#which is real life whatever. but like. there is no slack anywhere :P if I miss something then it just waits until I do it later and piles up

[b-blushes]

‘funny’ side effect of using so much energy to make sure I’ve been doing a good evening routine this past week is that I’ve been so late eating (in terms of what’s normal for me) for so many of my meals this week 🙃

having a lot of ~autism moment~s lately! :P like, wild that the discipline (executive dysfunction/spoons/mental energy) required to just. initiate the sequence of ‘evening routine’ in a timely enough manner to give me enough time to calm down so I can try to sleep less badly has diverted SO much ability for the scheduling in the rest of the day.

I wanna be in slug mode but alas the show must go on

[fundeadasylum]

This Photo of Us Part 3: Chase You Down Until You Love Me

A day late and a dollar short but here’s the third part. This is going to be quite the long fic but I’m not sure how long exactly. Sorry. 

Warnings: emotional distress, emotional abuse and manipulation, gaslighting, descriptions of panic attacks, imprisonment, suffering, dead dove: do not eat

Part 1 / Part 2

*******************

Jake’s car was in the driveway when Dan came home from his shift at the factory, but there was no sign of Jake himself in the house. This in and of itself was not unusual but when Milo told him he hadn’t seen Jake since before he’d left for school that morning, Dan got a little concerned.

He grew more concerned as the hours passed and rain started falling heavier. Milo, already sensing something was wrong, kicked up a fuss about going to bed at all and demanded to wait up for Jake. After some half hearted lecturing, he relented but only on the condition that Dan wake him the second Jake came home. Dan promised he would and sent the teenager to his bedroom, knowing full well that the boy would stay up as long as possible, listening for the front door and fervently texting Cody.

Dan fell asleep on the couch, waiting for the jingle of keys in the door lock that never came.

It was only in the morning that he realized Jake’s house and car keys--which shared a clip and a shark keychain--were hanging in their customary place by the door. Which meant Jake had left the house without his keys and the front door unlocked for who knew how long. Which was not like Jake Pierly at all. If Jake was anything, he was anxious and that anxiety fueled a mild state of paranoia that made sure he’d double check the locks on the doors and windows at night and when he left the house. Triple check on a bad day.

Dan knew Jake almost as well as he knew himself.

When he found Jake’s cellphone ringing to itself in his empty car, Dan felt something ice cold and nasty sink into his stomach.

It was with a heavy heart that he picked up his own phone to dial the police.

----

Milo wasn’t a stupid child.

Sure, he struggled to concentrate on things he didn’t care about in school, his attention was all over the place, and sitting still was a chore and a half. But he wasn’t stupid. He was quite clever when he wanted to be and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what was happening around him.

Jake had disappeared.

He was gone, vanished like smoke in the wind. He had dropped off the face of the planet and no one knew where he’d gone to.

Just like Milo Sr.

Milo watched from his seat on the stairs as Dan talked to the couple of uniformed officers. Their voices were low and didn’t carry very well but once in a while he caught words or phrases from their conversation. He didn’t like what he heard. He couldn’t help but wonder if Dan had been through this once already when Milo’s real dad had gone missing. At least back then he’d had Jake to back him up. Now there was nobody.

With a stubborn sniff, Milo curled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs, burrowing his face into his hoodie sleeves. For as quiet and introverted as Jake tended to be, Milo could distinctly feel the hole left in the house without him. And it ached, it ached so fiercely Milo was sure he could feel it tearing him up from the inside out, physically ripping him open to spill everything he was out into the open for the world to see. It hurt worse than anything, even worse than finding out about his birth dad, and he just didn’t know what to do with the sheer amount of pain that he was absolutely certain was killing him slowly.

