#also i haven't forgotten your other ask!! i have just been mulling my answer for a week lol

[shivunin]

hello hello i am in your inbox to ask what's a favorite passage/paragraph that you've written? any reason at all, just something you really like and why. 😊

ooooh thank you for asking! that is a fantastic question c: I think the scenes that a story grows from always wind up sticking with me the most, and this scene from Wander the Drifting Roads was one of the first ones I imagined. Cullen has lost his memory after exposure to red lyrium and this is the moment he decides he has a right to know who he was before:

Cullen knelt before the chest and just looked at it for a moment. That symbol was burned into the leather, the eye so like the Seeker’s symbol, the blade that extended below. He knew it. He knew it. Why couldn’t he remember–

He slid the iron block behind the curve of the lock and brought the hammer to bear. Once, twice, three times, and the twisted metal fell away. He set it aside with care and rested both hands on the lid of the trunk. 

Whatever it was he’d lost, whatever he’d done, the answers were in here. Six–no, nine months of waiting and…this was it. He swung the lid open and was glad he’d thought to open a window when dust flew up at the motion. 

The initial contents were painfully anticlimactic. Armor–a cuirass, pauldrons, vambraces–rested on top, a red cloak with a thick fur ruff tucked in beside it, and a pair of black gloves. He removed these carefully, noting the sparse scratches and scuffs. Whatever he’d done wearing this armor, it couldn’t have been much active fighting. Below the armor was a sheathed sword–he drew it from its scabbard and held it to the light–and a shorter, empty sheath. It looked to be a matched pair–longsword and dagger–but the dagger was missing. Strange. He set these aside as well.

Below that–clothing, tunics and trousers a little larger than ones he might wear now. Belts, a lyrium kit he had the good sense to immediately move out of his sight, a prayer volume and beads, books, a smaller box of miscellany–in short, nothing useful. He huffed at the trunk; had he really thought all his secrets were within? But Cullen was nothing if not thorough, so he sat back and removed the contents one by one anyway. 

He lifted the top tunic (why hadn’t it been folded? Most of the clothes were folded) and caught the slightest hint of an unfamiliar scent. Feeling a little absurd, he lifted it to his nose and breathed deeply. 

It smelled like–like lavender and leather and elfroot. Achingly familiar. He knew that scent, but what–

“Do templars take vows?”

He shifts uneasily; this is not the best topic of conversation with the headache beating at his temples, even if he knows why she might be curious. But he answers easily–he lived it for so long it’s all rote by now–until she tilts her head 

“Are templars also expected to give up…physical temptations?”

His thought process creaks to a halt, and when he takes a deep breath through the nose to recover his composure he can smell her instead. He hadn’t realized she was standing so close, and yet–lavender and elfroot, that’s what she smells like. And with her new armor–the sharp, earthy scent of leather, too. Maker, he wishes he hadn’t noticed. Can she tell that he spent half this conversation staring at her bottom lip?

Frustrated, he set the tunic aside and removed the smaller box. 

Letters on top, which he did not have the patience to peruse. Beneath that, a handful of things: a piece of sharp green glass, a scrap of white leather, a smooth black stone, and a small, round wooden box he knew all too well. 

He picked up this last piece carefully and lifted the clasp. Deep green velvet lined the inside, a contrast to the heirloom it held. The ring inside was yellow gold with a single white pearl in the center. The band was etched with vines and leaves that framed the pearl on either side. He lifted one finger and traced the smooth pearl, the ridges and bumps of the band below. Yes, he knew this very well indeed.

When Cullen had been small he’d admired the ring, a precious piece for a humble farmer from Honnleath. His mother told him that his father had saved for years to ask her for her hand. He’d knelt before her on a spring afternoon beside the creek where they’d met as children and laid out all his life for her–all his faults and foibles, all his missteps and mistakes. She’d listened to them all and told him he was horrible with words, but he’d better hurry up and marry her before he tried the speech on some other poor girl. They’d been married that week and had never once looked back. 

Cullen had liked hearing that story as a child, though he usually favored more heroic tales. He liked that his father had needed to work for this gesture; he liked that his mother had always told Cullen she’d never loved anyone else, no matter what foolishness his father had said. 

This ring was the single most expensive thing his family had ever owned, aside from the horses. After his parents’ deaths, Mia’d had it moved to a bank in South Reach for safekeeping. Why was it here, in this dusty trunk? 

