#also the kind that keeps a lot of things for the memories

[averysmolkirbo]

kind of sort of not really theyre a pretty insensitive but theyre trying i think

probably a blorbo and or a pokemon

of fucking course i do

n-no....... 🥺

single. waiting for someone to materialize in front of me because i refuse to make frens

Dramatically

brownie brittle and hot chocolate

i did gymnastics. for like a year.

so much that theyre permanantly stuck at child nail-bed size.

im gonna go ahead and say never but emotional? different answer

crush? yes. women. pathetic fictional men. yknow.

nope im eepy

many many many many people some of which are fictional

missing someone i havent met

cats. 2 of em. my babis

sick

ive never made out period

of course i am. 3 have landed on/very near my face while i was in bed this year and one bit me

yea knowing im autistic before 17 wouldve been nice

im ace and a virgin

not much. probably pokemon.

NO

nope too scared of needles

science was my best in school but now i suck at everything equally

not really tbh

more brownie brittle and also sleep

apparantly my sister's when i was a kid but tbh im suspicious of her story

nope i have been snitched on tho (f u brendan)

never had one

the fact that im sick and feel like ive been run over

id be edgy/pick me and say "no one 🥺" but thats a lie

deep purple. Used to be blue.

oh so many

i dont remember but probably involved a blorbo

mom

nope i barely give second chances

forget because my memory is shit

nope

romantically, havent had it yet

nope

skips to 51 here but anything bland

everything happens to fuck me over (/sarcasm)

Doomscroll because i wasnt able to sleep all night

Academically? of course. if its stupid youre allowed to cheat

ive never claimed to be nice yall just assume

gonna say 0

sure why not

Snow

as stated directly before this yes

i wanna get married on a windswept cliff where the dinner will be easily digestible ❤️

in general yes but its never happend to me before

yaoi

yes mine is literally meaningless

no but itd probably get them sick

gay/lesbian but i take what i can get

nope

person i was trading pokemon with :)

myself. i keep all my deep conversations to myself. i dont wanna go back to therapy

why not

my blorbos. My cats. a lot of things really

70 horrible questions ... Fuck it

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents? 02: Who did you last say “I love you” to? 03: Do you regret anything? 04: Are you insecure? 05: What is your relationship status? 06: How do you want to die? 07: What did you last eat? 08: Played any sports? 09: Do you bite your nails? 10: When was your last physical fight? 11: Do you like someone? 12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? 13: Do you hate anyone at the moment? 14: Do you miss someone? 15: Have any pets? 16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment? 17: Ever made out in the bathroom? 18: Are you scared of spiders? 19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? 20: Where was the last place you snogged someone? 21: What are your plans for this weekend? 22: Do you want to have kids? How many? 23: Do you have piercings? How many? 24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)? 25: Do you miss anyone from your past? 26: What are you craving right now? 27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart? 28: Have you ever been cheated on? 29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? 30: What’s irritating you right now? 31: Does somebody love you? 32: What is your favourite color? 33: Do you have trust issues? 34: Who/what was your last dream about? 35: Who was the last person you cried in front of? 36: Do you give out second chances too easily? 37: Is it easier to forgive or forget? 38: Is this year the best year of your life? 39: How old were you when you had your first kiss? 40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked? 51: Favourite food? 52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason? 53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? 54: Is cheating ever okay? 55: Are you mean? 56: How many people have you fist fought? 57: Do you believe in true love? 58: Favourite weather? 59: Do you like the snow? 60: Do you wanna get married? 61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? 62: What makes you happy? 63: Would you change your name? 64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? 65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? 66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? 67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? 68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? 69: Do you believe in soulmates? 70: Is there anyone you would die for?

[thebestandworstdayofjune]

clark kent loves quietly

This is a collection of head canons I wrote with David!Clark in mind, but would really work for any Clark iteration. That teaser trailer did something to my brain

He knows that you hate being spooked, and his quiet footfalls have gotten the better of you more times than you would ever admit. When he comes home from a day of work, or finds you tucked into whatever you are working on, he purposefully makes sure that his footfalls are heavy, so that you hear him coming. You jump slightly when he notches his chin in the space between your head and shoulder, but he is quick to squeeze you tight and soothe them away. 

You would think that he tries to fight your battles for you, protection hard wired into his veins. But he’s much the opposite. He knows that you can take care of yourself (super-human threats excluded, of course) and is happy to watch you stand up for yourself. It’s nice to see you love yourself loudly by making your wishes known. 

This man can cook. He spent a lot of time with his mom in the kitchen, who used cooking to cope after his father passed. He absorbed every second of it, intent on making the memories last. Food is one of his love languages now. He will pick up your favorites if he is eating out, but when you are having a particularly hard day, he plops you down on the couch with your beverage of choice in hand, and insists you don’t move. You had assumed that cooking would be frustrating for him, all the super speed in the world can’t make onions caramelize faster, but he finds it so soothing- especially when he knows that you’re going to give him one of your big smiles, the kind saved just for him, at the end of it all. His specialties are casseroles and chilis and his mom’s fluffy biscuits, if you were wondering. 

Does his best to mind his business (keeping his super hearing off the speed of your heart) as long as you promise to let him know what is bothering you as soon as you’re comfortable. He hates to see you hurting, but also respects that sometimes you need to process on your own. It’s unspoken between the two of you, you’ll curl up with him when you’re ready and spill your guts, and he will have a super powered ear at the ready. 

Any of your accomplishments are office gossip for weeks, because he is telling everyone. A picture of you with the degree you finished several months into dating is framed on his desk, when you accept his proposal he finds ways to slip it into most conversations. You always blush, which fills him with pride. He insists it isn’t gossiping if it’s talking about yourself. You smile and resist the urge to point out that it is often more so about you. He views you as a singular unit in all things, and you can’t find it in yourself to complain.

Clark was simultaneously terrified when you figured out that he was the one flying around the city fighting super humans (and rescuing the occasional cat stuck in a tree), and not the least bit surprised. He has long considered you one of the smartest people that he has ever known. He chides himself for not preparing for it better. He stood speechless for several moments, before tripping over his words, a muddled confusion of explanation and apology. He calmed when you smiled shyly at him, approaching him like he might spook at any minute. He stilled, allowing you to take control of the situation and gently slip your hand into his. You squeezed, he squeezed back, and the rest was history.

[the-sleepy-conductor]

Ok headcanon time.

I've seen lots of headcanons about Emmet always saying "I am Emmet" simply because it could be a verbal stim, or he just automatically starts doing so because people confuse him with Ingo.

But hear me out.

He starts doing it because of Legends Arceus.

Before I dive into this, quick tw of mentions of death, as well as panic attacks. Also possibly derealization and depersonalization? I'm not sure how to describe what's down below I'm not trying to be offensive.

So, the event of Ingo being sent to Hisui happens before the events of Black and White. Except it's not a he-was-gone-for-months-or-years kind of thing. He just blips, faster than the blink of an eye, but being in Hisui felt like an eternity to him. He's still in his Subway attire after the whole ordeal, still has his Pokemon, and most importantly, still has his memories. He remembers everything about himself, but also recalls forgetting everything in Hisui.