“Hey kid,” Milo glanced up through his bangs at a female cop who had come to perch on the stairs beside him, “It’s Milo, right? I’m Paige. You’re worried about your dad, huh?” She smiled at him and his eyes narrowed, “It’ll be okay, we’ll find him and he’ll be home before you--”

“Did you know that on average there are over one-hundred thousand active missing persons cases in the United States at any given time?” Milo’s tone was bitter and logically he knew lashing out at the officer wasn’t the solution, it wasn’t her fault. But the painful burn inside him needed an outlet and she’d given him one,

“Of those,” He continued, the memories of hours of research with Cody spinning around in his mind, “At least half are adults and adult missing persons are less likely to be solved. Last year almost five-hundred thousand missing persons cases were only solved because a body was found. So no offense lady,” He spat the words, sour and heated and stinging his tongue as he glared at her, “But you probably have a better chance of finding my dad dead then you do alive!”

He stood and whirled away, stomping up the stairs with his eyes burning and Dan shouting after him to come back and apologize to the officer. He ignored Dan and slammed the door to his room shut as hard as he could. He’d probably get in trouble for it later if Dan remembered to be mad at him, but Milo could care less. He only had one thing on his mind as he snatched his phone off the bed and swept it open.

(sent 2:14pm) i’m gonna look for jake. you in?

(received 2:15pm) Of course. Meet you out front.

Milo grabbed his backpack from the floor and dumped out his school things, quickly filling it with snacks from the stash in his desk, some medical supplies from the bathroom, and an extra jacket just in case. As an afterthought, he picked up a faded and much loved shark toy from his bed, one that Jake had given to him years ago, and tucked it safely into his bag as well. Then he pulled his hood up and headed down the stairs to the front door. The police were still standing around instead of actually doing anything and Milo scowled at them as he opened the door, letting in a gust of autumn air.

“Milo, where are you going?” Dan’s voice was weaker than Milo was used to hearing and he didn’t dare look because he knew if he saw the look on Dan’s face he wouldn’t be able to set one foot out the door.

“I’m gonna go look for Jake.”

“Young man, I would advise against that.” Said one officer and Milo bristled, hot anger surging in his chest.

“Screw you.” He hissed between clenched teeth and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

“Milo--!” Dan’s cry was cut off as Milo slammed the door shut and hunched his shoulders against the wind. Cody was already waiting for him, hands in his pockets, watching with something that wanted to be pity in his eyes.

Neither of them spoke as they both set off down the sidewalk towards town.

----

“Have you seen this guy? He’s my dad and he’s missing?”

“Excuse me, have you seen this man anywhere?”

“Hi, I’m looking for my dad, have you seen him recently?”

“He looks like this. He’s missing and we’re trying to find him.”

“Have you seen Jake Pierly?”

Milo slumped onto the bench under the covered pavillion in the center of the park. He looked lost and tired, like the life had been slowly draining out of him with every head shake or negative response.

No one had seen Jake.

“Do you think he left?” Milo asked softly, staring at the chipped cement beneath his sneakers, “Do you think it was something I did?”

“He didn’t leave,” Cody said firmly, “He wouldn’t. He cares about you and Dan too much. And he wouldn’t have left all his stuff there anyway.” He nudged his glasses up his nose, wearing a determined frown, “We’ll find him, Milo, I swear. I’m not gonna let you lose another dad.”

Milo hiccuped and angrily swallowed his tears. He didn’t want to cry, not yet. He felt like if he cried then he would be giving up. And no way in hell he was giving up on Jake, not yet, not ever. He knew, he just knew, Jake was out there and he needed help and Milo was going to save him. Because, damn it all, he needed Jake. Dan needed Jake. Their house was not a home without Jake’s quiet presence drifting through it.

“I want--” His voice broke and he had to swallow back the lump of emotion that was rising in his throat, “I wanted so badly to find my real dad. And n-now I feel like I...I feel like this is my fault.”

“Milo, this isn’t your fault!” Cody grabbed his friend’s shoulder, grounding and reassuring, pulling him into a one armed hug, “This isn’t your fault, okay! Whatever happens, it’s nobody’s fault.”

“You can’t know that!”

“But I know it’s not your fault!”

