#wanted to do more of da prompts but alas.

[justferal]

#stardustcc March 22: favorite era (this one)

#HI for the love of god HELLO #fob #artz #fall out boy #illustration #stardustcc #tried to finish this for a week good gawd #wanted to do more of da prompts but alas. #patrick stump

[giggly-squiggily]

G A S P ! Imagine if ticklemonster Douma got his hands on one of those feather boas?! Screw it, can I please request that as a fic prompt?😂😂

*cackles in glee* Oh my god this one was so fun to write aklekjrajkerjkae I've gotcah covered, anon! This is hilariously cute!

Cloud 9 (Taglist)

@myreygn @thatbigbisexual29 @duckymcdoorknob @wolfyeatstacos @gladdygirl18 @baby-tickles2022 @cupcake-spice13 @backy-san @t-wordiiish

“La la La~ Da da da~ Da da~ La de da~” Douma twirled about the room, across his shoulders sat the fluffiest looking snake Rui had ever seen in his life. Though, it wasn’t a snake- not really.

“Her lips were red, her skin the moon, when she turned to me, oh how I swooned~” Douma sang out, leaning back dramatically and pulling the fluffy snake closer to him. “I wished her to be my bride, but alas I was blind! For she-”

“Douma.” Rui spoke up, his curiosity getting the better of him. “What is that?”

Douma looked over, starting out of his song. Then he smiled, making his way over. With a flick of his wrist, he pulled the snake across Rui’s shoulders, giving it a shake. “Why this? This is my feather boa! I got it from one of my followers. Lovely, isn’t it?”

Rui scrunched up as the fluffy garment tickled along his ears and neck, a soft giggle escaping his lips. “It’s tickly.”

“Is it now?” Douma seemed to glow with mischief as he wiggled the boa some more, earning even more soft giggles from the spider demon. “Soft to the touch and able to make you laugh? I’m glad to have been given such a prize!”

“Given what now?” Kokushibou asked in the background, brows furrowing as he watched Douma pull the fluffy garment back over his own shoulders. “What in the world is that?”

“A feather boa! A gift.” Douma struck a pose, shimmying his shoulders to make the fluff dance. “Do you love it?”

“I’m…unsure.” Kokushibou’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as he watched Douma wiggle up to him. Taking in the hot pink material and the glittery ends, he blinked slowly. “It’s…unique.”

“I’ll take that in a good way!” Douma stretched out a hand, wiggling the end of the boa into the taller demon’s face. “I feel something being awakened in me. It’s as if my past self was a theater performer and he wants to come out.”

Douma did a quick number as he twirled around Kokushibou, flicking the boa with him as he hummed another tune. When he was before him once again, he pulled the boa over the taller demon, yanking him forward so they were chest to chest. “Would you like to be my partner, Koku?”

“I think I’ll pass. Dancing isn’t my thing.” Kokushibou tried to ease the other away, but Douma only pulled him closer, smiling deviously. “Douma- please release me.”

“Dance with me first.” He brought the Boa up so it hung around Koku’s shoulders, giving it a fluff and making the taller demon scrunch some. “I’ve always wanted to waltz with you.”

“Ew, Douma and Koku are flirting.” Akaza mock groaned as he came in, taking Rui’s hand. “Come on, Spidey-squirt; let’s go find your dreamer companion.”

“Wait-” Kokushibou went to call out, but the word caught in his throat when the boa scurried along his skin, brushing his ears and shoulders. “Douma-heegh! Pleahehase!”

“Hmm, what’s so funny?” The blonde grinned, gathering both ends of the Boa with one hand and pulling gently, letting his hand push past the folds of Kokushibou’s Yukata to get his ribs. “Tell me~”

Kokushibou stammered before doubling over, fighting down the giggles as he held onto Douma’s shoulders. “D-Douma! E-enohoohough!” His laughter was rich and deep, shaking them both with the force he was suppressing them with.

“Let it out, Koku~”

And let it out he finally did. Giving into Douma’s antics, he let himself relax into his arms, barely fighting back as the blonde skittered his fingers up and down his side with gentle touches. “Ahehahahahahha! Yoohoohoohohu’re a peehhehehrsueahahhahahasive ohoohoohohne!”

“And you’re quite handsome when you laugh.” Douma grinned, pulling the Boa back up so it rested against his shoulders, freeing his hands. Bringing them up, he wrapped them around Kokushibou’s neck, standing up on his toes so he could press a kiss against his smiling mouth. “Hi.”

“Hello there.” Kokushibou replied, lips twitching.

“Dance with me?” Douma asked again, waggling his brows. The six eyed demon sighed before taking his waist, steadying them both.

“If you insist.” As he began to lead, the sound of strummed music filled the room. Nakime was somewhere nearby. “How long-”

“Eyes on me.” Douma demanded softly, turning Koku’s chin back so they were watching eachother once more. If he had eyebrows, Koku would be raising them high at Douma’s boldness. “For this song and the next, you’re mine and mine alone.”

“So demanding.” Kokushibou tsked, even as he let himself follow the soothing beat of Nakime’s tune, guiding Douma around the room with ease.

“It’s the boa. Gives me powers.” Douma shimmied his shoulders, making the material flutter and shake with him. 

“Those being?”

“The power to make handsome demons with six eyes and long hair fall in love with me.” Douam smiled, all teeth. Kokushibou let out a huff of a laugh.

“You don’t need a boa to do that.” He reached out, taking Douma’s chin in his hand with a quirk of his lips. “You’ve had me for a long, long time.”