Now I'm imagining this could happen when the twins are on the Multi Train waiting for a challenger for instance. They're bored out of their minds, with Emmet impatiently tapping his foot and Ingo nearly falling asleep. Then just as Ingo closes his eyes, Hisui happens, and he's jolted awake with a choked gasp.

Emmet is of course frightened, frantically asking Ingo what's wrong. But the older Subway Boss is in shock and clearly distressed. Ingo can only clutch his chest as he gasps and wheezes for breath. He feels as though his heart is pounding too fast for his body, he's suffocating. Can't breathe. Can't get enough oxygen-

But he's alive. His heart is beating, he can feel the cold chills through his body, the trembling... He's not dead out in ancient Sinnoh. But he still can't calm down. He's freaking out about what happened to him. Was that some weird nightmare? No, he swore everything was real. The Zoroarks, the Alphas, Giratina, Arceus, the fear still made itself home in his brain. The Pearl Clan, his Pokemon, Lady Sneasler, they created a warm fuzzy feeling in him for a split second as he recalled them. And yet he remembered all those cold, lonely nights he'd cry alone to himself for the man who looked like him, his twin brother Emmet.

And Ingo breaks down crying right then and there. He's so overwhelmed from emotion, unable to process years of events and emotions and memories in just seconds. He's hyperventilating, crying choked sobs as it feels like his poor heart is going to give out. Was he really in Hisui? He was back in the subway train, wasn't he? Like nothing ever happened? Did Arceus rip his soul from his body for that split second, and that's why his body is utterly convinced he's going to die-

And through the gasping, the crying, his heartbeat pounding in his ears, he hears Emmet's voice call out to him worriedly but calmly through it all. Ingo held onto that voice like a lifeline. It had been merely a few seconds since he heard his twin's voice, yet it had been decades. He clings onto his baby brother for dear life, registering that he's right here, Emmet is right here, and Ingo is at his side. Emmet had given up on trying to ask Ingo what's wrong, now only concerned with helping Ingo calm down. Ingo's a crying mess for a long time, but he eventually cries himself out, now too tired to keep sobbing.

Emmet takes that chance to ask Ingo if he's ok. Ingo replies that he's unsure. Physically he's fine, but... He shudders and leans against Emmet more. Emmet asks him to elaborate. Ingo was positive that Emmet would think he's gone crazy, but Ingo was so shaken up he didn't know what else to do. He explains everything, the events of Hisui, feeling like he wasn't even in his own body for a split second, and forgetting his own twin. Ingo gets choked up again and Emmet reminds him to breathe.

Even though the whole experience was traumatizing, the only thing Ingo could focus on was that he forgot Emmet. His memories are still intact now, but he knows he forgot him in Hisui. And for some reason, that terrifies him more than any space-time anomaly. He weakly chokes out that he didn't want to forget Emmet again. He could forget trains, he could forget Unova, just don't take his brother away from him again.

Of course Emmet is caught off guard by all this. But his normally unshakable brother was breaking down in his arms, and he had never seen Ingo this upset in his entire life. If Ingo had a reason to be upset, then what he said must be true, because Ingo wasn't acting like himself at all. They're Subway Bosses, they've seen it all.

Emmet reassures Ingo that he believes him. His distress his valid. But Emmet also proposes an idea. He'll remind Ingo that he is Emmet as often as he can. And from then on, he'll make a habit of saying "I am Emmet" at the start of every other sentence, for Ingo's peace of mind. It becomes such a habit, that he even says it when he's not talking to Ingo. He starts using a sort of script when introducing himself to passengers, saying "I am Emmet. I am a Subway Boss. I like Double Battles. I like combinations of two Pokemon. And I like winning more than anything else." He starts using short and brief sentences to describe himself to anyone new to him, as well as using it to keep Ingo grounded whenever he has another panic attack about his memories.

And even years later, even after the events of Black 2 and White 2, Ingo still finds comfort in hearing his little brother say "I am Emmet."

This got waaaaay out of hand but I needed somewhere to jot my thoughts

[katuschka]

His Sugar-Dusted Skin – Part 1

Jake Kiszka x reader 5.639 words (Part 1)

So, After some consideration, I decided to split this one in two, because a) I promised to post it this weekend and it's not finished yet, and b) it might me too long. December's been a bit chaotic and as I said before, I've been struggling a bit with this one. So let me know what you think. Any feedback is much appreciated!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere.

Warnings (are spoilers): alcohol consumption and heavy intoxication, mentions of the death of a close person (retrospective), allusions to a potentially promiscuous behaviour, some strong language, the twins being assholes (kind of... they're still cute), Jake's happy trail, I think that's it for now...

Oh, life…

How ordinary and boring it can get when you stick to thinking that there aren’t any other options. As far as I remember, conformity never made sense to me. And as far as I remember, I was being raised and forced to embrace it. My mind surrendered for a while, but my vagrant soul just kept resisting. I never wanted to fit in. I always wanted to fly.

When I left home three years ago, I didn’t take much with me. My parents didn’t approve of my choices and the only person who would’ve supported me in my decisions was already gone. My beloved grandma. She was the disruptive force that kept me on my toes, always challenging me in the most loving way, knowing too well that it was exactly what I needed. She gave me my first guitar, too. Even though sclerosis made her homeward-bound, her dreams and fantasies always kept her wandering. I loved that. She was always there to spark my imagination and in return, I wanted to be her legs and eyes one day. When I was little, my friends used to call her fairy godmother. “Keep your sails up sweetheart, the wind is whimsical.” That’s what she used to say. “All you need is that air in your lungs and love in your heart.” 

“You must never leave me, oma,” I said to her once. “I need that love in my heart forever.”

“Someone else will fill it, darling,” she replied. “I’m only here to make sure it is open. But one day, you won’t need me anymore.”

When she died, I lost my only reason to stay there. The world was slowly getting to its feet again and it was my turn to do the same. I had dreams that simply couldn’t be fulfilled at home. My heart was aching for adventure. So I packed my bags, just like they sing in old songs, slung my guitar over my shoulder and hit the road. A vagabond chick. 

As I came to Tennessee, all I owned could fit in my barely drivable car: literally just a few dresses, my phone, my modest savings, my old six string, my treasured voice and THE recipe. Aaaah, those were the days…

Who am I kidding? It was pretty rough at first. VERY rough, to be honest. I cried many nights. But the one thing my parents had taught me was to save money, and that helped me survive the first months, when I waited tables during the day and sang my ass off after dark. 

Many people never make it. Hell, even though I’m an optimist, I have to admit that most don’t. If you’re not strong willed and immune to shit, you’re most certainly destined to fail. I’ve seen way too many extra talented and broken people on my journey, just because they were too nice or too naive. Well, I’m not naive, but I’m definitely not a cold bitch either. I think I just got lucky, because I had my guardian angel with me the whole time. When she was still walking on earth, she absolutely loved the Beatles, With a Little Help from My Friends being her favorite song. My childhood memories are filled with those songs and how she sang along, and I believe that it was her doing that eventually turned this tune into the soundtrack of my life. I met a lot of fantastic people on my arduous journey towards my goals and dreams, and that’s how I got by. 

