#perhaps add a few embellishments

[kindaorangey]

just had some thoughts about storytelling and escapism

#thunder rambles #feel free to ignore i just need to write this out #so we all know that when you experience a Perfect Moment in life. like when stuff just aligns in the right way to make you enjoy a moment #a day a week or whatever #youll often say oh it feels like a movie it feels like a sticom w/e #and trying to manufacture moments in accordance with that/chasing after idyllic My Life Is A Movie moments can be bad for u #but i just. idk i just wonder if its a self perpetuating thing #like people experience these Perfect Moments irl and find them so compelling they. for example. tell other people about them #perhaps add a few embellishments #maybe even try and record it in some way so the experience may be shared beyond your death #basically im emotional about the human proclivity for storytelling again

[izvmimi]

cw: fantasy!au shoto x princess!reader, implied quasi-arranged marriage, some place names i made up for my au <3

Court ladies, particularly the ones that are of your age, marriage-eligible and plagued by thoughts of wedded bliss, are notorious for embellishing stories. Especially those that concern men, especially those that concern those rich and powerful men, and most of all those who are thought to be blessed with powerful magic.

The prince who hails from the Terras Magi far away, whose personal history already sounds like the stuff of fairytales, is one of these bountiful sources of mystery and fantasy. Third in line to the throne after the original crown prince of their hidden kingdom went mad and after the second prince disappeared into the night, the mage prince is thought to have strategically kept himself hidden away from the remainder of the continent, declining to partake in the many royal conferences held over the year. Few have seen him in the flesh, aside from the reported occasional meetings with prince Bakugou of the highlands, who somewhat begrudgingly claims to be his friend. 

However, that changes tonight. You will meet him, and you are expected to charm him, as princess of Phulblume, to consider forge a stronger alliance with that part of the world that has remained closed off and uninterested in the much more mortal remainder - 

and there is no greater alliance than matrimony.

Yet,  the thought of courtship tires you immensely. You’ve been in love before, and lost it, accepting that a relationship between a future Queen and her Knight would cause more harm than good; your previously furtive glances, held too long across the court of flowers, have now been reduced to averse, split second looks. You cannot bear to lay eyes on him and neither can he on you. 

Love is laid to rest, and you expect not to be impressed by another man ever again.

And yet, the mage prince is everything you’d heard and more.

The prince arrives with his older sister in tow, who watches him carefully, not to protect him but as though to mind his manners for him. He bows before the throne where your father and mother sit, where you stand in polite wait and then curtsy.

As he introduces himself to the court, you find yourself waiting for him to look at you. He doesn’t immediately, and you notice the red and white of his hair, starker in contrast to his sister’s gently swept locks. She is radiant despite the gentle frost that follows her, and it is reminiscent of the first snow of the season, the kind that is too gentle to accumulate but warns you that storms may approach soon. She turns to you and smiles, and you curtsy politely, your cheeks warming. 

Then he turns, as though instinctively following his sister’s lead, and he sees you. There is a split second of hesitation as your eyes meet. He forgets to bow and you forget to curtsy, perhaps because you are both feeling out each other with your souls. 

You are earth and he is both water and flame. 

You catch yourself first, starting your curtsy, and he takes your hand and bows deeply, his eyes falling to the ground at your feet. 

“I am pleased to meet you, your Highness.”

The pleasure is all mine, you think and forget to say. His voice reminds you of the gentle crackle of firewood on cold nights as a child, sat comfortably in the lap of your mother as she reads your favorite book. 

His sister watches carefully, and you think of morning dew. 

“I am glad you have arrived safely,” you can hear your father, the King, announce. Prince Shoto has not stopped looking at you, although your gloved fingers no longer touch. Princess Fuyumi nudges him gently, then speaks first.

“We are thankful to have been invited to your kingdom on behalf of our country,” she cuts in when Shoto remains mute. He seems to snap back into attention at the sound of her voice. He nods. 

“We look forward to tonight’s gala and to what you have to show us in Phulblume,” he adds.

He glances at you again, and you look away, your face warming, and wonder if it’s his magic, or something else.

#shoto x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #fantasy!au shoto x reader #mimi's notes #daydreams: bnha #thoughts: shoto

[freesia-writes]

Hey there,

congrats on your 500 milestone. If I may put in a request, could you perhaps do: "Don't ever do that again! You have no idea what it does to me…" with Wrecker. Love seeing how writers tackle the big guy's main weakness.

Cheers,

Hi! Hello! Hey! Remember this request from like six frickin weeks ago?! ;) I got wildly derailed by Sharp Edges blossoming off of Lightwise's Crosshair request, but bada bing bada boom... I'm BACK baby! So thank you so much for your patience, and I hope this is everything you ever wanted it to be. It really made my heart swell while writing it. All the puppy dog eyes for our sweet big boy!

Wrecker x Reader Word Count: 3.1k

You’d been serving at the cafe for years, having perfected your duties down to mindlessly rote repetition. The customers and cooks loved you equally, with your sugary-sweet disposition and affinity for lavishing anyone and everyone with affection that left them feeling as though they were floating on the clouds. You’d long since abandoned your hopes at romance, after a trail of failed relationships left you jaded and insecure, and had instead resorted to content yourself with a quiet life of work, reading, and occasional travel. The cafe was centrally located on a variety of trade routes that kept it bustling with interesting characters, bringing news and stories, often quite embellished, of the galaxy beyond the diner’s crumbling brick walls.

The bell on the door chimed cheerfully one morning, and as you looked up with a bright smile to greet the arrivals as usual, your eyes widened as you took in the hulking mass of a man that squeezed inside. You’d seen almost every shape and size of creature over the years, but his apparently human appearance was a stark contrast to his sheer brawn, made even more unique by his seeming lack of an eye and the spidery scar tissue that branched out from his ear across his face. 

“Well hello, sugar,” you purred out of habit, sidling up to him with a coffee pot in your hand, “Haven’t seen you in here before.”

“Uh, yeah,” he said slowly, seeming to still be groggy from sleep as he ran a large hand over his bald head, “Just had a minute to grab something to eat…” His eyes roved across the setting before him: two long rows of cushy booths, ragged from the endless cycle of hungry patrons sliding in and out of them, and an endless supply of decor and memorabilia scattered across the walls and shelves -- photos, trinkets, signs, plants… He snapped out of his distracted gazing when you laid a gentle hand on his forearm, gesturing toward the counter. 

“Why don’t you grab a seat up there and I’ll be right over?”

He grunted his thanks in a deep, throaty voice, shuffling to his assigned seat and completely dwarfing the stool as he settled down upon it. The menu looked like a business card in his hands as he perused it, and when you finished making the rounds of refilling thick ceramic coffee mugs, you slid the carafe back under the warmer and turned to face him. 

“Anything strike your fancy, big boy?” you asked, pet names falling from your lips as naturally as breathing. He seemed surprised by it though, and looked up at you with a slightly baffled expression. His lifted eyebrows widened his eyes, shifting a battle-hardened stare into a disarmingly innocent curiosity, and you were shocked to feel a little flip in your chest. 

“I… ah… I think I’d like this…” he said slowly, pointing to precisely what you would have chosen for him. You nodded, jotting it down in slight relief at the return to normal interaction, “And… could I add this too, please?” You followed his finger and raised your eyes to his, smiling warmly, and you could swear you saw the tiniest hint of red creep across his scar-speckled cheeks.

“Of course,” you answered, giving his hand a pat. “Might take a few extra minutes because Mo is a little swamped back there, but you just sit tight and that will be right out. Can I get you some caf in the meantime?” 

He glanced down at the mug on the counter, untouched beside the silverware and napkin, and raised his eyes back to yours with an almost childish sheepishness, “Actually, do you have a fizz?” 

Your grin broke your lips apart into genuine delight, and you chuckled fondly as you turned toward the refrigerator behind. “I do indeed,” you affirmed, popping the cap off and sliding the curved bottle across the counter to him. “Be back soon, honey.”

You’d grown busy quickly after that, with a rush of patrons that all seemed to have decided to arrive at the same time, and as you bustled about the diner, gliding effortlessly between tables and your coworkers, you were unaware of the stolen glances that were sent your way from the counter. When his plates finally appeared with a ding on the warming shelf, you ran them over with an apologetic tilt of the head. He was nothing but grace and patience, however, again giving you pause at the kind energy he exuded. You were curious to learn more about this new visitor, but there wasn’t a minute to spare, and after a flurry of orders taken, guests seated, and tables cleaned, you looked back to discover the stool was empty. Next to the immaculately-cleaned plates sat his bill, along with a handful of credits on it to cover the total as well as a tip. You were surprised to note the sinking feeling of disappointment, but had no time to dwell on it as the breakfast rush was still in full swing. 

