#a rare soft lor

[spidersiren]

❝ i'm grateful to you for thinking of me. ❞ says @faithleapz.

this isn't easy for the siren. hearing the words alone would be enough to make her run, slip out from under him and leave his head pillowed by the couch instead of her thighs, but he's coupled his words with a look so soft it could melt glass.

lor wants to run. normally, she would.

but the bump on his head looks red and painful, and her fingers have already numbed from holding the pack of frozen peas. she wishes she could numb her heart like usual, right now. instead, it thrums treacherously.

❝ yeah, yeah. ❞ it comes grumbled, but without any heat. absently, she's stroking her fingers through his hair and has to stop looking at him because it's too much. she feels exposed. her thumb brushes against his forehead. ❝ can't you just sleep ? i'm putting on jersey shore. ❞

[frost-queen]

Don't ever dare (Fem!Reader x Lorraine Moran)

Requested by: Anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn

With the window slightly down the wind played with Lorraine’s hair. Her hand resting gently on your lap. Your hands were sturdy on the steering wheel trying to pay attention to the directions. Lorraine seemed to care little for it. Simply enjoying the drive in her own little bubble. To her it felt like a dream. Wind in her hair, the radio playing a sweet song and her hand on yours.

“Lorraine can you check whether it was left or right?” – you asked her keeping your focus on the road. When Lorraine didn’t respond you called out her name. Lorraine hummed loud as if being woken up from a dream. – “Left or right?” – you asked a second time. – “Oh.” – Lorraine released her hand from your lap to reach for the map on the dashboard.

“A bit quicker love.” – you told her already haven slowed down to make sure you didn’t miss the direction. You hated being lost. Lorraine checked the map letting her finger trail the lines. – “Left!” – she called out pointing in the direction. You stepped on the gas, taking the left turn. Lorraine got pushed back in her seat with a loud huff.

She glanced your way with brief shock yet after seeing the focus in your eyes, she curled up a smile. You were still focusing on the road when you felt a touch on your chin. It made you hum confused, turning your head quick to her. Seeing her smile made you furrow your brows. – “What?” – you questioned switching your gaze from her to the road. – “Nothing… I was just reminded of how much I love you.” – She answered.

It took you a second to get it in your head before chuckling. – “You are weird Lorraine.” – you teased her. Lorraine placed her hand on your lap once more. – “And that is why you married me.” – she spoke leaning in to leave a fluttering kiss on your cheek. – “Lor I’m driving.” – you told her keeping the wheel steady.

“But do it again.” – you told her. Lorraine gave you another kiss against the cheek as you asked. Lorraine then let out loud breath, admiring the scenery. Wondering how lucky she was with you. Marrying the one that instantly believed in her.

You pulled over on the gravely path that led up to the house. The house looking ominous between a forest of trees. Lorraine and you got out at the same time. Lorraine took a deep breath looking at the house. – “Hey!” – you called out making her turn her head to you. – “You tell me when you sense something, understood!” – you made clear. Lorraine nodded with a warm smile of your protectiveness.

Lorraine and you went up to the house when you suddenly felt something at the back of your head. Like a little stone flicked at your head. – “Au.” – you said rubbing your head confused. – “What is it?” – Lorraine asked worriedly. – “Something hit my head!” – you let her know looking annoyed around. Lorraine lowered your hand to look at your head. Giving it a soft blow of her breath.

“There love. All better.” – she spoke. – “Probably some annoying kids.” – you mumbled taking her hand. With one last glare over your shoulder you went up to the house with her. As usual Lorraine and you were welcomed into the house. Asked a set of questions. Had a look around and talked to every family member separately. It being the first day, you knew you rarely had any activity if their claims were true.

Lorraine and you made it back to the motel you were staying. You joined her on the porch, moving your arms around her waist. Lorraine inhaled deeply when you kissed her neck. – “Everything alright love?” – you asked. Lorraine hummed soft with a soft nod. She moved her hands on top of yours around her waist. – “I always am when I have you in my arms.” – she teased making you chuckle.

Lorraine turned round letting her hand brush against your cheek. – “I am so happy with you.” – she spoke. You took her hand lowering it. – “You say that every day.” – you reminded her. – “That is because it is true Y/n.”  - she responded with a faint smile. – “I wouldn’t know what I would do without you.” – she breathed out. – “Miss out on all the love I give you.” – you answered taking her hand.

Bringing it up you gave her body a little nudge so she would twirl underneath your arm. It made her giggle as you took her by the waist. Rocking her body against yours in a dance. Lorraine laughed loud when you started to dance with her. No music, no watchers, just her and you. Dancing with all the love you had for each other. Ending it with a loving kiss.

The next day Lorraine and you were back at the house. You walked up to the house once more hit in the back. This time you felt the impact. As if a bigger stone got thrown against the back of your head. – “Au!” – you called out rubbing your head. You looked down seeing a rock on the ground the size  a golf ball. Your eyes widened seeing a spot of red on it. – “Am I bleeding?” – you yelped out. Lorraine’s eyes widened as well seeing the blood speck on the rock.

She immediately turned you towards her, having a look.  She felt around and indeed her fingers were wet with blood. – “Y/n!” – she panicked. – “It’s fine… I’m fine…” – you told her touching your head. Feeling the slight sting of pain. Finger tops stained with your blood. – “Let’s get you inside.” – Lorraine said taking you by the arm. The two of you walked up to the house. Jumping back when a rooftile dropped at your feet. If Lorraine hadn’t pulled you away, it would’ve hit you on the head. Both of you stared in shock at the roof tile.

“It appears someone doesn’t appreciate my arrival.” – you joked trying to find the humour in it. Lorraine slapped you against your arm. – “Something is trying to hurt you Y/n! We must be cautious.” – she filled in with worry. – “Let them try!” – you shouted loud throwing your first up to the sky. – “Y/n!” – Lorraine shouted pulling your hand down. – “Do not tempt them! They are more powerful than you know.” – Lorraine was glaring at you for attempting to mock them. – “I’m just showing them I’m not backing off.” – you told her.

Lorraine sighed soft. – “Let’s… let’s just not upset them.” – she asked hoping you wouldn’t taunt them more. Knowing how brave you were. Not backing down when some spirit or demon would taunt you. You were always ready to fight them, especially to keep them away from Lorraine. She so hoped you would keep it down. Stepping over the fallen roof tile you entered the house once more.

A different atmosphere hanging around. Yesterday it was still light-hearted. Now it felt heavier. The air harder to breath in. The owners sat in the living room with Lorraine. You stood up right behind her, observing. Watching how she talked to them and sensed her way through. 

A sound caught your attention, making you turn your head. Something had been knocked over and you wanted to investigate it. Seeing how Lorraine was still occupied, you decided to go on your own. Leaving the living room you looked around for any clues to what could’ve fallen over. There was another sound drawing you closer. It appeared to come from the basement.

Without any further thought you opened the door. A dark gaping hole staring back at you. You felt at the side for a switch when there was none. So in the dark you went downstairs. Feeling the railing as you went down. Step by step. The darkness swallowing you whole in it’s mouth. Down below it felt cold. So cold your breath formed in front of you. Finding steady ground you moved more to the middle.

Seeing the faint flicker of a metal cord in the darkness. You reached for it, feeling it in your hand. Your breath shuddered as it felt like a presence was behind you. With one hard pull you lighted the small lightbulb above your head. The basement lighted up. It looked less scary in the light. You looked around for anything of significance.

Spotting a few cardboard boxes you knelt down. Moving some old stuff out of the way to reach them. Some had specks of mold below on the edges. You carefully opened one flap of the cardboard box feeling a tingle go up your spine. A cold rush giving you a fright. Sensing something in the corner of your eye, you slowly turned your head. Before you could see it fully a brick got flung at you. Hitting you square in the head, knocking you out.

Your body fell sideways to the ground. Out cold. Upstairs was Lorraine listening to the couple suddenly noticing you were out of her reach. Turning her head with a frown, she wondered where you went. Till a chill went down her spine, making her gasp loud. A grasp of cold wrapping around her throat. It made her jump up. – “Y/n!” – she started calling out.

Taking a run for it she searched around till she noticed the open door to the basement. Her heart dropped feeling something was wrong. – “Y/n!” – she screamed out, running down the stairs. – “Y/n!” – Lorraine panicked nearly missing a few steps. Lorraine came to the basement in full darkness. – “Where is she!” – she called out looking worried around. – “Where is she!” – she screamed out demanding to know where you were. It was clearly taunting with her as she heard a bellowing laughter.

Lorraine revealed her cross necklace. – “You will not have her!” – she yelled holding it tight in her hands. Closing her eyes she thought deep about you. Letting her love for you guide her. Lorraine took a deep breath, taking a few steps. She flicked the lights on having found the metal cord. The lights flashed on as her eyes widened. – “Y/n!” – she screamed going up to you. She dove to her knees pulling onto her lap. Seeing the head wound on you made her scream loud.

She straightened her posture, hardening her expression. – “This will be the last time you taunt anyone. I will cast you from this world and I shall do it with a smile. You hideous creature! I will make sure any existence of you is wiped off this earth.” – she bellowed. The basement felt like shaking. The metal cord bouncing around as dust flew down from between the creaks on the ceiling. – “Lo…Lorraine.” – you slowly gained conscious, waking up.

Lorraine looked down at you with a yelp of relief. You pulled yourself a bit up. Lorraine let her finger brush over your wound. You kissed her hard to cancel out the shaking. Lorraine kissed you hard back wishing for it to go away. The shaking slowed down till it eventually stopped. Lorraine and you pulled away. – “Come for me or my wife again and you will burn for eternity!” – you called out, taunting the demon.

This time Lorraine didn’t discipline you on it. Rather she joined you, calling out her own warning. For if it ever came for you again, it would regret it.

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[pencerism]

i made a better reference for my ugly stupid billspence lovechild (non derogatory)

MAX LORE MAX LORE MAX LORE MAX LORE MAX LOR MAX LORE M

its kind of a lot sorry i love posting my headcanons

its a little fucked

--

bill had an extremely hard time raising max

he didnt want a kid at all but really loved spencer, who wanted to keep it. he didnt wanna leave him, so he forced himself to try and get used to life being a father. he went to every appointment with spencer, he was out shopping for baby clothes and shit. but he hated it. he thought it was a waste of his time

when max was a kid, he rarely spent any time with him, only doing things he absolutely had to do. he still wanted to try and help Spencer raise him, but his anxiety and thinking that he'd fuck up his development really just caused him to be distant

he didn't want to hurt max, but he failed to realize that him being so distant from max made him this way. he began to get aggressive with bill in every single encounter, and their arguments will always result in max going back to his room and slamming his door

bill saw his old self in max, which lead to himself becoming hostile with him. he didn't want to have max do something like anything he did when he was a teenager. whenever max displays the same actions as bill did when he was a teenager, bill gets incredibly angry with him, trying to resort to a harsh punishment before spencer puts him in his place

bill himself grew up with a horrible father (me omw to make more depressing headcanons) and he saw himself slowly becoming his dad. and thats the thing he hates the most. part of him feels like max will become exactly like him, and that its already too late to make a positive impact on him (he's 16)

spencer isn't afraid to show that he loves his son more than anything. he tries to spoil everything he can for max, and is incredibly soft towards him

bill thinks showing any affection to his son would make him look weak. he's never once said "i love you" to him

bill and spencer's opposite parenting skills are a common topic for arguments. bill loathes getting into arguments with his husband and son, but his severe anxiety in being seen as "weak" for backing down when spencer criticizes him or when max does something that reminds him of himself stops him from showing that

melody?? oh,, melody

idk if i want max to have a sibling after writing this, i might change her design and make a second sibling or maybe a cousin to bill. i wanna make headcanon designs for his parents, too.............at some point

[simpforboys]

possibly a fic or headcannons of neteyam x chubby!omatikaya reader?

neteyam x chubby!na’vi!reader

i feel like he would absolutely love it omg

na’vi are born very slender (slutty lil waists it is UNFAIR), but seeing you with a different body type was something he adored

it was so refreshing for him to see your body

he loves loves loves feeling you against him when you cuddle

there is just more to hold on to

and he literally loves it so much

if anyone were to ever say anything he would quite literally fight them (we all saw him winning that fight in twow)

but since he is the mighty warrior, it was very rare someone said anything about you, the future tsahìk

he loved seeing how full your body was. your hips, belly, thighs, ass, tits, etc. i just cannot explain it

i feel like lo’ak would accidentally say something backhanded and neteyam would curse him out like no other

can see neteyam as a thigh guy. he just loves them, they’re so soft

you are literally like a breath of fresh air to him

if you ever had doubts about your body, he would always reassure you of your beauty and how much of a badass you are

he is your #1 fan fr

“i do not feel beautiful today”

“you are beautiful everyday, ma y/n”

he loves having his hands on your hips

“you are always touching my body”

“because i love it so much. i love you so much, lor (beautiful)”

[pitgritted]

➤                                          𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 ? RULES [ … ] Bold what applies most. Italicize what sometimes applies. Add some elaboration for the decisions made if you’d like! Repost do not Reblog.