As a token of my gratitude, I baked cookies for them. My grandma’s famous linzer cookies. THE recipe. Fast forward a few years, I still keep doing that at Christmas. Apart from the fact that my friends simply demand it, it’s also my way of keeping her alive, to make myself feel like she’s still here with me… in a way. 

Back home, the whole neighborhood loved her art of baking. Me being her only granddaughter, she literally forced me to learn how to bake those linzer cookies – her own recipe, to be precise. Every time I rolled my eyes, while making annoyed noises, blowing raspberries and just being a little asshole about it in general, she simply smiled and said that one day I’ll thank her. Why – I asked – and she responded that one day it would bring me love. “Love goes through the stomach, my dear. Look at your grandpa. See how huge it is?” And then he smiled and kissed her hair and it always made me believe her.

Except it didn’t happen. At least not yet. It – however – gave me a semblance of home that I consciously chose not to have, but sometimes missed. 

Just last year, I decided to continue with the tradition my grandma�� started back at home. “Love is a reciprocal game, my dear,” she said. “You get what you give, but do not lose yourself in giving.” 

They want my sweets? Fine! But let them show me how much. They have to “earn” it. At the beginning of December, I give my friends custom-made Christmas greetings, and if they want to receive their own little box of cookies, they have to send back a card of their own making. The first time was a success, and I ended up baking sweets for eleven people. And it didn’t stop there, as it earned me nine bottles of wine, a flacon of my favorite perfume and  a ukulele. All I really wanted was a thank you, but hey! I won’t say no to wine! So I decided to do it again, and this time I received seventeen cards, including three “masterpieces” from the members of the infamous Greta Van Fleet! Yeah, that’s right. While I still feel like I’m barely making it sometimes, I move in high-ish circles. El-oh-el. 

I met Daniel first, through a mutual friend, at one of the music clubs we frequented. He was actually one of the eleven buddies that helped me restart this Christmas tradition. Later I learned that he selflessly shared his portion with the rest of the group during a rehearsal he went to right after he dropped by at my place, and that’s how I got invited to one of their semi-private dinners. Dan kindly introduced me as “Joni”, which earned me two “woos” and one ironic smirk. To be fair, I didn’t like it either. It actually made me cringe, because the woman is an unattainable role model, but it was just Daniel being himself, aka the nice guy. Bless his soul. 

I went from an acquaintance with useful skills to a drinking buddy, because I’m good at that too. One of my less admirable strengths, but there are times when it comes in handy. Especially when a Johnny Depp wannabe from Middle-earth wants to outsmart you…

A year flew by and it was time to extend my offer to Sam and Josh, who made sure I wouldn’t forget them. Don’t ask me how. The video they sent me definitely had the potential to go viral. I wholeheartedly appreciate how much they trust me not to do that. 

They wouldn’t stop there, though. I had to laugh when I received their own precious hand drawn contributions. How sweet. They’re all so sweet actually… well, all except Jake. Aloof, taciturn and arrogant, that’s how he rolls. I’m pretty sure he just can’t stand me, because while he often laughs with others, he only ever laughs at me. His opinion on my baking goes hand in hand with what he thinks about my playing, preferring darker and more spicy shit, as he once put it. Well, whatever. He’s a colossal prick. 

It’s quite unfortunate that I’ve also had a colossal crush on him for quite some time now. As I said, I’m a vagabond chick, and he happens to possess all the right shit to lure me. Like a moth to a flame. And I got burned. 

See, oma? Not working. 

Well, I’m not the one to cry over guys, so I’m not going to lose my sleep over that. He can go fuck himself. (Someone else can do it. I swear he needs it.). 

Seventeen packages meant I was going to spend most of the Friday evening as well as the whole Saturday slaving in my kitchen. Thankfully, I really do enjoy doing this, so it’s simply an essential part of Christmas festivities. A good time spent with me, myself and Ella Fitzgerald. It’s still quite a lot of work though. 

Friday was just about making dough. It might seem easy, but you need to understand that in order to make enough cookies for 17 (!) people, I needed more than 5 lbs of flour, 3 lbs of butter, nearly 24 ounces of sugar, 23 egg yolks and zest from 6 lemons! I will say no more to protect the family secret, but you can see it takes a lot of effort just to put this all together. I take this very seriously. I don’t want to disappoint anyone. 

It had to be perfect. 

But alas! I couldn’t have known that one malicious and horny sprite who wanted me to spoil him with my art of baking was also going to sabotage my efforts in the most peculiar way. 

Once finished, I covered the dough with plastic wrap and put it in the fridge to let it rest overnight before I hopped in the shower to wash off the sweaty sugar crust that seemed to stick to every inch of my exposed skin. It was almost midnight when I finally managed to climb in bed, pleasantly exhausted and happy, only to be woken up by a frantic doorbell noise at around two am. A normal person would just freak out in such a situation, but knowing who that might be, I was already pretty much used to it as I lived nearest to their favorite bar. Our favorite bar, to be precise. 

Over time, they came to an agreement that my tiny apartment was a perfect place for nightcaps, the only problem being that the Kiszkas were usually quite loud about it, completely ignoring the fact that I had neighbors. Thankfully, this part of town is a bit specific in a sense that the said neighbors simply didn’t give a shit, with their own lifestyle not being much different. 

This is what I wanted. Friends, late night laughs, my life filled with music and hugs and kisses and peculiar outcomes of unpredictable events that could only lead to more hugs and kisses. 

There was this one time when Josh fell asleep on my couch while the others simply sneaked away giggling and left him there, spread-eagled and snoring his uvula off. Several hours later, I was woken up by the delicious smell of buttermilk waffles, served with maple syrup and a guilty, puppy dog stare. 

Simply put, they were (almost) always welcome here. Almost…

Sober, sleepy and disoriented, I was definitely in no mood for a late night party (or an early morning one… seriously Josh, wtf!), with all the baking lying ahead of me. I didn’t even have to guess if it was really them; I could already hear them the moment my heart calmed down a bit and I stepped out of my bedroom. Determined to chase them away with a rolling pin, I answered the door angrily and was nearly knocked down by the falling Oliver Reed who obviously decided to lean against it the very moment I yanked it open. 

It’s always intrigued me how the brain works in these situations, working so fast that the time seems to slow down to an almost comical pace. I watched in slow motion how his back slid against the wood, his arms flapping in the air in a futile attempt to regain balance. I could tell at the first fleeting glance that he wasn’t fit to keep his balance standing, let alone falling, so no wonder it was a completely lost cause. Some voice at the back of my skull tried to tell me to jump aside, but I was too mesmerized by the sight. Just when his shoulder hit me clumsily in the chest and I stumbled backwards, Josh finally managed to grab Jake’s arms to keep him from knocking me down completely. My rolling pin fell on the wooden floor with a loud bang that made my neighbor’s dog bark. Jake, now aggressively pinned against the corridor wall by Josh, only added to the ear-piercing nocturnal cacophony with his loud howls: “Whoa whooooa!” 

