#hope you all enjoy my little take on it

[ooachilliaoo]

The Rose

He was thumbing the flower again.

Not his intention, but his thoughts had been drifting while at camp, and before he’d even really thought about it, he’d found his fingers gliding over the delicate petals. Of course, there were no prizes for guessing what – or rather, who - his thoughts had drifted to in that moment.

(In most moments, really.)

He probably shouldn’t be thinking about her. Certainly not as much as he did. He should be thinking about the blight, or how they were going to beat Loghain, or Eamon. Yet, somehow, in those quiet evenings at camp, he found himself idly thumbing a rose that he’d picked on an impulse that he still didn’t fully understand, and thinking about her.

She perplexed him.

He had been so worried about telling her who he really was. Dreading each step that had brought them closer to Redcliffe. Knowing that once they arrived, he would have to tell her, and that the longer he waited, the worse it would be. Yet, he’d been utterly unable to tell her before he’d absolutely had to.

It was strange. Not once had he hesitated to share anything else with her. But that… that had sat in his heart like a lead weight, growing heavier with every step.

He just…  hadn’t wanted anything to change. Hadn’t wanted her to treat him differently because of it.

People had always treated him differently because of it, and she was a noble. Granted, she was a noble unlike any other he had met, but she was still a noble. He didn’t think that he could stand it if she suddenly started deferring to him just because that’s what she’d been raised to do. The thought alone was far too horrible to contemplate.

But – when he finally had told her – she hadn’t done that at all. In fact, she’d joked with him. The way they always did. And while, yes, there had been something in her eyes that might have been hurt, and, yes, she had, quietly and factually, pointed out that with Cailan dead, he was technically the last of the royal line – a fact that he hadn’t even considered before that moment – but… she hadn’t changed how she treated him one bit. Not then and not now.

Neither had she pushed him.

She could have. It would have been easy for her to use their friendship to push him towards the throne, and then use him to exact revenge on the bastard who had murdered her entire family. He wasn’t even sure that he’d blame her for it if she did. But she hadn’t, and he knew she wouldn’t.

She wasn’t like that.

Read the Rest on AO3

[nekrosmos]

May I offer you some NikPrice doodles in these trying times

[cosmocosmonaut]

this one goes out to you stanley parable fans in the back

[ittyybittybaker]

To celebrate Neil's birthday, here's a time-period accurate emo/pop punk love song mix I made inspired by this post by @wuzeio (featuring only songs released in 2007 or earlier)

1. Ocean Avenue - Yellowcard | 2. crushcrushcrush - Paramore | 3. I'm Not Okay (I Promise) - My Chemical Romance | 4. My Bloody Valentine - Good Charlotte | 5. Just Tonight - Jimmy Eat World | 6. Count 'em One, Two, Three - The Maine | 7. Of All The Gin Joints In All The World - Fall Out Boy | 8. I'd Do Anything - Simple Plan | 9. First Date - blink-182 | 10. Give Me Anything - The Maine | 11. The Promise - New Found Glory | 12. G.I.N.A.S.F.S. - Fall Out Boy | 13. Work - Jimmy Eat World | 14. Only One - Yellowcard | 15. Until The Day I Die - Story Of The Year | 16. Bang The Doldrums - Fall Out Boy | 17. MakeDamnSure - Taking Back Sunday | 18. Demolition Lovers - My Chemical Romance

[puppyeared]

i feel like im not making any sense but does anyone else feel like there are stories that let u run with them and ones that spell everything out for you

[eating-figs-here]

Oh my stars I need to gnaw on bones and perish in the woods because. Because some people believe Wanderer/Scaramouche has gone through an entire redemption arc. No!! He is at the beginning. He is taking his first steps forward!!! He is STICKING with the Good Guys (TM) because it's the most optimal thing to do!! It's not out of character, he knows how to play the cards he's been dealt! And y'know, overtime, he should begin to grow to care for the people of Sumeru and the region itself!!! Like that's the point!!!! He isn't there yet!!!!!! He isn't supposed to be a good guy yet!!! The reason this "redemption arc" feels "unsatisfying" is because he isn't a fully converted good guy yet!!!! Aaaaaaaa!! :(

I have my thoughts below- and uh, it's a bit long

And to those saying Hoyo should've killed him off? Please, I do want to hear why you believe that killing off Scaramouche would've been more impactful than keeping him alive. I, personally, believe that killing him off would be a disservice to what the story has been trying to get across as Sumeru's version of wisdom.