▌ 𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑬𝑹 . [ ⟐ ]       jaw clenching, hands balling into fists, teeth grinding, yelling, going nonverbal, stuttering speech, rushed speech, slow concise speech, rambling, quiet, arms crossing, shaking head, tearing up, animated, expressionless, projects, internalizes, vents, withdraws, passive-aggressive, direct, physical outbursts, verbal outbursts.   ��       ➥ [  ..  ;  ] SETTRIGH is both bark & bite . generally , almost anything concerning his person , his momma , or his pit ticks him off . not to mention he's always forcing a ' toughened ' front & aggressive portrayal of power . this is typically his NORMAL way of portraying himself to others socially .

▌ 𝑱𝑶𝒀 . [ ⟐ ]       easy smiles, fighting back grins, suppressed laughter, loud laughter, giggles, chuckling, smirks, whole body laughs, covers mouth when laughing, throws head back when laughing, slaps leg, touches people around them when laughing, looks down when laughing, softly snorting, looks for eye contact when laughing, sparkling eyes, bubbly happiness, quiet subtle happiness, obnoxious happiness, wants to spread joy, quietly savors joy.           ➥ [  ..  ;  ] this is heavily reflected in LOR's ; GLORY OF NAVORI expansion of SETTRIGH & among other champs. although SETTRIGH would be laden with anger for the invasion of his pit, it's among the days he gets to feel genuinely happy & excited . but beyond that , it's rare SETTRIGH can feel emotion beyond his aggression . sure , he smirks & has bravado in every conversation he's in , but they're always in mockery of someone else or the person he's speaking to . also like to think his ears flick backwards sometimes when his eyes form into crescents - it shows his happiness is actually real ( also when you see all of his teeth ) .           ➤ excerpt [ ; set 7 - GLORY IN NAVORI ] ./ SETT, THE BOSS .                                         "Problem with bein’ the boss is, for most, ya get soft. Your own callouses start healing, and before long you’re what you swore you’d never be. So I'm grateful for all this chaos. Finally, someone's bringing the beast outta me!"

▌ 𝑺𝑨𝑫𝑵𝑬𝑺𝑺 / 𝑪𝑹𝒀𝑰𝑵𝑮 . [ ⟐ ]       bottling it up, seeks distractions, wallows, meditates & processes, avoidance, seeks out comfort, withdraws, talks it out, internalizes it, sad smiles, depression naps, uses alcohol, uses drugs, seeks out sources of joy, fidgets with sentimental item, sits in silence, broods, gets moody, wants someone to share the misery, tries to hide negative emotions, nurtures others to make themselves feel better.           ➥ [  ..  ;  ] SETTRIGH , as mentioned , has really really bad coping habits - mental illnesses do not help these factors . negative emotion beyond anger is fuel for him to be ever the more violent & prone to outburst . he heavily uses alcohol to make him forget or numb the agonizing feeling of guilt , shame , & what have you . he's a terrible decision maker under these conditions & will often times even use sex as a means of ' numbness ' & then following he's hunched over somewhere vomiting . SETTRIGH doesn't cry -- at least not in a way someone normally would . he doesn't shed tears , but he ' dry cries ' due to heavy suppression of emotion & forced to express himself as a MAN to not appear ' weak ' . his face is contorted into overstimulation & pain & he's raggedly whining & feeling like he can't take the amount of emotion he usually keeps pent up .           ➤ extra [ MAN OF THE HOUSE ] ./ this is wrought because of the fact he had to be the stronger person of his household at such a young age . not to mention , he was still young when entering leagues of pit arenas in ionia , getting into things he shouldn't asides from the bullying he & his mother endures . further making his personality aggressive & toxic .

▌ 𝑬𝑴𝑩𝑨𝑹𝑹𝑨𝑺𝑺𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑻 . [ ⟐ ]       shame, blushing, looking away, rubbing at back of head, covering face, laughing nervously, laughs it off, overthinks, lets it go, self-deprecating humor, deflects, gets irritated, smiles, withdraws, crossing arms over stomach, crossing arms over chest, hands in pockets, shoulders sinking, shrugs, falling into silence until comfortable again, talking a lot to compensate.           ➥ [  ..  ;  ] he hates being put on the spot for something he says or does . or simply whatever another person says or does in turn to him . his ears are a dead giveaway if his blush doesn't reveal it first .

▌ 𝑮𝑼𝑰𝑳𝑻 . [ ⟐ ]       avoiding eye contact, shoulders sinking low, head hanging down, crying, chest aches, lashes out, internalizes, apologizes, deflects, communicates, withdraws, grand gestures for forgiveness, accepts fault easily, punishes themselves, martyrdom, victim complex, over-active guilt complex, healthy conscience, internalizes even after forgiveness, seeking redemption, moves on easily, denial, lack of guilt/conscience, sorry they got caught more than caused harm, can’t handle knowing they hurt others.           ➥ [  ..  ;  ] this is simply just a more detailed version of his mental faculties & how he mentally packages his misfiring & upbringings as an excuse to not return sympathies to others . it's very rare he'll actually be the reassurer .

          ➤ tagged by [ : ]      @futureforged           ➤ tagging [ : ]     @windchaser , @agonizedembrace , @anomallis & @burntscars

[shiningdesignersreflections]

Chapter 3: Pearl of the Night

Narrated by Wenren Dian.

Narrator: The palace shines only brighter at night.

Narrator: The maids set countless lotus lamps alight. Beautiful dancers in their light veil dresses twirl to the pleasant, soft music.

Narrator: The partygoers all dressed in elegant outfits, decorated with fine gemstones and exquisite jewelry.

Narrator: The gourmet dishes served with rare wines set the scene for much laughter and enjoyment.

Narrator: Never one to enjoy scenes like this, I ask one of the servants to bring me Lor River City's past records for me to pore over.

Narrator: I can sense the Ocean of Memories from the mural. I just might be able to find hints from these records.

Queen Joyeux: Why are you not drinking, Sir?

Wenren Dian: I don't drink.

Queen Joyeux: What a bore, but do still join us. We always make sure our guests have a good time while they're with us.

Narrator: When I fall silent, she walks down to the dance floor and jerks the musician's pipa off his hands.

Narrator: It's then that I see the young girl in the Queen... one throwing a tantrum, that is.

Narrator: Free and wild, Lor River City's music is a far cry from Cloud's... it flows like a free stream and shines like the shimmering moonlight.

Narrator: Everyone is enjoying themselves, and I seem out of place as the only one who isn't enjoying himself.

Narrator: I see a guqin lying right beside me, its tassels trembling in the air. God only knows where the musician playing it went, though.

Narrator: I pick up the guqin and start tuning the strings.

Narrator: Her face red, the Queen appears tipsy. She stops dancing and starts playing the lute.

Narrator: And right away, she dumbfounds everyone and catches their attention.

Narrator: Her music, however, can't seem to conceal what's really going through her mind.

Narrator: The music is a reflection of the musician's mind, as they say, and it's obvious from the music that the Queen is feeling alone.

Narrator: Our performance resounds through the palace as everyone watches us playing.

Narrator: When we finish playing, people lavish their applause on us.

Narrator: The Queen's face has reddened further, although she hasn't drunk more. She smiles as she looks at me, apparently still engrossed in our performance.

Narrator: People come to give me a toast. Unable to turn them down, I pick up my books and sneak out when no one is looking.

You: These people are some heavy drinkers. Just how many bottles do they go through in a night?

Narrator: People here live in the moment because Lor River is no stranger to windstorms.

Narrator: The banquet may seem extravagant, but they only make it so because they know that their days are numbered.

Choose "What's going on?"

You: Why are they toasting you now all of a sudden? What's going on?

Narrator: People here use music to communicate their feelings, and the Queen uses music to choose whom to marry.

You: Uhh??

Narrator: Little did I know.

Narrator: Having left the banquet, I'm walking down a dimly-lit hall in the palace. Plants are planted alongside the hall.

Narrator: Burbling past slowly, a stream shimmers in the moonlight.

Narrator: The banquet is over. With a golden cup in hand and a smile on her face, the Queen walks up to me slowly.

Queen Joyeux: My palace is gorgeous, isn't it?

Wenren Dian: Lor River City is like a crystal ball sparkling in the desert.

Queen Joyeux: Lor River City is the one and only oasis that sits in the middle of a desert that reaches across a formidable distance.

Queen Joyeux: Such a paradise, however, is now at the mercy of windstorms with a worrisome future.

Wenren Dian: Lor River City's future is anything but worrisome with a competent leader such as yourself, Your Majesty.

Queen Joyeux: Aren't you lending me a helping hand?

Wenren Dian: Who am I to have a say in my capacity as a mere traveler?

Queen Joyeux: And who are you to not have a say? What's mine will be yours if you stay.

Wenren Dian: ...But I came only because I was enthralled by the mural. I thought Kalah was the god I had been looking for.

Queen Joyeux: Am I a joke to you?

Wenren Dian: Why do you say so?

Queen Joyeux: How could you call yourself a traveler and tell me that you're eventually going to leave me when you've proposed to me by playing the guqin?!

Wenren Dian: I... proposed to you?!

Narrator: And it hits me that I'm in the grip of a terrible mistake.

Wenren Dian: I didn't mean it that way. I only played along since I felt like it at that moment.

Wenren Dian: I'm still learning the ropes of Lor River's customs, and you have my apologies...

Queen Joyeux: Cut the nonsense! I'm Lor River's queen, and that makes me the crystal ball that shines the brightest of them all.

Queen Joyeux: You now have a chance to stay with this crystal ball. What's your answer?

Narrator: I say nothing, and by saying nothing I believe the Queen understands what I really want to say.

Queen Joyeux: Very well...!

Narrator: The brocade rug becomes stained with wine when the Queen throws her golden cup onto the floor and leaves with bitterness.

Narrator: The palace remains silent until a female officer walks out and announces...

Female Officer: Her Majesty has appointed Wenren Dian the Assistant Minister for the mural restoration project.

Female Officer: Wenren Dian shall be banned from entering Lor River City until the mural has been restored to its previous condition.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

[reticent-fate]

🐨🐦🦅

🐨 ⇢ Items in the innerworld ? can they be retrieved , do they have to be bought , do they have to be stolen , or can they pulled out of thin air , forged , or manifested ? etc

Depends on which part of the innerworld you're in. There are a few main areas, including the main Dreamglass, where items can be pulled out of thin air. Some members have more difficulty in the main innerworld, but it's easiest there. In other areas, items can't be so easily manifested, but so long as the area is being accessed in a capacity as part of headspace, it's usually possible to find objects of comfort at minimum.

Someone in back also briefly mentioned that we have a sentient sub-headspace in a Lor fictive that is able to synthesize food with zero limitation.

🐦 ⇢ Favourite places in the innerworld ? are there really beautiful terrains in the iw that are just jaw dropping , and are there such things as 'tourist attractions’ in the iw ? are there any iconic , famous , or otherwise well-known spots in the iw , are there specific restaurants , shops , malls , adjacents that are frequently talked about in the iw , how do they operate ? etc

There are a lot of weird places in the innerworld that count as famous. Hunter has his own place in the innerworld that's literally an endless warehouse, for example.

