#Veil's Writing

[veilder]

Chapters: 6/6 Fandom: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Connor/Gavin Reed, Gavin Reed & Upgraded Connor | RK900, Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900, Hank Anderson & Upgraded Connor | RK900 Characters: Upgraded Connor | RK900, Gavin Reed, Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Hank Anderson, Tina Chen, Chris Miller (Detroit: Become Human) Additional Tags: Secret Admirer, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Romantic Comedy, Oblivious Gavin Reed, NOT Reed900, (But their friendship is very important to me), Does Connor know what he's doing? Probably not, Warning: Gavin's Potty Mouth, Nines is a Bro, Nines' POV, Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings, Good Parent Hank Anderson Summary:

Detective Gavin Reed had quite the reputation surrounding his name. Needless to say, no one had ever referred to the mulish, belligerent, often downright hostile detective as a hopeless romantic.

Which is why Nines found the current proceedings so fascinating.

 Or, the one where Gavin has a Secret Admirer and Nines discovers his surly partner has untold depths.

[yeoldenews]

A selection of strange and cryptic personal ads from The New York Herald, 1860s to 1890s. 14/?

[bunnygirllover45]

— THE THRILL OF THE HUNT.

♱ TRIGGER WARNINGS: Johann literally hunts down the reader, Small outburst at the end, and a lot of bullshit talk about hunting because I like it, DEAD DOVE. No violence was used.

Synopsis: You escape from Johann, he has to track you down. WORD COUNT: 1.6k

Johann wasn't exactly the thrill-seeking kind. He always preferred a slow-paced life, not filled with many excitements or tragedies. He wasn’t an adventurous spirit or a fiery soul in search of greater meaning. In his head, the only thing he needed was you.

And maybe that’s why this exact moment made his blood boil with newfound rapture, he could swear for a moment his skin bumped at the feeling of his heart throbbing so quickly against his ribcage. The thrill of the hunt, like his father used to say, made mere men become beasts, some because it was vital for their survival, others because of the rush of power it gave them.

But he couldn’t quite understand it until now. For him, hunts weren’t that exciting. The game was always too easy to track down, the footsteps effortlessly concealed. The gun didn’t feel heavy enough. His breath didn’t quicken at the mere chance of letting his prey slip away; he’ll always find a way to reach them again, after all. Animals have their habits; they’re easy to decipher once you know their true nature.

This is the type of hunt he’s been craving for so long. Johann had to press a hand against his mouth to prevent a low chuckle from escaping. Oh, how right his father was. This was truly trilling to the core, the kind of thrill that made a foreign heat rise towards his head and seep into his very brain tissue.

Humans aren’t like animals, their behavior is a little more erratic, animals can be divided between highly intelligent beings and straight-up dumb ones, but humans? All of them had their quirks, you couldn’t easily guess how prepared someone could be under certain circumstances. “Isn’t that so fucking interesting?” 

Lowering himself to the ground Johann reached to touch the freshly shaped footstep that his precious prey left behind. If they’re leaving such a pretty trail behind they’re expecting me to find them, what a tease.

“You know what kind of animals roam these types of terrains?” His voice was loud enough to carry its sound through the extremely quiet, when the hunt begins, the forest goes quiet, no need to scream. “Bears, moose, sometimes even wolves. Had to detangle a lot of ‘em from traps before, not without properly securing they won’t be able to bite, ‘course.” 

His heavy boots made the rotten wood and debris scattered around the forest soil yield under their weight, no need to change onto more quiet shoes, his bunny wouldn’t be able to hear him coming, surely their heartbeat was the only thing resounding inside their ears. Reaching into his pocket he took out his watch, starting a countdown. “I’ll give you two minutes to gain distance, cover your tracks, you can try hiding if you want, but I wouldn’t recommend staying still, it makes you easier to spot.” 

“Once the two minutes are done I’ll begin searching, I'll make a bird calling each 45 seconds, and once three minutes pass by, I’ll stop making bird callings and hunt in earnest, ‘kay? Just want to make the game easier for you, it isn’t fun if I’m the one with the upper hand all the time even if this is my subject.” 

With a deep sigh, he crouched down again, his hands fidgeting inside his pocket until he found a cigarette, the last one actually. Grabbing his lighter he lit up the tip, taking a slow inhale before letting the smoke escape from his lips. 