And to explain what I believe the story has been trying to get across about wisdom: Wisdom is, to Sumeru, the celebration of individuality interwoven with the celebration of community. Greater Lord Rukkhadevata says that dreams are the fruit of human wisdom, and dreams are reflections of a person's raw joys, anxieties, sorrows, and examples of the bottomless creativity the mind produces. Those combined dreams power the Akasha, which helped Rukkhadevata repel forbidden knowledge and is considered an incredible piece of technology in Teyvat. (That's a lot of weight and power they're putting into dreams!!)

Wanna see another example of how starkly different individuals come together to beat an imposing foe? LITERALLY THE SUMERU CAST. Wonder why when you played throughout the Sumeru quest line it felt a tad bit like found family?? Because that's the point!! The narrative spends time fleshing out the bonds between characters, whether old or new! We see characters like Cyno, Dehya, and Alhaitham grow to trust one another despite their tense start! We see previously established relationships like Dehya and Dunyarzad or Tighnari and Cyno! They all get closer to the Traveler as well! It is INTENTIONAL!!

Okay, now back to this puppet, Scaramouche is someone who has consistently had his own personhood denied, with his right to exist as an individual played with. His own perceived abandonment from Ei and the Fatui orchestrating the destruction of his only support group (the people of Tatarasuna) in order to be used for their own gain hammers that point home. He rejects himself by ignoring his own humanity in favor of becoming something he THINKS he's supposed to be! The Harbingers do not trust one another, and they are ready to stab their colleagues in the back from their own gain. (Which he does!! What sense of community here?? None!!)

Do you see? Scaramouche, in this state, is the antithesis of Sumeru's wisdom. Which is precisely why he fails. He fails and he falls due to the wisdom of the people of Sumeru and the joint efforts of the Sumeru cast. He, a shattered puppet once more, is forced to reckon with the fact that who he believes he should be is not who he is. And to make that realization have meaning, he must live.

There is a reason why the nation of wisdom is also the nation of dendro. To grow, adapt, and change are its core principles. So why wouldn't the Dendro Archon extend her hand to someone denied what she had been recently given- support, companionship, community. Wouldn't it be much more impactful to see a sickly sapling turn into a tree rather than letting it die? With Wanderer, we will (eventually) see the harvest of Sumeru's ideals. From rocky start to the nebulous finish, Wanderer will embody the adaptation and growth that marks Sumeru's wisdom as he steadily grows into his own individual- with many characters we know accompanying him on that journey.

I dunno how else to put this, I literally just think that having a character actively being shaped by what makes Sumeru.. Sumeru after a total rejection of it is neat. Because.. Y'know. Plants? Nurturing and growing?? I am being SO real I do not think narratively cutting off a character's ability to grow would be Sumeru's jam. Sorry for this mess of a rant, I hope my thoughts got through.. and this isn't even talking about the nuances of other characters (especially Nahida!!) but I am. Tired. So tired :')

[malarkgirlypop]

MEDIC! Part 42 (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC)

Fucking hell im sobbing, this is it, the last chapter! Thank you everyone for sticking along with me you are all amazing! I'm so sad this is finished, I feel kinda lost without Em and Don. I'm so sad but also wow I wrote and finished a whole story that's impressive for me. LOVE YOU ALL!!!

For the last time ever, this is based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, no hate to anyone involved.

Tag list: @imusicaddict, @b00ks1ut, @mstiemountainhop, @awaterfalls, @lovememadly92, @lucyfromtheoldhouse, @blueberry-ovaries, @next-autopsy, @saintmalosunsets, @anaso12 anyone else please let me know.

Time stood still for a split second before the clock ticked forward again. I stood exactly where I had left, my items I had dropped when I was struggling to free myself from the shimmer still laid perfectly where they had landed many months ago. 

I whipped around but all that greeted me was the dark street. 

No shimmer. 

No Don. 

It was as if I was on autopilot, I gathered my belongings into my arms and made my way back to my apartment. I fumbled with my keys before slotting them into the lock and twisting open the door. 

I placed my keys down on the bench with the rest of my belongings before trudging to the bathroom. There in the mirror stood a girl I hardly recognised. 

Her hair was windswept and unkempt, her face was blotchy and red, she wore an army uniform from the 40’s. 

She was out of place and lost. 

Shedding my clothes I stepped into the shower. Unlike before I was more aware of the damage on my skin. Cuts and bruises scattered my arms and legs. Scars and faded injuries covered me from head to toe. The last time I was in this shower I had been a different person. 

I washed myself until my skin turned red from the heat of the water and the scrubbing from my hands. 

Walking to my room, I slumped down in my bed and shut my eyes wishing to never wake again. 

—------------------------------------

The months flew by, I did my best to heal what was broken. I had promised myself that when I retired I would live life to the fullest, if not for me, for Don. 

I threw myself back into my studies, working hard towards my degree. It seemed to be the only thing that could distract me. I also went to therapy, I didn’t speak about the war I had lived through, it would’ve been too hard to explain, also maybe slightly crazy. 