Thanks for reading!

#demon slayer #tickle #tickle fic #douma #kokushibou #kokudouma #fluff #feather boas #I'm really digging this ship holy- #We're vibing now :D #12 moons #upper moons

[invisibleraven]

Imagine your OTP with Character A secretly learning Character B’s mother language to say stupid pick-up lines to them / Rulie

Also for @innytoes who agrees this prompt is extremely Rulie coded.

“Damn you owl!” Reggie scowled as he tosses his phone across the couch.

“Did you get Rick Rolled by an owl?” Luke asked, not even looking up from the song he was working on.

“Something like that,” Reggie grumbled.

Alex picked up the phone, and bit back a grin as he saw the screen. “Bonita, not bonito.”

“Stupid feminization,” Reggie replied. “It’s screwed me up more than once.”

“Should I ask why?” Alex asked, nodding at the phone as he handed it to Reggie.

“I think you know why,” Reggie replied.

Willie peered over his shoulder and smiled. “Dude if you want to learn Spanish there is a whole ass family willing to teach you.”

“I want it to be a surprise,” Reggie replied.

“Also I doubt he wants to ask Ray how to flirt with Julie in Spanish,” Luke smirked.

Reggie sputtered at that, but it wasn’t like he could deny it. He figured if he hit Julie with truly epic lines in Spanish she might grant him a second glance. Or at least laugh in that way that he loved-all crinkly eyes and letting her smile shine.

But languages had never been his strong suit, and well there was only so much that Duolingo could teach him.

Yet he was still here, struggling along as he learned the basics, dog earring his Spanish English dictionary, and watching a lot of movies with subtitles turned on.

“This is a stupid plan isn’t it?” he asked.

“I think it’s adorable!” Willie proclaimed. “I know I would super appreciate it if a guy learned another language for me.”

“Even if it’s just to flirt?” Alex countered. “Because I can learn conversational Japanese if you want. Though you’d have an easier time learning German.”

“Anyways…” Reggie drawled before those two started at it again. But before he could continue that thought, they all heard the door to Julie’s house open, meaning she was headed this way for band practice.

“You got this Romeo,” Luke said, clapping on the back.

“Romeo was Italian,” Alex piped up.

“Zorro?”

“Close enough.”

With that they high tailed it out, greeting Julie, claiming they were going on a snack run. Despite the fact that Ray always kept the garage well stocked.

She shook her head as she entered the garage-she would never get these guys. But then she noticed Reggie, fiddling with the ends of his flannel, an almost queasy smile on his face. “Hey Reg.”

“Hola,” he replied. “¿Dónde están tus alas?”

“My what?” Julie asked with a giggle and Reggie hoped his pronunciation wasn’t as horrendous as he thought it was.

“Alas,” he repeated. “Porque eres un ángel.”

“Gracias,” she replied, a tiny blush painting her cheeks. “I didn’t know you spoke Spanish.”

“I’m still learning,” he stated. “I didn’t butcher it too badly did I?”

“It still has a pulse,” Julie said. “Can I ask why you decided to learn Spanish? I could have taught you.”

“I wanted to surprise you,” Reggie murmured.

“Well it’s a lovely surprise,” Julie said, looping her arms around his neck. “Though you need to work on rolling your R’s.”

“I can do that,” Reggie replied swaying them back and forth. “Rrrrrobot. Rrrrrribbit. Rrrrrreggie.”

Julie giggled, nuzzling their noses together. “Me das dolor de cabeza, mi lindo.”

“That means you think I’m cute right?” Reggie asked, his smile almost blinding.

“Si,” Julie replied. “El más lindo.” Then pulled him in for a kiss that made Reggie forget every language he knew.

But it didn’t matter because that kiss was easy to understand-no translation needed.

#filled prompts #ficlet #rulie #julie and the phantoms

[dragoncityinteriordesign]

The question you never knew you wanted to ask was, “If a bird was also a human, would she dress normal?” Lucky for you, Ya Qing is here with the answer: oh good heavens no.

Ya Qing dresses like a Drag Race contestant got the challenge prompt “Edgar Allen Poe” and had only ever read one thing by Edgar Allen Poe. Her outfit is a combination of thrift-store finds and things you could not find at a thrift store because no one ever wore them in the first place. She looks like a Victorian widow and somebody’s “fallen angel” OC had a transporter accident. I love this for her.

Let’s do this top-down:

Her fascinator is doing amazing triple duty with its poof of feathers, the sparkly beading in the center, and the lightweight mourning veil that hovers menacingly over her forehead. Her hair is pulled back in two braids on either side, each of which gets run through two silver beads; the rest of it gets knotted into a high ponytail that kind of gets lost underneath all the feathers. Whatever burgundy she’s chosen for the highlights, it’s really working for her.

She’s got a single earring on her left ear, one that connects with a chain up to an ear cuff like she’s Bajoran, and the ear cuff has extra wind-chime-like danglies on it. Based on this and the single earring Da Qing wears, I thought briefly they might be going with a thing where all the yashou have single earrings, which would have been a great costuming choice. But alas, no. (For all Zhu Hong loves her necklaces, she doesn’t wear earrings at all.)

Strange as it seems based on the overall effect, I don’t think she’s wearing a dress per se. It looks to me like her outfit is three parts: a feathered cape, a lacy high-cut bodysuit, and a long skirt. In one of the shots up there, you can see both her shoulder and part of her side, which makes it look like what’s covering her torso is disconnected from the other pieces. The bodysuit has a thick, stiff collar, which suits her pretty long neck.