Milo looked up with watery eyes, searching Cody’s furiously determined expression. Cody’s lower lip was quivering and there was an uncertain fear in his gaze, but held Milo’s shoulders with the same steady hand that had had Milo’s back for years.

“Look, I--I know this is scary,” Cody said and his voice was remarkably steady, “And not good. But we’ll get through this. We’ll figure this out and Jake will come home and everything will be okay. It hasn’t even been 24 hours yet. We’re still okay. Say it back to me. Say it’s going to be okay.”

Milo swallowed thickly and said in a voice that wobbled with uncertain emotion,

“Everything is going to be okay.”

----

It had been three days.

Three days of Jake picking at the meals Rosie brought him, if only to keep his strength up. Three days of being subjected to her caring smiles and gentle touches. Three days of being stuck in a basement with nothing to do but stew on his own anger and try and find a way out. Three days of refusing to speak with her no matter what she said or did.

He didn’t know when she’d done but at some point Rosie had removed his button up shirt and casual slacks. She’d replaced them with a black t-shirt and tastefully faded jeans with holes in them. She’d also taken his shoes and socks away, leaving his bare feet to curl on the cold floor. There was a space heater that kept him warm enough but it was still a basement and it was still cold.

His only mercy was that he was left to wander the basement on his own. It wasn’t big but there was room to pace and he had a half bath to use should the need arise. She provided him with snacks (which he didn’t touch) and water (which he did), let him take his heart medicine every day, and promised him that good behavior would earn him more privileges. What those were, Jake didn’t really care. His only goal was to escape.

Of course the first thing he’d tried was the door that led to the stairs but it was heavy and locked from the other side and he had no way to pick it nor lever the bolts from the hinges. The half-bath had no windows and the cement around the pipes by the sink couldn’t be picked away at without tools or visible damage to his own hands.

Which only left the window that was a good two feet out of his reach.

Jake had attempted to drag the bed over to the opposite wall. But even as cheap as it was, it was still too much for him to move by himself, the hollow plywood scraping loudly on the cement and making Jake wince when he’d tried.

He sat on the edge of his bed and glared at the window, hooking one finger into the collar around his neck and giving it an anxious tug. He hated how quickly he’d become accustomed to it being there, a familiar, heavy weight that rested far too easily against his adam’s apple. It reminded him far too much of his brother’s favorite past time, of hands closing around his throat, of his breath choking in his lungs, of the black fuzz crawling at the edges of his vision and--

Jake forced himself to breathe.

His heart was pounding wildly in his chest, adrenaline making his hands shake. Panic. He swallowed hard, ducked his head, pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and rocked back and forth, breathing deeply. The room felt like it contracted around him with each inhale, and expanded outward again with each exhale and he furiously focused his thoughts on the feeling of cool cement under his feet and the subtle pain of the pressure on his eyes. When he’d settled down enough to think clearly, he blinked the stars from his vision and clenched his jaw.

“Fuck this.” He hissed, letting rage replace his fear, letting it burn hot and bright in his veins until he felt like his skin would burn.

Then he grabbed the edge of the bed and dragged it across the room to the window.

The exertion of it was almost too much. Jake collapsed onto the bed with a wheezing gasp, clutching at his chest as his heart thudded painfully under his ribs. He pressed his knuckles into his skin as if that would alleviate the choking agony that squeezed the small muscle inside him.

It felt as if he was laying there for an eternity before he was able to calm himself and breathe again. And then he listened for footsteps upstairs, for the sound of Rosie coming to hear what all the noise was about. She’d gone out several hours before and Jake had no idea when she’d be back. If she walked back in now, he was royally fucked.

No noise. The house was silent.

With a lopsided grin, Jake clambered up onto the bed and reached up to the window. He wrinkled his nose at the dust and dead bugs gathered on the lip of it but he readily ignored them to fumble with the latch. It was a bit of a struggle to twist it into the unlocked position but Jake felt a thrill of victory when he did. Even more so when he pushed the window open and got a breath of fresh air on his face. He sucked in a greedy lungful and shoved the window open further. It wasn’t enough and certainly Dan would never have been able to get through, but Jake thought he might be able to squeeze out if he didn’t mind a few scrapes.