A heaviness in his chest told him why, but he carefully set the box aside anyway and reached for the correspondence. 

Letters: letters from Mia, who alternately berated and teased him for failing to write. Letters from people whose names he didn’t recognize, thanking him for this or that–none of those meant much to him. Who had he been to them? And the last, bound in worn green ribbon: three letters marked with his first name alone. No titles. 

This was it. He knew this had to be it. He stopped anyway, closed his eyes and took several deep breaths to still his racing heart. The red hum was there, the faintest of counterpoints, and it had risen with his heart rate. He waited until he could still and silence it again, until it lay quiescent in his chest, and then he slipped the first envelope from beneath the ribbon. 

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

✵ for modern and/or spirit blossom ( even though i know we haven't interacted a lot in the latter , i just think robibi is cute in that verse )

✧ ━━ 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃 ✵ 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝙼𝙾𝙳𝙴𝚁𝙽 𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙴

THEIR FIRST IMPRESSION OF YOUR MUSE: ━━ "Not much of one, frankly. I saw a man who worked his way through sweat and tears to get to his position, and I respect that. Pushing through difficulties alone is hard enough but the industry he decided to enter is ruthless; I suppose I was curious about how ... It is rare for a man to be fueled with such passion."

CURRENT IMPRESSION: ━━ "Hm, it is not often I give compliments to anyone; but he is ... no, comforting is not the right word, what I feel around him is too eerie to be comforting. I do not like his uncanny ability to somehow know when things are bothering me - its aggravating. ... He is a very genuine man, but quiet enough in his enthusiasm that others feel compelled to follow him, fine leadership qualities. The type of man who, I imagine, would be trusted and beloved by those under his guidance; I'm sure many songs will be written in his honor when the sun sets on his life."

ARE THEY ATTRACTED TO YOUR MUSE?: ━━ "I have two very functioning eyes, and he's a clever mind. I could be."

SOMETHING THEY FIND FRIGHTENING ABOUT YOUR MUSE: ━━ "There is little I fear in men, but as I have said a hundred times before; my business is my own, and it perturbs me when my headspace is seemingly entered without permission nor warning. ... I am aware that it is not something he does on purpose or out of malice to make me nettled but, ugh."

SOMETHING THEY FIND ADORABLE ABOUT YOUR MUSE: ━━ "Ha! As though I did not just spend the past quarter hour insulting it. His stalwart heart has its own charms, and that more often than one would expect he is quite a cheeky little pup."

WOULD MY MUSE SACRIFICE THEMSELVES FOR YOURS?: ━━ "No, I value my life over all. As everyone should."

WOULD MY MUSE GO ON A DATE WITH YOURS? PLATONIC/ROMANTIC: ━━ " ... I don't know. Maybe? I would have to mull over it."

ONE WORD MY MUSE WOULD USE TO DESCRIBE YOURS: ━━ "Familiar."

WOULD MY MUSE SLAP YOURS IF THEY COULD?: ━━ "I fail to see a reason why I would ever need to? He isn't disrespectful nor malicious. Also I tend to avoid physical fights altogether."

WOULD MY MUSE HUG/KISS YOURS?: ━━ "That is entirely dependent on the future depth of our relationship. As of now I would prefer to abstain."

𝚂𝙿𝙸𝚁𝙸𝚃 𝙱𝙻𝙾𝚂𝚂𝙾𝙼

THEIR FIRST IMPRESSION OF YOUR MUSE: ━━ "I saw him wondering past the lakeside painted in the day's light, it was beautiful but ... I felt sadness from him. A deep loneliness that has stayed with him since before his arrival. My heart ached when I looked at him."

CURRENT IMPRESSION: ━━ "I've still been a bit too wayward to approach him with the intention of having a conversation, but he played music while I sang and did not flee when I came close. It is calming to be around him, I have been alone for so long that I had forgotten what is it like to be ... seen. It is a bit exposing but ... He feels warm."

ARE THEY ATTRACTED TO YOUR MUSE?: ━━ " ... " With an air of quiet vulnerability, his striking green eyes —bright like emeralds kissed by sunlight — shift away, betraying a shy pout which brings a flushing red to his cheeks. At least a little bit, yes.

SOMETHING THEY FIND FRIGHTENING ABOUT YOUR MUSE: ━━ "A dark terror lies within him, and I am not sure it can be slain with a blade."

