#i have not posted in like a year i know.. so shameful

[wannabepoeticischiya]

as long as I exist, you will always be loved

ao3: as long as I exist, you will always be loved pairing: gojo satoru x f! reader genre: fluff wc: 0.4k status: one shot

Satoru wasn’t embarrassed, he could have declared it to the world, and he would find no shame in doing so. But there was something about him when he would look her in the eye, laugh, and poke her face—tell her that he loves her, like there was no surer thing in the world other than the sentiments he held in his heart.

Ever since they were little, she would notice how Satoru offered her all the extra desserts on the table. It didn't matter if it was the last candy in the bowl, the lone chocolate bar, or the cupcake sitting peacefully just waiting to be eaten.

He offered it all to her.

So, she deduced that he must have not liked sweet things.

But even when it came to two different drinks, he always let her choose first, always. And if she decides that she didn't like her initial choice, he'd take it and give her his. Always.

Perhaps it began on that fateful day when she magically agreed to eat together for the first time. Perhaps Satoru saw that she took the little mochi sitting on the edge of his plate before anything else. Perhaps he picked up on that small thing and never let it go. A cherished memory to last a lifetime so it seems.

The seasons changed, and eventually, she caught on to what he was doing and thought that perhaps he had grown out of his sweet avoidance. So, as they were dining together nearly twenty years into the future, she jokingly offered him the last mont blanc—most certain that he would deny.

But he didn't.

He ate the dessert in two bites flat.

A little startled, she voiced the questions lingering in her head, 'You like sweet things?' and he only smiled (albeit with a little glaze decorating the side of his lips) and said, 'Yeah!' An answer far too riddled with love and contentment to be mistaken as anything else.

So, she asked him, if he liked sweet things so much why was it that he always gave them to her in a heartbeat?

And he said, Because I know you love them, and seeing you happy is worth all the sugar in the world.

Satoru wasn’t embarrassed, he could have declared it to the world, and he would find no shame in doing so.

But there was something about him when he would look her in the eye, laugh, and poke her face—tell her that he loves her, like there was no surer thing in the world other than the sentiments he held in his heart.

All her life she wholeheartedly believed he disliked anything that had sugar in it.

But no.

Turns out he really loved sweet things, chocolates, candies, cakes... you name it.

He just loved her more.

thank you for your support ❤ here's a little nice thing (I sure hope it's nice) for you guys before I inevitably post another soul-crushing one shot

I might laugh at that mongrel Satoru and say that he's a pain but I love him sm 😭

[myceliacrochet]

Reblog if answer tysm!!

Eleven Urgent Campaigns

Hey guys, I know several people are waiting on me right now to make posts for you, and I apologize🩷🩷🩷 I am struggling to get everything done on my to-do list, especially since it is hard for me to get as much done due to disabilities, but rest assured that most of the items on my to-do list are for Palestinians🩷🇵🇸🍉 I made a lot of progress tonight on flyers to distribute in person for several families -- @manal-ghorab3, @sham-moner, Hala, Ayat, and Fatima. I also worked on job applications and my application for government assistance so that I can keep doing this work and so I can have a small amount to donate.

For now, I want to draw attention to several campaigns, each of which are urgent:

🇵🇸 Contact the WHO to ask them to evacuate nine-year-old Mohammed Alchear now for EMERGENCY LIFESAVING TREATMENT instead of in less than two weeks, when the child would be dead. The WHO has the permission of Israel, they just need to move quickly before the child passes.

🇵🇸 Hala and her daughters are starving to death in north Gaza, where all life is being exterminated at an even higher rate than the rest of Gaza. Hala said they are praying that an angel will save them. Hala's campaign is dangerously stagnant and needs extra support because applying for vetting will be a challenge for her due to loss of hope.

🇵🇸 Ayat (26) and her one- and two-year-olds are also starving to death and in serious danger in north Gaza. Like everyone on this list, they desperately need emergency food, provisions, and evacuation.

🇵🇸 Moneer (19) just got out of major surgery, and his family -- who just lost two extended members to a raid -- is struggling to find most of the basic necessities, even clean water.

🇵🇸 Mariam, her little girl, and her baby are stranded in a refugee camp in Syria so dangerous that the organization that ran it, the World Food Programme, no longer brings food. She is trying to keep her head up. Like every Palestinian family I am advocating for, Mariam's family is freezing cold. She has enough food for the end of the month, but not enough cooking fuel, and she needs power.

🇵🇸 Sameer al-Kilani's (21) campaign is dangerously stagnant and he is starving. He needs community support.

🇵🇸 Neveen and her four children feel abandoned and overlooked by the world, and they are getting flooded with icy cold rains.

🇵🇸 Manal and her family of five need medical attention and emergency food, and their campaign needs more consistent support.

*Edit: Her GoFundMe campaign keeps getting shut down, and she just lost all her campaign money for technical reasons. Please help this family gain back the donated money they keep losing!!

🇵🇸 Shorouq, Sameer, and their three kids need the same, and they fear for the coming winter of even worse flooding, freezing, and famine.

I might need to post using this kind of format in the future for time's sake so I can get to everyone... Let's see how this one goes

@erectiledisfigurement @vague-humanoid @plomegranate @rainbowywitch @chronicsheepdeprivation @danielladadasworld @win-rrar @shizukateal @sweetsweethate @hexxeh @heydreamchild @knavewoods @katherinefh @variouscontent @blvvdyindustries @morelinesandscribbles @monstermashpotato @wellsbering @tolbachik @akajustmerry @comrademango @superdragonjpeg-thing @afropiscesism @ihavenotfallenyet @fly-sky-high-09 @remindertoclick @slowbrobutch @insanitysmiles @wirehairwiredstare @everypores @pregnantseinfeld @seeyouguyslater @innovatorbunny @ohlorde @imjustheretotrytohelp @awetistic-things @theinconvenientlifestyle @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @sea-shame @faacethefacts @craigthetourguide @blomstermjuk @mythiedew @operationladybug @fifthnormani @disinfobot @beserkerjewel @hellootoodlesxoxo

[rhysatlas]

another lifetime, another possibility

ship: Jayce & Viktor rating: T warnings: none, does contain spoilers for all of Arcane, especially act 3.

word count: 1.9k summary: They wake up in a world so familiar and so different at once. They're different now, too.

also on ao3.

a/n: This is the first fic I’ve written for them so I hope I did them justice. This is also the first fic I’ve posted publicly in like 3 years so I’m super nervous but!!! I hope you all enjoy it 🩵

They’re back to the beginning, but it’s different.

They’re different.

The area around them is familiar, the flowers around them bright, the presence of nothing and everything around them. 

He’s older now, his body weary from the weight he once carried— he doesn’t have to carry it anymore, he doesn’t carry the weight for them both, not here— and his mind no longer restless, no longer clouded by the guilt and shame that had followed once before. He’s in the body he was in before he was nothing, just a blip in the horizon, a glitch where he shouldn’t have been. 