It was nearly a month later when he appeared again, and you had almost forgotten about his initial visit, writing it off as one of the many single customers that would drop in and never be seen again. But as the perky ding announced his arrival, you watched him amble to the same seat at the counter, catching your eye with a grin and a wave. It was later this time -- the quiet lull between morning and afternoon -- and a disproportionate eagerness bubbled up within as you trotted over to greet him. 

“Hi handsome!” you said brightly, again feeling light-headed at the puppy-dog eyes and bashful crooked grin that painted his face in response, “You’re back!”

“Yeah, we pass through here every so often…” he answered, fiddling with the corner of the menu underneath his fingernail. You had some time to spare, and leaned on your elbows, falling into easy conversation about the menu, the diner, and his travels. 

“I never caught your name, sweetheart,” you said suddenly, tilting your head as you studied his features.

“Wrecker,” he said, in a mixture of pride and bemusement. You laughed, all joy and no mockery, clapping your hand over his own as it sat in a fist on the counter.

“Of course,” you exclaimed, reveling in the perfectly-fitting name for such a hulking beast of a man. “I imagine you’re quite the formidable force, aren’t you?” Your tone was light and playful, and he was taken aback for a mere second before he lowered his chin and gave you a more determined look. 

“You could say that,” he said in a low voice, and you felt your stomach twist in a quick clench that made you inhale sharply. 

He began to make a regular appearance at your counter, never in any regular rhythm but sporadic visits peppered throughout the weeks. You found yourself making excuses to touch him more, leaning against him when you took his order from his side, brushing your fingers across his shoulders as you passed by to ask if he wanted a refill, and resting your arm on the counter right next to his when you both bent over the menu in a silly excuse to be close -- he ordered the same thing every time. He watched you, too, when you weren’t looking, taking in the way you coddled each customer, laughing at their jokes and patting them on the back, bestowing nicknames and meaningless affections indiscriminately. 

You began to give him little extras as well -- kitchen mistakes or “accidental” slips of your own hand that would result in a plate of fresh fruit or an extra bottle of fizz that had been mistakenly opened and was unable to be put back -- and wiped the tables as quickly as you could to glean every spare minute to listen to his stories. When he showed up one day with an entire arm bandaged to his side, as well as a scattering of small patches covering parts of his face, you felt a disproportionate surge of fear and protectiveness. 

“What happened?” you gasped, reaching for his cheek without thinking. He shrugged dismissively, casting a glance to the ground as though he were getting in trouble.

“It’s nothing,” he said, “Workplace hazard, you know…” 

“You’ve got to be careful, sweet boy,” you murmured, stroking the side of his face before dropping your hand, not missing the heat that radiated off of him. “Can’t have you blowing yourself up out there.” 

“You can’t do that…” Wrecker began, but his words were lost as you were whisked away. You’d turned to answer a call from the back, and he had shuffled to his counter seat, touching the spot on his cheek with his own hand and a soft expression.

A few more visits came and went, punctuated with jokes and stories, playful banter and comfortable chatter. The morning rush had died down, with a handful of tables remaining hunched over their plates. A sharp voice broke through the hubbub, catching your attention. 

“Oy! Get over here!” A hand waved from the corner booth, where a motley crew of Weequay pirates and humans sat with one of the most lumpy-headed Twi’leks you’d ever seen. You lowered your brows, approaching the table warily with a steaming carafe of caff in your hand. You weren’t one to take any ill treatment, and were just as happy throwing someone out on their ass as you were making them blush with your saccharine praises. 

“Problem, fellas?” you crooned, pursing your lips as your eyes roved from one to the next. 

“Yeah, you’re takin’ way too long!” said one of the pirates, baubles tinkling on his head and chest. “Our food’s getting cold while you’re drooling over the counter at that big lump!” He jerked his head toward Wrecker, who was still and unmoving, eyes fixed on the situation. 

“Your food isn’t ready yet, honey” you returned evenly, pulling some cream cups and sugar packets from your apron pocket and scattering them across the table before topping off their mugs. “Why don’t you enjoy a few more sips of caf, and it’ll be out before you know it.”

The Twi’lek picked up one of the creamer pods, inspecting it for a moment with a malicious glint in his eye, then turned and flung it right at your face, where it bounced off your forehead and fell on the ground. Your gasp of surprise sent him into peals of laughter, and the others joined in. 

“Why don’t you go get our food before we make you regret coming to work today?” one of the humans jabbed, and the next thing you knew, you were being shoved aside by one strong arm. Wrecker had appeared behind you, jostling forward to place himself between you and the table at the last vitriolic utterance, and he rose to his full height, cracking his knuckles as he looked at each of them in turn. 

“Oh look, big old loverboy is here to--” the Weequay never finished his nasally taunt, instead finding himself lifted by the scruff of the neck and tossed straight behind the counter, where he crashed into a trash can and a pile of empty bottles that clattered around his crumpled form. His cronies flew to their feet immediately, with as much intimidation as they could muster in the awkward movements of getting out of a booth, and banded together to face Wrecker with faces set in grim resolution. The diner grew quiet, a thick tension settling into the air, as the other customers watched with apprehension.

“Anyone else?” he invited, eyebrows set low in a menacing stare. 

“Wrecker,” you whispered, pulling on his arm from behind, “You’re going to destroy the entire restaurant.” He hesitated, tilting his head to indicate he’d heard you, then looked back to the snarling band of insulted hotheads before him. 

“Yeahhhhh, don’t mess up her pretty little restaurant!” the Twi’lek mocked, making Wrecker’s decision for him. He moved like a flash, swiping his arms out to the sides and taking advantage of their neatly-lined up stance to smack all their heads together in one sickening, echoed thud that dropped all four to the ground immediately, passed out cold. You gasped, taking a step back at the unexpected movement, mouth open in shock and awe. A few patrons burst into laughter and applause, cheering from their booths, and the cooks yelled a chorus of approval from behind the thin window that opened to the kitchen. Wrecker slowly turned to face you, eyebrows that had been razor-sharp a moment ago curving up to regard you with earnest curiosity. 

“Sorry…” he began, but you flung yourself against him, stretching to get your arms around him as much as you could to pull him into a tight, appreciative hug. He paused for a moment, then slowly enveloped you in his embrace, mind buzzing as the rest of the cafe returned to their conversations and meals. You pulled back, looking up at him with admiration and cupping his face in one hand, caressing his cheekbone with your thumb.

“Don’t be sorry! You’re my hero, sweetheart. My beautiful big--” 

You didn’t get to finish what you were saying, as he bit his lip, brows furrowing suddenly, and tore himself from your grasp, disappearing out the back door. Frozen for a second in a dumbfounded stupor, you grabbed a coworker’s elbow as she passed by, “Can you cover my tables real quick?” She nodded, giving you a knowing wink, and you turned to follow Wrecker into the alley behind the diner. He was pacing restlessly, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand and muttering at the ground. When he heard the door close behind you, he glanced at you with those puppy dog eyes again, then bit his lip and continued his movements. 

“Hey baby…” you crooned, not seeing him wince slightly at your voice, “What’s the matter?” 

He slowed, dropping his hand from his neck and pausing to regard you evenly. His face was a kaleidoscope of expressions, impossible to read, and you were clueless to the turmoil within. You didn’t know how much you’d grown on him over the last number of months, how frequently his thoughts turned to you, how your gentle touches made his heart swell in his chest. But he’d also seen how you lavished such affection on everyone, and he felt an increasing sense of internal conflict that was driving him crazy, trying to discern if he were just another customer or… more than that. 

"Don't ever do that again! You have no idea what it does to me…" he said suddenly, the vehemence in his gravelly voice stunning you a few steps back as he stared at you. Your mind was racing, trying to catch up, and his body was still coursing from the adrenaline of the last few minutes.

“...do what?” you asked, holding your hands up in helpless surrender. Your large eyes met his, round and unguarded, brimming with emotion. He melted inside at your genuine confusion, and he dropped his chin toward the ground, rubbing his forehead in consternation. “Wrecker, I’m sorry,” you began, still unsure of what you were apologizing for, but you ached to see him this way. You drew nearer, tentatively, and laid a hand on his forearm. He dropped his arms to his sides, taking a deep breath and raising his gaze to your face. 

“It’s okay,” he said, quietly now, with a crack in his voice that tugged at your heart. “I just…” he fumbled, casting his eyes about as if the words would appear to him somewhere in the alleyway, and settled for a disappointed grunt. A realization hit you, a possibility, a chance… it blossomed warm throughout your limbs. You were wildly unsure, but propelled onward by an unseen force as you slowly stepped closer, bringing yourself within inches of his hulking form, which was uncharacteristically deflated. 

