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jamesunderwater · 1 year ago

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Word Search Game!

I was tagged by many of my lovely friends, so I decided to compile them all in one post. I wasn't able to find them all, but did my best. some of them are from published dtm snippets, which I noted, but everything else is from a WIP. thank you for the tags!! this was really fun.

@practicecourts Beach, office, wisecrack, dead, and bonus: proposition @kay-elle-cee grin, soft, heart, pain @uncertainwallflower quiet, reach, light, back @athenasparrow whisper, smirk, wall, lick

tagging: @deermessrs @basslineescapeact @mvnvgedmischief with the words ghost, bite/bit, groan, long

my answers below the cut cause this shit got long <333

Office (dead to me, published)

“All I’m saying is, we’ve been talking about breaking into McGonagall’s office all year and I’m a little disappointed that we’d waste this hallmark of our careers on-”

Dead (dead to me, unpublished)

“Nothing,” he deadpanned, because he didn’t know how to explain that he didn’t want to be acting this way at all, in fact wanted to be acting the opposite, but something in his body was shaking with anger and he didn’t know where to put it.

Proposition (dead to me, published)

“We could go work on it in the library instead, if you’d like? Or in the common room, if it’s not too crowded.” She looked back up at him, trying to gauge his intentions. Was he propositioning her, offering to be alone again so they could pick up where they left off? And if he was…did she mind? Of course she minded. His whole nice boy routine was nauseating. If he wanted to fuck her again, he could just say so.

Grin ("sad fic" or Is it Me for You?)

James came out and slammed the door in excitement, his grin wide at the sight of them. “STAG PARTY!!!!!” He bellowed as way of introduction. The four of them screamed back, arms up, “STAG PARTY!!!!!” and for a single moment Sirius thought maybe this could feel normal, after all.

Soft ("country roads fic")

I found out they were like me. Unwanted just because of who they were. I looked at Reggie, just fifteen, with the softest skin I’d ever seen, innocent eyes, eyes that were just asking for somebody to love him. And I felt all the rage I never could quite feel for myself—because what kind of monsters sent this kid out in the cold? Just because they’d gotten it wrong? Just because he told them the truth of who he was? “Fuck them all,” I said to the sky. Sirius nodded beside me. “Fuck them all. We don’t need ‘em.” “Never did,” I agreed.

Heart ("country roads fic")

Fuck you! Turning on my heel, sharp and quick, kicking up dust as I bounded towards my mother, the cigarette smoke still sliding out of her lips. Fuck you, fuck Richard, fuck your stupid fuckin’ hair and your stupid fuckin’ nails and every fuckin’ thing about this place! I hope he has a heart attack while he’s mounting you and crushes you under his 250 pound lard of a body, how’s that for perverted?

Pain (dead to me, unpublished)

He had to reach hard to grasp the knob, but as soon as he did there was an echo of voices: What do you think you’re doing?! They were frantic, a painful ringing in his ears; he heard the high tone of his mother, the gravel of Sirius, the low timber of his father.

Quiet (dead to me, unpublished)

His mother had been reading a book when he asked her—standing to the left of her favorite armchair, one of his small hands touching her arm. She took a very long time to answer him, so long that he patted her again. “Mum! Mum, can I have one?” He paused, then realized why she must have been quiet, “Can I have one, please?”

Reach (dead to me, unpublished)

He was toying with the snitch, letting it fly just out of reach before snatching it back again. Remus was reading his Herbology book, and Peter was flying around the pitch on James’s broom. The sun had just set, but they had the invisibility cloak to get them back into the castle unseen.

Light ("sad fic" or Is it Me for You?)

He tried to convince himself that this was him being normal. This was him saying, see? We can be friends. But in another light he knew he looked like a tryhard, just begging for a full conversation. Just one fucking conversation where Remus didn’t disappear in the middle of it.

Back (brand new secret smut fic)

After, James felt extremely grateful that no one had been looking. Because what had started as their lips pressed softly together turned into one of them stepping closer, neither of them pulling away, both of them placing a hand on the other’s side, someone opening their mouth just so, the other slipping a tongue across their lip… And then they’d pulled back, stunned, a bit of James’ drink having spilt on the floor, neither of them breaking eye contact for what felt like an hour.

Whisper (dead to me, unpublished)

He’d heard her conversation with McGonagall, of course, the flimsy curtains in the hospital wing doing nothing to block their voices. But he’d intended to keep her secret, having seen the look on her face when McGonagall left, the way she stared with empty eyes at the floor. He’d seen what a private thing this was for her, so sitting around while his peers whispered about the news, he wanted to tell them to shove off.

Smirk (dead to me, unpublished)

“Honestly, I’m glad for it,” he went on, looking away. “She’s a stubborn arse. Good luck with that.” He managed a true and proper smirk, which Sirius latched onto. Rolling his eyes, the other boy sighed. “It’s gonna be a nightmare.”

Wall ("sad fic" or Is it Me for You?)

When he thought of Remus Lupin in a suit, in a room full of promises of forever, Sirius Black wanted to punch a wall.

Lick (brand new secret smut fic)

James did not know how anyone would say no to blank wordlessly requesting to take off their top, so he lifted his arms, and suddenly the jumper was gone, the cold air licking his chest. “Fuck,” blank whispered, running a hand up James’ chest, and James’ trousers had been tight before, but they were positively bursting at the seams now.

#this was seriously so fun #WIP tag #wip stuff #dead to me #country roads fic #my writing

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lotusflowersimagines · 1 year ago

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Hey, I saw you do sibling scenarios/sibling content, so..

Could I possibly ask for Emma Magorobi or Xander Matthews sibling headcanons?

Sure anon! I think i'll just do Emma since shes quite a dynamic character to work with, but you can re-request for Xander if you'd like.

So sorry for lack of content to all others who have sent requests, after getting sick recently i've been suffering creative burnout and have been just generally unmotivated. However I have started all of the requests in some way or another and will get to all of them eventually! Thank you for your support and patience!

NOTES: Non-Despair AU, Character/Reader siblings, G/N reader, brief mentions of Emma's past (its nothing serious though), VOID has a 'found family' relationship in a way

~ Emma Magorobi w/ a sibling! (HC's)

You and Emma most definitely have a close relationship, no matter the dynamic you two share or in general just how different you are from eachother

At the end of the day, she's just happy to have a sibling and she'd never have it any other way, whether you were with her in the darkest times of her earlier life or through the new family shes come to know and love; you mean so much to her!

I can see her looking after you a lot, like if you forgot something at home on your way to school, she'll make sure to have a replacement for that thing or takes it and gives it to you if she notices you not having taken it yourself

Sometimes you jokingly call HER 'mom' or 'grandma em' because of the way she acts/dresses; she pretends to hate it but actually thinks its a little funny

Speaking of jokes you can't convince me Emma isn't a memer, she sends you dumb things she found on pinterest or old vine compilations and references them constantly, even if only to get a reaction out of you

She means no harm of course, but teasing you is just too funny! She can't help it!

Naturally it doesn't stop at just teasing, you get the short end of the stick with her jokes just like Hajime. You've been sitting through her nonsense for your whole life by now, it's as if shes some sort of joke encyclopedia because she has at least TWO for everything

If you do happen to have a similar sense of humor though, you guys would be having all-out pun wars for who can out-joke the other

Void is subjected to almost all of you and Emma's wars whenever you're invited to visit, which is not often because they insist that ONE Emma was enough

But oh, otherwise Void is actually quite fond of you! (even if you may have your differences with any members)

Nikei would be pestering you nonstop for your likes, dislikes, etc.. He never goes for the 'pervy' joke question though, he thinks it'd be weird because you're Emma's sibling.

Iroha is always dragging you around to show off her art in the hopes that you'll like it, maybe you can help her paint too?

You've probably already met Hajime before because of him being closer to Emma, but somehow he's even MORE motherly than her so you quickly shift your 'ok mom' jokes to him aswell. He doesn't know what to say to that and it confuses him more than anything

A lot of things depend on you liking Mikado, if it's AI!Mikado you're probably iffy on him; no-one can be THAT charming and creepy at the same time, he's probably like a serial killer or something, if you ever told him that though he'd tell on you to Emma, who would ignore him and leave him defeated ("Boo-hoo.. Y/N really thinks so lowley of me! I'm in tears!")

If it's IRL!Mikado though, you and him probably wouldn't talk much in the first place. He's not very good with new people and probably made a nervous error that made him too emberassed to talk to you for a while. He'll warm up eventually but you probably know him as the guy whos typing away on his computer all the time Overall, you and Emma have a pretty eventful life and are always finding new things to do. She really is glad to have family like you, afterall, it's all she's ever wanted

#sdra2 x reader #emma magorobi #sdra2 #emma magorobi x reader

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bnavmo · 2 months ago

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compiled relatability

you know i really got i thing for gentle/hardcore guys

i mean, sigh, sickening eyes

i can tell that you're in touch with your feminine side

enamorada de tu pistola

roja amapola

crash, esa ola

casi me controla

i want this like a cigarette

can we drag it out and never quit?

and, oh my god, you're heaven sent

with your dirty mind, you're perverted

sorry i'm a little scared

but no one ever really cared

(uh-huh)

i took you for granted

(yeah, i did)

just a big misunderstanding

tonight we're going hard

just like the world is ours

we're tearing it apart

you know we're superstars

cos we are who we are

we're dancing like we're numb

our bodies going numb

we'll be forever young

you know we're superstars

yeah, we are who we are

bass kicking so hard

blazing through my beating heart

french kissing on the floor

heart is beating hardcore

bear with the madness, us against the world

and every heartbeat felt like this is what we deserve

dade country dreaming

head out the sunroof, girls are screaming

back to scheming

she know how to give, but she love receiving

i split the apple down symmetrical lines

and what i find is kind of scary, makes me just wanna drive (drive)

cr0, i'm from the ends, but i'm an actor

smile in your face all of the pricks, all of the wankers

i had to chill, smoke it away, manage my anger

cos every night, i live and die

meet somebody, take 'em home

let's kiss and then take off our clothes

it's just another graceless night

but all that i want

is to wake up fine

tell me that i'm alright

that i ain't gonna die

las time i told mom that "i love you"

was the last time i ate food from the drive thru

it never happened like they say

i think my father may be gay

and i should be everything you hate

i should be high and out in space, but i'm ecstatic

court almost burned down my home

and god, it must feel good not be alone

sometimes, this ranch feels like my only friend

and life doesn't always work out like we planned

but we keep it moving, babe

{limones en los árboles y en el suelo

sandalias en los estribos de los escúteres

bebidas naranja neon en la playa

cuatro generaciones hacen una familia}

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beyondedenton · 3 months ago

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Long Distance || Sprig + Isaac || June, 2022

Sprig: {Text: Picture sent to Isaac}

Isaac: Isaac wouldn't see the text until a few hours after it was sent. He was still helping compile data and planning for the response of what happened in New Orleans. To his dissatisfaction, this meant he wasn't on guard duty or out in the field, merely back at Site 86 pushing papers for the moment.

He finally saw the text when he returned to his quarters after a briefing. She was a welcome sight, though such a flirtatious photo hardly seemed fair.

{Text} Hey Love, having a lazy day for once?

Sprig: Ahhh. He still called her love after all this time? All this time, as though it has been years. Not terribly long in the grand scheme, but too long to an insatiable mortal.

Isaac hadn't been a dream. She wanted to experience his presence, even in something as little as a text. It was enough to give her hope.

{Text} Day off! Had a dream about you

Isaac: {Text} Lucky you, just got off myself

{Text} Did I have two heads in this dream?

He wouldn't mention that he too had dreamt of her on rare occasions. Mainly because the dreams were either pure nonsense or intense nightmares.

In any case, it was nice to hear from this beautiful creature again.

Sprig: {Text} Why would you have two heads?!

{Text} You were working in the bakery with me and we were selling to ghosts before they crossed over

Isaac: Cute.

{Text} Well I have two heads in real life... Making sure I'm in one piece lol.

{Text} Was I any good? Never been much of a baker

Sprig: {Text} Ohhh you're a pervert!

{Text} You were a good salesman

Isaac: {Text} You say that like you didn't already know.

{Text} At least I'm good for something lol. How've you been Love?

Sprig: {Text} Is it weird to say I miss you?

{Text} Next time I bake I'll send you door to door offering to my neighbors lol

Isaac: {Text} Wanna do a call instead? Because I'm missing you too

Sprig: {Text} Okay!

Isaac's phone would ring some thirty seconds later.

Isaac: Isaac was over thirty, had been to war twice, chased down monstrosities and beaten others into submission. And yet, here he was, feeling giddy and getting butterflies waiting for Sprig's call.

He picked up on the first ring as he made sure his quarters were closed.

"Hey."

Sprig: "Hey, handsome!" She sounded happier than she realized she would. Covered her mouth out of shame she didn't truly feel. She was, however, blushing.

"What time is it there?"

Isaac: "Uh... In normal time? I don't have a normal clock nearby. We go by zulu time down here. So..." shuffling could be heard as he settled into his bed. "Two in the afternoon? Roughly? What time is it for you?"

Sprig: "Zulu like -" she didn't want to sound ignorant, but she couldn't lie and say she knew anything about it. "-what's that?" she sighed and laughed.

Isaac: "It's like a very specific military time. It's so that everyone around the world can operate on the same clock to avoid confusion. That and there aren't really any windows here, so day and night are just made up anyways." He chuckled at the last part. He also thought this might weird her out. Then again, their relationship was anything but normal.

Sprig: "Well, in central time it's nine in the morning." She was still wrapping her head around this Zulu business. She would look into that later.

"About to roll out of bed and make french toast fingers." She wished he was here to share it with.

Isaac: "Ah, yummy. You make em' homemade?"

Sprig: "Just stale bread, yeah. My roommate showed me how. What you have today?"

Isaac: "Eggs, toast. I'm not the biggest on breakfast, so I usually keep it simple."

This idle chatter, he was never one for small talk. Not with people he actually cared about.

"I miss you. Like, a lot."

Sprig: Talking in general was usually kept minimal. Easy to do when most people were irritating to even look at.

"How long does it look until we can see each other again?" She bit her lip, staring at the ceiling.

Isaac: "I have no idea. This work keeps me moving, you know that." Isaac felt guilty, giving her such a shitty answer. He never should've involved himself with her, he knew it would end up like this.