Jake jumped up and clawed through the window, grabbing fistfuls of grass to help pull himself up. His bare feet scraped against the cement wall as he pulled and wriggled. He felt his stomach scrape painfully against the edge of the wall but gritted his teeth and ignored it. It was nothing, it was nothing, it meant nothing in the long run, not when he was breathing in fresh air and there was cold, autumn grass under his palms and he was almost out, his knees banging against the metal frame of the window and--

He was free.

Jake scrambled to his feet, curling his toes in the slowly dying grass, panting for breath as he took a moment to get his bearings. He was out, he was free, he had escaped! The collar might have a tracker on it but he could run. He could run and he could find someone and he could get help and there would be nothing Rosie could do to him. He’d be home, he’d be safe, he’d be with Dan and Milo and everything would be okay!

The crunch of gravel under tires sent a bolt of fear through him.

He should have been running already.

Jake bolted, lunging forward and nearly face planting in the dirt in his panic to get away. He ran for the treeline, knowing he could hide in the forest, knowing he could cut through it to get closer to town.

Agony surged down his neck and exploded out his chest.

With a strangled cry, he tumbled to the ground, hitting it so hard the air rushed out of his lungs. He couldn’t even scream; there was no air to power it and his throat was choked closed with pain. Drool smeared past his lips as his body jerked involuntarily in the grass, limbs twitching, his chest on fire with a crushing pain. He pawed helplessly at the ground in front of him with numb fingers jittering over dry leaves and hidden stones, choking as he tried to gasp through the spit pooling across his tongue, his teeth clenched tight like his jaw was wired shot, his nose and eyes burning as tears and snot streaked down his face.

He barely felt something close around his pant leg and pull him back, dragging him across the grass so his shirt rode up his chest.

But it made the pain stop.

Hands pushed him and he rolled over onto his back, still twitching, still trying to breathe. His heart was stuttering, he could feel it struggling like an old and broken car, and he opened his mouth to call for help, to beg for a hospital. But all that came out was a gargling, wet, choke of sound that made him gag. He couldn’t move, his muscles refused to cooperate, and the panic only made the agony of his fluttering heart worse. A noise that might have been a whimper wheezed out of him with a few more tears.

Rosie’s disappointed face filled his view as she leaned over him, her hair framing her face like a curtain of faded gold. Jake looked up at her with pleading, agonized eyes. She only sighed,

“Oh, my poor little problem son. You really shouldn’t have tried to run away. That collar’s got a tracker and it’s hooked to the underground electric fence around the edge of the property.” She tilted her head, piercings catching the light and glowing like a broken halo, “It’s on the lowest setting but I guess even that was too much for you, huh.”

Jake coughed through teeth that refused to unclench, vision smearing into blurs of color as a fresh wave of tears welled into his eyes. His chest ached, the stinging across his exposed stomach nothing compared to the raw steel sawing through his heart, his lungs, his ribs, his everything.

“This is your fault, you know,” Rosie knelt beside him, brushing her hand along his face and he gagged with revulsion, back arching as his stomach turned, “If you had just stayed put, none of this would have happened. I’m sorry that you made this decision, baby, but you have no one to blame but yourself.”

His eyelids fluttered, his breath a whisper of a rasp that scraped his throat. He couldn’t feel his fingers or his legs or anything but the hot touch of Rosie’s hands on his face. Through fading vision, he stared at her, begging for mercy from so many things.

He saw her smile sadly, pity shining in her eyes, pity and disappointment.

And then his heart stopped.

[serendipitousoracle]

Mixtape n wardrobe for like... ALL the ocs?

[♡ OC ask meme ♡]

i will give you six (6) ocs.