We spoke mostly about the attack that had happened the night before I had left, it impacted me in more ways than I thought, it had closed me off to everyone again. 

My therapist encouraged me to form more bonds and have people in my life who I could trust. But it felt wrong trying to find people to fill the void of the ones I had left behind. So I kept to myself. 

I had tried my hardest to forget and move forward, I didn’t want to linger on the what if’s but the urge was too strong. I would spend weeks in the library scouring World War II books and reports, trying to find the names of the men I had lost. 

But the odd thing was that there was always a 101st Airborne, always an Easy company, but never the names of the men I had served with. 

They appeared to take the same course of action, the events that happened to us, had happened to them. But the men pictured and named were not my Easy men. 

It drove me to the point of insanity. I rushed home and dug all of the things I had brought back with me from the back of my closet. Just to ensure that it had happened, that I didn’t just imagine it all. 

Sitting on the floor surrounded by the items I had stowed away. My uniform, medic bag and phone all were proof that it was real. 

The medic bag sat unopened. I hadn’t been through it at all since I had arrived back. I sat gnawing on my lip, did I open it or not? 

“Fuck it.” I muttered, leaning forward and unbuckling the clasps that held it shut. I pulled it closer, sitting the bag on my lap. 

My fingers brushed over an unfamiliar material, I thought I knew exactly what I had brought back but this felt different. I hastily dragged the item from the bag. 

A gasp left my lips and tears almost immediately streaked down my face. My thumb brushed over the metal, Donald G. Malarkey. It was his dog tag. He had somehow snuck it into my bag and didn’t tell me. 

I could feel rough metal on the other side of the smooth metal. I flipped it over to find, ‘My Love, forever’. The words had been scratched into the back of the tag, Don had done it. I knew his hand writing anywhere. 

Clutching the thin piece of metal to my chest I rocked myself back and forward as I sobbed. It was the closest I was ever going to feel to him ever again. The thought that he wore this so close to his heart for all the time we had been together made me cry even harder. 

I upturned the bag letting the contents spill onto the floor, I rummaged through the belongings like a mad woman. 

Was there anything else he had put in?  

A paper I didn’t recognise was hidden under bandages, I hastily pushed everything else aside grabbing the paper as if it was going to disappear.  

I shook as I stroked my fingers along the unopened parchment that had been folded in half. His scrawly handwriting grace the blank paper. 

‘To Em.’

A shaky breath left my lips as I slowly unfolded the letter. My heart smashed against my ribcage but it felt nice to feel again, even if it was just pain. I had been so numb on autopilot. I couldn’t wait anymore, I needed to know what he had written. 

 My beloved Em,

I don’t know when you are reading this, but I hope that you are well. Know that I miss you dearly, and that I think of you always. 

I write this now after you had left to go and say your goodbyes. 

It took me a while to understand, but I do now. I know you inside and out, I know you as kind and gentle. You only want to share your love and happiness. 

You made the brave decision to give up everything so that we might have a chance to live and be free. You have made a sacrifice I never think I could do, and for that I admire you dearly, Em. You’re so courageous, your heart is unshakable. 

That is why I love you. Your soul is pure and good. I love your being and essence and everything that makes you, you. 

I love the way your curls fall into your face when you laugh, and the way your eyes crinkle at the sides when you smile. I will miss the sound of your melodic voice, and soft lips. I’ll miss the way you tell stories and the hugs you give. I miss you even now, when I know you’re only mere metres away. 

There will not be a day that will go by that you won’t be on my mind. Sleeping or awake you will forever be at the forefront of my thoughts. When I am sad, happy, excited, depressed, lonely, or content I wish to only share my thoughts with you. I will never not talk about you, your name will forever be on my lips.   

I hope you have found my small gift, and that you hold it close to your heart and think of me. 

Know that I am well Em. 

I am content with your decision. I will live for you. 

I hope you do the same, I hope you reach all of your dreams. 

There’s a quote I love, “missing someone is your heart’s way of telling you that you love them.” 

I miss you more than life itself, so I’ll love you for infinity. May my love for you reach you in your time now and you feel me wrapping myself around you now. I wish I had a photo of you, it scares me that I might forget your face. 

But the men and I will keep you alive in our memories, I will share every story I have of you. I will go home and tell everyone that I was going to be wed to the most beautiful girl in the land but she made a decision that let us be here today, and in turn she couldn’t stay.  

Please Em, my only wish is for you to be happy. Surround yourself with people who love you like we loved you. I need to know that you are being loved and cared for.

I don’t want to finish this letter, I wish I could write you pages and pages and fill them with the love I have for you, but alas there are not enough words in the universe that could perfectly summarise my feelings for you. But I will leave you with this poem.