"The most I can probably muster is a visit sometime in the future. It'd only be a visit though." Isaac was hoping that she hadn't intended on waiting for him.

Sprig: But that was exactly what she intended. She hadn't been looking for companionship like his to begin with. Only the day to day struggle of her condition, a job, and getting to tomorrow. He was absolutely something to look forward to, and that made him a bittersweet flavor.

"Still don't want me to join?" she asked, carefully.

Isaac: "No, it's bad enough they know you exist. Last thing I would want is for you to get in even deeper."

Sprig: Her sigh could be heard through the phone, but she wouldn't argue. She had already said her piece. Believed she had something to offer, but in the end, she didn't need some organization to do what she did. New Orleans was certainly big enough.

"How much time do you have?"

Isaac: "I just finished for the day, and I didn't have anything planned tonight either. So, lots of time."

Sprig: "Is it weird to watch a movie together?"

Isaac: "I guess not? How would that even work anyways?"

Sprig: "I dunno, I've never done it before," she said, sheepishly.

Isaac: "Alright, let's start with what movie do we want to watch?"

Sprig: A part of her thought he would say no. Her idea had been off the cuff and maybe it showed. She hummed in thought.

"What do you watch on YouTube?"

Isaac: "Uh... Not much honestly. Sometimes I'll watch firearm reviews or historical stuff. So probably pretty boring for you. What about you?"

Sprig: Sprig was biting back a smile.

"History stuff. A lotta ghost stuff. See if people are full of shit or like me."

Isaac: "Sounds like we're watching history. Pick a video and send me a link."

#long distance #isaaccolbert #sprighamby #discord rp #closed #reynard91

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lookinghalfacorpse · 2 years ago

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in the wild all lessons last - extra scene 1

hello!! thinking of posting extra scenes and other random stuff that doesn’t fit into my fics on tumblr! if i get enough i’ll compile them on ao3 but for now y’all can have this

takes place between chapters 2 & 3 (dream is taking his first nap outside the torture box)

read the full fic here , info and trigger warnings here

“He looks like he’ll just… stop breathing at any moment,” Phil said with a nervous smile, “doesn’t he?”

Technoblade nodded. They sent Dream to bed an hour ago and checked on him twice during that time, and he hadn’t moved a single muscle since they last saw him. Techno grew all-too familiar with Dream’s sleeping habits after spending three months in an obsidian box with him, and even his rest seemed restless. His hands would wander and grasp, his breath would hitch and sigh at random. But now, looking small and unguarded in the center of the guest room bed, Dream was completely still and his breath was horrifyingly slow. There were several, long seconds between each inhale and exhale, and it was far too easy to imagine his chest stilling completely.

“He didn’t sleep like this in the prison,” Techno said.

“I believe it.” Phil sat on the edge of the mattress and took hold of Dream’s wrist, gently turning it and placing two fingers there, feeling his pulse. Dream didn’t stir or react. “He’s exhausted. I was almost putting him to sleep in the bath, did you see that?”

“I did see that.”

“This is probably the most comfortable he’s been in months, I guess it’s not surprising that he’s sleeping so… so deeply.” Brows furrowed, Phil switched to feeling the pulsepoint on Dream’s neck instead. “He’s just making me nervous.”

Techno crossed his arms across his chest. His body cast a long shadow over the mattress, dwarfing the other two men. Both Philza and Dream were so damn small. So much for hibernating, he supposed; he should be awake to protect them. “Think he’ll make it?”

“Oh, he’ll be alright, mate. Don’t you worry. He survived this long with very minimal care; he’ll thrive with good food and some careful treatment. If we sent him out into the wilderness, I think he would’ve dropped by now. But he’ll be fine here.”

The dogs were curious about Dream. Many of them stopped in, sniffed at him, and then went about their way, while others investigated the worst of his injuries, undoubtedly smelling blood there. Some welcomed themselves to his bed and laid alongside him, thankfully avoiding his wounds. All the commotion still didn’t wake him, and he didn’t even move much in response. Even his hair, which Phil tucked behind his ear during their last check-in, didn’t budge.

One dog was keeping a diligent eye on Dream since only a few minutes after he fell asleep. One of Techno’s biggest pups-- a survivor who endured Doomsday and all of the many battles that followed. She didn’t hop onto the mattress, but instead opted to sit like a statue near the nightstand. Her eyes, dark and observant, watched Phil’s hands as he quickly examined the bandages that were within reach.

Techno smiled. She was going to do this whether or not he asked her to, so he might as well make it official. “Come up here, Em,” he said, patting the mattress.

She obeyed, jumping up and sitting exactly where she was instructed. Techno took one of Dream’s hands in his own and displayed his palm to her. “This is Dream, okay? I dunno if you remember him or not, he was pretty different when you last saw him. He’s hurt right now, see?”

Em sniffed at his hand, nose lingering at the missing finger, long black eyelashes fluttering.

“He’s yours. Watch him. Make sure he doesn’t do anythin’ stupid, and if he needs somethin’, tell me or Phil. Probably Phil.”

Risking a glance at Philza, he saw his old friend smiling.

“This is gonna be a tough job, alright? This guy is stubborn, and he pushes too far.” Em traced her nose up Dream’s arm, nestling it into his neck as she sniffed at him. She lifted his jaw a bit in her investigation, and his next exhale came as a sigh. “This is the last thing I’ll ever ask of you. I’ve put you through enough. Sound like a deal?”

Without any further complaint or suggestion, Em laid down and placed her head directly in the center of Dream’s chest. A protective and reassuring position-- and, of course, it put her ears directly on top of both his lungs and heart.

Phil chuckled beside him. One of those low, throaty chuckles he did when he was using those mind-reading powers that Techno could never get him to admit to.

“What is it, Philza?”

“Oh, nothing, mate.” Phil patted a hand on Em’s back. “I’ll feel a little better with someone else watching his vitals. The biscuits are probably done, we should go take a look.”

#in the wild all lessons last #itwall #oh no why is it itwall #itwall????!!!!!!!#extra scenes #my fic #itwall extra scenes

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renatapatata · 4 years ago

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UNUS ANNUS GOODBYE LIVESTREAM HIGHLIGHTS;

(From someone that watched it completely despite completely ruining their sleep schedule as a result,, worth it tho ✌)

They rented and set up an Unus Annus themed room and had a laptop between them to directly check out videos on, as well as a timer on a screen to remind us of their impending doom.

Amy (bless her soul) was the true moderator who from a?? Tech spot above them would speak into her mike like God and direct them to looking at out of context screenshots, memes and fanart from over the past year.

They scrolled through the channel from beginning to end and had the time to watch a dozen of them - particularly like a video from each 'era' ish of the channel, like the first ones or Camp Unus Annus as well as fan/their favorites.

All the editors got shout outs + were probably tasked to make a compilation video of the edits they were individually tasked to do and ended up making just absolute masterpiece tributes 😳

They watched videos such as Mark and Ethan Attempt an Escape Room, DIY Chiropractor, DIY Geriatric Simulator and so on...

Mark had never seen one of their last videos, Ethan Kidnaps Mark, which was the pre 'The Truth of Unus Annus' video and was basically Ethan's version of the Mark's Outside Escape Room from Camp Unus Annus.

DJ Burt Blackarach sent them a cake + bottle of champagne and ☠ y'know Ethan doesn't play with baked goods due to his peanut allergy and Mark cant drink alcohol but they appreciated the sentiment (we all did c'mon it was super sweet)

Mark got the bug watch for Amy that he'd accidentally donated in that early on video with Sean about Donating Toys to Charity!!

They almost killed a video that they found mediocre (but that is actually one of my faves ngl) aka How Much Caffeine Can Kill a Man but at the Last Second they realized that they probs shouldn't get rid of a video beforehand fnfnfn with the reasoning being that it could be someone's birthday video and that it deserved to live till the bitter end (that being of like. 5 extra hours)

There was lots of general shenanigans and ramblings/bits from time to time, with Mark and Ethan being pretty content and ready to say goodbye to the channel.

Oh yeah and then like at 2 hours and a half before it ended Ethan got a live tattoo done of the counted down to 0 timer as Mark failed to be normal around the tattoo artist and 'hAd' to mention the Pee Sauna and Pee Soda to her-

On the subject of tattoos they went through some amazing tattoos that fans had gotten and sent pictures of

Hashtags on Twitter were being flooded, with things such as #Unusannusisoverparty, #WeWereHere, #MarksNewHat - which, yeah Amy got him a top hat and I don't think I've ever seen such pure joy on his face than in that moment.

+++ Amy was wearing an epic suit which was their main aesthetic of half white half black...

Mark reiterates how proud he is of Ethan, of Amy... of the whole team!!! I got emo it was starting to get too real

AND THEN MARK HAD SURPRISE CUSTOM UNUS ANNUS POCKET WATCHES FOR AMY AND ETHAN,,,

So then ya they started getting a bit more speechless/emotional near this bitter end, and at an hour ish left I want to say was when they hit 1 million likes on the stream - and they kept pushing to hit that milestone since if they reached it they would reveal what was inside the coffin...

Plottwist!!! The coffin was empty but they decided to test it out and take turns in it (the material inside was apparently very soft).

So then Ethan gets in the coffin which commences a string of eulogies between em which got me way too emotional and was like a part of the stream that was just Being Brutally Honest With Each Other 2.0.

Mark basically talking about how proud he is of Ethan + how he's excited for his future endeavors and knows that despite the goofy exterior he shows he has such potential and then Eef gets out of the coffin crying which then proceeded to make chat (and me) cry fukcC

Mark gets in the coffin and Ethan talks about how hardworking and no bullshit a person Mark is and how he's learned so much from him and how Mark has never given up on him and his constant presence and support has changed him-

Mark gets out of the coffin crying, they hug it out and ya everyone's crying emotions r healthy gang and damn did we go through a rollercoaster of them...

So I'm weepy and dont necessarily remember exactly what was next, but Amy also got in the coffin which prompted Mark to just go off and give her the most well deserved praise ever since she was the one behind so many of their most creative/cursed ideas and was ghaaa Mark obviously could have talked about her for forever it was super sweet and shes just so deserving of all of that 🥺🥺🥺 gosh we really have her to thank for all the hard work that was put in and resulted in such an amazing payoff...

The last video they watched was The Barrel Song by the way with Schmoyoho, which was weirdly??? Really fitting since it was about saying goodbye and destroying something that you'd become fond of.

Evan then ominously says in response to being offered to get in the cry coffin with like. 5 minutes left on the timer that he totally went in it earlier which was him just politely saying No💖

Oops also forgot to mention but in the last hour they slowly deleted/privated the Instagram, Tumblr, Reddit and Twitter accounts.

And for the ultimate end which wow really came too fast once the numbers dwindled down to 10 minutes left Amy sat in frame in between Mark and Ethan as they clicked the delete channel button and the stream went dead.

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thecaffeinebookwarrior · 4 years ago

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Monster of the Week: The Undead!

From spooky scary skeletons to the original zombies, let’s have a look at the undead who have risen around the globe! This will not include vampires (which I have already compiled a post on) or ghosts (which I plan to compile a post on.)

Note that many of these can best be understood -- or only understood -- in their original cultural context, and I encourage you to continue your research if the lore interests you.

Skeletons/Skeletal Creatures

I am, for whatever reason, enthusiastic about skeletons. There’s a drama to them. They look like they’re perpetually grinning, or grimacing, which makes them oddly relatable. As an artist, I’m always thinking about them as the framework for poses.

More importantly, there’s one in all of us -- sorry if that made you uncomfortable -- which makes them a universally recurring being in global folklore. Let’s take a look at just a few.

Gashadokuro

Literally translating to “rattling skull,” the Gashadokuro is also called Odokoru (giant skull) or simply “the hungry skeleton.” That basically tells you all you need to know.

These big boys (and I mean REALLY big) wander around the countryside at night. Their name derives from the eerie rattling noise produced by their giant skulls. As chill as this may sound, the Gashadokuro is not actually chill at all, and if you come across them they will not hesitate bite your head off. This may seem like a jerk move, since they don’t even have a stomach, but they need the energy of the living in order to sustain themselves.

Like most undead fellas on this list, the Gashadokuro has its origins in the real world. They are thought to originate from the mass-graves, usually of those who died under violent or inhumane circumstances, the supernatural byproduct of countless skeletons.

The first Gashadokuro was thought to have originated after a specific bloody rebellion, in which the bereaved, sorceress daughter of a samurai summoned a giant skeleton from the mass grave of the rebelling soldiers and used it to attack the city. Queen behavior, if you ask me.

Santa Muerte

Image Source

Let’s conclude this portion with my favorite skeleton (excluding Baron Samedi, who doesn’t count, as he is often depicted as a man, or a man with a skull-like face), the goddess/folk saint Santa Muerte.

I still have a lot to learn about the rich folklore surrounding Santa Muerte, but to my understanding, she was born of a combination of pre-Columbian Indigenous religions and Mexican-American folk Catholicism.

Depicted as a skeleton in beautiful, feminine attire and considered to be embodiment of death, Santa Muerte is a healing and protective figure. She is beloved by legions of worshippers, despite condemnations from the Catholic church, and symbolizes a culturally positive relationship with death.

Despite appearances, she is a life-affirming figure.

Zombies and Reanimated Corpses:

The Draugr

When we hear “zombie,” we don’t traditionally think of “Norse mythology.” And yet, the Nordics had their very own zombie mythos, boasting some truly terrifying undead.

It is said that they first emerge from their graves as little more than wisps of smoke and a stench of decay, before adopting a humanoid form that boasts superhuman strength, the ability to change size at will, and the ability to shape-shift.

They aren’t mindless -- far from it. They boast an anthropomorphic intelligence, which makes them all the more dangerous.

As to what drives them from their graves? Jealousy and bitterness towards the living. Relatable, honestly.

The Jiangshi

(Note: I wish they were all as adorable as the one in this gif.)

This Chinese hopping corpse may have evolved into more of a vampire by Western influences, but it was originally far more zombie-like. And a unique zombie at that.

Due to rigor mortis, the Jiangshi hops stiffly from place to place, holding its arms straight out. What’s even more singular is their origin. Try to guess. Go ahead, try. You won’t be able to.

The Jiangshi is what occurs when a bereaved family, lacking the proper funds to send their loved one’s body back to their ancestral land for burial, hires a necromancing corpse driver to reanimate the cadaver and guide it as it hops back to its resting place. They’d travel at night to avoid or minimize decay, either prodded by a stick or to the beat of a drum.

