#story: in your arms

[theribbajack]

"Now, the vow will be honoured, and my Lord brother's soul will return."

Radahn stans keep winning, but I personally am in Miyazaki's walls rn

[urfriendlywriter]

birthday prompts for loversss !

(feel free to usee<3 tag mee!! inspired by my b'day haha. plot twist is i am single :))

staying up to wish them at midnight

you bring them a cake, singing hbd, but all their attention is on you.

hugs you, tearing up, breaking down because nobody has done this for them ever

intimate b'day celebrations like it's just you and them and every whisper of hbd and well wishes are so comforting <3

cupcake b'day celebrations!

them hugging u from behind as they watch u make a wish

"what did u wish for?" u ask as a soft murmur and they say, "you. to never let u go."

i celebrated my bestie's b'day and she said to me,

^ "thank u for loving me every year and making me feel like i am being loved by someone,"

^ "knowing that, that someone is you, is what matters." (i won in LIFEE)

"how's my favorite b'day girl/boy doing?" :))

maybe it's their first time having their b'day being celebrated, :(

and all they can do is bury their face into ur neck and cry. the cake abandoned for a moment until they gain composure.

when they write u letters on ur b'day,

or give u thought-out gifts.

wiping cake from the corners of their lips

or alternatively just kissing it away, making them fluster. (uhm.. didn't happen on my bday, who's lyINGG-)

a quiet whisper of happy birthday,

tight hugs and lingering kisses throughout the day, and just feeling loved by the other person. feeling their emotions of gratitude to have u in their life!

telling them or writing to them, "It's your [age] birthday, and so [age] reasons why I love you." (eg: 20th, 19th and so on)

[starry-bi-sky]

danyal al ghul memes because i don't think i've done those yet for this au.

(the jason one is in reference to the fanon headcanon/au that Jason and Damian potentially knew each other and interacted while jason was in the league. I've thought about it before in context of this au, but haven't thought about it enough to feel inspired or motivated to make a post exploring the idea)

(diablito means, as you can guess, 'little devil'. while i'm neutral to latino jason, i think the nickname is cute as fuck and was danny's main nickname from Jason. i don't wanna touch that timeline so im not gonna decide how old they were when Jason was there.)

Skulker: i am the ghost zone's greatest hunter! i capture and hunt creatures both rare and dangerous. Danyal: a poacher?? you're a poacher?? you poach animals??Skulker:...i sense i've made a mistake of some kind.

anyways that was the day that Skulker cemented himself as Danny's no.1 opp, and still remains there to this day even if he and Vlad are both viciously fighting for second. Out of everyone in the the AP rogues gallery, Skulker will be the first to be thrown under the bus in terms of 'o shit here comes phantom fucking RUN'.

[felikatze]

i feel like. the more i like and care about something. the less i am capable of watching video essays about it. game i never heard of and don't intend to ever play? sure i'll watch 8hrs discussing it's flaws.

but thing i like? if you think you can point out flaws i'm not already aware of, you are dead wrong. none know better how much my interests suck than me.

and also. if you get one thing wrong about them i'll maul you. with things i like it means i've already seen every single piss on the poor take of it ever, and i'm much more polarized. i got emotional investment. i'm going to start biting people.

[sunderwight]

Hualian Idol AU where instead of the statues the big reveal of Hua Cheng's longstanding amorous fixation on Xie Lian is all of his self-insert "my mom sold me to One Direction" style fanfics located in the depths of some boyband RPF archive.

[uncanny-tranny]

Love disabled people who just lie about their disabilities to nosy, intrusive questions. Sorry, yeah, I lost my arm in the wash one day. It's funny how that happens! Oh, I got back pain from saving nineteen children from a burning fire department <3

[superfruitland]

"such a pure devotion to your skin

who'll absolve you from your sin?

you flee communion paranoid

now your cup is the void

it tore your heart out"

@intotheelliwoods sorry for not delivering on my promise of drawing fluff 🤍

[demaparbat-hp]

How does that first encounter go down between them in your Spitfire AU? I imagine some real conflicting emotions on all sides!

I would love to hear you ramble!! ❤️

*cracks knuckles* Alright, let's do this.

As far as the world is concerned, Lu Ten II doesn't exist and the Royal Bloodline ends with Princess Azula. The little kid that follows Prince Zuko everywhere? That's Ten Ten, an orphaned stowaway his Crew found and adopted for some weird reason no-one ever questions—the kid is just that lovable.