Egeire Mahariel:

mixtape: 5 songs that describe your OC(s) or songs they themselves would like

1. “Love Love Love” - Of Monsters And Men (basically The song for Egeire/Zevran tbh. love and reluctance and duty and fear and pining, which eventually breaks down as despite it all they keep getting in deeper and deeper until Egeire finally goes fuck this and for once decides not to sacrifice everything he wants to hold onto)

2. “Rather Be” - Clean Bandit (happy fluffy love song for Eg’s sweet, loyal attachment to various love interests. he is devoted and adoring and when he is with the one he loves he would never want to be anywhere else)

3. “Wolves Without Teeth” - Of Monsters And Men (wqieujb?? devotion and consumption and non-physical wounds idk how to explain)

4. idk. something emo? and then instead insert “Not Gonna Die” - Skillet bc it’s really the message Egeire should be taking home

5. and then as throwback to something he’d like maybe smth Gorillaz or Disturbed just for “smth that would probably be on Egeire’s music playlists somewhere“

wardrobe:what’s your OC’s style like?                                  

In DA-centric universes Egeire ends up becoming fairly all-or-nothing re: clothing. at the end of the Blight, into Warden-Commanderdom, and to some extent post-Wardenhood, he is either in full armor and weaponry (with some extra flash and ideally some small piece of elfiness in the Awakening period), or when he is completely alone and not paranoid and with people he trusts in a space he feels safe in, he is wearing like comfortable loose-fitting pants and that’s about it.

In more modern AUs Egeire wears more like… practical clothes, probably? flannel and open button-ups over tank tops with sturdy pants and tough boots, whatever clothes have been Gifted to him over the years, annnnnd at-home muscly shirtlessness with loose sweatpants

Also he looks so great in lace

Under Cut: Egeria Surana, Flytter the Junior Historian, Cyrron Mirevas, Soveliss Liadon, Grey Surana

Egeria Surana

mixtape: 5 songs that describe your OC(s) or songs they themselves would like

1. “Arms” - Christina Perri (still p much the First and Most Egeria/Alistair song. being Wardens is one rough thing and then the elven mage and the bastard prince is harder still. it works out in the end, but….)

2. “Retrograde” - James Blake (ouch that isolation and your friends are gone, and your friends won’t come, so show me where you fit. i’ll wait, so show me why you’re strong– i’ll wait, we’re alone now)

3. “You May Be Right” - Billy Joel (whoops it’s The DenRia Song)

4. “Beth’s Theme” (Broadchurch OST) - Ólafur Arnalds(Ria’s canon is just so like…. sad. unintentionally sad. quietly, wordlessly sad.)

5. “Stolen Dance” - Milky Chance / “Budapest” - Georga Ezra / “Break Stuff” - Limp Bizkit (just kind of misc songs for Ria Chilling Around The House)

wardrobe:what’s your OC’s style like?

DA: a mix of aesthetic robes and practical ones, some with long flowing pieces and embroidered flowers that gradually transition to black dust, wearing her mage blood and magic specialties quite literally on her sleeve, some that are more armor than robe (bc spellsword/arcane warrior) but with elements of robes nonetheless. Dresses more lightly in private for ease of movement, with fur shawls and fine shoes and all. may be talked into some sort of short top + long skirt look by her fawning husband. in private.

Modern: light blouses and either loose-ish pants or long skirts, fond of flower motifs, plenty of like cardigans and soft jackets and things that generally perfect that sweet and trustworthy and caring outward demeanor she wields like empathy made tangible and precise. also has regular graphic tees and jeans for gardening.

Flytter

mixtape: 5 songs that describe your OC(s) or songs they themselves would like

1. “Little Talks” - Of Monsters And Men (grief is what drives Flytter from home to wrap themself up entirely in their work… for better or worse, despite the best wishes of those who cared about them)

2. “Non-Stop”, “Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story”, … - Hamilton the Musical (um excuse me if somebody made a musical about Egeire Mahariel/WAWsquad/The Fifth Blight Hero you fucking know Flytter would be all over that)

3. “Radioactive” - Imagine Dragons (radioactivity… lingering Blight corruption… same difference, right?)