And his partner, his everything in every existence, is different too. The towering, godlike Herald is gone, having been reverted back to how his body was before, no longer looming and reeking of misguided intentions. It’s Viktor standing before him now, those gold eyes boring into his as they stare at one another, the amber only shining brighter in the sunlight beaming around them. Viktor looks as he did before his illness worsened, before all of the chaos truly began— it was always there, bound to exist in their previous universe, always beneath the surface— and yet, he looks calmer, more at ease than Jayce had ever seen him. 

He’s reminded of when Viktor saved him from that ledge, eyes filled with wonder and amazement, looking at him with that small smile on his lips. 

“I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Viktor.”

Jayce finds himself stepping forward, hands reaching towards his partner, his Viktor, desperate to know if this was real. He needed to believe it was real, just as Viktor always believed in him. 

He always had, hadn’t he? Viktor always believed in Jayce, even when everyone else thought Jayce was mad for suggesting bringing magic into the hands of the people. Even if it wasn’t what they’d expected, Viktor believed in him when no one else would. Just as he had believed in Viktor.

His hand meets the skin of Viktor’s jaw, fingertips gentle and seeking, tracing the sharp angles as if he’d done it over and over again before. Maybe he had, in another lifetime, another possibility. 

Viktor melts into it, a shaky sound leaving his lips as his own hand reaches up to settle against Jayce’s, holding his hand in place as they continue to stare at one another, feeling as though the stars aligned, universes and galaxies finally meeting to form this moment. Time feels like nothing and everything here, they have forever now, in this small plane of existence— it’s theirs alone. Past experiences come flooding to the surface, from every universe, every lifetime. It’s overwhelmingly familiar, like a reminder of what he almost lost, a bad memory from another universe. 

“Jayce,” Viktor says quietly then, and Jayce feels his heart aching. It’s Viktor’s voice, not the Herald’s, not the God he wanted to be. 

He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, moving closer to his partner while cradling Viktor’s face in both palms now, until their foreheads touch once more— a familiar gesture now, intimate and loving, filled with understanding and affection. 

“It was affection that held us together.”

It had always been affection, he knows that now. Jayce had always held love and care for Viktor, and from the way Viktor gazed at him, he held the same for Jayce. They’d always been two sides of the same coin, held by the red string of fate that tied them together. Chaos alone, order as one.

“Viktor,” he breathes, closing his eyes as he listens to Viktor breathing, taking in the warmth of being together again. His partner feels alive, warm and feeling, no longer the cold husk that the Hexcore made him, and it brings tears to his eyes. “Oh, Viktor,” he says again, voice cracking from the waves of emotions hitting him all at once. 

He feels hands on his face now too, gentle brushes of Viktor’s thumbs catching the tears on his cheeks, and it’s then that he can feel Viktor trembling, tears catching on his own hands still holding his partner’s face so tenderly. 

“Jayce,” Viktor says again, while pushing into Jayce, hands now in his hair, dragging him close, allowing Jayce to bury his face against Viktor’s neck. 

He breathes in deep, openly sobbing as his own hands drop from Viktor’s face to hold him close instead, embracing him with the same fierceness Viktor has shown him time and time again. His partner is sobbing alongside him, body shaking so harshly that Jayce fears he’ll collapse if he were to let him go. He won’t, not now, he never would again. 

Eventually they kneel in the flowery fields they’ve found themselves in, unable to stand anymore, clinging to one another. Viktor’s hands trace over the lines of his face, as if memorizing every detail. Jayce does the same, tracing over the sharp edges, the soft details of Viktor’s skin, lingering on the mole by his lips. They seem to be making up for lost time as well as getting used to the changes of themselves. He can feel Viktor’s hands in his hair, carding through it as it’s longer than he’s ever had it, fingers running over his beard, over his cracked lips, only to settle on his shoulders. Jayce’s own hands trace over his partner’s cheekbones, tracing over the mole under his eye, then his fingers tangle in Viktor’s chestnut brown hair— its longer now, the blonde tips present, the only feature Viktor kept from his changes due to the Hexcore.

“I missed you, Viktor,” Jayce tells him as he leans his forehead against his again, listening to the way his partner’s breath hitches at the gesture. “I’m sorry for everything—”

Viktor shakes his head at that, hands cupping Jayce’s face again, holding him so tightly; his eyes urgent, boring into Jayce’s.

“No. Don’t apologize for anything, please. You did what you were driven to do, as you always have,” Viktor tells him, and Jayce closes his eyes, letting the feeling of Viktor’s breath fanning out over his lips warm him to the bone. “I don’t blame you for anything. I never have, Jayce.”

If he had just left things alone, if he hadn’t allowed the Hexcore to consume Viktor, none of this would have happened. No, if Viktor hadn’t found him on that ledge, if he’d actually—

Jayce grits his teeth, stopping the dreaded thoughts before they could fester, before they could ruin the time they have now. 

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he says regardless, eyes opening to catch the golden eyes of Viktor’s.

“I know. I forgive you, Jayce,” the other man says, fingers brushing over the back of his head as he pulls him even closer, their noses brushing now. “I’m sorry too. For going too far… for losing myself.”

A wounded sound leaves Jayce at that, one of his hands reaching down to grasp Viktor’s hand, the very hand that he’d held as they finished what they had started. 

“I knew you were still in there, somewhere. I lost myself too, we lost ourselves,” he whispers, running his fingertips over Viktor’s knuckles. They still needed to have a deeper conversation about everything, they still needed to heal from the trauma they’d been dealt, but Jayce knew it could wait. They had eternity now, they had their forever. “I forgive you too, Viktor.”

Viktor smiles then; it's small, barely there, but it’s Viktor.

Jayce leans in, tilting his head just slightly before he pauses, listening to the hitch in Viktor’s breath. They sit like that for what feels like an eternity, breathing the same air as they cling to one another, waiting for the other to move but too scared to ruin this fragile moment between them.

Viktor is the one who initiates it— Viktor who never reached for him, Viktor who always pushed Jayce away— who leans in and kisses him. A gasp sounds between them and Jayce is almost certain it was from his own lips, but it doesn’t matter, not when Viktor is kissing him. It’s soft at first, hesitant and unsure, until Jayce draws him closer when he wraps his arms around his thinner frame, and Viktor sighs against his lips. It increases in intensity as they cling to one another again, Jayce gripping Viktor’s waist and Viktor’s arms around his neck, holding him so tenderly.

They fall into the grass and flowers below them, Jayce hovering over Viktor when his partner rolls them over, staring down at Viktor with an affectionate light, unable to control himself when Viktor gives him that tiny smile again. He leans into him again, branding Viktor’s lips with his own once more, listening to the way Viktor hums, content and quiet. 

The kisses turn to more, shedding the clothes they’d shown up into their new paradise in, and Jayce finds that he’s losing himself in Viktor, taking in every noise that leaves his lips, savoring every feeling of Viktor’s hands on his skin, unable to control himself when his lips linger on Viktor’s chest— right where he’d been hit by a blast from Jayce’s hammer, the scar a reminder of what transpired and eventually led to this moment. Viktor sighs at the gentle touches Jayce places on his skin, only wanting more and more.

Afterwards, they lay against one another, curled up under the blanket he had given Viktor, the one Viktor seemed to never want to get rid of, just tracing each other in lazy, almost sleepy touches. The sun has started to set, painting them in pinks and oranges, a soft breeze flowing through the valley of the world they’re in.