The most infamous non DG/oc location in headspace would probably be Thronespace, though, which is literally a dome full of darkness and glowing eyes/wings. It sometimes has a giant wooden throne, sometimes it has a giant princess bed.

In terms of places that are just beautiful (or favorite locales), though, it depends on who you're asking.

College Squad's beaches (which have a proper name I am redacting for their privacy) are particularly gorgeous, in my opinion. That spot of the innerworld is an island archipelago in the eye of an ever-whirling hurricane. On the rare occasions you can see the sun, it's got a beautiful sunrise and sunset. Still, its beaches are a soft, silky pink, and Ellia has some favorite spots on that island that she often reminisces about, considering it was her lifetime home.

There's also one location in headspace I just think is extremely funny, and that's a college dorm room that, as far as we can tell, has a bricked over door. The only way in or out is to wake up in or outside of it.

I think my favorite spot has to be the featureless meadow that connects most of our innerworlds, though. It's not pretty the same way the beach is, but it's got a serene, comforting atmosphere. Anytime I'm fronting there, it's a lot calmer than when I'm stuck, say, in Dorm Jail lmao. The grasses are soft like fur, and while there are areas short enough to lay down in them, you can see the breeze tugging the long tufts as far as the horizon. It's always sunset there, and the sky is clear enough to see the glittering stardust as blue fades to rainbow hues.

This all said, there is a restaurant I would love to find in headspace if it's possible to bring it here, considering I have fond memories of it. The point at which a fixture becomes part of headspace and not just innerworld set dressing is difficult to pin down, though.

🦅 ⇢ Communication in the innerworld ? how do sysmates communicate , is the innerworld relatively small or relatively big that effect the way the system communicates ? are there messaging apps , mail services or animal .. senders ? or is it easier to meet in certain places , or are there meetings in order to effectively talk to the system , are there video chatting platforms too ? etc

Our headspace is functionally infinite in size, even just counting the main DG area. It makes it Hell to communicate when there isn't anyone administrating communication. Even then, sometimes that shit just doesn't work.

DG administrators have innerworld magic, and that's the only real way they can manage communication between separate parts of the system that isn't administered through the presence of front (ex: we retain some information between hard switches, but only because it's close to front).

Considering the structure, we also don't regularly host meetings anymore because it's been over two years since we thought we had few enough members to do regular roll calls. We're a polyfragmented mess lmao, and there are areas of headspace most of us active members know we can't even begin to access right now.

This is all also ignoring the fact that the innerworld that is entirely mimetic of our original fiction is, uh. Active enough to regularly spit out new details that come with someone glaring at us inside the DG. Honestly we should just cave and call it a paracosm at this point but we would have to do more research on that term to feel comfortable with it lol.

Suffice to say, we rely heavily on communication through external means because of all this.

-Naaz (he/him)

[bartholomaus]

Sunt câteva - foarte puține - pășuni care au „colecții” frumoase de peri pădureți și peri comuni (domestici) în Transilvania. O astfel de pășune se află chiar în nord de Cluj-Napoca, lângă pădurea Hoia.

Scurtă notă istorică: perii (Pyrus pyraster forma sălbatică și mai ales forma domestică P. communis) au fost plantați pe pășuni în număr mare de la mijlocul secolului XIX (19). Pe atunci în toată Europa (zona de câmpie și de deal) părul era o „technologie” naturală inovativă de a crește productivitatea pășunilor (fructele fiind folosite de oameni și ca hrană pentru porci) și de protejare a pășunii de eroziune (deseori se plantau pe pante însorite, abrupte predispuse eroziunii).

Perii erau atât de prețuiți încât putem găsi reprezentări ale lor inclusiv în bisericile fortificate din regiunea culturală Săsească din zona Sighișoara (vedeți poza alăturată, este din biserica din Brădeni).

Exact așa cum au explodat perii în peisajele culturale, tot așa au și dispărut, practic în câteva decenii. Astfel la mijlocul secolului XX pășunile cu peri devin rare în Europa iar în zilele noastre în multe regiuni au dispărut inclusiv din memoria colectivă a oamenilor.

La noi încă există. Adevărat, contribuțiile arborilor (fructele) nu mai sunt apreciate în multe locuri. Astfel, perii sunt mărturie vie a unui sistem de valori și management a pășunilor din trecut, așteptând să se revitalizeze, redescopere valorile lor. Și într-adevăr, în multe țări Europene se redescoperă țuica de pere, evident, în formele ei light/soft, care se pliază cu societatea occidentală light/soft.

Ar trebui găsite soluții pentru a prelungi puțin persistența perilor în pășunile din Transilvania. Pentru că nu există îndoială, valorile lor vor fi redescoperite. Și să mai fie astfel de pășuni pentru acele vremuri când tinerii de azi care se maturizează în câțiva ani, să aibă opțiunea de a include perii în produsele locale. Astfel, dacă nu păstrăm perii de dragul perilor şi a istoriei măcar să-i păstrăm ca valori de opțiune pentru generația tânăra față de care nu-i așa, suntem responsabili. -- exista si alte cai de valorizare. daca vezi valoarea relationala a plantarilor (iesim sa plantam impreuna, ciar de 2-3 ori, plantarea ca hub de socializare, intarire a relatiei dintre oameni), vezi valoarea genetica, culturala, restaurativa. tot ce in contextul neoclasic este ineficient (ce usor cadem in gandirea inginereasca, care nu este rea, dar nici nu trebuie sa fie a tot puternica) devine oportunitate in paradigma noua ideea este ca fix asa cum noi rugam studentii sa-si foloseasca capul pentru a rezolva solutii neobisnuite pe care nu s-au dezvoltat proceduri clare, noi adultii trebuie sa avem acel style, eleganta, de a gasi solutii >Atitudine corporatist/inginereasca asupra omului: calculeaza limitele psihologice, fiziologice ale omului si maximizeaza utilitatea oamenilor (in a produce bani), inclusiv perioada de entertainment trebuie calculat (ca sa nu coste corpotratia, de exemplu, se mananca doar 10 min de la 14:00 la 14:10). Atitudine corporatist/inginereasca asupra arborilor: ...schimbati situatia de mai sus pe arbori... Deja sunt multi care cred, ca aceasta atitudine nu-si are locul. Nici referitor la oameni, nici referitor la arbori si natura in general. >>rasp: Atitudinea de a vedea natura ca pe un sistem de agregate care trebuie să producă bani, sau, în cel mai bun caz, ca un decor, este cea mai periculoasă atitudine. Singura soluție, este prin exemplu, de a căuta și compara rezultate. Dacă le explici biologic cât de dăunător este salcâmul ecosistemelor naturale din Europa, nimănui nu-i pasă. Trebuie căutat un efect care îi doare în mod direct. >Da, o axa este si axa durerii, sa zic asa. O alta axa, este si axa posibilitatilor (complementarea mantrei dominant-negative in ceva pozitiv). Valorile relationale gandite creativ pot fi catalizatori pentru creerea unor bright spoturi, pe axa amintita de mine mai sus. >Curatatul pasunii nu a fost singura activitate a sasilor cand au iesit sa curete pasunea. Evenimentul era facut in cadrul unor contexte de relationare. Cantat, ciupit fund (curtare), intarire capital social. >>Eu cred ca da, acestea se pot gasi foarte lejer. Cu o singura conditie, evident: mesagerul/negociatorul care merge la autoritati sa fie carizmatic, sa fie bun in aceste negocieri, inclusiv comportamental, cognitiv etc. Sa nu fie facut pe axa hiper activista, agresiva, descurajatoare. ---------------------------------------- Valorile relaționale legate de natură sunt exemplificate foarte frumos printr-o pictură din biserica fortificată Brădeni - Hendorf - Hégen. Smerenie, credință, identitate, recunoaștere, respect, spiritualitate. Toate reprezentate cu un „cadru” de peisaj care seamănă foarte mult cu o pășune cu peri. Natura înseamnă /sau poate însemna/ valori multiple: materiale, spirituale, experiențiale, emoționale, relaționale. Ceva frumos. Zic eu.

[desultory-novice]

For fun, please just rant about Marxolor, I actually enjoy reading what you've got to say !

...Anon! Let me offer you a digital, platonic, and utterly optional hug!

I get embarrassed sometimes, because while I enjoy "chaotic clown + evil egg boyfriends wrecking havoc on the peaceful countryside" Marxolor (and will draw it at the lightest of promptings) my main interest is in a Marx and Magolor who are soft on each other, a teensy bit romantic, and melodramatic as all get out. Part of the reason I joined the fandom is because I scoured the internet for serious rip-your-heart-out Marxolor content and didn't find enough. 

I worry there’s not a big fandom for angsty-feelsy Marxolor, but it’s where my heart lies atm, so I’m going to keep producing it.

Anyway, MARXOLOR TIME...!

...Hold up. Let me check the current word count on "Marionette's Pavane." ...Is 31,705 words a lot? Word tells me that's 75 pages (10 pt font, single-spaced.) I wrote nearly 32k words about them.

And I wrote 2,500 words about them here! Clearly I love them A LOT.

So, I obviously believe (strongly) they first met when a Pre-RtDL Magolor was just starting out with his plans for world domination and Marx had just exploded after MWW. I tend to see them as starting off with a bitter teeth-clenched/mutually-manipulative partnership. They're both frighteningly clever, and can immediately sense a kind of kinship in the other. They're both outcasts. They don't FIT IN with their respective societies. (Ignoring the fact that Magolor doesn't have one anymore, being from a dead planet.) 

They DO NOT open up to each other right away. In fact, they keep a frustrating amount of secrets from each other and seem ready to throw the other one under the proverbial bus if it gets them ahead. (Or would be funny - Marx) But Magolor has to have gotten the Lor up and running sometime before RtDL started and that's 120 energy spheres this tiny wizard has to find. Having a weird jester who is overflowing with some of the most powerful magi-technology the Ancients ever created is too tempting to pass up. And Marx thinks Magolor is FUN! A bit like a chew toy, but powerful relationships have started out from worse places! (Probably.)

The more they work together, the more they open up to each other, albeit, reluctantly at times. But enough of that rare vulnerability rubs off and they find themselves becoming...sympathetic to each other's plights. They who, up until this point believed very strongly in...

"...Screw the universe that screwed me over."

For Marx, it’s about being a misfortunate and accidental pariah to his own dumb species that he HATES anyway for being genetically programmed to be completely useless at absolutely everything! What kind of cruel cosmic entity would design a creature this way?! You expect me to live like this?!

For Magolor, it’s about being the very last (?) of his species, trapped on a planet that is a dead-ringer for LITERAL HELL, with no apparent way to escape the collapsing, burning hunk of rock except to lie down, accept his fate and DIE ALONE sheerly for the misfortune of having been born!

"...You hate the life fate stuck you with too...?"

But the one thing they don't hate, not anymore, is each other. Thank the stars, someone who understands!! They're both pretty bad at being "good" around good people, but they're slowly learning to be “good” around each other. They maybe even... :shifty side eyes: ...like each other. Which...eventually creates something of a problem...A very serious problem...

...Because as much as I personally want them to continue having fun and playing pranks, goofing off and occasionally being heartfelt with each other, CANON is creeping in and Marx CANNOT be there with Magolor when “Return to Dream Land” starts. And Magolor in “Return to Dream Land,” though hiding it behind a (hidden) smile, is a miserable and angry liar who will trample anyone, even those who reach out to him with nothing but kindness, to get what he (thinks) he wants: the power to control everything and...everyone...

Including the one who slipped through his fingers... ...while he was helpless to do anything about it...

Given my penchant for angst, I think you can imagine what -I- think happened to separate them. I want to save some stuff for when I actually get to that point in my comic but...I'll just say it HURTS.

"Magolor? ...Promise me...you'll live...okay...?"

AND THEN THINGS GET WORSE! ENJOY THAT MASTER CROWN, MAGS!

First, you lose your boyfriend in the worst way possible, then the thing you've set your sights on turns out to be massively cursed and scars you badly; mentally, emotionally and (HC) physically! 

But hey, at least you lived!

Marx comes back, because he kind of has to, canonically (I have a solution) and things with them are a mess for a while, just because Magolor is only recently freed from a period of extended and brutal torture, and Marx is FAR from a licensed therapist (or even that good at emotional intricacies...) 