His free hand reached to grab the gun he always had with him, it was an old friend of sorts, stuck by his side in all the worst situations, a lot of people meeting their death at the end of this same barrel. Maybe it should have your name, after all, people do name their guns sometimes.

The forest grew more eerily quiet, the sun setting down in the distance while Johann quietly awaited the starting gunshot of the race, he didn’t really need to put the time on his watch, he could already count the time down to the millisecond inside his head. “Forty-eight, forty-nine…” His gloved fingers tapped against his lips, hands tightly clad in leather gloves, perfect for the harsh Austrian winter. 

A part of him wished you didn’t even make the effort to run away, maybe finding you curled up against a rock or a tree just waiting for him to find you was more exciting than actually pursuing you, after all, that meant you truly gave up on the idea of leaving him behind—still, another part of his brain screamed for you to run, so he could find you and make sure you won’t try pulling up bullshit like this again.

Slowly he stood up, the watch making a low beeping sound before he began to walk, settling the gun back onto the strap around his thigh. Holding the cigarette in between his lips he began to prepare the clothes you were going to use once he caught you, after all, little you decided to escape both barefoot and barely dressed, the worst thing in this forest beside him was the cold. Holding the spare jacket he always brought with him inside his bag and a blanket he continued to walk nonchalantly, not even sparing a single stare in any direction that wasn’t just dead front and center. 

Johann's stare drifted onto the floor, a little disappointed that you didn’t take his recommendation into account, there, clear as day, were your pretty little marks for him to follow like a bloodhound. Johann even took the time to carefully make sure he didn’t accidentally step into any of them, not wanting to overshadow the loving tracks you left behind for him with his heavy boots.

He knew very well he was taking all of this too lightly, this was a high gamble where he could lose everything or gain all, but still the elated sense of happiness and bubbling excitement made him more self-confident, too sure you wouldn’t get away too far, and even if you did, he’d stay in the damn forest all the time necessary for you to realize you need to go back onto his loving arms.

Stopping dead in his tracks he turned around as he heard a small sound coming from behind a fallen stump, dead bark peeling off the tree’s corpse. There you are.

And there you were indeed, curled up in a ball, back pressing against the rough bark as you held your arms around your torso, bracing yourself from the harsh winter cold, from the shiver that ran down your shoulders towards your legs or the sight you so pathetically defenseless made him smile, a blush creeping up onto his features.

“You didn’t even run far enough to let me do any bird calls, are you that tired, baby?” He kneeled down in front of you, but as soon as you jolted up in surprise Johann’s hand shot to grab your wrist with unnerving quickness. His dark eyes bore into you, a small smile gracing his lips, but there was no emotion behind that expression of his. “That’s okay, next time I’ll give you some proper equipment, some shoes wouldn’t hurt.” 

His thumb caressed the skin of your wrist, while his other hand threw away the now almost half-smoked cigarette that Johann held in between his lips. Eventually he reached to grab your head in between them, rubbing your cheeks with such tenderness that it could be even soothing in a different situation. “There, you did good. Not good enough to grant you a reward, but you did have me a little scared back there.” His smile widened as he lied through his teeth. You frowned, tired, freezing cold and also breathless, but still with enough energy to try and pry his hand away from your wrist, it was useless, he was latched onto you like a handcuff. “Fuck yo—” Before you could even finish he reached to clasp his free hand onto your mouth, the sudden movement making you stumble backward, head pressing against the tree. “Fuckin’ language.” He whispered between his teeth, staring at you dead in the eyes. “You should be grateful I didn’t put a damn bullet in between those pretty eyes of yours. Runnin’ away from me like that? After all I did for you? I let you away from my sight for just a second and you go jolting away like a fucking rabbit.” 

Taking a deep breath he lowered his head, slowly pushing his hand away from your mouth, his face leaning closer to you, the only warm feeling gracing your warm body being his hot breath against your face. “Sorry ‘bout that.” He pushed your lower lip with his thumb, pressing a soft kiss onto your flesh as some sick and twisted kind of apology.