“Shhh, shut the fuck up, Jake!” Josh hissed through his teeth before he turned his concerned stare back at me. “Y/N, sweetheart, terribly sorry hun! Didn’t mean too…” I could tell that he was tipsy as well, but it paled in comparison with the state Jake was in. I had seen him drunk many times before, with his glossy, beady eyes and unfocused stare that always made him look a bit like a teddy bear. This was new, though. He seemed absolutely plastered. 

Out of the imminent danger, but with my heart still wildly pumping adrenaline-enriched blood into my veins, I grabbed the doorframe first to support myself before I tried to make sense of what was just happening in front of me. 

They weren’t alone. Right behind Josh stood a guy whom I had seen a few times before, but I couldn’t recall his name. He looked slightly uncomfortable. “What the fuck, Josh!?!” I hissed. 

Josh immediately tried to win me over with the most sheepish smile he could muster, but his involuntarily cocked eyebrow betrayed him, which only made me more furious. “Dearest Y/N, we need your help, baby!” 

“With what? I asked incredulously. 

“I need you to take care of my asshole brother, pretty pleeeease.” 

“You what?” I goggled at him, completely taken aback by his impudent request. “Why can’t you just take him home?” Much to Jake’s annoyance, we kept discussing him and his imminent future as if he wasn’t even there, which only resulted in another outburst of his loud and incoherent babbling and our collective attempt to shush him before Josh answered.

“Because, I am not planning on going home, honey,” he whisper-shouted, hoping that I would just get it without him having to be too obvious. Yeah, I got it. It didn’t mean I was willing to help him. I looked at the guy again, who suddenly pretended to be very interested in the hallway lights. At that moment, the owner of the barking dog opened his own door to passionately inform us what we all were. I had no other choice than to hastily usher them all in.

“You can’t leave him here just like that? Are you out of your mind? Is this some kind of retribution for what he did the last time? Because it’s not funny. This is my home, and not a fucking sobering center! Just call him an uber,” I continued to protest once we were all safely inside my apartment, and that’s when Jake chimed in for the first time with something that made at least a bit of sense: “Yeah, ah-don’ wanna…,” he hiccupped before he could finish the sentence, making me even more incensed with the whole situation. He quickly tried to amend it, but it was too late. I was seething, my nostrils flaring. “...bother-er. Ah-don’ wanna bother-er! She’s…fierssshe!” he spat in Josh’s face, making him scrunch his face in disgust. 

“Well, you should have thought about not bothering people before you got so shitfaced,” Josh spat back, completely ignoring what I just said. “This is your doing.”

What? I shot a deadly stare at Josh. No, it was absolutely not Jake’s doing that they were now standing in my living room. And regardless of the fact that I had work to do – and he knew that – he also knew how I felt about Jake, and was now putting me in a very uncomfortable position. “Out! All of you!” 

I’m pretty sure I must have looked like Wrath personified, because Jake whoa’ed again and Josh seemed to finally acknowledge his misconduct. He grabbed my hands in his, suddenly looking like a meek puppy. “I’m sorry, babe. Don’t be mad, hun. I know this is too much to ask, but do this for a friend. I beg you…”

“No, I beg you Josh!” I tried to sound as calm and collected as possible through my gritted teeth, knowing that being just mad would get me nowhere. Josh was too stubborn to ever acknowledge someone else’s anger and boundaries meant nothing to him once you became his friend, which basically meant family. However, he was empathetic. “You know I have a lot of baking to do tomorrow. I’m tired. Just please, take him home.”

Josh bit his lip and he looked like he was trying to say something and NOT say it at the same time. It was late and I felt awfully tired, but the whole thing seemed a bit fishy to me. Just when Josh nodded and finally opened his mouth to respond, Jake grabbed his shoulder. “Ah need to pee, Jawshy boy,” he whined and swayed dangerously, pouting his lips at his twin brother. He was already in his teddy bear phase which meant that he indeed wasn’t fit to be sent home alone in an uber. He’d be knocked out in no time, and even if Josh went with him, he’d have a hard time just getting him out of the car. 

Josh glanced sideways at the guy, who had been pretending to be invisible the whole time, and then looked at me pleadingly again. I capitulated. “OK, take that big baby to the bathroom and I’ll fetch some blankets,” I sighed. 

Together, they helped Jake get comfy on the couch and he fell asleep before his head even touched the pillow. And me? I felt relieved when I finally closed the door behind them and everything became quiet again, disturbed only by Jake’s light snoring.

They were taking their time, so once I fixed the makeshift bed, it was just me and the guy standing in the middle of the room, waiting, and it was getting increasingly awkward with each passing second. “So, you’re Y/N,” he finally spoke.

“Yeah,” I answered curtly, confirming the obvious. “We’ve met.”

“But we weren’t properly introduced yet. I’m Martin.” I shook Martin’s hand politely without really wanting to, because I knew that if they were heading to his place instead of Josh’s, it probably meant that the chances I’d see Martin again were quite low. Yet another reason for me being annoyed. 

I poured him a large glass of water, squeezed some fresh lemon juice into it and placed it carefully on a small table right next to his head before I switched off the light, leaving just a small table lamp on, and went back to my bed, hoping to spend the rest of the night in peace and get some much needed rest. 

However, the fact that there was Jacob Kiszka, Sir, lying unconscious on my couch right outside my bedroom door, made it a bit difficult to fall back to sleep. I had never been in a situation like this and it made me feel unpleasantly agitated. I wasn’t afraid of him. I just didn’t trust my own feelings. 

I should have been angry. 

But I was not. Not exactly. Not anymore. My heart wasn’t beating wildly out of annoyance. Instead, I felt like a schoolgirl, trapped in an elevator with that annoying boy from music class who was also her crush. There were many conflicting feelings inside both my head and chest; and knowing that he probably wouldn’t remember how he ended up on my couch come morning only made it all worse. 

I finally dozed off, but morning came sooner than I wished it would, and with it a headache. It felt like just a brief moment, filled with restless dreams about me and Jake dancing on the rooftop to Golden Slumbers playing out of nowhere, with sugar snowing down at us and our hands sticky with jam. Then he smeared some on my cheek and peppered it with kisses…

When I opened my eyes, the feeling still lingered, like powdered sugar on the top of my tongue. Soft and weightless like snowflakes, yet it lay heavily on my chest. Together with the lack of rest, it made me feel almost hungover-ish. I lied unmoving for a while, listening to the silence that surrounded me and wondering whether he was still there. Maybe he already woke up earlier and quickly sneaked out after realizing where he was. 

It was unlikely, but I could hardly ever control these self-deprecating thoughts. Especially regarding men. I cursed Josh once again and decided to take a quick cold shower to wake up my senses.

It helped only just a bit. Refreshed, I opened my bedroom door carefully and peaked inside the living room. He was still there, and fast asleep. Slowly, I creeped up on him on my tiptoes, and then spent several long seconds just watching him sleep, before I started to feel like a complete lunatic. But… he looked so peaceful and almost angelic in the milky morning light, lying on his side with his hands folded under his chin, his lips parted and brows relaxed. The glass was empty, and I couldn’t help but smile involuntarily. Once there was a way to get back homeward…

Then I remembered that this was no domestic idyl. I just had a drunk rock guitarist on my couch, and – let’s be brutally honest here – once I got past that dreamy visual illusion, a strong olfactory reminder of this much more prosaic reality hit my nostrils. 