The feathered cape is ... well, it’s a lot. Obviously most of it’s happening around her shoulders, where there’s big sprays of flight feathers just behind her neck and down around her shoulders, with a downy layer between them. It has sleeves too, but those sleeves are like Nightmare Boy’s, in that they’re slit up the side and therefore mostly just suggestions of sleeves. It also has a long cape down the back, almost as long as her skirt is and of the same material, which sometimes makes it hard to tell where one stops and the other starts.

Her gloves are everything. They’re so weird. On the tops of her fingers and the backs of her forearms, they’re a completely different lace pattern from her bodice; underneath, they’re solid leather. They go up just below her elbows, where they stop with a curtain of thin loose silver chains. I cannot tell if the chains are attached to the gloves, or if they’re just an extra layer she’s strapped on. When she has her arms by her sides, her almost-sleeves mostly hide them; this is good, because they have the amazing effect of looking great in motion and kinda doofy when they’re just dangling there.

That asymmetrical pleather belt is every belt my mother owned in 1987.

I love her skirt, which has so many layers that it gives her extra menacing vibes whenever she’s walking. It’s full enough that it’s got about five different hemlines all going at the same time, and it’s long enough that it brushes the ground when she walks. Alas, I couldn’t get a good shot of it, but she’s also got on some amazing chunky-heeled black ankle boots on under there.

I’m assuming that either her look is based on the woman in the first-episode backstory art, or vice versa. However, that lady is clearly supposed to be mutating down in Dixing, so something jumped tracks here. (Obviously Ya Qing herself is in there too, in the shot with all three yashou, but that’s more clearly supposed to be an actual drawing of her final look.)

I also love how absolutely none of the other birdies dress like this. She is indeed the proverbial rara avis.

#guardian #zhen hun #dragon city fashion #yashou

[psalacanthea]

A lil’ bit more of Solas hanging out with the Arainai-Mahariel-Tabris kiddos (and their mom).  Just a blood mage and a traitor god teaching four year olds about how change requires suffering.

Adaia   Ashalle  Cyris and Tamlen

...

Liana glanced up from her food as Cyris and Tamlen came barreling into the Skyhold kitchen, the courtyard door thrown wide.

The servants glanced over, but when it was only the Inquisitor’s children, they went back to work.  Much like Lia herself, her children had become an expected thing, as all of them preferred to use side entrances and be out of sight, rather than marching through that big noisy hall.  She wished desperately that there was an alternate exit to her rooms, but alas.

Her nearly four-year-olds were both scuffed and red-faced, but Zevran had kept his word and they weren’t muddy.  When they came to a stop at her side, Cyris beaming delightedly up at her, she returned the smiles and tilted her head.  The twins shared a look.

“Yes, loves?” she prompted.

Like usual, Cyris took the lead.  “Mumae, Tamlen wants an earring.”

“Can Tamlen tell me that’s true?” she asked, and then sighed and reinforced when the twins immediately looked at each other again instead of at her.  Creators that could be frustrating.  “I need Tamlen to tell me himself, please.”

“Tamlen says–”

“Cyris, let him speak for himself,” Lia interrupted chidingly, and turned her attention to her solemn, blond-haired, golden-eyed son.  He looked, much to everyone’s eternal amusement, almost exactly like his papa Zevran, but was the quietest and gentlest of their children.

All of their da’len were rather pragmatic apart from Tamlen, who would cry over a crushed flower and agonize over every mistake.  Instinctively, all the other children tended to protect him.  It was sweet, but it would make things difficult when they tried to do everything for him.

Tamlen nodded, eyes serious and calm.  “Yes.  Cyris too, mumma.”

“Like papa an’ da!” Cyris agreed, voice scaling up in excitement.

“Well, we’ve had this talk before, and you know the rules.  I will do your ears, or just one ear, but when you say stop, I stop.  Because it will hurt.  If you’re ready, you’ll be able to sit and not say stop for the whole time.  Yes?”  Lia smiled at their shared nod, giving one of her own.  “It’s okay if you need to cry, you can even yell!  Nobody likes pain.  But if you want to wear earrings, there has to be pain.  Yes, cubs?  Do you understand that?”

She got her ‘yes mamae’s before she would relent.  Lia had known this would happen eventually, all of the children loved to emulate their parents.  An earring wasn’t too far, in her opinion, they were so young that even if they healed the ears with magic, they would still grow over in time.  There was no reason to say no.  

Well, she doubted either of them would actually manage to go through it, but she’d been surprised too many times by children to rule it out.

Especially hers.

“Well, let us see if Hahren has time to help us,” she decided, before gathering up her chicks.

Once she’d retrieved her kit and informed Derry and Zevran of what was happening (and they’d bet on if the twins would go through with it), they found Solas and asked if he would come be their healer.  Lia was annoyed with the necessity, but she’d promised herself to limit her blood magic usage when in Chantry custody.  Every time she called it custody she knew Leliana would get annoyed, which might have been why she was still saying it.

They’d even forced her to be Inquisitor, she’d say what she wanted.

Things were…rocky between her and Leliana.

Solas seemed interested in the proposition, and they adjourned to a nearby balcony, where there were no witnesses to berate her for piercing her four year olds’ ears at their request.  Humans could be odd.  Even some city elves– their grandfather Cyrion still would fuss over the idea of the children getting tattoos.

As if she would deny them a perfectly reasonable request.