“I won’t be as lenient next time, ‘kay? You know I care about you a lot, meine Liebe, don’t want you getting hurt.” He forced a smile, leaning his forehead against yours, but again his voice was masked by the thumping sound of your heart against your ears. “Let’s get you back to the car, I’ll get you all warmed up and cozy.” 

You just let him grab you, his hands effortlessly grabbing you and carrying you bridal style as both of you made your way back toward the car, you stole a few glances at Johann’s face, finding a small smile and that darn blush in his cheeks that showed how much he enjoyed himself, maybe a twisted part of him was truly pleased by all of this, even if it just started as a rebellious act of trying to escape from your part.

“Hear that? It’s a White-tailed eagle. Birds of prey, always hunted them with my father as a child.” Suddenly the forest wasn’t so quiet anymore, the hunt has ended.

[zaephix]

l'avoir elle, c'est avoir les étoiles / / wriothesley . . .

wriothesley considered himself a pretty selfless man, until it came to you. wouldn’t you indulge him in his selfish desires for a moment of your time?

warnings: inspired by veil (manga), blind!reader, f!reader, ooc wriothesley?, wriothesley’s pov, mentions of smoking, mentions of neuvilette and sigewinne, fluff, domesticity

w/c: 1.25k

authors note:  i reread veil and i need an aleksander to call my own hmu if ur a russian police officer w red hair Plz. art cred: ルル on twt

“wrio? what’s wrong?”

wriothesley fully opens his half lidded eyes, noting your appearance as you lay on the table before him, not wanting to disturb his contemplation.

the only sound at this time of the night being your voices, the distant echoes of droplets from the pipes in the wall, and the soft jazz playing from his gramophone. you slowly get up and approach him, light steps clicking against the stone floor.

your hands find their way to his face, a light stubble itching against your fingers. he sighs, leaning against you. “...nothin’ to worry your pretty little head about.”

you hum, obviously not believing his lie. you drag your fingers to the back of his head, lightly scratching his scalp. you lean in towards him, the couch dipping ever so slightly. “mhm. is it the fortress again? ‘nother fight?” 

he chuckles, leaning his head back. the one thing he loved about you was your attentiveness. you’d read him like a book, or rather,  feel.

you tilted your head in confusion, your pretty and ever-so-long lashes fluttering while closed against your skin. “what?”

“nothin’ angel. just admiring you.”

“y’know, if you wanted to distract me it’s not working. the way to my heart isn’t just built on flattery. and anyone could see through those big sighs of yours.” and you go again, flashing that cheeky smile as you always did, the same as when you two were younger.

he laughs lightly, “of course 'ts not. i know you better than that.”

“and i know you better than that,” your hands stop, and you look at him with the most serious face you could muster, “tell me.”

he sighs and shakes his head, “it’s a lot more complicated than that sweetheart, don’t wanna bore you to death.”

and with that you relent with your own deep sigh, leaning back into the couch and off of him. he misses your warmth.

“don’t be like that (y/n).” he looks at you through the sides of his eyes, then gently reaches for your hand, caressing it with his thumb. “you got so much to worry ‘bout already, with how many are coming in all roughed up.”

“yes…” you mumble, “but, it’s just us now.”

he can’t see your eyes, as they’re closed, but he was sure they’d be glossy now—he wishes you’d open them once more. wriothesley leans in and plants a small kiss against your forehead, then leans his own against it.

he knows your weakness for touch, for physical contact. 

the way your delicate hands would softly caress every nook and cranny of a trinket he’d get you. the way you’d feel for a lamp when you thought things were too dim for your liking. the way you’d toy with the jewelry hanging on your neck, ears and wrists. it seemed like you couldn’t get enough.

he also knows about your compassion for him. always keeping tabs throughout the day, sending little sweets and snacks for him. you’d handle patients with sigewinne with gentleness, even when they were somewhat undeserving of it. and when you’d have work above ground, you make sure to send letters to sigewinne, keeping up with her updates about him. 

wriothesley knows you miss living up in the city. he knows you long for the soft tunes that would be performed in the dim-lit streets at night, tossing a few mora into their hats lying on the sidewalk. he knows you miss keeping up with the latest fashion trends and splurging your money on tens of dresses. he knows you miss your old life with him.

and so in spite of this, you still stood by him. ever so selfless and caring.