4. “Heavy In Your Arms” - Florence + the Machine (not entirely happy with this pick but struggling to find something for just– that kind of background gnawing of the slow, slow, painful death seeping into their being, the constant pain and the losing fight to the ebb of the corruption and their inability to keep it effectively treated or soothed or just. nesdfds.)

5. “Beyond the Veil” - Lindsey Stirling (trippy instrumentals for recording things and remembering dreams? sure why not. clear Veil joke? woo!)

wardrobe:what’s your OC’s style like?

.DA: robes, again. robes with a focus on complete head-to-toe coverage and not irritating rough patches of skin or what not too much. Something comfortable enough to sleep in. Not really much variety once they lock themself away in Kinloch Hold rebuilt.

Modern: light shirts tied up and semi-professional vests and the ability to quickly create a skirt in any situation when they need to really move in a hurry

Cyrron Mirevas

mixtape: 5 songs that describe your OC(s) or songs they themselves would like

1. “Enemies” - Shinedown (i didn’t even have to think about this one everyone hates Cyrron except like…. you jay. only you. everyone else goes ‘ew’ or ‘why are his eyes sockets not full of sharp/sharp-ish utensils’ when i bring him up. only you cheer when he shows up or hand him over to tentacle monsters but)

2. “Simple Man” - Lynyrd Skynyrd (and the complete flipside– a simple kind of man, not rushing, revering the gods, settling down with a bondmate and having children… it was the life Cyrron intended to live, not exactly a soft or warm or gentle man by any means, but a simple man. Then he lost everything, and survived Vir Banal’ras, and we have present day Cyrron.)

3. “The Dalish Elves Encampment” - Dragon Age: Origins OST, or something (this is basically a placeholder to state: what do you think super traditional Dalish elf music sounds like? for Ferelden Dalish if you want to get specific maybe. Basically, whatever Traditional Dalish Music is, that is all Cyrron himself cares to listen to. That’s it. He hoards it. maybe even plays an instrument. the world will never know.)

4. i swear to god i’m not putting “Closer” on this list SO HOW ABOUT THAT BODIES SONG HUH IT’S SUPER MURDERY N STUFF

5. “Indestructible” - Disturbed (fitting, since it was on Egeire’s list, and he definitely got that from somewhere. really, Cyrron is indestructible to a point that even upsets himself until all the venom he sank into others finally comes back to flood his veins)

wardrobe:what’s your OC’s style like?

DA: Armor. Sturdy Dalish armor, long updated and cycled through with parts, blades on hand at all times, each meticulously well-kept and menacingly. The only time he’s not in armor is if he’s for some reason in disguise to get closer to someone to kill them.

Modern: ranges from business semi-casual to business ultra-formal and nowhere below that range, at least not for wearing out in the daylight. Cyrron mostly has his crisp dress shirts and pressed black slacks and all that easy “I am wealthy and important and you don’t need to know what I do for a living” class, even despite the clear vallaslin, but he also has a variety of tougher garb and more lowkey clothing for when his real line of work comes calling in the night for a slit throat or a poisoned drink.

Soveliss Liadon

mixtape: 5 songs that describe your OC or songs they themselves would like

1. “Addicted to Love” - Florence + the Machine (possibly the earliest defining song for my vague thoughts of ‘Soveliss and his feylock patron’. Soveliss insists he knows what he’s doing! He just has to keep his wits around him! … gods, though, he is so lonely.)

2. “Carousel” - Melanie Martinez (have I mentioned Sov is really super doomed? And it’s all fun and games/‘Til somebody falls in love/But you’ve already bought a ticket/And there’s no turning back now)

3. “Believer” - Imagine Dragons, & “Whispers in the Dark” - Skillet (the main brain-chewing songs for fiendlock!au Soveliss)

4. “Dust Bowl Dance” and “Broken Crown” - Mumford & Sons (hypothetical #mood for potential Angry parts of potential Soveliss character/story arc “You haven’t met me, I am the only son.”)

