#colour jitter my beloved

[eyeseechan]

the kk in kk slider stands for kim kitsuragi (hello lgbtq+ community 😳🫶)

[crispycreambacon]

WEEEEE JUST CAN'T BEEEEE

OAR CAN WEEEEE

♪ Be human again~ ♪

(Aka the Oars are now Edo-period humans whoopee doo) (this was inevitable) (this was a fun exercize ngl!)

More doodles of them down below plus the sketch 'cause I really like it lowkey

[woonova]

꩜ ﾟ˖ REASSURANCE

◟﹙ 🏐 ﹚nishimura riki ﹕oneshot ﹙ @woonova ﹚

ʚɞ ﾟ˖  written to flashing lights by kanye west

ʚɞ ﾟ˖  genre fluff, established relationship

ʚɞ ﾟ˖  synopsis no matter if it's doubt about a performance for an upcoming game or the performance during said game, you and niki will always be there to reassure the other. in more ways than one.

ʚɞ ﾟ˖  warning kissing ig....

ʚɞ ﾟ˖  wc 0.8k ﹙ 835 words ﹚

rin's notes ! i still can't beleive i wrote this all in one sitting in less than an hour, i'm sorry if it's bad....i mean i did write it really fast so. also in my niki era rn >_<

— tumblr’s algorithm works best with reblogging so plz consider reblogging and liking my posts ! —

THERE WAS ABOUT TEN MINUTES LEFT until the start of the final match of the season, and you were sitting anxiously on a bench in the girls locker room. A big red bow decorating your hair, along with the few pieces that laid to rest just above your eyes, in the form of a soft fringe. Delicately tapping a finger against your exposed thigh, which was a result of your equally red and sparkly cheer outfit moving along with your constant jittering. You went over your routine around several times over, determined to complete your performance without any mistakes.

It wasn't the first time you found yourself in this state. Nervously moving about in a secluded spot as you rerun all steps to the complicated performance you were about to well, perform. You shakily moved your hands towards the tight ponytail that sat atop your head, loosening its grip and playing with the fly-away strands to calm yourself down. Sure, you loved cheering, but those pre performance jitters could really do a number on you.

However, for every performance you encountered and the subsequent nerves that came with it, you could always count on your boyfriend, Niki to get rid of any feeling of uneasiness that plagued your mind in the moment. And with this reassuring knowledge you could always step out onto the glossed basketball court with your head held high, and your heart ready to burst at the seams whenever you would catch sight of your beloved partner.

And today was no different. You stepped out of the confinements of the female locker room and onto the court with a small smile resting on your lips. Your head was held high and your shoulders straight. Your heart however, was not holding up well. Not because of stress or nervousness, but because of your ridiculously attractive boyfriend making his way over to you with a huge boxy smile. A thin layer of sweat decorating his skin, probably from the warm ups he had done earlier.

"Hey baby, you feeling okay?" He spoke to you in such a soft voice, that it almost made you melt right there on the spot. You gave him a giddy smile and a nod in response, still touched that he had come to check up on you once again.

"Are you sure, I mean i'm sure I can give you some extra reassurance." His sweet smile quickly changed to a sly one as he pulled himself closer to you, his slightly sweaty hair and uniform coloured in a hue similar to yours, along with the white sweatband that wrapped itself around his forehead made him even more attractive in your eyes.

"I'm sure Niki," you started with a small chuckle. "Are you actually 'cause i can —"

"Go! And remember to make the whole school proud, okay. They're kinda counting on your amazing gameplay captain." You cut him off with a teasing tone and a now beaming smile. Throwing a small compliment in the mix simply because you loved how his confident persona would immediately crumble and be replaced by his rarely seen flustered state. Rarely seen to the public that is.

He seemed to let go of his sly remarks and offered you a small pout in return as he held onto the ball that rested in his palms a bit tighter when he heard his name being called. "You're right, someone has to lead this team to victory and who better than me, right?"

"Right!"

And with that he left, heading towards his teammates with a slight pep in his step because of your recent interaction. You watched as he slowly moved further away before he abruptly stopped and made his way back to you. You eyed him eagerly as you wondered what his next move would be, but regardless of whatever thought had crossed your mind, this was certainly not what you were expecting.

You were greeted by Niki for a second time, with a passion filled kiss. His lips met yours in an endearing embrace and his arms paralleled the movement as he absentmindedly wrapped them around your waist. You stood in this embrace for a while until Niki slowly pulled away, fearing that if he didn't do it now, he would never leave your warm touch.

"Sorry, I just needed some extra reassurance." He mumbled out with a foxy smile as he repeated his words from earlier. He stood there for just a while longer looking at you with eyes filled to the brim with adoration and love. The loud cheers coming from students who had been entering the gym, filling up the stands rapidly broke Niki out of his daze. And he stepped back before fixing the crooked hair bow that was tied to your updo, and offering you another cheeky smile before leaving.

"Now i'll definitely be able to lead the team to victory. Dont worry, i'll do well. With you cheering me on, i'm sure I will. I'll make you proud baby"

ʚɞ ﾟ˖  sponsors @hyfenet @k-labels @en-web @k-films

© https://...woonova | 2023

[invisibleraven]

"Not sure if the banner was already obvious enough, but I would like to ask you to be my date." for Willie/anyone, because chaos

Willie could credit himself at being pretty good when it came to reading people. Case in point, when the end of the school year grew closer and closer, and Alex started getting grumpy and fidgety, Willie knew something was up.

More than this is exam jitters-because Alex's school related anxieties just had him pop an extra Ativan by now. Not a worry about the future, as the band was signed for a three album deal, and were set to do a mini California tour come the summer before they did their first album.

No, his mood took a definite change when the posters for the prom started popping up.

Willie had no real wish to go to prom. Sure, he liked dances just as much as the next gay guy, and with Alex as his boyfriend, they could cut a rug with the best of them. But it was such a stupid, heteronormative tradition, and Willie was definitely counter culture. Sure, the school was 100% okay with queer couples going-heck they were even letting Julie bring both her boyfriends as her dates, which made Reggie beam with giddy joy, and even though Luke rolled his eyes, Willie knew he was super excited as well.

But he wasn't sure how Alex felt. So he poked at Reggie for some insight.

"Dude, what do you mean?" Reggie asked. "Alex has been dreaming about dancing at his prom with his boyfriend since he first saw Pretty In Pink. And The Prom. And the third High School Musical movie, even though he bitched about them making the choreographer character straight."

"That was super stupid," Willie admitted. "So you think he want me to ask him?" Reggie shot him a look at that. "Okay, stupid question. You don't think he wants some big promposal right?"

"Have you met Alex?" Reggie asked. "No, he'd die. But maybe... make an effort and do something special, just for you."

That Willie could do. Sure, prom was stupid, dumb, and lame. But Willie could do a night of stupid, dumb, and lame for Alex. Especially to fulfill a dream he thought he'd never get. His parents had crushed so many of Alex's hopes, so the last Willie could do was give him a magical night he had been told over and over again he never would.

But how to ask?

Well, amongst Willie's numerous talents, he was pretty decent at art. So grabbing a ton of paper, his beloved spray cans, and an unoccupied Molina family garage (thanks to Julie clearing it out once she heard his plan) he got to work.

It was a couple hours later that Alex showed up. "Okay, I'm here, Reggie said I had to come out here because you needed me. Even though we both agreed to no make outs in the studio after last time."

Willie snickered as he greeted Alex at the door. "I know hot dog. Just-look."

Alex looked up and saw a bright pink banner there, covered in glitter and in Willie's messy cursive and blocks of rainbow colour, was one word; Prom?

Alex turned to Willie who gave him a mega-watt smile. "Not sure if the banner was already obvious enough, but I would like to ask you to be my date."

"But you hate stuff like prom!" Alex said.

Willie shrugged. "But you love it, and Reggie told me you've been dreaming of prom since you saw Pretty in Pink."

"Fucking Reginald," Alex grumbled.

Willie guided Alex's face to his. "Hey, no. He was being a good bro, and wanted to make sure your dream came true. So what do you say? You wanna go to prom with me?"

"No."

"No?" Willie asked, confused and a little heartbroken.

"No," Alex repeated, shaking his head. "You'd be miserable the whole time, and then I wouldn't have fun. So I'd rather stay in, watch movies. We can put on some music and dance around the living room at your house, have our own prom."

"But your dreams..."

"You're more important," Alex replied with a shrug.

"That's why I asked you!" Willie said, laughing. "Because you getting this one thing you never thought you'd get was more important to me than me hating this shit!"

They both started laughing at that, collapsing onto the couch, holding one another. Finally, wiping their eyes, Willie looked at Alex. "I kind of want to go now, just to prove you wrong, that I'd have fun."

"Really?" Alex asked.

"Just for like, a few dances, sure," Willie relented. "Unless you'd rather stay in."

"Uh uh, you said we're going, no backsies," Alex replied, kissing his nose.

"Figures," Willie said, but he was smiling. Sure, prom was never going to rank high on his list of activities he was looking forward to-but Alex's smile made it all worth it.

Plus, Willie admitted on prom night, as they swayed across the floor, Alex looked damn good in his pink tux.

[heniareth]

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH my brilliant friend you know what? First the notification that you liked the ask game came up and the jittering began BUT NOW YOU HAVE REBLOGGED!!!! PREPARE. TO BE. ASKED.!!!!! Ok now I'll ask a lot, because I'm curious about a lot, and you just pick whatever you want to answer yeah? Yeah! <3 <3 I'll put this under the cut as it's ended up quite long (you said you were on the road tmrw and I didn't know if you'd be on mobile to answer, so I wrote the prompts here so you didn't have to get out of this to go back to the list-- god help me if it turns out there's an easy way to do it and I don't know it :P) Hope you're having a grand time!!!!

NOW!!!!!! For Astala my beloved, as she is always on my mind, let me put forth requests FOR: 1 (what is their colour palette), 2 (what does their handwriting look like), 10 (what piece of moody poetry or novel quote best encompasses your character), and 22 (what is some advice or guidance they received that had a big impact on their lives or outlook? was it a positive or a negative impact)

For Ilanlas my bitey beloved, who spins in my head like he's been glued to a chair-o-plane seat, I'd like to enquire about 4 (if your OC likes art, talk about what they would like best), 8 (if your OC were to live in an alternate time period, which one would suit them best), 12 (what is their character theme song and why? if it has lyrics, pick which ones best suit them), and 24 (is mental, physical, or emotional wellbeing most important to them)

And for Marelas my brand spanking new beloved, who is shiny and taking shape so gorgeously in my head, may I ask 3 (what architectural or design aesthetic would suit them best), 9 (if your OC were to imagine their idyllic life, realistically or otherwise, what would it be like), 23 (what sort of rules, routines, and rituals do they set for themselves), and 26 (if they were to lose the person closest to them, how would they mourn them and how would they handle their grief)

Plant, lovely friend!!! I am so excited for this!!! I did end up having to drive the other day (this is why the asks are trickling out of my askbox rather than being answered all at once), but here we are!!! And such asks!!! Let's talk about the beloveds! A cut is required because this never is short (please take as long as you like with this because it’s. Really Long.)

I appreciate you putting the whole questions into the ask so much!!! It makes life easier (and asks long, but no long asks ever intimidated us, did they? XD)

Astala

1 (what is their colour palette)

Oh boy. Astala loves her colors. She usually goes for muted colors. You know, kinda something like a fall palette. Here are some examples:

When she’s at court as arlessa or as the Hero of Ferelden, however, she very deliberately wears brighter and more saturated (and thus more expensive) colors, and if there’s jewelry involved she’ll go for gold. She’s definitely flaunting her status here in front of all the shem. At the Landsmeet, she’s well known for her red dress; a callback to her first encounter with the most esteemed nobility of Ferelden (aka. Vaughan). If she’s somewhere in her capacity as Hero of Ferelden she’s restricted to blues and silvers, sadly, but she makes it work (and work very well indeed, as Zevran would add). Below are the same colors as above with higher brightness and saturation to give you an idea of what that might look like:

2 (what does their handwriting look like)

Astala, dearest Astala, started her career of doing paperwork while having a fancy title with nothing to prepare her for hours spent writing (she does know how to write, thank you very much). In the beginning, her handwriting suffers from it. She grips the pen with way to much strength and either ends up with a hole in the paper or a cramp in her hand (or both). But practice makes perfect, and after a bit of practice, her handwriting is even and orderly as can be. She tends to make her lowercase letters pretty tall and overall her writing leans to the right. If she's sending informal letters (like the one to Sten) she likes underlining the important words to accurately convey the meaning and intonation of her sentences. She's also one to use several instances of P.S. to tell the whole of what she wants to tell. Her letters are mostly always nice and structured; she's better at accounting than writing, and tables are amazing, so she makes liberal use of bullet points and the like to speed up and organize the flow of information.