I also had several large chunks of dough in the fridge and a debilitating headache that almost made me question all my life choices.

No, it didn’t.

But all those things had to be taken care of and I had no idea how. I tried to be as quiet as a mouse at first, but after realizing that it could take at least a couple more hours before he’d wake up, maybe even half a day – the time that I couldn’t afford to waste – I took Josh’s previous advice and decided to just ignore him. 

I really needed coffee… to get the stupid dream, and the song, and all my delusions out of my head. Did I forget that he was also a big-headed asshole? Yeah, that’s the spirit. 

It turned out that my worries were groundless anyway. I could make as much noise as possible in my adjacent kitchenette and he wouldn’t even stir. The motherfucker really seemed to be losing his hearing from standing in front of those huge amplifiers and the malicious creature inside my chest chuckled at the thought. 

I took the dough out of the fridge and let it soften at room temperature while I made myself some coffee and started to get everything ready. Clanking of baking sheets, coffee grinder, squeaking cabinet doors…nothing seemed to disturb my sleeping beauty. I kept casting wary glances at him every now and then at first, but soon I got accustomed to the unusual situation and just immersed myself in my work. 

I had my very elaborate system. I could fit twenty cut pieces – meaning ten cookies – on one sheet, there was roughly enough dough for approximately thirty sheets, it takes ten minutes to bake AND I had only four sheets. You can see I had to be very systematic. Preparation is the key and every minor disturbance could be disastrous. Thankfully, I’m a master multitasker. Still, I prayed to all the known and yet to be made-up deities that nothing would happen. No more surprises, please and thank you. 

A few hours passed and the delicious aroma of lemon and vanilla started to fill the room. I was also sweating like a pig, rolling and cutting the dough in haste, always making sure I had enough sheets ready so that there would be no idle time. Focused on the task ahead, I didn’t hear him stir, and my heart jumped in my throat when I finally looked up and saw those beady eyes watching me intently. 

I tried to keep my cool, looking down again quickly. “Well, good morning,” I mumbled. It was almost midday. 

“Morning, Y/N…,” he choked out huskily and finally tried to stand up, which only resulted in him groaning in pain and slumping back immediately. Oh yeah, consequences…

“Do you remember how you got here?” I asked tentatively. 

“I wish I could say I do, but to be honest, I’ve no idea,” he breathed out with his eyes closed. “I was just hanging out with Josh and the next thing I know I’m lying on your couch at blue hour, feeling half dead.” He finally opened at least one eye, just enough to be able to see me.

I nodded and continued cutting the dough. I wasn’t going to make it any easier for him. The timer just chimed and I had to switch the sheets anyway. 

“So?” 

Did I just hear annoyance and impatience in his voice? Oh yeah, a hungover asshole is still an asshole. It shouldn’t have surprised me. “What?” I spat back over my shoulder.

“Care to explain what the fuck I’m doing here?” 

I don’t understand how he always managed to just smash all my buttons with one single blow, and once again he made me see red. I literally threw the next sheet in the oven and slammed the door shut with a loud bang before I turned around and lashed out at him. 

“Oh I wish I knew the answer. Be so kind and ask your precious brother who literally just pushed you through my door in the middle of the night, half-conscious and reeking of whisky, because he wanted to get laid. You’re welcome! Fucker…”

He blinked a few times, obviously taken aback. 

“I’m sorry Y/N.” The tone of his voice changed and for a split second I almost regretted my curtness. Almost. “Just let me call an uber and I’ll be out of here in no time,” he mumbled, checking his pocket, while I watched him struggle with secret satisfaction. That headache must have been hellish. Good. At least I wasn’t the only one. 

He suddenly frowned and started rummaging in all his pockets frantically, including the jacket haphazardly thrown over the armrest. “Where the hell is my phone… and my valet… and my fucking keys. Y/N…did you take my stuff?” 

“What? No! The last thing I’d wanna do would be to prevent you from leaving.”

We were watching each other warily, both equally confused. Then it dawned on him. “I’m gonna kill that scrawny little bastard!” Straightening up, he closed his eyes and tried to take a deep breath in a futile attempt to fight off his growing nausea as well as the rage that made his nostrils flare. 

My anger dissipated in an instant… or, to be more precise, it was instantly redirected towards his twin. “I don’t understand. Why would he do that? He knows how busy I am today,” I whined. 

Jake didn’t respond. Instead, he asked for my phone. I quickly dialed Josh’s number and handed it to Jake, because the timer chimed again. 

It went straight to voicemail. 

As I was stacking freshly baked pieces on a tray placed on the small kitchen island which also served as my dining table, Jake leaned against it right opposite to me, looking absolutely miserable. “What now?” 

Am I their mother or what? I couldn’t drive him, but even if I did, he still didn’t have his keys. I couldn’t even call him an uber to Josh’s, because I knew that scrawny little bastard wasn’t there. It became obvious that Jake was stuck with me for at least another couple hours. He kept watching, obviously still waiting for me to say something, but I didn’t answer. Instead, I just sighed and grabbed the rolling pin again, aggravated with both of them and feeling like their hostage, stuck in the middle of their infantile games. The time was ticking, with my perfectly planned schedule already disrupted.

“Let me at least help you,” he looked at me hopefully with those puppy eyes they both shared. Fuckers. Seriously. Quirks of the mischievous nature that at one point decided that one of them wasn’t enough. 

“I think you should take a shower first.”

It was a deliberate jab, and I expected him to retort back just like he always did. I did NOT expect him to widen his eyes in genuine horror. “Is it that bad?” 

I didn’t dare answer that question but my face betrayed me when I looked at him sideways and bit my lip. He grabbed the collar of his shirt and took one tentative whiff. “Oh my god, it is. I think I need more than a shower, actually. I smell as if I slept in a puddle of beer.” 

I immediately regretted that I let him sleep on my couch, but he looked completely bashful and embarrassed and my previous unwillingness to continue helping him was already in shambles.

“Ok,” I sighed and put down the cookie cutter. “Come with me. I have some spare sweatpants. Thankfully, my ass is just as big as yours, but it might be a bit too tight around the waist…”

“Excuse me?” he protested, but otherwise obediently followed me into my bedroom. 

“You’re right. My mistake. Yours is bigger,” I chuckled at my own joke while rummaging in my drawer, before throwing him a pair of my favorite grey sweatpants, an old, oversize flannel shirt and a clean towel. “Everything else you might need is in the bathroom. The washing machine’s down in the basement.” 

“Thank you. Uummm…do you, perhaps, have a spare toothbrush? For friends... and such?” He smiled cheekily, testing my patience once again. But to be fair, he couldn’t have known that there was a shortage of “and such” people ever since I met him, because I just wasn’t interested in anyone else for a while now. 

