my mouth. I subconsciously let myself laugh with him.

It honestly felt so refreshing like a hot shower after a pretty stressful day. Soonyoung knew perfectly well that I was going through a hard time but he always made sure to cheer me up and not let me sink into the hole of groom any longer. I was lucky to have a best friend like him, even though I wouldn’t admit it for the world. He would get even more supercilious.

“There isn’t any romance going on between me and Chanyeol, so you better keep your relationship advices for yourself.”

“I’m doing just fine with Yuju, so that’s why I’m willing to share my experiences with you,” he reminded me with the proudest smirk ever.

My best friend had been dating Choi Yuna (also known as Yuju) for three months now and every time he had a chance to boost with it, he took the opportunity to broch up his perfect love life. Despite the fact that I was the one who spilled the beans after Yuju had told one of her friends that she had a crush on Soonyoung, he seemed to forget that I was practically the reason why he manned up in the first place and confessed to her.

“I know you would probably get angry because I’m going to say this−“

“But I have to apologise for my behaviour,” I cut him off because I knew what he was going to say. Nevertheless, he was taken aback by my motion because usually, I was the one who was persistent until the very end and didn’t give in easily. Small wonder why he was dumbfounded upon hearing at my words.

“Wow, it seems that you’ve actually learned a bit from me,” he placed his hands on his chest in relief. I gently bumped his shoulders with my own and let him believe that it was all thanks to his advices.

Truthfully, it wasn’t. It was because of that damn hollowness in my chest that didn’t leave me (not even for a second) after our little quarrel the day before. It was because of the sight of Chanyeol’s sad puppy eyes that popped up in my mind every single time I closed my eyes. It was because of my beating heart that I couldn’t pacify whenever I saw someone who reminded me of him.

It was all because of that damn thing that my head kept on repeating like those annoying songs on the radio. I couldn’t continue living my life, knowing that Park Chanyeol thought that I was cold.

 Honestly, I wish I had a better way to apologise but I couldn’t find that drummer boy the whole day, so I ended up bumping into him in a music room, not knowing that I was interfering their band practice.

“Chanyeol, hey!” I gasped incredulously, thankful that I had finally found him and didn’t have to embarrass myself while holding up total strangers who I assumed were Chanyeol but it turned out that none of them were him.

He was alone (for the time being) in the music room when I opened the door and it seemed that my weary voice snapped him out of his fantasies. He looked woefully lonely while he tried to pierce a hole into the floor with his intense stare. It wasn’t until I moved closer to him and reluctantly tapped his shoulder that he finally looked up and noticed my presence.

“Oh, Yushin, hi!” he shook his head in an attempt to get rid of his (probably) unwanted thoughts. “I didn’t notice that you got here. I was deep in thought, I’m sorry,” he stuttered a bit nervously and I had a feeling that he didn’t want to see me.

To tell the truth, I wanted to evaporate right then and there but my desire to say sorry was stronger than my desire to run away.

“No problem,” I shrugged nonchalantly. I nervously started biting my lower lip when I realised that I hadn’t come up with a proper apology and I merely stood there, staring at him with my mouth open. I sucked at apologies, that’s certain. If there was an award for being the most helpless case when it came to excuses, it would definitely be given to me. Therefore, it came as no surprise that I didn’t find the right words to say. At that moment, I didn’t find any words to say.

“I don’t know if you know but we−“ he started hesitantly but I swiftly cut him off.

“I’m sorry for yesterday. Things are a bit hard for me right now but it’s not your fault. I just suck at handling my anger but it has nothing to do with you. I know I shouldn’t have said those things to you since I’m not a professional dancer either. I was rude, I know. I’m really sorry if I hurt you,” I said incredibly rapidly, so I had no idea if he was actually able to keep up with my words or only the last sentence made sense to him.

Anyway, I felt inexplicably relieved. The weight was finally lifted off of my chest and my heart was beating in excitement, not in fear like it did during the last less than 24 hours. I felt as my shoulders slumped at ease.

Huh, that wasn’t as bad as I had previously expected.

Chanyeol’s response was quick and simple; a childish giggle made its way past his lips and his previous absent-minded state suddenly dissolved into his characteristic joy.

“If you had spoken a bit slower, I would have understood a bit more, but never mind. I actually wanted to−“he started but was cut off by the creaking sound of the music room’s door.