Other ways to create a Jiangshi include improper burial, suicide, or possession.

Looking upon a Jiangshi is said to be bad luck, and presumably very unpleasant. However, the real problem is their insatiable appetite.

But fear not: if you see an unhealthy looking fellow hopping towards you with pasty, possibly decaying skin, you can protect yourself with mirrors, the hooves of a black donkey, or the wood of a peach tree. They can also be scared off by the sound of a crowing rooster, though that would require a bit of planning, and the cooperation of the rooster in question. Which, knowing roosters, is unlikely.

Haitian Zombies

All legends of the undead have roots in real tragedies, but this one is particularly upsetting -- and the source of the zombie legend in the Western world today.

The enslaved people of Haiti believed that death would set them free, sending them back to an idyllic version of their homeland unburdened by colonialism. But only if death came naturally. Suicide would turn them into mindless husks, carrying out the drudgery of their captors. A haunting parallel to the practice of slavery itself.

The concept was introduced to a contemporary audience by the 1932 film White Zombie, which sees a white “voodoo master” (who clearly didn’t know anything about the actual Voodoo religion) using witchcraft to create obedient slaves. He eventually uses this (ahem) “”voodoo”” on a white woman to try and force her to fall in love with him.

With the term “zombie” in public consciousness, it became an applicable allegory for all of society’s ills, and can now be used to refer to anything from mob mentality to consumerism. But few are as haunting and as disturbing as its origins.

Videos on zombies:

The Origin of the Zombie, from Haiti to the US

Where Zombies Come From

100 Hundred Years of Zombie Evolution in Pop Culture

Best Contemporary Zombie Movies*

*That I know of. Will update with more.

Night of the Living Dead - Though White Zombie introduced the term, it was arguably this film that popularized zombies as we know them today, particularly as an allegory for herd mentality and consumerism. Its successors, including Day of the Dead and Dawn of the Dead, prove similarly influential.

The Evil Dead Trilogy - Established that zombies can be fun, while also serving as an allegory for various societal problems. Also features undead that are refreshingly ravenous and evil without necessarily being mindless.

The Re-Animator - These days, the average zombie movie pushes the bounds of creativity is “make ‘em faster!” The Re-Animator’s take on the genre, however, would make Mary Shelley proud. Based loosely on the Lovecraft story, “Herbert West - Reanimator,” the films greatest triumph is its ability to have fun with its grisly premise, and compel the audience to have fun, too. It’s also a cautionary tale about why it’s important to be careful while getting a roommate.

Shaun of the Dead - I’m not kidding. This film is great, and shows that you don’t need a serious tone to be heartfelt, scary, or provide a thought-provoking social commentary. Way back when I was a sixteen-year-old college freshman, I turned up to class as a zombie cheerleader, and my psychology professor recommended Shaun of the Dead to me. She’s a woman of impeccable taste, and it did not disappoint.

28 Days Later - Before Cillian Murphy gave us Tommy Shelby, a gangster so pretty he could give Al Capone a sexual identity crisis, he was proving his mettle in the zombie-addled UK. For 2020 reasons, watching him wander the abandoned streets of London with a questionable haircut feels very topical. Add a stellar performance from Naomie Harris, and there’s a reason it sent me into a bisexual panic it’s considered a modern classic of the genre.

Little Monsters - An egregiously underrated flick, featuring a kindergarten teacher (who happens to be, you know, Lupita Nyong’o) protecting her class during a zombie outbreak. A must watch if you want a zombie movie with a powerhouse lead, a happy ending, and perhaps the most badass kindergarten teacher in cinematic history.

#monster of the week #writers reference #writers resources #skeletons #zombies #blood for ts #racism mention for ts

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theharellan · 4 years ago

Text

Solas Fan Banter

Here’s a compilation of the fan banter I’ve written over the years between Solas and other canon Dragon Age characters, posted for Dragon Age Day 2020. There are references to a canon divergent Solas/nb!Lavellan companion romance. I’ve regretfully not written any Iron Bull banter that I’m proud enough of to feature here, but if anyone has any suggestions for topics I’d be glad to hear them.

Featured characters: Solas, Cassandra, Varric, Sera, Blackwall, Vivienne, Dorian, Cole, Morrigan, Cullen, Leliana, Valta, Renn, and Arcane Advisor Merrill!

Solas & Cassandra

(after receiving the quest Agrarian Apostate)

Cassandra: And he was not even a mage. Shameful. Solas: Would have it been justified if he was? Cassandra: The Templars have sanction to punish apostates. It would not have been beyond their authority. Solas: I would not call that justified, merely legal. Cassandra: The Templars should be better. Solas: The Chantry armed them and gave them an enemy. That might fuel an army, but will only serve to poison their minds against innocent people, apostates or no.

Solas & Varric

(after killing the Templars during the quest Agrarian Apostate)

Varric: I thought at least away from Kirkwall I could get away from crazy Templars. Solas: You believe they were mad? The men I saw were no different from those who confronted us in Val Royeaux.

(after delivering the ring)

Solas: She seems to be holding up well, considering. Varric: Yeah, but I know a front when I see one. Solas: You believe she was suffering more than she let on? Varric: Oh, I know it, Chuckles. That ring might comfort her when the country gets too quiet, but it won’t dry her tears or– shit, do much else, really. Solas: Some wounds only time heal. Varric: And they always seem to leave ugly scars.

(after beginning Here Lies the Abyss)

Solas: You found Hawke after all. Varric: Oh, you know. All those heroics jogged my memory. Solas: Naturally. Varric: What, you going to lay into me, too? Solas: No, no. I understand why you hesitated. (if Hawke is a mage) Solas: To involve her in a Chantry organisation would not have been wise, at least before it had a chance to prove itself. (otherwise) Solas: Given her involvement in this war, I can only imagine there are those on both sides who would blame her for their present predicament. Varric: You mind telling all that to Cassandra? Solas: I would prefer not to.

(after Here Lies the Abyss, if Hawke is left behind)

Solas: I have read your book, you know. The Tale of the Champion. Varric: I don’t know if now’s the best time. Solas: I understand. I only wanted to say that in reading it, I felt your affection for Hawke in every word. I am... sorry, for what happened. Varric: Thanks, Chuckles. Solas: Of course.

(after Here Lies the Abyss, if Hawke survives)

Solas: You said your farewells to Hawke? Varric: Sure did. Sent letters home, debated sending letters to Weisshaupt. The Wardens will need to know the storm coming their way. Solas: You believe Hawke will pose a problem? Varric: Well, maybe not on purpose.

(in the Hissing Wastes, while exploring dwarven ruins)

Varric: I’m surprised you’re not hounding me about how all this makes me feel, Chuckles. Solas: I had thought we established your disinterest. Varric: Yeah, well. I’m thinking about it, anyway. Solas: If you insist. How does this make you feel, Varric? Varric: There’s a tiny part of me that’s really satisfied, you know? Seeing a Paragon of all people living on the Surface, then the rest of me just doesn’t give a shit. Solas: Tradition is a difficult thing to shake, to be conflicted is expected. Do you think our discovery here ought to be shared with Orzammar? Varric: I don’t know about Orzammar, but I can think of a few Surface dwarves who’d be interested in this.

Solas & Sera

Solas: I could not help but notice what you were drawing at breakfast. Sera: What? I wasn’t drawing anything.

(if Sera is romanced)

Solas: You captured our Inquisitor’s likeness well. Sera: Better than you could.

(otherwise)

Solas: There was no mistaking Dagna’s likeness. What were you carrying? Sera: A bowblade. It’s not a thing yet, but if anyone can make one, Widdle can.

Solas: Have you ever given thought to collaborating together on a piece? Sera: Collaber-what? Piece of what? Solas: A painting, or a drawing if you prefer, what medium you decide upon makes little difference to me. Sera: You really think the two of us could work together on anything? Solas: I was under the impression we had been. Sera: That’s different. The Inquisition’s not an ‘us’ thing, or it is, but not us us.

Sera: Say if I wanted to make something with you, what’d we even make? Solas: You ask the question as if there are limitations. Sera: A dragon, then! No, wait, a butt! (beat) Sera: Nothing? Not even a nose wrinkle? Solas: I am not unopposed to the idea. Sera: Ugh, how can you even make butts boring?

Sera: (handing him a drawing) Here, made you something. Solas: What is this? Are those—shoes? Sera: That’s right. One for each toe. You’re welcome.

(After Solas initiates a relationship with Ian)

Sera: So, you and Freckles, huh? Interesting. Solas: Your interest is not my concern. Sera: I always figured you’d wind with someone who’d make the bumping bits matter. Y’know, drop ‘em and rebuild the empire. Solas: It is not the physical product of our love that matters so much as how he makes me feel when I’m with him. Sera: Eugh.

(If Ian is in the party)

Ian: (laughingly) Vhenan, I would choose your words more carefully next time. Solas: Oh. (slightly embarrassed) I did not mean it like that. Sera: Ha! I’ve made him blush. Solas: This is why I didn’t wish to discuss it.

Solas & Blackwall

(While near Ferb’s old fishing pier in the Exalted Plains)

Blackwall: Wonder if the fishing’s good. If we had an hour or two… Solas: Do you consider yourself an angler, Blackwall? Blackwall: I wouldn’t go that far, but I do enjoy the sport of it. Solas: I’ve never considered it a sport. Blackwall: Probably because you’ve never gone fishing just for the fun of it. Next time we make camp, I’ll show you.

Inquisitor: So, how’d your fishing expedition go? Blackwall: You should’ve seen the size of the gar I wrangled. Solas: It was not half as impressive as he believes. Blackwall: He only says that because all’s he caught were minnows. Solas: (scoffs) Inquisitor: So... where is it? Blackwall: We threw it back, of course. Wasn’t like we were going to eat it. Solas: A convenient excuse.

(Along the Storm Coast)

Blackwall: Ever heard of the pale ship that appears on the mists? The Windy Marcher – I think that’s what they called it. Solas: I cannot say I have. Blackwall: An old story, no idea where it started. Must’ve heard it a dozen times in the Free Marches, always a different ending. Solas: As is often the case with legends, the content and moral changes with the teller. Blackwall: One man claimed he’d seen it himself, said the ship was captained by beautiful spirits who’d called him to the sea. Solas: A case of wishful thinking, I assume. Blackwall: He was a bit of a lonely bastard.

(After Revelations)

Solas: You and Cole seem more friendly, of late. Thom: He took some getting used to, but his heart’s in the right place. There’s enough darkness in the world without pushing away the good. Solas: I imagine it was chilling, knowing he could break your cover on a whim. Thom: That did keep me up some nights, yes. Sometimes I wonder why he didn’t say anything. Solas: Perhaps he saw in you what the Inquisitor sees. Thom: Well, I’m grateful. On both counts.

Solas & Vivienne

(After the events of Bring Me the Heart of Snow White)

Solas: I heard the news of Duke De Ghislain’s death. As I understand it, the two of you were close. My condolences for your loss. (if the Inquisitor gave Vivienne a regular wyvern’s heart) Vivienne: (coldly) There was a chance at saving him, but he is beyond saving, now. At least, by mortal hands. Solas: Then I am all the sorrier. (otherwise) Vivienne: He was at peace, and we had the chance to meet at least one last chance before he passed. Solas: Be thankful for that closure, it will bring you comfort in the days to come. Vivienne: It already has.

Solas: How do you feel about the moniker ‘Madame de Fer?’ Vivienne: Oh, I think it’s darling. Why do you ask? Solas: Iron is cold, unyielding without the proper tools, some may use it as an insult rather than a mark of respect. Vivienne: Of that I’ve no doubt, but let them. I embraced it wholeheartedly, and from then on no one could ever truly use it against me. Solas: True enough, such a tactic has worked for others before.

Vivienne: You will be wearing shoes to the ball, won’t you? Solas: My comfort is not worth jeopardizing the Inquisition’s image, so yes. Vivienne: Many elven servants in Orlais go barefoot, it would hardly be a scandal. Still, it would be beneficial. We must all present as a unit when the time comes, not a single hair out of place. Solas: That will hardly pose a problem for the two of us. Vivienne: (makes a sound almost like a laugh) Right you are.

Solas: There are rumours that your name be put forward as the next Divine. Vivienne: I wonder who might have started those. Solas: After all that has happened these past few months, you believe it possible they will accept a mage into their fold? (if the Inquisitor completed In Hushed Whispers / is a mage) Vivienne: Whyever not? Magic is what solved the problem, after all. Solas: Magic has solved countless problems over the centuries, and yet it is still reviled. Vivienne: I am not any ordinary mage. If any mage can achieve status of Divine, I am she. Solas: On that, we agree. (if the Inquisitor completed Champions of the Just and is a non-mage) Vivienne: With the Inquisitor’s support there is nothing I cannot accomplish, my dear.

Vivienne: The Inquisitor gave you that hood not half a day ago and it already has a hole in it. Solas: Two, in fact. Vivienne: Are you afraid we’ll forget you’re an elf if we go five minutes without seeing your ears? Solas: My estimation of your abilities is not that low, Enchanter, and I would be careful were I you. Two holes cut in a hood is not nearly as desperate as donning a pair of horns every morning.

(After Ian is made Tranquil during his personal quest)

Vivienne: I hope you know what you are doing, my dear. The Rite of Tranquility is not something easily undone. Solas: As I understand it, the Seekers did it quite regularly. Vivienne: And through a far gentler process. What they did to Ian was barbaric, but undoing it is not necessarily a kindness. One might even call it selfish. Solas: I never made any claim to selflessness. Vivienne: Go through with it, and he will relive what happened to him every morning and night for the rest of his life. Solas: (with restrained anger) Do not pretend as though you suddenly care for his well-being now, you showed little regard for him before. Vivienne: It is a warning, nothing more. Solas: Your warning is heeded, but it changes nothing. I am under no illusion this will be simple, but to give up on him now— I would be no better than the Circle that once wanted this same fate for him.