I will love you as long as the sun burns in the sky,

As long as the moon shines its light into the dark night, 

Until the raging blue oceans become calm and run dry. 

I will love you until the end of time. 

With all my love, I hope to find you again. I will wait for you in every lifetime. 

Donald Malarkey, your one true love now and forever. 

The sobs that left my mouth were short and sharp as I struggled to intake air. My tears landed on the paper as I clutched it to my chest. I had read the words over and over again, I could hear his voice in the writing. 

After my sobs had subsided I continued to search through the contents of the bag. A flash of metal caught my attention. A dry chuckle left my throat, Speirs’ lighter lay amongst my belongings. His initials were carved into the metal, it didn’t come with a note, but the act alone was heartbreaking. It was Ron’s trusty lighter, one that he didn’t part with easily, but still he had slipped it into my bag for me to have to remember him by. 

I woke up the next morning on the floor of my room surrounded by memories. I slipped Don’s tag around my neck and tucked it into my shirt. Just when I was losing faith they had given me the motivation to live again. 

So I did just that. I opened myself up again, I graduated and started a new job as a full time nurse. I did as they had asked and surrounded myself with people who loved and cared for me. But no one could ever take Don’s place, that part of my heart was tightly locked which he only had the key to. 

A year passed and the hurt lessened. Never did they leave my thoughts, the amount of times I went to share stories only to bite my tongue. But I wrote them all down in my diary to ensure that the memories I had of them were never forgotten. 

—--------------------------------

“Hey Em, patient in room 12 is wanting to speak to you.” Izzy, the nurse I had befriended when I had started, peered her head into the nurses office. 

“Sure.” I smiled brightly at her, getting up from the notes I was finishing. I made my way to the room, assisting the patient to unhook from the fluids they were getting so that they could go to the toilet. 

“Em!” I heard from behind me. I sat the patient back down on their bed as we had made our way back from the bathroom. 

“Yeah?” I turned to see an excitable Izzy. 

“The girls and I were going to go out for dinner tonight. Come!” It was a Friday for the group and  everyone seemed to be very thrilled for the weekend. 

“Um…” I teasingly thought about the offer. The brunette didn’t let me think long, rushing into the room to slap me on the shoulder. 

“You’re coming!” She tugged gently at my arm. 

“Says who?” I wound her up more. I had befriended her as she had reminded me of George. She was bright and funny, always with a big smile on her face. We had both started at the same time and bonded over being ‘new and dumb’, we joked. It was easy to make friends with her, it was as if they had known each other in a past life. 

“Emily Lane!” She full named me, causing me to giggle. 

“Shall I pick you up?” I asked as I sauntered away. 

“AHHHH!” Izzy squealed in delight, running after me to pounce on my back. “We are going to have so much fun!” 

I never picked up Izzy, she had followed me home. Demanding we got ready together. I watched her dance around the room singing into the hairbrush she had found lying around. She looked insane having half of her eye makeup on as she sung poorly into the makeshift microphone. 

“Thank you, thank you.” Izzy bowed to the non-existent crowd taking in her applause. 

We finished our makeup, mucking around wasting time we didn’t have doing a fashion show, which was basically Izzy prancing around like an idiot and me curled over in hysterics. 

“If you keep going not only are we going to be so late, my makeup is going to be ruined!” I chucked a pillow from the couch at her head. 

Finally we made it to dinner only ten minutes late. We shared good food and stories around the table. I smiled, glancing around the table at the people who were in my life. Don would’ve been proud of me. 

Izzy squeezed my hand from under the table as she lent her head on my shoulder. “I have a surprise and you can’t say no.” 

I pretended to be mad at her but the smile stuck to my lips as she fluttered her eyelashes at me. 

“What is it?” I asked, a huge grin broke onto her face. 

“Karaoke!” She cheered as did the rest of the table. “You have to come, I’ve invited some of my friends too.” Izzy elbowed me in the side. 

The older nurses with children and earlier bedtimes left, leaving the younger nurses with more energy to do karaoke. Izzy’s friends slowly trickled in joining us in our fun night out. All of them were lovely and so funny. I wiped the tears that leaked from my eyes as Izzy and Lyla sang a duet together, they were so off pitch but that didn’t stop them. 

They plonked down next to me out of breath. “Your turn!” The girls pushed me from my seat. I looked back into the crowd and they smiled excitedly up at me. I picked a random song.  

Stay by Rihanna played out from the speakers. I sang along as the group cheered and whooped. I didn’t care if I sounded bad. I sang loudly as I waved my hand in the air. 

The room door swung open and I lost my words. There in the doorway was a face that I couldn't forget. 