“It’s going to take some getting used to,” Viktor remarks suddenly, fingers tracing over Jayce’s jaw as if petting Jayce’s beard, a huff leaving him when Jayce turns his head to press kisses against the inside of his wrist. “I think it suits you.”

“Yeah?” he drawls, a dopey smile on his lips as he nuzzles against Viktor’s palm, pressing a soft kiss against his wrist. He catches Viktor’s gaze when he looks back at him, smiling as he tangles his fingers in Viktor’s hair. “I could say the same about your hair.”

Viktor hums, shifting closer to Jayce once more, and Jayce meets him halfway, their lips meeting in a gentle and chaste kiss. 

When they break apart, Viktor lays his head on Jayce’s shoulder, fingers tracing the definitions of his chest, and Jayce continues drawing lazy lines over the pale skin of Viktor’s back, connecting the moles he finds there like constellations. The sky is dark now, the stars vast and endless, yet it brings Jayce nothing but comfort. They were in their own paradise now, their universe. 

“I love you, Viktor,” he murmurs against Viktor’s forehead when he turns his head to gaze down at his partner. “I’ve always loved you,” Jayce continues, cupping Viktor’s jaw as his gaze catches his as Viktor draws back slightly. Viktor’s brows are furrowed, eyes wide with guilt and shame for a moment, before his expression softens. “I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it. But— I love you, Viktor. You’re my partner, my everything, and I wouldn’t change it for anything. If you’ll have me.”

“I love you too, my Jayce,” his partner breathes before surging forward and kissing him again. “You’re telling me now, there’s no need to apologize. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried, I love you too much to let you go. You’re my forever, Jayce.”

Forever. They have forever now, in a world of their own creation. And Jayce feels his heart swell. 

“Forever, huh?” he teases, watching as Viktor smiles again, both chuckling even as tears start to flow from their eyes once more. 

“Forever,” Viktor affirms.

[thelightsandtheroses]

one: florida!!!!

Call It What You Want | Frankie Morales x OFC

Summary: Daisy never expected to move to Florida but recovering from burnout in the sunshine state seems a good enough plan. Years after the death of her estranged half-brother, Tom, she finds herself agreeing to move in with Frankie Morales, Tom’s former army colleague and friend. Falling for her roommate, who is definitely keeping secrets about your brother’s death, may not be the best way to ensure a fresh start, or is it actually what they both needed all along? Chapter Warnings: 18+ blog MDNI, mentions of previous canon death and grief, references to corporate burnout Word Count: 3.7k Notes: Please note I am not from Florida, or even the US, so there’s a degree of creative license here, What I know about firefighting probably comes from 9-1-1, other firefighter shows, or google so please don’t think this is gong to be an accurate depiction of the Florida FD for Frankie. It’s fic, babes, let’s let me be a little self-indulgent. This is a rewrite of my first fic which felt too fast, too angsty and not the story I wanted to tell for a concept I really loved. It’s seen some considerable changes since then while retaining several themes, but I am so excited to share this and particularly this version of Frankie who has been rotting my brain for months and months 🔥 🔥🫠

Series Masterlist | Next. | A03

Palm trees, beaches and viral memes. That’s what I’ve always associated with Florida. It never struck me as a potential place I would make my home. I thought I might vacation there one day perhaps; some time in a distant future when I had a real grown-up life and family and we would go to the theme parks, buy overpriced merchandise and fried food and take cheesy photos before flying or driving home.

It’s funny how things work out though, isn’t it?

I pull into the apartment block with trepidation.

This is the fourteenth apartment I’ve viewed this week. Fourteen. I thought the market back in Chicago was bad but this is a whole new hellscape, or maybe it was easier because I knew more people back then. College roommates turn into post-college roommates and your circle is fully formed. It means you have people when you need to find a new place, there’s a whisper network, friends of friends.

I don’t have that anymore.

I want it though. I miss it.

I think I miss it.

The advert says that this listing is for a single room and the apartment is occupied by a group of young professional women. It’s the best option I’ve come across yet in my browsing of online postings which has taken me through several levels of Dante’s inferno. Facebook is just one above Craigslist in the hierarchy of the internet hellscapes I’ve seen recently.  One guy asked for my shoe size and asked if I routinely wore high heels before I could view the apartment. Safe to say, that one went off the list extremely quickly. It was a shame though - that listing had a double room and balcony, but I think I can see why it’s been listed for over sixty days now.

I haven’t had a roommate since college and this whole process has been a soul-crushing exercise on my already fragile self esteem. I don’t think I can take much more of this.

I take a deep breath. I’ve got this. I will find a room so I can move out of Molly’s and do something, anything with my life. Anything that’s not just existing in this strange purgatory I’ve found myself in. I’m potentially placing too much importance on the apartment here, but it’s a symbol, an omen.

It’s a fresh start. A signal to the universe that I’m here, that I’m doing something.

I feel like everything else I’m hoping and dreaming of can’t even start unless I have an apartment, and I can’t afford my own apartment and start a business so I need to find a roommate.

Maybe this is finally the one.

“It was so bad, Benny,” I say, taking a glug of lukewarm beer. “It was like being in high school over again, but worse. Infinitely worse!”

“Worse?” Benny tilts his head as he asks the question, something that only heightens my association between him and golden retrievers.

“Yes, because I’m not sixteen with a promise it’ll get better when I ‘find my people’ in college. This sucks. What was I thinking? Clearly I wasn’t. Maybe I should have stayed …” I trail off awkwardly.

“You were thinking that Florida is the perfect place to start over, which it is, Daisy,” he replies confidently.

Benny and his brother, Will, have played a considerable part in my move here. They served with my half-brother Tom.

Tom died more than five years ago - I don’t really know much about how it happened, Tom and I weren’t particularly close. There was an age difference, I sometimes felt he didn’t want me as a sister. I was only a reminder of his own parents’ relationship breakdown after all. I wish I could say we had that sibling bond but we didn’t. It’s clear to me his real siblings were the men in his team - he was their brother.

After his death though, Will kept in touch with me. I wondered if he thought he needed to fill a gap from Tom, if there was a sense of responsibility there. Tom never called me though except for birthdays and Christmas. I haven’t told Will that though.

It’s been nice feeling like I have a big brother. The irony isn’t lost on me that I feel this the most once my actual big brother is dead.

Will encouraged me to move down here, as did Molly, Tom’s ex-wife. They said I needed a fresh start and maybe they’re right.

I can’t remember the last time I felt like me. I’m not even sure what that feels like now, who I’m supposed to be and who I am really.

Florida seems a good place for reinvention though, for something new. I’m closer to the beach, to weekends spent with my toes scrunched in the sand as I sip coffee and read books. Days spent with Benny and Will

“Hey Benny,” A voice calls as I hear the front door open.

“We’re in here.“

“You remember Frankie, right?” Benny asks casually. “Tom woulda called him Catfish?”

“Uh, sure.” I don’t but I won’t admit to that. I remember the name vaguely, but that’s all. Tom wasn’t big on the details of his life with me.