But they were the best thing in each other's lives. Especially now, after the whole "things get worse" part happened. They might not heal the “right” way or the best way, but they are the best suited to lick each others wounds - and occasionally scratch and reopen those wounds. But sometimes you need to talk about the painful, hurtful stuff or you'll never clear the air.

...

I hate “the story ends at ‘Happily Ever After’” by the way. Or whenever the couple confesses their love, then beats up the bad guy/saves the day. Life is beautiful, but it is SOOO much more complicated than that. So is love. Fairy-tale/romance movie “True Love” is to me a very...unfortunate idea. It leaves no room for accidents, mistakes, or bone-headed decisions. You must always be in love. Always thinking about your partner. It’s seemingly always about the courtship phase and never the REALLY hard moments. Those stories don’t ever tell you it’s okay if on this particular day you don’t love your partner because you’re Trying to Fix A Complex Legendary Artifact and Can You Stop Throwing Beach Balls at Me Marx, I Already Told You It’s Not Funny! (”That’s only because YOU forgot about our promise to crash Castle Dedede tonight, Magolor!” “You could have just told me.” “You never told me you forgot!”) So, “A love both partners care enough about that they are willing to fight to make it work” is, to me, far better and more respectful of the everlasting journey toward understanding that is love.

...

Back to Marxolor...!

So, while I imagine Marx and Magolor "fell in love" (or at least became inseparable QPR life-partners) pre-game, my strongest Marxolor feels come from everything I want to see happen to them post-game. They've both suffered serious trauma, but that in no way invalidates their ability to love each other. (I don't HC either as being aro necessarily, but I do see them as ace.)

If anything, they're so strongly bonded to each other, they would probably do WORSE things than either did in their respective games to anything that seriously threatened to tear them apart. Not to say they NEVER give each other breathing room, as that's not great for healing either. Magolor still likes to tinker with things alone, and Marx has a love of performing in front of a crowd. But their relationship with each other eclipses all others at this point. So Marx will sneak in sometimes and watch Magolor quietly, and Magolor will find himself sighing and leaving his ship to see what Marx is up to.

While their relationship started on Halcandra, their current “home” is definitely Popstar. Though any time you can't find them there, they're probably off having adventures on the Lor (...and slowly getting themselves banned from every planet in the galaxy...)

Magolor really couldn't stand being isolated on miserable, deadly Halcandra for his entire life and wants to see the galaxy, even if he isn't in a position to rule it anymore. ("Ruling the galaxy" was a corrupted version of something he no longer wants/needs anyway.) Marx has calmed down a little, as far as complaining about Popstar's annoying, sleepy, goody-two-shoes lifestyle, especially after he and Kirby finally became friends, but he still has a boredom meter that creeps up whenever things get TOO stale.

Magolor didn't start out life with the incredible power of the Master Crown, but I HC him as keeping access to everything it (forcefully & painfully) unlocked in him after the incident. My Magolor pays in blood for that power, but once he gets it, and is able to emotionally divest the power from the pain, it's his to use. (See, Star Allies Magolor.) Marx is still kind of a mess in regards to what parts of the Nova's power HE can access after the dust has settled; his main focus is on being able to control his own shift in and out of his transformed state at will (see the adorable way he seems to accidentally “pop” into his transformed state, only to “shake it off” during one of his Star Allies idle animations.)

Edit: We now know, post-remake, that Magolor fought his own way out of hell, but during that long decade of speculation as to how he could have survived and came back? My favorite wild guess was always that Marx had something to do with it.

I wanted it to be Marx so bad! I mean, Marx is perfectly equipped to save him! Shoutout to Dinoburger's really great Marx and Magolor animation because it was very close to what I had been thinking of...!

Do you want a little more pain, btw...? 

...Well, I also take the span of time between Super Star Ultra and Return to Dream Land literally. Meaning Marx has been dead for 3 years when he finally gets to see Magolor again. Magolor has equally been without Marx, unable to find any closure, utterly unable to move on, for those 3 years...!

Let's seeeee... 

Oh... D-does anyone want a brief bit of fanfic?? :nervous:

Like, a lot of the above leans heavily into “Marionette’s Pavane” territory, which is all written in script format. But on a lark, I wrote just ONE MariPav scene in prose format. About Marx and Magolor’s “return” to Dream Land. Where Magolor (in Marx’s POV) confesses what it was like to be “crowned” to Marx...

<Warning for PTSD and...other bad stuff...>

----

Kirby and the others stepped away for a moment. Magolor smiled and waved until they were out of sight. Even after they were gone, he kept smiling.

"Magolor?" He neither looked at me nor said anything. His golden eyes were fixed on that green, green horizon where the spring breeze always blew. 

"...How are you holding up?" I asked him. "Yesterday, you were..." I let my voice trail off there. If he wasn't as bad as yesterday, that should have been a good thing. So why didn't it feel right? Magolor turned to me slowly, that unchanging smile looking more and more unnatural.

"I feel like..." He started slow, his voice still and even; completely without emotion. "...anything and everything that touches me...is trying to claw into me...to rip me apart from the inside. And yet..."

His hands twitched, the movement softened by his gloves. For an instant, I saw that fake smile fall away. He immediately covered both face and eyes with his hands. Only a sliver of gold emerged from beneath them. "...And yet, the absence of anything is...somehow worse."

"The Crown..." Damn the thing. Damn the way his light, musical voice became hollow when he spoke of it. "It...got inside of me. Made itself a part of me. Bent and twisted me until I was...a part of it. And..." 

"It..." his voice broke into something strange and sad, "...hurt me..."

He pressed his shaking hands hard into the sore crown of his head, as if mimicking the possessive fit of the artifact. I had tried to imagine the horrors it subjected him to. The loss of control. Of being used like a puppet against your will, your mind free only to watch - but he'd never mentioned the damned thing had physically hurt him!

"...It hurt me so much...and for so long...I think I’ve forgotten what it's like...to not be in pain. That's why..." His hand shifted to reveal a golden eye wavering with doubt, "...I keep thinking it's still there, waiting to tell me it's not over..." 

He squeezed that single eye shut, as if even the ever-gentle light of Dream Land was too bright for him. "...Marx..." His voice through his gloves was a whisper. 

He loosed a hand from his head, casting it out vaguely, looking for something his shut eyes didn't see. He was looking for another hand, I realized quickly. A hand to help. A hand to stop him. A hand to pull him from the darkness. "I need to know this isn't an illusion. Prove to me it's real? Prove to me...you're really here...?"

He was looking for MY hand. Had been. All this time. 

And I hadn't been there...

----

...Things DO get better after this...!!

----

Fluff Side Bonus:

So, yeah...That was a brief (???) look into my very angsty take on Marxolor.

But it’s generally confined to my gijinka versions. When I write them as orb-shaped skrunklies, I tend to treat them a little differently! 

THIS Marx and Magolor MAY have known each other pre-RtDL, but they are just as likely to have met one day when they each happened to break into Kirby's house for mischief on the same lazy afternoon!

““Who are you?!”” “I’m Kirby’s rival!” “You don’t LOOK like King Dedede.” “And just who are you supposed to be, huh?!” “I’M Kirby’s BEST FRIEND.” “Yeah, sure, okay, ‘Waddle Dee.’” :glare: :glare: “...Is that cake?” “Yes, it is! I stole it out of Kirby’s fridge. Want in?” “Stolen...? That makes it even better! Gimme a slice!”

Or maybe they met for the first time in Star Allies and realized they've got so much in common, so many stories to share, growing close from there!

My orb-shaped Marxolor is WAY more chaotic. They laugh a lot more. They're more cartoonish and tease each other way more, but they are still sweet on each other, just in a slightly immature "yank your pigtails because I love you" way. 

They ALSO find themselves always ending up together, no matter what happens. It's not planned on their part, though Marx will find himself "randomly" going to see what Magolor is up to. And despite Magolor complaining that he needs to outfit the Lor with Marx-proof locks, he wouldn't really want to keep the jester away, because...well, he's got no explanation for it.

This Marxolor has no strict timeline or 100% defined relationship, and so varies between actual "I love you, you stupid idiot!" Marxolor to more canon-compliant  "...not THOSE TWO clowns again..." Marx + Magolor. 

My gijinka Marxolor starts out as Marx + Magolor, is verrry slow burn, takes forever for them to actually admit anything, but end up strongly romantic.

[spidersandtomatos]

People Change

small one shot for the Childhood friends AU I have going.

“Call it a hunch..” small hands held his “But I have the feeling that we’ll meet again someday, until then please be patient!” he could swear he saw those soft pink eyes watering before the much smaller astral left.

“so you have been waiting for how long?, 1000 years??, 10000?” Captain Vul asked Meta Knight who was absentmindedly staring at his coffee mug “I don’t think this kid is coming back Meta”

“maybe it’s for the best” the knight mumbled “they were a time traveler… and I saw Halcandra now, either they are very old and don’t remember me anymore or they are dead”

“jeez, are you always this negative?” the old man gave him a look before his mind processed the time traveler part “Wait!, time traveler?!” he laughed amused as he placed his empty mug in the sink “don’t tell me bought that, sounds like the little one read way too many scifi books to me”

“you know, I had my doubts back then but I remember a dimensional rift opening high up in the sky in the same direction they left…that was enough to convince me” Yellow eyes looked at the window recalling that moment “it was a frightening sight to behold, never seen a rift that size since”

“You only agreed to help that evil catboy just so you could meet your childhood friend didn't you?” 

Not entirely, it’s true when he saw the Lor’s screen filling with the same ancient runes Aeon used to write in he felt a little hope that the strange Halcandran would take them to his home planet but he had also caved at Kirby’s pleas to help Magolor, deny it as he may the truth is that he had a soft spot for the little pink child.

“partially and Kirby better not hear you call Magolor evil, they already buried the hatchet long ago” he took a sip of his coffee “like I said already, I think it’s for the best for us to not meet again”

“hm?, thought you said you liked them” the old man leaned against the sink, seeing his superior opening up was a rare sight, suffice to say he had an easier time doing it with Sailor Dee than him.

“the truth is, I'm not the same person I was as a child” Meta Knight closed his eyes. He is seeing an adult version of Aeon with their back turned on him or at least what he thinks they may look like, long soft wavy locks of deep pink cascading their back, they would probably still be shorter than him, they were frail looking as a child “it’s dumb to assume they aren’t an abysmally different person now than they were back then, I may….” he hesitates for a moment as the figure of his friend turns to look at him, their expression is unreadable as their piercing pink eyes look at him “...I may fear that we have grown apart, I know it’s something that happens with these types of friendships and yet…I want to believe even if we were separated for so long that nothing would change between us”

he was certain his heart would break if they were to let go of their friendship so he simply did what he was best at: ignore and bury his anxiety deep down until it bursts up, future Meta Knight can deal with it. Right now it was way too early in the morning for him to worry about anything that wasn't trying to function because stars know he wasn't a morning person. 

“you know, your aren't doing yourself any favors by thinking of the worst case scenario” Vul said as he started leaving the kitchen “take a page from Kirby's book and instead start thinking about where to start when you two catch up after all these centuries”

Meta knight was left alone with his thoughts. 

I wonder if they miss me as well

He shook his head and got up, stop thinking about it, you always get depressed when you think about it!. He held Galaxia and resolved to just go outside and give her some well deserved maintenance, she needs it and he needs a distraction. 

What he wasn't expecting as a distraction were the purple hearts raining from the sky. 

[dcviated]

reaching out prompts || [ open ]

@nobleburn​ and @eliteimperialism​ sent:  [ NEW MUN ]

for the mun to talk about a recent new mutual they’ve begun to follow, why they followed them, what drew them to their blog, etc.

This prompt is rough for me, because of how damn rare it is for me to follow people nowadays. I’ve got so much going on with my current mutuals that seeking out new ones feels disingenuous. That said, here’s a couple.

@inxtricabilis​​ !!!

Mayz is great, their affection for their fandoms and muses was refreshing to see. I swear I’m not biased due to their RF appreciation, I only knew about it after we were mutuals! I found them first on their FE blog where they write the pegasus trio from the (for US fans) OG GBA game. Actually they followed me first, and quickly engaged writing with a number of characters of mine and as I say, you get points for coming at me with ideas as well as my OCs. And with their cool OCs to boot!