but he couldn’t help himself out of his own selfishness.

wriothesley pulls you into his lap, his rough hands pushing back the few loose strands of hair in front of your face behind your ears. to everyone he’d be known as the fearless duke of meropide, to you, he’d just be plain old wriothesley. your loving, plain, old wriothesley.

you’re reluctant at first, a pout standing firm on your face. your delicate features almost give you away as he slowly snakes his arms around you. he pulls you closer by your waist and you give in just like putty in his palms. 

your eyes are still comfortably closed, hands making their way lazily to his shoulders. you sniff the air around you two, scrunching your nose. “you’ve been smoking, my lord?”

“...no.”

“you’ve got all these rules around the fortress about extending prison time if anybody ever so as brings in a lighter, and yet you’re here, in your office, all cooped up and–”

you squeal as he puts his lips to yours to shut you up. you taste like crepes and jam, courtesy of neuvillette. the soft velvet feel of your lipstick smears against him, some even getting on his teeth. sigewinne was in his office just a day ago asking about what shade of red or pink would suit you. it appears she chose well. he smiles into the kiss, hands digging their way into your hair. he makes a note to thank both for the gifts.

you pull away with a slight gasp before resuming like the sly fox you were. you were always able to catch on quickly, as you’d learn a few things from him yourself. 

you nibble on his lip. he lightly bites yours’ back.

you stifle your giggles at first, but then you laugh, and suddenly, your complexion was glowing — and he swore he’d seen an angel. 

wriothesley looks up at you with a fondness in his eyes, hands now at your waist. he was sure he looked silly, with the reddish pink all over his lips, but he knew you wouldn’t care. really.

“shutting me up with a kiss… how original of you.”

“but you liked it, no?” that earns him a flick against his forehead, ouch.

you sit up straight, wiping the edges of your lips, “if you’ll excuse me, sir, i promised sigewinne i’d help her in stocking the medical cabinet. we’ve just received our shipment of gauze from fontaine.”

he knew you wouldn’t notice it, but he couldn’t help but look at you with longing in his eyes, wanting to shield you away and coop you inside his office, inside his arms.

but he lets you go with a sigh on his lips and a gentle kiss of his thumb on the apple of your cheek. “yes, ma’am,” he pauses before he adds on. “you want me to walk you there?”

you stand up and he gets up synonymously with you, tugging and fixing your clothes without a word. “it’s fine, i can get around the place myself, i’m not a damsel in need of help all the time.”

you turn on your tippy toes and press a chaste kiss to the side of his mouth before quickly grabbing your coat and leaving. “i’ll see you again soon, okay?”

he smiles after you, watching as you leave with your shoes clicking against the stone of the floor. he looks back at his desk with grimace, the piles of paperwork enough to sour his mood.

he grabs a cigarette and reaches for his pockets, trying to find the cool metal of his lighter. instead, it appears, he was met with something else.

“what…?”

he realizes now that you truly were too sly for your own good, as he was met with the very same lipstick gifted to you.

cheeky.

[maybevarric]

at the end of tresspasser we see many of the elves mysteriously disappear across thedas correct? honestly this should have been the origin story for the veil jumpers: they get recruited by solas under the guise of restoring the ways of the elvhen.

initially these recruited elves would have been generally supportive across the board because finally there’s some kind of reclamation of their history and their past. finally there is an explanation and some kind of hint of a future as a whole. things are looking up under the protection and guidance of the dreadwolf.

but as solas’ plan would progress we’d start to see a divide amongst his followers, and i reckon this is where the veil jumpers would begin. as a pushback to this. as an act of defiance against what was coming. learning what solas’ plans are for the future of thedas and tearing down the veil and all that. the veil jumpers choose not to reclaim their history and past through these kinds of designs, but instead to learn for themselves because they are owed it. they deserve it. but not at the cost of the world ending.

idk i think the worldbuilding and the lore could have been SO much better. and i think it’s really strange that solas had agents in tresspasser and then suddenly had nothing come the start of datv.

[stil-lindigo]

little dove.

a short comic about Ash and Snow's first meeting / how Snow got her nickname.

Snow's story

Ash’s story

--

notes:

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all my other comics

store

[beeansandrice]

“What am I?” “You’re alive!”