I craned my neck to properly see our sudden visitors and came in sight with no other than the members of Kkaebsong. Jongdae and Baekhyun were racing to see who could get to their instruments faster while Kyungsoo quietly followed them. As soon as they stepped into the room, they stopped right away and a moment of awkward silence filled the air. I was left staring at the guys who were staring back at me, their eyes filled with both shock and curiosity. Little did I know that I should have left at this exact moment because after that, it was impossible to scamper away.

“Oh my holy cow, is that really Chanyeol with a girl?” Baekhyun blurted out so loudly that it was impossible not to hear. It didn’t seem to bother Jongdae either who immediately joined in and started gossiping like we weren’t even there.

“Finally, he took the hint and got himself a girl. I told you that it’s the best medicine for a song writer’s block,” he cooed happily, puffing his chest out in pride.

I stole a quick glance at Chanyeol who was just as baffled as me. He was probably surprised at the memorable entrance of his friends but I was more surprised because he had a writer’s block. Music students called him a real prodigy as he always wrote excellent songs and he always had something to work on, let it be assignment week, Christmas or summer break.

“First of all, I didn’t get myself a girl,” he deftly stood up and I suddenly felt so small compared to him. He was so tall (and yeah, handsome as hell) that I couldn’t help but fidget anxiously. Oh yeah, if I forgot to mention, he was almost a feet taller than me. “Secondly, I’m currently writing a song, so I got over my writer’s block, thank you for your question. Thirdly, why do you look like you just got hit by a train?” he turned to Kyungsoo who was the least energetic out of the five of us. His depressive mood didn’t urge me to find reasons because I thought that he was always like this.

“It seems that Wendy is more into that Tuan guy and not our lovely Kyungsoo. We know it because unfortunately, we saw as−“ the notorious blabbermouth – also known as Kim Jongdae – couldn’t shut his mouth but Kyungsoo shot him the deadliest glare ever, so he immediately shut up.

“Can’t we just start the practice and forget about useless things?”

“He said a minute ago that love is the most important value in life and now he calls it useless. Heartbreak is really a sad thing,” Baekhyun pouted dramatically despite the constant frown on his member’s face.

“You know, I was thinking of leaving anyway, so−“ I announced before an impending bickering would take place but the others didn’t seem to let go of me. Not yet.

“Oh no, you don’t go anywhere!” Jongdae practically tripped over himself as he made his way to our duo and gently grabbed my elbows. He pulled a nearby chair closer and motioned me to sit down on it. “We would like to have Chanyeol’s girlfriend as a guest during our practice. Maybe it would boost his confidence.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Okay, his soon-to-be-girlfriend,” the bass guitarist corrected himself while Baekhyun was constantly nodding, mumbling various degrees of approvals and wise words. I helplessly squinted at the drummer guy who shrugged his shoulders with a small, albeit tired smile and pointed to the chair.

“You can really stay if you want,” he suggested with a mediocre convincing voice. I really had no idea what to do but the guys did it instead of me. They literally dragged me to the chair and slumped me down before they went to pick up their instruments and started practicing.

I would lie if I said that I didn’t glance at Chanyeol from time to time, although I really tried my best to avert my eyes to the other boys. However, I couldn’t bring myself to look at Kyungsoo because he was the definition of teenage angst. He threw angry glances around the room while clinging onto the microphone so hard that I was afraid that it would break. If someone said to me that Jongdae was taking happy pills, I would definitely agree with them because he jumped up and down during the whole practice and when he didn’t move, he wiggled his eyebrows. Baekhyun was literally acting like a crazy dude who had totally lost it because he either smiled to himself or sang the chorus so loudly that even Kyungsoo was relieved that he didn’t have to sing about that so-called love when he was right after a break-up. (I don’t know if that was what I should call his little mental breakdown after the thing with Wendy and that Tuan guy but yeah.)

Last but not least, Chanyeol was rather cute because he was totally immersed into drumming and couldn’t be bothered to care about anything else. He stuck his tongue out from time to time and his little action made him a bit childish but undeniably sexy. I swear he was stealing glances at me when I wasn’t looking but I was too afraid to look back when I felt his stare.

It was then when I realised that maybe Park Annoying Chanyeol wasn’t even that bad. And maybe I really needed some advices from my personal relationship consultant.