“Hey,” you said, soft as velvet, coaxing him to look at you. His mouth twisted, eyes reluctantly lifting to yours. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable…” you ventured, reaching up to ghost your fingers across his cheek precariously, heart thrilling when he closed his eyes and leaned into your palm ever so slightly. “Oh…” you breathed, feeling one of his strong arms slip around your waist, pulling you flush against his broad chest. His eyes opened, rendering you frozen to the spot, and his face curved into a blissful grin. 

“I was afraid I liked it too much,” he murmured, capturing you with his gaze, unfathomably soft and yet enticingly intense. “I mean, you’re so sweet to everyone…” You beamed at him, looping your other arm around his neck, positively vibrating with the tingles that resulted from your body being pressed against his. 

“It’s my job,” you conceded, “But… I’ve got a particular sweet spot for you, Wrecker.” His tiny gasp was overwhelmingly endearing, and a giggle slipped past your lips, drawing his eyes down to them. He bit his lip, eyebrows drawing together as he darted his gaze back to yours for a moment, then swallowed hard. The slow lean that brought his face to yours seemed to take an eternity, and you relaxed your eyes closed, feeling his arms draw you in more tightly, still holding you as gently as a fragile treasure. When he pressed his mouth against yours, sweet and salty and so soft, you sighed in utter bliss, tilting your head to nuzzle more closely against him. He lingered for a moment, then pulled away with a quiet smack and a sharp inhale, looking down at you in adorable surprise. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but finding no words whatsoever, slowly closed it. You slid your hands down his chest, wrapping him in a hug and turning your head sideways to lean against him. His heartbeat pounded against your ear, charming you again with the disproportionate tenderness that resided beneath his intimidating brawn, and one of his hands roved soothingly up and down your back. He sent another burst of tingles through you when he pressed another kiss to the top of your head, causing you to pull away to look up at his affectionate face once again. 

“I have to get back to work,” you admitted, hating every word. He let out a breath, nodding slowly, then pinched your chin with gentle fingers, white and brown eyes soaking up your presence as though it were life itself.

“Maybe I can come by when you get off.”

“I’d love that.”

#the bad batch #tbb #bad batch #star wars the bad batch #tbb wrecker #the bad batch wrecker #wrecker x reader #bad batch wrecker #wrecker #wrecker fluff #wrecker fanfic #wrecker one shot #tbb one shots

[fresh-depression-soup]

No one believes in aliens. Heck, even I don’t particularly have an opinion. But, there are facts that we should be aware of and that line-up suspiciously.

For instance, my family has a long history in military work dating back to the Founding Fathers themselves, more recently being in the Air Force. My great uncle was in the same unit as President George Bush Sr. in WWII, my dad’s dad and stepdad and my grandpa were Air Force during WWII and Vietnam, and mom’s dad was in New Mexico as one of the soldiers helping test the first atom bomb. It is truly astounding how far back family history takes you, how far it shows your blood has been. My dad has been around the country during his youth while his dad and stepdad were active duty, consequently seeing quite more of the U.S. than is probably available to the general public. He has recalled to my siblings and I exactly once, and in careful detail, of an event we are only privy to through accident. My dad’s mom’s side of the family lived in New Mexico during one of the most curious possible alien sightings, by circumstance of a family member being in service nearby at the time.

Roswell, New Mexico, is a place of great debate.

All I can say is that we have accounts, handed down to me by just two generations of family, that witnessed the most infamous day that birthed the phenomena of UFO sightings. But, is unidentified really true? The event is disregarded in history as a military balloon so why would the flying object be unidentified?

Perhaps it is unidentified because we do not actually know where it came from. If the first hand accounts sneakily passed through generations are anything to be believed, then aliens are just as real a possibility as imaginable. Nothing is concrete of course, the accounts have had plenty of time to be embellished through time, but even the bare bones picture of what is painted shows something similar to a worldwide cover up by the United States government.

It sounds crazy, because it is. But also my family is not the type to joke, especially when you talk about my dad’s mom’s side.

From the stories, my family saw snippets of the craft that was taken by far, far too many government vehicles and guarded by an unreasonable amount of local and national police. If this was “just a weather balloon,” it must have been a hell of an important one. Also, the recovered wreckage that was seen in transport was incredibly advanced and sleek, nothing that my family had ever seen before from test sites.

On its own, these circumstances are suspicious but not enough to make any declaration with.

So I will add the statements of my own father, who in the late 1970s or early 1980s, was with his parents going through a military facility in Ohio. They were there for a tour of sorts of the portions of the facility open to the public. My father, being young, dumb, and curious, snuck off from the group and wandered into the part of the facility top secret to anyone except the high ranking military staff. He had taken a staircase down a few floors and eventually ran into another museum kind of room - except it was filled with alien artifacts.

It has been long enough my father does not remember everything that was in the room, but he vividly remembers seeing pieces of smooth metal in thick, glass display cases titled, “Recovered Alien Craft from Roswell, NM.” My father was found soon after he made it into that room and was escorted out of the building with his parents, and sworn under NDAs they signed before going in, they can never publicly talk about anything they saw in the facility.

I’m starting to wonder now if that was a bad idea.

As I stare at the national news channel, witness to the live feed of alien starships sending smaller fighters across the world, I can’t help but wonder if secrecy was worth this. I can’t help but wonder if the world knew the truth my father whispered to me two decades ago, if it would become this bad this fast. I can’t help but wonder what better ways we could have defended ourselves if our oh so righteous government would have warned us of our apocalypse.

This is not the battle we thought we would face, but humanity has always reveled in war.

So we took up arms, our differences unceremoniously shoved in the corner. Humanity, for the first time in millenia, issued a state of peace with each other worldwide. Of course, we still had our differences at home, but faced with an invading trans-galactic force that harnessed light travel while we were cavemen, we United.

We didn’t know until long later when sharing stories with other intergalactic species, but the invaders had been torturing the sectors of space nearest to us for longer than lived memory. Their official species title was Xakkiel, when translated to human tongue, but well. In the early days we fought back from every corner.

We nicknamed them The Imperial Khans.

On the early warfronts, humanity was scattered and uncoordinated mostly. But then, leaders arose. It actually didn’t surprise the world too much about where these resistance leaders came from. Each of them had the same drawl, the same will, and the same vicious instinct. In these early days, interplanetary communication was hard to come by because most satellites were destroyed by the Xakkiel, but word of mouth threw the stories far and wide, encouraging other resistance pockets. From the depths of America, stories of the Rednecks prevailed.

The Rednecks went out to their hunting gear and dragged out every single weapon they owned, whether rifles, handguns, knives, even a few swords and medieval armor sets from history lovers. These were distributed among unarmed friends and family and from there, the world grew hope. Stories of camo-covered snipers, wiping out entire Xakkiel units dispatched through the Appalachians and the forests of the Deep South, stories of ambushes from hand-to-hand combat proficient humans, and one notable story of Xakkiels running across bear families and being mauled.

The Imperial Khans grew to be scared of the thick accents of some humans, of rugged, sunburnt skin, of the sound of shotguns cocking.

Humans went from laughing or being fascinated by the idea of aliens, to beheading them.

We don’t “believe” in aliens anymore. We despise them. We chase them through our backyards and lose pieces of ourselves in the process, but for every human that lost a limb, a Xakkiel lost its life. Other species are fighting back against the oppression of the Xakkiels now too. They heard through the stars of a soft bodied, yet determined and unbreakable race that was invaded and continued still, breaking the spirits of those who began the invasion.

Humans have banded together with broken Xakkiel craft and fixed it, using them to chase the invaders out of our solar system and others. Now we are the aliens - except we save the universe instead of destroying it.

#humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #earth is space australia #aliens are coming #humans are space australians #humans are unexpected heroes #humans are terrifying #star wars names #star trek names

[satansfashionconsultant]

Fashion bashing and advice for deities and beings

Gods, goddesses, and deities

@god-of-powerpoint you need to stop wearing polos. They do nothing for you. While a suit would complement you better, you need to avoid anything double-breasted, considering your stature, as it will only make you look wider. Seriously, if you must wear polos, do not wear any with embellishment or cuffs on the sleeves, as this will make it even worse. Polos are a semi-formal item. You need to look better.

@thatsonehelofaname the black-white color scheme goes nicely with your complexion, but try adding a few pastels. Anything very bright will make you look washed out, but the right tones will add some color to your skin.

@imhotterthanallofyou you are correct in saying that you look good in red, it brings out your eyes and pairs nicely with your skin tone. A slit-skirt dress goes nicely, considering your lean figure. Play to your strengths.

@justicenotlaw try to change it up every now and then. A vest rather than a jacket will look very nice, and the lack of stiffer fabric will make your missing hand look less awkward.

