#there is quite a bit before this

[dyrewrites]

Before Deluca -- a little dance, as a treat

In fact, everyone was there.

But while it elicited more quiet growls from Lucient, the sight of the room we entered delighted me. As did the chandelier lighting everything in colors I did not know artificial light could create. They danced, those lights, and in spite of so many eyes latching onto us as our boots clicked across the hard floors...far more were focused on one another, on hands and feet whirling about the room.

“They’re dancing,” I whispered and the giddy tone of my voice teased Lucient’s eyes up to mine, and I scoffed at them, “What, I like dancing.”

“Do you now,” he cooed, all his irritation melting to something too close to lust for so public a venue—granted, a glance around to those not dancing told me otherwise. Pulling away from me, he bowed, extending a hand and announced—just loud enough to be heard by everyone, “eh bien, monsieur le taureau, may I have this dance?”

“Sì, è possibile, signore gattino,” I answered, bowing in return and accepting his hand.

The question of why use our native tongues to ask if ‘mister bull’ and ‘mister kitty’ wanted to dance was asked, eventually. But neither of us had a reason beyond the flourish of it. Those watching certainly appreciated it, however, as did many others who hadn’t been but began to after.

And what are we dancing, sogno mio? I asked as we walked to the center of the dance floor, where many were gathered—though they allowed us room.

You’re the one that likes to dance, treasure, He winked beneath his mask and laughed when I released his hand and backed away, taking a position better left to bull-fighters than bulls.

“Give ‘em something jaunty, Lop!” A woman in an owl mask shouted, and the conductor—in a rabbit mask—nodded before signaling the band to switch from the dreary tune they had been playing to something jaunty.

I was unaccustomed to full bands as well and it took a moment of obvious staring before Lucient cleared his throat, causing a small wave of giggling through our ‘audience’.

Sighing, I turned back at him, gawking instead at the lithe curve of his pose too far away from my hands, well, my dream, it appears we’re to be the entertainment.

He bowed again before approaching, aren’t we always?

Strings chose our dance for us, though I doubt any in the room expected us to actually perform it—despite the debauchery occurring in the corners, most did not expect such an overt display on the dance floor.

I took his hand and he took mine and we stepped lively little steps side-by-side to the beat of hand drums. Midway across the dance floor, the flute began the melody and I lifted him, turning with him held tight to my chest—his legs swinging—to the sounds of gasps and excited murmurs before returning his feet to the floor only to lift and turn him again in the other direction.

We pranced to the other side of the space cleared for us after another two lifts and turns, bowing to the sounds of all those giggles before doing it again back the other way; prance, lift, turn, prance, and bow. However, we earned a few extra gasps as we switched places on that second go. He lifted me—which was a decidedly more impressive feat to anyone unaware of his strength.

It took a great deal longer than one might expect, the back and forth, for jaunty as the music sang it was still quite slow and we did need to keep to its rhythm.

But on the third go, I earned a gasp from Lucient as well as the crowd, by catching him in my other arm when I lifted him. And, cradling him close while he laughed, I twirled once around, did a simple left-right step and danced back to the entry before bowing to the crowd—his arms tight around my neck.

We exited to the sounds of raucous laughter and a few drunken cheers.

They will be far too busy talking about that to look for you now, I told him, after hiding us behind an especially pale statue that stood far too tall for how naked it was.

Still in my arms, Lucient slipped his mask up and pulled close enough to lift mine before kissing me. Soft that kiss, soft, sweet and painfully quick as footsteps forced our masks back down.

They were stuttered and mixed with slurred giggling.

“Did you see them,” a woman was telling another, “so pretty, and that dance, you think, you think,” she hiccupped and I shuffled to avoid them as they wobbled around the statue, “we could do that?”

“The dance,” the other woman asked, “or the pretty, because you’re already pretty, so pretty.”

Adorable, Lucient’s thoughts all but swooned, young, drunken love...we may want to find another place to hide, treasure, this tends to lead to corsets on the floor.

He was proven right in mere seconds as the second woman’s lips latched to the first while drink-softened fingers attempted to remove the many layers of their gowns.

Swallowing my laughter, I ran with Lucient in my arms back to the room he had so ached to enter. When he noticed, he shook his head, he won’t be in there now, but if you’re willing...I saw one of the others sneak off during our performance.

“Or we could follow suit,” I nodded toward the corridor behind us, the statue beyond, which sang then with the moans of drunken love.

“Later,” he promised, hand teasing my mask, “my warm...perfect treasure.”

Those damnable eyes, shining in the dark holes of that too-innocent mask, eyes he knew I cherished...would follow into anything. Or he should have, but if he did, truly did, there wouldn’t have been a claim on me. It gnawed, that claim, but its teeth were yet dull with his use of it and so I set him down and took his hand, allowing him to lead me to life deserving of my wrath.