“Yeah, there’s a couple of them in the purple cabi… oh fuck!” I quickly excused myself, alarmed by the smell of something burning, because I forgot to set the timer…

Too busy trying to stave off the impending disaster in my kitchen, I barely noticed him sneaking around me on his way down to the basement. So, when he knocked on the door a moment later and I answered it, the sight in front of me threw me completely off-guard. Being no stranger to Jake’s exposed chest, there was a strange sense of novelty in seeing him in my own unbuttoned shirt. Paul started singing inside my head again, but only until my eyes involuntarily slid further down, putting the song to an abrupt stop, just like a torn magnetic tape.

I was right about the waist being too tight, which meant he had it pulled down well below his navel, and seeing his happy trail made me scream internally. 

And to top it all off, he still had the towel wrapped around his head. 

I was not prepared for the feral reaction he suddenly elicited deep inside my body, and I’m sure he noticed, judging by the cocky half-smile that followed. I quickly turned away before I would compromise myself further. 

“I made you some coffee,” I nodded towards the steaming cup waiting for him on the counter, while still not daring to look directly at him again. “... and there are some popsicles in the freezer.”

“Thank yo… popsicles?!?” I might as well have suggested cotton candy, judging by the look he gave me, making me feel like an idiot,  so I quickly explained: “Yeah, they’re perfect when you wanna get rid of a hangover. Orange’s my favorite.” I still felt like an idiot. 

“I’m feeling better now.” His tone was kind and friendly, for which I was grateful, and I could hear him smiling, with my eyes still fixed on the small yellow circles in front of me. “I think I’m getting a bit hungry, though.”

“I’m not cooking anything now, Jake!” I placed the last little yellow circle on the sheet with care, before I started kneading another chunk of dough frantically.

“No, I didn’t mea…”

“There’s instant ramen on the top shelf.”

“Jesus Christ.” 

“Yeah, whatever.”

“What are YOU going to eat, Y/N?”

“I don’t have time for such luxuries right now…”

“Y/N!” He was leaning against the counter desk right in front of me again. I hadn’t even noticed him sneaking so close again, so his sudden exclamation made me jump. “You have to eat something. Look, your hands are shaking.” 

Yeah, no shit. But I’m not exactly hungry. There was a huge lump in my stomach, making it quite full. I was getting lost in the sea of my conflicting feelings again when all of the sudden, he put an abrupt stop to it like a fierce wave that sent me crashing on the shore, as he lifted my chin up gently with his index and middle finger. “Look at me, Y/N. I am going to fix us a quick lunch, ok?” 

“Ok…,” I peeped meekly. 

Jake just nodded, bound his damp, uncombed hair in a makeshift low bun with the band he always wore on one his fingers just in case, and started rummaging in my fridge. “Allrighty then! What do we have here…,” he crooned cheerfully.

And just like that, Paul was back… lalalalala.

To be continued...

@thewritingbeforesunrise @fleet-of-fiction @writingcold @lvnterninthenight @its-interesting-van-kleep   @takenbythemadness   @edgingthedarkness @myownparadise96 @gvfstuddedmajesty @jazzyfigz @sanguinebats @josh-iamyour-mama @lyndz2names @wetkleenex-gvf @peaceloveunitygvf @cheersdannyx2 @fleetingjake @lizzys-sunflower @emojakekiszka @gvfmarge @Dayumclarizzel @lipstickittty @clownstarr @gretasfallingsky @musicislove3389 @i-love-gvf @psychedelectable @allof--mylove @sacredsparrow @hearts-hunger

[betsybookworm]

Materials for spinning/weaving/knitting/crochet/etc are also generally quite expensive in the quantity needed for garments, but if you keep an eye out for people's destash stuff it's better.

Spinning is the slowest part of making any garment from scratch. Look at any of the back to back / sheep to jumper/sweater competitions and see the ratio of spinners to knitters. That said, spinning is very accessible and simple (particularly if you're spinning the most common kinds of wool), and once you've got the muscle memory built up it's quite mindless.

If you buy second hand looms or spinning wheels at an op shop or estate sale or otherwise not from the person who used it, be aware that it may require fixing up before use. Again, your local Spinners and Weavers Guild is the place to go for help and advice. I go to the same guild that @madanimalscientist goes to in Brisbane, and I've been going there on and off since 2002. If you're in Australia and want help finding your local guild I'm happy to give it a go!

A note about the poor quality commercial clothing thing - it is so true. I've been doing a lot of wardrobe culling lately and pulling so many dead clothes out. But now that I weave (I've only been weaving the past few years, I was a spinner and knitter long before that), I've started turning all the cheap dead clothes I have into rag rugs! My house is cosier, my cats love them, and it's a lot longer until all that poor-quality fabric ends up in landfill. If you haven't already, I highly recommend watching the ABC's The War On Waste show for some great material (pun intended) on the fast fashion waste problem, which is very much tied to the fast fashion poor quality problem.

I'm so pissed right now. I know that fabric has been declining in quality for a while but I just bought new pajamas from kmart and they are literally see through. Not just through one layer of fabric either; I can see through the leg, that is, through 2 layers of fabric. These aren't clothes. I am not exaggerating when I say that I have strained soup through cheesecloth thicker than these pants. These are men's flannel pajamas, the kind people wear in winter, and they are made if shittier thinner fabric than even the most bargain bin bullshit halloween costumes. This "flannel" feels like plastic and is thinner than a chux wipe. Why is this even for sale.

[cripplecharacters]

I have a question about an idea I've seen. This is going to be kind of weird and involves the death of a real person during an epileptic seizure, and whether or not giving the character epilpsy would be a good or a bad idea.

So, in this fandom I write for, one of the characters, Carlos de Vil, was played by disabled actor Cameron Boyce. Mr Boyce was epileptic and passed away during a seizure before the series was completed and Disney decided not to recast him, instead choosing to have Carlos pass away in some event that canon barely acknowledges (there are nods but no cause of death is ever given, not even one small clue. Carlos's death is simply "he's no longer with us and is missed dearly.") Because he is a main character, people have been trying to find and work in a cause of death for the character that would make sense. Recently, I've seen people giving Carlos Mr Boyce's disability, epilepsy, and I was wondering if that was something that should be done, if it's okay to do, or if it's just disrespectful to his memory no matter what. It just feels weird, especially when this evolves into Carlos's passing being due to seizure like Mr Boyce's. By the way, Mr Boyce's friends and loved ones have little to no interaction with the fandom and thus probably have no idea this is happening. If they do, they haven't given an opinion on it beyond "Please respect our privacy." Mr Boyce was also a fairly private person about his medical history. He kept it so that no one except the people closest to him in real life knew he was epileptic at all, and no one really knew he was epileptic and being treated for it until his passing was announced.

I don't know. Would giving Carlos epilepsy be a disrespectful thing to do, considering Mr Boyce passed during a seizure? Or is the idea kind of okay, but giving Carlos the same cause of death isn't? Or is there no problem with this as long as the depiction of epilepsy is accurate?

Hello!

This is... a complicated topic to say the least and there's not really one right answer I can give you. Everybody will have a different opinion on this and I can only share mine.

I do have some familiarity with the fandom and the character in question, though I've admittedly not been involved recently or seen any of the newer films/shows.

In most cases where real people are involved or can be affected, it's generally best to go by their wishes (Or, in lieu of that, their friends/family's wishes). This doesnt mean you have to ask an actor before you headcanon their character as having a disability, it just means that you should keep it in mind if it's something they've spoken against before.