“You probably saw him at the wake last,” Benny adds.

Even if it hadn’t been four years ago since I last saw him, all I can remember of Tom’s funeral is a procession of strangers and the continual vibration of my work phone as I stood in a strange graveyard. That whole day was a stark reminder of the distance between us, that my own blood was a ghost to me even when he was alive. It bought me Molly, Tess and Will though.

Frankie walks in. He’s a little older than Benny but younger than Tom was. He’s all dark eyes and curls peeking out through a battered baseball cap; softly tanned skin and that smile … that smile is something. If he could bottle that up and sell it, I’m pretty sure he’d find a captive market.

“Frankie, you remember Daisy, right? She’s moved here,” Benny says. “She’s starting a coffee van.”

“Uh - yeah.” Frankie has no clue who I am, but his efforts to conceal that are admirable. “Now you mention it, Will might have said something about that. You’re uh, staying with Molly for now, right? You were in Boston before?” I nod, wondering what Will has exactly said to Frankie about my move. “A coffee van?”

“Eventually,” I add nervously, “It’s a whole process. So, I’m actually just temping for now while I get things sorted.” I have no idea why I’ve told him that, why I still want to introduce myself based on my career, on my outward accomplishments. I’m almost surprised I haven't tried to find an old business card in my pocket or referred him to my LinkedIn profile where it neatly lists all my employable skills and experience.

 Daisy is highly skilled in project management, board engagement, data analysis  and most of all completely falling apart all of the time, but she makes a mean slide deck. Plus, guess what, she’s open to work!

“Oh, right, cool.”

“Frankie works for the fire department. He’s a firefighter pilot now,” Benny says. “Out here making me look bad.”

“Aw, I keep telling you don’t need my job to do that, Benny.”

Benny laughs heartily and throws a cushion at Frankie who catches it with ease and a raised eyebrow.

“Well, that’s definitely cooler than paperwork and admin.”

“Not really,” Frankie says, “I mean, it’s not really cool if you know what I mean.”

“Oh,” you say with a groan, “that might be the most dad joke I’ve heard.”

“It’s a classic though,” he replies lightly. “You got a soda, Benny?”

“Fridge. Wait, I just had a brilliant idea,” Benny suddenly interjects with a grin. “I mean, I’m a genius.”

“Oh yeah?” Frankie asks, one eyebrow quirking up. “About soda?”

“No, no, no. You need a roommate, right?”

“Yes?” Frankie replies slowly with the seasoned reluctance of someone who knows exactly what Benny’s brilliant ideas usually result in.

“Daze needs a room, you need a solid roommate, voila!” Benny makes a complicated hand gesture and smiles widely.

It seems too simple, too obvious but despite the terrible apartment earlier, my heart races as I wonder what if Benny’s onto something.

“Benny, I’m sure Daisy would -”

“How soon is it available?” I ask.

“Uh, immediately. My last roommate moved in with his boyfriend, which is great for him, but I’ve been struggling to find anyone suitable for it since then.”

“Suitable?” Immediately flashbacks of the weird Craigslist ads come back to me, please don’t say Frankie is going to say something odd. “What do you mean, suitable?” I really hope Frankie isn’t actually the weird shoe size guy from Craigslist.

“I have a kid who stays with me regularly. I need someone I can trust, someone safe to be around him, and someone who’s not going to be a …”

“Frankie wanted to mandate a background check,” Benny interrupts, before raising his hands at Frankie’s expression. “I said I got it! Perhaps, if you interrogated people less though ….”

“I’m not gonna apologise for prioritising my kid.”

“So, do I need a background check to apply then?”

“Nah,” Benny says, “you’re Tom’s sister, right Frankie?”

There’s a comforting weight to his words. The conviction in his voice, the simple answer that takes it for granted that maybe I’m not one of them, but I’m adjacent at least. It feels unfamiliar. I’ve never been Tom’s sister, not to Tom at least.

I feel as though I’m wearing someone else’s skin, another identity, and it’s alien but comforting. It’s an identity I never knew I could wear. One I never even knew was an option.

“You’re actually considering this then?” Frankie asks, eyebrows raised.

“Well, yeah. Benny’s heard all about my nightmare of an apartment hunt so far… unless, I mean. If you don’t want to then that’s fine.”

“Alright Tom’s sister,” Frankie begins with a soft smile.

“Daisy.”

“Daisy. “I’ll send you the info. let me know whether you’re still interested then. No pressure.” His voice is honey smooth, low and there’s something else.

His eyes.

They’re kind. Soulful even.

“I’m interested,” I say without thinking. “I’m definitely interested.”

Of course life isn’t as simple as just being interested in the apartment and one magically falling into my hands. Frankie texts me the information which is sadly towards the top end of my truly pitiful budget but includes a double room, furnishings and the apartment has a balcony which in itself is a big reason enough to say yes. I instantly conjure up a romantic image of me sipping from a steaming mug of coffee in the mornings, watching the sunrise.

It’s farcical. I hate the sunrise, or at least being up at that time. I’m not a morning person at the best of times. 

Frankie says there’s a beach view from the balcony though … if you squint, lean one arm and twist at a very precise angle. It’s something he has advised he doesn’t recommend without exceptional health insurance though so that’s definitely off the table for now. He mentioned it’s close enough that the landlord said it was a coastal view but it’s clearly not really.

Texting him feels so easy - there’s a lightness to the conversation, even as we talk about something as serious as becoming roommates. It’s why I’ve agreed to this - the next step and the one that is now filling me with dread.

The coffee shop we decided to meet at is halfway between his place and Molly’s. I haven’t been here before but I mentally take notes of the roast, of the general ambience. The brownies look amazing - the perfect combination of a fudgy middles and the solid crackly top that immediately calls to me.

It’s a neutral space though, one where we can finally make a decision of am I becoming Frankie’s roommate or not.

I think I want to.

I really can’t take another week of Craigslist -especially after watching that true crime documentary last night.

I twist the empty sugar packet into a knot, only looking up as the doorbell chimes. I see Frankie immediately.

He’s wearing a baseball cap, dark hair curling out from underneath and the Florida FD hoodie he’s wearing looks particularly well worn, comfortable. I can almost imagine how it smells.

No. No. This is a roommate negotiation.

“Hey,” Frankie says as I stand up to greet him. I immediately panic - is this a hug situation, that feels too familiar, but a handshake feels like an awkward callback to my corporate days. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.

“Oh, you already ordered?” Frankie asks.

“Yeah, sorry, I got here a bit early. Overestimated the traffic. I haven’t been here long.” Frankie looks at my almost empty mug of coffee, cocking one eyebrow.

“No worries. Do you mind if I grab a drink though? Want another?”

“Oh no, I’m good, thanks.”

“Okay.”

He walks over to the counter and I sit down and watch him carefully. This is a test really, an opportunity to try and work out his personality further. Does he talk to the barista? Is he cold or insufferable? Is he rude? These are all qualities I should be able quickly establish in just a few moments. Mum always taught me to notice these things on a date, to tease out those basics in the early days. Not that it’s foolproof. Not always at least.