@stop-hammer-time the hauberk look is classic, but try switching up the vest, or adding a couple small accessories.

@thesebootsaremadeforstomping the thighs-highs, again, you actually got something right. Please, for the love of all that is beautiful. Wear something other than black. Even a dark navy or burgundy would be nice, although reds would be best considering your eyes are made of blood, so then they can match.

@possessed-not-obsessed literally just come over, you need a home. There's nothing else to tell you.

@goddessofloveanddeath Brinsingarmen does NOT go with everything. If you love it so much, change the outfit to match. The color of red gold clashes with rose gold.

@lordofsummergodofrizz dear one, please try trading the flannel for something else. While I will admit, they do look good on you, I think nothing would look better.

@the-god-of-this-age the ambassador from Tartarus will be here in an hour. Please have at least a scrap of modesty.

Other assorted beings

@thesmallbadwolf when you're free, I'd be happy to give you some pointers. I think forest green, taupe, or ivory would really bring out your eyes. Aside from that, Tyr says you have a strong yet lean figure, so perhaps something with a slimmer fit would look best.

If I've missed anyone, please tag them and I will give my input.

[dashboard-elysium]

The Case of the Missing Swordsman / Post 32 / Previously

YOU – “I thought there might be a mysterious sexy twist.”

KIM – “Like a Dick Mullen novel? Perhaps the crime was committed by a smoking hot dame in a slinky red dress?” He’s remembering your reaction to that particular cover back in the bookshop.

YOU – “Hey, now you’ve got the spirit! That’s what I’m talking about!”

MAN FROM HJELMDALL MUG – A healthy reaction, brother-in-arms! And you know what else is sexy?

YOU – What?

MAN FROM HJELMDALL MUG – These thigh muscles. Just look at them.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT – It’s true. They’re practically glowing. His over-developed quadriceps are the central focus of the image.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – There’s your sexy twist. You get to admire those legs on your desk while you write your case report.

RHETORIC – The other sexy twist is silently bragging about your own endowment every time you use this mug.

——— The Next Day ———

YOU – In the morning, you enter the coffee corner and fill your newly found mug nearly to the brim with dark brew. You take a sip.

MAN FROM HJELMDALL MUG – Bitter, sludgy, life-giving elixir of the gods!

INLAND EMPIRE – This primordial soup contains the seeds of life to jumpstart your brain. It will give you the fortitude to get that case report written at last.

PERCEPTION – Hjelmdallermugg rests comfortably in your hand, ready to conquer the day.

YOU – The blank case report forms lie on your desk, untouched. They should have been filled out yesterday, if you hadn’t gotten distracted by the missing mug. You sit down and stare at the intimidatingly empty form.

ESPRIT DE CORPS – Case reports follow a simple format. Start with the basics of where you were, when it happened, who was there, and what occurred. Martinaise, Terminal B, the back yard of the Whirling in Rags. The fourth of March of this year. Then describe the most important elements. A hanged man. A false confession. A shootout.

MAN FROM HJELMDALL MUG – A shootout? Sounds boring. Where are the swords? The maces and crossbows? The thundering warhorses? That’s what you really need for a good story.

DRAMA – Sire, the barbarian speaks true! Go on, add a few embellishments to your report. Perhaps there was a fair maiden who needed to be rescued. Who’s to say it didn’t really happen?

LOGIC – Well, Kim for one. He was there. He knows what happened and what didn’t.

PERCEPTION – Speaking of Kim, he’s approaching you now. There’s something in his hand.

KIM – He hands you a well-worn paperback. It’s the first In System book. “I thought you might like to borrow this,” he says. “I know you’re only a fan of the most obscure ones. But sometimes it’s nice to return to the classics, don’t you think?”

YOU – “Wow, thanks Kim! I’m looking forward to reading it! Um, for like the fifth time, I mean.”

KIM – “Mmhm. I’m sure you are.” His eyebrow quirks slightly, as does the corner of his mouth, as if he’s trying to keep back a laugh. “Don’t forget you need to let me borrow that one you really like… what was it called? I am a Screaming Radiocomputer?”

CONCEPTUALIZATION – Oh shit, he hasn’t forgotten about that. Alright. It’s fine. He’s given you the raw material to start from. You’ve got this.

MAN FROM HJELMDALL MUG – Worry not, my friend! You have my sword, my strength, and most of all, my ideas!

——— FIN ———

#the case of the missing swordsman #it's over! #thanks for playing everyone! #sorry it took so long to post this last installment #i got hit with some late-game indecisive writers block #long post

[monocytogenes]

An Embellishment of Lore (tag game)

I think as Fanfic writers, we often add lore to our stories. It is natural for us to build upon the pillars set for us. But what about the foundations, gravel and grit? What was a piece of Lore you added to Dragon Age that wasn’t pre-existing?

Tagged by @theluckywizard!

I tend to have a lot of lore sitting in documents (like, seriously, I have a whole thing just on Orlesian theater culture), but honestly, most of it is side stuff that enters fics in bits and pieces. Apart from events that I tweak due to character choices that aren't available in canon or the need to maintain practical plausibility, I usually don't invent that much for DA because the foundational worldbuilding is so damn good.

That said, here's a few fun details:

There are newspapers in Orlais. (Makes sense, since we know they can mass-produce books.)

Pravin glanced up from his cup of tea, regarding the older man, who was reading the week’s copy of Le Royan through a pair of pince-nez. “What?” “Inquisition,” Gaubert repeated expectantly, sliding the paper across the table to him. “You heard about this?”

Opiates exist. (There's implication of this in canon, but not fully substantiated.)

“And…” Fidencio’s gaze slid thoughtfully upward, debating his last choice, before leveling on Varric again. “One case laudanum.” “Ooh,” Varric said with a sharp inhale. “That’s a toughie. Been having some sourcing issues, for all the obvious reasons.” “Well, I can’t make this too easy for you,” Fidencio said with a smirk.

Josephine's a theater nerd who had season tickets to the Grande Royeaux. (I mean, she can take the PC to the opera; of course she is.)

“Which plays have you seen?” he asked in friendly Antivan. Josephine switched to her native tongue with a delighted laugh. “So many. I had season tickets for a quite a while. You were very memorable as Godoy in Fontenot—you brought such sharp intellect to a role that’s normally just a caricature of the scheming foreigner. And Sévigny—I’ve seen that probably three times with different casts, and your take on the man was fascinatingly raw and real. Like the prayer scene, how that’s normally this somber, elegant expression of grief, and you were just stalking about, furious, weeping—”

Cullen was taught to "speak properly" in a Chantry school and has an accent that implies he didn't receive a high-end education.

A commoner, Pravin figured. Interesting pick for a military appointment. Cullen sounded vaguely Ferelden, with one of those Chantry-taught accents that came across as deliberately stripped of regional color. Maybe he’d been connected to the institution, someone one of the Hands had grown accustomed to working with—a templar, perhaps.

I think probably one of my biggest additions to canon is the amount of multilingual interactions/linguistic code-switching I write--it's not something that's easy to portray in a game with voice acting, but so normative among real people who speak several languages that I can't not see it happening. Josephine and Pravin swap between Orlesian, Antivan and Common through the course of their first meeting in The Girl He Remembered, depending on their comfort level with each other, what they're talking about and who else is in the room, and I just love what it adds to the scene.

#ask meme #writing #dragon age inquisition #dragon age

[filopay]

AEGON

[ 1 ] [ 2 ]

~ Weapon

Aegon had never been a fighter but he can respect a good made weapon if he sees one. Perhaps it was that or sheer curiosity that brought him down towards the lower district where it was said, the best blacksmith of all Skaeld resided.

Surprising enough, the people still looked up to stare at him, but that could also be because of his well-made clothes Elora had provided for him. And as quickly as they had looked up, they were looking elsewhere again.

He was starting to like it down here. Why does everyone always say to avoid this place? The market was held down here too. Everyone seemed to enjoy that.

Then suddenly someone bumped into him, due to his tall frame it barely made him stumble, but the moment he wanted to see if the person was alright, they already vanished into the next alley.

They seem very hurried down here. He thought.

"The weapon you described is expensive. I usually only add embellishments for the crown."

"Not a problem. That is why I brought…" it wasn't there, he was sure he put his purse right inside his inner vest pocket, but it was empty. Just in case, he checked the other side but there was also nothing to be found. 

Looking a bit embarasses he met the blacksmiths solemn face. "I must have dropped it. I am sure I put it in here."

"Robbed." He said, snifling once, before continuing hammering on his anvil.

"What?!" Aegon had to shout over the loud noise the man was making.

"You were most likely robbed. Happens." They shrug like its the most common occurance.