10 (what piece of moody poetry or novel quote best encompasses your character)

We've got a couple different ones here, so I stitched them together!

"It is never too late to be what you might have been." —George Eliot

This quote spoke to me because Astala was supposed to be a troublemaker like her mother and live a quiet, unassuming life like her father, was supposed to get married and start a family and is now a Grey Warden.

"Nobody protects us. So we protect us." —Miriam in Dragon Age: Absolution

This one is pretty obvious. Astala is big on protecting and wholeheartedly believes in her community and the need to stick together.

"All you need is love. But a little chocolate now and then doesn't hurt." —Charles M. Schulz

This one just made me laugh XD XD Astala loves to enjoy things (regardless of whether they are luxuries or not), but she does yearn for close connections. And when she can't have them, having access to nice things is definitely a way she copes with a potential lack of close relationships

"But of course, your Excellence. A true commander takes responsability for the life and death of the men he sends into battle; it's only right and proper that he should be held accountable for them. At the first stolen chicken you may have my head." —Rankstrail in The Last Orc by Silvana de Mari (a bit of context: Rankstrail is sassing the local governor's military people bc they wanted to torture one of his soldiers over a stolen chicken. And the chicken wasn't even a fat one to begin with!)

This book series is a YA fantasy series that I stopped reading after some installments because the characters I loved the most kept dying or falling into depression with no visible way out, but it handles poverty, government incompetence and injustice beautifully. Incidentally, the government in question has a very futuristic style of architecture, and given the Italian name of the author I wonder if there are some intended parallels to a fascist government. Back to the book, Rankstrail is definitely one of my favorite characters and the whole series was very formative when I read it as a teen. I wanted to include a quote and this one stuck out to me because Astala has to navigate some authorities trying to pull one on her while sneering down on her as well. I think she and Rankstrail would find common ground in that (and in the book series the whole thing is amazing bc Rankstrail dances circles around these people but they always maintain the upper hand in the end because they have the power and the resources and he doesn't!)

22 (what is some advice or guidance they received that had a big impact on their lives or outlook? was it a positive or a negative impact?)

I've talked about how Astala has been impacted by her mother, for good and bad. Her father mostly taught her by word and by example how to look for work and keep it, as well as how to care for her family. I really should talk more about Cyrion, because obviously he had the bigger impact on her here, but I want to talk about Valendrian.

When Cyrion was still recovering emotionally from losing Adaia and physically from having spent a winter sick (half of it working), Valendrian often took the Tabris kids with him when he made his rounds around the Alienage. Other children in sinilar situations had other adult family members (aunts, uncles, grandparents, adult cousins) who could do the same; not the Tabrises, so the hahren had to step in. Working with Valendrian gave them something to do, connected them more with their people and allowed them to feel useful and capable in a situation that was very much beyond their control. He sent them to run errands for families who couldn't, to deliver medicine or food, to watch over kids, to help clean a house or a street or warehouse, or took them with him to visit people who were sick (and not contagious), alone or grieving. He also often took the scenic route to his destinations and tried to send two of them ahead or something to get time with the third one alone. With Astala he talked about her mother, about her father, about the weather, her future, Soris, Shianni, and, when she was fourteen and still helping him out, her crush on Alarith (that moment in the first chapter of her story when she offers Valendrian her help with Vaughan and Valendrian tells her to step back? That's a callback to those days, when she and her cousins used to help him all the time).

Basically, Valendrian tried to lend these three kids what support he could give them. He's Astala's reference for what leading a community looks like, and what a community is, how it works, and so forth. This comes in very handy during the Blight, but especially later, as arlessa. She is some steps further removed from her people than Valendrian was at that point, but the basic procedures stay the same.

Ilanlas

4 (if your OC likes art, talk about what they would like best)

Ilanlas is very much about statues and abstract art. I think he’d love the black and white paintings of Franz Kline. It's the kind of art where he feels like he can step into it; the feelingnis comparable to when he sees a grove of trees or a structure of rocks or a bend of the road in the distance and wants to go and check it out. These paintings form a kind of space for him where he can retreat into. It's very nice and calming.

He'd also love sculptures made out of driftwood, particularly those where the wood has been left to stay in its original shape. In his opinion, taking the raw material as it is and working with its shape instead of bending said shape to one's will is much more imaginative, creative, respectful.

And then, while snooping through the internet, I found this piece, Burning from Within by Christopher David White. It's ceramic, not wood, which is a feat in and of itself, but what Ilanlas would find amazing is the way the copper leaf on the inside really makes it look like it's wood being consumed by embers. He'd see it from the back and get all excited about it jntil he'd realize that the thibg is not a piece of a hollowed-out tree but. Y'know. The naked torso af a woman. That'd bother him a lot; the ubiquity of naked women in art in general would. Why does everything have to be about having the hots for random women? Wtf??? (He's very unimpressed by the countless Andraste statues everywhere as well. At least they're clothed.)

8 (if your OC were to live in an alternate time period, which one would suit them best)

I answered this one here! It’s kinda hard to find a time period that’d suit him. He’s so integrated in Thedas. But, now that I think of it, he would’ve had a blast in the 80s. He’d have his own painted van and everything. He and Tamlen would just take off and make a long, long roadtrip to wherever the road will take them. They'd set up camp in the middle of nowhere, stop in the desert and spend the whole night looking up at the stars, park the van in the curb of a steep mountain road to climb those extremely climbable rocks, watch the sunrise next to a gigantic waterfall that douses them from head to toe in fine spray water. Merrill comes along sometimes and has them stopping at tourist attractions, museums and canyons. Can you imagine Ilanlas with sunglasses and a bandana holding his long hair back? He’d have so much fun XD XD XD XD

That said, big aside: since the Dalish have ties to Native Americans, Roma and jewish people, all of the above might not've been possible. I don't have a lot of knowledge on the situation of these people in the 80s, in the USA and otherwise, but what little I know makes me think that Ilanlas would've been more preoccupied with travel restrictions, bad faith from the authorities and just the general population, poverty and all of its lovely companions. For his sake, I'd like that not to be so. On the other hand, erasing the past of other people is not good. I hope he does get to see at least one sunrise next to that waterfall tho

12 (what is their character theme song and why? if it has lyrics, pick which ones best suit them)

I have. Several songs I relate to this man, but here’s one. Sound the Bugle from the movie Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron.

If you lose yourself

Your courage soon will follow

So be strong tonight

Remember who you are

I don't have a lot of smart things to say here, except that he's really going through it. Where Astala is doing her damnest to eke out a place for herself, no matter how small, where she can live her life as close as possible to what it used to be, Ilanlas has thrown himself wholesale into the Grey Wardens. The only thing he keeps for himself is the right to take vengeance for Tamlen, and since that means killing darkspawn, it's not really something that detracts from his role in the order (while Astala very much does try to put as much distance between herself and the order as she can). Losing Tamlen was like losing a huge chunk of himself for Ilanlas. When he finds Tamlen again, these verses will be significant.

24 (is mental, physical, or emotional wellbeing most important to them)

I think his emotional wellbeing is the most important to him because it's the most fragile. He has a very decent pain tolerance and doesn't mind getting sweaty or having his legs full of mud after trekking through the countryside for hours. He's also good at problem-solving and decision-making generally comes easy to him (even if they're not always the best decisions).

It's the emotions that get him; some things hurt him deeply and he doesn't know what to do with that. In other instances it's just him losing his cool or being brusque and not thinking much of it, only to then turn around and find that the other person is offended and blames him. There are many people that feel things more deeply than him, and he finds it hard to understand that because to him it's no big deal. It's a bit of a vicious circle, tbh. He seriously and unwillingly hurts somebody and then gets hurt back bc the other person reacts negatively for no reason, seemingly. Or even lashes out. Long story short, it's the emotional wellbeing that bugs him the most and that is thus most important to him.

Marelas

3 (what architectural or design aesthetic would suit them best)

I think Marelas would enjoy the Arts and Crafts Movement. It's beautiful (could do with a bit warmer and more vibrant colors though), practical and it puts great emphasis on the craft of the artisan. This man enjoys having beautifully made things around him, and that's one if the tenets of the Arts and Crafts Movement. You bet he had a say in Skyhold's furnishing, much to Vivienne's chagrin. Too Dalish for her taste.

He'd also have a field day in the Library at the National Palace of Mafra, Portugal. Baroque isn't his favorite (it's very Orlesian), but this building in particular is grand, but not gaudy, well illuminated, probably very cool in summer, and has tons of space in case he wants to strew his papers around to arrange them on the floor and look at them from a certain distance to get a look at the big picture of things. He likes mind maps. Also, the building apparently houses bats!! How cool is that?

9 (if your OC were to imagine their idyllic life, realistically or otherwise, what would it be like)

Here are some of the things Marelas would love to have in his life if you’d asked him right before the plot in Trespasser kicks off:

Study lore!! So much lore!! All the history and the magic, medicine, cultures, all of it!!

Peace for clan Lavellan.

A long life for Keeper Deshanna.

Many people around him he can trust and rely on.

Frequently meet the members of the Inquisition, see what work they have been doing, maybe even continue working with them to enrich the lives of the people of Thedas (and enrich is the keyword here. He’s no fighter when he can help it. He’d rather pursue social or cultural goals).

Be able to often visit Dorian, very often (the separation hit him hard, harder than he wants to admit. He thinks it commendable and a good thing that Dorian wants to better his homeland, but at the moment when Dorian told him he was leaving, Marelas did feel a bit abandoned in favor of more exciting pursuits. He and Dorian did have the chance to talk it through, however, and have settled on an arrangement that, so far, is satisfying to both. Still, he misses Dorian).

Not have any world-ending threats hanging above his head.

Foster more community between the city elves and the Dalish clans (I think somebody from his family came from the city, probably an uncle who married into his mother’s side of the family).

23 (what sort of rules, routines, and rituals do they set for themselves)

Back at his clan, his routine looked something like this:

Wake up, have a handful of something, pray alone.

Do some stretching, have some real breakfast, revise what has to be done that day with Keeper Deshanna and the clan’s Second, and start. He sometimes works alone, sometimes they all work together or in pairs. They have a well-honed system.

Part of his routine is taking a round of the premises (wherever he is) and see how everybody is doing. He tends to do that around mealtime, after getting some work in.

If somebody wants to converse with him, he will tend to schedule it in the afternoon, preferrably right after having eaten lunch and taken a bit of quiet time to himself, or when the sun is already lowering towards the horizon. He finds these are hours best spent quietly, and that they lend themselves more to thinking than to doing.

He will also pray alone in the evening, right after dinner if he can manage. He will go over the day, write up things that have to be done next (either the following day or at some point in the future), offer up the good and the bad, and enjoy the quiet as the sun sets and the stars start to shine.

Prayer is very important to him, and throughout the day there would be more opportunities, mostly with Keeper Deshanna and clan Lavellan’s Second. He tries his best to keep this routine after the explosion at the Conclave, although Keeper Deshanna and clan Lavellan’s Second are replaced by Cullen, Josephine and Leliana. He does miss the more relaxed rhythm of the life in his clan, but he makes do well. It is strange to him to be at the head of a group instead of the leader’s right hand. He takes responsability quite seriously and the biggest break in his routine is him doing paperwork until way later than he intended. Sometimes, it’s almost a relief when he can leave Skyhold to go roam around Thedas.

Another big interruption to his routine can be any sort of magical or historical study that catches his interest. He’s an academic at heart. In the Jaws of Hakkon DLC, he was happy as a clam at first, searching for Inquisitor Ameridan, and even in the Descent DLC he would rather have spent time studying the runes on the wall than investigating the earthquakes. The Emerald Graves were a treasure trove (albeit a bitter one). If there’s a piece of work that captures his interest, he will get his duties done, sure. But later you’ll find him writing deep into the night. Sometimes his room looks like a tornado came through and scattered complex diagrams and drawings throughout. This turns a bit unhealthy after he drinks of the Well of Sorrows. He now has direct access to knowledge from Arlathan, and he considers it one of his duties to record EVERYTHING the well tells him. He ends up with incoherent scribbles more often than not, but at other points he wrote down a poem, sketched a view from the temple of Sylaise, found a recipe to help with some kind of cough, found hints of an old technique to enrich iron, and so forth. It’s fascinating, but dangerous. More than once, somebody else had to take the pen out of his hand and send him to bed, or otherwise bring him back to reality.