Solas & Dorian

Dorian: That book you have on your desk, Solas… Solas: There are many. Which are you referring to? Dorian: There’s one that looked to be in Ancient Tevene. Do you speak it, or are you just keeping it around to look clever? Solas: I would not go so far as to say I speak it, but I understand it well enough. Dorian: How did you go about learning it? Solas: Memories of Tevinter’s empire litter the land, there is hardly a place in Thedas where the world does not remember it, and with memories come language. Dorian: So you learned through the Fade? Solas: I did, though my pronunciation leaves something to be desired. An unfortunate consequence of learning any language alone. Dorian: I might be able to help, but only if you give me the satisfaction of hearing you muddle through it out loud beforehand. Also, I’ll be next in line when you’ve finished reading that book of yours. Solas: (snorts) Very well.

Solas & Cole

Cole: So they’re nobody, but somebody. Empty shells, filled with someone else’s memory. Solas: For the most part, it seems. Cole: If they’re heartless, why are they so angry? Solas: Perhaps it was not so much the absence of feeling, but the lack of recognition of said feelings. Cole: Belief makes them real, even if they’ll always be different.

Cole: It remembered. Delight in discovery, always pushing further into the unknown— someone like that does not simply disappear, and yet... it cannot remember his name. Solas: Names are not so as important as the spirit of the person they belong to. Cole: It remembered the person. Sadder, but stronger. If I ever return to the Fade, I would like to meet it. Solas: Nothing would delight it more. Cole: Oh, I know. I think we’d be friends.

(After the banter where Solas helps prevent a panic attack)

Cole: You breathe in— one, two, three, four— then out— one, two, three, four— feel the grass beneath your feet, magic between your fingers, remember what is and what was. How long did it take you to learn? Solas: More time than is ideal. Cole: I’m sorry. Solas: There is some comfort in knowing I’ve learned enough to help others with such struggles. Cole: I’ll count with you, if you need. Solas: Thank you, Cole.

Solas: I’m curious how your efforts are coming along since we last spoke. Cole: Josephine misses how saffron tastes, but she hasn’t asked the chef to purchase any. I wrote it on a list when no one was watching. Cullen doesn’t like my letters. He says they don’t make sense. Solas: I cannot imagine he devoted much time to understanding them. Cole: No. Listening is... difficult, when you’ve been taught not to.

Cole: Eyes fall shut, but they do not drift away. Their feet are tethered, tied to the ground. Solas: Even dwarves who lived and died on the Surface never dreamed. Cole: But they are still remembered. The song drowns out their thoughts, but it does not smother them. If I listen, I can hear. Solas: I have seen fewer glimpses of dwarven history than I would like, but there are always memories preserved by particular attentive spirits.

(When passing through the kitchen, or lingering nearby. Solas stands over the stove and Cole sits on a nearby counter, hitting his leg against the wood.)

Solas: Would you like to try it, Cole? Cole: Would it not be a waste? I don’t need to eat. Solas: To overindulge, perhaps. A taste will do you nor the world any harm, a good meal is about more than survival. Cole: Then I’d like to try it, please.

Cole: You don’t have to eat, Solas. Solas: Strictly speaking, no. Cole: Sometimes you do anyway. Solas: When the urge takes me, or if refusing would be seen as ill-mannered.

Solas: If I could ask for your opinion, Cole. Cole: It remembers the garden. The sun bakes it red, colour working through it like a blush upon a maiden’s cheeks. Solas: Excellent. And this? Cole: It was lost in weeds for weeks, neglected and forgotten. It tastes like oversteeped tea. Solas: I see. Then we will find another.

Cole: And it remembers the ocean? Solas: It knows the mountain streams and rocky coasts as well as any well-seasoned traveller, though the paths it takes are laid with smoother stones. Cole: Rough edges wicked away by river waters. Soft enough to stand on without any shoes. Solas: Though one must still take care not to fall. (optional) Inquisitor: Speaking from personal experience, Solas? Solas: I suppose one might say that. Cole: Feet forget the ground, flying out from beneath him, but the rest of him doesn’t follow. Solas: (tinged with embarrassment) As I said. Inquisitor: (chuckles) (otherwise) Cole: But you always get up again.

Solas & Cullen

Cullen: I’m curious how you’ve avoided Templars all these years. Solas: I would prefer not to say. Cullen: I’m no longer a Templar, you know. Solas: Then why do you still wear their heraldry? Or am I mistaken? Cullen: I… Solas: Templar or no, your support for its cause endures. I would not endanger fellow apostates by revealing our methods.

Solas: Master Tethras tells me you served in Kirkwall. Cullen: Varric has no shortage of stories, that one just so happens to be true. Why do you bring it up? Solas: My travels have taken me there, on occasion. Cullen: I admit, I’m curious what your impression was. Solas: All the world is steeped in tragedy, but in Kirkwall the Fade overflows with it. Spells flow from the fingertips with such ease you may forget the Veil altogether. Cullen: That doesn’t surprise me, the amount of abominations I saw during my years there… Solas: They were but a symptom. Kirkwall’s sickness ran deeper than what any one spirit could cure.

Solas & Leliana

Solas: I have heard the Inquisition call you many titles. Sister, Nightingale, Spymaster. Leliana: I have worn many masks, some I’ve liked more than others. Why do you mention it? Solas: Which do I refer to you by? Leliana: (laughs) Whichever you prefer. You may use Leliana, if you wish. Solas: Then I shall see which suits you best.

Solas & Josephine

Josephine: It took several tries, but we managed to remove the wine stain from your sweater. I apologise again for Lady Vérène’s indiscretion. Solas: The fault is hardly yours. It is a pity she is not more open to an apostate’s perspective, but the loss is hers. Extend my sincere gratitude to whoever expunged the mark. I have only a few shirts to my name. Josephine: You know, Solas, now that the Inquisition finds itself in more favourable circumstances, we can afford to purchase you a new wardrobe. Solas: With respect, Ambassador, I value comfort over style. I’m uncertain the Summer Bazaar will be able to accommodate me. Josephine: It would be a most... unusual request, but I believe I know the tailor for the job.

Josephine: Have you found the library to your liking? Solas: I have. I cannot imagine any other circumstance where someone like me could have such unmitigated access to the written word. Most human libraries are not so liberal with their guests. Josephine: I confess, I have never been without books. Ever since I was a child they were always within reach. Solas: Then you must have recommendations. Josephine: One or two come to mind. If I can secure faithful translations, you will have them.

Solas & Morrigan

Solas: You seem well-versed in courtly manners for a woman raised in the wilderness. Morrigan: What are you implying? Solas: That you have a talent for winding nobles around your finger, or that the infamous ‘game’ is not so deadly as they like to believe. Vivienne: Or that more talented souls paved the wave for her. Solas: Another possibility. Morrigan: ‘Tis true that Orlesians overestimate the challenge of this ‘Game’ of theirs. Empress Celene had her desires, and ‘twas a simple matter to keep her satisfied. Vivienne: Which is why you’re with us. Morrigan: With you at my side, I could not help but notice. Vivienne: Believe me, dear. Court enchanter is a trifle compared to where my sights have set.

Solas: I found your son atop the rotunda’s scaffolding today. Morrigan: He has long been fond of climbing, and Skyhold’s trees are too new to bear his weight. Solas: It was no harm. My only regret is I did not have an answer to every question he asked. He is a curious boy. Morrigan: (laughs) That he is.

(During What Pride Had Wrought, upon finding the mosaic of June)

Morrigan: Ah, clever June. The most elusive of the elven gods, insofar as legends are concerned. Solas: Their silence is deafening. Morrigan: I take it you have insight? Solas: Merely that he does not deserve what little credit he is given. Time has forgotten the name of whosoever built the first aravel.

Solas: Rumour spread that Kieran went missing. I trust your presence here means you have found him? Morrigan: I… yes. Solas: He is unharmed? Morrigan: Yes. Solas: Then I am glad. And… you? Morrigan: I have much to think upon, but my son is safe. Everything else can come after.

Solas & Renn

Solas: Tell me, Lieutenant, why did you remain with the Legion? Renn: Having trouble seeing why it’s your business. Why d’you ask? Solas: Escaping would be a simple matter of finding the right battle to slip away from. Freedom would only be a few day’s journey from where we stand. Renn: I couldn’t abandon my men... or my city. Solas: You show great loyalty to Orzammar, considering you will never see it again. Renn: Yeah, well. You never forget your home. Solas: No. I suppose you don’t.

Solas & Valta

Solas: “But the truth is the truth— no matter how political it may be.” Valta: Do you disagree? Solas: Just the opposite. The truth does not change with our ability to stomach it. I am glad a historian such as yourself agrees. Valta: A shame the rest of the Shaperate doesn’t agree with us. Solas: True, but if they had you would not be here, on the brink of uncovering secrets buried centuries ago. In their attempt to keep you out of the way, they unknowingly set you upon the path to even greater knowledge. Valta: Orzammar will know the truth. If I don’t make it, then the Inquisitor— Solas: You are not yet dead, Shaper Valta. Do not count yourself apart from the living so soon.

Solas & Merrill

Merrill: You snort when you laugh. Solas: I’m well-aware. If you are about to ask me to stop, I’m afraid I’ve tried before. Merrill: Oh, it’s not a bad thing. It might be the most charming thing about you. Solas: Damned by faint praise. Merrill: It is a very charming laugh.

Solas: Why did you leave your clan? I read Varric’s Tale of the Champion, but I suspect most of it was a lie. (if present) Varric: Hey! I’m right here. Solas: You did well to lie. To name her as a Dalish mage would be to paint a target upon her back. (otherwise) Merill: I left… I— it wasn’t exactly my choice. There was a mirror, tainted by the Blight. I thought we should fix it, even if it meant turning to blood magic. My Keeper disagreed. Solas: You cleansed the Blight from an eluvian? That is remarkable. Merrill: I used to wonder if it was worth it. I sacrificed so much to get it working, years of my life, my— I’m just glad we’re getting use out of it, now.

Merrill: You’re wrong about my people, Solas. The Dalish aren’t as lost as you think. Solas: They cast you to the streets of Kirkwall, exiled you for the crime of pursuing the duty they tasked you with. Merrill: Some of them said such awful things, they looked at me like I was already a demon, but… that doesn’t mean there isn’t good, too. Sometimes I wonder, had my Keeper not been so against me, if things might have been different. Merrill: I don’t know what they said to you, but I know what their scorn feels like. It hurts, but… there’s so much to admire. Solas: You still feel for them. Merrill: They’re my people, they always will be. No matter how much they might hate me, I’ll always love them. Solas: Put like that, I suppose I understand the sentiment. Merrill: It’s a lonely feeling, isn’t it? Solas: It never ebbs, no. Merrill: Then just— remember them, when you think unkind thoughts about the Dalish. The people you miss, the people you don’t, and what you’d sacrifice for them both.

(in the Exalted Plains, outside the boundaries of Hawen’s camp)

Merrill: (giggles) Datishan was asking about you before we left. Solas: Datishan… Hawen’s little hunter? Merrill: Who else? She wanted to know when you’d be back. Solas: What did you tell her? Merrill: I told her you needed time, that good stories don’t grow on trees. You will go back, won’t you? Solas: It seems I shall have to, or else suffer the wrath of her arrows. Merrill: You joke, but she almost poked out my eye last night. Solas: (chuckles)

#dragonageday #solas #dragon age #dragon4geday #unofficialdragonageday #dragon age inquisition #fan banter #dare to be in the company of those stronger than you ( banter )#( my writing )#[ i'll be reposting the couple new things i wrote for this later ]#[ scheduled post ]

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harrywritingsbyme · 5 years ago

Note

Im currently at Japan. I was hoping if you could make a blurb where y/n and harry meet in some way. Huhuhu labss u happy new year!!

A little place called Japan

A/N: I’m sorry this is so late. I hope you had a great time in Japan!!☺️

I’d like to dedicate this to Japan!Harry

Japan was one of those places where you could visit over and over again and never get bored of it. You loved the culture and the energy of Japan. You thought Japan couldn’t get any better. That at least was until you met Harry.

Tokyo Tower was pretty much an essential landmark to visit while you were there. Of course you visited the area on your first trip to Japan. So by now, you mainly came to sit, read and enjoy the scenery. The park near the tower was the perfect place for you.

It was your last full day in Japan before you headed back to your real life in London. So you decided to spend your last day in the park. You found the perfect bench in the perfect spot and you settle into your book.

You’re contently reading for a good while, before you feel a dip in the farther end of the bench. You don’t pay it any mind until you saw the face of a Shiba Inu making its way towards you. You close your book and you turn your attention to the friendly pet. You reach your hand out towards the dog and she instantly draws closer to you.

You become so engrossed in the dog that you don’t even acknowledge it’s owner. You continue playing with the dog until a deep voice snaps you out of your dog induced trance.

“It seems like I’ve been replaced. Or something” the man says in an amused tone.

Your head snaps in his direction. You recognized his voice and when you saw where the voice came from, it confirmed your thoughts. You were sitting on a bench next to Harry Styles. Inside you were freaking out in excitement, but you managed to keep your outwardly appearance calm.

“I’m sorry, she’s just so cute. What’s her name?” Your eyes pan back down to the happy dog, scratching behind her ears.

“Her names Bell. And my name is Harry.” He sticks his free hand out towards you. A wide smile panning across his face.

“Y/N” you reply through your smile, returning the gesture and reaching out to shake his hand. By that point, you didn’t know what you were smiling at. You knew it was between Bell and Harry, and right now, you were almost certain that it was Harry.

Not long after, you had abandoned your book and your whole attention was now on Harry, with you absentmindedly petting the content animal at your feet. You enjoyed listening to Harry talk about his trip. You found his voice to be very therapeutic and soothing believe it or not.

“So how long are you here for?” He rests against the back of the bench, with his full attention on you.

“Today’s my last day, I’ve been here for about a week how. How about you?” You say to him, noticing the gap between the two of you significantly shrink.

“I’m here for a little while longer, then I’m heading back home.” He says to you, trying to figure out a way to spend more time with you before he possibly never saw you again.

Now Harry didn’t believe in cliches. But he just felt like there was something about you that he couldn’t get enough of. He didn’t know what it was, but he knew that he couldn’t get enough of you. And once he finally noticed the book which was one of his all time favorites, he knew you were special.

The conversation lasted for about a good half hour before the cold finally got to the both of you.

“As much as I’m enjoying talking to you, my arse is going to be attached to this bench soon. How about we move this to this cool cafe I think you’ll like.” He chuckles, hoping you’d say yes.

“That’d be great. But before we go, I have to get a picture of the two of you in front of the tower. I mean, how could you not? It’s a photo op you just can’t pass up” You say suggestively getting up and beckoning him to come along. He gets up and he makes his way over to you. You position him in front of the landmark and you step back to take the photo.