(It helps, honestly, that Lu Ten II is a carbon-copy of poor, forgotten Ursa. No one would ever think to connect him with Fire Lord Ozai, long may he reign.)

Little Ten Ten loves to run off when the Crew is on shore leave. He gets into trouble sometimes, but only because of his chronic inability to look away from people who need help (it makes Zuzu both so proud and so shouty-because-he's-worried. It's fun until it isn't).

By now the Crew knows not to panic when the kid goes missing for a couple of hours in a harbor town—which is why no one noticed Ten Ten's disappearance until it was too late.

"Could someone please explain to me," what starts as a mutter becomes a shout as anxiety takes over Sokka, "why on earth did we go into town to buy necessary, highly specific supplies, and returned���not only with a stolen waterbending scroll—stolen! From pirates, Katara!—but with a Fire Nation-looking KID?!"

While Ten Ten is having the time of his life goofing with Aang, out-sassing why-is-this-happening-to-me Sokka, and melting Katara's heart—Zuko is losing his mind, sanity, and temper because how on Agni's name do you lose a Prince of your nation?

But, sir, he's like three-feet-tall—

HOW, JEE?!

Needless to say, the pirates kidnap the pretty waterbending thief and her kid with the sharp tongue and fancy-looking clothes. Which turns out to be a Bad Idea™ because, well, a skinny guy from the watertribes and his way-too-young-to-be-bald companion? They can absolutely deal with them.

A Crew's worth of murderous Fire Nation soldiers lead by the unforgiving, terrifying, bloodthirsty Prince?

They are not ready for that.

[scandinavianfairytale]

Safe in your arms

Pairing: Tangerine x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, misogyny, threat of violence (not towards the Reader)

A/N: I decided his real name is Ethan, with no context or back story. I just like the name and it would suit him 😁

Tangerine had your number memorized - he ought to, given how many times he has dialed it. In fact, he memorized it as soon as you wrote it on the piece of napkin when he met you in that rooftop bar in London.

He was working with Lemon, completely focused on their target, until he saw you getting harassed. He stepped in, kissing your cheek, and met the man's eyes. The dude was visibly shaken.

"You didn't say you had a new toy."

"I don't owe you anything, Marcus. Least of all a list of who I'm seeing." You glared at the man.

"Have fun with a used woman." Marcus spat at Tangerine. As he turned around, Tangerine wanted to grab him by the neck and throw him off of the roof, but your hand stopped him.

"Leave him. His ego is wounded, and he's lashing out." You waved your hand and let go of the situation.

"What a child." Tangerine muttered.

"Male fragility more like it."

"Do you usually go for men like that?"

"I don't date boys - him included." You finally met Tangerines' eyes.

"So what happened to him?"

"I told him I'm not interested, but he has yet to grasp that idea."

"How many times did you have to say no?"

"I think now it was the fourth time."

"Why keep being polite?"

"Because being mean might get me in trouble."

"Well, I'd be happy to assist you. If you want him to stop bothering you, just say the word and you will never hear from him again."

Your eyebrows shot up and you considered the man in front of you. He was very handsome. Strong, but at the same time still delicate.

"I don't doubt you'd do that, but I don't need your help. Thank you, though. That was very kind of you to jump in before." You smiled at him and jumped off the bar stool. Only then did you realize how much taller he really was.

"Wait. I know that this is a bit forward of me, but I was hoping you'd give me your phone number?" Tangerine wanted to bite his tongue immediately after saying those words.

He was glad his mouth was quicker than his brain. Five years later, and you were still in his life. The phone rang six times, before he heard your still groggy voice pick up.

"It's nine am, Love. Are you still in bed?" Tangerine grinned.

"Ethan, morning." He could hear you smile. He loved hearing his name roll from your lips. He could picture you right now, lazing around, still in your underwear with his T-shirt, with the work laptop turned on, giving the illusion that you were already working.

"It's already evening here." He almost scolded.

"When are you coming back? I feel like it's been weeks since I saw you."

"Have you been thinking about me?" Tangerine smirked as he whispered into the phone, looking around to see if anyone was listening.

"You know I have." You smirked into the phone on your side of the world. "Although I appreciate that no one is hogging the whole bed every night." You joked.

"I hate to tell you this, Love, but you're the bed hog."

"Agree to disagree." You smiled. "Are you okay?"

"I'm doing good. How are you holding up?" Tangerine looked out of the window at the passing landscape.