26 (if they were to lose the person closest to them, how would they mourn them and how would they handle their grief)

Ooooh, this is a heavy one. Let's do it >:)

Okay, first of all, Marelas would nowadays have been diagnosed with some form of anxiety disorder (or maybe even PTSD, since the symptoms manifested after an accident in which he nearly drowned). As part of dealing with persistent worries, intense fears of danger and death, and with a generalized feeling of helplessness and loss of control, Keeper Deshanna encouraged him to seek special connection with Falon'Din. The reasoning was that if he died, Falon'Din would be there; he wouldn't be alone. Take away some of the fear that death inspired, and everything would be much easier to deal with; that was Deshanna's reasoning. After all of that and all the events in Inquisition, Marelas likes to think of himself as someone who is familiar with grief and who knows that a loss such as this one will take time to heal. He will do his best to be patient and lean on other loved ones for support, to give himself time, to cherish the memories while stepping out of himself to create new ones. And he does good! He tries his best! He is able to step away from the moment, take a deep breath and brace himself for the things that are to come and he is able to stay moderately aware of his own wellbeing during the period of intense turmoil that follows the death of a loved one.

The reality, however, is that he's a very sensitive man who feels things deeply and for a very long time. He might be patient, experienced and good at taking his own feelings at face value, but his emotions are stubborn buggers. He'll most likely spend a couple of days numb, think that it's going better than he anticipated, until reality catches up to him and everything comes crashing down. After that, he will cry, a lot, but try to keep some of it to himself. He does occupy a position of responsibility after all, and he has to keep doing his work.

In fact, although he knows that giving himself time to actively grieve is important, he definitely puts his role as First (or the Keeper if it's Keeper Deshanna who died), well... first. If Keeper Deshanna died, he would even officiate the funeral. Embodying the figure of the First/Keeper removes him from his pain by focusing on other people's pain, although that's not the only reason why he blends into his role in the clan. He does genuinely want to help. It is, however, part of the reason why he spends some days functioning well while emotionally numb. He's not entirely conscious that he does this, and there's no easy answer here because he does have a responsability for the well-being of the clan. He does best when he has somebody that will step past the whole "he is responsible for everybody" thing and makes him contemplate how he is doing as a person. Hold a mirror in front of him, so to say. So yeah, that's him if somebody close to him from his clan dies.

If Dorian died... well, that's a whole other thing. He doesn't have any official role to disappear behind here, although he definitely would find something to try and occupy himself with. He'd definitely be at the funeral, and he'd definitely ask if he could help with anything. But he's out of his depth in Tevinter, and he's Dorian's partner from down south. Despite his best efforts, he'll have everybody's attention and he'll be at an utter loss on what to do.

So he'd do his best to hold his tears in and cry when he's alone. He'd try to meet Dorian's friends and family and establish at least a bit of a positive relationship with them. And in the process, he'd probably have at least one moment where he'd crack under the pressure and either run away or cry somewhere totally inappropriate and end up mortified and with all the pain spilling out.

All of this, of course, if Dorian or Keeper Deshanna didn't get assassinated. In that case his new mission would be hunting those bastards down, and that's what he'd stand behind until the emotions one day suddenly catch up to him. And he’d go for it with a lot of zeal. He isn’t an easy one to anger, but when he is angry, it holds for a long time.

After having digested the heap of emotions, he does his best to celebrate the person he's lost. He's quite meticulous about marking death-days, and consciously makes space on those days to remember and honor the deceased. He might put up an altar with things that remind him of them and spend a good chunk of the day reminiscing and talking to them (without receiving an answer of course. He might be a mage, but communion with the dead is rare). And he would honor them by trying to help along whatever efforts they pursued in life, if the chance presents itself. Falon'Din is still a god he holds in high regard, even if after Trespasser the elven gods as a whole are unstable ground to him, and honoring the dead is very important to him.

---

And that’s a wrap on these three! I hope the wait was worth it, and if you’ve read the whole thing, kudos to you! This was a very nice brain exercise XD XD XD It was really cool to get to know Ilanlas’s taste in art, tbh. I had a vague idea, but now I really want to sit down with him and talk about modern art. There’s a lot to go into there (starting with what the devil IS art??) and it’d be so interesting to hear what he likes and doesn’t like. Thank you so so so much for these wonderful questions!!!! I hope you are having an absolutely splendid few days!

[midnightmorpher]

Thank you for tagging me, @sparkym00n !

Favourite colour: 🐬🩵🫐🌸🌷👚

Last song listened to: A Mother’s Love by Man on the Internet

Currently reading: Mechanisms of Destiny by @thesketchystar (sorry for the two tags in a row Sketch, lemme know if you want it removed ^^;). I’m in the middle of Chapter 5 now, and I’m loving it lots!

Currently craving: 🍝 Pasta, my beloved 🍝

Tea or coffee: Tea! 🍵 Unfortunately, coffee gives me the jitters ;-;

Tags:

@rhonuscorner @femme-enby @lets-zofifi-stuff @ohno-the-sun @r0tting-rat @ryobitheaxololt @thesketchystar @way2gosuperrstarr @atlantis-just-drowned @anxiouscr0w @starriegalaxy @catbatninja @mockingbirdtx

Q&A brought to you by @moonliched! Thanks for the tag! 💙💙💙

Rules: Answer the questions and tag 9 people.

☀️ favorite color: Blue! All shades of it really

🌙 last song listened to: 2econd 2ight 2eer (that was fun, goodbye.) by Will Wood

☀️currently reading: Ace In The Hole by Certified_Handler on Ao3

🌙 currently watching: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. (Binging everything while I draw lmao)

☀️ currently craving: Sunflower seeds and tres leches cake

🌙 coffee or tea: Tea ofc, with honey

I tag @mariheadspace @sun-e-chips @nosleepgummitato @ikamigami @virtualglittervoid @gemigemigemi @yellowrabbitfurry @dalimaly and @firephoenix2020!!!

[neon-junkie]

Logically, It Made Sense

Summary: A shiny attempts to hit on you whilst you're at the bar, and Tech is there to play the fake boyfriend role. However, he has no idea what he's doing, and in his tipsy state, decides to do the first thing that pops into his mind. Pairing: Tech x Reader

Reader Description: Reader is female, and uses she/her pronouns. This fic does not include any descriptions of her appearance. Word count: 1.7k Tags: First kiss, Mutual pining, Making out, Drinking, 79′s, Awkward flirting.

Notes: A little something for Tech Tuesdays, based on a dream I had the other night :0)

(Gif credit, my beloved @kybacrystal​ )

Another night, and you've found yourself getting dolled up, going out with your boys to 79's. The club is already pounding away by the time you all arrive, and after handing over a small bundle of credits, you all enter. Neon lights are glazing overhead, and the bass is jittering through your body, soon trailing to a subconscious part of your mind as you adjust to the nightclub setting.

Drinks are the first thing on everybody's mind, and after you all purchase one each, and a shot to get things going, the Batch find a cozy booth to coddle for the night. They're not really dancers, minus Wrecker, who is always happy to groove with you, but you're content with relaxing, drinking, and nattering the night away.

That is, until your body calls out for more liquor, and you find yourself falling into a tipsy state, as do the others! You've all been here for, what? two hours now? Time is swiftly becoming a blur, not that you mind - there's plenty more hours of the night left!

"Kark, again?" Hunter grunts beside you as you suggest grabbing another round. Your previous drink lasted a few minutes, an estimate of four, according to Tech.

"Yeah?" you rhetorically ask, playfully rolling your eyes at your Sergeant.

"Someone else can go with you. I'm not babysitting you when you fail to make it back to the booth," Hunter chuckles.

You're about to brush him off and say you'll go on your own, until Tech chimes in and states that he also fancies another drink. Needless to say, it's rare to see Tech drunk, and he seems to be slowly creeping in that direction. He's a handful of drinks deep, watering down his walls, and relaxing his ever-ticking mind.

You take him up on his offer, and lose yourselves in the crowd surrounding the bar, Tech on your tail. Before you know it, you're at the front of the queue, patiently awaiting one of the servers to pick up on your thirsty aura. Tech slips his hands into his pockets, keeping your light conversation flowing as you two natter away. It's nice to see him (and the others) dressed up for once, sporting fine and formal attire, and Tech's swapped his goggles out for a pair of round glasses - so, he really does need them? His goggles aren't just there to make him look even cuter?

Finally, a bartender takes your order, and you're about to turn your attention back to Tech as the server goes off to make your drinks, until you feel a tap on your arm. You tilt your head to the side, expecting to see that somebody has accidentally bumped into you, only to find a generic clone standing there.

The first thing that you notice is his lack of colours, more specifically, the shiny, white armour that he's wearing. He's a fresh as clones come, yet to decorate his armour in his troop colours - if he even has one yet.

"You look lonely," the stranger flirts, and you have to bite back a cringed expression, knowing exactly where this is going. Ugh, is it not obvious that you're here with someone? Well, you're not here with Tech, but he's stood right beside you, quirking a brow as he watches this desperate stranger's attempt.

"Oh, I'm not," you reply, hoping that he'll pick up on the hint, and back off.

Maybe it's his first time here, or maybe he's testing out the blessed Jango Fett genes. Either way, he doesn't back down, and attempts to slide another cheeky comment your way. "Are you sure, beautiful?"

"Yep," you say with a stern nod. "I'm already here with someone."

The shiny peers over your shoulder, and laughs when he locks eyes with Tech. Anger begins bubbling in your chest, and not wanting to cause a scene, you turn away, snatching Tech's focus from the shiny.

"Is everything alright?" Tech questions as he notices your frustrated expression. It's likely that he didn't hear what the stranger was saying over the pounding music, so you simplify the stranger's desperate attempts as you explain what's happened.

"He's trying to hit on me," you mutter with disgust. "I said I'm here with you, and he doesn't seem too certain about it."

"Oh," Tech sighs. The neon lighting does a good job at hiding the heat rising to Tech's cheeks, turning red at the image of being here with you, or more specifically, being with you.

Before Tech can murmur up any kind of reply, your brows furrow once more as you feel the stranger tap on your shoulder again. You ignore him, and meet Tech's gaze as you ask for assistance. "Please pretend to be my boyfriend," you plead. This isn't the first time that the Batch have stepped in to fake date you, but it is Tech's first time, seeing as it's usually Hunter or Wrecker playing happy families with you.

Tech blinks heavily as he realises what you've asked for. He's obviously going to accept, but... how? How is he meant to pretend to be your boyfriend? Karking hell, what do couples even do when they're out in public?

"How?" Tech stutters, and you bite back a laugh at the image of Tech being stupefied for the first time in his life. Really? Is this all it's taken to confuse his poor, exceptional mind?

"Uh, for starters, put your arm around me," you suggest.

Tech, like the blind fool that he can be, places his hand in the most platonic area he can think of - your upper back.

You face plant, only for your expression to turn into a groan as you feel that dreaded tapping on your shoulder again. "Lower," you mutter, and finally, Tech moves his hand down to rest (or more specifically, hover) over the small of your back.

Knowing that this stranger won't give up without a fight, you snap your head over your shoulder as you state, "I've told you, I'm already here with someone!"

"Are you sure?" the shiny chuckles, and gestures to how awkward both of you look. "Poor guy looks like this is his first time around a woman," he snickers.

This time, Tech does overhear his comment, and glares at his poor excuse for a vod. Instinctively, his hand tightens around your waist, pulling you closer to his chest, and the overwhelming urge to snap almost takes over him, until you unintentionally prevent it from happening.

You turn back to Tech, ready to suggest that you two ignore the stranger, or even move away from him (seeing as your drinks have been placed on the bar top), but before you can even meet Tech's gaze, your vision turns back as your lashes flutter shut, instantly melting into the sudden sensation of somebody's lips pressed to yours.

In the heat of the moment, Tech has done the most logical thing to show that you two are 'dating.' Yes, maybe he should have asked for your permission first, and yes, maybe he should have held back on his anger, but the liquid courage running through his veins has given him that little push - directly onto your lips.