"Oh, I didn't notice." Then he remembers the person running into him, it must have happened then. He let his shoulders hang, that were all the earnings he has gotten from Elora. Now it was all gone. 

"I'm afraid I have to come back another time for my request. Is there anything you can tell me to prevent it from happening again?"

The man mumbles something under his breath, before meeting Aegons gaze beneath bushy eyebrows. "Eyes sharp. Weapon at the ready. You're tall also. Keep valuable things high up where they can't easily reach."

That makes sense. "Thank you. You are a very kind soul, sir. I shall recommend you to my friends. Then I will come back to pay you for your good services."

The man just huffs as an answer. Not much a conversationalist, but Aegon didn't mind that.

"I heard there are other things that one can do to entertain oneself here. Any suggestions?"

The man hummed and Aegon understood it as the sign for the man thinking.

"My son likes to go to the market often. Helps them out. Othertimes he visits the dwarven tavern at the very outskirts of the district. Its cheap. But I wouldn't recommend you going there. They eat you alive."

Aegon blinks at the vivid image the man was painting for him. "Then if I were to go there would your previous advise apply to it too?"

"Absolutley not!"

Aegon raised both eyebrows surprised about the mans sudden outburst.

"If you show up with a weapon into the dwarven district, you better know how to use it. Because you will need to use it."

"Oh." Aegon scatches his chin in thought, "You said your son would go there often. What would he say about inviting a few other people over."

The mans steely gaze suddenly turned ten times more darker, if that were even possible and Aegon shivered underneath it.

"Listen here, rich boy." He lifted the smeltering hot iron and Aegon takes a careful step back, "You came here to make business with me. Don't ever drag my boy into your affairs, treat me all you like, but leave him out of it."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disrespect you. I will drop it, never going to mention it again."

The man huffs again, seemingly a common way of dismissing Aegons words.

"Why do you want to go anyway? Don't you have enough stuff up at your own fancy district?"

"Well, a dwarven tavern sounds like a good time."

"Not if it costs your life."

"Then, do you know where I could possibly learn to wield that weapon you are going to craft for me?" Aegon smiles, hoping to not having bothered the man too much yet. He was just the only one willing to talk to him down here.

"Once you pay me. I ain't working for free."

"Yes, of course." Aegon nods.

"Well, then." He seems to be thinking, "The guards around the walls are still recruiting. They can teach you."

Aegon frowns, before lowering his voice, "Aren't they awfully violent?"

The man looks at him, his patience visibly running thin.

"Never mind." Aegon waves the question off. "I already have a job anyway. Can't really leave it. I'll figure out how that weapon will work another way. Thank you for your patience, good man. You will hear from me again when I have earned back the money I lost."

"Stolen."

"Well, we don't know that for certain."

"I do."

Aegon presses his lips together at the stubborness of this man. He doesn't even seem to like to humour a different mindset, a possibly more creative conclusion. How to know anything at all, right? Maybe they are all just guessing.

Yet, he kept his phylosophics to himself, knowing he had taken up enough of this mans time already. "I will see you again in good time for my weapon."

With that he bids his farewell. He truly did not know why so many avoid this place. There hadn't been one person asking to touch his ears since he was here.

He felt a little bit lighter.

#filopay #oc #black ice #oc tober 2023 #oc tober #aegon

[shining-gem34]

Mallory, what do you know of the old gods? The ones that came before you, born from the slumbering abyss? What do you think of them?

Musing with Anons || Accepted

Interview of the Gods and Goddesses featuring Mallory (I)

As a precaution, Mallory checks his surroundings for any eavesdroppers before he peers at the parchment again. They were questions that any mortal, even ones that turn their backs on their gods, would have some knowledge of. Somehow, he has a feeling they're searching for a different answer.

But, why him, a God of Misfortune, of all people?

Still, it is rare for anyone to seek him out for knowledge. He'll indulge their curiosities for a bit.

Besides, his mistress didn't force him to sign any non-disclosure agreement contracts regarding this topic.

"I know about as much as any other deity. There are gods much older than me, such as my mistress, Lady Papillio. However, she is not born from the abyss. She was created by a certain Goddess to promise equality between two or more parties during a chaotic era. As for her methods, that choice belongs to her- by creating contracts. But many mortals started associating her with the underworld because she chose to stay there most of the time."

If you ask him why she decided to stay in the underworld, Mallory will shake his head as if he doesn't know the answer either. He can make a few guesses, but he'll miss the mark.

He blinks and realizes he forgot to add something, "If you don't know already, which I won't blame you for: I am Lady Papillio's servant. My general opinion of her...I do not hate or like her, she rescued me on a whim for her own entertainment. But at the end of the day, I am indebted to her."

If you try to prod him for more details regarding the nature of his relationship with his mistress, Mallory doesn't elaborate any further and continues.

"Anyone older than my mistress...There is her lady friend, a fellow goddess: Lady Lillith, the Overseer of the Underworld. You can curse her or sympathize with her, but she- Well, I can't say she won't care too much. She is the statue you pitiful fools pray to for vengeance against someone, especially if your love is slighted. Personally, I wouldn't dare to cross her...openly at least so I am keeping my inner thoughts to myself."

Mallory had to pause and think briefly about Lady Lillith's origins. The many oral tales of her beginning are vague and embellished for dramatics than the truth. He has a feeling perhaps his mistress may know since they're good friends, but he dares not ask without walking into another contract. Asking the Overseer of the Underworld herself is less than pleasing since Mallory avoids her as much as he can.

Right, moving on...

"I'll answer one more and end it here for now. Since we're still on the topic of the Underworld..."

The air shifts dangerously, Mallory's golden eyes narrow revealing his pure disdain for the next topic. He crosses his arms and begins.

"I'm sure you're familiar with the name 'Soul-Eater', yes? Though he's not a god. Oh no, he's something much, much worse than any immortals. His true name is Abythes, the embodiment of corruption that has existed since the beginning of time. He wanders around the underworld eating the souls of the damned. Horrible, am I right? A hideous creature whose appetite can never be satisfied. If only there was a way to destroy him for good...Ah, don't mind my musings."

A long sigh escapes Mallory because this is the longest he has talked. He should find something to drink after this to sate his parched throat.

"Fortunately for you mortals living in the overworld, Abythe's existence is chained to the deepest part of the underworld. Unfortunately, his spawns are a different story. Unlike their father, they freely wander between the worlds and middle with no consequences."

Then, the God of Misfortune smiles so sharply that it can cut stone.

"Don't you think we, the ones cursed by corruption, are better off gone? After all, we are evil except..."

Mallory's expression falls, golden eyes turning distant as he gazes in the general direction where he knows the first snow will drop. He seems almost wistful.

"...That child is different from us. He deserves to live his life to the fullest with his beloved far away from the corrupted ones."

A small bow from the God of Misfortune before his form disappears in a flurry of black crow feathers.

Until next time, my pitiful lambs.

#papillio servant (mallory) #black cats wandering (general/casual) #jade answers (a ask) #anonymous asks #the temples paperwork (interview with mallory series) #||I AM SURE THERE IS SOMETHING ELSE HERE YOU WERE LOOKING FOR BUT MIND WENT BLANK #||ENJOY PLEASE

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Honey Lemon (Part 4)

Kei Lo likes watching the flowers bloom. He has a flower chart, when the weather is nice he lays in the field and sketches them onto a notepad in perfect detail. He labels the sketches. He can’t bring himself to pluck them from their stems–he doesn’t want to be the one to kill beauty. So he lowers himself to their level when he wishes to sniff them. He rubs their petals and cherishes their colors. Once upon a time he had wanted to make perfumes.

Naturally, springtime has come to be his most adored time of the year. It is a season of change and growth. He likes watching leaves burst onto trees, the grass begin to green, and flowers pop up all over the fields–it seems to happen over night. One minute everything is dead and drab and then come morning and suddenly it is all vibrance and brightness as though the dreary had never been at all. 

Most of all he enjoys seeing Azula bloom. Bloom, flourish, and thrive. But her change has taken many seasons. An almost agonizingly gradual process.

One that he still finds himself witnessing.

Watching her work is rather incredible. Even if her hands are completely unpracticed. It is the determination in her eyes, the reflection of molten glass and her fire in them. It is the crinkle on her forehead with the concentrating creasing of her brows. It is the way she presses her lips firmly together and mutters softly to herself.  

He watches her tuck strands of her hair behind her ears and take a deep breath. She has already figured out how to shape the molten glass around the pipe without it drooping or sagging. The first three or four had been misshapen or globby.

This one, as she blows into the pipe, seems to be coming along well–it is smooth and round as bubbles are. She sits back and observes her work. “I finally got one, Kei Lo.” She flashes him one of her cheerful self satisfied smiles. 