Clasping the brightly-dyed, felted piercing kit her foster mother had made for her, Lia gazed down at her sons, crouching before them as they sat on the balcony.  She met Cyris’ fearless brown eyes, and then Tamlen’s sober golden ones.  They still seemed steadfast, though Cyris was upset because he wanted a ‘ring earring, not a dot’.  But she had her limits, and risking a ripped earlobe on a four year old was one of them.

“Now,” Lia said once they were settled, Solas standing by with curiosity, his hands clasped behind his back.  “It is time for an important speech, because you decided you’re old enough for this, yes?”

The twins looked at one another, and then Cyris nodded firmly.  Lia waited, though, until Tamlen nodded as well.  It wasn’t hesitance, just his usual habit of forgetting that he had to speak for himself.  She returned the nod.

“You did not choose your body.  You were born with it, yes?”

“Not like Cole,” Cyris said, as quick as always.  “Cole was a spirit, mumae.  Like Justice!”  He confided this with the air of someone sharing a great secret.

“Mmh.  Like your friend Justice.  But we are talking of your bodies, little mischief.  A body is important for many things.  It keeps you safe, and can keep others safe, and helps you take care of others.  It lets you make life, like mamae and papa made you.  It lets you experience joys spirits do not understand.  Like sweets, and swimming–”

“An’ frogs,” Cyris interrupted, gleefully off-track as usual.

Creators, they were probably too young for this talk, but it had to be done.

“And frogs,” Lia said, and she knew she hadn’t hidden her exasperation as much as she’d wanted, because Solas smiled faintly.  “We must take care of our bodies, so it can bring us joy.  But sometimes our bodies don’t look the way we want, so we change them.  With clothes, art, or jewelry, or even bigger things, like when Uncle Gaharan from clan Lavellan removed his breasts.  Do you remember?”

Cyris shook his head, but Tamlen nodded hesitantly.  That was fair.  They hadn’t seen any of the clans since they were newly turned three, and a four year old’s memory could be quite short.  

“Do you remember when Tamlen cried because we had to cut off some of his hair that got caught in the bramble?”  This time she got very emphatic nods from both of them, and even a little tearing up from her most sensitive child.  Cyris took his hand firmly, a little protective gesture that softened her heart as always.  “It hurt Tamlen’s heart, but things like tattoos and piercings hurt your body.  Earrings will hurt.”

“A lot, mumma?” Tamlen asked nervously.

“It will.  To change is difficult,” Lia said, lifting the needle in two fingers.

“Mumae, does it hurt the frog?  To be frog?” Cyris asked, little voice stilted by his concern.

Lia understood why it was coming up again– Derry had told her frogs and tadpoles were a current obsession for Cyris’ very hands-on curiosity.  Very well, if frogs it had to be, frogs it would be.  “To change from a little pollywiggle to a frog?  I don’t know if it does, but…growing up always hurts a little, I think.  Do you think hurting a little to have legs and to be able to jump up is okay or–”

“Yes!  Up, up, up!” Cyris agreed, throwing both hands into the air.

“Sometimes to gain something we desire, it hurts,” Solas said quietly. 

Tamlen nodded, voice quiet.  “It’s trade.”

Lia beamed, all the more amused to see Solas’ proud smile as well.  She knew they would wriggle through his defenses eventually.  She’d known it all along.  He had a temperament to get along with children quite well, if he let himself.  Which he had.

“Very good, da’len.  You understood very well,”  Solas complimented Tamlen, who glanced down and fidgeted with his fringed belt shyly.

“When Addie got her t’too, mum said it’s trade for hurt, Hahren.”

Lia flushed, embarrassed to have been caught out.  Solas lifted his gaze slowly, and gave her a condescendingly knowing look.  With a little huff, she rolled her eyes to the side.

“Well, perhaps I’ve given this speech before,” she admitted, ignoring his silent laugh.  Creators.  It wasn’t like she could be blamed for some repetition, she was trying to teach the same things to four very different little people.

“Adaia has a tattoo?”  Solas asked, both eyebrows raising.

“A small one, in a spot that will be easy to cover over when it stretches as she grows,” Lia dismissed, finding it silly to hear Solas say things she’d heard a thousand times from Derry’s side of the family.  “Her da and papa are covered in them, it’s natural to her.  If a child is prepared for the consequences and the discomfort, who am I to say no?”

Solas didn’t bother to hide the subtle smirk that curved up the corner of his wide mouth.  “Their mother, perhaps?  She is only six, Lianalle.”

Lia lifted a hand and flickered it in dismissal, annoyed with him for the very rare usage of her full name.  She knew he did it on purpose.  Smug old man.  “A tattoo does no harm but the pain of receiving it.  Besides, it will be good practice to know what it feels like, for when she receives her Vallaslin.”

Solas’ silence was sudden and profound.  She glanced sidelong at his face, absently using a hand to pull Cyris away from the balcony’s edge.  Although Solas’ face was placid, there was a sudden tension in the muscles at the back of his jaw, a curiously pained emotion in his eyes.  He was hiding something.

She followed his gaze down to Tamlen, who was sitting on the floor still holding Cyris’ hand, gazing at his twin with a small, gentle smile.

Why did it give Solas such an uneasy expression?

“I'm going to poke your fingers with the needle,” she informed her sons.  If Lia was right, that would be enough for one of them to give in, which would make the other one give in.  “If you can stand the finger poke and still want your ear afterwards, I will do your ear.”

“And I will heal you,” Solas agreed.  They shared a look, and he shook his head slightly at her, obviously amused.