The fear that Tech has overstepped a boundary slips from Tech's mind when he feels you kissing him back, and even more when you slip your hands up and around his shoulders, pulling his chest tightly against yours. The kiss doesn't last long, a few seconds tops, but Maker, it feels like a lifetime.

However, both of your eyes are wide as you gaze at each other, coming to terms with what's just happened.

"I apologise," Tech instantly spits out, and loosens his grasp from your waist, leaving warm patches on your skin from where his hands were sitting.

"What?" you stutter. "Oh, no! Tech, it's fine!"

Whilst attempting to reassure Tech, you peer over your shoulder, only to see that the stranger has finally gone. Well, it worked, but at what cost?

"No, it's not fine. I apologise, I really should not have done tha-"

"Shut up, and kiss me," you mutter against Tech's lips before pressing your own to them.

You're certain that you both heard and felt a soft moan slip from Tech's lips before he deepened the kiss, his hands finding your waist once more. All questions and theories over your and Tech's 'friendship' is finally answered, and given how well his lips slide against yours, it's clear that you two should have started doing this a long time ago.

Tech's head tilts slightly, and with it, his glasses bump lightly against the bridge of your nose. You can't help but chuckle at the minor gesture, but your soft laughter is enough to catch Tech's attention. "Something funny?" he mutters against your lips. Oh, Maker. His tone of voice is nothing like you've ever heard before, deep and lustful, drawing you even closer to his frame.

"Just your quirkiness," you say with a soft laugh, and Tech chuckles along with you, before distracting your laughter with kisses. You're about to intrude by parting your lips, and sliding your tongue over his lower lip, until an irritated stranger mutters 'get a room!' within earshot.

Both you and Tech giggle as the kiss breaks. You finally pay attention to your drink sitting on the bar top, taking a sip and keeping it in your hand, whilst Tech moves one hand from your waist to pick up his own. As he turns back to you, you suggest a change of plan, rather than returning to the others.

"Would you like to find somewhere quiet?"

"To do what?" Tech sarcastically questions without missing a beat.

You smirk at his feign innocence, and Tech's expression matches your own. He's going to make you say it, but you can play at his game, or at least attempt to. "So I can teach you how to pretend to be my boyfriend, in case, you know, another stranger tries to chat me up," you explain with a shrug.

"Oh?" Tech quirks his brow. "You'll be the one teaching me, for once?" Tech chuckles, and you nod as your hand finds his, ready to pull him away to a quiet part of the club.

"My dear, I am always interested in your lessons," Tech smirks, and allows you to take the lead, weaving through the crowd, disappearing from the Batch's line of sight, who are all sitting with their mouths hanging open, questioning that random turn of events.

You two will have a lot of explaining to do when you finally make it back to the ship, unless if you beat them to it? For, you know, more private lessons?

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - July 17

Happy Sunday!! Here’s what I read this week. Be sure to leave your author a comment or kudos if you enjoy a story! 

***Marks my recent favorites 

~*~ 

shades of hedonism by Areiton

Sometimes, he’ll see a flash of color in a bodega, in a pharmacy while he buys water for his run, and he’ll think of that drawer swimming in expensive lipstick that Tony loves, and he flushes a little. 

the safest hands are our own by Areiton

His hands are gentle, Tony thinks, and sometimes he wonders if he’s still on the drugs the terrorists gave him. 

OR:

Tony is permanently injured after a kidnapping.

Steve takes care of him.

***One-Man Army by Captain_Panda

Takes place immediately after the Chitauri attack in Avengers 1.

Steve is running himself into the ground. Tony notices.

Then Steve gets knocked down hard. And Tony intervenes.

truth be told by meidui

“What’s one thing you haven’t told me about recently?”

Breaking Even by Captain_Panda

The world loves Iron Man.

But there's a ghost still in the machine. Steve reassures him he's still the star of his own Expo.

the hundredth by meidui

Their one hundredth birthdays and one hundredth anniversary.

Some Man's Treasure by Captain_Panda

Steve overhears a conversation between Tony and J.A.R.V.I.S. about the end of time.

Also known as pre-wedding jitters, with a dash of existential dread.

mortal gods by meidui

When Gorr the God Butcher comes, they think he’s here for Thor.

lipstick, chateau, wine colour by meidui

“I’m a little tired of playing for money,” Tony says, sweeping his chips to the side. He takes off his sunglasses, tinted wine-red, and nods to the side of the room. “I wanna play for him.”

right where we are by meidui

Steve has the day off today, so after he drops off his wife at Stark Industries for the day of board meetings she’d grumbled about all morning, he decides to take care of all the chores for the week and put together a relaxing evening for her. Of course, most of these plans are thwarted when he runs into a man standing outside their loft.

on his lips (like a prayer) by ArabellaAM 

When Steve decides to travel on his old Harley to attend a friend’s wedding, the possibility of his girl leaving him stranded in a town in the middle of nowhere doesn’t even cross his mind.

Luckily for him, that town happens to have a mechanic that might be able to help him.

Calling by Captain_Panda

There's true love, and then there's "I've been reincarnated as a dog and my sole purpose is to see you one last time."

Steve Rogers fits the latter category. Or, a modified version of the film Fluke.

silent, spoiling love by ArabellaAM

In the beginning, Steve doesn’t see anything weird in it.

Or, Steve finds a confidant in Tony and he doesn't realize just how much Tony cares about what he tells him until he starts getting lots of thoughtful gifts.

To the Victor by Captain_Panda

A former prince quietly enters his local jousting tournament.

The resident jousting enthusiast is very pleased.

That's right: it's a medieval Stony!AU.

A silent storm wrecks my being, you are beloved by captainstars 

“Five thousand doubloons.” He makes his bid. Steve’s body jerks in surprise and his eyes widen when they land on Tony across the hall. He struggles against his bonds but is pulled back by the collar. Tony is going to kill every single person who laid a finger on him, and he is going to relish in it.

***wildfires in the spring by meidui 

Steve is pulled out of the ice on a summer morning in 2010.

***Unraveling by Wikketkrikket

Steve has an art block. Toni has an idea: knitting. Because maybe Steve isn’t the most Alpha-y Alpha everyone thinks he is after all.

break me, shake me, devastate me by thesurielofficial

Tony wakes up with Steve fast asleep beside him. Steve's never stayed the night before. It's time for Tony to face the music and end this.

All I want is boundless love. by Missy_dee811

“Your report,” said Steve.

Tony groaned and got up from his chair. He put his hands in his pockets and started pacing.

Steve continued, “In your report… You neglected to mention you gave me mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.”

Strong as Death by babesrgrs

Steve is hit with a curse that has unexpected consequences, and Tony, who's never going on a diplomatic mission ever again, has a religious experience. The sexy kind.

and time can do so much by robertdowneyjjr 

Steve Rogers has a complicated relationship with time. He's the man out of time, the man who's lost everything to time.

But then he becomes friends with Tony Stark, whose love language is quality time. And that's exactly what Steve needs to find a place in this century.

[danganronpaimaginess]

Danganronpa Characters Seeing you in a Cute Outfit (no despair AU)

~~this is NOT a request. For these headcanons I picked Makoto, Aoi, Nagito, Sonia, Kiibo and Tenko. (I'm on phone, so I'm sorry for the bad layout)I hope you enjoy! ~mod fuyuhiko~~

MAKOTO NAEGI:

-As soon as he looked at you, he looked away. This worried you.

-When you wandered into his vision the second time, you noticed his beet red face. And then it all clicked.

-You began teasing him, poking his cheek and messing up his hair. Makoto puffed his cheeks out in response, albeit still flustered.

-"(y/n), stopppp...y-you look really pretty/handsome...t-today.."

-Makoto stumbled over his words so much you could hardly tell what he was saying. Soon, you deciphered it.

-"Aww, thanks Makoto! You're so sweet." You tackle him down onto the bed he was sitting on. Although you were on top of him, he was still looking everywhere but at you.

-"Makotoooooo, look at meee," you pouted, and he instantly looked over to you, face redder than ever. You chuckled.

-You lept up from the bed, grabbing Makoto's hand and dragging him out the door. "Let's go!"

AOI ASAHINA:

-Aoi was waiting for you in the kitchen, as per usual. You stumbled into the kitchen, wearing a new outfit you bought recently that you fell in love with.

-Aoi heard you open the door, and turned over to you, a donut in her mouth and a paper plate in her hand. Her jaw went slack. The donut fell onto the plate.

-As a red pigment coated her cheeks, she yelled, "(y/n)!!!! You're so beautiful/handsome!!" As she placed her plate onto the counter, she stormed over to you encasing you in a bear hug.

-You could hardly breathe by how tight she was hugging you, and you poked her back to tell her that. With Aoi being an athlete worthy of the title of 'Ultra', she easily managed to lift you up and cuddle you.

-You got flustered "Aoi....We're gonna be l-late.." Aoi remembered your date and let go, placing you on the ground delicately before trying to wrap up a donut and hide in her bag before you could see.

-You quickly caught her and reprimanded her, "Aoi, you're not gonna eat all the food you order at the restaurant if you eat all the donuts!" "The restaurant...oh! Right! Our date!"

-She ran to you so fast you could hardly see her and she grabbed your hand and sprinted to the door so fast you had just about enough time to grab your wallet.

-Even at the end of your date, she still begged for donuts (she made you take the route that has a Dunkin'Donuts along the way.)

NAGITO KOMAEDA

-Nagito always worshipped your fashion choices. He always thought you were so attractive and gorgeous, and he took any chance he could get to tell you that.

-You had put on an outfit that you were sure Nagito had never seen before. It was a Saturday, and in a self indulging mood, you decided to feel good about yourself. Nagito was sitting on the (favourite dark colour) couch in your living room.

-You walked over and sat next to him, a cup of (favourite drink) in one hand, a cup of Nagito's preferred drink in the other. "Hi, Nagito. How've you been, babe?"

-Nagito didn't look at you as you sat down, only turning to grab his drink. He reached out for it, but he froze as soon as he locked his eyes onto you. You silently cheered in celebration, happy that your new look really was quite jaw dropping.

-"(y/n), you're...you're perfect! Trash like myself doesn't deserve you... why'd you decide to dress up today?"

-You explained why you felt so confident today and he placed his cup down to embrace you tightly, one hand moving from your spine to your side, the other playing with your hair. (If you are uncomfortable with that, imagine him doing something else that calms you down)

-You immediately returned the embrace and soaked in the sweet whispers and compliments Nagito gave you, until he broke the hug and stood up. Having already being dressed, he grabbed his phone and your hand and led you outside.

-You two bought bagels at the end of your sudden date.

SONIA NEVERMIND:

-Sonia was attracted to you from day one. You were the only one she actually spoke to for the first few months of Hope's Peak Academy. You were a huge fan of Sparking Justice, just like her, so you two instantly clicked.

-Sonia asked you out after some time. You were over the moon! She got you treats and little trinkets all the time, which you told her was a bit too much. She didn't listen, and she showered you with expensive gifts 24/7.

-On a certain day, you and Sonia had a date you had never been on before; an anime binge date. Sonia invited you over to her... house? mansion? palace? as per usual, and as soon as she opened the door she froze like a deer in the headlights.

-You were dressed in a simple but comfortable outfit, perfect for cuddling and staying home. Sonia threw her arms around you, squealing adorably over you.

-"(y/n)! You're so pretty/handsome! I am absolutely in love with your style! Come in, come in!" She ushered you in after she was done ogling you.

-You two binge watched plenty of original anime, and before you knew it the sun was setting and you were falling asleep, head on Sonia's lap.

-She snapped countless pictures of you on her pretty dark purple phone, all at different angles. You would soon wake up to her adorable giggling, peeking over to see your sleeping face.

-"S-Sonia!" "I'm sorry, my beloved! I could not hold back!" As much as you wanted the pictures deleted, you couldn't help but melt at her cute giggles and smile.

KIIBO:

-Well, you guessed it; he overheated as soon as he laid his eyes on your form. How could he not? You were so handsome/beautiful to him, his servos starting freezing up.

-You got scared as he began to scream in a low monotone voice, falling in the process. You grabbed the boy before he could hit the ground, his eyes locked on yours the whole time.

-You took him to Miu, who lived in the apartment down the hall. Even she commented on your appearance! "Hell yeah, (y/n)! You look sexy as hell!"

-You set out as soon as Kiibo woke up, and he almost overheated when he saw you once again. Miu smacked him out of it.