They may be on a soft hiatus for the moment, but they’re a writing partner I will definitely try to hold on to. P:

I’m also mentioning someone else for the fuck of it, regardless of the fact we’ve been mutuals since February.

@sercphs​​ !!!

Neu is way younger than I expected, still throws me off. They’re also a honkai fan which isn’t that great (yeah), not to mention... wait I’m listing negatives when this should be a soft promotion, almost forgot!

I followed them originally as one of the like 4 LoR blogs on this website that seemed cool and invested. PM fandom has to stick together. From there it only expanded as I got introduced to their OC as well as other bits of the roster. I definitely appreciate that they have you covered with crossovers and whipping up really cool AUs and what ifs to suit pretty much everything. Still got a few things in the oven for what we’ll be writing together but I have a good appreciation for what we’ve been writing already. Here’s to even more, yeah?

[quotes-of-dreamland]

As someone who was thankfully asleep during the Favoritism Fiasco™, I'd like to lighten the mood a bit. Fluffy headcanons for your comfort characters, please? :) -Wisp

Mod Taranza: Taranza has a very soft and sweet singing voice. He shys away from doing it if he’s spotted, but if you hum or sing a song he knows, he’ll gladly sing along with you

Mod Lor: Nova is actually a very good storyteller; though he can’t exactly act out events, and doesn’t do a lot of exaggeration, he makes up for it by being very good with word choice and tone of voice. He can make almost any story seem interesting, usually through his own passion or interest in the subject, kinda like when a teacher’s lecture is actually good because you can tell they care about it. He very rarely gets the opportunity to show this side of himself, but Lor (and Magolor on a few occasions) has witnessed it several times since meeting him. Speaking of Magolor, he absolutely loves mint. Can’t get enough of it. It’s like catnip without the loopiness afterwards, and therefore nothing to tease him over should he... over-indulge. He keeps several mint plants in areas he frequents, such as the kitchen, Lor’s dashboard, and his room, and takes very good care of them with the help of his magic. As for Lor, she’s very good at singing lullabies, though usually she just hums them because very few people would actually understand the words nowadays. It’s a lot easier for her to sing in her original language, after all, but it just happens to be very, very old. She actually enjoys humming in general, though usually only does so when she’s alone due to past experiences in Halcandra.

Mod Susie: Jammerjabs don’t have much of a sense of individuality - they don’t have names, they don’t have preferred pronouns, they all look the same, and there are thousands of them scattered about the jambandra base. However, every rule has a few exceptions, and there are actually a few jammers that stand out from the crowd and as such, have nicknames: Ash, Damsel, Dusty, James, Jammie, Lily, Paladin, Scale, Smith, Soots, Tone, and Vex are all the named jammerjabs on board!

*Mod Skirby: Skirby and SDDD have a shared hobby of photography. Neither are really good at it and each like different subjects, but they both enjoy it. (Skirby likes taking pictures of scenery, plants, and bugs, while SDDD likes taking pictures of people, city scapes, and birds. They don’t like to talk about it out in the open though. (Skirby is nervous about sharing his hobbies, SDDD doesn’t want it to soften his image.) Bandana Moddle Dee: Bandana Dee and Sailor Dee are hiking buddies! Bandee will go hiking both to train stamina and to get away from work at castle Dedede, and Sailor tags along with him to collect flowers and leaves and twigs and things that he thinks look nice!! They also go to harvest fruits for pies and apple juice!!

[nalgenewhore]

every world and every lifetime

elide x lorcan, modern au, first ‘i love you’ fluff, word count: 2728

Elide looked around her parent’s house, miserably pushing her food around. 

She wasn’t hungry. 

Her eyes stung with tears as she saw her parents, Marion perched on the arm of Cal’s chair. Her mother’s arm was around her father’s shoulders and she fussed with his hair, smiling and speaking quietly to him. 

Suddenly, all too quickly, her heart squeezed painfully in her chest. Elide bit the inside of her cheek and sniffed, her vision blurring. 

It was so stupid. She was being such a coward. He was her boyfriend. She’d never cared about another person quite like she cared about Lorcan. She should’ve invited him to her mother’s birthday party. 

The cushion shifted when someone sat down beside her. Elide hastily blinked her tears away and looked up, smiling shakily at her father. “Hey, dad.” 

“Hey, kid,” Cal said, his kind eyes crinkling. He passed her a plate of miniature desserts, a collection of her favourites. “Saved ya some, gotta get it before these rabid animals.” 

Elide snorted and took the plate, choosing the brownie. She ate quietly, knowing what her father would ask her. 

“So, uh, where’s this boy of yours, hmm? Your ma was really lookin’ forward to meet him,” Cal said, watching his daughter. 

She mumbled something and put her plate down, toying with a rip in her nylons. Elide looked at her short nails, painted black and meticulously cared for. “I... I’m having some doubts about it an’... I didn’t want to invite him to this close family thing in case he says something like... I dunno, ‘I love you’.” 

He raised a brow, “And would that be so terrible? If this boy loved you?” 

“No,” she whispered. Elide looked up, her eyes red rimmed and watery, “I don’t think so.” 

Cal sighed as he stood up, his knees creaking. “Well, stop being a coward and call him, kid.” 

Elide huffed at him calling her a coward, but knew it was true. 

She stood up too and walked up to her bedroom. Elide slid her phone out of her zip-up sweater pocket and toyed with it. 

Entering her room, she perched herself on the edge of her bed and pressed on his number. 

The phone dialled and her throat tightened. 

“Hello.” 

“Lor, is that you? It’s... it’s me.”

“I know, Lee,” he laughed. It sounded like he was shifting from his bed and he groaned as he stretched, presumably, “What’s up, though? You said you were busy tonight.”

Elide glanced around as she steeled her nerves. “Are you- are you doing anything tonight? ‘Cause... it’s my parent’s- they have this- and it’s my mom’s birthday and we’re having this… party, so I wanted to invite you if you want to come tonight?” 

Lorcan paused, “Oh, yeah, that.” 

“What do you mean? Did you-“ her cheeks blushed furiously in self-loathing. “You know about it?” 

“Yeah, Rowan mentioned Aelin inviting him. I was... I don’t know, I guess I thought you’d invite me, but we haven’t even been dating that long.” His laugh was choked and unclear. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, princess.” 

“Wa-wait, I want to worry about it, I want- I want you here,” Elide stammered. “Please, come?”

For a moment, a long long long moment, Lorcan didn’t say a word. Elide swallowed, her stomach dropping. “I’ll come, El. Is there a dress code or whatever?” 

She grinned, “Nope, they’re pretty chill. But, maybe... more grunge than anarchy, yeah?” 

He chuckled, “Yes, ma’am.” 

“Good,” Elide whispered. “I’ll- we can talk, ok? Promise.” 

“Pinky promise?” 

She blushed, “Mm-hmm. Pinky promise.” 

They said their soft, stupidly in-denial-in-love good-byes and Elide hung up. The moment the call was over, her anxieties crept back in. 

Elide walked downstairs in a daze and stood by the table, her eyes nervously flicked between the door and the room. 

Aelin noticed her practically shaking and she snuck on over, “Hey, hon.” She tweaked something about Elide’s hair and smiled, “How’re you doing? You’ve been so quiet tonight.” 

“Oh, I- I’m fine,” Elide nodded, her voice teary. “I just-“ she sighed and collected herself. “I didn’t invite Lor ‘cause I didn’t want him to think it was too fast or too serious and then my dad called me a coward so I called him an’ now I’m just... I’m thinking I fucked up and maybe I’m ruining this? Like,” Elide swallowed, shaking her head, and laughed half-mad, “maybe he’s only coming to say that I fucked up too bad and he’s breaking up with me.” 

Aelin gave Elide a look and sighed, “Hon, you know I don’t like him, but I’ve never seen you two so happy. If - if Lorcan was going to break up with you, it wouldn’t be about this. Something would have to have been really, really fucked up for him to leave.” 

Elide huffed a laugh, “Ok… you’re probably right.” 

The blonde smirked, “I’m always right. Now, I’ve got to find Rowan. I’ll see you later?” 

She nodded, waving her friend off, “Yes, yes, go find your boyfriend.” 

Turning, Aelin called over her shoulder, “And good luck with yours.” She disappeared into the crowd, easily seeking her boyfriend, whose head was far above everyone else’s. Elide watched for a moment. Rowan turned when Aelin tapped his shoulder and smiled, leaning down to kiss her cheek. They looked so… happy with each other. 

They looked how Elide felt around Lorcan. Like how nothing else mattered and how she would damn the world for him. Elide walked into the kitchen, where the kitchen staff were busy cooking and prepping. She stayed out of their way and offered the few that noticed her a small grin. Elide pulled a bottle of beer from the fridge and quickly exited. The stash was her dad’s, but they both knew he stocked it for her to take on the rare occasions Elide even felt like drinking.

She looked around the party and cringed. There was no one here that she wanted to talk to. Through the large front window, Elide could see that the front porch was empty. That was probably because it was still relatively cold, but Elide would rather sit out in the chill than talk to any of her parents’ guests. Elide somehow managed to escape unscathed and sat on the porch steps, hidden from anyone’s casual glance. 

Elide twisted the top off and took a long sip of the cool drink. Her knee bounced uncontrollably, and she didn’t try to stop it. She looked up and down the street, waiting for his crappy little car. 

As she waited, Elide nervously picked at the bottle’s label with her thumb. She shivered, but didn’t care enough to move inside. 

Elide breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly, deciding to list the things she knew. 

One: Elide had never been as happy as she was with Lorcan. 

Two: Elide wanted to be with him for the rest of her life. 

Three: Elide loved Lorcan. 

Four: If she had really ruined this, Elide would never forgive herself. 

A black, 1995 Honda Civic parked across the street. Her throat ached with tears and her eyes stung once more. Elide’s breath trembled as a tall, lanky man stepped out of the car. His dark hair was half shoved up in a messy bun, the rest tumbling down his back. 

Lorcan looked up at her and nodded, his face impassive. Her heart clenched, even though she knew that he hardly ever smiled. He crossed the street without looking, putting his keys into the pocket of his lined flannel jacket. His coat was worn and the cuffs frayed. Elide liked to steal it and wear it. It was warm and smelled like him - cedar and sweetgrass. 

She stood up, leaving her half empty beer on the step. “Hey, you,” Elide said, trying to pass for casual. 

Lorcan walked up the stairs and stopped a few below her, still taller than her. His dark, hooded eyes sparkled with something and the corner of his lips quirked up, “Hey.” He lifted his hand, curling a strand of her hair behind her ear. “You–” 

“We-ell, lookie what we have here,” said a new voice. Annoyed, the couple turned, their brows lowered. When they saw Elide’s drunken uncle, Vernon, Elide shifted closer to Lorcan and curled her arm around his shoulder. “Oh, and you m-must b-be-” Vernon hiccuped, his eyes unfocused, “Lorcan. You know,” he began, stumbling closer to Elide. 

She flinched and Lorcan slid his hand across her lower back, fitting it around her hip. “Hello, uncle. Are you enjoying the party?” 

“Yes, yes,” Vernon slurred, waving his drink around and sloshing it over the rim of the glass. “I’ve been asked to leave. Apparently,” he chuckled humorlessly, “I was not invited! How ‘bout that, hmmmm?” 

Elide attempted a fake laugh, hoping he wouldn’t be able to tell. “That’s- that’s a shame, uncle. We’ll have to see you another time, then.” She looked at Lorcan, her eyes worried, “This is Lorcan, uncle. We’ve been… seeing each other for a couple months.” 

Vernon nodded dodgedly and addressed Lorcan, “Th-this one’s a handful, hmm? Never could listen to the simplest of commands, even as a child, could you?” He reached out to do something, maybe even pinch her cheek, but Lorcan moved her, lifting her onto the step he stood on. The heavily inebriated man didn’t notice the quick shift, nor did he notice the relief on Elide’s face as she did not dare look anywhere else except for him. “I didn’t- I didn’t think you were even gonna come, ya know.” 