“Okay Mr.Model, show me what’cha got. “ you say crouching in front of him. Making to get all the angles. He chuckles at your efforts, and you make sure to take extra pictures of him smiling.

“What, I have to get all the angles. Now serious face. Gotta get the money shot.” You say carefully positioning the camera to get the photo. “Got it” you say getting up from your position and moving over to Harry to show him the pictures.

“Y’have to send these to me.” he says swiping through the photos you took. You both walk side by side in the direction of the cafe he told untouchable about. You both make a quick stop at his friends place, dropping Bell off, and Harry quickly rushing back to you.

Next thing you knew, you were in the corner of the cafe, chatting it up with Harry. Normally someone you just met wouldn’t have such an affect on you, but with Harry, it felt like you had been friends for years. Something about it was easy, and you wished it wouldn’t end. You were already bummed out at the fact that you had to leave, but now you had to leave Harry? That just made you even more sad to leave.

“As much fun as this has been, I have to get going. Have t’pack up for my flight tomorrow” you frown picking at your muffin wrapper.

“Well Y’can’t leave until you send me those pictures” he says, his eyes narrowing in on you playfully.

“Fine” you groan pulling out your phone. He pulls his phone out and he hands it over to you, asking you without actually asking you for your phone number.

“Is this your way of getting my number styles?” You quirk your brow, taking his phone out of his hands.”

“Maybe” he says shyly, leaning onto his palm. You smile and you put your name and number into his phone. Checking everything over, making sure you put everything in correctly. You hand the phone back over to him and you give your phone to him so he could do the same. He hands your phone back to you and you start compiling your things.

The both of you get up from the table and you make your way to the entrance of the cafe. The two of you step out into the cold air of Japan and you quickly shove your hands into your pockets.

“I had a great time today” you say swaying side to side in front of him.

“Me too” he says smiling softly at you, soaking up as muck of you as possible. Out of your entire time together, this was the first time he got a perfect view of you. He realized you were beautiful early on, but now he couldn’t believe how beautiful you were.

He couldn’t resist the urge to take a picture of you. He quickly pulls out his phone and he opens his camera. “Smile” you look at him, questioning his actions. “Need t’put a face to the name.” He responds to you. You shrug your shoulders, agreeing with his logic. You smile at the camera and he snaps the picture or four. He looks over the pictures and he smiles at them before shoving the phone back into his pocket. “I wanna see” you pout pointing to his pocket. “Why, all of em’ are perfect” he says matter of factly, sending a wink your way.

“Well I better let you go. It’s gettin’ a bit cold out here. Don’t wan’ y’turnin into a popsicle.” He sighs, chuckling at his own joke.

“Yeah, I better get out of here.” You sigh, frowning at him. You couldn’t remember who initiated the hug but you knew you didn’t want it to end. It was like being wrapped in a warm blanket. His warmth radiated off of you, keeping you warm from the sir around you. You wished you could stay like this forever. Eventually you both separated from each other and you said your final goodbyes before making your way down the street in opposite directions.

You didn’t tell Harry this, but the cafe he took you to, was your absolute favorite so you frequented it quite often during your trips. As you made your way back to your hotel, you pulled out your phone and you sent him the pictures you took. You sent him all of the pictures except one. You sent him this picture with a little message attached to it.

‘Even though bell wasn’t looking at the camera, this one is my favorite. You really do live up to your name Mr.Model🙂’

You both were saddened at the fact that you wouldn’t see each other again. But all of that quickly changed when you were standing behind a guy who had on rings and a hat similar to Harry’s. You just had to see who was standing in front of you at your local grocery store checkout line. You tapped the man in front of you on the shoulder and the person you hoped it was spun around to face you.

“Fancy seeing you here. If I knew any better, I’d say you were following me.” He smirks, hiding the feelings of excitement and joy that were running through his body at seeing you.

From that point on, your relationship with Harry blossomed into something that before you met him, you didn’t think was even possible, something you loved more than everything. Something you didn’t know you needed.

Let’s just say that from then on, Japan would always be special to you and Harry.

Masterlist

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monabela · 4 years ago

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hey uhh..... advent denest!! this is just the first chapter, every day from now until christmas there will be a new one featuring a christmassy/wintery prompt for that day, but I won’t bother you with that here--check out the ao3 link! :D (maybe I’ll get some other chapters on here too, just to remind everyone, but I’ll think about that)

Snowfall Music

pairings/characters: Denmark (Søren)/Estonia (Eduard), mentioned Finland (Tuomi)/Sweden (Torbjörn), Sealand (Peter), Ladonia (Lars), Vietnam (Vinh), Czechia (Kveta) word count: 4782 summary: Eduard has enough to occupy him this December without having to look after his young cousins, or trying to organize events on his radio show, or having to field strange phone calls day after day, but it seems the end of the year has it out for him.

And somehow, Søren manages to brighten every dark day. Hopefully, he'll stick around for a while.

also on AO3 - further chapters posted there!

“Today on Radio 8, I have some pretty special guests on the show. Now, this was a surprise for me as well—” Eduard opens the audio channels of two of the other microphones in the studio— “but I’m excited they’re here, so welcome to my cousins, Pete—”

“Once removed,” Lars interrupts, raising his eyebrows and wrinkling his freckled nose as if he thinks Eduard is a bit dim. He probably does, come to think of it. The boy is just at that age.

“Alright,” he amends anyway, “my first cousins once removed, Peter and Lars. They’re my first cousin Tuomi’s sons. Is that better?”

“Yes,” Lars replies imperiously. Peter is rolling his eyes, and Eduard has to stifle a laugh while he turns on some background music.

“Their parents are on a trip out of town for the week, so Peter and Lars have been entrusted to Uncle Eduard for the time being—first cousin once removed Eduard, I know, Lars, but I’ll start saying that when you start calling me that.”

“I will.”

“I don’t doubt it. Why don’t you two introduce yourselves, and then you can think of a song you’d like to hear.” He prays Tuomi hasn’t managed to instill too much of his taste in music in his sons just yet, because although they’re ostensibly a rock station, he doesn’t think his listeners are quite ready for metal that heavy.

“I’m Peter,” Peter all but shouts into his microphone, so Eduard lowers his volume slightly. “I’m twelve, and I, ah, I play hockey, I guess?”

That sounds about right.

“And Lars?”

“Well, I’m Lars, I’m also twelve, and I have a podcast.”

“A podcast, really? What’s it about?”

“School and things,” he replies, and nothing else.

“That’s great,” Eduard enthuses anyway, because he does think it is. “You must be excited to visit the studio, then. Would you like to work in radio someday?”

Peter is shaking his head quite frantically and making slashing motions with both hands, but the damage is done, as Lars huffs, wrinkling his nose again and leaning in close to the microphone.

“Radio is very different from podcasts. You just talk around the music.”

Eduard blinks. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“It wasn’t.”

Eduard looks helplessly over at his production assistant, who seems uncharacteristically amused by the whole exchange, her eyebrows twitching ever so slightly.

“Where did you get that sass from?” He knows it must be Tuomi, unless his husband, Torbjörn, has very deeply hidden depths. And, before Lars can actually reply, “Peter, what should we listen to? What music do you like?”

Lars is opening his mouth, but Peter forestalls him, yelling, “Imagine Dragons!”

So Eduard starts a jingle as he lines up an Imagine Dragons song from the station’s playlist and an older rock song to play after that, pushing the slides for the microphone channels down. When he looks at Lars, the boy is just glancing away, attempting to seem disinterested in everything going on by crossing his arms and pressing his lips together. Eduard shakes his head fondly as he scrolls through some of the messages people have sent the show, including some asking if his cousins will help him judge his weekly dumbest pun contest, which he doesn’t imagine will benefit the already low bar for that one, so that’s perfect.

When he asks the boys about it, Lars starts to say something undoubtedly disparaging about how his podcast never has puns, but Peter quickly interrupts again. Eduard is around them enough that he knows this has been their usual behavior for the past few years, and more often than not, the brothers remind him strongly of himself and Tuomi at their age. They always were more like siblings than cousins, and when their older cousin Erzsébet was asked to babysit, she never seemed inclined to stop them.

Granted, he wasn’t doing podcasts when he was twelve, but he does remember using the house phone to call the local radio station multiple times until his parents started threatening to take the phone bill out of his allowance, and then how was he going to buy CDs? The radio show hosts actually wondered what happened to him after a couple of days without word and his parents had to call in to explain. It’s a fond if embarrassing memory.

The show continues in a slightly messier fashion than usual, mostly due to Peter’s attempts to interrupt every single sentence his brother starts to say and Lars stubbornly talking over him, but it’s fun. Eduard reminds himself to make a compilation or something to give Tuomi and Torbjörn when they get back home.

He lets Lars pick a song as well, as his afternoon show nears the end of its first hour. While the mildly surprising requested obscure progressive rock plays, he becomes aware of movement out of the corner of his eye.

Turning, Eduard huffs a laugh when he spots the sheepish-looking freckled face peering through the studio’s windowed door.

“Boys,” he says, ignoring that Lars just glares at him for daring to interrupt his very intent listening, “looks like your uncle finally showed up.”

Peter’s face lights up when he sees the man on the other side of the door, waving enthusiastically. Søren waves back, face splitting in a grin. Although he is Torbjörn’s brother and not a cousin, he doesn’t bear much more resemblance to his brother than Eduard does to Tuomi. He’s tall, but not as tall as Torbjörn is—or Eduard, for that matter—and his eyes are a darker blue pronounced by nearly-black eyebrows that don’t match his coppery hair at all. Eduard has always thought of him as not handsome necessarily, but definitely interesting, and he’d be lying if he said he minded having to look after his cousins with the man.

They’re not close, but he and Søren have spent some time together, albeit mostly when Tuomi and Torbjörn needed someone to look after their sons for a while.

Now, Peter is moving his hands in a flurry of signals Eduard can’t make much of, except that he points at him at the end, and Søren is quickly signing back, his eyebrows jumping wildly.

“He can come in, you know,” Eduard tells Peter, slightly bewildered. He ignores the annoyed look his production assistant is giving her soundboard. At least, he thinks it’s annoyed. It can be hard to tell, with Vinh.

Peter dashes to the door to let in his uncle, who ruffles the boy’s unruly blond hair, waves at Lars—who ignores him—and grins at Eduard with a sheepish edge to it.

“Hey,” he says, “thanks so much for looking after ‘em! Sorry I couldn’t get there in time. Hope they didn’t cause too much trouble for you.”

“Lars is having loads of fun,” Peter declares, then proceeds to duck out of the way when Lars throws a wad of paper at his head. Eduard shrugs at Søren.

As Lars’s song ends, a commercial break begins, and Vinh wanders away to grab some tea and probably gossip about him with the other hosts, so Eduard puts his headphones down and turns his attention fully to Søren. The man is dressed in the same leather jacket he always seems to be wearing and a T-shirt, but doesn’t appear to be cold in the slightest. He has stuck both hands into the pockets of his jacket, but he still moves them wildly when he speaks. A backpack is slung over one shoulder.

“Thanks again. I really couldn’t get out of work, so I’m glad you could take the boys to yours.”

“Of course, no problem.” Eduard pushes his glasses up. “We did have fun, right, boys?”

Predictably, the response is lackluster, since Peter and Lars are too busy swatting at each other with Eduard’s papers.

“I promise we did,” he tells Søren a little forlornly, receiving a full laugh in response, blue eyes glittering in the studio’s bright lights and crinkling up at the corners.

“One day, they’ll learn to appreciate us, Eduard.”

The dubious expression he pulls in return must be funnier than he imagined, because Søren laughs again, extracting a hand from his jacket to clasp his shoulder. He smells pleasantly like the winter air outside, and like hair gel.

“I aspire to help ‘em keep as many secrets from their parents as possible, so they’ll be forever in my debt.”

“You have to wonder if that’s worth incurring Tuomi’s wrath.” Eduard turns back to his soundboard and patches the newsreader in from another location.

“I can take Tuomi.”

“I think that’s your brother’s job.”

Søren makes a strangled sound that might be a laugh and that makes Eduard grin, shaking his head.

“Are you staying for a while? The boys have a pun contest to judge, and I’m sure my listeners would like to hear from you.”

“Sure, sounds great,” he says, his grin softening surprisingly. “I just gotta ask you to keep the background music to a minimum, if you can.” He gestures vaguely at his ear, and Eduard remembers something.

“Right, you don’t hear so well, do you?”

“Practically deaf without my hearing aids, kind of a bummer when you’re on a radio show, I imagine.” He smiles, his eyes crinkling up.

“That’s why pa taught us sign language,” Peter pipes up. “Dad is so bad at it. Uncle Søren, I’d like it if you stayed.”

“Sign language,” Eduard repeats, because of course that’s what that was, but also, how has he never realized that before now? He’s more-or-less known Søren for over fifteen years by now. “Well, I’ll watch the music. Let me know if it still bothers you.”

Vinh returns just as the short second commercial break is ending, inclines her head towards Søren, who waves and does not seem the least perturbed by her lack of outward response, and they set off on the second hour of the show. Eduard lowers the volume of the background music to nearly zero, gesturing at Vinh to leave it.

“While we were away, my first cousins’ once removed actual uncle finally showed up, after he promised he’d pick his nephews up from school—”

“Hey,” Søren interrupts, “you’re painting me in a bad light here, and I don’t appreciate it.”

“It’s the light of truth.”

Astonishingly, Lars snickers at that. He apparently doesn’t care who gets made fun of as long as it’s not him.

“Well, he’s here now, so hello, Søren. He works for the same company my cousin does, so… Is it your fault that we’re saddled with these kids now?”

“Well, I did introduce their parents to each other, so I suppose…” Søren winks at Peter, who sticks his tongue out. “Hey, Eduard, I hear these two got to pick a song to listen to. Do I get a go at that?”

Eduard laughs. “No, no. You need to do a better job of picking them up from school for that. Maybe next time. Actually, I think we’re overdue for some Christmas music. It’s December, after all!”

Peter crows triumphantly. Søren just grins, shaking his head at Eduard, who shrugs in turn, amused.

The hour goes by fairly quickly. Søren animatedly asks the boys questions about their school day during songs that even Lars answers sometimes, and Vinh doesn’t seem to mind him, which is high honor.

