#i'll probably update the ot3 later--- if i can think of one

[urdnotcadash]

Sunshine Cadash :) :)

Name one of my OCs and i’ll reply to all of these

(fair warning that i’m still working on her and have, im sure, changed a few things. & haven’t really updated her bio on my oc page.)

B A S I C S

full name: Sunshine Luna Cadash

gender: female

sexuality: pansexual

pronouns: she/her

O T H E R S

family: Zelde Cadash (sister), Wesley Cadash (brother), Jonas Cadash (father), Karla Cadash(mother) Nadine Cadash (grandmother), Jett Cadash (grandfather)

birthplace: Wycome 

job: trained to be a Carta Assassin, then Herald of Andraste, then Inquisitor….. then professional Solas asskicker. c:

phobias: heights (yup), darkspawn and large bodies of water.

guilty pleasures: smutty books & crafting ( like: sewing and crocheting)

M O R A L S

morality alignment?: Chaotic Good, i’d say.

sins - lust/greed/gluttony/sloth/pride/envy/wrath

virtues - chastity/charity/diligence/humility/kindness/patience/justice

T H I S - O R - T H A T

organized/disorganized: organized, definitely.

close minded/open-minded: open-minded

calm/anxious: anxious

disagreeable/agreeable: agreeable for the most part.

cautious/reckless: cautious

patient/impatient: patient

outspoken/reserved: reserved, until needed otherwise

leader/follower: a follower learning to lead

empathetic/unemphatic: empathetic

optimistic/pessimistic: a little of both. 

traditional/modern: modern

hard-working/lazy: hardworking

introvert/extrovert: introverted– people can be exhausting.

R E L A T I O N S H I P S

otp: Cadash x Iron Bull 

ot3: i honestly can’t think anyone else, right now. ;-;

brotp: Dorian, Varric & Cassandra…. x Sunshine Cadash

notp: Cole & Solas….. x Sunshine Cadash AND basically anyone who’s sexuality could be invalidated (ex: Dorian). All in a romantic & sexual sense of a relationship. 

[bijackkellys]

thunderstruck ; prologue

Fandom: Newsies (All Media Types) Relationships: Jack Kelly/David Jacobs/Katherine Plumber Pulitzer  Word Count: 753 Dedications: dedicated to my amazing gf and beta reader @mistyw273​ and to @dimenovelcowboy​ for just being wonderful. some of my lovely followers also asked to be tagged (if you’d like to be added to this list just send me an ask or dm!): @santa-fe-maniac​ @pulitzers-world​ @yo-let-me-get-a-milkyway​ @verified-dumbass​ @jewishdavidjacobs​ @agentsnickers​ @thetruthabouttheboy​ Author’s Note: so here it is, finally—the jathvey superhero au i've been sitting on for a little while. first of all, i want to say thank you for being here; i'm really excited to get this out of my head and see where my muse takes it. some notes before we begin: i do have a plan for this, start to finish, but only the first few chapters have been written out, so updates may come slowly. action and friendship are probably going to be the most important aspects of this fic, because while the ot3 is the endgame, my focus is building them as a team and as friends first and foremost. there's going to be violence but with the plan that i currently have it won't be gory or overly graphic. think like, a marvel movie. i'll also post warnings for specific triggers in the notes of each chapter. with that being said, let's get on with the introduction. tws for this chapter are fire and major character death (kinda).

read it on ao3

THE CATALYST FOR ALL OF THIS is a fire.

On the day that it starts, it’s snowing, the kind of biting, snarling cold that’s only found in New York in January. The city is half-buried in layers of white and dead beneath it, so when the flames catch, hot and bright and golden, it seems as though they’re the only living thing for miles.

Black smoke curls into the air above the hospital, and twelve blocks away, just outside a coffee shop, Crutchie’s fingers dig into Jack’s arm.

“Don’t,” he says. It’s more of a plea than anything, his cheeks bright red and eyes glassy from the sting of the cold. There’s fear written in every corner of his face; he must know, already, what’s on Jack’s mind. “Jack, your powers won’t do anything against the fire, let someone else handle it—”

Jack’s not listening, too busy tugging on his mask and pulling out of Crutchie’s grip. He’s right, maybe—Jack can summon lightning to his fingertips but will be powerless in the center of an inferno, and in the moment he can’t bring himself to care. “I’ll be back,” he tells Crutchie over his shoulder. “I always come back.”

Crutchie yells something after him that’s lost to the blizzard.

When Jack reaches the hospital, the fire has spread; he can feel the heat of it in the air, a stark contrast to the still-falling snow that’s turning black with ash. Around him people are screaming. For a brief, fleeting second he hesitates—the fire department will be here soon, and they will do what they can, and he could turn back now.

Except he can’t, not really. Not away from this. He strips off his coat and tugs his scarf over his mouth and nose and someone behind him calls out to him, but then it doesn’t matter because he’s already inside.

It’s like stepping into hell. Jack thinks he could die from the smell alone; there’s smoke everywhere and it’s suffocating, burns in his throat and his nose and threatens to strangle him.  He can’t focus on that, though, can’t focus on the oppressiveness of the heat and the fire in his lungs. He has to find the stragglers and get out—he can hear voices coming from every direction, reverberating in his skull. Jack blinks the soot and sweat from his eyes and takes off towards the closest one.

There’s a woman half-pinned under her wheelchair, sobbing for help. The metal is searing already; he bites back a cry as he wrenches it off of her and slings one of her arms over his shoulder, half-dragging her back to the entrance. She’s saying something to him but he can’t hear her over the roar of the flames and the ringing in his ears. The moment she’s safe, he tears back inside.

Jack pulls two more people out of the building, a young girl still clinging to a stuffed turtle, a nurse who’s stumbling blindly through the smoke, and runs back in a fourth time. Distantly, he wonders why the sprinklers never turned on, wonders if the firetrucks have made it through the blizzard—he doesn’t know how much longer he can do this, honestly. His vision is going blurry, tinted at the edges from the heat and smoke and exhaustion, but there’s still voices coming from inside. He has to keep going—

When the entrance to the building caves in, what could be minutes or maybe hours of dragging people through smoke and fire later, it’s striking in its finality, like the last nail on a coffin. Like his fate has been sealed. Jack feels his legs give way in the same manner—he could find another exit, he thinks, but oh, the room is spinning ferociously. There’s tongues of red and gold around him, and voices still piercing the air, and he thinks of Crutchie, standing in the snow and still waiting for him to come back, to keep his promise.

In the end it’s Spot’s voice in his head, words from years ago when Jack had only just started donning the suit. He was more solemn than Jack had ever seen him, eyes like chips of coal as he told him gravely, you can’t save everyone.

But Jack had been sixteen and restless and determined, and now he’s eighteen and burning and maybe already dead.

No, he had said then, and thinks again now as he finally, finally shuts his eyes. But I can sure as hell try.