[lovelytable]

1-90 for make me admit stuff ask

1: would you have sex with the last person you text messaged?

well i mean considering it was a group chat full of my str8 friendos i would have to say hard no

2: you talked to an ex today, correct?

technically but it’s complicated

3: have you taken someones virginity?

VIRGINITY IS A SOCIAL CONSTRUCT but also no

4: is trust a big issue for you?

not really. i’m actually a little too trusting. 

5: did you hang out with the person you like recently?

yes

6: what are you excited for?

spring break is in 20 days and i’m going to spain with my spanish class so the hype is real

7: what happened tonight?

i’m actually answering this in the morning but last night i went for a walk with my dog and my friend and we adventured all the way from her house to target and back and we made some nice friends and screamed into the void to tell it to stop playing country music and all in all it was a good evening.

8: do you think it’s disgusting when girls get really wasted?

no. let them live. just please don’t vomit on me and also be safe.

9: is confidence cute?

ehhhhh i don’t really like this question. like i like confident people but that’s just because they’re healthy and happy with themselves and that’s admirable and beautiful but “cute” isn’t really the right word.

10: what is the last beverage you had?

water

11: how many people of the opposite sex do you fully trust?

GENDER IS A FLUID SPECTRUM AND THERE IS NO “OPPOSITE SEX” but also 5 off the top of my head. 6 if we’re counting guy fieri.

12: do you own a pair of skinny jeans?

i don’t own any jeans that aren’t skinny.

13: what are you gonna do saturday night?

next saturday is my birthday and i really don’t know what i’m doing. probably hang out with my friends. make some s’mores. maybe see a movie (because i’ll be 17 and so r rated movies are an option and yea).

14: what are you going to spend money on next?

candy and flowers for my friends. only one of them has a bf and she’s not doing valentine’s day with him so they’re all getting presents from me. i love.

15: are you going out with the last person you kissed?

no

16: do you think you’ll change in the next three months?

of course. next month i’m going to spain without my family and by may i’ll have taken my ap exams and i’ll also have been in a play and god i really hope between all that i grow up/glow up a lil.

17: who do you feel most comfortable talking to about anything?

my friend who i went for a walk with last night. she was one of the first three people i came out to (i did it via text bc i’m a fucking loser) and out of all my friends she’s the one who’s the most honest with me so i like to return the favor.

18: the last time you felt broken?

february 10

19: have you had sex today?

no

20: are you starting to realize anything?

yessSSSSSSSSS AND IT’S FREAKING ME OUT

21: are you in a good mood?

i’m too stressed to be in a good mood.

22: would you ever want to swim with sharks?

not really. like don’t get me wrong i live for adrenaline rushes but i don’t really like swimming in salt water. it burns. also swimming with sharks is problematic. but anyway.

23: are your eyes the same color as your dad’s?

nope. he’s got brown and mine are blue. i’m a spitting image of my mom though.

24: what do you want right this second?

a magical machine to do all my homework for me

25: what would you say if the person you love/like kissed another girl/boy?

good for them but also BUDDY BOI WYD

26: is your current hair color your natural hair color?

yea. i did some colorful streaks last week for a project but by now i’m pretty sure they’ve washed out.

27: would you be able to date someone who doesn’t make you laugh?

no. that’s the most important thing imho.

28: what was the last thing that made you laugh?

my own awkwardness

29: do you really, truly miss someone right now?

miss isn’t the right word. i need to talk to some people but i’m not filled with a bottomless pit of longing or some shit.

30: does everyone deserve a second chance?

most people do but definitely not everyone.

31: honestly, do you hate the last boy you were talking to?

oh god no. he’s in the aforementioned 5/6 people.

32: does the person you have feelings for right now, know you do?

hard maybe. i think so??? but i’m a mess.

33: are you one of those people who never drinks soda?

no. i mean i haven’t had soda in forever and i usually choose water over soda just because health and also bubbles in my stomach are not the best feeling but i still like it.

34: listening to?

just got done listening to in the heights for the billionth time

35: do you ever write in pencil anymore?

every day

36: do you know where the last person you kissed is?

n/a

37: do you believe in love at first sight?

no. i promise i’m not some cynical angsty teen but i just don’t think that’s possible.