By the time the host of the early evening show has arrived and is setting up her stuff while the last song of Eduard’s show plays, he has received quite some messages asking if his cousins or their uncle, who, according to one of his frequent listeners, ‘sounds like a rad dude’, will return. He gestures Søren over from where he’s now already making merry conversation with his colleague, who looks more bewildered than anything.

“What’s up?”

“Well, it seems my listeners like you more than they like me.” Eduard gestures at his computer screen, and Søren grins as he leans over next to him to read the messages. He’s taken his leather jacket off. There are freckles on his bare arms too, and he is making Eduard cold just by looking at them.

“Y’know, the only way to make ‘em rethink that is if I do come back, ain’t it? I can just be an all-round terrible co-host.”

“I like that idea,” Eduard replies, before turning his microphone on as the song ends. “Bruce Springsteen and Born to Run, and it’s the end of another afternoon. Kveta just got here—” he turns his attention to the next host, who nods— “Kveta, anything we can look forward to today?”

“No family members, I think, unless anyone wants me to prank call my stepbrother again.” She laughs. “I’ve got some great new tracks, and there might be some live music going on.”

“Very nice.”

“Of course. So, Eduard, are your family members coming back?”

Søren, who is still next to Eduard, pokes him in the side, then leans further forward to speak into his microphone.

“I’ve always dreamed of being a radio star.”

“I think he’s coming back to usurp me.” Eduard turns to Søren, almost poking his nose into the man’s spiky hair. “He’s already using my mic. And who knows what Peter and Lars will do, they’re twelve.”

“I guess that’s true,” Kveta replies. “Wow, Eduard, he’s really up in your face. I feel like someone should be shielding your cousins’ eyes.”

Peter laughs from where he’s now standing next to Vinh, peering at her screen. Vinh raises her eyebrows at Kveta, who smiles, bites her lip, and looks away. Eduard has to smother a laugh.

“Again, they’re twelve. And I think it’s time we all start heading home, so I’ll leave you to it, Kveta. Please don’t bother your stepbrother too much.” He tilts his head towards Vinh, quirking his mouth, and Kveta glares but sounds upbeat as ever when she replies.

“Can’t promise anything. Now, next hour, we’re starting off with some new music, so stay tuned. Eduard will be back tomorrow afternoon at four.”

The commercial break starts, and Eduard sets about packing up his things, gesturing Peter away from Vinh so Kveta can talk to her a bit before her own production team takes over. Most days, he’d stay at the studio for a while, but he decides to go home right away—Lars and Peter left some of their school supplies at his house that they’ll probably need tomorrow. So, after saying goodbye to Vinh and Kveta, he herds his cousins and Søren out of the studio and towards the elevator, which they ride down to the parking garage. Søren swings his backpack around and pulls out a knit red scarf.

When they reach the garage, the man grasps Eduard’s shoulder as they exit the elevator, stopping him in his tracks. The boys are already racing towards the car, which Eduard also wouldn’t have taken on most other days, preferring to use the bus, but he figured it’d be smarter to take his cousins that way.

“Hey,” Søren is saying, “I biked here, so—”

“In this cold? Do you want a lift?”

He blinks. Scratches his temple.

“There’s a bike carrier on my car,” Eduard adds. “It’s pretty new, I—”

“Uncle Eduard!” Peter calls, waiting by the back door of the car. Eduard holds up a hand—while Lars reminds his brother it’s first cousin once removed Eduard—and pulls the key fob out of his bag to unlock the door for him, then turns back to Søren.

“It’d be no problem; I could take you all over to your place after we stop by my house.”

“We should do dinner,” Søren says, à propos of nothing, his face bright in the gloom of the garage. “Yeah? I owe you one. What kinda food d’you like?”

“I… No, it’s fine, they’re my cousins, it was no trouble at all! I don’t need anything, Søren.” Eduard laughs awkwardly, fiddling with his glasses and looking towards his car. Peter is peering over the backseat.

“We could take the boys out somewhere—this weekend, maybe, before Tuomi and Torbjörn get back. Doesn’t have to be anything fancy.” His hand, still on Eduard’s shoulder, squeezes gently with every other word as if Søren is trying to get his usual gestures across that way. Or, now that he thinks about it, those are probably actual signs. He smiles.

“Well, maybe. I don’t have a show on the weekends.”

“Yeah?” When he pulls his hand back, Søren’s fingers glance off Eduard’s neck. They’re warm. “I’m sure we can find something even Lars will approve of.”

That sounds dubious, but Eduard will hold out hope. Søren agrees to a lift, though, and they figure out how to put his bike on the carrier without difficulties before piling in and driving over to Eduard’s house.

Søren traipses inside after Lars and Peter, peering around curiously.

“Nice place,” he tells Eduard, who waits in the hall while his cousins collect their things. And, “Hey, you should stay for dinner at mine.”

“Søren…”

“Just sayin’, why eat here all by your lonesome when there’s plenty of food at mine? You gotta go there anyways.” At this, he pokes Eduard’s arm gently. “I mean, if you need some alone time after dealing with those two, I ain’t judging.”

Huffing a laugh, Eduard shakes his head. “I don’t know how Tuomi and Torbjörn do it.”

“Together, and with practice, I guess. Wanna come?”

Eduard contemplates it for a moment, looking into the living room and thinking about the leftover spaghetti he has in the fridge.

“Alright. Thank you, Søren.”

Søren smiles, softer than seems to be the norm for him, his cheeks dimpling gently. It’s like a little ray of sunshine on a December day.

“Boys!” he yells, clasping Eduard’s shoulder again when he winces. “Sorry. I’m no good at regulating my own volume.”

Lars is glaring at his uncle, having already been standing in the doorway to the living room with his school bag in hand and having heard him loud and clear.

“Sorry,” Søren repeats, this time signing it as well, putting his hands together as if in prayer.

“What?” Peter yells back from somewhere else. Seconds later, he skids into the hall, his sneakers leaving black marks on the wood floor. “What.”

“Eduard’s coming over for dinner. Got everything?”

They both nod, and Peter claps Eduard on the back as they all head back out. Søren laughs. He takes his scarf off when he gets into the car this time.

“Hey, are you allergic to anything? Or vegetarian?”

“I’m not, don’t worry.” He checks over his shoulder that his cousins have their seatbelts on, then starts his car. “I mean, I don’t eat a lot of meat these days, but I won’t say no.”

“Hm, yeah, that’s good. I oughta be better at that.”

With Søren’s instructions—gestures included—Eduard finds his building on the outskirts of one of the older suburbs easily. Søren tosses Lars the keys to his apartment and the boys run off while Eduard helps him get his bike down from the car, then waits while he parks it somewhere in the shared storage space.

“Alright! C’mon, Eduard, I don’t really want ‘em to break my kitchen down.”

After taking the stairs, they reach Søren’s apartment on the second floor. The door has been left open, and little lights twinkle around the frame.

“Hey!” Søren says, surprised, as Eduard curiously looks around the narrow hall. It’s much neater than he somehow expected, probably just because of Søren’s slightly chaotic mannerisms. Since he sees that his cousins have lined their shoes up by the door, he takes his own off as well, putting them next to Peter’s.

Entering the living room, he understands Søren’s surprise. Peter and Lars are rushing to set the table, apparently trying to outdo each other in speed. There is a tiny Christmas tree on a dresser that suddenly seems quite precarious.

“Be careful,” Eduard says, a little feebly, and Peter grins at him, his hands stacked with far too many plates for four people. It seems to be going alright for now, so Eduard leaves them be to seek out Søren.

“Uh, Søren?” He walks into the kitchen. It’s a surprisingly large space, and Søren already has some pans out and is reaching up for a cutting board. He doesn’t appear to have heard Eduard over the clattering happening in the living room.

“Are you sure about… That?” Eduard asks, when the man has a hold of his cutting board and spots him.

“What, the boys? They’ll be fine.” Something crashes loudly, and Søren pulls a rueful face at the door. “I jinxed it.”

“We’ve got it, Uncle Søren!” Peter yells.

“I’m gonna just… Hey, Eduard, can you get some water boiling while I go check on that?”

“Of course,” he replies, holding a thumb up. Søren pauses on his way out of the kitchen and smiles.

“Of course,” he repeats, moving his hand forward while he first holds just his pinkie up and then opens his whole hand. He does it again, slightly slower, and Eduard tries to replicate the sign. “Hey, great!”

Before he rushes off to assess the damage, he makes an okay sign with one hand.

Eduard fills a pan with water, assuming it’s for the rice Søren’s put on the counter, and turns the stove on to heat it. Søren returns quickly, carrying almost all of the plates Peter was hauling around.

“I think Tuomi and Torbjörn are raising ‘em too well,” he says, putting the plates away. “I don’t think I ever voluntarily set the table until I moved out. Can you slice these peppers?”

Eduard can, while Søren pulls some chicken out the fridge to fry it.

“They’re just hungry. Besides, didn’t they just break a plate?”

“Just the one, it’s fine. I definitely wouldn’t have done a chore if I was hungry. Gotta wonder how Torbjörn turned out so decent.”

“Keeping you in check?”

Søren laughs heartily at that, leaning his hands on the counter so that his shoulders shake visibly. He’s just in his T-shirt again, and Eduard can see now that it is merch of a band he plays sometimes and likes well enough, although he wouldn’t call himself a fan. He slices the bell peppers and some cauliflower, and smiles as a delicious spicy scent fills the kitchen a while later.

Peter sidles into the kitchen as Søren covers the pan to let it simmer for a while. He looks like he’s about to lift the lid again.

“Hey, hey, watch out,” Søren says, pulling his hand away. “That’s hot.”

“I just wanna see.”

He’s always done that, as far as Eduard knows. He can clearly recall a load of pictures of toddler Peter pressed up against the glass of ovens and washing machines and microwaves. He wonders when he’ll grow out of it, or if he’ll be like Tuomi, who still watches whatever he’s cooking for at least ten minutes, but then Tuomi is bad at cooking and might just be making sure it’s not going to explode.

Peter stubbornly crosses his arms and stares at the pan.

“Are you planning on staying there?” Søren asks.

“Probably,” he replies brightly, turning his head to address his uncle. Søren throws a fond smile at him and ruffles his hair before he can duck away.

“Eduard, by the way, I still think we should get dinner this weekend,” he says, pointing a finger at Eduard, who accepts that with a helpless gesture, mostly aimed in an amused Peter’s direction.

“Is that where you get that stubborn streak from?” Eduard asks him, and both Peter and Søren burst out laughing at that.

“It’s like you’ve never even met his parents!”

“Pa says no one is allowed to play Monopoly anymore.” Peter shrugs. “Not that I wanted to, Monopoly’s boring, but Lars got real upset about it.”

“Dad stole all my hotels!” Lars yells from the living room, sounding extremely indignant. Tuomi really is that sort of person, Eduard thinks, glancing at Søren in amusement, but Søren is narrowing his eyes and looking at Peter questioningly.

“Dad stole Lars’s hotels,” the boy relays, and Søren nods, now returning Eduard’s look.

“No Monopoly, got it. I’m sure I got some other games, though, we’ll check it out later.”

Peter grins, nodding. Eduard fears that both his cousins have inherited Tuomi’s competitiveness.

Dinner is good. Eduard is used to eating by himself, or sometimes with Vinh or another coworker, often the early afternoon duo—he tends to spend that time looking at his phone, or, in the latter case, trying to mediate yet another argument between them. It’s nice to have someone to talk to instead of just listening to music or reading news articles.

Søren still gestures wildly while he’s eating, cutlery and all, sometimes even half-forming signs, but he somehow manages to avoid flinging any food as he does so. He says it’s an acquired skill, then launches into a story about throwing soup into Torbjörn’s hair when they were teenagers that has Peter laughing so hard he nearly chokes and Lars, in turn, yelling at him not to throw up or he’ll kill him.

“I’m not,” Peter replies, glaring fiercely even as he breaks out in a hacking cough again, and then quickly signs something at his brother that makes Lars glare back. They definitely inherited that from Torbjörn. Eduard gently claps Peter’s back, and even though he doesn’t think it’s helping much, Peter eventually quiets. His breathing settles back into a normal rhythm, and he takes a large gulp of his water.

“Peter, don’t confuse your cousin,” Søren says, making a downward slashing motion with both hands.

“Sorry, Uncle Eduard,” Peter tells him. He picks his fork back up.

“It’s fine,” Eduard replies, after realizing Søren is talking about Peter using sign language, which he doesn’t understand. Lars, on the other side of the table, rolls his eyes and touches his hand to his shoulder, which makes Søren sigh and shake his head at him.

“It is difficult, Lars.”

Eduard gestures for him to leave it be—wondering as he does so what his gesture might actually imply—and Søren doesn’t say anything else about it, but he does grumble, later, while they load the dishes into the dishwasher, that he knows his brother made it a point that they shouldn’t use sign language to exclude anyone on purpose.

“Probably ‘cause our parents had the same rule,” he explains, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms. His T-shirt stretches across his shoulders, quite nicely, Eduard thinks. “Although that was mostly ‘cause we were better at it than them. Still are, and my mom would still put me in timeout too, 39 years old or not.”

“That sounds fair. I really didn’t mind, though.”

“It’s the principle of the thing, y’know?”

There is a ruckus from the living room. Søren raises his dark eyebrows questioningly.

“They’re, ah… They’re arguing over which game they want to play.”

“Yeah, that seems about right. Are you staying longer or are you heading home?”

“I should probably be going, I like to do some preparations before I go to sleep.” He adjusts his glasses. “Thank you for dinner. You’re always welcome at mine, too.”

“Might take you up on that, Eduard.” Søren runs a hand over his hair and pushes away from the counter. “I’ll probably see you around before the end of the week, I need your help with those kids.”

“Like I said, their parents do it together too.”

That gets him a lopsided grin and a wink that he doesn’t know what to think about but quite likes anyway. Eduard goes to collect his coat and shoes, bids his cousins a good night before they both try to convince him their choice of board game is the right one, and heads out. Søren walks him down to the parking lot.

“I’ll see you, then,” he tells the man, biting his lip when he gets another lopsided smile.

“See you ‘round, Eduard.” He waves shortly when Eduard pulls up in his car, illuminated for a moment by the headlights as he turns off the parking lot. Still just in his T-shirt.