She wasn’t as certain as him that they would give up after a single poke.  While neither of them was nearly the bulwark of stubbornness that Adaia was, nor as carefully thoughtful, they were quite adventurous.  For four year olds.

They both took the needle to their cautiously outstretched finger quite well, though Tamlen immediately teared up when he saw the little drop of blood.  Luckily his brother was there to kiss it better, and then Solas to heal it afterward.  Much to her surprise, however, it was at that point that they diverged.

Usually when Tamlen decided to back down about something, Cyris would immediately follow him.  But this time, after their small twin conversation that involved more significant looks than words, Cyris decided he wanted to keep going.  And Tamlen…was all right with that, instead of immediately bursting into tears.

She was rather proud of them both for that choice.

Of course, she only got halfway through piercing Cyris’ ear before he gave up, left with a little bloody hole that Solas healed over.  Thankfully without judgment.  Solas seemed highly amused by the whole process, but interested as well, as she’d rather thought he would be.  

It was an endlessly fascinating thing to watch children learning the rules of life.

When the boys ran off after she dried their tears, unharmed and declaring they would be ‘brave enough soon’, Lia opened the soft felted case again, gazing down at the gleaming needles.

She had no doubt they would be ready sooner rather than later.

“Liana…”

“Mmh?” she asked, glancing up at Solas as she rose from the stone, knees chilled.

“The Vallaslin…” he trailed off, but not out of awkwardness.  More because he knew just how far to push her by now, she thought.  His face was still perfectly composed when she met his measuring gaze.

“Were you going to say something about ‘Dalish nonsense’ again?” she asked him mildly, not worrying too much about it if he were.  By now, at least, she felt comfortable scolding him.  “I thought we already agreed not to have that fight any more.  I let my children call you Hahren, Solas, don’t make me regret it.”

Solas chuckled faintly, the sound a hint strained.  But when she glanced sidelong, his face was placid, and his voice even as he spoke.  “I wonder, as a mother, do you ever fear that the teachings you impart to your children may be…wrong?”

Lia considered that for a moment, and then took a moment longer to filter it through her understanding of his mind.  He thought her gods a farce, or worse, dangerous.  He found Dalish culture to be a misshapen thing because it did not conform to the truths he thought he had seen in the Fade that contradicted it.  Yet he could not truly understand Dalish culture.

How could he educate that which he didn’t first understand?

She knew that he was earnest that the Vallaslin was what bothered him, but wouldn’t doubt for a moment that there was more to his distaste than the process of tattooing young people.  “The details may not all be correct, and I will make mistakes, and pass on some of the mistakes that were taught to me.  But what I worry about are the things the world will teach them when I am not there to protect them.  So I suppose, Solas, the best I can do is teach them to understand the world, how it works for ones such as they, and why it is better to live in it with kindness, nobility of spirit, and resilience.  So that when I, or their fathers are not here, they can pass through the trials and suffering of this world with those qualities intact.”

“Resilience.  Well, their mother certainly exemplifies that quality,” Solas said with an incline of his head.  And then he chuckled.  “Fathers as well, though with a great deal less…dignity.”

Lia laughed, not needing to argue that point with him when he was so very correct. “Zevran and Darian are far more good-hearted than I, however.  I am not kind.  Perhaps that’s why I need them both, to anchor me.  You know, if you found someone to temper your need to always be correct, falon, you might be a good father yourself.”

“You claim I require a partner to correct me?  Do you not find that sentiment as distasteful as I?” Solas countered, raising an eyebrow.

She hid her amusement that she’d needled him.  “Everything we do and everyone we meet changes us, doesn’t it?  Life isn’t a road, and it isn’t a lonely one.  It’s a pond that is constantly shifting, surface rippling with even the most delicate of contacts.  Everything we are touched by changes us, in curious and unexpected ways.”  Unbidden, she glanced down at her marked hand, forehead furrowing as she flexed her fingers.

Solas’ voice eased, softening as it always would when they spoke of her difficulties with the Anchor.  “You would know.  This is your second world-ending cataclysm, after all.”

“The Blight was…different,”  Lia said, troubled as always.  Would that saving the world twice followed the same pattern– she would have preferred it.  “We were so young, and we never had time to look at the scale of what we fought.  It was not so entangled in complications and Thedas-wide politics.  They claim they need these politics to garner the forces we–” She cut off, swallowing her many tearful, terrified speeches that she had only shared with her husbands.  Face and mind calm; emotions should not be so easily shared.  “I fear what ripples I am being forced to make.  And for whom I make them.”

“Yes,” Solas said, an echo of many other conversations they had engaged in, once she had trusted him enough to be honest.  His voice was sober and quiet, thoughtful.  “But necessity must drive us, da’len.”

Lia shot him a sidelong look, lips pursing.  “Da’len?”

“Ir abelas,” Solas said, with the faintest twitch of his lips.

She narrowed her eyes at him.  “You should be calling me hahren.”

“I beg your pardon?” Solas scoffed.

She lifted a needle, spinning it in her fingers.  “Will you be brave, then, Solas?  I’m here prepared, but with nothing to pierce.”

“I find myself in no need of decoration,” he replied, eyeing the needle in her hand.  “We struggle through a time of great change, and there are enough without my adding to them.”

“Or you could embrace the change, and let yourself change as well, falon.  Even if only a little, and frivolously.  In a way that brings you joy.”  With a sad smile she tucked the needle away into the felt case, voice slowing.  “Joys are in short enough supply.  We must take what small ones we can.”

Solas was quiet for a time, but when she glanced away from the vista of distant mountains to his face, there was a ghost of a smile at the very corners of his eyes, nearly reaching his lips.