Details below the cut :3

[ohproserpine]

Maybe draw Alastor and Dolly like this, would be rather fitting. Ps. love the series, I am absolutely OBSESSED!!!

OMG! DEFINITELY DOING THIS <333

[uncanny-tranny]

Good news! You aren't required to make your hobbies and passions "marketable." In fact, your crafts, hobbies, and passions don't even need to be public if you so choose. You don't have to spend all of your energy becoming perfect if you aren't enjoying the process. You are not a product, you are a person, a creative, and your work also does not need to be a product.

[dk-thrive]

I have an idea that the only thing which makes it possible to regard this world we live in without disgust is the beauty which now and then men create out of the chaos. The pictures they paint, the music they compose, the books they write, and the lives they lead. Of all these the richest in beauty is the beautiful life. That is the perfect work of art.

— W. Somerset Maugham, from The Painted Veil (Heinemann; January 1, 1949) (via The Hammock Papers)

[ot3]

love for that all tlt is supposed to be reworked homestuck fanfic, nobody can agree on what it originally was. which is a long way to say that I had to see someone accuse it of being a lesbian rose/dave rework once.

it's crazy it's almost like despite the fact that TLT has a lot of similarities to stuff taz did in the homestuck fandom/shows its influences she's a talented and competent writer who was able turn those influences into fully unique characters and settings that can't be 1:1 compared to fanfiction she wrote a decade ago. it's almost like Filing Serial Numbers off of fanfiction to publish it outright as an expy for those same dynamics is something that happens when you have an unskilled or lazy writer try and transition into publishing original work.

[therabbitthatpostthings]

Learning Czech for my Arcane fics. Russian for the YOI fics. Spanish for the Voltron fics and French just cause. Call me Mr. Worldwide. In all seriousness, half the languages I’m learning are just because I’m tired of looking for shows with subtitles.

Hurt/Comfort, slight ooc, thinly veiled venting session

(Masterpost)

✒︎⋆✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆𖡼𖤣⋆ 𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊⋆✩₊˚

“Um, Councilman Talis?” Her meek voice echoed off the laboratory walls. It was a stormy afternoon. The crackling lighting illuminated the walls. The room was grand, dark and quiet. The door creaked behind as she approached the work bench. “C-Councilman…”

“He’s gone.” A voice cut through. She turned over to find the other scientist hunched over his desk.

“Oh, I was actually looking for you Mr.Viktor..sir…”

He did not look up. “Yes, what is it?”

“Um, Assistant (L/N) is still in the greenhouse. I’m heading home and I was hoping you could check on them at some point.”

That caught his attention. You had today off, that’s what you told him at least. Viktor sat up, bones cracking into place as he stretched. “Yes, thank you. I will go to them before I leave today.”

She sighed in relief, “Thank you so much! It’s been a stressful week for us all.”

“Did something happen at the hearing?” He asked before she could leave the room.

Worry built up in her silence. Concern in her voice she asked, “Were you not informed?”

✒︎⋆✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆𖡼𖤣⋆ 𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊⋆✩₊˚

It’s such a shitty day for rain. You spent the last five hours cleaning the greenhouse, taking notes on fungal growth and angrily writing sticky notes for your morning shift colleagues. Notes you didn’t have to write since you would most likely be back here to do more work anyway but, maybe the thought of you not coming in would evoke some sort of productive reaction.

Some called it unnecessary. But they weren't botanists. They didn’t work at Piltover Academy. They weren’t on the cornerstone of something revolutionary.

You were. Well, you were.

It was a bitter feeling to wash down but you did nonetheless. You pushed aside the negative thoughts when you heard footsteps coming towards you.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Viktor said.

You spared him a glance before going back to your sticky notes. “Funny, I was gonna say the same thing.”

He took a few steps, towering over your crouching body. He eyed the myriad of colorful notes lining each individual planter and pot. “Why didn’t you tell me you came in?”

“Did it matter? I thought I’d be done by now but of course! No one does their job but me around here.” Your dismissive tone didn’t do much to sway him. He still stood behind you, watching you work. “Who told you I was here?”

“That’s not important-”

“It was Reecee wasn’t it.” You groaned.