[vaguely-concerned]

the fact that irving canonically survives through the end of asunder to be at wynne's funeral is so fucking funny to me. nothing but love and respect for MY unstoppable cockroach morally grey machiavellian mage dad!!! he's survived in his position through multiple attempted rites of annulment and blood mage plots popping up left right and center around him. the chantry keeps trying to stamp him out but his dodge game is simply out of this world, divine. civil wars, political machinations and minefields, chantry atrocities, this wily old motherfucker is dodging and weaving his way through it all, not-quite-no-hits-taken-running-it-but-honestly-close-enough-under-the-circumstances style. if solas does succeed in tearing down the veil I would fully believe that one of the like three people still alive at the end of it all would be a very weary 90 year old first enchanter irving going 'oh this shit again huh'. the maker has cursed him for his hubris and his paperwork is never finished (affectionate, it's fine he canonically loves paperwork)

[stark-lord]

The Monty Eyebrow™️

for @purgatory606

[tainebot01]

So… how we feeling about these new names?

[expelliarmus]

[rushinintolove]

insp:

[benevolenterrancy]

May your hardened heart be woken By the soft and distant song Of all you left here unspoken All the shards we keep stepping on - Take this body home Take this body home Call the wind, and let her know Take this life outgrown Take this broken soul Call the stars, call them all And take it high, take it far, take it home

[allenwalkerbitch]

I cannot believe I've been reading D.gray-man for all these years and it JUST now hit me that Caterina's full name—Caterina Eve Campbell—is a fucking Adam and Eve reference. The Millennium Earl's Noah name is Adam. It's right there.

And Caterina raises the two kids "Adam" becomes as her own children. Adam and Eve have two sons, and one of them kills the other one when they grow up. Mana and Nea are fucking Cain and Abel.

Local woman reads the catholicism manga, is shocked to discover it contains catholicism.

[solfinite]

hello finally putting my au stuff down on paper after several months.. also finally chose a name for it !! it's called Sonic Aeroventure :)

(+xtra traditional sketches below)

[shesmore-shoebill]

the only correct way to react to news about how you might need to kiss your coworkers for a show is to immediately. lunge towards your coworker like you're about to kiss them

[sanska]

Brother may I have some öats

[triglycercule]

nightmare viewing the murder time three as little toys but more in like a little spoiled kid kinda way. because it would be funny and if you take into the account that he was like 6 before getting corrupted and do some mental loopholes it would be even funnier. like these are his dolls (killer dust and horror) and this is their barbie dreamhouse (his castle). they all have to stay in one room because nightmare needs to keep his toys in a toy box. the toys only ever come out when he wants to play but oh damn it they keep on breaking out!! silly toys,,, and then he locks them into the room again.

nightmare serves them food with plastic tea cups and plastic plates and there is no food. there is no tea. they have to imagine the food because dolls can't literally eat. there are food containers and stuff in the house but its all just a bunch of empty boxes. horror starts tweaking out after he scavenges the kitchen and finds a cereal box and milk carton that have NOTHING in it (why keep empty boxes?????)

they have to go where he wants them to go. nightmare gets to dress them up in whatever he wants because theyre his dolls they can wear anything he wants. it gets incredibly embarrassing when the trio is forced to wear pink pretty dresses and fight like that. or they have to go around the castle doing stupid fucking roleplays and it gets weird because theyre being forced to reenact a bullying scene and nightmare's giving them the death stare if they don't get it right (is this projection. this must be some form of coping mechanism dust theorizes)

and then you know nightmare's not exactly the best toy owner so he loses a few of his dolls here and there. maybe they get destroyed when he was playing a bit too rough with them! (killer dies in battle for like the 29th time) but its okay because he can just go back on down to the store (something new) and buy. wait no. steal another doll and then put it back in his dreamhouse and BOOM he has a full set again!! so sweet so cute. his dolls don't have consciousness what are you talking about theyre begging to be let go?? that's all just your imagination. what do you mean you're asking about the several slowly dying bodies with removed arms or legs in his dungeon. oh that's just where the broken but not yet destroyed toys go dw theyre fine its humane

[cockroachesunite]

And now for something completely different

[fictionadventurer]

There's something about reading really great writing that's so relaxing. You can just sit back and let the words wash over you, knowing that you can trust the writer.

[bamsara]

Now I understand all those boomer 'don't talk go me before I've had my coffee' memes because I'm 30 hours without coffee/caffeine right now in an attempt to quit again and the withdrawl systems are pounding headache and making my vision go blurry in one eye. Shit sucks but we shall prevail

[revasserium]

update on this enemies!!! to lovers zoro fic im attempting to write:

i am at 7.7k words and reader has JUST joined the crew. im considering making this a multi-chap. will likely probably only be 2-3 chapters, but... i think splitting it up makes the most sense.

here's a sneak peak beneath the cut:

“You — you used to be… someone else,” he says, panting as he steadies himself against a sharp jut of moonlit rocks. Behind you, the ocean churns, dark and foaming as it throws itself onto the jagged reefs.

You lick your lips, wiping a smear of blood from your cheek. Your chest heaves with the exertion, but there’s a pale, flickering ache behind your eyes that sets Zoro’s whole body on edge.

He shivers as you grin, savage and unrecognizable as the tiny girl with mochi-round cheeks who had once upon a time offered him sweets in a hand-woven basket.

“Yeah? Well — so did you.”

----

but uhm ? pls comment if you'd like to be tagged when the first chapter goes up?