The one that makes it hard to picture the girl he’d first met. The miserable, confused girl wearing Kemurikage robes who had held him by the collar with fire in her hands while telling Mai that she had downgraded in choosing to love him.

That same fire reheats the cooling glass.

“What are you going to do with it?” 

Azula hums. “I suppose that I will try to add some color.” She looks over to Dao-Yan.

“It is your art.” The woman looks up from her own work, a little glass lamp. “You decide what you want to do with it.”

Azula clears her throat. “Right, yes. My art.”

.oOo.

It isn’t as technical as beekeeping to create something. The bees have always been there; beekeeping has always been a concept. It is something with an established framework and a set of rules. 

But this.

This is her own to establish.

There are a few rules; the groundwork needed to keep the glass from shattering. But she has gotten past the most rule oriented phase of this project. Of course she still needs to follow these rules to keep her art in tact but now she has to begin making the art into art. 

She has to add her own creative touches and flairs. She has to make this thing that she has created her own. 

And this is where she is at a loss. 

There is only so much that she can do with a small glass orb. 

And what can she do that hasn’t been done already?

Perhaps a touch of lightning? 

But no, that doesn’t work, the globe is still affixed to a metal pole. 

“Don’t overthink it.” Dao-Yan cautions, as though that advice has ever been of any use to her. “This is your first globe, the goal isn’t to make it perfect. The goal is to simply have it made and finished. After that you can start getting fancy.”

“Just finish it.” Azula murmurs. She glances at Kei Lo. 

“I think that you can do that.” He shrugs. “Technically you already have unless you want to add embellishments.”

“I do.” She says. She picks up some of the colorful powder that Dao-Yan has set out for her. Teal, blue, and a darker shade of blue are her choice colors. It has been quite some time since she has seen blue fire. She decides that she can settle on seeing it on a glass orb. 

With careful fingers, she sprinkles the powder into wavy curling tongues of flame. She hopes that it will turn out as intended by the time it comes out of the kiln. All the while a separate part of her hopes that it will not. 

She is learning to take life in strides. 

Learning to take spontaneity with greater appreciation and less apprehension. 

She watches Dao-Yan deposit her lamp into the kiln and mimics the motions and then finds herself a spot in Kei Lo’s lap. She sits proud and tall, full intending on being there until the glass is done. 

“This process will take awhile.” Dao-Yan mentions. “Come back tomorrow and it will be ready for you.” 

“Alright.” Azula replies. Admittedly she had been hoping to see how it turned out tonight. She very nearly asks if there is any way that the woman could make the process go by faster. Instead she adds. “We will be here at noon exactly.”

“Noon exactly.” Dao-Yan agrees.

With those parting words, she and Kei Lo are back on the streets. “It’s nice.” Azula muses. 

“What is?”

She shrugs. “Making things, I just hope that it turns out as I had planned.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Kei Lo quirks a brow.

“Then…” she clears her throat. “I’m just learning and I can make a better one next time.”

“Or maybe you can look at the one you made and realize that, even if it isn’t how you envisioned it that it might be just as amazing or better.” 

Azula nods.

Just as amazing or better…

Her life, she thinks, is a lot better. 

Sometimes she has to say it to herself. Not because she is still at a point in her life where these reminders are crucial to her well-being. Rather, she has to cherish it–appreciate it in a way contrary to how she viewed everything in her old life.

Those things that she had loved and hadn’t thought to relish until she had lost them. 

She won’t lose Kei Lo. 

She won’t lose this life. 

She can’t.

It would break her and she doesn’t think that she could be repaired this time if it did. 

“You won’t leave me, will you?” She has to ask every now and again. She dreads that one day he will say that the constant asking has in fact led him to leave. She squeezes his hand. 

He slows their walking to a halt. “I won’t leave you.” He assures her as her sweeps a curtain of her hair aside. “I promise that I wouldn’t do that to you.” 

“But what if…”

He touches his pointer to her lips. “You do realize that we have already been through almost all of everyone else’s what if’s, right? ‘What if you see the worst of me?’ ‘What if people don’t like that we’re together?’ ‘What if I say something that hurts you?’ ‘What if you get tired of having to do this or that?’ We’ve already gotten through all of those things, remember?”

She does. “I am very good at coming up with more.” 

Kei Lo chuckles. “Yeah, I noticed that.” He stokes her cheek. “Things have been really peaceful lately, we got our little dream house, we have our bees, you’re making friends.”

She thinks that, that might be a bit of a stretch. She has customers and people who talk to her in passing–the ones that wave to her from across the street and ask her how she is doing. Aside from maybe old lady Yoi, she mostly she keeps to herself.

“Exactly!” She says. “Something has to go wrong soon, it has been too long.” 

Again he chuckles but he doesn’t tell her to just stop. He knows well that it’s just in her nature at this point, to fret and worry when things are going too well. “Of course something will go wrong it’s not just…”

“It can’t be all good all the time.” She mumbles. “I know. I just…what if one day the bad thing is too much to handle?”

“I don’t think that it can get much worse than kidnapping children and trying to, what? Overthrow your brother.”

Azula shrugs. “I don’t really remember. It’s kind of…” she wasn’t exactly all there. She would wager that most of her was absent at that point in her life. “It wasn’t my best idea.” She finally admits. And it still makes her cheeks hot to think about. It is no wonder no one in from her old life wants to talk to her anymore. She clutches Kei Lo’s hand tighter still. She doesn’t know why she is doing this again, after such a good day. 

And maybe this is it. 

Maybe it has already begun. 

The bad things. 

“You were hurt, Azula.” He replies. And she hurt people. “That’s over now.” The stroking of his thumb stills. “You’re okay now. Right.” 

Azula nods again. “Yes. Yes I’m alright. I just…sometimes I need to remember that.” 

He lowers his hand from her face and slings that arm around her waist, pulling closer. “The sushi place across the street is still open, do you want to give it a try?”

She hadn’t exactly planned on stopping for sushi. 

She hadn’t exactly planned a lot of things. 

“Yes, we can give it a try.” 

She might not be all that fond of sushi, but she does enjoy the way Kei Lo’s eyes light up. The gentle and enthusiastic smile that brightens his face. She likes to know that she can make someone smile. 

“But we can’t take too long, I haven’t checked on the bees today.” 

“We can be quick.” He laughs. 

Azula loves three things; molten glass, her bees, and Kei Lo. When she has these things and Kei Lo she doesn’t feel broken or lost. When she has them, she feels like she has had some degree of success in her life. 

And she remembers that she really wouldn’t want to change a thing. 

She is okay. 

Perhaps she won’t be in the future. 

Be she is now and she will be again.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Kei Lo #Azula/Kei Lo #Fanfiction

[shroudkeeper]

.temper // prompt.03

The tale ensnared them entirely, which meant any sound made in the forest caused them to suspect they had not been truly alone. All four of them were huddled close in the encompassing dark, faces lit by just the crackling fire they shared; their expressions varied between worry and boredom. One of the young girls, the least bit roused by the story, sighed quietly before picking up one of the sticks on the ground to poke at the flames.

“That’s not possible, she can’t possibly have two heads, what is she a hydra now too?” The young girl groaned in disbelief at her brother, the storyteller this evening, as he went off on one of his more outlandish tales. He wanted to scare her, but she was not so easily spooked by spoken word, but the woods felt different tonight, eerie. She didn’t want to admit that his story was adding to the ambiance.

“..Oh? Well how do you know, have you seen her?” Her sibling goaded and grinned as the lips of his sibling stuck her tongue out at him. The other two giggled among themselves while warming their hands against the curl of the flames, but became hyper-aware of the soft flutter coming from the verdant crowns above, avians perched perhaps or taking flight, they could not really see well in enveloping darkness.

“I heard that when people go deeper into the woods, they never come back,” the oldest of them turned his brown eyes towards the path to the east of them, where one could see a tunnel made of curved, intertwining boughs, where mist coiled and pooled close to the damp, velveteen moss. Silence hung heavy in the air around them as they all looked at one another as the wind swept through the woodwork of clustered roots and gnarled branches.

“..Some say you can feel the earth’s temper before you see her, as these ancient roots slither along with thorny vines. Twelve, I even heard that the river boils from the flames of her rancor, hot enough to rival Azeyma's fire.”

“Wait, come on..” The girl’s high-pitched voice broke into the shared darkness, “..That would kill the fish! Why would sh–”

"You're such a liar, Lucent." The other poked fun at him, nudging his shoulder as he spoke up.

Then the bickering among them began as voices overlap one another, each arguing and swearing on some outlandish fact about the wanderer of the woods, that was until an unfamiliar one joins in the fray. 

“She would not do something so drastic.” The soft voice interrupts as it resonates from the winds that greet them; causing everyone to fall silent as their eyes frantically dart in every crevice made by tree and bush, trying to find the location of the person who addressed them.