In this situation, of course, that's not really something you can do. And from the sound of it, there's nothing to go on from his friends/family either beyond respecting their privacy.

Personally, I wouldn't do it. I've been seizure free for several years now but the idea of dying during a seizure is something that still terrifies me, especially considering how many close calls I had when I was a child. It's something that is incredibly traumatic, especially when you're young.

Although headcanoning a character as having the same disability as their actor can be done as a way to show respect, that becomes a lot more complicated when the actor in question has died -- and especially when it was because of that disability.

To me, this feels a bit insensitive -- especially given that the intent is to have had Carlos die from a seizure as well. The fact of the matter is that there's not really a need for it.

If the people responsible for the films had chosen to specify the cause of death and had mentioned Carlos having epilepsy as a tribute of some sort, that would be a little bit different in my view. It would have been done with careful consideration and -- hopefully -- with some thought for his family/friends and what it would mean to them.

But that's not what happened. They made the choice not to do that and instead decided to -- from the sound of it -- keep it purposefully vague. When writing fics or creating art or otherwise interacting with the fandom, it's incredibly easy to either follow that and also keep it purposefully vague or invent another reason. In short, the reasoning behind headcanoning Carlos as having died from a seizure seems to be more out of convenience or some sort of "hey look, both of them had epilepsy!" thing instead of any attempt at a tribute or anything like that.

Giving Carlos epilepsy, however, in situations where Carlos wouldn't have died (In AUs, settings before his death, etc.) would be a bit different but it should still be done with care and consideration.

That said, this is just my opinion on the matter. Having Carlos die from a seizure rubs me the wrong way and feels like it's in bad taste but it's not something that's actively causing real harm, especially since you mentioned that his family/friends are likely unaware of all this.

Essentially, if it's something you want to do you're free to do it/keep doing it. But I'd strongly encourage people to think about why they're doing it and to consider alternate options.

Cheers,

~ Mod Icarus

[vparka]

Thinking about Montague's hotel, the Grand Glacier. It's so preeetttyyyyyy. i'm almost always landing there when I play BR,,,

Can you imagine an alternative universe where Montague and Midas grow old together and they own the hotel ??

Like, they're the lovely old couple that owns a luxurious hotel (the papers have Montague's name, but since Midas is his husband, he's the co-owner now) !!! people don't know about it now 'cause of the years that have passed, but on their prime years they both were an absolute menace and cooked evil plans on there. but now they're old and retired, you can see Montague having breakfast and greeting the guests mindlessly while Midas sits down on their usual table, kisses Montague's forehead and gives him his usual coffee. Montague would slice his pain au chocolat in half and offer it to Midas, who instead of taking it would take a bite while Montague holds the pastry. Montague might look annoyed and say something like

"it's your fault my hair is greying now, i can't with you."

but Midas would smile a little bit and respond something like

"But you look really good with grey hair."

Montague would take a sip of his coffee to break eye contact and whisper. "You too. You're lucky you're aging really well. Comme un bon vin." [Like fine wine.] they're both disgustingly sweet. <3

They reminisce about the chaos they caused together on the island: raids, killing enemies, stealing data, evil masterplans. the usual romantic stuff. They sit and think about it on one of the benches in the hotel's garden. And they just love each other so much: when they aren't together they definitely glance at their diamond&gold matching rings. definitely. methinks.

They're also still kind of cold towards others and ppl don't know how they got together, but only they & ppl who are close to them know how well they fit together...

Aaaaand... they might be the kind of grandparents that will give money and candy to their grandchildren when the parents aren't looking. bonus points if its Midas sneaking a couple of golden coins to Jules' kids (Nitroengineering!!!)

[xxwelxx]

PJSK DOODLE DUMP!!

The nene and rui were one of the first ever things I drew from pjsk (emu and tsukasa’s hairs were genuinely a nightmare to figure out..)

[arlathmyheart]

Interesting. I reckon both yes and no.

Rook is a people person who helps others much like felassan.

However Rook is still in the leadership role and fighting against the (surviving) evanuris like a young fen harel did. They are unexperienced but smart and willing/forced to act when necessary.

Rook bridges the gap as a kind of conscious fen harel who never loses sight of the cost of sacrifice. They keep their principles intact presumably.

Like felassan ROOK keeps morale high and stands with their cause. For instance they never see themselves as akin to a god.

Like solas they end up having to make hard decisions, some of which they regret.

Notably Rook has millennia less experience of various wars and memories from fighting the evanuris than solas. Thus less regret etc.

Rook mostly differs from solas in their ability to move on from their regrets etc.

What is interesting is how solas uses his regrets. He cherishes some and he values memories. He paints his or wishes to forget some. They work slightly differently for him. This may or may not be due to his spirit nature.

What will they call you when this is over?>

As rooks dialogue after the treviso/minrathous choice shows they go forward by choosing either: confidence, pragmatism or acceptance.

Later in game datv plays into the idea that rook acts as hubris (fen harel) to a solas who is becoming too prideful akin to elgarnan. They ruin his plans. They show him that he could have another path. They show that he could be beaten.

Rook maintains that the veil must remain. The cost is too great. Solas would only sate his conscience and not deliver the world/elves. Very pragmatic.

Solas seems to tell himself that it is for mythal to an extent (and all he has sacrificed). It is hard to tell if this is a overjustification or not. They have so much history. Plus we don’t learn if he was truly bound and enslaved to her will or just loyal to her due to their friendship/kinship? And her benevolence.

We do know for sure that Solas also sacrificed a lot of himself and others lives. He let spirits/people die for him as well as giving up his spirit form and essentially his own principles (his actual nature of being) He was a spirit of wisdom that she weaponised. This twisted him from his purpose to pride.

The main difference seemingly between the two is that rook is not from a spirit (presumably) and that they do not work alone (or else you get a bad ending)

Rook also doesn’t seem to have a mythal figure guiding them except for perhaps the player? Or even Solas himself.

Rook then acts as a young solas who had instead trusted his friends (if he had many/any? This is something that we don’t really learn. The relationships solas had were very strained despite time as he says himself). Thus Rook may be akin to a version of the past fenharel had he talked with felassan and chosen to act on his advice.

Presumably this would have changed the outcome of the past and solas may have then acted differently. This would not change the nature of pre veil mythal however.

The painful irony is that becoming the dreadwolf was presumably solas’ first main action against mythal/the evanuris after years of not being listened to. This was when he finally took a stand and tried to change things for the better. Felassan was the one who helped create the myth of the dreadwolf. He was supposed to keep solas in check.

Oh my god. This unplanned essay has made me think that more accurately: VARRIC is truly the character akin to felassan.

Going by masked empire and celene/briala as parallel to mythal/solas as the two have an odd/abusive relationship where each uses the other while maintaining a somewhat loving relationship.

Solas has his chance to rescind the past somewhat with Varric at the ritual. Varric tried to give him another option. Again Solas refuses this. This is expected given felassans fate in TME.