Frankie seems. pleasant though, laughing with the barista but there’s almost a shyness about him. I don’t get it. From how Benny described him - a pilot, a firefighter pilot no less, I would have expected him to be as extroverted as Benny.

Frankie’s a surprise though. There’s a quietness to him, a slow and careful evaluation in each glance, in how he takes in the cafe around us as he sits opposite me. He’s assessing everything too and it occurs to me that as much as I’ve set this meeting up to work out if I can live with him, he’s doing the exact same thing.

The people pleaser in me instantly calls to attention, ready to perform and be perfect, be liked. To succeed. Automatically I straighten my posture, try and remember my very best table manners. I prepare to perform.

“What’s your poison?” I ask, which is a phrase I never use and an immediate sign I need to shift out of performance mode.

“Just an Americano.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t approve?”

“no, I guess it’s fine. I mean, I would personally recommend a pour-over and filter coffee than a watered down espresso. Something like a V60 or a -”

“I see what Benny meant about the coffee truck.”

“I’m not judging!”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, only judging a tiny bit. Mostly I’m rambling. I’m just - I’ve never got the watered down espresso thing.”

“It’s got two extra shots in if that helps,” he confides with a smirk, “I was on shift yesterday.”

“Oh, we could have arranged this for later -”

“It’s fine. The shift wasn’t too bad, even got a few hours sleep!” Frankie empties sugar into his coffee and smiles up at me.

“How did you end up in the FD then? I don’t – I don’t remember it from before.”

Frankie pauses, twisting the empty sugar packet in his hands. The silence holds just long enough I worry I need to change the conversation before he speaks. “A couple of years ago I needed a change. It’s been good, much better than commercial helicopter flights for rich people.”

“Making a difference?”

“Trying to.” A ghost passes over his eyes. I immediately realise the link - Tom. His death. Was that the trigger for Frankie joining the fire department?

“Anyway, the apartment -” Frankie starts, reaching for his phone, “I took some new photos this morning.”

His wallpaper is him with a small boy. His son. I take in the wide toothy smile on his photo, the bright shine in his eyes and the same features I can see in Frankie, accompanied by a head full of brown curls.

“Felix,” Frankie says, a soft smile on his face.

“He looks like you.”

“Poor kid.”

“No, I mean - uh, how old is he?”

“Four and a half. He stays with me on alternate weekends, if I’m off shift, and sometimes in the week if his mom’s working late or something. A lot of it depends on my work patterns but that’s the general rule of thumb.” He wrings his hands together and I wonder what the story is there.

I have limited experience with children to say the least.

I’ve reached that point where half of my friends are parents, sharing photo after photo on their social media and speaking a whole new language. In contrast, the rest of my friends appear still mentally stuck in their early twenties party mindset. I’ve never been sure where I fit in with that; I’m definitely not a huge partier, but that sort of responsibility and commitment has filled me with anxiety. Maybe it’s my choice in friendships, in love.

I try not to think about it too much, the friendships left to dust over, the dates I was too scared to go on. I threw myself into my work instead because it felt safer somehow. I defined myself by my career and made that the only metric that matter.  I poured all of myself into the corporate world for all those years and it turns out I was naive. So naive. I actually thought they cared about me.

It’s hilarious in hindsight. Now I’m in Florida without even a leaving card to commend the efforts I put in. I’m a barely remembered spectre in the place I once thought I was indispensable in. A shameful secret swept under the rug. A never repeated name.

I can’t go back to that world again.

“Are you okay?” Frankie asks, concern creasing his brow. Great, five minutes into talking about becoming roommates and he already clearly thinks I’m disturbed.

“I’m fine, sorry, must have drifted away for a second.”

“Happens to us all,” he says lightly. “So, is that a problem?” Frankie folds his arms and I get the clear sense that he’s annoyed, that I’ve missed an important cue somewhere.

“Is what a problem?” I ask.

“Felix staying at the apartment, because sorry but it’s a non-negotiable”

“No, not at all. No, I just … I drifted away, like I said.”

“Right.”

Great, this is the first apartment that feels reasonable, and Frankie seems like a nice person and I’m wrecking it. Somehow at best, I’m managing to come across as scatty and someone who doesn’t listen, and a child hater at worst.

I need to get out of Molly’s. I need to make Florida work for me.

“I do that sometimes,” I say quietly, “It doesn’t mean I’m not listening, or anything. It’s just … it’s just something that happens. I don’t have a problem at all with Felix or …. it’s your home, Frankie.”

He pauses. “If you take the room, it’s yours too though.”

“And I get why you’re being careful about who takes the room because of that. Look, I can’t promise I won’t secretly judge your coffee choices, or leave coffee grounds everywhere, or watch really terrible TV from time to time, but I …”

“You don’t have to explain. I get it.”

“You do?”

“I do.” Frankie smiles. “So, you’re still interested in the room then? You really wanna do this? I thought Benny might be putting you up to this and I won’t be offended if you don’t want to live with some random guy.”

“Benny keeps reminding me you’re not though, are you?”

Frankie shrugs and looks away, something flashing over his eyes briefly that feels a little haunted.

Since moving back to Florida, I’ve realised that, at least for Benny and Will, Tom’s death is still an open wound even now. It makes me feel worse sometimes because Will was so kind to me after the funeral, so keen to ensure I knew they’d be there if I needed them, that I could rely on them in Tom’s absence and I didn’t know how to say I’d never been able to rely on Tom. My brother spent his life a half-stranger to me and I feel like a fraud pretending we were real siblings.  In five and a half years, the Millers and my brother’s ex-wife have been more of a family to me than Tom ever was.

“It’s okay,” Frankie says, “I’m sure you’ve got far better roommate options.”

“I actually really don’t. One guy asked for foot pics, and these women kind of judged me because I wasn’t corporate enough anymore, so I don’t have a wealth of better options.”

Frankie frowns slightly.

“It’s a brutal market. And your place looks… nice and you seem like you wouldn’t ask for -”

“Some guy really asked for that?”

“I blocked him, it’s fine. It’s the internet, Frankie.”

“Sometimes I fucking hate that thing.”

“Yeah, but I like being able to shop in my pyjamas.”

Frankie laughs. “Okay, fair point. So, Daisy, do you want the room? ‘Cause if you do, it’s yours.”

My heart races. The room is mine? It’s not just that I’ll be escaping from feeling like a perennial thorn in Molly’s life, but it’s a beginning. Finally I have the chance to make something here, to be Daisy 2.0 and leave the corporate burnt out husk of my old self in the rearview mirror.

“You don’t have some weird neighbour who plays the bagpipes at 3am?”

“No, I don’t have one of those. It’s a normal building.”

“Good, just wanted to check. Okay then, yeah, I think I do. Want the room that is.”

“Great. I’ll get the agreement emailed over to you and we’ll go from there.”

“This is going to be good”

“Yeah, yeah it is.”

I think this might be the handshake part.

Tag List

If you would like to be added to to my overall taglist please let me know - I am no longer creating individual fic taglists though. As a reminder this blog is 18+ - minors do not interact and I block blank/ageless blogs. Tag lists are a bit funky at the moment, so I recommend following me or my fic account @thelightsandtheroses-fics (you can enable notifications for that account) if you want to ensure you're up to date

Everything Pedro tag-list: @harriedandharassed @pedrostories @hiroikegawa @pedrosaidsheispunk @pastelnap

[lizzie-queenofmeigas]

Warnings: incest

Notes: So, this chapter has a sex scene right at the beginning, but I won't post that because I have some shame. However, here is the link if you wanna read it.