-Kiibo, trying not to overheat, lead you to an adorable picnic he had set up. You got so impressed; you hugged him tight and he could feel his servos jitter as he hugged you back.

-As clichè as it was, you loved it to bits. Kiibo tried his best. Kiibo, who struggled to talk most the time, complimented you as much as he possibly could. When it got too cold to stay out for longer, you both went home.

-You passed out on his shoulder as soon as you got through the door. Kiibo almost overheated for the nth time that night, but he dragged you over to your bed as he tried ignoring it.

-He was probably going to overheat seeing you in the same outfit tomorrow, but oh well.

TENKO CHABASHIRA:

-Tenko was always going around insulting the men around her; you could hear her from miles away. She was quite easy to track down.

-That said, you were determined to show her your new outfit that you based around her own. It took a while, but you managed to find her in the hallway, pointing and aggressively raising her voice at poor Shuichi.

-You walked over to the bow haired girl, sliding your arms over her neck and embracing her in a hug. She got scared, but she noticed your head on her shoulder. "Ah! (Y/n), you're here! I'm happy to se-"

-It was then that she noticed your outfit. It didn't take long for her face to turn a rich red. She covered her face with her arms and pointed to you.

-"(y/n), w-what are you w-w-wearing!?" She stuttered and stumbled, her voice breaking quite often. "I was planning outfits, and I wanted to match with you, babe!"

-You knew exactly how to get her into a flustered and jumbled mess. Although she was quite tough, you were the only one who was able to break through that and always managed to make her a shy girl around you.

-"H-hey! We should go out somewhere...like, like right now!" "Tenko, it's almost time for class-" "Doesn't matter! We're leaving, now!" She sped through the exit with you in tow.

-While you two enjoyed your very unexpected date, Shuichi stood there shortly after you left, more or less confused on what he had witnessed.

[sambinnie]

1. On bank holiday Monday I woke two of the housemates at 4.15am, and we made a pan of hot chocolate and opened the door to hear the dawn chorus. One of them sensibly remained on a chair in the garden, insulated against the early May morning with a duvet and blanket and thick onesie; the other walked out with me, into the dark, and we tramped the streets together, along the silent pavements, towards the river and fields.

We discovered that a large ivy-covered tree is home to a bat colony, members of which flapped silently about our heads in their haste to return before full dawn. A cuckoo was audible across the water. A starling clicked its beak and jittered up and down the branch. The housemate called me a boomer.

Of all the odd things I miss from last year, it’s the silence of the roads that is the greatest loss. At 6 o’clock in the morning there would be almost no traffic at all; now the birds are almost drowned out by the constant roar, even some distance away. Whether it’s hormones or poor emotional processing or a rational reaction to a damaged world, I feel angry at the traffic. I’m not saying it would necessarily be a 100% smooth process, but I do wish the world could be run by peri-menopausal, menopausal and post-menopausal women for a year or two. Just to see.

2. I am still obsessed with Orlando Wood’s short book Lemon (I was banging on about it back in February), and am so grateful to have so many people in my life who care about those same ideas. We’re in a left-brain cycle of culture at the moment, he explains: the left brain has a tendency to “isolate parts from the whole and to see them in the abstract… It likes to break things up into smaller parts, to categorise, and therefore favours the familiar, consistency, repeatability and predictability”. It also “prefers to see things in terms of simple and linear cause and effect. It prizes utility, power and control, and its ability to abstract and isolate things from their context enables it to manipulate the world”. What’s that you say? Wider cultural discourse and rights of individual groups, inability to have dialogues about, you say? Mmm. 

My favourite part of the book is when Wood breaks down two adverts: Heineken’s ‘Water in Majorca’ from 1985, and GoDaddy’s 2018 ‘Make Your Own Way’ ad. Remember that? No, me neither. ‘Make Your Own Way’ is full of colourful images, isolated people, or tiled with images of themselves to make a ‘conveyer belt’ effect, and clean-face words which could be applied to almost any product or company (watch it to cure your insomnia/trigger a panic attack); everything is buzzword-y, inspirational, keynote, statement, unilateral, and utterly, utterly devoid of humour, humanity, or engagement. 

One of the most striking things about Wood’s ad breakdown is that, once you’ve read it, you can’t stop noticing how in, say, three ad breaks within an hour-long programme, there might be one advert at most which doesn’t fit this left-brain pattern. Adverts for products as diverse as cars, period reusables, white goods, clothing catalogues, insurance, snack food, and supermarkets all, to some extent or another, fit the mould: bright images, little human connection, bland Instagram visuals, large slogans, spoken-wordlessness (better for the global market), a vague puff of do-gooding, and absolutely no wit at all. The only one I’ve seen recently attempting anything different is Maltesers, about a breastfeeding mother and her mother-in-law, which I admired for the milk-leak and loathed for the Hahahaha, aren’t women awful to each other?.

It’s draining to imagine the flat meetings and endless audience segmentation that enabled this ad trend: this sector engages on social media in the evenings and this demographic prefers a friendly looking home and our audience here is more about food as a pleasure. I’m loathe to break it to them, but for all that laser-focused research you are all making the same ads. And as Wood exposes so brilliantly, those ad campaigns are costing more and more to receive less and less engagement. Congrats, lads. 

3. Speaking of left- and right-brain world views, as so often happens this episode of Hidden Brain popped up serendipitously, with the wonderful host Shankar Vedantam interviewing Iain McGilchrist about his 2010 book The Master and His Emissary. It’s just over 45 minutes and is worth every second — McGilchrist is so clear and insightful about how to tell what type of brain is leading at any given time, what we lose in a left-brain society, and what we need to do about it. (I went back and checked and only then saw the book is in Lemon’s bibliography. Bliss.) 

4. For various reasons, a small toilet room here has been stuffed with balloons for the last week. It’s absolutely staggering both how not one of us thought to remove the balloons, instead bobbling through them to reach the facilities at any given hour of night or day, and also how immensely relaxing it is to go in there since they’ve been removed and humanely destroyed (I assume). It’s A Squash and a Squeeze in action, a life philosophy I cling to pretty robustly and find pays dividends. A housemate pointed out recently that whenever they are travelling in my car, they play a game to see if they can ever see another car in worse condition, and they say they never, ever can. It’s the Squash and a Squeeze philosophy that, in part, enables me to drive the dented, rusting, bubbled, scratched, lichen-furred, beloved piece of garbage I do, having previously had no driving license for almost two years after my seizure. It’s such a delight to drive any car at all. 

5. We’re rewatching Ghosts, which of course I recommend, and I suddenly realised that the Captain (Ben Willbond) is the speaker of possibly my favourite newspaper-based gag in the entire run of The Thick of It. Please watch all of Ghosts and all of The Thick of It, then perhaps The Death of Stalin? All thoroughly excellent, and the latter two contain my favourite kind of Muriel’s Wedding-type comedy, where I am tearfully wheezing with laughter one moment, then gaping with discomfited horror the next. 

6. I made Nigel Slater’s cardamom-spiced rice pudding this weekend, (although I times everything by 1.5 except the rice, which I up to 200g) and it was as good as always, if I say so myself. Cardamom, like capers, coriander, and pistachios, is an ingredient I’ve only come to love as an adult — I often long to make cardamom buns but am in such an emotionally entangled relationship with my sourdough starter that I never have yeast in the house, so have to rely on my favourite local coffee shop for a hit every now and again. If someone wedges themselves against the fridge door this weekend, I might attempt these. 

[futurewriter2000]

The Cinderella Cliché

A/N: Took me a while to get started but I made it. And I dunno about the second part. I had a few idea sbut I dunno?? Also sorry for not posting much. My computer is at the fixing service thing and well... School.

REQUEST:I know this is a cinderella cliché but I really wanted to read a story where the reader can not find a partner for yule ball because she is quiet and invisible to others. Then when she becomes sad her parents to encourage her send dress, jewelry to the ball. She goes and ends up being the most beautiful girl in the ball. after the ball she has to deal with the popularity and attention of the boys, including Sirius Black, the boy she always avoided thinking about for fear of falling in love.

XX

The glimmer in their eyes and the brightness of their smile was all it ever took to change your mood. Jitter, giggles, excitement.. They were everywhere, iluminating the joy of the upcoming dance meanwhile you were sat behind your desk as another weekly routine.

You felt more and more disappointed sighs leave your lungs. Every breath felt heavier. To you that was just another great night you will have to miss. 

And then there was the Ravenclaw who always sat at the desk in front of you. The Ravenclaw, who you were so keen on asking to the Yule Ball. He was quet, mysterious, tall, masculine and he had a wonderful mix of green and blue eye colour. Everytime you looked at those two crystals it was like a moment the world went quiet and there was you and him. Though it seemed he didn't feel the same or else he would have asked you to be his date for the Ball.

You wanted him to ask you. Why didn’t he ask you? Why didn't anybody ask you?

“So?” he turned around in his seat, smiling. “What did you think?”

“About the book?” you smiled. “It was okay, not really my style.”

He rolled his eyes far back. “Not your style.” he scoffed mockingly.

“Well, I couldn’t quite understand the second chapter. Was she dreaming or was that real?” 

He gave you a teasing smile and shrugged. “I dunno.”

“Yes, you do!” you laughed.

“Guess you’ll have to read it again.” he turned around in his seat.

“Jonnah Marsiel, you turn back around right now!” you continued to laugh but he only looked over his shoulder and sent you a wink.

“Never, love.” 

You smiled at his reply. He has never called you that. Never in all three years of your friendship. And from his tongue the word rolled with such elegance to which you could listen to it on replay forever. But then again he asked someone else to the Yule Ball so that word- that nickname didn’t really mean anything to you, did it?

It was then a flop of a bag that shook you out of your thoughts and doubts. Someone, who was tall, masculine, dark haired and light-eyed as well, threw their bag on the desk beside you and started talking. 

“She’s going to be the most gorgeous girl in the whole Yule Ball.” he beamed at his friends. “And with me, we are-”

“You are nothing. Lily and I will be the best couple there. Head Boy and Head Girl, two beloved Gryffindors, a perfect, smart, popular girl and a Quidditch captain. Please. You don’t stand a chance.” James continued and you felt yourself snort. 

Of course, the typical stereotype. 

Sirius sat on the chair next to you, still facing his friends. “Sure but my date is smart, perfect, popular and a Quidditch captain of her own house, so that makes you and Lily noting compared to me and her.”

You tried not to listen. I think the whole class tried to ignore the conversation between those two friends and you noticed the teacher coming your way to who you knew he didn't have patience nor tolerance for your sitting buddy.

“Do you mind speaking even louder, Sirius Black, perhaps even come here and tell us all about you and your Yule Ball escort?” a stern voice spoke highly above the two of you. . 

Sirius' eyes travelled up professor's tall body and he replied. “No.” he shook his head and grinned. “I’m alright just here, professor.” 

 He didn’t even look at you. Not a single glance. He kept his nose burried in the paper, doodling someting down or looking around the class, stuck in his own thoughts. It was until the moment before the bell rang that he leaned on the desk, looking up at you with those big grey eyes. 

“Hey.” he whispered and your eyes flickered to him then back at the perfect cursive writing of your professor.

“Hey?” you looked back at him, the blackboard and scribbling down on the parchment.

His eyes glanced down at your tie. “You’re a Gryffindor?” he wondered, furrowing his own eyebrows.

That question squeezed your throat a bit but you managed to pull through. “Yes.”

“And you’re my year?” 

Again it squeezed and again you pulled through. “I am.” you now decided to stop writing down and put your full attention on him. 

“You always sit in the back, right?” 

“It is my usual spot, yes.” you started to get irratated a bit. Why was he asking you those questions?

“How come you’re sitting here then?”

“Because how else would I enjoy a great company like yours?” you blurted out, narrowing your eyes and seeing him smirk. 

“Do I sense some sarcasm in there? Didn’t know you could talk right about then, let alone be sarcastic.”

“Well then let us-”

“If you want to talk Miss (y/l/n) and Mister Black, than I recommend the two of you start a debate club out of class but until the two of you are in my class, mouths are shut and ears are open.” the professor was now standing in front of the two of you again, looking down meanwhile you both innocently looked up. You felt a blush creep on your cheeks meanwhile Sirius only smiled.

“Well, then professor-”

“We won’t do it again.” you cut in avoiding Sirius’ eye contact and looking straight up the professor.