38: who did you last call?

ummm i never make actual phone calls they kind of stress me out but it was probably my mom or dad

39: who was the last person you danced with?

my friends

40: why did you kiss the last person you kissed?

n/a LET ME LIVE

41: when was the last time you ate a cupcake?

thursday? i think? i ate a muffin this morning tho

42: did you hug/kiss one of your parents today?

not yet but they just came back from a run and that’s a lil gross

43: ever embarrass yourself in front of your crush?

sweaty my life is an embarrassment

44: do you tan in the nude?

i used to but i burn really easily and now i’m more about the soft, unwrinkled skin life anyway

45: (woOAAHHHHH WE’RE HALFWAY THERE) if you could, would you take back your last kiss?

N/A

46: did you talk to someone until you fell asleep last night?

no

47: who was the last person to call you?

i think it was my grandpa

48: do you sing in the shower?

i perform

49: do you dance in the car?

i. perform.

50: ever used a bow and arrow?

actually yea in 5th grade i went to this cool camp thing and we did archery

51: last time you got a portrait taken by a photographer?

a couple weeks ago we had school pictures with the clubs we’re in

52: do you think musicals are cheesy?

some definitely are but they’re so good

53: is christmas stressful?

certain aspects of it are but in the end it’s two weeks off of school so i can’t complain.

54: ever eat a pierogi?

ever eat a what now

55: favorite type of fruit pie?

does key lime count

56: occupations you wanted to be when you were a kid?

i remember when i was really little and didn’t understand how business worked i really wanted to work at sonic so i could wear roller skates and bring back the pancake on a stick. if that didn’t pan out my backup plan was being a dinosaur.

57: do you believe in ghosts?

sure

58: ever have a deja vu feeling?

i’m living a deja vu feeling right now sis

59: take a vitamin daily?

i used to. i need to get back on that.

60: wear slippers?

no. i have perpetually cold feet but i refuse. fuzzy socks are where it’s at.

61: wear a bath robe?

eh sometimes

62: what do you wear to bed?

usually an old t shirt but it depends on how hot/cold im feeling

63: first concert?

i’m lame i’m sorry

64: wal-mart, target, or kmart?

target obv

65: nike or adidas?

nike only because adidas sports bras ain’t shit

66: cheetos or fritos?

cheetos

67: peanuts or sunflower seeds?

peanuts (although sunflower seeds are very aesthetic as far as snacks go)

68: favorite taylor swift song?

my second favorite song i ever had was love story

69: (aw yisss) ever take dance lessons?

i used to when i was really little. that lasted 2 ish years and then i did gymnastics for like 8 years.

70: is there a profession you picture your future spouse doing?

i don’t picture a future spouse

71: can you curl your tongue?

NO AND EVERYONE IN MY FAMILY CAN DO THE FOUR LEAF CLOVER THING AND ALL SORTS OF WEIRD SHIT AND I CAN’T EVEN WINK AND MY FACE MUSCLES IN GENERAL ARE WOEFULLY INADEQUATE

72: ever won a spelling bee?

YES.

the day is february 18, 2011. my birthday. i stand before my elementary school along with the other nerds who participated in uil academics. they begin to announce the winners for the district-wide spelling competition. 7th place. 3rd place. “and corbell elementary is proud to present the first place medal to...” i look around. all my classmates have already taken a seat upon collecting their medals. i am alone on stage. i grin with the realization. “SUZI”. the crowd goes wild. my parents are cheering. obama is there.

73: have you ever cried because you were so happy?

all the tim

74: what is your favorite book?

WE ARE THE ANTS BY SHAUN DAVID HUTCHINSON OH MY GOD EVERYBODY NEEDS TO READ IT ASAP

75: do you study better with or without music?

with

76: regularly burn incense?

no but i have a few candles in my room

77: ever been in love?

no (?)

78: who would you like to see in concert?

hank green and the perfect strangers

79: what was the last concert you saw?

NNNNN/AAAAA LEAVE ME ALONE

80: hot tea or cold tea?

both

81: tea or coffee?

both.

82: favorite type of cookie?

chocolate chip

83: can you swim well?

i mean i haven’t drowned yet

84: can you hold your breath without holding your nose?

yes but not for very long

85: are you patient?

god no

86: dj or band at a wedding?

dj

87: ever won a contest?

actually yea i won a book giveaway last summer on here but i never claimed it

88: ever have plastic surgery?

i haven’t yet but i probably will. i don’t have self esteem issues or anything but i just want to.