“SING!!” Lyla cheered. But I couldn’t, nothing worked, my mouth hung open and tears filled my eyes. 

I watched Izzy jump up from her seat and dragged the person into the room. 

“Em!” She ran towards me with the person in tow. “This is my friend, Don.” 

It was him, head to toe, he looked exactly like my Don. 

“Pleased to meet you, Izzy has told me a lot about you.” The man stuck out his hand for me to shake but I was still so frazzled. His voice was exactly the same. I blinked, pinching my leg to make sure I wasn’t in some weird dream. 

“Are you alright, you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” The modern Don tilted his head in concern. 

“I’m fine.” I uttered out in shock, I politely shook his hand, almost melting at his touch. It was the same. Had he come back to me? 

“Have we met before? You just seem familiar.” He asked. Izzy stood between us as we stared at with a confused look on her face. 

“I’ll leave you guys to it.” She departed the conversation, leaving us staring at each other with our hands still connected.   

“Do you want to come to the bar with me? It's a bit loud here.” He asked, never taking his hand from mine. I nodded, my mouth still hung open. 

We left the small karaoke room we occupied and made our way back over to the main bar. 

“So do we know each other?” Don asked again. 

“No we don’t.” I shook my head. 

“Well I want to change that.” His smile grew wide as he stepped closer to me. “I don’t know why but you feel important.” 

And at the moment I knew everything was going to be ok. 

Because he had found me again.

Just like he had promised. 

---------------------------------------------------

THE END!

[oneluckydragon]

✨🌸 Sunshine on your skin, flowers in my soul 🌸✨

🌊🫧Summary → In the midst of his reconciliation with Team Wish, Dusknoir begins coughing up flowers. This unfortunate brand of bad luck should be a cosmic joke. A spiteful punishment that the world has brought down on him out of malice, out of vengeance for his past deeds. A cruel, agonizing curse manifested with the single unjustified purpose of preventing him from realizing happiness, ever seeking redemption, ever righting his multitudes of wrongs and moving on with his life. But that's not true, and he knows it deep down. Knows it in the very core of his soul like the flood of petals building in this throat.

This is his fault because he is a coward, and that's all he has ever been. A backstabbing, lonely coward.

And now he is going to die because of it.

[AO3]

[CH. I -- Word Count -- 13,290]

🌒💫 Return → the act of going back to a place, person, or memory

[CH. II -- TBA]

[b4kuch1n]

digital ink comm round 2 done! for @trucbiduleschouettes, Alis, Sygdom, A. MG, @bakugames , F. Thorell, and Grumo.

With this round I've gotten to a decent place buffer-wise and with lunar new year prep, thank you very much to everyone who's commissioned me so far! I want to figure out something for the global strike however, so I won't be reopening digital ink comms until after this week. please stay tuned for that!

[wickmitz]

what do you think mitzi’s type in men is?

hmm, this is a fun little ask! especially since her love interests, on a surface level, couldn’t be more different. we have :

zib : former long term boyfriend but not quite … they were very loose with labels, as we know from outside information and the way zib lives life in general. but despite this, whatever feelings fostered between them were intense ; enough so for him to stick around years later, resigned to a chained down lifestyle simply because he doesn’t want to leave mitzi. he’s very loyal in that sense! even if it’s not a conventional type of loyalty. we know that before bitterness seeped inbetween their bond that zib took good care of her, while also being a complete mess of a person ; someone perpetually scared whenever physical conflict is concerned and being a musically inclined man who very much treats himself as a free spirit, with a morbid philosophy and feel towards life. he’s got a major tortured artist aesthetic!! is a little gripped by melancholy and nostalgia … zib is a lot of things, and ambitious is surprisingly one of the many puzzle pieces that make up dorian zibowski.

atlas : ruthless gangster, has an eerie presence that frightens even the people closest to him. he is prone to a more quiet disposition ; never speaking and always a blot of unremarkable grey. but he is an opportunist! someone who can manage a business and take advantage of shortcuts and loopholes to become even more successful … basically he is wealthy and uses his assets well. but all of this is done with a manner of distance, leaving even those closest to him never having the full picture of who he was. it’s also worth noting that mitzi and him had eventual problems, which caused her to seperate. also perhaps has a heart of some kind, but whatever love he possesses is hidden under layers of blood and mystery.