“Perhaps another time,” he said quietly.

With a small nod, she turned back for the door, slipping the woven leather cord around the case and tying it securely.  She had a foot past the threshold when Solas spoke again.  She was pleased to hear a hint of humor in it.

“Were you aware that your husband cheats at cards?”

Lia smirked to herself, tucking the case into the front of her tunic.  “Oh my, yes.  Zevran mentioned you’d demanded another game.  He will cheat again.”  That thought was tinged with overwhelming affection.

“And he will lose,” Solas replied with calm confidence.

“I look forward to seeing it.  It will doubtless be very entertaining,” she said, smiling to herself as she departed.

A small joy– a brief reprieve from the pain.

#Solas fic #Cyris Tabris #Tamlen Tabris #Liana Mahariel #(yes Inquis is Mahariel) #zevran arainai #Darian Tabris

[silvanils]

I was tagged by @melisusthewee to share fics I’ve been working on recently! Alas, I’ve still been struggling with burn-out, so I wanted to wait for creator reveals for the DA Poly Exchange to go live so I could include the stuff I created for that - I’m really happy with those works!

1. call me by my name (Rating: E)

The Marquis cut his way through the Horned Knight's bramble-maze to rescue his Bard. Now, he is desperate to keep him.

(Inspired by a da drunk writing circle prompt.)

* There are simply not enough fics for the Last Court. The detail I had the most fun working into this fic is the gradual shift into use of True Names, even within the Marquis’ own head.

2. Corner of the Sky (Rating: T)

The year is 9:46 Dragon. Kieran has been staying in Denerim for months, now, but he still does not feel welcome despite all of King Alistair's efforts. It has also become increasingly clear to anyone with eyes that the boy is not a simple ward: he is Alistair's son, and may well be the King's only heir. As a celebration in Redcliffe for Ferelden's heroes draws closer, the rumors only grow louder. Kieran shies away from the attention, good or ill, but...

What he truly wants may yet surprise even him.

* This is still a work in progress. I really love writing about the dynamics of Kieran’s relationships with King Alistair, the Ferelden nobility, and the city elves.

3. no rolling eyes, no irony (Rating: E)

Quinn Trevelyan has been keeping a secret from those closest to him. They find out just in time to do something about it.

(Written for the DA Poly Exchange.)

* I just adore Quinn. He was so fun to write, and I just HAD to do something with the idea of him lying to everyone to hide his true birthday...

4. That Which Endures (Rating: T)

They converge by chance within the Crossroads, three remnants of a bygone time. Perhaps Felassan and Tiralin can guide Abelas on this strange new path?

(Written for the DA Poly Exchange.)

* I love the concept of Ancient Elves navigating the current era, and the idea of a person’s “Purpose.” (I have a feeling this fic is just the start of something new I need to explore further...)

5. When Shadows Wake (Rating: M)

A new thief in Riften hopes to shake things up and earn some coin, but shadows loom on the horizon. Assassins, bears, civil war, dragons... Eira has an ace or two up her sleeve, but is she a match for Maven Black-Briar, whose honeyed words drip with poison?

(A Thieves Guild centric story that also deals with the Dragon Crisis, the Thalmor, and Skyrim's politics.)

* I’ve been slowly working on more chapters of this story, so! Look forward to some updates soon? I still adore my Skyrim characters. This fic in particular is also my attempt to have the questlines interact more with each other and have over-arching repercussions.

#;knight speaks #;tagged

[yuu-says]

Best Friend Bennett!

Some more bff hcs ft. my best boi!! Boken da boken! Also please send me prompts for benny boi umu I planned to focus on him for feb because of his birthday but alas,,,, head empty, xiao only fbdhsfdsf

Other bff hcs : Kaeya, Childe

                                          »»————-　⚔　————-««

* do you know first aid? You don’t? well now you do oops-

* you’re gonna have to ALWAYS be carrying some type of first aid thingie- a bandaid here, a gauze there, a disinfectant in your pocket; you’re basically his personal nurse now lmao

* dw he pays you with like meals and cuddles and shit uwu uwu you just gotta negotiate uwu

* the two of you met when imitation icarus here accidentally shot himself off a cliff and crash landed in front of you fdshfdsf (the panic you felt that day?? unmATCH E D)

* gives you flowers/a meal from good hunter once he’s recovered as compensation for making you almost lose your mind lmAO

* He’s always seeking you out when he’s not adventuring so he can shower you with gifts and trinkets he got from his travels!! also tells you a bunch of stories whenever the two of you meet its cUTE DAMN

* also very attentive bestie! uwu he’ll pick up on your habits and likes pretty quickly and is always listening to you rant! No matter how late!

* if  you get frustrated from dealing with certain people or just had a very bad day in general, he offers to take you somewhere to where you can clear your head!

* His favourite spot to bring you is the little cliff behind springvale or falcon coast! He especially likes bringing you out around evening~nighttime because the sky is always pretty then!

* yall have sleepovers sometimes because why not!! at your place ofc uwu

* also very touch-starved like he does not care that the two of you are just friends- benny boi will get EVERY chance he gets to have some kind of contact with you !