As a child, Sarah used to sneak into Rafe's room. Ever since she learnt how to walk. She slept better in his bed. In his arms. She did that for years. Her mother thought it was cute. Ward not so much. And now she was doing it again.

Memories of what went down last night assaulted her when she awoke. There was a soreness between her legs, from what happened last night. Because of what she did. What Rafe did. What they did together. 

She should feel terrible about it. That was a lot of moral barriers crossed in one night. But Sarah didn't really care. It didn't feel wrong. It felt right.

"Morning" Rafe mumbled sleepy, stirring behind her. He tensed, probably remembering what happened last night. What he did "Fuck. Sarah, I'm—"

"I love you" a confession finally said out loud "Like a sister, but not only like a sister" she gulped "Do you—"

"Yes" his arms tightened around her waist "I love you. I have for a while"

"How long?"

"I think I always... romantically, at least since I was seventeen. I think, it gets blurry"

Because of the alcohol and the drugs. He didn't need to say that out loud, she knew. Seventeen. That would make her fourteen. That was the summer he started drifting away from her. 

Pieces and places.

"What do we do now? With this. With us"

Rafe kissed her neck, one time, two times, three times. Sarah giggled.

"Ideally? Live our lives together. Keep it a secret"

"Is that what you want?"

It was what Sarah wanted, but if he didn't...

"We'll figure it out" 

Would they? How can they figure out something? Committing incest was a crime. But it was true, that so long as they had enough money they could avoid the possibility of going to prison for it. But it would be Rafe who would face the possibility of prison. And that thought terrified her.

"Yeah. I should get ready for school" immediately, Rafe let go of her. It made her feel sad. The loss of his arms around her "I'm going to the shower" she sat in bed, hugging the sheets to her body "Can you pass me my shirt?"

Rafe didn't have the same shame as her, apparently, because he didn't seem bothered as he walked around the room. He threw her the shirt with a smirk. She grabbed it, her face burning at his nakedness and her own.

"I already saw you naked, don't know why you're so shy now"

"Shut up" 

Sarah put on her oversized shirt and grabbed her bikini on the way to her room. Maybe she needed to leave some of her clothes there. No, no, he was going to change rooms. She could leave clothes in the wardrobe of the new room.

"Sarah?" She froze. Wheezie was looking at her with her mouth open and her eyes, for once, not on her phone "Are you naked? What the fuck?!"

"I have to shower" she pretty much ran to her room, ignoring Wheezie's shouts and the pain she felt.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Wheezie knew. Wheezie saw. She would figure it out. And what would happen then? Her sister wouldn't tell on them, or at least she didn't think so. But what would she think of them? Would she hate them? Be disgusted by them?

Probably. We are sick and twisted.

Sarah took a quick shower, scrubbing the dried blood on her inner thighs. She had bled. Shouldn't be too surprising, it did hurt at first. But she didn't have time to dwell on that. No, time was running out. She needed to talk to Wheezie and then she had to go to school.

As she brushed her hair in front of the mirror, her gaze fell on the bite mark that decorated her neck. Fuck. She needed to hide that. Why couldn't the day be cold? If it was cold her clothes would hide it. And no one would question her for wearing a scarf. 

No scarf now, but a ribbon could do. She had a couple of ribbons wide enough to cover the bite mark, and mixed with a little makeup, the mark was pretty much invisible. She hoped, at least.

It took her a couple of deep breaths and a lot of convincing herself to actually go downstairs. To face her little sister, if she was there. And she was in the kitchen, sitting on one of the stools at the table. Rafe was there too, silently eating cereal. He smiled when he saw her.

"Wow, you guys are so gross" Wheezie commented lightly. And it was that, a teasing tone, not a judgemental one. Like a kid who sees her parents kissing and thinks it's disgusting "Stop it"

"We haven't done anything"

Wheezie glared at her.

"You two have fucked, which is super gross, but it's not that"

"You don't mind?"

She shrugged "It's you two. I'm not surprised. You have always been attached by the hip, for as long as I can remember. Then you had two bad years and now you're back and more obsessed with each other than ever. I don't care, guys, just don't kiss or anything in front of me"

"Done" Rafe finished his cereal just as Sarah sat at the table, grimacing at the action. She was so fucking sore. Thankfully, Wheezie didn't notice "When did you get back anyway?"

"I don't know. Before two in the morning for sure"

"Please tell me you didn't walk back home alone"

"Nothing ever happens around here, besides I always carry the pepper spray and taser that Rose gave me. You don't?"

"I don't go to places completely alone" Sarah sighed and took a bite of her toast "Why didn't you stay at Sandra's?"

"Ugh. Her boyfriend dropped by and she pretty much kicked us out. So rude"

"That is rude" Rafe agreed with a nod. He checked the kitchen's clock before standing up "Hurry up, we have to go"

They dropped Wheezie at school first and made her swear she would never tell anyone about them. Her sister seemed to understand the importance of keeping quiet, so she agreed.

"You know, we could go to the beach later" Rafe commented, trying to sound casual. She knew him better than that "Like, just the two of us"

Sarah smiled "Are you asking me out on a date?"

"Maybe I am"

"Well, then, maybe I would like that"

Sarah looked through the car window, biting her lower lip, her face flushed. They reached the high school too soon, in her opinion. She couldn't wait until it was over and she could spend all of her time with her family and friends. There were some doubts in her mind, about going to college. Rafe didn't know yet, but she'll tell him.

"See you later" Sarah leaned forward and pressed a kiss on his cheek before leaving the car.

"You two sure are close now" You have no idea. Kie pretty much dragged her inside, because Sarah was having trouble walking fast "What happened to you? Why are you walking so weirdly?"

Oh, fuck.

"I fell" yeah, that was a good excuse. A believable one "So I can't really walk at your pace"

"Oh, sorry" her friend apologized "What's with the ribbon?"

Her fingers touched the lace of the ribbon. It was pink.

"I was watching Buffy, and it gave me some fashion ideas"

Her mother used to love that show. They watched it together when she was a child.

"It looks cool. Suits you"

"Thanks"

Sarah looked at the building, dreading already all the hours she would have to spend sitting on a hard, cold chair.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pope had never expected to befriend Sarah Cameron, much less Rafe. If whatever truce they had could be called 'friendship'. But there he was, spending at least one day a week in Tannyhill. Drinking Rafe's whiskey (he did it once and is never doing it again) and eating his food. Swimming in his pool.

He had been hesitant at first, in believing Rafe was actually sorry. That he was actually trying to change. But it seemed like he really meant it. And that was why he had gone to Tannyhill when his father received a letter. A threatening letter. He'd gone to Tannyhill because of all people he knew, Rafe was the only one who was really dangerous. And because somehow, in the past few months, Tannyhill became a place of reunion for the Pogues. They were all there.