wick : well-to-do bore, and i say this with all the love in the world for wick! but compared to previous paramours he’s rather clean and talkative … there is a constant earnestness to him that bleeds out, an honesty and a more conventional sort of kindness. he doesn’t hide behind smoke and mirrors and there’s never really a front he puts up around mitzi -- or his investors for that matter, hence why he’s treated as an ‘outsider’ so to speak. he is an alcoholic who loathes the details of his job but is more than passionate about the job itself and makes this everyone’s problem … he is a little helpless, in the sense he’d die without someone there to make sure he functions … and is, like zib, perpetually afraid of conflict. can be a little wishywashy and can come across as uncaring due to his cheeky tone … but he’s loyal and caring, with a hobby for the unusual ( bugs and rocks lol ) as well as being able to look past the gossip mill and see the actual mitzi may as he knows her, someone who’s going through a rough time and is either too kind or classy to be a brutal killer. he is hypocritical, a little snobby, and rather forward with mitzi too. kind of a flirt when he wants to be!

something that immediately stands out to me when looking at this lineup is that mitzi doesn’t enjoy a violent man. i don’t think she loathes someone who can so brutally or clinically remove others from this earth, but if she were to go for someone they’d usually be sweeter in a sense. it meshes well with her old personality and kinder heart, perhaps brings it out in her, and that sort of levity and breeziness is more enjoyable than, say, being fully aware of the dangers that lurk around every corner because the man you’re beside is prone to bringing it. she also enjoys more talkative types, someone who’s less quiet and demure and serious, and is keen on her men having a hobby they care deeply for ; some sort of long term goal to work towards doesn’t hurt either. and because of some scenes in the comic, i’m a firm believer that mitzi wants someone who can make her smile or laugh with ease, whether because they’re ridiculous by nature or genuinely funny! she has a sort of funny bone herself, enamored with gallow’s humor and darker jokes, so having someone who either a.) reacts hilariously in the face of her jokes or b.) who can return that energy with teasing or their own brand of silly is desirable. everyone could use a good laugh or two, a sense of joy injected into the bustling life they all live, and this all ties back to mitzi being more drawn towards the less stuffy types of men.

so atlas seems to be an outlier when it comes to her type in many ways, hence the later problems they apparently had in their relationship even if she did love him dearly. but, of course, atlas did have something very appealing to her that zib had failed to give, which she rather fondly recalls in the comic page vestige. whether zib likes acknowledging it or not, mitzi wasn’t as gungho about their normad life as he was … or, at the very least, when she lived another life besides that one, she realized she had a preference! and atlas gave her that path, that knowledge that she wanted something else, and seemingly for the very first time in her life … she felt like a proper lady, a feeling that clearly meant a lot to her. it wasn’t just the dresses or the wealth, it was the constant eye of atlas who could have any dame he wanted, but fancied her his wife regardless. it was having someone so respectable looking, dressed well and groomed well, being able to see her as something other than a sweating, exposed girl in a bawdy dress. atlas’s seemingly polite treatment towards mitzi was enough to garner her affections in spite of everything else, so i think she enjoys that now in others, ; folks who treat her as though she’s a woman in high society, men who don’t gawk at her or make lewd remarks immediately … she probably prefers the courting process now and the quaint dates ( that she doesn’t pay for, mind you ) that come along with it. she just -- likes mutual respect, i think. and who doesn’t? she’s been through a lot to get to where she is now, even if it’s a bad predicament, and she’d like for that to amount to something. some sort of acknowledgment, some kind of recognition.

however, it’s worth mentioning that her views on romance and all that it entails have been warped since the death of her husband. such a loss would change how anyone approaches their dating life, if they were to even have one afterwards … after all, mitzi’s whole problem is that she doesn’t want to move on from atlas and has thus completely romanticized him in her head, to the point that she earnestly believes she’ll be miserable forever without his presence. any problems she had with atlas have long since been erased by her tortured mind, leaving her with a profound misery she’s wallowing in. i think she believes herself as incapble of romantic or sexual inclinations nowdays, leading her to view the advances made towards wick as a necessary ‘evil’ for the sake of atlas may and little else -- when she genuinely does like sedgewick to a degree, and wouldn’t go on dates or kiss a man unless some part of her honestly wanted to do so. ( i also think she was attracted to wick somewhat even while married to atlas, but that’s besides the point ) so this is all a rather complicated affair! she is vulnerable and weak, is too aware of herself and the criminal underbelly squeezing in closer … add this on top of her still heavily grieving and having no one she feels she can talk to, you have someone who is rather changed. mitzi is so far removed from herself and who she truly is, or was, that there’s no doubt it’s affected her type ; now she’ll settle for anyone if they’ll just help her, and even then she’d be dispassionate if romantic entanglement of any kind was involved in that relationship. it’s not something she wants right now, and honestly, it all seems scary and daunting … besides atlas, zib was the only other man she’s ever loved enough to stay around for, so she’s never faced a loss like this before. has kept zib throughout all the turmoil and changes -- so this is, as far as we know, her first major loss where it concerns matters of the heart. it’s not shocking she’s so messed up after it, especially given how fresh it all still is. all of this rambling is to say that mitzi’s a little more stingy and cagey then she used to be about love or sex, and she has a lot of inner battles to face before she can fall for someone and be sure about it. needs to thaw, i think, and she would require patience and understanding from anyone who actually wanted to be with her. mitzi could move on with time ( i do not think she’s the type of widow who’d never date again! ) but it would take quite some time to do so. well, in a world where she’s allowed / is able to heal anyway!