* its cute how innocent he is ffs

* cheek kisses, hug tackles, hand holding- you name it, he’s probably done it at least once >:3c benny’s a sweet boi tho!! he’ll refrain from it if you express your discomfort uwu

* speaking of being sweet- kid literally just follows all your whims sometimes gfbhdjsfsdf

* you could ask him to wear cat ears and he’d just owo? okay?; concerns himself more with the practicality tho!! if you ask him to wear it when he’s about to go on an adventure, he’s gonna be worried that he’ll burn it by accident oof-

* also loves matching with you?? you guys have one (1) matching shirt and a pairing bracelet so he can remember you if he travels out too long uwu

* ben really treasures the things that matches with you?? or anything that you give him basically!!

* you gave him a lucky charm once and his return was delayed by a week because he lost it while fighting and didn’t want to go home without it aW

* benny just loves his friends okay uwu uwu

* instead of benny being protective of you (he knows you can take care of yourself! He’s seen the way you bonk ruin guards when you go out with him lmao!), its you who’s protective over him fbdsh

* has, on occasions, been forced to hold you back because you wanted to murder people who were talking badly about him (even when he tells you its fine, that it doesn’t faze him, you’re still gonna stand up for him like thaTS M Y BESTIE DAMNIT-)

#headcanons #bennett genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #bennett x reader

[nafeary]

Cuddles and Snuggles with the Ikevamp Suitors

Anon asked:

Hello 👋, can I have some really short and maybe flowery scenarios of the Ikevamp suitors cuddling? Just some cute little paragraph (that can turn smutty but doesn’t have to be) I really really like your style of writing, you see. Thank you!!!!

Heya! I love love love requests like these, they really make my day. Considering I didn’t want to give everything the same plot, I figured I’d just allow my creative freedom to run rampage.

I’m sorry I haven’t been posting much, but school is keeping me pretty busy (a week of holidays are coming up tho hehehehe). This has been sitting in my WIPs for an eternity, and I finished the last five bois today (it’s Sunday/Monday midnight by the time I’m scheduling this YEET).

I hope you’ll all manage to find some comfort in this, and I hope you’ll all enjoy (and remember to drink water~)

Also, I don’t care what Cybird says; Theo is 186cm and I do not take criticism on this.

Warnings: implied sexual intercourse (only for Leo tho), otherwise only toothrottingly sweet fluff... maybe angst, too. Blame Aki)

Napoleon Bonaparte

『laying siege to your heart』

Laughter prompted your body to tremor in delight upon seeing the form of your lover snuggling his blanket, spilling into the room in coaction with the afternoon rays streaming in buoyant ribbons. Napoleon lethargically peeked past his lashes, grinning as he grasped your hand to pull you into his awaiting arms.

Your head fit perfectly underneath his chin, your bodies an amalgamation of puzzle pieces enjoying their reunion. You allowed a few teasing quips to spill from your lips, regretting to have done so tout de suite as your body writhed beneath his butterfly kisses tickling your nape. The most darling sounding giggles encompasses your ears, eliciting some of your own as you tried your best to escape his tight embrace.

Eventually, he stilled, burying his face into the crook of your neck, and holding you for what felt like an entire eternity—no ounce of egomania weighed upon you, the fierceness of it brought forth by his sheer adoration for yourself. And even if he were to lay siege for an eternity, you couldn’t see yourself caring if you were pledged with no disparate treatment.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

『moonlight tryst』

If there was one thing you’ve come to cherish, it would be the time of the moon, when it reigned the sky in its eerie glory. You’ve never been able to see the stars’ purity, constellations clearer than ever before. Perchance, the appreciation stemmed from the company the firmament would gift you with, when the other half of your bed was frozen and weeping alongside you in abandonment. Yet, as you mused your loneliness, approaching echoes of heels hitting the tiled floor incited your gaze to leave the stars, instead turning to embrace the sight of your lover coming to join you to your tryst.

Stars melted into fervid streams of gems, pouring upon Wolf’s skin, hair, and eyes, aiding his appearance to leave you blinded beneath its ethereal irradiance. You picked up a ribbon le Comte had gifted you long ago, jesting the embroidered amethysts would gracefully accompany the composer’s own set of eyes; but the juxtaposition left you disenchanted at the blunt and transparent crystals, opting to tie his alabaster strands with it, shivering slightly as you parted a curtain over his nape.

He enfolded your hands with his, hastily trying to get it off. However, his lips were quickly claimed by his muse, pouring every emotion and feeling you could gather into it. You were glad for the minuscule distraction, even more so as his arms fell limp, succumbing to your passion—nay, not without teasing remarks, leaving your pounding heart at the wolf’s mercy, and carrying your cries into the night in concordance with the owls’ song.

Leonardo da Vinci

『the gift of light』

At times, your relationship felt like stumbling through an obsidian forest, the only object not the plunged into abyssal realms a map to show you the right path. The map knew everything, could achieve anything, would create the unimaginable, while you were left impotently relying one its guidance.

Leonardo was aware of these clouds obscuring your emotions, hindering your felicity, and he was unsure whether he should act upon it. Perchance, it would leave you in deeper misery, but he’d take the chance to undress the light in your eyes.

You essentially knew that that was what a relationship with Leonardo da Vinci would result in; after all, no one could possibly match his genius. Natheless, the string pinioning your souls was stubborn, and it would be near impossible for anything to deter you from this love.

As you straddled him, panting in exhaustion with sweat glistening like deep sea pearls across your bodies, he slid his hands past your ears, tugging on the ribbon keeping your hair up. They ran past your bare shoulders, a cascade of bougainvillea shadowing the outside world from seeing your lover’s flushed expression. With his hands still resting on your cheeks, he pulled you toward himself, capturing your lips with raw ardour. A gossamer simper slumbered onto his face just as the sun announced the arrival of dayspring, enkindling the forest in the light of dawn.