The professor gave you and Sirius a suspicious, narrowed glare and nodded. "Very well." he began to walk away and you took that opportunity to look at a Sirius, who kept a confused yet interested look on you.

The bell rang and in all your mighty power, you threw the supplies in your bag, leaving the room. Sirius stayed behind, looking at the door where you disappeared and repeated your last name in his mind. ‘(y/l/n)’ 

---

It was until you were safe in your own dorm that you screamed into your pillow from embarassment. Why? Why does he alwas do that?! Embarass you!

You clawed the pillow but instead of letting out another scream, you put your head up to see what exactly did your fingers claw. It wasn't a pillow. It was a letter. A letter from your parents and until you read it to the bottom, you haven’t noticed the big, white box with a red bowtie in front of you. 

They want you to go. Period. 

You sighed as the letter dropped from your hand. “Going alone is stupid.” you burried your head in your palms and let it stay there. 

‘You won’t know until you go there and try it. Maybe you’ll have fun.’ your mother’s words repeated in your head. You took the letter in your hands again are re-read the same line. ‘Go. Be young. Be fearless, It's the only time you can be that and get away with it.’

You smiled. She was right. Of course, she was right. She was your mother. She was always right. 

---

It took you a while to get ready. Actually, it took you a lot since it was all last minute and your roommates were all at the Ball already to give you any help.

But you were not bad at makeup. Growing up with a Muggle cousin, who is a makeup artist since young age, always dressing yourselves up in tiny princesses and stealing makeup from both of your mothers actually paid off. 

You were now curling the last strand of your curls, when you were having second thoughts about this. Should you even go? I mean you already did all this work. You have to go.

You stared in the mirror, looking at what you have done with yourself and for the first time, you loved that person. You jumped over to the white box, pulled out the dress and put it on. 

Now, you were finally ready. 

---

The ball has started half an hour ago when you finally decided to walk in. Why exactly were you half an hour late? Because walking in heels takes time to get used to. 

You took a deep breath in, gathering all the courage that you had left and walked in.

It was so much to take in. The lights, the glimmering, the different colours of gowns and bowties. It was so... Marvelous.

Nobody quite payed attention to you as they were too busy intertaining themselves but as soon as their eyes glanced at you, even for a moment of second, the next time they landed fully on you, stayed there.

You couldn't even notice those eyes. You were busy looking at the sparkles and the dance floor. The view caused this anxious yet excited feeling in your heart and stomach. It felt new. It felt nothing like the you, you're used to.

When you noticed the different coloured pair of eyes on you, you felt a satisfied smirk curve on your lips. You lifted your gown and continued to the bottom of the stairs. It wasn’t easy walking alone without anybody by your side but that independance was exactly what made the anxiety fly away from your heart. There was only room for excitment and good music.

It was the independnce, the courage that shone at those grey-like eyes. Until he followed James’ eyes to you, he didn't notice but when he did, his mouth parted yet his eyes could never. Not even if he tried. They were stuck on you like honey.

You haven’t really walked much until there was a boy standing next to you. Someone who you have never seen in all your Hogwarts year. He was leaning on the punch table, grinning and swallowing you with his dark eyes. “Hey there, princess.” 

“Hi.” you said as you poured some glittery punch in your glass. 

“I’m Avery.” he stretched out his hand and it wasn’t even three inches that your hand moved, he was already kissing the back of it. “What pleasure is meeting a Veela like you here.” he kept a wicked look on his face-a look you couldn’t trust. 

You backed away from him. “I wish I could say the same for you.” you frowned at him then put the punch down and started to walk away. “Now, excuse me, I have to find my friends.” you pushed through the crowd until you crashed into a boy- No. You crashed into a man. Tall, broad shouldered, handsome man. 

“(Y/N).” his eyes didn’t even bulge out as it did from the rest. They observed as if you were a gentle cloud, floating in front of him. There was this calmless in his voice. A nice, comfortable peace that setbyour heart rate back down.

“Jonah.” you smiled shyly.

“You look amazing.” he said, taking your hand in his and spinning you around. “Truly amazing.” 

A heat wave washed your cheeks and you could feel yourself grow redder. “You’re not bad yourself, Marsiel.” you teased and he chuckled. 

It all felt so wonderful, looking into his crystal eyes and feeling the tension between the two of you groe. It was as if the chemistry was so strong, you didn’t want to resist anymore..... Until his date jumped inbetween and cut all those ties. 

You felt yourself standing alone as Jonah was being dragged away, appologising to you with his eyes. Hugging your arms, you looked around the dancefloor where everybody was paired up and again another disappointed sigh left your lungs. You walked back to the tables and sat down, letting your head fall on your palm and your eyes on the pair in the far back.

That could be you dancing with him.

“Hey.” someone whispered beside you and your eyes glanced to him. 

He was leaning his head on the table, looking up at you with those big grey eyes, grinning and loving every second of it.

“Hey?” 

“Why are you sitting here?” he asked, the glimmer growing behind his eyes.

“This is my usual spot, yes.” you smiled. 

“How come a girl as beautiful as you is deserted here in the back?” he asked, this time straigthening his posture in his seat.

You snorted and crossed your arms. “Because how else would I be enjoying this smooth flirtation of Sirius Black.” 

“You wear sarcasm so good it makes my head spin, darling.” he leaned forward with his eyes now looking at yours and his teeth biting his lower lip.

The eye contact didn’t break. Not even for the slightest moment. It was just you and him and the stuffed music in the backround. 

“I can read your thoughts, you know?” his lips curved wider yet his eyes kept themselves on yours.

“Oh, really?” 

“Yes really. I can sense you want to dance with a wonderful lad. Black hair, grey eyes, tall, handsome- a Gryffindor nevertheless.” he continued and you rolled your eyes at him.

“-Persistant, careless, getting me into trouble.” 

“All the good qualities.” he winked and stood up. He walked behind you, firstly placing his hands on the chair behind you and sending a cold shiver down your spine. You could feel him lean over your shoulder, his breath gently hitting against the skin of your neck as he finally whispered in your ear. “So how about that dance?”

[momo-de-avis]

So regarding the conundrum I was stuck in, which I expressed yesterday, I’ve reached a veredict. And I would actually appreciate some feedback because this is THE low point. This is where the line on the graph just falls down like a damn slope.

Keep in mind this is the structure: the character who wrote the letter, Etain, is already dead. The very previous chapter shows her death, and why it happened. It is mentioned she wrote a letter, and this would be the letter she sent that her betrothed reads.

Defeated, he fell on a chair, head stuck between his hands. All around him, the two continued to discuss—Flann as cautious as ever, Ewan siding with the younger one, pros and cons being listed, one eager to put together a party to assess his claims, stating that sending a few scouts couldn’t hurt, they should at least try. Flann agreed with the scouts, but not everything else—it was an unnecessary risk, they had to wait until they reached further north and secured a safe passage towards Dunmorrígain so they could contact the ó Conchobhair, with their aid they could then prepare an assault.

But the uncertainty in Seán’s heart grew, a flutter that propelled him to move in his seat like a restless child, hands up and down his body, between messing his hairs and slapping his knees, jittering leg evidencing his despair. I have to have faith, he thought, closing his eyes for a moment as behind him the two men continued to discuss the matter with a growing voice that was borderline a shouting contest. He had come to notice that Ewan and Flann tended to disagree on several matters, far too much than what should be expected of a clan bearing not two, but three leaders. It sometimes caused a fuss between their men, who seemed torn between the two and acted irrationally out of, perhaps, a lack of discipline. He hoped that wouldn’t be the case then.

Time passed; outside, the sounds of merry living dwindled, light decreasing as the sun settled in the horizon, and inside the tent, the fight ensued. Seán didn’t move, only occasionally turning back to say something he believed to be useful, though he was sure none of them paid attention to what he had to say. Then, a man came inside, holding a letter between his fingers and called for either of the leaders. Ewan and Flann exchanged a look, the former taking a step forward and leaning in to listen to the messenger’s whisper.

Ewan looked down at the letter, a layer of pallor cast over his face as he gulped in silence. His eyes skimmed the inside of the tent as if he sought for something, but they rested on him, on Seán. He gave a step forward, handed him the letter and nodded.

“For you,” he said. “From Alba. It just arrived.”

Seán’s hands trembled, his fingers barely able to hold the paper. The seal struck a chord of fear in his heart—the green apple of the ó Cairbre. His mouth went dry and he blinked repeatedly; there was a hazy sensation to the world, as if it swirled and moved despite his existence, outside himself, with no meaning, no connection to his soul, no relation to him whatsoever. It was a good sign, was it not? She had written him a letter—it had to be Etain’s words inside—and that meant she was safe. Yet something inside his heart sent a shudder of a horrifying anticipation, one he couldn’t quite explain.

He broke the seal. The letters danced on the paper when he unfolded it, and for a while, they seemed to bear no meaning. Do not come for me, no matter what happens. His hand waved in the air, found solace in covering his mouth when tears sparked in his eyes. I am lost, and this I have chosen with a clear conscience, now I only pray to Brigid that you find it in your heart to forgive me. A dash of pain, cold and brisk, stabbed his heart and shot up his head; for a moment, he thought he went blind, but was simply blinking. His eyes focused with difficulty, the words now contorting under the yellow tint of the lights that brought out their irrational shape and buried their crude meaning into the depths of his scarred mind. Am I to live, he will make me a prisoner and negotiate my life with Selena—I cannot allow that, my love. I cannot allow myself to put her in that position.

Both Ewan and Flann disappeared from his sight; all there was, was the irritating sepia tone of the air around him, the intense smell of burned wax and wood, and the clanging sounds of metal outside, cups clinking against one another as voices raged in roaring laughter. A distant, inconceivable joy he couldn’t place. He wasn’t there, but thrust into somewhere unknown, a black nothingness where Etain’s words stung his skin like a million needles.

I am told they’re only a day away as I write this. It is likely the ó Cinnéid will yield. They’re weak, have always turned where the money is and hide their tails between their legs like cowards. Do not trust them. Lugh knows I cannot, and I have accepted the fate of our city. Now, I have to accept mine.

The words became blurry. Seán wiped his eyes with the back of his hand when the tears came, blinked repeatedly at their stinging sensation. Protect her. Fight for her. A sob escaped his lips; his hand shivered, he could barely hold the paper. Stay with her, forever. Don’t ever leave her side. She needs you, my love. He crumpled the letter, though he didn’t mean to; he thought of throwing it away, but couldn’t do it. Etain’s very soul was contained in it, her very essence enclosed in the ink that stained it in those daunting words.

Tell Selena I love her, and how much it saddens me that I will never get to see her crowned. Perhaps my spirit will linger, and I shall walk by her side until her dying days. I certainly hope the gods are kind enough to grant me the gift of peering through the veils, if only to make sure her life is a gracious one.

Ewan’s hand moved, trying to reach for his shoulder in a calming pat, but Seán warded him away. The letter was clutched to his hand like an amulet—he couldn’t let it go. He opened it again, pressed it against the table to soften the creases of his impulsive gesture, a sense of regret so great possessing his heart he felt he was tending to Etain herself, muttering the words as he did so: I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, my love, I am so sorry.

I left my wedding dress on my bed. Ever since the day I left the School, I longed to wear it. I chose the colour blue because it reminded me of the seas, the same that’s always scared you so much.

Flann tried to speak to him, but Seán told him to shut up. The map was now a deriding vision, a divine mockery. There was no room for the flashing memories that assaulted him—all he could think of was Alba and its gardens, the marble statues of Etain’s favoured place, sprinkled with apple trees and quinces everywhere as she hopped around merrily. Her giggle. The way her eyes crushed whenever she smiled, her cheeks pink as roses in puerile joy. Her golden locks swaying at the salty breeze, how graciously they framed her round face.

I keep thinking of the day I fell in love with you. That day you found me in the arena and I begged you not to tell the guards on me. We had known each other for eleven years, and I wondered: how could I have missed it? How could we have lived together as friends for so long and missed on the love that bloomed right there and then, so immediate it took me by surprise? How could we have shared a lifetime together and only find this joy so shortly before we parted ways? I wish I could return there. I wish I could stand in the School’s arena with you right now. I wish I was hiding behind a tree or under the benches as you pressed a hand against my lips to keep me quiet while the guards searched for us. I thought the School would tear us both apart if we let everyone know, but as it turns out, it was never in the gods’ plans.