while her type would probably remain the same, i could see her wanting a serious relationship more than she did prior to the death of her husband. has no energy for the loopholes, or the rationalizations, or the fickle nature that can grip someone’s heart. she has matured in a lot of ways since her band days and would take comfort in frivolous things like labels and promises of a future, together, as lovers. while what she had with zib was nice and is cherished alongside the freedom to do as she pleased while on the road with the band, i don’t think she misses it. having the stability and assurance of an actual relationship, with all the hardships that come with it, would be better suited for her. as long as she’s treated like an equal of course! i don’t think she’d be keen on her partner hiding anything from her, even if it’s meant to protect her, due to where that put mitzi when atlas was killed. she’d rather know and be disgusted, or worried, or scared than to not know about something at all until it’s too late … again. naturally patience and compassion would also be of importance, as would the usual things she loves like loyalty and a passion for something in life. and while never required, she’d be happy if the person possessed even a singular musical bone in their body! she still thinks artists, particularly musicans, are sexy after all … likes the angst and brooding that comes with it, the slight flare towards the dramatics … as long as they can handle mitzi in her pitiful entirety and do, to some degree, care deeply for her and will compromise … i think she could find some happiness wherever. bonus points if she can live comfortably for the rest of her days too, lord knows she’s tired of the constant battle of hucking and bargaining.

but yeah! mitzi’s love life is vast and complex and i definitely see her as someone who is more flexible in type than other people are. though there are similarities between her suitors if you really look! anyway, i hope i was able to briefly touch upon this subject because my shipping brain loved your question and kinda went into overdrive, alas. tldr ; her ideal type is wick sable. sorry. once wick learns an instrument the wedding is back on!! … i’m kidding lol. well, mostly <3

[brinkle-brackle]

family

(a/n: SURPRISE FIC!!!!!!!! I wrote this prose poem thingy for a class writing exercise last semester and I'm very proud of it, and I wanted to put something out for bttf day so here it is now :) I hope yall enjoy it!!)

- - - - -

I have a father. A father who I am unsure if I will ever truly know in any real way. His eyes have been fixed to the television every night for as long as I can remember. He blinks in tandem with the static. He is wired, he laughs along with the laugh track. He is wired to cringe and cower beneath and stutter and laugh and laugh and laugh. His laugh, what a shaky, unsure laugh. He laughs and nods and laughs, full of fear. "Yes, sir, of course, sir, I know, sir-- hah, ouch-- yes, sir, I know, sir. You can- can count on me, sir." I ask him why he does what he does. He tells me he can do nothing else.

I have a mother, although I wonder if I ever truly had a mother. I wonder if this was something that developed as I grew up. Maybe it is just that I cannot remember her for who she used to be, or maybe she has always been like this. So jaded, so distant. A haze lies over her eyes, they are glass. Every evening they become glass. Tonight she is two vodkas in.

I have a brother who does not take his life as seriously as he should. Ever since graduating he has sat in the same place, flipping and frying. He does not like effort. He tells me that he is content as he is. A lazy smile, the stench of grease lingering from the spot he stands in even long after he has left. It is everywhere in his room. It creeps out in the wash and corrupts the rest of our clothes and bedsheets. He is turning gray before my eyes. Any longer, and I fear he will become a stone.

I have a sister, and she is miserable. Wanting and yearning, yet stifled. Aware, though. She is aware of what our parents have and what they do not have, and what they do not have she wants for herself. Her heart calls out. It tires of living in such a perpetual state of stillness, it wants to beat. A companion. A dinner for two, caring not if it will work out, just to try. That is what she wants: to try.

I have a family, and they are not you.

I have a girlfriend and she is my world. She is the sun when the clouds get thick and the clouds when the sun gets hot. She is musical laughter and stolen kisses before algebra class. She is planned-out road trips and a walk hand in hand through the town square. She is off-key, loudly-sung ABBA under the stars after leaving the cinema. She is a ride through the neighborhood, a skateboard date to 7-Eleven at twilight. She has been in the front row of every gig I have ever done (exactly two). She sings along when I practice my guitar-- not loudly, not off-key-- but just right. From her heart. She is solace.

She is everything to me, but not in the same way you are.