Elide’s cheeks heated and she looked down at her feet. Lorcan’s hand squeezed reassuringly around her hip, “I was busy until now.” He moved to the side, leaving a path for Vernon, “It was nice,” Lorcan paused purposefully and looked Vernon up and down with disdain, “to meet you. Have a nice night.” 

The man staggered down the stairs and out of the front yard. Elide stayed where she was until he had disappeared down the street corner. When he had, she disentangled herself from Lorcan’s arms and stood in front of him, looking up at his face. 

He looked back at her, nothing, not a hint of emotion on his features. Elide took his hand and walked him to the swinging bench. They sat, his feet against the floor and Elide’s legs tucked beneath her. 

She let go of his hand, though Lorcan kept it on her thigh, and looked down at her lap, “So. Hi. I missed you.” 

Lorcan grinned softly and kissed the curve of her cheek, “I missed you too, Lee.” 

Elide smiled a small, constrained smile. “I’m really happy that you’re here and I’m… I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to come earlier. I- I thought- I was being a coward ‘cause I thought this was moving too fast and I was scared and I don’t care anymore and,” she forced herself to meet his eye, quiet joy shining there. “I love you.” 

Before Lorcan could say anything, before he could reject her, Elide stood up and hastily dragged her hand through her hair, “That’s all I wanted to say, so if you have any plans tonight, you can go.”

She squeaked slightly when Lorcan sharply tugged her back, making her land with her legs across his lap, “What–” 

“Princess, shut your yappy ass for once, would you,” he said, laughing quietly. Elide frowned at his words, but remained quiet, her eyes expectant. Lorcan’s hand rested on the crook of her neck and his thumb stroked over her jumping pulse. “I love you too.” 

Those words, those beautiful words, settled around her heart and Elide let her grin grow widely. She leaned in and kissed him softly, lifting her hands to cup his face once more. They kissed for a short while, his other hand gripping the side of her leg. 

She pulled away first and rested her forehead against his, her eyes still closed. “Do… do you want to meet my parents?” 

“Woah, woah, woah,” Lorcan joked, his tone teasing, “I think this is moving too fast for me, babe.” 

Elide rolled her eyes and got to her feet, holding her hand out to him. “Come on, dummy.” 

He grinned and accepted her hand. Lorcan slung his arm across her shoulders and kissed the side of her head as she led them into her parent’s house. Lorcan toed off his untied, beat-up and retro Jordans, and hung up his jacket. 

After, she walked them into the living room, their fingers laced together. She held onto his arm with her other hand and leaned her head against his bicep. 

Rowan and Aelin noticed them first and made their way over to the pair. Lorcan and Rowan did their secret handshake and chatted quietly as Elide nervously looked around for her parents. The two boys and Aelin chuckled at her obvious absence.

She didn’t notice it and when she saw her parents, Elide walked, hardly glancing back to see if he was coming. 

Lorcan laughed under his breath, “We’ll see you two later, I guess.” Aelin and Rowan waved them off goodnaturedly. 

Her mother noticed them first. Lorcan was almost taken aback at the similarities between Elide and her mother. They looked like twins, except that Marion’s face was matured elegantly, her eyes slightly more narrow than her daughter’s. “Hello, you two,” Marion said, patting her husband’s shoulder, “Callan, dear, look who it is.” 

Cal turned and smiled at his daughter, his brows raising slightly when he looked up at Lorcan. Her father was a relatively tall man at six-foot-four, but the difference was still quite significant. 

Without thinking, Lorcan turned to his girl and said, “How are you so tiny? Your dad’s tall, man.” Elide gasped in offence and pinched the underside of his arm, hard. Lorcan yelped, “Ok, ok, ok, Creator above, I’m sorry.”

She smirked smugly and turned back to her parents, who watched the scene in amusement, “Please ignore him, he thinks he’s funny. This is Lorcan, my boyfriend.” 

Marion and Cal arched their brows, laughing quietly. Lorcan reached his hand out to her mother, who accepted it and shook his hand, “It’s nice to meet you and happy birthday, Mrs. Lochan.”

“Oh, please, call me Marion. Mrs. Lochan is my mother-in-law,” Marion said. 

Lorcan chuckled and nodded his head, “Of course, Marion.” 

Elide looked up at him the entire time, knowing that her smile was smitten and ridiculous and not caring at all. As her father spoke with Lorcan, Elide looked at her mother and talked in Blackbeak, too quiet for either of the men to hear, “You’ll tell dad to not threaten him with gross bodily harm or death, right?”

Marion laughed, the sound tinkling and bright, “Your father knows we Blackbeak women can fend for ourselves. Besides, I think he’s half in love already.”

Elide rolled her eyes and looked at her boyfriend and father, their postures relaxed and faces happy. She snorted and hid the sound behind her hand, though Lorcan still heard it and turned to her. “Are you good?” 

“Mm-hmm,” Elide hummed. “Do you want some food? I haven’t eaten yet.” 

He nodded, “Yeah, ‘course.” 

They said their farewells to her parents and wandered off. 

“That went well, right?” Lorcan asked her quietly, his words… nervous. Elide hadn’t ever seen him nervous. 

“Yeah, it did,” she said. They passed by an alcove, and Elide pulled him in. It was a small bay window with a cushioned seat. 

She sat and pulled him down too, her knee against his thigh when she folded her leg up. Elide mindlessly fixed his hair, though it didn’t need fixing. “But, you know, even if it hadn’t gone well, I would still love you.” 

Lorcan smiled and gently kissed her, not caring that anyone could walk by and see them. “Really? What would make you stop loving me?” 

Elide hummed and thought for a moment. She pressed her lips to his again and murmured, “I think our story is a fated one, you know?” Her long lashes fluttered against his cheeks when her eyes fell shut, “I think I would fall for you in every world and every lifetime.” 

“Yeah,” Lorcan whispered. They drew back at the same time and pressed their brows together. He thumbed something from her cheek, “I think that too.”

☽ ☼ ☾

an: i wrote this last night and i wanted to post because i hit 900 followers today !! and im very happy and thankful for all of you - it’s been almost two years since i had this account and nearly two years since i started to write fic and there’s so many who i love so much that i never wouldve met without this so !! thank you !! 

@mythicaitt​​​ @werewolffprince​​​ @schmlip-scribble​​​ ​ @the-regal-warrior​​​ @ladyverena​​​ @ttakeitbacknoww​​​ @shyvioletcat​​​ @alifletcher2012​​​ @tswaney17​​​ @ourbooksuniverse​​​  @flora-and-fae​​​ @thesirenwashere​​​ @queenofxhearts​​​ @maastrash​​​ @mynewdreamwasyou​​​ @cursebreaker29​​​ @empress-ofbloodshed​​​ @b00kworm​​​ @hizqueen4life​​​ @silversprings98​​​ @amren-courtofdreams​​​ @minaidss​​​ @superspiritfestival​​​ @sanakapoor​​​ @ireallyshouldsleeprn​​​ @spyofthenightcourt​​​  @thegoddessofyou​​​ @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx​​​ @claralady​​​ @neonhellas​​​ @darlinminds​​​ @readingismyonlyhobby​​​ @autophobiaxx​​​ @silversprings28​​​ @myshadowsingeraz​​​ @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​​​ @elriel4life​​​ @always-in-a-daydream​​​ @jlinez​​​ @ladywitchling​​​ @mariamuses​​ @darklesmylove​​ @adelzd-bookblr

[sassyhobbits]

Could we have an oln extra from elorcan pretty please *doggy eyes*

it would be my pleasure ;)

this takes place about a year before the ons epilogue!!!!!