“Such tales are overly exaggerated, as you will come to find.” Rivienne's figure appeared to materialize from the mist, mist they didn't realize had gathered at their feet since their attention was directed everywhere else but on the ground. Her gown was gossamer with strings of dew that adorned the neckline. Sun-kissed skin was radiant under the shards of moonlight that escaped the netting of leaves above her golden crown. In her hand, she held a vase, probably filled with water from the bubbling brook a few yalms from where the children were camping.

"Woah. She's real?" The young storyteller spoke under his breath in disbelief as he watched her languid approach and instinctively rose to stand before his siblings, protectively, though the maiden could see his hands give in to tremors. The soft, worried mumurs began to surface between them as they peeked from behind his willowy frame; all their eyes were fixated on the tall figure before them in a combination of both awe and fear.

"However," she adds with a warm smile that rose to her golden gaze, "I do appreciate the embellishments made to the story, though children should not be out at such late hours in the woodlands."

The oldest of the group swallowed and meekly nodded in agreement while blush crept to meet the tips of his ears as Rivienne winked, “Hurry along before you really see what my temper does!” To this, the kids scrambled to their feet as a wink was given to the eldest boy, who helped them along and stole a glance past his shoulder;  his initial anxiety subsides when catching the mirth twinkling in the eyes of the golden lady as they departed.

#ffxiv writing #ffxivwrite2022 #ffxiv #writing prompt

[wingsyliveblogs]

Well, I’ve rewatched Episode 12 a couple of times, and although I don’t think I have much to say about it that I haven’t already said, I do have a few things to add:

The music is really good. Especially during the bit where Luz figures out the ice spell, but at some other key points as well. 

I missed it the first time through, but King is swinging the bear around in this shot and it’s very cute. Alas, it was not to last...

King is definitely slamming that door multiple times on purpose for effect in the kitchen scene. When you’re small and angry, your options for making it clear that you’re mad are... limited.

Eda’s staff appears and disappears a couple of times throughout the episode. Since it’s already been established that witches can summon and dismiss their staffs at will, this isn’t really a problem, but it’s funny to note! 

Incidentally, I came across this post a few days ago while I was going back through my Episode 5 liveblog. Given the context of what has been established in this episode, I think the tags for this one are pretty hilarious!

And now, one thing that applies to more than just this episode, but that it’s somehow taken me this long to notice:

(cut for image-induced length)

I noted while watching this episode that the way the light glyph is drawn is inconsistent with its original appearance, featuring two circles instead of one. But it happens in other episodes, too!

In Episode 4, the glyph is drawn with one circle.

In Episode 5, it’s drawn with two.

In Episode 8, it’s back to one, but it’s also a bit stylised this time - the top of the image is one shape instead of two, and the lines in the middle are drawn as a diamond instead. 

Episode 11, still one circle.

And now, in Episode 12, both the light and ice glyphs are drawn with two layered circles. 

Also, I literally just noticed that Luz drew the lines in the middle of the glyph the wrong way. I mentioned while I was first watching that her messy lines felt like a subtle indication of how bad she was feeling, but the fact that she even got part of it wrong makes it all the more obvious. 

It’s also interesting that the light glyph still worked even when she drew it slightly incorrectly... and the same would apply to Episode 8, now that I think about it. It seems that perfect accuracy isn’t necessary to make glyph magic work, which makes sense. If minor errors prevented glyphs from activating at all, they wouldn’t really be a very effective source of magic, would they?

Incidentally...

...the constellation depicting the light glyph has one circle in it...

...and the ice glyph shown in the snowflake has two. (Incidentally, the little diamond that Luz draws below the line isn’t present in either of the snowflakes in which the glyph appears, so that’s possibly another embellishment on Luz’s part.)

So what does any of this mean..? 

So far, since the number of circles remains inconsistent across multiple episodes (and even within a single episode, if we compare the constellation and the light glyph as drawn by Luz), I must conclude that the light glyph probably works fine regardless of whether it’s drawn with one circle or with two, and whichever one Luz goes with is dependent on how much time or space she has, and perhaps on whether or not she’s feeling like being fancy. 

The ice glyph, however, might require two circles to function at all. More data is required for this one. 

And that’s everything I’ve got for Episode 12... for now. With any luck, I’ll be able to get started on Episode 13 tomorrow, so keep an eye out for that! 

#wingsy liveblogs #wingsy watches owl house #owls ep 12 #apologies for the sporadic posts over the past few days #I've been feeling a bit low-energy #also I remembered that Wandersong exists and it's really good #and I came to the realisation that Luz's arc in episode 2 really reminds me of it... #no wonder it got to me so much!

[bourbon-ontherocks]

12 16 28 for writing asks!! ❤️

Thank you!! ❤️

12. If you write in more than one language, what's the difference?

Oooof, that's such an interesting question!!

I want to say that there are, in fact, many similarities in the act of writing, whatever the language, because the mental process one gets through in order to create a story tends to remain the same, and also writing in different languages is equally frustrating (that counts as a similarity, no?) but for different reasons lol!

Back then when I wrote exclusively in English, I sorta dreamed of how awesome it had to feel to be writing in your first language and I tended to envy the native English speakers for that. I though that if I were writing in my first language, I’d have a better grasp on words, nuances, connotations, I’d be able to play this gamut with much more subtlety, I’d have more vocabulary at my disposal and so much fun with it...

And all of the above is absolutely true. I do have all those things now that I’m writing in French, so did I get this promised bliss? Lol no, instead I got c r i n g e. See, being more aware of all the nuances of a language automatically makes you also more aware of the clunkiness and general mediocrity of your own writing. While English had this beautiful veil of mystery draping every sentence, French sounds so bland and cliché that I end up much more unsatisfied.

Also perhaps that’s the not-so-aware-of-clunkiness goblin in me speaking, but I definitely feel that English has more creative potential than French when it comes to writing. One can easily use a noun as a verb, slightly alter a preposition, and generally speaking the language feels more malleable, and that’s an incredibly enticing playground. On the other hand, French is more rigid, and I definitely feel this loss in terms of grammar liberty, but also perhaps I’m just more imbibed with French grammar rules than I am in English, which makes it harder for me to consider breaking them (that’s borderline Stockholm syndrom lol).

Oh and remember when I talked about widening my vocabulary when writing in French? Well, oddly enough, I feel like I tend to repeat myself WAY MORE in French than in English!

Tl;dr

English: lesser grasp of nuances, less vocabulary, harder for these reasons, richer creative possibilities, disminished sensitivity to cringe

French: better understanding of nuances, more playing-with-words and subtext potential, extended vocabulary, rigid grammar, cringe, cringe, cringe

16. Are one-shots really underrated?

As someone who's currently suffering throught the final chapters to a 70+k words story, YES!!! A thousand times yes!!! One-shots are life, one-shots are love.

28. Any writing advice that works for you and you feel like sharing?

Well, wiriting advices that work for me tend to come and go as I evolve in my writing habits, so for me, one advice that tends to work a lot for me now would be to just... write. Like, even when there’s no inspiration, no motivation, no momentum, just write down ideas, dialogue lines, snippets, settings, notes, anything, the bare bones of my story. It’ll always be time to flesh everything out later, but that’ll be at least a basis to start from because sometimes the blank page is too indimidating. I used to write pretty much out of instinct a few years back so this advice felt quite irrelevant for me, but this kind of writing mindset is getting harder for me to reach these days, and sometimes I just have to accept that the mojo isn’t here, but still I want to make progress in my WIP because the story is right here, I know what I want on the page, I just don’t have the spark. So I’ll just write the skeleton of it, for instance if it’s a dialogue I’ll just write down the character’s lines. Later I’ll add the muscles (speech indications, tones, gestures, etc...) nerves (character’s inner thoughts) and skin (prose embellishment). It doesn’t matter if I don’t get it all written down on the first draft, each step is still a step. And sometimes, doing so will trigger a much more satisfying stream of inspiration.

 Writing ask that I don’t remember reblogging lol

#ask #sothischickshe #writing #my fic

[heliiacus]

Hi👋🏾 I'd like to know if you have any tips on starting a blog here.im new to this stuff and would like to expand my page.

Thank you.

Hi there darling !! Welcome to Tumblr <3 I will try my best to give advice regarding this; I've been on this hellscape (affectionate) for the majority of my teenage years, but I did have a large break (around '21 to this year), so some etiquette changes may have evaded me. That said:

A profile picture is a must (otherwise people may think you're a bot), and ideally some embellishments for your profile; such as an informative bio, perhaps even a (pinned) post that tells other users more about you. I highly suggest looking around at what sort of things people add in such posts, but only add things you feel comfortable with!