"I'm okay. I met some friends yesterday, and we ended up going for cocktails. It was a bad idea, drinking on a work day." You giggled.

"I'm glad you had fun. But take it easy today, and please don't go out jogging if you feel sick."

"Ethan, stop worrying about me, just come home as soon as you can, okay?" Your voice got serious.

"Okay. We are almost done, I'll be there hogging the bed again in no time." Tangerine smiled.

"Okay. I love you." You smacked your lips, sending him a vitual kiss.

"I love you." He smiled and hung up.

Contrary to his fantasy, you have been up for the last 3 hours, worrying about your boyfriend. He should've been back several days ago, but he took an extra job since he was already in Tokyo. But something felt off to you, and you have been worried since then. Going out drinking helped you out with putting the nagging feeling away at least for a bit. But then you woke up from another nightmare, still drunk from a few hours before.

However, hearing him just now made you feel so much better and you were able to focus and stop dreading what may go wrong. You went back to hoping and impatiently waiting for Ethan to be back, safe in your arms.

Thank you for reading ✨️😊

The GIF belongs to the amazing creator 🙏✨️

[sonicchaoscontrol]

[Ch. 1, Page 25]

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The servers are the seven (terabytes of old data)

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[luck-of-the-drawings]

POOR GABRIEL MONTEZ! YOU NEVER SAW THIS COMING DID YOU? ALL YOU WANTED WAS POWER. SECURITY. SAFETY. & THATS EXACTLY WHAT YOU GOT! JUST IN EXCHANGE FOR YOUR BODY. LETS JUST HOPE NO ONE FUCKS THIS UP. LETS JUST HOPE YOU WONT HAVE TO CLEAN UP THE MESS.

[tennessoui]

brain will not let me sleep until I say

same age padawans au where they’ve been in a weird wired frenemies thing for ages but now that they’re both mature adults (all of 24/25 years old) they’re more friends than enemies….

And it’s Obi-Wan that Anakin tells when he’s decided he’s going to leave the Order, not anyone else. He has a wife. There was a pregnancy scare a few weeks ago and it made her want their relationship to stop being a secret so they could really have kids. He has to leave the Order. Doesn’t Obi-Wan understand?

Obi-Wan, who has been a little in love with Anakin since they were younglings, does not understand. Not one bit. Instead of wishing him well and helping him pack, he goes to the Council and requests a mission in the Outer Rim….perhaps a month long or more…perhaps undercover? No contact with anyone on Coruscant. And maybe they could assign Anakin Skywalker as his back up? He can help with the undercover aspect.

And at first, Anakin is pissed because he was planning to resign from the Order in the next few days, but Obi-Wan convinces him to go on this mission with him….one last mission as a Jedi. To say goodbye to the Jedi life.

Obviously, Obi-Wan sort of wants to go on one last mission with Anakin because in his dreams, he wants the mission to go so perfectly that Anakin stays with him the Order. But realistically, he mostly wants to go on this mission to say goodbye to Anakin and then let him go, soaking up all his warmth and light, memorizing every casual touch bestowed on him because he knows they’re ticking down to the last handful of seconds together.

But then obviously the mission works TOO well and Anakin falls in love with Obi-Wan but doesn’t admit to it even to himself before they’re on the ship about to head back to Coruscant and Anakin realizes he doesn’t want to leave this planet because he doesn’t want to leave Obi-Wan if it could always be like this so he crashes the ship during take off so they can stay longer because he’s 24 and doesn’t know how to handle the immensity of his love except through destruction

[iroissleepdeprived]

hey hey hear me out

Telemachus in a big, HUGE armour and saying "look mom I am like dad" and Penelope just pats his head saying "yeah just like your dad"

[loquaciousquark]

when will eppie hawke and fenris meet tavish and astarion? (:

"And anyway, it won't be that bad. One last little Fade rift. We'll barricade it up as best we can, send a message to Skyhold, go home, and—"

One of the craggy footholds crumbles away beneath Hawke's foot, and it's only Fenris's quick hand that saves her from a plummet back down the side of the barren mountain. "Hawke, please."

"Please yourself. I said you didn't have to come."

Fenris throws her a longsuffering look, the flickering green lightning of the rift casting weird shadows over his eyes, but he doesn't let go of her arm until she's got both feet on solid ground again. "Just seal it and let this be done."

"My heart's only desire, lover," Hawke says, smiling, just as another pair of voices rises from the other side of the rift.

"Careful—careful! It shocks like the entire Hells are in there. Where's Gale?"