89: which are better black or green olives?

ew neither

90: opinions on sex before marriage?

live your life just pls be careful

BONUS (because there’s only 2 more anyway)

91: best room for a fireplace?

living room

92: do you want to get married?

not really. the only reason i ever would would be out of spite but in that case it would probably just be eloping or something bc mi familia would not contribute.

[moricatlibrary]

The Moon and The Sea

Short mourning blurb:

In which Ymir stops by to chat with her friend Armin one evening near the end of her 13 years to talk about the late Eren Yeager on the beach.

I love any excuse to write Ymir and especially to write her up against Armin and ESPECIALLY to write eremin and yumihisu supporting each other, so this was a hecka fun blurb to write! I’m not at my computer right now so I will edit the italics and such later.

Enjoy if you can!!!

Armin watched as the waves crashed on the shore, the familiar smell of salt and brine traveling up through his nose. He swept his thumb over his own arm, holding himself tight as he rested against the sea stack in front of the sea on his home beach. Over a year had passed since the tragedy that everyone knew Armin would struggle to recover from… The smell of the ocean and the sound of the endless waves in the wind was something he associated with Eren’s loss ever since that awful day. While the tears fell less often than they did at the beginning, the empty place in his heart never stopped howling for his lover to come back. It never stopped hurting. Of course Armin expected as much, and was rather proud of himself for holding up as well as he was in the mean time though. He’d been traveling, staying in touch with his friends, writing, praying, and dreaming, keeping himself as healthy as possible. But the empty feeling, he knew, would never go away. And some nights, like this one, his heart ached extra woefully…

He blinked slowly, his body simply going through its motions at the moment while his depression depleted him of emotions. He tried not to think, a difficult task for Armin Arlert, but, though slow, his brain still ran through any number of different thoughts… Why does sand feel so hot in the daytime but cold and damp in the evenings, like this one? He supposed the crumbled rocks and shells in it just conducted heat from the sun very well. Why does the light blue sky turn lavender, pink, and violet in the twilight hour like this? Maybe the heavens churn it that way to give humans pleasant sights for comfortable dreams… Why does the ocean have so much salt? No idea. Did god just put it there? Was it whale semen like the outside world teenagers always joked? He hoped not. Maybe there’s a big salt rock somewhere on earth that the waves always smack and carry its essence to all the oceans of the world? No matter… Nothing matters anymore… “Eren…”

“Hey, Shrimplet!” A familiar voice called.

Armin slowly turned around, his heavy body taking its time, and found that the snarky voice came from Ymir.

Ymir swaggered over to Armin’s space and plopped down beside him by the rock. “Ahh, these old bones of mine really don’t work like they used to. ‘My curse’ sure creeps up on you fast, I must say.” She croaned.

The corner of Armin’s lip slightly floated up before floating back down to its empty expression.

Ymir glanced at him and pursed her lips. “Alright, lamb chop, what’s eatin’ you, eh? No one likes a sad sack.”

Armin glanced back but resumed his gaze at the sea just as quickly. “Sorry, Ymir… Just depressed.”

“…Missing your cuddle buddy, eh?”

“… Yeah.”

“Hmm. Well, you know, as morbid as it sounds, you’ve only got 4 years left before the clock strikes for you too. He’ll be waiting for you.”

Armin’s eyes welled up as his throat heated, a cry bubbling through his lips and burning his ticklish nose. He hugged his knees to his chest and buried his face in his arms, crying quietly in spite of Ymir’s presence.

Ymir winced at herself, feeling guilty for misspeaking in her attempts to comfort him. “Ah, not the right thing to say, huh? My bad. That’s what I’d be telling myself if I were you, is all. Historia wouldn’t like that, but what can I say? I’m an honest human being.”

“…Eren wanted me to live. I’m trying my best. And I’m okay for the most part, but there’s still this part of me deep down that wants to hurry up and be with him again…” he confessed, his voice cracking and his tears growing as they fell in big drops from his eyelids. “And I feel like he’d be so ashamed of me… betraying his will for me like that…” He buried his face back in his arms, still crying, while Ymir thought for a moment…

“…That suicidal bastard has no room to talk.”

Armin gritted his teeth at such a disrespectful comment towards his late husband and raised his head back up, but Ymir continued before he could speak.