elorcan ons oneshot pt1

~~~

Lorcan Salvaterre considered himself to be a level-headed man. He had immense patience and rarely let his emotions, positive or negative, get the better of him.

That’s why it was so surprising that anxiety had been roiling in his gut for the past week.

In the two years he had been living in Terrasen, so many things had changed.

Aelin had given him a job in security at the palace and he had recently been promoted to the head. His relationship with Elide had been growing stronger and stronger with each passing day. They had recently moved in together, Elide moving away from her native Perranth to work more closely with her family in the capital.

Lorcan never would have expected that the chore of traveling to Terrasen with Remelle would lead to so many wonderful things in his life.

He knew that he was in love with Elide. It was like nothing else he had ever felt in his life. He had never cared for anyone the same way he cared for her. It only meant one thing.

Which was why he was anxious.

Lorcan held no doubts about the fact that Elide loved him just as he loved her.

Yet the idea of proposing to her was utterly terrifying.

It hadn’t been a dramatic moment when he realized he wanted to marry her.

It had been a lazy morning in the apartment, and Elide had started on some eggs. Lorcan remembered leaning back on the kitchen island, admiring how she looked in his shirt, her dark hair glistening in the golden morning sun. And… he had just known. That he wanted to marry her. It hadn’t felt like a new idea, instead something he had discovered deep inside of him, as if it had always been there. Elide was it for him, that he knew.

But to propose to her, he would first need to get a fucking ring.

It was much more daunting a task than he would have expected.

Lorcan didn’t truly have an eye for finery, he never had, but he knew Elide deserved the very best.

Which was why he was calling for backup.

He made the call as he was driving towards the palace for work, dialing the number of someone he knew would be there. The other line rang for a few moments, and Lorcan wondered if he wouldn’t answer. But, there was finally a click and an irritable voice barking through the speaker.

“What the fuck do you want, Lorcan?”

Lorcan couldn’t stop himself from grinning at Rowan’s anger. There were only a few times when his friend would give in to his frustrations.

“I’m sorry, was I interrupting something?” Lorcan asked coyly. Rowan had confided in him earlier that month that he and Aelin had finally decided to try for a baby. Which meant they were having a ridiculous amount of sex.

“You know you did, you ass,” Rowan grumbled. Lorcan heard a soft, feminine laugh from the background followed by the shifting of sheets. It seemed whatever had been happening was now over. “What do you want?”

Lorcan simply blurted it out. “I need to buy a ring for Elide so I can propose but I don’t know where to start.”

There were a few heartbeats of all-encompassing silence on the other end of the call. “Oh. Wow. That’s big news, Lor.”

“Yeah… but, are you busy today? Can you help?”

Rowan released a long sigh. Lorcan could practically envision him running a hand through his short, silver hair. “I would, but to be honest, I wouldn’t know what to do either. I didn’t even pick out Aelin’s engagement ring myself.”

Damn. Lorcan had forgotten about that. They were so damned in love with each other that it was easy to forget about the rocky start to their originally arranged marriage.

“But,” Rowan continued. “I know someone who could help, if you want to call in the big guns.”

“Yeah. Anything. I need to get this right. Elide deserves it.”

“Damn right. I’ll let her know.”

…

The big gun’s Chanel heels clicked noisily on the marble floor of the jewelry shop she had picked out. As princess, Aelin Galathynius held a lot of sway and managed to get them a private shopping appointment at the shop she insisted would have what he needed.

She had spent the morning and the entirety of the ride to the shop giving him a basic understanding of jewelry and what women wanted. He hadn’t even thought about how the band color should compliment skin tone or that there were better ways of cutting diamonds. Some women didn’t even want diamonds as the main stones. Aelin’s own was an emerald. It was far more complicated than he had hoped.

Lorcan had never really spent much time one-on-one with the princess, but he liked her well enough. Her attitude had grated him the wrong when they had first met, but it soon found out that she was actually a good person. Tough as nails, too. She would make a fearsome queen one day.

“I’m not going to pick the ring out for you,” Aelin said shortly, smoothing out her silk skirt. “Elide deserves better than that. But, I can point you in the right direction.”

“Whatever you say.”

The princess gave a curt nod and motioned towards a glimmering display, filled with stunning, beautiful rings. He watched as Aelin ran an expert eye over them.

“These are the best designers,” she explained. “The rings are beautiful and crafted perfectly. Quality. If you want to get Elide something nice, this is where you’d get it.”

Lorcan nodded slowly, looking back towards the countless rings. He felt his nerves build up again as he looked towards them, wondering how the hell he was supposed to know which one was the right one. He felt Aelin’s eyes skipping back and forth from the jewelry to him, and he had no doubt she had already decided which one Elide would like best. He didn’t know if he wanted to thank her or strangle her for not telling him which one it was.

Lorcan took a deep breath, trying to tame his pounding heart. He studied the rows slowly, attempting to find one that he knew would encapture the woman he loved. He was just beginning to think that it was hopeless, that he’d fuck it up no matter what, when his gaze finally caught on one.

It was made of a bright, gleaming silver that twisted gracefully, supporting an oval-shaped diamond. A few smaller diamonds embraced the middle one each side. It was simple, but elegant. Lorcan knew Elide wouldn’t want the ring with the largest diamond on it, wouldn’t want it to be too loud or ostentatious. But this… this was perfect. He could already practically see it perched on her finger.

“That one,” Lorcan said confidently, pointing towards the ring. “That one is perfect.”

He looked towards Aelin, finding her lips spreading in a slow smile. She gave a pleased nod. “That’s an excellent choice. Elide’ll love that one.”

It was in that moment that it fully settled on Lorcan that this was real, that this was happening. He was going to propose to the women he loved. And hopefully she would say yes.

“I’m happy for you, Lorcan,” Aelin said earnestly. “For some reason, your miserable ass makes Elide very happy, and I can see she does the same for you. I’m glad you found each other.” With that, her eyes narrowed slightly and she leaned closer, lowering her voice. “That being said if you hurt her, what I’d do to you would make what I did to Hamel and his men seem merciful. Understand?”

It was easy to forget that under that golden hair and pretty clothes, Aelin Galathynius was a certified bad-ass. One that even Lorcan didn’t want to get on the bad side of. Not that he would ever admit that to her aloud. It would make her already enormous ego that much bigger.

“Believe me when I say,” Lorcan began. “That I am going to do everything in my power to make Elide happy until the darkness claims us.”

Aelin seemed satisfied with that answer. “I do believe you. Now, let’s get that ring.”

…

Buying the ring was only half of the struggle. Now Lorcan had to figure out the best way to propose to Elide.

It was constantly on the back of his mind, no matter what he was doing. At work, in the shower, lounging around the apartment with Elide… it wouldn’t leave him alone.

Neither would Aelin fucking Galathynius. Every time she saw him in the halls, she would bother him with questions about it. Whether or not he had picked a time, or if he was ever going to pull his head out of his ass and ask her at all. It was annoying as hell. He wasn’t going around asking her every thirty minutes if Rowan had finally knocked her up. But… although she was mildly infuriating, it was somehow a pretty good motivator.

After a week and a half of the idea of the ring burning a hole through his mind, Lorcan finally decided it was time.

It was Lysandra’s birthday, and they had all gathered at the palace to celebrate with friends and family. It was a small, private affair, but it didn’t make it any less enjoyable. In fact, Lorcan preferred it over large parties any day.

They enjoyed a nice dinner, everyone wishing Lysandra a happy birthday. She was beaming the entire night with Aedion by her side. Their own wedding was only two weeks away.

Lorcan had struggled to pay attention to the others around him all evening. His attention had been pinned on Elide the entire time. She looked lovely tonight in a silky, violet top and high-waisted white trousers, dark hair falling down her back in a gleaming sheet.

If anyone noted his distraction during dinner, they didn’t say anything. By the time desert had been consumed and they had moved to the parlor for cocktailing, he was nearly jittery. Or as close to jittery as he would allow himself to become.

He had finished one drink before he decided it was time. He was done with playing around.

“Elide, love?” he murmured into her ear from where he was sitting next to her on the couch.

“Yes, Lor?” she asked, turning towards him. Her fair cheeks were flushed from either the wine or laughing with her friends, dark eyes practically sparkling with happiness. The sight made his heart swell.

“Will you come with me for a bit?”

Elide raised a dark brow in question but nodded, placing her glass on the low table before her. Most of the room was too lost in conversation to notice them slipping quietly away, but Aelin’s sharp eyes landed on him. She was tucked under Rowan’s arm, lips spreading in a slow, knowing smile. As soon as Elide’s back was turned, the princess mouthed, Good luck.

Lorcan refrained from scowling at her, slipping his hand into Elide’s and guiding her gently out of the parlor.

The halls were dark and quiet, the light of the full moon bathing the marble floors in a pale glow. It almost felt as if they were the only two people in the world. Lorcan wouldn’t have minded that one bit.

The ring box felt like a massive weight in his pocket as he held Elide’s hand tighter.

“What are you up to, Salvaterre?” Elide asked playfully, leaning into his side.

“You’ll see soon enough.”

“A surprise?”

“You’ll see.”

Elide narrowed her eyes suspiciously. He could practically see the wheels turning in her mind. She was too smart for her own good. It was one of the things he loved about her. Lorcan wouldn’t put it past her to figure out what he was about to do before he did it. He could only hope that the gods were on his side tonight.

Lorcan led Elide outside towards the gardens. They were a beautiful space, taken meticulous care of throughout the year, filled with trimmed bushes and aromatic flowers. The summer air was comfortably warm, filled with the scent of night-blooming jasmine. With the light of the stars above them and the privacy, it was a perfectly romantic spot.

Lorcan led Elide over to a low, white stone bench situated before a tinkling fountain. He urged her to sit, taking the spot beside her, refusing to release her hand. He rubbed his thumb in slow circles over the smooth skin of her knuckles.

Lorcan tried to will words to his mouth, but it seemed the nerves had finally taken hold, making it far more difficult than he was used to.

“Elide,” he finally managed to rasp out, lifting his gaze to meet hers. “You mean the world to me. I love you more than I have ever loved anything in my lifetime. You know that, right?”

Elide smiled softly and nodded, placing her palm on the side of her face and looking deeply into his eyes. “I know. And I love you just the same.”

He didn’t think ELide would ever understand just how much those words meant to him. He was undeserving of a woman like Elide, but he would try every day of his life to become worthy of her.

“Elide…” Lorcan breathed. “You’re the love of my life. I treasure every day, every moment, I get to spend with you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you… if you’ll have me.” With that, Lorcan slid from the bench to the ground, getting down on one knee on the soft grass. He pulled the velvet box from his pocket, prying it open and holding it out towards Elide, feeling as though he was holding his very heart out in his hands.

Elide gasped and slapped a hand over her chest, eyes wide.

“Elide Lochan…” Lorcan said lowly, watching her face as her lips pressed together tightly and her eyes began to glisten in the silvery moonlight. “Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

The single second of silence that followed his question was excruciating. But, eventually Elide relieved his suffering by choking out a sob and nodding.

“Yes, Lorcan,” she gasped. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you.”

Lorcan released a breathy laugh, almost unable to believe that she had actually said yes. He recovered from his shock quickly, taking Elide’s hand within his own and slipping the ring on to her finger. He had been right, it did look perfect on her.

“It’s beautiful, Lorcan,” Elide whispered, looking at the diamond for one more moment before launching herself at him. Her arms wrapped around the back of her neck as her lips came crashing down upon his. Lorcan didn’t hesitate before sweeping her up in his arms and rising, kissing the woman he loved, his fiancé, deeply.

“I love you so much,” Elide murmured against his mouth, laughing and crying and kissing him.

“I love you too, Elide. So much.”

Lorcan’s heart had never been fuller.

…

They stayed in the quiet gardens for a bit longer, lounging in the peace and privacy they provided. Lorcan held Elide the entire time, whispering in her ear about how beautiful she was and how excited he was to marry her.

But, eventually they decided to head back inside to their friends and break the news.

Elide wore a smile on her face the entire walk back. Lorcan had a matching one of his own.

As they reached the threshold, the low murmuring of voices faded away, all eyes on them. Neither he nor Elide said anything at first, only wearing those grins.

Eventually, Aelin sat up straighter, and demanded, “Well?!”

Lorcan looked down at Elide as she slowly raised her left hand higher, showing off her new ring. “We’re getting married!”

The room erupted into shouts of surprise and congratulations. Not all of them had known what Lorcan had planned to do. He figured the less people who had known the better, especially since Fenrys had a big, fat mouth.

Lorcan dealt with the attention the best he could, accepting a hug from Lysandra, clasping forearms with Aedion and Rowan, and shoving Fenrys away when he placed a smacking kiss upon his cheek.

Once the initial surprise had gone away, they all moved to sitting down once more. Aedion grabbed a bottle of champagne and popped it open to celebrate.

“Being engaged is all fun and games until it comes to the wedding planning,” Lysandra sighed dramatically. From across the room, Rowan gave a tiny grunt of agreement as Aedion nodded solemnly. “It’s so much work. You just want everything to go perfect. I’m still stressing about ours.”

“I’m sure everything will be great,” Elide assured her. “For both of us.”

“Yeah, and just think about it,” Aelin added, running her fingers through Rowan’s short hair. “No matter what happens at either of your weddings… it won’t be nearly as bad as our first one.”

A beat of silence.

Lorcan watched as Rowan looked up towards his wife disapprovingly. “That’s still not funny, Aelin.”

“It’s a little funny. It’s okay to laugh.”

Although Rowan didn’t take her up on that offer, the rest of them released tiny chuckles. It wasn’t much longer that they were back to rapid-fire conversation and rambunctious laughter. Rowan and Aelin as well as Aedion and Lysandra shared stories about the woes of wedding planning. Although it did seem daunting, Lorcan held no doubt in his heart that they would persevere.

He glanced back down at Elide, the woman that he loved, before brushing a kiss over the top of her hair. She leaned deeper into his side, snuggling close.

Every minute of work would be worth it to call Elide his wife.

[theladyofdeath]

In the Bleak Midwinter {5}

A Throne of Glass Period AU: 1920s.

Summary: 2 years after Arobynn Hammel is killed by Rowan Whitethorn, Maeve has returned from Eyllwe with a vengeance. Meanwhile, Rowan is getting married, Lorcan is a father, and Lysandra is finally ready to give her heart away. There’s been peace in The Cadre’s Orynth for 2 years, but peace never lasts.