SOMETHING THEY FIND ADORABLE ABOUT YOUR MUSE: ━━ "He whittles! I've seen the little figures he makes, like children's toys but ... ever tinier. I am sure he looks very focused when working on them; they are handled with such love. Love from a time long ago."

WOULD MY MUSE SACRIFICE THEMSELVES FOR YOURS?: ━━ "In what way ... ? I ... I am not able to answer that question yet."

WOULD MY MUSE GO ON A DATE WITH YOURS? PLATONIC/ROMANTIC: ━━ " ... W-Why are we asking these types of questions ...? "

ONE WORD MY MUSE WOULD USE TO DESCRIBE YOURS: ━━ "Tsuyu."

WOULD MY MUSE SLAP YOURS IF THEY COULD?: ━━ "I-I would not! Why would I want to strike him?"

WOULD MY MUSE HUG/KISS YOURS?: ━━ As the question hung in the air, time seemed to pause, and the spirit's verdant eyes widened in astonishment, shimmering like dew-kissed leaves in the dawn. It was clear he had not expected such a question, so much so that his lips fell agape and his cheeks were painted with the scarlet blooms he had only just ridden himself of. Thus, with a graceful sway, he rose to his feet, and brushed away the remnants of nature — tiny leaves that clung to the fabric of his flowing robes, as if reluctant to part with the wandering spirit. Robin spared a final, lingering glance towards his visitor before turning to embrace the soft kiss of the summer breeze; his silvery hair unraveling into wisps of clouds that sparkled as though caught in sunlight. And just as quickly as he appeared, within that ephemeral dance, he faded into the landscape - blending and weaving into the tapestry of trees and foliage, becoming naught but the rustling of leaves and the gentle murmur of the nearby creek.

[radioduo]

before the storm || dsmp become human

notes + tag list: yeah :) finally here! @pindl3 @spider-shoes :]

no tws as far as i know, but don’t be afraid to ask me to tag something! :D writing is below the cut!

first // prev // next

Tubbo would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous. He shifted Michael on his hip and boarded the rusting freighter with Tommy close behind, eyes darting around nervously. “There’s something in here, I know there is,” he murmured, more to himself than anything else. “The only question is where.” He waded through the ankle-deep water in the boat, grimacing at the feeling of his socks becoming soggy as he walked.

Michael made a joyful staticky noise as Tommy boarded the ship behind them, and Tubbo cringed as it echoed around them, bouncing off the metal and growing louder before fading away. “We have to be quiet, kiddo, okay?” he shushed the android, “We don’t know what’s in here.”

Tommy pulled his heavy jacket tighter around him. “This place is fuckin’ creepy, man, I don’t think we should be here,” he whispered. The teen flinched as a drop of water landed in his eye, and he grumbled to himself, irritated. “Let’s just turn around and go, Tubbo,” he said, urgently reaching to grab the white-haired boy’s sleeve. “Why are we even here?”

Tubbo pulled his arm from his friend's grip, careful not to disturb Michael. “The police are after us, Tommy, you know that. We can’t just stay in a motel for the rest of our lives, and we need to find a way to get to Canada,” he whispered back. “You haven’t forgotten that, have you?”

Tommy stayed silent, but Tubbo could tell the sloshing footsteps were heavier than before, and he was stomping. The duo followed the twisting hallway, trying every door and searching for the light that had been on previously, but no luck. “It has to be here somewhere, surely,” Tubbo muttered.

“But what is ‘it,’ Tubbo? What the hell could you possibly-”

“Found it!” The deviant whispered excitedly. “Here, take him,” Tubbo said, handing Michael to Tommy who stood, mouth agape and looking shocked. “If I could just- pry open this door,” he muttered under his breath, fingers slipping as he tried to push it inwards. Determination in his grip, he clutched the bright yellow handle and twisted, stifling a grunt of effort. At last, the half-rusted door began to swing open, and Tubbo squinted, attempting to adjust his eyes to the light that was suddenly illuminating the dingy walls and floor.

“What the h-” Tommy was about to shout at the deviant but was swiftly interrupted by a powerful voice.

“Who are you?”

The duo froze in their tracks, going silent. Michael, meanwhile, was making grabby hands at Tubbo from Tommy's arms, while the white-haired boy stood still as a statue, eyes glued to the stranger's silhouette.