I sit down at the dinner table. My brother eats, but my sister prefers talking over chewing. I do not blame her, I am not hungry either. My fork becomes a rake on my plate with its slow and languid movements. Our mother speaks of her brother who will be visiting tomorrow. My sister makes a snarky comment, a blunt knife shot from between her teeth. Our mother just laughs, and it is the closest thing to genuinity I have heard from her in a long time, although it is not quite there. She calls out to our father. He does not answer, he has wired himself up to the television the way he does every night. Our mother waits, but he does not answer. He laughs along with the laugh track.

I have a father, and he is not you.

Stomach turning, I retreat to my room for the evening. I play my guitar until I hear my sister snap through the wall for me to quiet down. I prop my guitar against the wall and dial on my landline, and it rings one, two times before you answer. You greet me with warmth in your voice, you ask me how my day was. I tell you. You ask me about algebra, and I make a strange noise. You help me with my homework, we are on the phone for hours as numbers clash and meld together in my mind's eye. It is late now, and you can hear the tiredness in my voice. The math book is long gone, but we are still talking, although there are more pauses in our voices. Tomorrow is my audition, I say. You know, you remember. Come by my garage in the morning before school, you tell me-- I made something for you that might help you out with practicing. You can play without having to worry about waking your family up.

I have a father, and he is not you. But he does not ask me about my day with genuine interest. He does not help me with my algebra homework. He does not tell me his dreams and aspirations, and he does not encourage mine with equal enthusiasm. He does not give me pep talks. He does not get Burger King and offer to watch cheesy older movies with me when I have had a bad day. He does not put his heart into everything he does and include me in all of it. He does not stay on the line with me until I fall asleep, smile on my face and phone resting limply in my hand.

I am not in his world and he is not in mine. But you and I, we are engrained, woven into each others'.

I have a father, and he is not you. But family is not always the thing written in one's blood.

[naamahdarling]

Augh

[baffokitty]

I did it!!! I did a thing!!!

@angelic-demon-dust @livinginadumpster @macaroniandsin @sonofhelios2005 @arrow-jsy @foxyclarisse3 @ichorandseafoam

[venjamyra]

doing my solemn duty to contribute to bunny vash propaganda 🫡

also new pfp (refs below the cut)

[muchmossymess]

Thinking about how the different races think about teeth.

Hylians, sheikah and gerudo are probably just like humans, baby set and then adult set, mby with little fangs bc I just love that aspect of fantasy.

Zora regrow their teeth like sharks, just have them constantly cooking behind the scenes ready to drop in when one breaks off. I want to say they have more than one row in their mouths, and I will bc its freaky and cool.

Gorons have really dense teeth (not bone), bc they need to crunch through stone and jaw strength only takes you so far. But honestly I reckon their teeth are constantly growing, faster as children and slower as they age. The regular wear and tear keeps them generally small but sometimes you need to break off chunks to keep it manageable. (Kinda like nails? If you let them keep growing then they tend to curl and dig into your skin and cause all sorts of problems)

Rito... don't have teeth. Obviously. They maintain their beaks with various surfaces, cuttlefish if you're fancy, but like if it breaks that's pretty much it, either leave it or get a prosthetic. But teeth? That freaks them out. Wdym ur bones are exposed and sometimes fall out how are you okay with this?!?

[magneticflower]

Because I never tire of talking about Kanej---- I decided to make posts about my favorite Kanej scenes and why I like them so much. I was going to do multiple at once but my brain can only focus on one at a time at the moment so I'll just stick with one for now.

Starting off with one from early in Six of Crows---- the iconic 'Inej, darling' scene. Now, we all know it was done sarcastically but that's actually what makes it great? I think this scene does such a good job of showcasing their relationship to each other. It shows how close they are at this point, enough that Inej feels quite comfortable insisting on a please from Kaz Brekker of all people. It's not something that most people would dare to do, but she does.

And yes he sighs, because he is already dealing with the prospect of the stairs and now she's asking him to be something he's not--- polite --- but he concedes anyways--- though that doesn't mean he'll do it nicely or all that politely either. She probably expected as much even when she asked. That's why she doesn't miss a beat in giving a pointed look and a quick retort of her own before leaving without a second glance. It's a perfect showcase of how they banter. Both are clearly comfortable enough to throw pointed jabs and snippy little comments at each other because aside from being partners in crime, they're actually friends too.

And that's something I like about Kanej. They clearly were around each other enough that there was a level of comfort between them that they didn't really have with anyone else and we get to see that pretty early on. I mean, just before that Kaz felt completely comfortable washing in front of her, but more importantly he felt comfortable taking his gloves off in front of her--- something she noted he never did with anyone else.

There's clearly a bond there, and I think that the 'Inej darling, treasure of my heart,' 'have a nice trip down' bit is just a neat little moment of insight into their dynamic because they clearly banter like friends do.