"So, this guy wants a key, what key?" John B questioned out loud after reading his letter "It literally just says 'the key'"

"It's not very descriptive" JJ agreed "What did your dad say?"

"That he has no idea what that means" he grabbed the letter "But check this out, look at the name. C. Limbrey, doesn't it ring a bell?"

He could tell by everyone's face that it did, in fact, not rang any bells. Pope sighed.

"The captain of the Royal Merchant was a Limbrey. So, I think this has something to do with the gold"

"We know a Limbrey" Sarah commented lightly. She was sitting on her couch, a blanket over her legs and a ribbon around her neck. She was walking weird that day. She fell, or so she said. Pope didn't know what to make of it "Charlotte? I don't actually remember her name. I was like eight last time she came around"

"Carla" Rafe placed the empty glass, previously filled with whiskey, over the table "Her name's Carla. She was a cousin of our mother"

"So...you guys are Limbreys?" Kie raised her eyebrows to remark her words.

"We are Redfields" Sarah's voice was clear and precise, probably bothered by the comment somehow. Then again, he would be bothered too if someone told him he came from a family of slavers "But our maternal grandmother was a Limbrey. So, Carla is our first cousin once removed. Which means we can help you, Pope"

"Yeah, we'll call her. See what she wants"

"Would she tell you?"

Rafe shrugged "Don't know. She was close to our mother, but didn't really show up after her death. But for what I heard she is dying, been so for years"

"That is a good excuse to not show up, actually" JJ took a fistfull of chips and swallowed them. He was a messy eater "What can she do to you, anyway? We're rich now"

"Yeah. We're kooks now"

"We're new money, she's old money. She has connections we don't. Not to mention she practically owns Charleston" he explained a little exasperated.

"Thank God we don't live in Charleston"

Rafe grabbed his phone, previously left by the empty glass, and dialed a number. Pope felt anxiety moving to his heart. It was always in his body, but sometimes it was still and did nothing. Others, it moved.

"What are you doing?!"

"Calling her" he could practically the 'duh' in his voice.

"You have her number?" Sarah asked surprised, because apparently that was something important.

"So, are we gonna threaten her or..." Pope glared at JJ.

"We are not going to threaten her" John B said as if he hadn't had worst ideas. Then, he looked around "Right?"

"I'm just saying, we have guns and we are not dying. So maybe she should be scared of us and not the other way around"

Rafe rolled his eyes, and honestly he could relate to that.

"Hey, Carla. This is Rafe Cameron, yes, Bessie's son. I was wondering if you could come over to Tannyhill, to discuss something important. Business plans. I have a lot of money now, as I'm sure you know" Carla had to say something that he didn't like, because his eyes went empty and cold. That did not help his anxiety "Yeah, so sad. Poor dad. Anyway, when are you free to meet me? Tomorrow? Good. See you tomorrow, Carla"

He hang up the phone, his empty eyes only filling up with life again when they fell on Sarah. He sat by her side, their shoulders touching. It was weird. Pope didn't have any siblings, but he was pretty sure they usually didn't act the way Rafe and Sarah did.

There was something he wasn't catching.

"Dude" only by those words he could tell JJ was about to say something insensitive "You really fucking hate your dad, huh? Not judging you or anything, it's just that I have never met anyone who hates their parents so much"

"Yeah, well, he's a piece of shit"

Something sad shone in JJ's blue eyes, a clearer shade than Rafe's. Pope felt the urge to hug him.

"Happens"

"It does" Rafe's fell over Sarah's thigh, squeezing lightly. Pope didn't think anyone other than him noticed that.

He didn't know what to make of it.

[sulphuricgrin]

Altmeri Customs Headcanons: Praxis and Engagement/Wedding Ceremonies!

So I was inspired to share my Altmeri headcanons after seeing @thescrolls-haveforetold's post about Altmer engagements! I’m gonna combine my thoughts on the important stuff :3 I'm gonna try to write this in a way that's easy for those unfamiliar with ESO's additional lore. I'm just having fun here building upon lore/worldbuilding. >:) I'm sorry. I think I wrote another long post 😅 At least it's not political this time? lol

Let’s start with: Praxis

Basically Altmeri coming of age. It’s best talked about in The Price of Praxis book. As mentioned in the book, the age of adulthood is 18 and the ceremony is done in a chapel. (I’m getting traumatic flashbacks to Catholic Confirmation. Ick) It's here I would think their "Path to Alaxon" (perfection) truly begins. They're given a calian (aetherquartz sphere) for their Praxis ceremony, and later given an alaxon sphere when they attain a degree of perfection. Both can be broken if they fail society/fall from their path. Both can be restored, but that's harder depending how far the Altmer has "fallen". Anyways!

I like to think there are stages an Altmer must follow prior to their Praxis ceremony!

Pre-ceremony Preparations

The initiate spends months or even years preparing for the Praxis, studying Altmeri history, magical theory, philosophy, and genealogy. This phase reflects their intellectual mastery and connection to their ancestors.

The initiate undergoes ritual purification, bathing in enchanted waters infused with moonstone dust or blessed by a priestess of Auri-El. This act cleanses them of "impurities" and aligns them with the divine.

An elder or accomplished mage from their family or community guides them, ensuring they are prepared both physically and spiritually. A sponsor would help aspiring artisans.

2. Ritual of Reflection

They visit a Hall of Ancestry, where the initiate stands before effigies or spirit-glamours of their ancestors.

The initiate recites their full lineage in the ancient Aldmeri/Altmeri language, emphasizing their connection to their noble bloodline. Any mistake in this recital could signify dishonor.

The spirits may present a vision or riddle to test the initiate’s wisdom and worthiness, offering cryptic advice or challenges they must overcome.

3. A Test of Mastery

This would be a public display of what they plan to do for their Path to Alaxon. The skill could be magical, martial, artistic, or intellectual. (Ex: Lilliandra does a grand displays of music and illusions for years before her ceremony.) This display must reflect their personal aptitude and the ideals of their noble house. Failure is considered shameful and may result in further training.

4. Receiving Their Calian

All we know is they are made of aetherquartz (and sun-blown glass from the cited book). So in terms of appearance? Go crazy. Maybe (likely) the higher in status, the more brilliant the calian looks.

It's done in a chapel, with family in pews. An Ascendant Curate gives the calian after reciting the Athel Vialen (a prayer? a hymn?). Easy to take religious inspirations to fill in the blanks.

5. Post-Ceremony

Depending on the status would depend on how big this celebration would be. Poor family? It would be a smaller, more intimate celebration. The higher the status, the larger the celebration. Families could give offerings to the Divines here or before. Speeches, feasts. The Altmer being celebrated could hunt for more sponsors in the party.

Okay. That's done. On to:

Engagement/Wedding Customs

I'm taking inspiration from customs worldwide. But my biggest would be Chinese pre-wedding customs.