“As much as he sought after death? He’s got no reason to judge you. My point is, don’t feel shitty over that. He knows you, he knows how hard it is. He’s not gonna be ashamed of you. He’s not gonna be mad. The only thing that big sap would do is hold you and say ‘I’m sorry’ while he drools over your hair and dry humps your knee. You two were gross, you know that? And that’s coming from ME.” She laughed.

Armin’s jaw relaxed and his expression softened again. As always, Ymir knew what to say to him, even if she was horrible at saying it. She was right though… If Eren were alive and sitting there before him, hearing that Armin felt this way, the first thing he’d do is hold him tight, and kiss him, and beg him in a whisper to forgive him and to ‘Just hold on… Just hold on…’ Armin prayed an apology for minding Eren’s will above actually remembering Eren. Eren is always alive if he remembers him… He is always alive… And of course, Eren would just say ‘Hey, come on, it’s not your fault. Everything’s okay. Don’t be sad, please. Crying is my job. I love you, Armin…’

“…You with me, shorty?” Ymir finally asked after Armin seemed to drift off into space in his mind for a long moment.

“Ymir, Historia is grateful for every single second you have with her. Don’t ever change. And give her every second of your time.”

Ymir snorted. “What a sap, you certainly never change, do you, bunny boy?” she laughed, ruffling his hair and smiling to hear him laugh in return. “…So tell me, are there any non-sappy stories about you two getting into mischief over the years?”

“Oh, we got into trouble all the time when we were kids. If there was something I wanted to do, Eren would make sure we’d do it, no matter how much people were against it.” He chuckled. “Oh, there was a time in the trainees corps where the commandant said something really mean to me and Eren got so mad he insisted I help him break into his office and steal his cookie stash. And of course, I said we shouldn’t do that. But of course we did it anyway.”

“I think I remember how this one ends…”

Armin blushed and stifled his embarrassed laughter. “The Commandant made an example of us as soon as he found out the cookies were stolen. He said he would have done nothing about it except the culprits made a fatal mistake he wouldn’t accept from his soldiers in training: We left the cookie tin right out in the open in the cabin during a surprise inspection, crumbs all over our beds. He pulled us both out of roll formation by the hair and displayed us as incompetent fools.”

“That was pretty hilarious!” Ymir commented, hunched over laughing in the cold sand.

“Yeah. But after that he was surprisingly pretty nice to us. He said he liked our gumption. And he actually hoped we would use our team work get back at him for calling me whatever it was he called me. It was strange, really. But it turns out he was fond of Eren anyway for being the son of Carla Yeager.”

“Damn, how did I miss all this gossip?”

“You were MIA when we found out about the Carla thing.”

“Ah, right.”

“Historia missed you a lot back then by the way.”

“Yeah, crazy-eyes told me.” She said, of course referring to Eren. “Say, fuzz nuts… You’re smart. Do you think she resents me at all?…” she inquired sadly.

Armin was surprised. Ymir never showed herself in a vulnerable light… “No, of course not. Why?”

“I don’t know. I’m pretty hard to love sometimes. In the face of a goddess, who wouldn’t be?”

“I understand… That’s why it’s good to have friends. To tell you that it’s all in your head and that you’ve nothing to worry about cuz we can see that she loves you more than anything.” He gave her a reassuring smile and placed his hand on her shoulder affectionately. “Even when you call her friends mean nick names and drink all the wine.”

Ymir snorted again, giving Armin a playful nudge, and Armin could swear he saw her wipe a tear from her eye… “Yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking, baby face! Heaven knows I’m a goddess too.”

Armin grinned. “That’s right.”

Ymir sighed and shifted in the sand with an aching groan, ready to stand back up again. “Welp, guess I’m headin’ home. Nice talking to ya, goo goo eyes.”

Armin quickly took her arm. “Ah– wait, wait… Wouldn’t you like to watch the moon rise over the ocean? It’s pretty soul cleansing.”

Ymir beamed. Of course she knew the beauty of the moon… It was her favorite thing in the world. “Yeah, alright.” And with that, she settled back in her sandy seat.

The friends watched as the moon slowly rose over the horizon, chatting about nostalgic memories of their trainee days and gossiping about their lovers. Since talking about Eren was Armin’s best medicine in mourning, he desperately needed this quality time and sent Ymir endless gratitude with his happy eyes. Ymir smiled to herself the entire time, so glad to have had this lovely evening reminiscing with this good friend on the tail end of her life… She never once had a boring conversation with Armin Arlert.