5. “A Martyr for My Love for You” - The White Stripes (i’m just saying if anybody else dies before we finish this adventure Sov is gonna start getting real antsy about forming attachments to normal, mortal people)

Bonus 6. Welp. (a ghost monk floats through Soveliss’ room as Sov puts up a bard band poster up in his room in the monastery like “soooooovelllllissssss whaaaat isssss thissss” and teenage Sov is just Instantly Teenage Annoyed “MUSIC, JUST LIKE EVERYTHING ELSE, IS CHANGING, DAD” (all the monks in the monastery are Dad sov has like 2 dozen dads it’s a time))

BONUS 2 EDIT EDITION: i forgot “Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up)” - Florence + the Machine was also a Sov inspiration song whoops

wardrobe:what’s your OC’s style like?

D&D: Soveliss at the moment generally has his greyscale Acolyte of Kelemvor robes/garb, some dark leather armor, maybe some shiny beads or baubles, and his gorgeous blond hair (it is probably literally enchanted t b h), buuuut he has no real exposure to like….. choice of clothing let alone fashion. idk we’ll see if aub ever gets us somewhere cool where I can get him a truly art-worthy outfit or if he dies first i guess.

Modern: ????????????

Grey Surana

mixtape: 5 songs that describe your OC(s) or songs they themselves would like

1. “Stray Italian Greyhound” - Vienna Teng (whoops first song is a Grey/Tamaris song. but: Grey is every bit the tongue-tied hopeless romantic that Egeire is, except he somehow works himself up about it even harder bc in a way Grey can be summed up as Eg But Extra (i love this song tho))

2. “I of the Storm” - Of Monsters And Men (wh o o ps it’s another Grey/Tam song. but it is also a good sort of song for Grey’s general insecurities, still carried over if reflected differently from Egeire’s. not measuring up. not being loved. feeling trapped. are you really gonna love me when i’m gone? are you really gonna need me when i’m gone? i fear you won’t; i fear you don’t)

3. “In My Sleep” - Mystery Skulls (can’t find a good video but you can’t do this like i do/i fucking wrote this in my sleep is just. 1. it mostly inspired an au. 2. take Egeire’s mild peacock tendencies and turn them up to fucking 11 and you might start to approach Grey levels of pride and showboating. tempted to put “Magic” on this list but just. it’s so great. just go look it up.)

4. “Through Glass” - Stone Sour (something quieter. bringing back that feeling of isolation from Ria, but a bit more self-imposed– putting up walls of glass to keep a distance from everything and ending up sitting alone inside his own head, which really could account for a lot of his doubts. a negative feedback loop of sorts. but he is so used to it.)

5. “Work Song” - Hozier / “Iris” - Goo Goo Dolls / “Rather Be” - Clean Bandit (just some more love songs for the hopeless romantic bc I’m p sure I’ve spent like 8 hours on this ask and I’m dead now)

wardrobe:what’s your OC’s style like?

DA: so fashionable. whether he’s the Circle Ambassador or the Warden-Commander, Grey is dedicated to keeping up with trends and edging out ahead of them where he can. It’s a careful balance to keep, neither being so compliant as to be invisible or stepping so far out of line that he’s branded “outsider“ again, but he loves it. Grey is all about politics, wealth, luxury, prestige– whatever the Circle and the Chantry wanted to deny him, he will take, one way or another.

Modern: so fashionable. if it’s In he is at least looking into getting his hands on it, if he doesn’t already have it. as the Circle is traded out for more like…. slicksharp white collar big business laddering-climbing type ambition, so too are robes traded for suits, and so some manner of dress shirt + jacket/blazer/etc + slacks/dress pants/etc becomes his norm. Whether he’s climbing or charming or sleeping his way to the top, he enjoys surrounding himself with luxury and learning how to take advantage of it.Is still a sweetheart who looks nice in lace though.