Back home, Eduard leans over to get his papers out of the glovebox, and his hand brushes against something soft. Blinking, he picks it up from the passenger seat and lets the soft wool run across his hands. Søren’s scarf, he realizes, and takes it inside with him.

He’s sure he’ll have the opportunity to return it soon enough.

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anotherbeingsworld · 4 years ago

Text

Paris in the rain.

Pairing: Bryce x F!MC (Casey Valentine)

Book: Open Heart

Word Count: 2362

Warnings: FLUFF. 💕😉

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Pixelberry. I do not own anything, except for the storyline.

A/N: Hi! This is officially my third fic that I will be posting, AHH! I feel giddy right now typing this, and its a compilations of more than a dozen of emotions in my head!! This story was inspired by Lauv’s song called ‘Paris in the rain’ and boom, this story happen! Its mostly fluff, and sometimes our life needs a lil fluff right? 🙈 I apologize in advance if there is any mistakes since English is not my first language 😅 Alsoo, I want to give a huge thanks to @maria-soederberg for checking all my mistakes and helping me with the story! GO CHECK OUT HER STORIES, SHE WROTE A LOT OF AMAZING STORIES ! <3 To end this, I hope you all enjoy this story! READ AWAYYY. 😊

Tags: @maria-soederberg @choicessa @bitchloveskcbaseball @annekebbphotography ❤ (comment down if you want to be tagged!)

PS: CHECK OUT ALL THEIR AMAZING STORIES AS WELL!

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Paris in the rain.

The voices around Casey are fading away into the background as her thoughts start to wander towards a certain surgeon who is 3346 miles away.Casey is currently at a prestigious medical conference in the city of lights, also known as the city of love. She was invited to share her latest insights regarding the medical world.

But Casey feels her concentration leaving and her mind continuing going back to their last moment back in Boston. They had a heated argument about something useless, such as ‘Bryce leaving his dirty socks on the floor, or walking with his shoes through the apartment, not cleaning the dishes just as Casey asked him to.’ Those arguments were useless, yet one argument led to another one. And Bryce snapped at her which shocked Casey. He never had snapped before. Then he even started to point out Casey’s biggest insecurities. He knows it was wrong but he said it, and couldn’t undo it. It was all so pointless at the end that she wishes she could undo all these small arguments that led to this one big one.

It is her second and her final day in the city of love; France. Yet, Casey wasn’t able to enjoy it. Paris has always been on top of her bucket list, therefore shouldn’t she be here and enjoy it? But she can’t, because it is not how she imagined the trip to Paris.

“Dr. Valentine, do you have anything to add before we end the conference?” Dr Lanchester’s voice rings from the microphone. His voice brings Casey back to reality. She puts up a smile that does not reach her eyes as she shakes her head. Dr Lanchester nods before giving a farewell speech to all the doctors that joined the medical conference.

Suddenly Casey feels someone placing their hands on her shoulder, she glances at her colleague, Dr Lindsay Russell who is a doctor invited from the UK to give an insight regarding the medical world in her country.

“Are you okay, C? You seem a bit zoned out in the end there.” She asks as the other doctors starts to exit the room.

“I know, I just have problems at home y’know.” She states as they both start to make their way to the exits as well.

“Let me guess, boy problems?” Lindsay smiles gently.

“Ding, ding, ding . Give the girl a prize.” Casey lets out a small laugh as they walk side by side enjoying every second of the foreign air that shows them that they are far from home especially in Casey’s case.

“I know this won’t solve the problem, but I think we should enjoy our final night here. It’s a rare occasion where the hospital sent us miles away from home.” Lindsay states with an enthusiastic smile plastered on her face.

“Alright, but under one condition.” Casey lets out a mischievous laugh making Lindsay feeling terrified. Lindsay wonders what the condition could be.

“Don’t leave me in suspense, C!” Lindsay shouts, laughing.

“You need to buy me the biggest croissant one can ever find!” Casey beams at Lindsay who lets out a laugh.

Lindsay nods and responds, “You have my word, now c’mon! Let’s explore the medical convention for now, before we continue with our adventure tonight.” She states. Not long after Lindsay suggesting this, Casey is pulled on her arm towards the various parts of the annual medicine convention.

After three hours of exploring, Casey and Lindsay says their goodbyes to get themselves cleaned up for the evening. Despite the excitement of discovering the City of lights, Casey feels a pang of sadness as the thought of Bryce starts to fill her mind again. Before their fight, they talked about how amazing their trip to Paris would be. They would hold hands while walking alongside the Seine, they would share kisses in front of the Eiffel Tower or even at the top of it. As criminal as that might be, they would even sneak out some of the little soaps from the hotel room because they smell so good and also look great. And of course, they cannot forget to eat all the chocolate they would find in Paris. It all seemed so perfect, but at the end it was too good to be true.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she almost missed the notification on her phone. It was a text from her roommates, she smiles thinking about her friends who had been nice enough to take her back in after the fight with Bryce. Casey looks at their group chat and the different messages of her friends.

Sienna: Casey, have fun! We can’t wait for you to be back, Edenbrook is so quiet without you. :(

Elijah: Hit me up with all the goodies from the conventions Cas! You’re the bomb!

Jackie: Don’t forget to enjoy all the expensive booze as you spend your time around snotty doctors Cas! ;)

Aurora: She ain’t wrong, see ya soon!

She smiles at the texts, but looking at those messages make her eyes wander to a particular name in her messages. They hadn’t been texting since the ‘fight’. She wants to tell him how much she wants to be in his arms, how she wants to make all those fantasies come true. But she can’t do it. She lets out a sigh, as she continues to get ready for the night out with Lindsay.

Meanwhile, at a motel not so far away. Bryce Lahela is adjusting his tie.Bryce struggles as he tries to look his best, he is aware that people think he looks good in everything. But today, he wanted to look even better. It is for a special occasion after all.

In the meantime, he facetimes Elijah as he guides him through a tie tutorial. “Almost there, and… done!” Bryce lets out a scream as he successfully managed to tie a tie. Although, he is from a wealthy family which required him to dress up like some stuck up corporate workers, he never made an effort to dress up. It made his parents mad all the time, yet he never really cared what they think. He had lived all his life with casual attire and it’s pretty comfortable.

His phone lets out a ping as a message pop up over their video call.

Linsday: I already told her about tonight, you better not screw up, Lahela!

Bryce: Thank you, I owe you one. And, don’t worry I won’t.

Linsday: I will believe it when I see it, let me know when it’s time.

Bryce: Gotcha.

Bryce takes a deep breath, Elijah looks at him through the phone, noticing how nervous he gets. Soon, Elijah is joined by Sienna and Jackie who instantly whistles at him.

“You clean up good, meathead.” Jackie shouts from the other side of the phone while Sienna gives an approving nod.

“Thanks, Jackie, I am doing everything I can to fix this.” Bryce lets out a sigh. “I can’t lose her, she means a lot to me. And, I don’t want to be away from her anymore. I-“

Before Bryce can continue, Elijah’s voice fades into the background. He looks at his phone and sees their call got disconnected as his phone lets out a ping once more.

Elijah: Sorry about that buddy, Jackie immediately hung up before you start one of those sappy monologues. All of us are rooting for you, get em tiger!

Bryce lets out a small laugh before heading out the door, with a high amount of determination to fix it. Both of them were at fault for their fight, Bryce feels himself getting anxious and the fear of losing her resurfaces even though deep down he knows that she loves him.

Casey always felt like she is not good enough for him. No matter how many times he had tried to assured her that she is the most beautiful woman in the world. Bryce made this one mistake and pointed that out in their fight leads to Casey walking away from him, and a quiet night for Bryce. The next day, he wanted to clear the air between them but Casey unfortunately had left for Paris, without a goodbye.

Casey feels herself enjoying the perks of being a foreigner, living her best life in Paris despite the small pain in her chest. The night went on and she even got the chance to enjoy her croissant which was promised by Lindsay. They managed to go café hopping, and doing everything she desired.

As the night continues, Lindsay lets out a small yawn. Casey’s head perks up at the sudden reaction. “Tired already?”

Lindsay nods, as she stretches her arms making Casey laugh with her antics. “I think I am going to hit the hay, you ready to go?”

Casey shakes her head, as she gestures to the Eiffel Tower which is a short walk away from her. “I think I’m going to stick around a little longer, I will see you tomorrow?”

Lindsay pulls her into a hug and waves her goodbye. “See you tomorrow, C!”

After Casey continued her commute, Lindsay takes her phone out and sends a text to Bryce, to proceed his plan. After getting a thumbs up reply, she whispers ‘I hope he doesn’t screw up this time.’ to herself as she makes her way back to her hotel.

Casey takes her time enjoying the view around her. The night is getting darker but the people around her are still smiling, enjoying the atmosphere around them. Some of them are sightseeing, and some are enjoying each other’s company at one of the most romantic places on earth.

After a few minutes of walking, the Eiffel Tower comes into her view. The sight makes Casey smile uncontrollably. She stops to look at it properly. It looks spectacular, better than what she had been seeing on her desktop when she was 6.At first she was so focused on the sight in front of her that she had barely noticed the presence next to her. As she takes a glance at the person beside her, her eyes widen. It was him. He is standing there beside her, with his signature smile that is one of Casey’s favourites. Both of them were silent for what felt like an eternity until Bryce clears his throat to capture her attention.

“What are you doing here?” Casey asks maintaining her distance because she still can’t believe Bryce is standing next to her.

“I came here to make your dreams come true; one of them involves this building.” Bryce states as his gaze stays on her whilst gesturing the Eiffel Tower, his eyes displaying every emotion someone can have.

Before Casey can reply, he continues, “I want to fix this, and I won’t leave your side until I achieve my goals. You are the best thing that ever happened to me and I am not ready to let you go, or to let us go. This thing that we had, is much more than any fight, any quarrel or any insult. What we have is something special, and I wouldn’t have it any other way…” The sound of thunder causes him to stop as they both glance up towards the sky, where lightening covers the sky from time to time.

“Bryce...” Casey looks back down to him, ignoring the weather above her.

“I love you Casey Valentine and I don’t want to lose you ever again.” He stops when suddenly the rain starts to fall. His eyes went down towards his clothes and notices that it’s soaked. But he doesn’t mind, he is not finished yet. He looks over to her and his breath stops for a short moment. Of course, Casey always looks beautiful in his eyes, but the light of the Eiffel tower reflecting in her eyes, followed by the rain that covers her face in small pearls makes her more beautiful than she has ever been.

Bryce takes a deep breath as he continues, “I’m sorry that I said all those things back in Boston. I never meant to hurt you, Casey. I love you with all I have. My life is evolving around you. Waking up every morning? I can’t imagine it without you by my side. Walking through the hospital halls? I cannot imagine it without our ‘stealing kisses’ moments or jokes we share while bumping into one another. And I can’t bear the thought of living without you. I love you and I cannot live without you.” Bryce admits. “Please come back.”

Casey felt her eyes gaze into his. The rain caused his hair got stuck on his forehead, and followed the little drops on his nose; somehow he still looks amazing in her eyes. Their eyes connect to one another and in that moment they know that whatever happened in Boston, its one of the bumps of being in relationship. Casey feels glad that Bryce had came this whole way to Paris, finally being able to make both of their dreams come true. After a few moments, Casey closes the distance between them as she puts her arms around his neck. She nuzzles her face into the crook of his neck and whispers, “I love you too, so much.” Bryce smiles as he hold her close.

As they are in each other embraces, Bryce is glad that she forgave him and they can start a new page together leaving the fight behind. He promises to himself for their next trip to Paris, he will do all the little things with her. Bryce wants her to be happy and he never wants to leave her side again. He loves her too much, to imagine the world without her in it.

Despite the weather, they got a chance to find each other once more in one of the most beautiful city in the world. After a while, Casey felt a notification from her phone. She smiled after reading the message, and give him a light kiss.

From: Bryce

'Cause anywhere with you feels right

Anywhere with you feels like

Paris in the rain

Walking down an empty street

Puddles underneath our feet’ – Lauv.

THE END.

A/N #2: Hii! So, I hope all of you enjoy it! Its one of those stories that brings a smile on my face and its fill with fluff! The best in both worlds; happiness and fluff, hehe. 🙈 I still felt anxious about posting this, but I am growing everyday! Don’t forget to like, reblog and leave a comment! It would really means a lot for all writers! 😊 Once again, THANK YOU FOR READING! <3

Check out my other fics here ! ❤❤

#playchoices #bryce x mc #bryce x mc fics #bryce lahela #casey valentine #open heart fics #open heart #fanfics #fluff

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autumnslance · 4 years ago

Note

how do you get into roleplaying on a ff server? like how do you do it and how do you know if your character is lore compliant? ;A; pls youre a big inspo to me

*Hugs Nonny* Getting into RP on a FF server can vary; I don’t actually RP much these days, outside of some friends I already have connections to--and that in itself can be difficult just due to Life! It can take time, and patience, and some fits and starts.

And this gets...really really long, so buckle up and go below the cut, please. :)

The cut got broken by an edit. Sigh.

In game there’s always the RP status tag, and just doing RP with folks in public spaces. There may be trolls now and then, but they can be ignored. I personally find Balmung’s Quicksand area too busy and anxiety inducing and not actually all that conducive to actual RP, even “meet at a tavern” walk-up type. But unless you already have a ready-made group of friends/FCmates willing to RP more than some random walk-ups with you, it may take some legwork to find folks you can and want to write with.

Social Media There are a couple of RP community blogs, like @mooglemeet and @ffxiv-crystal-rp and plenty of server-specific ones. There’s also some Discords for these communities. They host and advertise events and reblog people who are looking for RP contacts. Some of them have running gdoc calendars and in game linkshells and fellowships as well.

Shofie has a good post about Tumblr/social media RP blogging.

@shofie-ffxiv

It’s a fact now that social media outside game is a way to make contacts, or even a medium for RP itself. There are few centralized websites/forums for server RP communities anymore. Making connections over your social media, like Tumblr and Twitter, can help find RP. You can’t just throw your own character info out there or reblog prompts hoping others bite, though; you have to put in some work and show interest in others, too. This can be difficult and even scary. That’s OK.

RP is about collaboration and creating with other people, which means finding folks you can write with, and who see you as someone interesting but also interested in them and their OCs. If you want to keep it a solo endeavor focused on your own OCs, write fanfic (which I’ve actually made friends and gotten RP interests that way too through comment interactions, so hey).