A/N: Some chapters only have room for one viewpoint. You know...emotionally.

All characters belong to SJM. I am no more than a fan with a plot.

**Warning: mature content - language, alcohol use, drug use, sex, murders and shit.

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The Cadre - 1920s AU {TOG}

In the Bleak Midwinter {The Cadre, Part 2}

Lorcan and Elide walked into the grand hall, where tables were spread about covered in golden tablecloths, candles, and expensive dinnerware. Wine glasses were at the head of every plate, and Lorcan found himself wondering what they would be drinking as Elide waved to Aelin across the room. He wasn’t a fan of wine, anything sweet made him angry just thinking about attempting to digest the shit.

Good thing he had a flask in his pocket.

It was good to always be prepared.

Rowan and Aelin managed to break away from the elderly couple they had been chatting with to meet Lorcan and Elide in the middle of the room. Aelin complimented Elide’s gown while Elide brushed her fingers lovingly over the pricey boa around Aelin’s neck – which, Lorcan took as a hint for his next gift.

“Who was that?” Lorcan muttered.

“Some rich couple planning to donate an ass-ton of money to something or another,” Rowan mumbled back.

Aelin rolled her eyes. “He works under close proximity with the Prime Minister, I’d be kissing his ass if I were you.”

Rowan snorted and whispered something into his wife’s ear that made her blush.

Elide gagged. “We’re in public, don’t be whispering naughty nothings into her ear.”

“Naughty nothings?” Lorcan repeated.

Elide elbowed him in the ribs before turning her attention to the stage as the big band began to play.

“I hate this music,” Lorcan mumbled. “It’s ridiculous. It’s loud.”

“Try not to sound like a grumpy old man for one night,” Elide crooned, a big grin plastered on her lips.

“Impossible, it comes naturally,” Lorcan protested, but he pulled her closer to his side, kissing her cheek.

Elide turned to him and he was already uneasy at the glint in her eye. She was about to ask something that he would want to say no to but would not, because she was the one asking it.

“Do you wanna dance?”

Lorcan sighed, and she laughed at his hesitation, but was already pulling him into the space in the middle of all the tables that had been cleared for those to dance. Without another protest, Lorcan was pulling Elide into his arms and spinning her around.

Yes, he hated the music.

Yes, he hated dancing.

But gods, he loved Elide Lochan Salvaterre.

And nothing compared to her smile, to the light in her eyes, to the utter joy she got from dancing with her husband.

He spun her around and caught her a second later, his hand resuming its position on her waist as his lips caught hers.

“Careful,” she warned, when he pulled back. “People around here will start thinking you’re soft and you have a reputation to uphold.”

“As long as they know I’m only soft for you,” he replied, his hand tightening around hers.

Elide’s eyes softened as the song ended and they began their walk to their table, where Gavriel, Fenrys, and Connall were already sitting. On the way to the table, they passed a waiter carrying a tray and Lorcan grabbed Elide a glass of champagne, which she humbly accepted.

“Lorcan!”

His name rang out, but he couldn’t tell the direction it came from. He looked to his left, where Rowan was pulling a gun out of his jacket, and Lorcan’s heart stopped as a shot rang out, into the grand hall.

Rowan’s shot rang out a second later, and Lorcan’s eyes followed that bullet as it met the chest of a man in a black fedora that stood in the doorway, his gun pointed at Lorcan.

The man fell down.

Another shot rang out.

His accomplice fell to the ground, as well.

Lorcan’s arm around Elide suddenly felt heavier, and time seemed to go slower as he looked to his wife, as the champagne glass fell from her white-gloved hand and shattered against the tile.

Chaos began, those who were attending the gala suddenly in a panic as they grabbed their loved ones and ran, their screams echoing in the large room. The band had abruptly stopped, those who had been on the stage gone, disappeared into the fleeing crowd.

But Lorcan didn’t pay mind to any of them, because his wife had gone still. Her eyes were wide, staring at him as his eyes fell down to where her other hand laid against her ribs, her white glove coated in crimson.

Lorcan wasn’t processing it.

Couldn’t process it.

Didn’t understand what was happening, not in the slightest. He heard nothing, everything had faded, all of it becoming background noise to the ringing in his ears. He was unsure why Elide was looking at him with pure panic, didn’t know why she was falling against him, didn’t know why her glove was ruined, covered in blood.

Her blood.

It was Elide’s blood.

She was bleeding.

Lorcan’s name was being screamed again, Elide’s name was being screamed, but Lorcan was falling to the floor, Elide in his arms, Elide gripping his sleeve, Elide whispering his name, her voice breaking.

Then it hit him.

It all hit him.

His heart began to race.

His palms grew sweaty, his forehead clammy, his cheeks wet as silent tears flowed down his cheeks.

She had gotten shot.

The man that had entered the room, those men, they were Maeve’s men, the one had pointed his gun at Lorcan…

And had hit Elide.

In the ribs.

Elide had been shot in the ribs.

He met her gaze, a soft sob shaking his body as he held her in his arms, sitting on the cold tile, his boots beneath him.

“No,” he breathed, and palmed her cheek, turning her face to meet his gaze, fully. “No, no, no, no, no, no.”

He was panicking.

He was having a panic attack.

Chaos surrounded him, two men were murdered, by Rowan, in the doorway, two of Maeve’s men, two men who had come to kill them, two men who had Elide’s blood on their hands.

Elide.

He whispered her name, and she opened her mouth but nothing came out. A single tear fell from her dark eyes, she found his hand and wrapped her fingers around his, both coated in blood. Lorcan didn’t even remember touching the wound, didn’t even remember any of it.

Time stood still.

Time was blurry.

Time was meaningless.

Everything was meaningless if Elide wasn’t there.

She was fading.

He could see it in her eyes, could see the sorrow, could see the beauty, the light, fading away.

“Elide,” he sobbed, and he wasn’t sure if he whispered it or screamed it, wasn’t sure who was at his back with a hand on his shoulder, wasn’t sure who was crying behind Elide, wasn’t sure of anything, anything at all.

“Gods no, gods no, gods, fuck.” He heard his voice, heard the endless string of words, knew that it was his voice, but it sounded so far away, sounded so desperate.  

Elide took a deep, shuttering breath, then her lips formed one word. 

Lucy. 

Lucy, their baby, Lucy, their child, Lucy, whose mother was lying, bleeding out, on tile of white marble.

“Lucy,” Lorcan repeated, and his tears were flowing from his cheeks onto her skin.

Elide nodded, subtly, slowly. “Lorcan.” His name, hardly audible from her pale lips.

He nodded, gripping her hand so tightly that he feared he would leave a bruise on her delicate, pale skin.

Elide’s eyes closed as she whispered, “I love you both.”

“No!” Lorcan screamed, and this time he knew he screamed, this time he felt the word tear into his body, into his soul. That one word, that single fucking word, ripped him apart and sent him into an endless void of panic and fear. “Open your eyes, El, open your fucking eyes!”

She did, she met his gaze, once more, eyes full of sadness and regret, then the sadness faded and complete adoration had her tearing up.

“Lor,” she breathed, those eyes going hazy, distant.

Lorcan’s voice broke when he answered, as calmly as he could muster, “I’m here.”

She was looking up at the ceiling, those beautiful eyes unfocused, as a small, serene smile captured her lips.

The land in Lorcan’s went limp.

And Elide Lochan Salvaterre went still.

But Lorcan continued to hold her, close to his body as his loud, piercing wail flooded the room. He held his wife’s head to his chest and hoped through some rare kind of miracle that the heart beating wildly, rioting, inside of his chest would somehow pour into hers and ignite it once more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[claudiasjeancregg]

i don’t know anything (but i know i miss you)

OKAY SO I DID A THING. bianca and ariel, this is for you!! for people who haven't had this au stuck in their heads for a week, it's a 1920's speakeasy au that the lovely @stars-on-the-cuffs-of-her-jeans came up with. 

thank you a million times for letting me borrow the verse, it's perfection. the background for this story is pretty self explanatory but basically, cj and toby both go to the same speakeasy (bar during prohibition) and she's a jazz singer, he's a regular. this (and more awesome details) are explained in her post here 

anyway! this is a little thing i wrote and it is NOT edited but i love this au and it was fun to play with it for a while. 

He couldn’t look at her without thinking about it. The feel of her mouth on his, how she used to touch him— soft, desperately, and far too rarely. Her smile in the dark light of the bar haunted him, a smile that used to be a secret gift on the days they both needed the reminder of what waited at the end of the night. She didn’t smile at him like that anymore. She didn’t look at him anymore, either, avoiding his eyes in favor of the stoic man guarding the door who only smiled back when she wasn't looking.

Toby hated that he was jealous— it lived like a snake in the pit of his stomach, coiled up and ready to strike in the moments when his hand tightening around the cool glass was the only thing keeping him from starting a fight. He had no right to be jealous, that much he knew. But God, CJ Cregg certainly didn’t make it easy not to be. Those mile-long legs and the spark in her eye, the way she leaned gracefully over the piano— Toby stared into his drink, lonely and bitter and heartbroken, wishing he could grab her by the hand and take her home.

He had been married, once. It never felt like this. Or maybe it did, and it had just been so long he couldn’t remember; maybe that’s why his marriage didn't work out. That’s when he had found The Wing, in those dark days after the divorce when alcohol seemed to be his only salvation. A forbidden salvation, unless you occasionally went to synagogue with the man who helped run it, which Toby did. Josh Lyman had only talked to him a few times, but he knew Toby well enough to trust him with the cryptic knocking pattern and ever-changing password. It had become a safe place, a place to go for people like him who didn’t have much of a home.

And then he’d seen CJ for the first time. Or he’d heard her, from across the crowded room, and everything had faded out of view except for her voice and her dress and her stunning face. But he didn't look at her in that way for a long time— or at least, he didn't act on it at first. It was so easy to convince himself she was too good for him, that she would never return his affection. Every damn man in the room would go home with her given the chance. Every woman too, for that matter. Why would she choose him?

But now he knew that she would choose him— that she had, and it hadn’t been enough. He hadn’t been enough, as the abrupt end to their affair had made clear. That hurt the most, the way it had ended. It was like a train flying off the tracks, the way she had pulled away like she had never wanted him at all. Toby almost wished he had never touched her in the first place, had never run his hands through her hair or seen her without the glamourous facade of the speakeasy masking their true selves. That would hurt less.

But it sure had been good while it lasted, he thought, remembering the first night with a sigh. “Another scotch?” He raised his hand to the bartender without looking up. “And a mint julep, please,” he heard behind him. The woman’s voice was familiar like a singer he had heard on the radio, her breath a warm shadow on his back. Toby turned around with a hasty retort on his lips about her rudeness, but it died down as soon as he saw her face. This wasn’t a faceless voice he had heard once or twice before— this was the stunning woman draped across the piano every evening, the woman he had spent many a night studying from the end of the bar. God, she was just as gorgeous up close. He opened his mouth to say something smooth, something erring farther on the side of genuine than he usually dared to go. That’s not what came out. “So you have no trouble getting some poor man to pay for your drink, huh?” “Well, darling, you don’t seem very poor to me. Judging from the suit and the shoes and the frequent scotch drinking at the classiest speakeasy in town, you seem quite well-equipped to pay for my drink. And trust me, you don’t mind.” “And what would you do if I did?” He leaned in closer, savoring the way her mouth looked as she put him in his place. He'd never enjoyed being told off so much before.

“Oh, believe me—“ The blonde Harper girl slid both the drinks across the bar with a smoothness Toby envied, and CJ picked them up with a self-assured smirk— “I have my ways.”

He watched her walk away, a lightning bolt exploding in his chest. Toby could almost feel a string pulling him to her as she chatted with the dancing girls, her long gown swirling around her like an aura. One of the women— Margaret was her name, maybe— dabbled in fortune telling and crap like that, so he was sure that she would be able to tell him what CJ’s aura meant. Mystery, allure, sensuality, if he had to guess. That was what he saw in her eyes as she put on a show in the lounge every single night, and he was desperate to find out more about her.

He wanted her, for some inane reason beyond his control. The desire burned like a slow fire in his heart. And he couldn’t stop thinking about taking her to his apartment building and backing her up against the door, kissing her like a teenager would kiss his girlfriend against the lockers. He'd never felt like this, so filled with need for someone he had only watched from across a crowded bar. Toby took a swig of scotch, slammed it down on the counter, and stood up. he grabbed her arm as she crossed the room, spinning her towards him.

“Can I take you home?” he said quietly, eyes filled with dark clouds of concentrated determination.

She opened her mouth to say no, to refuse like she did every other careless proposition. She had her usual prospects for when she wanted someone, and she liked it that way. But he was different. most men wanted her for the chase— for the bragging rights of screwing the lounge singer. He seemed to want more than that. She had noticed him watching her, studying her like a puzzle to put back together. But CJ wasn’t some riddle for this man to solve— if anything, he was the broken one. She could figure things out about men, even enigmatic men like him. The man the regulars called Poe. The pale imprint of a wedding ring on his finger, ink stains on his fingers, a gaze that looked like he was searching for something he surely wasn’t going to find in the bottom of the scotch glass. Something he seemed to think he might find in her.

And so CJ found herself wanting him, even if it was just for a night. Even if it was just to know what it would be like to be with someone who looked at her like that.

“What’s your name?” She lifted her eyes to meet his gaze, challenging him without saying a word.

“Toby. Toby Ziegler.”

She regarded him with a long look. she knew he was waiting for her name, but she wasn’t going to give it to her. Here at The Wing, her name was a secret, passed around in whispers on the lips of only the people she trusted. And she had yet to grant him with that trust.

“Okay then.” She held out her hand, decision made for both of them. “Take me home, Toby Ziegler.”

And that was the first day, the first day of an affair spanning quite a few weeks and reminding them both what it meant to be touched by someone who cared about more than having a warm body next to them. But she had left, afraid of getting any closer than they already had. She had fled, and Toby hadn’t seen her since. Until tonight.

He took a slow sip and let himself relax, the tension leaving his body in a rush. It had been hell to live without hearing her voice, but he had thought it would hurt more to hear it and be reminded of all he had lor. Her voice lived in his memories, in a fog of moments from their warm summer together. Her voice in his ear after waking up that first night. The way she sounded as he touched her, hand tightening around his as he brought her to the edge. But her voice healed him instead, a familiar comfort after having his heart broken. And right now, it was like a fraying rope he held as he tried not to fly off of the jagged cliff edge. It was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.