“It doesn’t matter who told me. You’re here and you're upset.” He stated.

You scoffed, “I am not.”

“(Y/N).”

Of course you couldn’t hide your destestion from one of Piltover’s Finest, much less your boyfriend.

“Tell me what happened.” He urged.

“Didn’t Reecee tell you?”

“She said you had a meeting.”

“A meeting?” You said with a disparaging smile. “I had the meeting today.”

Viktor was well aware of “the meeting”. You had spoken about it at length ever since you were students. This was your Hextech. Your years of studying and research to get this meeting. Yet here you were, hunched over little sprouts on a cold rainy day.

You had a pained smile as you turned to face Viktor. “They didn’t even care. Years. Years of testing soil in the Undercity to clean the air, and they didn’t. Even. Care.”

Your voice was shaking. Your smile was dropping. Tears built up in your eyes. You could hear the committee’s voice clear as day.

“It’s just not viable.”

“We don’t have a large enough…overview of the Undercity’s layout.”

“The experiment could damage the already established ecosystem.”

Like they gave a shit about the ecosystem. Like they gave a shit about the Undercity!

“I was so desperate that I even said you and Jayce would back me up! It didn’t matter. They didn’t care! You know who did get a meeting with the higher council?! Ian-fucking-Rottmeiser!” You launched the notepad against the greenhouse wall, the looser notes flying up in the air. Truthfully, Rottmeiser wasn’t undeserving. In fact he worked hard on his proposal to integrate more plant life into Piltover. But that was just it. Piltover. He wants to help Piltover. They all want to help Piltover. It’s always Piltover.

“So now I’m here, doing my job. Cause that’s all I’m good for I guess! Just another Lab Assistant.”

Viktor pulled you into his arms. Your hand bunched around his sweater as the tear overtook you.

“It’s okay miláčku,” Viktor’s soothing hand rubbed your back.

“I don’t understand…I worked so hard…why not me…” You cried. From the moment you were born you were unlucky. Anyone born in the Undercity was unlucky. Your father was unlucky and drank contaminated water. The rest of you survived until your mother died on the Bridge of Progress. That just left you, on the other side of the bridge, separated from your remaining family in Piltover. And you studied everyday. You made it into the Academy, you climbed the ranks. Not a day went by without you working towards your goal. To improve lives, to save people! You spent week after week with your siblings, collecting samples in the Undercity. Risking your lives, sneaking in and out of Piltover, all to this meeting. And they didn’t care.

“How am I supposed to face them again?! I failed Viktor! I’m a failure!”

Still Viktor held onto you. Painful wails left you until your throat was raw. You unclench your fist as you relax against him. Shoulders slouching in defeat and Viktor’s warm hand never leaving you.

You sighed with a tired rasp in your voice. “I just wanted to do something right. To know it was worth all I had lost. I should’ve stayed in the Undercity.”

“Miláčku, look at me.” Viktor’s soft hands cupped your face. He gently lifted your head, his thumb wiping stray tears away. “You are exactly where you need to be right now. You are not a waste.”

“I failed Viktor..”

“No you didn’t. You did what you set out to do. You won, they lost. And when Hextech helps advance organic life and biodiversity, they will all be looking up to you.” His reassuring smile helped ease the pain. No one in Piltover could truly understand you like Viktor did. No one in Piltover lived through what you did except for Viktor. From the day you two met you promised you would rise above whatever was thought of you.

“You would do that for me?” You cooed softly.

He pressed a soft kiss against your temple, “I can’t trust any other botanist but you.”

Viktor stayed close by as you closed up for the day. You begrudgingly agreed to taking the next two days off (which your boss suggested anyway). Mostly because that meant you got to keep Viktor with you for two days as well. A bolt of lightning illuminated the sky on your departure down the wet streets of Piltover. After a crowded tram ride you both huddled inside of your apartment. You both melt into the soft couch cushions. Viktor’s head on your shoulder, his hand intertwined in yours, soft kisses pressed into your neck with sweet words in his native tongue. You felt your worries slip away as you nodded off. Viktor took notice and shifted your body to rest against his chest.

“Goodnight, my love.”

[starry-bi-sky]

mmmmmore of that disciple shen yuan fic i've jumped into writing, because I thought this scene was funny and wanted to share.