If you reblog a prompt from someone, see others on your dash reblogging prompts, if people reblog that prompt post from you? Send them asks! Alternatively, don’t wait for prompts, just send asks, comments, or chats saying hello and things you notice or like about their blog/character/posts they make. Try to form connections with people you think are genuinely interesting and might be fun to talk with. Social media should be, well, social.

BUT respect boundaries, too. Don’t try sarcasm or jokes with people you don’t actually know, it tends to go over poorly. Unless someone’s specifically posting a naughty meme/prompt, keep stuff you others send clean and polite, especially if it’s unsolicited and you’re not already friends (doubly so if you don’t know how old they are IRL, there are laws you do not want to break). Respect if people aren’t open to random asks or chatting with new followers, or say “no” to RP, and know it’s not personal--it’s just what they have time, energy, and emotional/mental capacity for. Don’t give up on other people, though. This stuff can take time and effort to find those you click with.

Respect and communication with RP partners is pretty key.

Do curate your feeds and don’t be afraid to unfollow/mute/block folks, either. I’m selective in who I follow and remove as needed, too, for my own mental health. I miss so much of the discourse and drama and that’s fine by me. Also it costs nothing to not step in on a lot of the drama when it does pass in sight.

Profiles I have static RP profile pages for my girls here on Tumblr (and a lot of other static links and pages, but I’m weird about organizing like that). This way, if people want to write with me, send me prompts, if I sent them prompts, or they want to otherwise interact with my characters, the information is handily available. For some folks, this makes all the difference in who they choose to interact with: how easily can they find even basic info about your OC?

Some people make Carrds. Some folks have gdoc links, or use Dreamwidth, etc. Just keep the links in the blog’s sidebar menu, and/or in the blog desc so people can see ‘em on mobile. There are templates out there, or you can make your own. Feel free to snag mine if you’d like. A lot of times people also copy their profiles to rebloggable posts when looking for RP contacts. Profiles are a good way to let folks know just the at-a-glance basics about your character(s).

I picked a simple theme with a simple layout that makes it easy to add and show off links. I put them in the blog desc to make them easy to find on mobile, too.

[Images: links from my blog sidebar menu showing how over organized I am]

RP, Stories, Lore Post some stories or RP logs (with permission of others involved) or even just random little blurbs and headcanons, as well as any screenshots, art, aesthetic posts for your OCs. Have something of interest to show for your character, too, so some of those folks your interacting with have something of their own to see and ask about!

If possible, try some light RP with friends and FC Mates who are amenable. Go to events, even if just to lurk at first. When you do get up the nerve to talk to people, don’t try to throw a character’s entire backstory at them, or try to steal the limelight--RP is collaboration, back and forth, and a lot like real conversation. Maybe come up with little light things to talk about if asked; a recent adventuring job, a silly shopping incident, etc. They can break the ice or just give you something to reply with for a few minutes.

Lore Compliance is Variable. Some people really want lore compliance, others are OK bending it here and there, while still others throw it out the window entirely. If you want to be super lore compliant...read. There’s a LOT of information, in game and out, for finding lore; from official publications and website material, to tools like Garland Tools site, to compilation blogs like @mirkemenagerie.

Note what’s important for your concept. Narrow it down. Characters aren’t going to know or be or do everything, so only worry about what’s necessary for the base idea. And be flexible; it’s SE’s sandbox, we just play in it, and they can change things any time. They usually do it in the guise of characters not knowing/having all the correct information, at least, but also some places just don’t exist in game yet so we don’t have info.

I’m unspecific about a lot of elements of Aeryn’s childhood, for instance, other than “traveling merchants near Thavnair.” I don’t have to be super specific. I can keep most details vague, and focus on her family and those relationships.

Dark, as my first character, has a fairly simple backstory that I’ve expanded on and adjusted over time as I learned and came up with new info. I also bet no one remembers I originally said Dark was from the North Shroud. I’ve changed things (now from East Shroud, due to the proximity to Gyr Abania and its Hellsguards) as I learned more about the world and my character. You don’t want to change things willy-nilly, but sometimes being flexible and smoothing down some rough edges and making small changes can be fine, especially as one gets more lore over time.

Iyna has a pretty detailed backstory, that came from a basic idea, and checking dates in the pre-Calamity timeline. I based her being taken and trained the way she was not only on what info we have about Garlemald’s imperial practices with conquered provinces, but borrowed a bit from real life and the re-education schools many Native Americans were forced into (though I haven’t gone into detail on that yet, either). I tied the turning point in Iyna’s life to a major event that wasn’t the Calamity, and have left plenty of space in between for me to fill in as time goes on and I learn more about her and the world.

The world isn’t static, and is bigger and more diverse than what can be shown in the game. There’s space in the margins for plenty of weird stuff and contradictions or unusual cases. So read up on what you can, ask questions, and then find where in those spaces your OC fits. Then, find people who enjoy similar tastes in lore compliance (or non-compliance), and who enjoy playing with you and your OCs, and not worrying about the rest. Can’t please everyone, nor get along with everyone, so don’t try; just find what works for you, and who works with you, and don’t police anyone else’s pretendy fun times, either.

There’s no magic answer on the “right” amount of lore compliance, or how to quickly and easily find RP partners or break into the broader RP community.

I hope this helps at least a little bit! Good luck in finding your niche for RP, and maybe I’ll see you sometime at an event :)

#roleplay #blogging #writing #social media #long post #nonny got me thinking #some links #hope this helps?#Anonymous

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embeanwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Finding Home Gavin Reed x Reader

Chapter 17

Masterlist

I took Gavin back to my office on the second floor. The building was still fairly quiet since classes hadn’t begun. Gavin had managed to calm down and now he was sitting on top of my desk leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. I had gotten him some ice for his hand, and I was working on my outline.

“So, what are you even going to do for your research?” I leaned back from my computer and looked at the ceiling.

“First, I need to conduct various interviews with androids, citizens, police officers, Cyberlife employees, and... well pretty much anyone who was in Detroit. Then I need to compile it, create the timeline as tight as possible, and then integrate theories with what happened.”

“That sounds like a lot of work.”

“Yeah, but I have three years on my contract, so I’m not too worried. As long as the dean sees I’m doing the work it shouldn’t be too difficult to get my contract extended.”

“What happens once your contract is up?”

“WSU decides if they want to keep me here as a professor and I have the option to leave this position for another one if I don’t want to renew my contract here.” I paused, thinking back to earlier. I still couldn’t shake what he said to me before I kissed him. “Hey, Gavin?” He hummed in response. I took my hands off my keyboard. “Earlier you said that I shouldn’t be with you because you’re a mess and you can’t do anything right…you know that’s wrong, right?” I waited to see if he would respond, but he didn’t. “I’m a mess too.” He snorted. “No, I am. I mean you’ve witnessed me have a full-blown anxiety meltdown and just lots of anxiety in general. That’s just one part of my baggage. I am in no way a perfect person and I would never expect you to be.”

“Yeah, but I have a whole list of problems, (Y/n). You’re gonna get tired of me.” I looked at him, his eyes were still closed.

“Gavin, you’ve got to trust me. I’m not going to hang you out to dry. I didn’t have to run after you earlier, but I did. Doesn’t that tell you something?”

“That you’re an idiot?” I grabbed a pen off my desk and flung it at his head. “Ow!”

“Oh, hush you baby. You know the real Batman would’ve caught that.” He groaned.

“I hate that nickname.”

“Then what am I supposed to call you?” He got quiet.

“Gav.” He murmured. I nodded and started typing again.

“Well, Gav. I probably need at least another hour to finish this rough draft of my plan. What do you want to do after?” I continued facing the computer, but out of the corner of my eye I saw him smirk.

“Go to my place and make out.” I snickered.

“Alright. Let me finish this and send it to the dean.”

It took me a little less than an hour to finish the draft and send it off, and I’m pretty sure Gavin had driven at least 15 miles over the speed limit the whole ride back to his place. I laughed, short but full heartedly.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a cop? Why are you speeding!” He flashed me a grin.

“Special privilege, babe. Even if I get pulled over all I have to do is show my badge.” I laughed again, a smile lingering on my face while I watched him drive. We hadn’t even gotten through the door and I was pulling his jacket while he was trying to unlock the door, standing on my tiptoes to kiss him. He finished unlocking it with one hand, the other wrapped around my waist and pulling me close, and then up, and I squealed, wrapping my legs around his waist and using this new angle to my advantage, taking control of the kiss. Gavin kicked the door open and then shut behind us, carrying me to his couch and dropping me down into it, pouncing on top of me, not wanting to be apart any longer than we had too. He was kissing me as if I was a lifeline. I gently pushed his chest up forcing a small space between us and smiled.

“What?” He asked, with a cocky smile.

“I haven’t made out with anyone like this since I was a teenager.” I laughed and leaned up to kiss the scar on his nose. He sat up and shifted so I was sitting on his lap. He mimicked me and kissed my nose. Suddenly we heard two of the cats yowling and hissing, causing Gavin groaned.

“Robin! Sassy! Knock it off!” I giggled and laid my head on his shoulder, he started kissing my neck. However, the cats kept fighting, so I hopped off his lap and walked towards the two cats, Gavin huffed and followed me. “What are you doing?” I picked Sassy up.

“Cuddling with Sassy.” She purred in my arms and Robin hissed at the two of us. Gavin laughed.

“You get ‘em, Robin.” I gasped and jumped up and down. Sassy started to claw at my arms. “What?”

“BATMAN AND ROBIN!!!” Gavin groaned.

“Alright this was nice while it lasted.” He gestured towards the door and I kissed his cheek.

“If I’m leaving, I’m taking Sassy.” I held her close to my chest, but she squirmed and jumped down. Gavin laughed.

“Looks like you’re not taking any of my cats.” He said, wrapping his arms around me. I rested my head on his chest and hugged him. I looked at the time on his microwave.

“Hey, I told Connor I would see him and my dad tonight.” He tensed in my arms. “Do you wanna come with me?”

“Your dad doesn’t like me.”

“Yeah and he’s not going to magically start liking you unless you try.” I looked up at him, through my lashes and pursed my lips, wrapping my arms around his neck and lifting my chest up, knowing it would pull my shirt down to reveal more cleavage. “Please?” He groaned.

“Fine.” I smiled, using my arms to pull him down to me for another kiss.

I texted Connor to tell him that both Gavin and I were coming over. He said that both he and Hank were home and that should be fine. He also asked me if we were going to watch another Muppets movie tonight. I told him we’d see.

Gavin parked in the driveway and didn’t move from his seat.

“It’ll be fine. Just be nice to Connor.” I unbuckled my seat belt and Gavin slowly followed. I walked into the house. Sumo ran up to me and wagged his tale. “Hi, Sumo.”

“Hello (Y/n), and Gavin.” Connor said from the kitchen table, my dad turned around from the couch to look at us.

“Uh hey Gavin whatcha doing here?” My dad asked his brow furrowed, before Gavin could answer I grabbed his hand and dragged him to the kitchen table and sat down.

“I invited him. Is that okay?” I looked down at the table to see what Connor was working on. I smiled; he was doing a puzzle…except all the pieces were the same color. He seemed to be having no problem with it all.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” My dad shifted, uncomfortably, and took a sip of his beer, turning back towards the tv.

“Is that last night's game?” Gavin asked, craning his neck to try to see the tv.

“Yup.” I nudged Gavin and nodded for him to go over there.

“Go watch the game with him!” I whispered. He nodded and got up to go sit next to my dad. I tried to read my dad's expression, but it seemed clouded. I looked at Connor who hadn’t looked up from his puzzle, but his LED was spinning yellow. “Con, are you okay?”

“Yes, all my systems are operational.” He nervously glanced up at me.

“Connor.” I tried again.

“(Y/n), how’s your proposal going?” My dad shouted over the tv. I looked over at him.

“I sent it off this afternoon. I’ll probably start arranging interviews next Monday, since my class is only on Tuesday and Thursday.”

“Have you decided if you will be interviewing me?” Connor asked. I smiled and put my hand on his shoulder.

“I hope so, I’m a little worried about interviewing you and dad. Since it technically is a conflict of interest. Hopefully my colleagues can overlook that considering how much you two did for the revolution.”

“You gonna write about your boyfriend pointing a gun at Connor?” My dad grunted, I looked at Connor and he looked back down at the puzzle.

“That’s taken out of context!” Gavin huffed.

“Is it, Reed?”

“He was interfering with Chris’ job!”

“So, you point a goddamn gun at him?” My dad yelled.

“You pointed a gun at me!”

“BECAUSE YOU WERE GOING TO SHOOT CONNOR!”

“YEAH, BUT I DIDN’T!”

“Dad! Gavin!” I shouted at them. Gavin looked at me, he was fuming. “My book will have the relevant information pertaining to the sociological explanation for the android revolution and whatever that includes. If I deem it to be relevant, it will be in my book.”

“I think it’s pretty relevant. He could’ve killed Connor.” I slammed my hands on the table, all three men jumped.

“Dad, can I talk to you in the other room.” He sat the beer down on the coffee table and followed me into his room. “Dad, what the fuck!” I aggressively whispered at him.

“What? I’m being honest!” He said right back.

“He’s a guest!”

“He’s an asshole!”

“You can be too sometimes, so can everyone! But I like him, doesn’t that mean anything?”

“Why did you even bring him here?”

“I brought him here because I like him, and I thought you wanted to be more in my life! Well, hello if I’m going to date Gavin that’s a part of my life, so get used to it!”

“(Y/n)! I’ve known Gavin way longer than you have. I know what he’s like, he won’t be good for you! You’re better off without him!” I glared at him.

“You’re not even giving him a chance!”

“I don’t have to! I’m your father and I’m telling you he’s no good for you!”

“You lost the chance to tell me what’s good for me when you decided you were done caring for me and mom. Ten fucking years I don’t hear from you and now you want to tell me how to live my goddamn life? No fucking way! You don’t have a say in who I date or who I like! I am a grown fucking woman, so even if you had been present in my life I’d still be pissed that you’re trying to control me. This is my life and if you want to be in it then you need to back off now, because I’m living it on my terms and no one else's!”

I quickly ran out of the room before he could notice the tears in my eyes. Gavin was standing at the end of the hallway and I grabbed his arm and pulled him out the door after me.

#gavin reed x reader #gavin reed #detroit become human #hank anderson #rk800connor #dbh #fighting #x reader

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