Tag new posts if they are the type of post you want others to see (art, fanfiction, etc.) Here I, too, would highly suggest walking around fandom tags and looking at what people tag certain posts under. Not all tags are intuitive, but if you observe at least a few posts in broad tags you enjoy, you'll get the grasp of them eventually!

The people of Tumblr Really like aesthetics. If you are a writer, I highly suggest adding some pretties and some creature comforts to the post, but nothing too flashy that would detract from the post material itself (or perhaps that's a personal preference?). A good place to start with this is looking up dividers, and tumblr blogs such as @/saradika and @/cafekitsune.

Besides the above example, there are loads of things you could post here to expand your blog. Literature analyses, art, manga edits, screencaps, jokes, haikus; anything. The world is your oyster, but keep in mind that tagging posts appropriately is the way to get these posts seen.

Interact with other people! The space of Tumblr is effectively a virtual playground; everyone here, to some extent or more, seek to interact with their fellows about the things they brainrot over. People make friends here liberally (in my experience), but, of course, do be mindful of people's boundaries and DNI lists.

Lastly, a personal note as a creator on this website: please make sure to support the creative content you consume/enjoy :> likes are great, but people within the community write for the community, therefore, reblogs and comments are always encouraged.

I hope that helps!! I tried to think of the basics off the top of my head, but if you find yourself with any more questions, feel free to send them my way <3

#tumblr culture #blog management #ask #answered

[lorenjohn]

Chic & Sleek: Women's Leather Jacket Essentials

When it comes to versatile and timeless fashion pieces, few items rival the iconic women's leather jacket. From its inception as a symbol of rebellion to its current status as a staple of chic sophistication, the leather jacket has transcended generations and fashion trends. In this blog post, we will explore the essential elements of women's leather jackets, from classic silhouettes to contemporary styles, and discover why they are indispensable additions to any wardrobe.

The Timeless Appeal of Women's Leather Jackets:

A women's leather jacket is more than just an article of clothing; it's a statement piece that exudes confidence, style, and attitude. With its sleek lines, supple leather, and effortlessly cool vibe, the leather jacket has become a symbol of empowerment and individuality. Whether it's the rebellious edge of a moto jacket or the sophisticated allure of a tailored blazer, there's a style of women's leather jacket to suit every taste and occasion.

Classic Silhouettes:

One of the enduring charms of women's leather jackets is their classic silhouettes, which have remained largely unchanged over the years. The moto jacket, with its asymmetrical zipper, notch lapels, and belted waist, is perhaps the most iconic style of women's leather jacket. Its rugged yet refined aesthetic adds instant edge to any outfit and makes it a versatile option for both casual and dressed-up looks. Another timeless silhouette is the bomber jacket, known for its cropped length, ribbed cuffs, and sporty vibe. Perfect for adding a laid-back touch to any ensemble, the bomber jacket is a wardrobe essential for women of all ages.

Contemporary Styles:

While classic silhouettes will always have their place in fashion, contemporary twists on women's leather jackets offer fresh and modern interpretations of this timeless staple. From cropped styles and oversized fits to bold colors and unexpected details, contemporary women's leather jackets push the boundaries of traditional design and embrace the spirit of experimentation. Whether it's a cropped leather moto jacket with studs and embellishments or an oversized leather blazer with exaggerated shoulders, these modern interpretations of women's leather jackets are sure to make a statement and turn heads wherever you go.

How to Style Women's Leather Jackets:

One of the greatest strengths of women's leather jackets is their versatility. They can be dressed up or down, depending on the occasion, and effortlessly transition from day to night. For a casual daytime look, pair a leather moto jacket with a simple t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers for an effortlessly cool vibe. To add a touch of sophistication, layer a leather blazer over a silk blouse and tailored trousers for a chic and polished ensemble that's perfect for the office or a night out. For a more edgy and rebellious look, throw on a leather bomber jacket with a graphic tee, leather leggings, and combat boots for an ensemble that exudes attitude and confidence.

Investment-Worthy Pieces:

While women's leather jackets may require a slightly higher initial investment compared to other wardrobe staples, their timeless appeal and durability make them worthy investments that will last for years to come. When shopping for a women's leather jacket, it's important to prioritize quality craftsmanship and premium materials to ensure that you're getting a piece that will stand the test of time. Look for jackets made from genuine leather, such as lambskin or cowhide, and pay attention to details such as stitching, hardware, and lining. By investing in a high-quality women's leather jacket, you're not just purchasing a piece of clothing; you're investing in a timeless and iconic fashion statement that will elevate your style for years to come.

Conclusion:

In conclusion, women's leather jackets are essential wardrobe staples that combine timeless style, versatility, and attitude. Whether you prefer the classic silhouette of a moto jacket or the contemporary flair of a cropped blazer, there's a style of women's leather jacket to suit every taste and occasion. By understanding the essential elements of women's leather jackets and how to style them, women can unlock endless possibilities for chic and sleek dressing. So why wait? Embrace the timeless appeal of women's leather jackets and elevate your style today.

#biker #lambskin #racer #varsityjackets #leatherjackets #menjackets #shopping #womenjackets

[rebbcamarvels2024]

Complete Home Rebuilding Tasks inside Financial plan

Complete Home Rebuilding Tasks inside Financial plan

Before you strike the principal nail, your home redesigning and improvement activities will confront basic represent the deciding moment focuses en route. Your decisions at these focuses can be basic to the outcome of the venture. To get the vast majority of your renovating dollar, make certain to follow the means beneath to keep your home improvement projects on target and inside financial plan.Senior Living Design

Recruit an expert - Great modelers, planners and workers for hire will add to the underlying expense of the undertaking, however can set aside you cash and dissatisfaction over the long haul. Their experience will assist you with finding plan entanglements early that can cause financial plan and timetable jerk later. So how would you track down a decent engineer, inside fashioner, remodeler or worker for hire? The most ideal way is through informal exchange and references. Converse with your family, companions and collaborators to check whether they as of late finished a renovating project. They might have the option to suggest a decent engineer, inside creator, remodeler or project worker. Additionally decide whether they were happy with the nature of the work they got. Another incredible source can be your nearby procession of homes or home manufacturers affiliation.

Configuration Expenses and Worker for hire Expenses - Most complex renovating ventures will require the administrations of an expert inside planner, designer or worker for hire. Demand that each gives a bid that incorporates an itemized proposition covering the extent of the work, any subcontractors they plan to utilize and the time span for consummation of the work. Do an investigation to decide whether the charges are similar when you search for rates. The deal rate firm might leave you with all the more tidy up and completing work. The pricier bid might incorporate oversight expenses or undertaking the board charges that you can do yourself.

Satisfactory arranging is basic Like any critical venture, appropriate arranging is the way to progress. Take the time from the get-go in the undertaking to invest the quality energy expected to pursue informed choices somewhat early. Make certain to enough survey offers from project workers and don't choose a project worker since they are the least expense supplier or are accessible right away. Get your work done. Select the plan materials cautiously to stay away from expensive changes later.

Foster objectives Foster expense and course of events objectives and stick to them however much as could be expected. Separating the redesigning project into more modest components makes it simpler to appraise the expenses and deal with the course of events later.

Moving your sleeves up-Stay included and contribute where you can. By eliminating old installations, cupboards or doing other tidy up work you can save money on the generally rebuilding project. If proficient, do a portion of the last completing work yourself to likewise drive down the expenses. Painting, clean up or introducing spigots or different installations yourself can keep you inside spending plan and provide you with the fulfillment of realizing you did a portion of the work yourself.

Plan Decisions and Customizations-Utilizing custom cabinetry, windows, entryways or different items can rapidly drive the expenses up for any home improvement project. This is one of the area where you can practice a lot of command over the expenses. A standard window at your neighborhood home improvement store costs roughly $300, however a specially estimated window will cost over two times. A few components of the task should be site explicit and perhaps modified. In any case, some item classes - like windows, entryways and cabinetry - offer a wide assortment of standard or semi-custom decisions. Adding your own trim or embellishments later may go with these standard decisions look modified.

Deviations create setbacks Don't allow yourself to get derailed. For instance, assuming you are painting your room and you find that the connecting family room paint presently looks grimy, don't get diverted. Plan the other space for one more end of the week. The craving to add or change en route will be enticing and may demonstrate compelling. On the off chance that your redesigning projects adhere to the first arrangement, most will get done on schedule and inside financial plan.

To diminish scope and abstain from raising expenses during your redesigning projects, make certain to deal with the factors en route appropriately. Assessing costs for home improvement projects is both a workmanship and a science. The better you plan, deal with those factors and adhere to the first arrangement the more probable you are to be happy with the task and complete it inside your expense and timetable spending plans.Bangkok architect