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His features hint at a marble sharpness though, he twists his neck left to right, eyes locked on and zeroed in on the curve of his cheekbones, the angle of his brows, and the point of his nose. There’s a certain sort of— of regality, he thinks? The elegance of an imposing statue, the saints of Notre Dame looking down from their pedestals as if asking, ‘how dare you insult me with your presence’. Shen Qingqiu lets his face fall into a neutral expression, and all it does is highlight the subtle condescension and complete disinterest his face naturally wants to make. 

In short, Shen Qingqiu has the meanest resting bitch face he’s ever seen on a thirteen year old. 

Even one who looks pointedly exhausted and like he went camping without a tent. His messy hair and the thin streaks of blood he hadn’t managed to crust off earlier does nothing to even dissuade such a look; it’s as if they weren’t even there. 

Experimentally, Shen Qingqiu scrunches his nose up, and his face reflects back at him as if he’d smelt something foul. Weird, he thinks, and keeps the expression still as he traces his fingers across the faint grooves of his skin. After a moment, he drops the look, and shifts his mouth into a scowl, just to see what it would look like. 

It’s about as vicious and as menacing as he was expecting. 

Then he smiles, and it looks painful. It looks, well, blatantly forced. The lips pulled too far back, his teeth showing too much, and his eyes squinted slightly and cold. As if someone had stuck their fingers into the corners of his mouth and forced him to smile rather than him doing it of his own free will.  

Immediately, he drops the smile and it folds back into its disinterested neutral look. I look like I’m going to eat a child, he thinks, probably for the best that I don’t smile. 

[voiceofthe]

princess concept i've been thinking about is like. let's just go all in on those options that are like "no i'm fine with the world ending." you go down to the basement and tell her that you were sent to kill her because she's going to end the world, and that's why you're going to get her out of there. the princess, momentarily shocked and wanting to protest, quickly readjusts to the idea. the narrator completely flips out and tries to take over as quickly as possible. i'm tentatively calling the chapter 2 of this the harbinger with a chapter 3 being the dawn

[h4n47105]

[ Intertwined Fates ]

Hi, hi!! I promised that I'll explaining more of the newest rosters in the Destined One's journey!! Take note that these OC' info/biodata can be changed and adjusted accordingly in the future (once I fully understand and watch BMW gameplay properly) But regardless, here are my so-called takes on the Six Eared Macaque's and the Red-Buttocked Baboon's 'destined ones' if they ever had one! Click [READ MORE] for the entire thing!

The Veiled One "Stoic and unflinching, the Veiled One carries himself with a quiet resolve, his words as measured as his blade is swift. Beneath his calm exterior lies a relentless purpose, though his heart holds compassion even in a world that demands its silence."

Name: "蒙面" (Méng Miàn)

Nickname: Miàn

Epithet: The Veiled One; Child of Fractured Eternity

Age: ???

Height: 182.88cm/6'0ft

"A soul bound by fate, yet defiant in spirit. The Veiled One seeks to shatter the celestial and mortal laws, to carve his own path through realms forbidden. Yet destiny is a prison with walls unseen—no matter how he struggles, his path coils ever closer to the mantle he rejects: the cursed legacy of the Six-Eared Macaque."

The Blazoned One "Proud and unrestrained, the Blazoned One strides forward with a smirk that challenges the heavens themselves. Arrogant and flamboyant, he revels in taunts and tricks, turning every encounter into a spectacle—but when his amusement wanes, his wrath is swift and unforgiving."

Name: "炽耀" (Chì Yào)

Nickname: Yào

Epithet: The Blazoned One; Bearer of the Tarnished Flame

Age: ???

Height: 182.88cm/6'0ft

"Wrapped in pride, the Blazoned One carries the weight of a legacy shrouded in uncertainty. Echoes of a legendary ancestor linger, yet doubts whisper of a cowardice hidden beneath the surface. Was the Red-Buttocked Baboon truly a hero, or merely one who retreated when the tides turned? In the aftermath of fallen brothers and forsaken vows, he stands, torn between a glorious facade and the shadows of unspoken truths."

[seo-changbinnies]

countdown to lixie’s bday

↳ d-2: felix x dragon age