X Answer

O Keep quiet

Tubbo grimaced as he mulled over the options in his head. The person already knew the three of them were there. No point in trying to hide in plain sight, he decided.

X Answer

“We’re peaceful,” he announced, unnerved and unmoving.

A hush fell over the group as the stranger's footsteps echoed off the metal floors, and a tall sandy-haired man came into view. Tubbo could see a faint blue light gleaming from under the hood on his head, and he felt a wave of relief rush through him as he realized it was an android. Tubbo pulled his hair back to show the other man his own LED as it flashed and blinked in the darkness. “We’re not here to do anything to you if you're worried about that,”

The other android seemed to relax a bit at those words, and he sighed with relief from beneath the mask he wore. “That might be true, but I haven't gotten an answer. Who are you?” His voice was kind, but something about his unrelenting green-eyed stare unsettled Tubbo. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“TU880, but my proper name is Tubbo,” he replied.

“TU880…” the taller android repeated. The look in the masked android's eyes told Tubbo the number was familiar to him, but why was beyond the younger deviant. “And what about them?” He asked, gaze flicking over to where Tommy stood clutching Michael protectively.

“I’m not tellin' you, bitch,” Tommy snapped. “Why do you want to know?”

Tubbo held back an exasperated groan. “That’s Tommy,” he answered. “The boy in his arms is my son, Michael.”

The masked android hummed in response. He said nothing for a moment, probably pondering his options, before finally saying, “My name is Dream. I’m the leader here at Jericho.” He pulled down his mask to address the trio, and Tubbo bit his lip to stifle a gasp. Beneath the black fabric was a long scar that ran diagonally from the bottom of his nose to his chin. He also had a shorter but equally as nasty one that snaked up from his jawbone to just below his eye. Both looked faded from time, but Tubbo could still tell that they’d been deep and harsh at one point.

“What the fuck is wrong with your face?” Tommy asked, adjusting Michael on his hip.

Tubbo turned to glare at him but was pleasantly surprised when he heard Dream laughing. “It’s just a few scars,” he explained through laughter. “Had a run-in with a few particularly angry deviants, but I’m fine,” he pulled his mask back up and turned to face the inside of the room. “What are you guys waiting for? Come on in.” He motioned for the trio to follow, and hesitantly, the three stepped out of the water and into the warm room.

When they first entered the main room, Tubbo noticed the clusters of deviants huddled around different fire pits that laid scattered around the room. Some looked as if they were brand new, barely a speck of dirt on their uniforms with LEDs still blinking the same Cyberlife blue as usual. Others looked a little worse for wear, torn clothes, or scars scattered across their faces. Near the back of the room was another open door, and if he squinted, Tubbo could see large crates that stored bio components and blue blood. He turned to ask Dream where they'd come from when he suddenly realized that the masked deviant had vanished. He glanced around, confused, but didn't catch a glimpse of the leader anywhere.

Tommy snapped his fingers in front of Tubbo's face to get his attention. “What the hell is this place?” He gently handed Michael back to Tubbo. “Is it safe here?”

Tubbo gratefully accepted his son back and ruffled the young android’s hair. “Do you really think there would be so many people here if it wasn’t?” he answered. Upon seeing Tommy’s skeptical look, he sighed. “Listen, you don’t have to like it here, but this might be the only hope I have at getting that train ticket north,” he looked down at Michael, who met his gaze with a smile. “You don't have to stay either,” he said, lowering his voice. "But I need to do this. For myself and Michael. For you, Tommy."

Tommy was quiet, the stillness weighing heavily on the two teens. The silence seemed to fall over the whole ship, the muffled chatter coming to a lull as the blond-haired boy wrestled with his thoughts.

The only sound was the crackling of the nearby fire, which roared and popped inside Tubbo's ears. "Okay," Tommy replied, seemingly reluctant. "I'll stay. But promise that we get that train ticket and get out of here as soon as possible."

Tubbo let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. It felt like the whole room had exhaled at once, a collective sigh of contentment. "Thank you, Tommy.

The blonde teen seemed to relax, closing his eyes as the tension left his shoulders. He pried off his coat and set it next to a fire pit as he focused back in on Tubbo and Michael. “Right, well, we should find that leader guy soon. Dream, innit? We’ll get you that ticket, Tubso.” He put a hand on the android’s shoulder with a grin. “You’ll be on your way north soon.”