"Wherever Karlach dropped him, I suppose, with that little sprained ankle of his. No, I see them, they're almost here. Come away, darling. No need to get so dramatically close."

"This, from you?" says the woman, just as she and her fellow voice round the far edge of the rift. "Oh!"

"Well!" Hawke says almost at the same moment. Two of them after all: a short, slim woman with auburn hair pulled back in a low tail, and a tall, lithe man with hair as white as Fenris's and eyes that gleam like rubies. The man has a dagger drawn already, a thin smile playing over his face; the woman's fingers rest on her sheathed rapier, but her gaze is open, friendly. Hawke plants her staff on the rocky ground in as welcoming a gesture as she can manage. "Fancy running into someone like you up here of all places."

"I could say the same," the woman says. The green rift, still hanging between them and stretching a good twenty feet into the sky, gives an ominous rumble. "Our wizard's been fretting about magical disturbances along the city's borders for weeks. He finally traces the source to this location, and here you are at the heart of it. I'd like to believe it's coincidence."

"Alas," Hawke says, "one of my greatest faults is a terrible habit of being around when things begin. Fenris can attest to that better than most." She lays a hand on Fenris's shoulder, but he's stiff as iron, eyes glued to the man's dagger, and he's reached back for the hilt of his greatsword. "I'm Hawke, by the way."

"Call me Tav."

"And I'm Astarion," the man says grandly, accompanied by a wholly unnecessary flourish of his dagger. "We're here to steal the world."

"Save it," Tav says sharply.

"Of course, my dear. Save the world. What did I say?"

Fenris makes a short, disgusted noise, but Hawke's pleased to see he's let go of his own sword. She doesn't think this Astarion is going to kill them—not easily, anyway—and she likes the look of Tav despite herself. Both of them quick on their feet, she thinks, both moving gracefully with an innate, self-assured balance. As Tav steps around the rift Astarion moves with her like water, without even needing to see where she's gone. It reminds her a great deal of Fenris and herself, actually, though Hawke would give an arm to trust her own feet that much.

Fenris, it seems, has come to similar conclusions, and he rolls his shoulders as he releases their tension. Even his voice has lost its nascent fury, which for Fenris is practically friendly in situations like this. "The rift is dangerous. We will guard it until the Inquisitor can seal it permanently. Be on your way."

"Inquisitor?" drawls Astarion with that same, thin-lipped smile. "Sounds like someone from dear Shadowheart's former enclave, don't you think?"

"I don't think they're Sharran," Tav says. "Are you?"

"What a speculative look you've put on," Hawke says, delighted. "I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about. Unless you'd like me to be Sharran, in which case, I most certainly am and in fact have always been."

Both Fenris and Astarion roll their eyes—hilarious in its own right, but heightened by the clear antipathy still remaining between them. Fenris sighs. "Hawke—"

The rift explodes.

Green lightning shatters over the rocky cliff. The rumble bursts into a deafening roar; the faint breeze that had been dancing around them sweeps up into a hurricane. The air cracks and snaps with a sudden smell of ozone.

Hawke throws her hand over her eyes. She can't see—the wind tears her hair from its bindings and she can't see past the brilliant flashes of blazing green and she can't hear— "Fenris!"

Someone's fingers wrap around hers. She wrenches up her staff, calls for fire—for ice—for anything—but the rift has become a maelstrom and every scrap of magic sucks into the raging whirl before she can shape it. Her boots skid on the stone as she tries to brace against the inexorable pull, pebbles and rocks rattling along every step. She can't—the hand wrapped around hers has seized tight as a vise, but she's slipping anyway, and Maker, she can't—

A man's echoing voice, stripped bare of all artifice, wild with fear: "Tav!"

The wind dies. Not slowly, not gradually; it falls off like someone's upturned a glass over the rocky cliff, and Hawke's ears roar in the sudden silence. The wind is gone, and the rift is gone with it as if it had never been, the thunderous clouds that had been swirling above it already dissipating to glimpses of blue morning sky.

"Andraste preserve me," Hawke says, loud in the quiet, and she looks over to see Tav still crouched against the face of the mountain. One of Tav's hands clutches a dagger she'd wedged deep into a stony crevice; the other is still wrapped tight around Hawke's wrist where she'd pulled her away from the tempest.

No sign of Fenris. No sign of the other one—Astarion. A long white scrape in the stone marks where Fenris's sword had sought and failed to find purchase, disappearing at the precise place where the rift had torn itself open.