The world, Seán, is more cruel than I figured. Alba was always peaceful. I had my stupid gardens and my ocean, and I had you. And all the while, our beloved Selena suffered. They taught us for eleven years the tools to survive in a world that isn’t ours. They kept us hidden and protected like precious gems, and released us into the world like tamed animals. You and I, and Selena, we don’t know how to survive in it. The three of us were always bound to inherit a war we didn’t start. That’s why you must always stand by her side, that’s why you must always fight for her. So that in one year, two years, eleven years, the next children won’t fear what we feared.

I love you, so much I understand now our fates are not bound together. I love you enough to take the fall so you shall stand. But I promise you I shall not fall alone. You’ve always said I was a better dancer than I was a fighter. I suppose the time has come for my last dance, my love.

“There has to be time for—” his words died on his tongue, sucked in by his own sobbing. When another pair of hands touched him, Séan pushed them away. “You have to go to Alba right now! You have to do something!”

And the world swirled, untamed, distant and disconnected. All he thought about was Etain, her garden, her quinces and apple trees; all he thought about the wedding that never happened, the mistakes committed in the past. Her joy, her smile, her giggle. Her bossy attitude, her imposing stance, the way she pressed her lips together when she wanted things done her way, how her eyes fulminated whoever crossed her. Her blind acceptance of Selena’s reveal, how she hadn’t flinched at the thought of her best friend being Lavinia’s daughter. Devoted and faithful, as she had always been.

Ewan’s hands held him down by the shoulders; this time, Seán didn’t fight him. His strength waned, his vision blurred. The letter shuddered in his hand, the words now indistinct. I love you, and please forgive me. They danced in his mind like a haunting, and images of Etain projected themselves in his mind as a last attempt to hold on to her. Stand with her, fight for her, don’t ever leave her side. Promise me. I promise you, he thought, but he couldn’t; if he promised her, that meant accepting she was gone, but there was still time, there was still a chance.

“I cannot—” tears ran down his cheeks. “I cannot leave her, we have to—” there had to be a chance, there had to be a chance at saving her, saving the city, saving Alba’s gardens; a chance at standing atop the walls overlooking the black rocks whipped by the white foam of the seas, as Etain leaned over with arms wide open, giggling. He had to see her again. “Please, I beg you, we have to—”

“I’ll gather a party,” Ewan said, his hands now holding his face. “We’ll leave in the morning.”

Seán nodded. There had to be a chance.

So yeah, my idea was taunting the reader with this idea of the character being obsessed with the possibility of there being a chance, because there isn’t. By now, the reader knows there’s no chance. She’s dead and the reader saw it. 

(And then there’s one character left for us to see just how much this fucks her up)

[artlessictoan]

If you still take requests, I would like to request yodochou

and it’s only fitting to end on my most beloved rarepair ofall! sorry it took me a few days to get to this, but it’s cute and fun and i kinda wanna turn it into a full fic now.. so hopefully it’s worth the wait!

(requests now closed)

—

Music thudded through the walls, thick and heavy and dark –just how she liked it – she could practically hear the jittering screech of athousand plastic cases shuddering against metal shelves. Normally, she would’vetaken this opportunity to rock out, headbanging until she felt dizzy andscreaming along with the lyrics at the top of her voice… unfortunately, shestill had a job to do; there wasn’t enough space in here anyways.

She settled for nodding along and tapping her foot, singingunder her breath as she focused on organising some new stock instead.

“Oh! Yeah we’re gettin’ wise and you push much further we’regonna fucking rise, tear down your constitution ‘cause we’re done withsubjugation, better count your days ‘cause they… ‘re…. huh?” Trailing offawkwardly when the music came to an abrupt halt, she glanced around until shefound the source.

Sarada was glaring darkly behind her glasses, hand still onthe sound system’s power button. “Fucking hell Yodo, would it kill you to turnit down?”

Rolling her eyes, she went back to sticking CDs intoalphabetical order, shouting over her shoulder, “What? No one’s here, I’mdrawing customers in.”

“By deafening them the second they enter the door?”

She puffed her cheeks up, putting away the last album beforejogging over and jumping onto the counter, glancing down at her co-worker. “Anyoneput off by loud music isn’t a truemetalhead, we don’t need people like that shopping here.”

Dark eyes narrowed at her, before she scoffed, “Tell that tothe ledgers.”

“Well you got any better ideas?” she asked, picking at thechipping paint on her nails, idly wondering what colour she should go for next– midnight black, jet black, or maybe void black?

“Actually yes-” aheavy thump jolted the table top beneath her, as Sarada dropped a thick pile ofpaper down, “-here, go stand outside and pass these out, do try not to look so sour, we want peopleto actually come to this thing.”

Frowning, she peeled away the top flyer and examined it; apparentlythe store was hosting a gig featuring local metal bands so small-time even Yodohad never heard of them – and she liked to keep her ear to the ground when itcame to music. “Since when were we doing this? And what the fuck’s with thesebands, Six Paths of Pain? Bloody Mist? BubblegumBang?”

“Since last month, I told you about it when I got the ideaand you said, and I quote, ‘sure whatever,’ maybe if you’d actually paidattention and helped out we might’ve landed some-”

“Ok, ok, fine,” she said, leaping to the floor and grabbingthe stack of paper, “but we’re playing too, right? Gotta get some talent up there, actually it’sprobably best it’s a bunch of nobodies playing, wouldn’t wanna embarrass anactually good band by upstaging them so bad.”

Sarada snorted, flashing that nasty grin of hers. “Obviously.We’re gonna wreck ‘em all!”

Cackling and slapping her hand against her friend’s outstretchedone, Yodo trudged out onto the street, her smile instantly dropped into a glarethe second the bright sun hit her eyes though.

This part of town wasn’t particularly busy, never had been,which meant that she didn’t actually have many people to grumpily pass flyersto, but that was kind of the problem; it was hard enough for a specialist musicstore to get off the ground in the first place, let alone one in such a quietarea, especially when…

Fuck, there shewas.

Yodo and Sarada’s little start-up wasn’t the only music shopon the street, just three shops down there was another one, one with a muchbroader and more mainstream stock than their rock, punk and metal, which ofcourse made them way more popular with customers and a thorn in Yodo and Sarada’scollective sides.

And it was run by the most beautiful woman she’d ever laideyes on, who was right now standing on the street, cheerfully calling out to passers-byand waving bright flyers in their faces until they relented and accepted one.

She was looking gorgeous, as usual, long, copper hairflowing free over her shoulders, beautiful curves concealed by baggy dungarees,though tantalising glimpses of the tight crop-top she wore underneath weredefinitely making her mouth a little dry and, worst of all, her full lips –painted that deep plum colour that she loved – were wrapped around a goddamned lollipop, each subtle shift and fleetingglimpse of tongue successfully driving Yodo further and further into madness.

Her arch rival, in both business and music taste, and shewas completely smitten.

If Sarada didn’t have a banshee’s screech loud enough tomake her shudder just thinking about it, she would have immediately marchedback inside to hide under the counter until she’d regained control of herheartbeat, however, since she did, Yodo decided to just walk behind the helpfulblock of greenery in the middle of the footpath and hope for the best.

Apparently her mood was still showing on her face though, judgingby the way that people flinched and rather pointedly started jogging in the otherdirection the second she so much as glanced their way.

Why did Sarada think it was a god idea to send her out to promote their shop anyway?

After another minute of failing to even draw someone closeenough to throw a slip of paper at them, she gave up with a groan and sat downon the short brick wall, leaning back into a thick bush, ignoring the twigsstabbing at the back of her head.

Maybe she’d be better off just taping the flyers to lamppostsinstead, or just calling up her friends – though Sarada had probably alreadydone that, they ran in the same circles after all – hell, maybe if she justchucked a load out of a high window people might get curious and pick some up,actually, that wasn’t a bad idea, surely it couldn’t be that illegal, besides her dad could always-

“Hey girl, I thought I saw you just now!”

Blinking rapidly, mind still half focused on advertisements,Yodo turned to glare at whoever had disrupted her thought process.

The speed at which blood rushed to her cheeks probably brokethe sound barrier.

“You stuck with flyer duty too?” the beautiful woman asked,flopping down next to her. “Super sucks, doesn’t it?” Her eyes – amber, theyjust had to be contacts, surely –were sparkling in the midday sun and she had a huge smile aimed right at her.

“Uh-huh…”

If she was bothered by the utter lack of response, she didn’tshow it. “Not as if people actually look at shit some stranger throws at themon the street, might as well just stand out here with a megaphone, it’d atleast be cheaper.”

“Mmm…”

“So, what’s happening at your place anyways?” she asked, questionnot even fully out her mouth before she leaned across Yodo to snatch a handful ofpapers.

Slightly panicking, Yodo stumbled for some words that wouldmake the gig seem less lame than it looked. “Oh, uh, just a gig to… promotelocal rock bands, an’ stuff… y’know, helping small groups get out there a lil, nothingbig.”

The woman was clearly trying to stifle a laugh as she readthrough some of the band names. “BubblegumBang? That’s a joke, right?”

“I fuckin’ wish,” she groaned, “never even heard of ‘embefore I saw the flyers today.”

Her laughter was warm and husky and sounded like moltencaramel; Yodo couldn’t help shuddering slightly. “Well, this Jinchuriki Stompgroup sounds pretty cool at least.”

Great, as if her cheeks couldn’t get any redder. “Actually…that’s my band.”

Steadfastly refusing to look her companion in the eyes, Yodoglowered at the man walking by in his sharp, neat suit instead – his purposefulsteps faltered for a moment, before he scurried off down the road, head downand walk uneven – idly picking at her nail polish again and just waiting forthe inevitable snickering to start.

“No fucking way-” here it comes, “-that’s so cool! What sortof music do you play? What do you play, no, wait lemme guess, bass? Ooh, do yousing too? I bet you’ve got a gorgeous voice.”

Unable to get a word in edgeways, Yodo just nodded along,admiring the way her lipstick shimmered and wondering if the taste of whateverflavoured lollipop she’d been sucking earlier was imprinted on them – was it raspberry?Yodo dearly hoped it was.

“Well,” the woman finally took a breath as she handed backthe flyers she’d stolen, though not before keeping one back for herself and carefullyfolding it to fit in her pocket. When she stood up to leave, she gave Yodo awink and a smile, calling a cheerful, “Guess I know what I’m doing Fridaynight!” over her shoulder as she walked away, disappearing in a flash of copperand gold.

When Sarada finally came out to find her co-worker, brightblue paper was strewn across half the street and Yodo had long since lost touchwith the world around her.

—

[bloodytbs]

jitters - Luke Hemmings

Summary: after being together for a little over seven months, Luke was finally going to meet your parents. You planned to do it much sooner, but considering the fact that Luke travelled lot, it never actually happened. Until today. 

A/N: this is really short because I wasn't sure if I should stop or go on. so I stopped, but if you want more, let me know, then I'll edit it and write more of it. 

requests are always open if you have some ideas that you want me to write for you or something

lots of love and enjoy x 

“Stop doing that!” you groaned for the nth time whilst slapping your hand down on your boyfriends leg whose has been bobbing it up and down for over ten minutes. “why are you so nervous anyway?”

“because!” he groaned back whilst turning left in a street. “because they are your parents and I want to impress them,” he said softer than before and looked at you for a second before focussing back on the road. You smiled at his nervousness. 

“You don’t have to worry about that, Luke. They will love you just as much as I love you, don’t worry.” 

With his eyes still on the road – he knew you’d kill him if he wasn’t paying attention to the road – he smiled softly and gave your knee a little squeeze as a respond and a little thank you.    

“How was work by the way, I totally forgot to ask,” 

“It was fine, a couple of irritating costumers who weren’t that kind, but you know, that’s part of being an event planner, am I right?” you responded whilst swinging your bare legs over your boyfriends red dashboard. Red was one of your favourite colours, hence why you loved Luke’s car so much.

“Yeah, I know what you mean, management was being a dick again, with their stupid pr stunts and hate towards our fans,” 

And with that, the both of you were talking the whole way to your parents house, settling Luke’s nerves for at least a while. 

With his teeth digging into his bottom lip and his fingers fixing the hem of his shirt — things he always did when he was nervous – Luke stood beside you in front of your parents’ door. He wouldn’t even be surprised if he started to cry from nervousness. 