But first - arranged marriages definitely would be/are big considering the Altmer are famous for their interest in lineage and heritage over attraction. It's even more important to highborn Altmer. Inter-class and interracial marriages would be looked down upon, if not outright reviled . We know in the 2nd Era breaking an arranged betrothal leaves both parties as outcasts to their own families and communities. I imagine divorces are also likely HIGHLY shameful. (Hopefully there's scenarios where it would be understandable)

Matchmaking is said to take years or decades before one becomes betrothed. I wouldn't be surprised if this matchmaking started around the time they became adults, if not sooner for the highest nobles. Because Altmer live longer than humans and beastfolk (and I think Bosmer??), it's not a surprise they take time with matchmaking and engagements.

My headcanons: So matchmaking taking perhaps 5-10 years on average. They normally take into account: the couple's star charts, pedigree documents, family, physicality, and other attributes. When the families agree, they start the "traditional rites".

Formal proposal- this is the announcement of the engagement. This would be a ceremony in itself, within a temple/chapel for both families. A priest would petition to the Aedra. I could see the Altmer be extra and make this almost like a mini wedding ceremony.

Selection of the Date - this would be done under the guidance of priests. They would pray to the Aedra to divine the most auspicious date.

Visit Ancestral Shrines - they would pray to both families' ancestral spirits for their blessings

Betrothal Gifts - Throughout the engagement, both parties exchange gifts. This is also a way to prove both parties are compatible. Gifts can vary based off ancestral regions; local foods, jewelry and items made within the region, etc.

Wedding Ceremony - the final rite

Engagements I could see lasting anywhere from 5-15 years. Maybe both parties are busy with their Path to Alaxon and agree to have a later wedding date so they can focus on the Path (or for other reasons).

I also want some symbolism. "By the five-and-three" is a common Altmer saying which invokes the 8 Divines. I chose 5 rites for the engagement.

Unfortunately my wedding headcanons aren't as well thought out. But I'll try my best. Maybe you guys can help with your headcanons? Okay, here we go:

To fit with the "five-and-three" theme, the wedding celebrations would last three days! I can give elements that I think might fit, but none of these are in any specific order like all above. Here are some possible elements:

Sacred rituals performed by priests.

Purification rites using water or incense.

A focus on family and ancestors, considering the Altmer’s respect for lineage.

Typical offerings to the Aedra for blessings

The higher the statue, the more elaborate ceremonies/celebrations naturally. Maybe a solemn atmosphere with an emphasis on traditional attire and ceremonial precision. But maybe the lower class would break from that mold and make it a merrier, more intimate celebration!

Invitations extended based on social rank and importance.

A heavy emphasis on proper etiquette, decorum, and public display of wealth and prestige.

Elaborate jewelry and ceremonial robes for the bride and groom

OH, my fav headcanon: I like to image they elaborating paint their skin in some gold mica product, invoking their relationship of being descendants of the Aedra. Think almost like Henna, which is done in traditional Indian weddings!!

The couple would recite ancient vows in the Aldmeri tongue, emphasizing tradition and continuity with their ancestors.

A high-ranking ancestor or spirit might be invoked to witness the union and provide a blessing.

Sorry if this is a mess of ideas. 😅 I have no plans to actually write a wedding in my fanfic. But this is still fun to think about!

[maydazey]

you lose if you worry. you lose if you hesitate.

happy late birthday to this loser

[heartorbit]

if we could stay connected, just like this

[triglycercule]

horror being very specific with table manners and he berates people (dust and killer) for eating like fucking pigs

i think it'd be morbidly funny that because there was no food in horrortale but the cutlery and stuff was all there that maybe he would pretend to eat with no food on the plate. it was in a satirical way that he would joke maybe around horror paps or alone where he would pretend to eat and have really good table manners but then the satire joke became REAL and now horror is incredibly specific about how to eat food

you MUST hold the fork in the left and knife in right says horror. no killer you can't duel wield the fucking knives this is a table not a slaughterhouse. dust pick up your elbows off the table. actually how about you get your entire upper body off the table tf why are you SLEEPING ON THE FOOD??? killer's sitting fetal position in the chair because of course he wouldn't sit normally like the idiot he is. dust is forced to put his hood down and reveal his face no more mysterious shadow style because it puts horror at ease. they cannot have a single peaceful meal because once they get past the table manners phase it then becomes a completion to see who can eat the least (because they suck at everything including eating)

[twinstxrs]

there’s probably something deeply wrong with me because every time i see someone react to the pok gukgak interrogation scene it’s like “oh no oh my god is riz’s dad a bad guy?” when the first time i saw that scene my only thought was “oh my god is riz’s dad HOT??”

[sieglinde-freud]

thinking about them and banging my head against the wall again whats new. they are making me so emo. god. what the fuck

[britneyshakespeare]

barnes and noble has been raising the prices of everything and further pushing for their premium membership option (which they raised the price of by 60 percent this year!) and then when they have big sales events, they're less than what they used to be.

last year at this time you could get one of their leather-bound book annex tomes for $12.50 (without a member discount) because of the 50 percent off all hardcover sales. but they raised the price of those tomes from 25 bucks to 30, and they decreased the sale from 50 percent off all hardcovers to 1/3rd off. so that same book that was $12.50 at last year's end-of-year sale is now 20 bucks. and that's supposed to be savings enough to induce me to walk into one of their stores this week?

i'm sorry but b&n has just gotten so greedy, even though their business has only been doing better and better in previous years. they do not have to be raising prices like they have been, and they can damn well afford to have the same savings events they used to. if you went to one of those hardcover sales a year or two ago, even if you lived in a less populated area like i do, you had never seen a b&n so busy in your life. things were flying off the shelves. they WERE making bank.

and as a company they've only been growing and growing (as much as the publishing industry has been, in recent years). but there are so many other ways to buy books. CHEAPER ways to buy books. MORE SUSTAINABLE ways to buy books. and since books and booksellers are doing really well right now, i don't see why barnes and noble is getting so greedy when they don't have to be. i dont like new shiny books that much. people buy books for the content, ultimately. sometimes we as consumers might make the choice that a new shiny book is worth paying a bit more for, but not that much. barnes and noble has just been demanding more and more of their customers' money for less and less benefit.

[moongothic]

Re: Crocodile as the Missing Kuja Empress-theory

I do wanna throw it out there quickly that we know Shakky retired from being a pirate and the Kuja Empress 42 years ago at the age of 22, while Hancock took the throne 13 years ago (age 18), meaning the Missing Empress' reign/era lasted for about 29 years

And while we don't know how long the Kuja might've been without a ruler between empresses (like do they have a system set where they know who will take the throne next Immidiately After the previous one steps down/dies/etc, or might they spend years without an empress until they find a new suitable ruler?)

We do know that when Shakky retired, Crocodile would've been four

So unless Crocodile became The Kuja Empress at Age 4 (or unless the Kuja were completely without an empress for almost a decade and then gave the throne to a literal child), then there's no way Crocodile could be the Missing Kuja Empress

[phagodyke]

dating an art student was so crazy I'm just thinking abt that one birthday I had where my ex got me stickers from the etsy of the person they were cheating on me with....

[jichanxo]

actually criminal that there's still no studio recording of the english version of 'the way things are' from the death note musical. god please i need a miracle

[swagging-back-to]

not sorry. i extend very little sympathy and patience towards tras who are underage, and the only ones who do get said sympathy are TIFs. but again. it's MICROSCOPIC levels of sympathy.