Gone. Gone, gone. Her heart hammers in her throat, and she indulges in thirty seconds of agonizing grief before she sets it aside, turns, and pulls Tav to her feet.

"Well," Hawke says at last. "Looks like it's just you and me, then. Ready for an adventure?"

"Yes," Tav says, her grip on Hawke's hand like steel, and her eyes blaze. "You and me. Let's get them back."

—

Everything hurts. Everything godsdamned hurts, and Astarion lets out a pained groan as he rolls to his back and drops his arm over his face. His ears ring like bells, and something twinges painfully in his left hip, and the inconvenient sun has decided to blaze right in his face and gods damn it, he'd known they ought to wait for Gale. Wretched wizard and his weak ankles. Wretched Tav and her complete inability—

"Tav," Astarion says, and sits bolt upright.

No Tav. Not even the dark-haired sorcerer with the wide smile. Just that taciturn warrior in leather and half-plate seated on a rock a few feet away, watching Astarion get his bearings, his greatsword slung across his knees and a deeply sour look on his tattooed face. The skies above them are clear and blue as a song.

No Tav. No Hawke. No rift. No plan, and no company besides an irascible stranger with the same sudden look of dawning horror.

"Venhedis."

"Shit."

[broncoburro]

does fg have prosthetics?

(This one was largely written by @lsdoiphin.)

Yes, but they’re nothing special for the time period. So, hooks and pegs for the lower class, with more aesthetically appealing, comfortable, and complex prostheses for those who can afford it.

If you were wondering about the prospect of meur-powered mecha arms, that’s something that would probably be feasible… in the far future. The field of prosthetics is slow to improve, and there are a few reasons the Tri-Kingdom isn’t actively pursuing refinement:

1. Vestur has been at (relative) peace for a long time.

In the real world, big leaps in the field of prosthetics tend to coincide with postwar periods. This only accelerated in the post-industrial age, when war became grisly enough to yield tens of thousands of amputees from a single conflict. Before that, amputees were sporadic enough to be considered unlucky individuals rather than a specific demographic to be accommodated.

In the setting, war on home soil is out of living memory; the Vesturian peninsula has enjoyed peace for more than a hundred years. When the Tri-Kingdom goes to war, it goes to war off-peninsula on its own terms. A foreign enemy’s most gruesome weapons couldn’t hope to match a red conductor’s fire or a green conductor’s brambles. Simply put, they aren’t getting injured as frequently or grievously as their opponents.

2. The work of white practitioners decrease the number of amputations that need to be done in the first place.

Another common reason for amputation is to control severe infection: if the limb’s too far gone, it’s better to have it cleanly removed. (And essentially get a fresh re-roll on the chance/severity of infection, in any age before antibiotics...)

But white meur allows practitioners to remove damaged tissue, repair flesh, and close wounds instantly. This drastically decreases the risk of infection, salvaging limbs which otherwise might not have ever healed properly. Granted, the patient still needs to have access to a white practitioner and have their wounds seen to in a timely manner, but the end result is still a kingdom where less amputations are performed.

Less, but not none.

3. The amputees of the peninsula tend to be common laborers.

Barring unfortunate carriage accidents, it's rare for a nobleman or a commoner of wealth to lose a limb. Most amputations in Vestur are happening in rural areas, or to patients who had to travel/wait a long while in order to be seen by a practitioner. The cultural image of an amputee in Vestur is probably one of the following:

a Southern sailor who developed gangrene out at sea

a Northern frontiersman, who lost a limb to exposure or had an amputation following a hare bite

a Midland farmer from the rural eastern coast who endured some livestock or farm equipment accident

Of these groups, few have the kind of guilder to motivate innovation. Some of them are lucky if they can afford something like a peg or the hook in the first place - it's a large expense. Some will scrimp to get a peg if it allows them to keep working, but these must be commissioned and fitted. For the most part, the poorest will use solutions the local craftsman can make (like crutches) or simply adjust to life with one arm.

The upper class can commission prostheses that allow some movement, but they’re solely mechanic in nature and custom-made to the buyer. Think of the IRL jointed peg legs invented by Ambroise Paré, or the metal hands of the 16th-18th centuries.

In short: it would probably take a large scale war to spark Vestur’s interest in prosthetics. (Either that, or it would need to become a personal issue for a very wealthy nobleman willing to fund research as a dedicated obsession. And the resulting designs would need to be cheap and easily reproducible by local craftsmen.)

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Seth showcasing how to properly handle an infant mimic