Since he is a celebrity, he knows how it feels to be under pressure and to be nervous. His bandmates and he always wanted to make a good impression, to make the fans proud, to make music that is good enough for the outside world. Being famous also meant thinking about what to wear, so you don’t make a fool out of yourself. It meant knowing that there are always going to be someone who doesn’t like you or who is going to have hateful comments. So yeah it was kind of an understatement to say that Luke is familiar with the nervous feeling. 

But somehow this was different. This time, he didn’t have to impress the whole world, just your parents. Two people. But two people that meant the world to you. So that was a big deal for your boyfriend.

“You’re going to do great Luke, don’t worry,” You pinched his hand that was laced in yours one more time before the front door was opened by your beloved, beautiful mother. 

“Baby,” she shrieked whilst pushing your body in her arms. “I’ve missed you.”

“Hey mum, I’ve missed you too,”

“Ah, you must be Luke Hemmings,” 

“The one and only,” With a tight and nervous smile on his lips, he sticks his hand out to greet you mother. 

“Oh boy, I’m not having any of that, come here,” Just like she did with you before, you engulfed Luke in her infamous hugs. “It is very nice to meet you Luke.”

“Likewise, Ms. Y/L/N,” 

“Luke, this is my dad.” You gestured towards you father who had appeared next to your mother. 

“Hello there sir.”

“Good to finally see you Luke, and please call me Y/D/N”

And with that the front door was finally closed and the evening had started the right way.

[remeny-writes]

Merry Christmas-ish Part 3

So this is for the @rpdrficexchange. I got matched up with @honeyedcurves and I really hope you like it. If you don't, I can write something different.

TW hospitals

“So I was thinking…”

“Always a dangerous activity.”

“Oh shut up!” Katya laughed then grew serious, “we should move our Christmas up to November 5th.”

Trixie could run one of two ways with this, he could tell Katya that a heart would come or he could crack a joke. He chose the latter, “you just want your present earlier, ya big ol’ baby!”

Katya elbowed him in the shoulder. “Why do you know me so well? You're so mean! But seriously can we?”

Trixie’s mouth hitched up on one side in a lopsided grin, “ok fine!”

He gave in just like Katya knew he would, playing perfectly into his plan.

They got the call on their special Christmas Eve, they were curled up watching a movie and eating lasagne, well more precisely Trixie was eating and Katya was pushing the food around on his plate before pushing the plate away all together and grumbling about not being hungry. He had been getting worse lately and had been hospitalized twice in the past 2 weeks.

Katy answered the phone with shaking hands, automatically putting it on speaker and setting it on his chest since he found it too taxing to hold the phone up without losing circulation in his hand.

“Brian, we have a heart for you.” Dr Gilmour announced, the excitement in her voice was almost palpable. “It’s in the air now, it's been double and triple checked so we won't have a problem like last time.”

“Ok, we’re on our way.” Katya said in a monotone before hanging up. He refused to get excited this time, the last time felt like his trashy heart was being crushed to smithereens.

Trixie squealed and hugged him gently before grabbing Katya’s portable oxygen tank and yanking the fully packed hospital bag out of the front closet and throwing their phones and laptop and their various cords in. It had been carefully packed for months in preparation for this moment. Trixie had found the list on Pinterest. It had the basics like toiletries, lip balm and lotion, magazines they hadn't read yet, ear plugs and sleep mask, slippers and loose clothing. Then it had things they would have never thought of, 2 empty refillable water bottles, snacks for Trixie to stress eat while waiting, a battery powered fan for white noise since Kat couldn't stand the beeping on his previous hospital stays and a stuffed Tenderheart Care-bear from Ginger. An adult colouring book and pencil crayons were suggested for the pre-surgery waiting jitters by a fellow heart patient whom they met on one of Kat’s hospital stays in the last 10 months.

Katya labouriously sat up in bed, switching to the shorter oxygen tubing to his portable tank, it was only 5:15pm but he was as exhausted as if it were 3am and he’d been working out for 10 days straight. He had to stop 5 times on the way to the car, breathing heavily and being supported by Trixie who had offered to carry him. He bristled and declined, it was totally emasculating to be offered to be carried like a child, even if it was by someone who loved him as much as he knew Trix loved him.

There were no jokes even though Trixie drove like a madman again. He was grinning madly, he couldn't help it. Katya felt hope ignite in his stomach, he tried to suppress it but soon there was a small grin on his pale blue lips too.

Trixie pulled up to the front door, “wait a sec.” He ran into the hospital and returned pushing a wheelchair which he almost careened in the side of his Jeep in his haste. Katya opened his mouth to protest but closed it with a warning look from Trixie. Trixie brought him into the lobby, pressing Kat’s phone into his hand, “call your Mum while I park the car.”

Trixie rushed away, practically skipping and humming to himself. Katya looked at his phone for a minute before tucking it into his pocket. He had to make sure this was real, he couldn't bear being any more of a disappointment to her. He was back to being numb, he had apparently successfully squashed that pesky flicker of hope.

“Hi Brian! You made it!” Dr Gilmour rushed over and hugged him, picking up his wrist to check his pulse as if by habit while she looked around. “Let’s get this show on the road, like I said the heart is in the air, should be here in 45 minutes. Where’s Firkus? You ready? How do you feel? When was the last time you ate and how much?” Her questions toppled out in her excitement, she had gotten attached to “the Brians" as she called them, she practically bounced in excitement. They were such a lovely couple and she had fought hard on behalf of Katya. He was a talented man that made a mistake and it shouldn't cost him his life.

“He’s parking the car, one bite of lasagne about an hour ago because Firkus was giving me his puppy dog eyes and before that a boiled egg, ½ a piece of toast and ensure this morning at around 10. Haven’t had much appetite. So there’s really a heart?”

She put a hand on her cocked hip as she rolled her eyes and quipped sarcastically, “no, there’s no heart. This is all an elaborate ruse Brian.” She then did an uncanny impression of the soup guy from Seinfeld, “no heart for you!”

Katya let out a giggle, “aha! I thought so!” Trixie rushed up to them, pulling Katya’s hand into his and swinging them slightly.

“Ok Firkus is here, let’s go get you a new heart Brian!”

“One second, I just have to call my Mum.”

Trixie let out an exasperated sigh, “you didn't believe it was really happening, did you?”

“He didn't. Sceptical, sceptical man!” She tsked with a wink and then checked her beeping cellphone and let out a very nonDoctor-like squeal, “it’ll be here early, in 30 minutes! Let’s goooooo!” She tapped her fingers on the counter until Katya hung up with his Mum and then she grabbed the wheelchair handles and they were off.

-------

“Daddy, why do we celebrate two Christmases?” A tiny girl in a scarlet velvet gown crawled into Trixie’s lap. He chuckled at her and put his guitar down as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

“Well, 6 years ago and 2 years ago, miracles happened on November 4th.”

“Oh really? What?” She bounced on his knee in her excitement, this story never got old to her.

“Well 6 years ago, a man in Florida unfortunately died, but he gave the ultimate gift by signing an organ donor card. Your Papa was really, really sick.”

“It was his heart, right?” She said seriously, her brown eyes wide. She pointed one chubby finger to the center of her chest. A wide pink scar was barely visible, peeking out of the top of her dress.

“Mmhmm, exactly right Barbara.”

“So Papa got a new heart right?”

“You know that the answer is yes.”

“What happened 2 years ago?” She asked with a twinkle in her eye.

“Oh it was very exciting! We got a new houseplant! That fern over there!” He laughed at her look of indignation.

“Daddyyyy!” Barbara whined and pouted, “tell the story right!”

“Oh ok! If I must,” he sighed in mock exasperation and then continued, “your Papa was feeling sick, his new heart was being grumpy so doctor Gilmour,”

“God-mommy Olive?”

He nodded into her hair and kissed the top of her head, “Yes God-mommy Olive, do you want to tell the story?”

“Noooo! I’ll be good, I promise!” She said seriously then squealed when Katya picked her up and tossed her in the air once before putting her down between them, she climbed up and he cradled her on his lap, Trixie scooched closer and put an arm around him.

“The Christmas-ish story? Again?”

“Mmhmm.”

“So I was sick,” Katya continued, “anddoctor Olive decided I should be in the hospital for a few days for some medicine. We were at the heart institute and when I was feeling a bit better, we went for a walk around the hall and noticed a teeny little 4 year old girl.”

“Me right?”

“Yes you! You were so small.”

“You were pretty sick,” Trixie took over the story like he did every night, “we found out later that you had been in and out of the hospital a lot and we felt sad that you were all alone. We didn't know where your Mommy and Dad were so we’d sneak in and sit with you and talk to you, sometimes I would sing to you. Then we found out that your Mommy and Dad were very young when they had you and too afraid to hurt you because they loved you so much so we snuck in in the night and stole you and ran fast!”

“Silly Daddy!! Then doctor Mark fixed up my heart and you adopted me, right?” She let out a huge yawn and snuggled in deeper, blinking up at them sleepily. She didn't need them to nod, she knew the story and had asked to hear it millions of times. “I’m glad,” she muttered as her long-lashed eyes fluttered shut.

Katya leaned over to Trixie and gave him a kiss, “Merry Christmas-ish dear.”

“Merry Christmas-ish honey, oh honey.” Trixie said with a giggle.

Katya sighed happily and thought ‘we started new traditions and we’ve made our own family because of it’ his newish-to-him heart filled with gratefulness and relief as he looked down at Barbara adoringly, 'I didn't destroy anyone.’

(hope the end wasn't to floofy!)

Dear beloved reader,

Thanks for reading my story! I hope you liked it and it just broke your heart a tiny bit but the ending glued it back together. Whether you liked it or hated it and want me to die in a fiery plane crash, feel free to send me feedback! Please?

On a serious note, please consider becoming an Organ Donor, it can even be put on your licence (or health card in Canada) if you think your family would disagree. It really is the ultimate gift and you can't take it with you. I, myself, am a tissue donor recipient, I am very grateful that it was an available option for my parents. (I was like 4 when we started to age 7)

Organ donation is also close to my heart as my Godbrother and very best friend, Jeremy, died when I was 12 while waiting for a heart. He was only 8.

I know it's a hard decision and I know some religions prohibit it, I would just be glad if this makes at least one person think about it.

Love and Glitter,

Remény

[nctcricus]

Dear Reggie, are you still drinking heavily? You need to stop because it will lead you to the doom. You always tell me to eat more and stop drinking coffee for it makes me jitter, and yet you are drinking so much. Would you listen to me as much as you listen to Ronnie? Of course not, but what do you see me as when you met me at my doorstep? Am I only a doll, no emotion and no feeling? Tell me your love for me, in your honest words. Yours, Frances

Sitting there sunken with the quarter’s repose, and a piece of blank paper – her letters in the lock had always been a piece of highlight in his life while he’d been away. Now as she had,

 perhaps they’d bring the same sort of comfort. 

As if she hadn’t left in the first place. 

He sniffed, still hovering the ballpoint where it was ….and put the point of the pen to touch this time to the paper more like he meant it…. 

Purposed, 

My beloved Frances, 

Not a day goes by I don’t think of you. The days that I dream of you are the only days I feel myself any more. When I can’t put into words how much I miss you…. it’s far too painful to try…

You’ll be relieved to know I’ve cut back a bit since last time we spoke– but disappointed as I’ve also landed myself back in prison. This time, for a little while. I wont be making Christmas this year. 

It brings a smile to my face thinking of what you might want this year, what I could get you. How beautiful you’d still be underneath a soft snow in Leicester Square . I still remember the first present I ever bought you and in recent days considering I’ve thought of having a new bear delivered to you where you now rest.  

But delivering it in person was what made it most special.  I know I haven’t been there to see you since i left you those pink roses.  I fantasize every day about seeing you again. (long pause)  

I’ve tried to, You asked me to remember you Frances…. to tell you how much I love you, the thought of you gone consumes me most days…life isn’t the same without you in this world my darling, without Ron. 

I hope when I see you again, angel as you are standing with God, you won’t hold what I’ve done against me and can forgive me one day.  

The thought of seeing your beautiful eyes again in mine, your bright smile, if only for a moment brings me great comfort where I sit in the obsidian of this world without your light in it. 

IF 

If I could climb upon a passing cloud

that would drift your way, 

I would not ask for a more beautiful day. 

Perhaps I would pass a rainbow, 

With Nature’s Colours so beautifully aglow, 

If you were there at the Journey’s End, 

I would know 

It was the beginning and not the End. 

Yours eternally,

All my love xx your Reggie