To listen to Varric/felassan in that moment would be for Solas to forfeit the past and to accept all his wrongdoings ended up just that. That unwittingly down the line he had made exclusively bad decisions despite having best intentions. (He is smart enough to half predict/know this and so he can only really either blame himself or mythal for it is she who is the one that continued forcing his hand and not listing to his reservations) She made him take a body, she maintained that to end a war titans should be sundered. He was the one who went along with it and made the dagger and (made/utilised?) the prison for the titans dreams. He followed her regardless thus being complicit in the events that unfolded.

Therefore Solas is also to blame for not acting against her and letting her continue with her version of events. (that is a lot of guilt) He does not move against her until he becomes fen harel. However in acting as fenharel he also ends up acting alone, thinking it the better option.

However young Solas still wants the best for Mythal (and hopes she will join his rebellion) but he ultimately loses Mythal when she tries to chastise? The evanuris for experimenting with the blight and they murder her.

Ironically in doing this she acts alone and it is her deference and pride of godhood that likely made her think she would be untouchable. If she didn’t care about her title she may have joined solas. Is she acted on solas’ advice solas may also have had more cause to trust in others beyond using them for his rebellion.

However we can’t truly tell if instead Mythal was utilising politics/manipulation for control rather than bringing more war on the elves. (a kindness?) We just don’t know enough about it.

“In desperation” then solas plots his revenge and seals up the blighted gods. This is no mean feat. He also doesn’t tell felassan his plans. The veil was created as a side effect of his powerful spell which thus altered the world and lead to the fall of elvhenan. He is far more ruthless now and yet imprisons the gods rather than killing them. (Presumably they could be freed if they managed to move past their regrets which would require them to self reflect or even feel remorse at all for their past tyranny). They are very powerful and hard to kill.

We don’t find out how exactly the prisons work as another is made. Presumably the first is the black city which also contains the blight. The second is the regret jail that rook is familiar with.

The difference here then must be varric’s effect on Rook. Or possibly more relevantly the inquisitor.

Varric acts as mentor and story teller. His is a slight guiding hand. He maintains actual faith in the inquisitor (no matter what they say) and imparts his kindness onto rook. He tries to change solas’s mind. His written stories will shape others thoughts.

He feels guilty for the lyrium dagger. He has lost Hawke. He by all rights is like felassan in TME.

Now the inquisitor themselves is one of the only living people in thedas that can conceivably understand how SOLAS felt during his rise to infamy as FEN HAREL. They are the closest to god like status in modern thedas and the inquisitor, having killed Corypheus, knows what it is like to raise an army or to fight a false god (or Titan?) on their own.

Inquisitor relied on their advisors and interestingly solas/Varric in their rose to power. They both shape how inquisitor feels about spirits or faith.

If anything then the inquisitor may be closest to a pre veil mythal or evanuris who is trying to keep a status quo of peace in a breaking world. Like solas they acted as a god and saved the world.

Ironically fen harel too has the option to be like the other evanuris. He both is and isn’t part of the pantheon. The question of their godhood lies in their morality and lust for power.

Now to change his mind solas hears from: mythal, rook, and inquisitor.

I think we are righting past wrongs to an extent: THIS MIRRORS THE REGRET DEMON STORY BEAUTIFULLY. TRICK WEEKES YOU!!!

Rook offers Solas another option despite it all (like Varric/Felassan) to give up the past. It is a lot of trust to simply hand him the dagger and yet a spirit will become what it is expected to be.

Rook keeps their faith in solas despite his betrayal. This could be a similar idea to how a young solas still followed mythal. It is a complex relationship depending on the players pov (datv solas = preveil mythal) (rook = preveil solas)

Fix 1- ROOK/YOUNG SOLAS LISTENING TO HIS FRIENDS AND STAYING TRUE TO SELF AGAINST FEN HAREL/MYTHAL. - sate conscience

Mythal (Mythal) concedes her part in using him and twisting him to pride . That they both did awful things that were wrong. He is released from her service.

Fix 2- FORGIVING HIMSELF FOR THEIR PAST BAD DECISIONS - forgive himself/mythal

The inquisitor (post veil Fen harel) tells him that he is free to find a better way. He now can see the way.

Fix 3- CHOOSING A NEW PATH FOR HIMSELF - freed spirit

It is sad and he is alone (unless solavellan) but now freed Solas chooses to seek atonement. He starts to move forward. I think he is so brave and I love him for it.

He is scared of dying alone and yet his life sustains the veil. He is scared to die and yet also scared to be alone. Plz give him Lavellan tho guys he is a good boy at heart.

This was unplanned. It is imperfect and it is late but it is my current musing on the subject. I may revisit this writing in time.

Honestly? Rook is more a foil of Felassan than Solas, Inky is Solas' foil.

[myreygn]

modern au dad askeladd except he's not an actual dad but this random kid shows up to his house every day and tries to have beef over the closed food store askeladd bought and turned into an antiquarian store. turns out the food store used to be run by the kid's father until he passed away which is very sad of course but also askeladd is not gonna cooperate with some brat that borderline harasses him day by day. only that he can't call the cops because he kinda has a turbulent past and if they find out he's filling his store with stolen goods it's gonna become a huge problem. and note to destiny, the stupid kid finding out is not that great either because now he has to hear it out if he doesn't wanna go to prison and also he should probably learn the demon child's name while he's at it. shenanigans ensue.

[chiropteracupola]

a little pain now, to save a great deal more pain later

[flintlock fortress is a collaboration with @dxppercxdxver]

[phoenixcatch7]

If there's one thing I like more than time travel it's crossover reincarnation, so.

Botk link reincarnated as Damian Wayne.

An incredible weapon master of all types, but especially prodigious with a sword - he was beating knights at the age of 4 and with his memories as intact as they get for him I can see that goalpost moving even further (probably with traps and tricks, a 3yo doesn't exactly have great bodily control).

He's an excellent survivalist, agile, strong, durable, cunning and creative. He can move like a feather in the breeze, strike from behind with ease. His first kill, an animal, did not stir him as it did the other children. With his poise, grace, skills, obedience, he ought to be ra'as' finest assassin in the making, a jewel in the crown of the league.

Except he never speaks a word. Half his targets escape unscathed. He skates by true punishment on the merit of his skills and achievements in other missions. Testing has shown it is not a physical deformity that prevents his speech, but not even talia has been able to coaxe a word from him past his second birthday.

It is a defect ra'as is growing more and more frustrated by, as each attempt to fix these two final flaws ends in resounding failure. Less extreme solutions are running dry.

Talia fears those solutions. Her child does too, she knows. For them, there is a possible solution, more extreme than anything ra'as would tolerate.

She sends him out of the league. To his father.

To Gotham.

[thethingything]

I hate that feeling of like, knowing you have some emotional stuff going on in the background that you have to process but you can't seem to access the emotions properly or figure out exactly what's going on with them so you have no fucking clue where to start. like okay I know I have to deal with this shit but I'd at least like to know what shit I'm trying to deal with

[dawei-s]

Close to my grandma's age when she had my dad literally wtf

[allylikethecat]

To the anon that has recommended The Secret History by Donna Tartt to me - I haven't started it yet but I bought it today and it is now in my possession 😊

[005mins]