Arthur Conan Doyle

『cosy and secluded dancing』

A myriad of candles appeared to dance within the salon, frolicking in the gentle zephyrs through the opened window. The lovers exuded the impression of pure serenity, swaying in each other’s clutches in synchronisation with the flames.

A saxophone urged your feet to tap along the tiled floor, the beat accompanying the agute anecdotes Arthur shared with you. A simper blossomed on your face as the topic of them always managed to include yourself in some way or another; you’d taken notice of this the further you relationship wrote itself. And just like his words filled the paper with ease under the influence of his fountain of delight, so did the words pertaining to your mutual ardour.

As you allowed your lips to meet his nose, perplexity pulled your brows into a furrow—how anyone could just accept all the malicious comments of “mongrel”, “bastard”, and other vile slurs without retaliating in defense was beyond you, especially when a simple action like yours dissolved him into a fumbling mess, his footing faltering to and fro akin to the rustling branches outside. It was nothing but a mystery, but he was your mystery. And you had more than enough time to solve him, buoyantly filling the paper with breathings of your love along the way.

Vincent Van Gogh

『picnic in a flower meadow』

There was nothing but warmth—the ground, the breeze, the sun’s ever so gentle embrace on this bright autumn’s day, creating an atmosphere of absolute serenity.

However, the sun wasn’t the only one to embrace you. You felt your lover’s breathing gently caressing your face, his heartbeat beneath your head the sole sound next to the sunflowers’ ever so tranquil rustling.

Another breeze ruffled his flaxen tufts of hair, eliciting the tiniest of giggles as they brushed against his nose. As his hands rose up to brush your hair, he gifted to with the most brilliant grin, the epitome of an angel walking amongst mortals.

It made you nuzzle closer into his chest, inhaling the wonted scent of paint and dried sunflowers. Opting to enjoy these last moments of your picnic with the artist, your eyes fluttered close to the most ethereal sight on earth.

Theodorus Van Gogh

『unfeigned aftermath of a fight』

Ire was not strange to him, acquaintances till death, for sure. Nevertheless, these kind of manners didn’t appeal to him, but charading as the scapegoat for his brother’s wealth has made him into the devil’s advocate—and old habits hardly perish.

His hands caught the last few droplets of despair running down your chin, stroking your own pair of hands as he held you from behind. A few moments prior, he had shown you his quiet, oftentimes guarded, ardour, carrying these words to your ear. It left you nearly broken, the brush having stumbled across the artwork, red marks littering the void. But as fast as the shade spread, so did the greens and blues, the yellows and whites; if someone knew how to fix these mistakes, it was Theo himself.

In favour of his height, he straightened to place his chin atop your head, allowing you to lean into him. You couldn’t even remember what miscellaneous things you’d been fighting about, rendering your throats hoarse and your hearts wound; alas, as perilous as his clamours were, he never failed to apologise, whispering adorations as sweet as the saccharine treats he enjoyed.

Truly, as painful as some words could be, he always committed to proving you his worth. He just didn’t realize that that was irrelevant; after all, your devotion for him ran deeper than any slash could ever reach.

Dazai Osamu

『tranquil lazing in the garden』

Amidst the most delicate petals and the green leaves, the pond’s reflection of two twirling birds was similar to the lovers leaning against an oak, intertwined branches unable to release their hold.

You were situated between his legs, his broad chest acting as your pillow of comfort. It was a serene kind of purity, the meadow’s song—flora and fauna uniting to create a serenade of peace—coaxing your pair into a state free of despair and ire. That is, until he let his lips flutter down your exposed neck, prompting you to grip the flesh of his thighs a bit tighter.

The butterfly kisses didn’t appear to end anytime soon, not that you payed it much negative mind. A simper danced across both of your faces as a butterfly, with gossamer wings fluttering gently, landed on your lover’s finger, drawing a titter to resound throughout the garden.

He beheld your reach for the lepidopteran creature, the flaxen colours scintillant in your orbs. Perchance this little guy was an omen of genuine ebullience. However, certainty belay onto his thoughts, knowing that you were nothing but a sign of fortune, even to someone as tainted as himself.

Isaac Newton

『snuggles to chase away self doubt』

Unrelentingly, you pushed chocolate into his calloused hands, pledging that the tryto-something—“it’s tryptophan, darling”—would surely lift his solemn mood, clouds of doubt and pressure weighing upon him. He’d been used to the wallowing forlorn, solus; he’d been used to secluding himself apart from any comfort helping hands could give.

But now, now he’d been exposed to a star, more lucent than the North Star could ever dream to be, which shared its balmy rays with him, never imploring for anything in return.

As the slightly bitter treat melted in his mouth, he pulled the almost oneiric appearance of his sweetheart closer to him, your foreheads colliding together to display the sanguine shade of his fiery cheeks. Both of you chortled at his endearing ardency, finding yourself neglecting the light mound rising from the top of your head as you beheld his cherry blossom orbs.

He wasn’t a man of many words, his thoughts the stars he couldn’t fathom into constellations; and while all he could manage were the faintest pleas of gratitude, you knew that that was his crisp layer masking the dispatch of genuineness. Underneath, he was just as sweet and fulfilling as the fruit he so hastily denied. These obstinate and vexing thoughts pulled at the corners of his mouth, but you were swift in your endeavor to diminish them, letting your fingers glissade like zephyrs through the wild locks of salmon and ever so gently massaging him with their tips.

Jean d’Arc

『eskimo kisses and pep talks』

Jean oftentimes felt as if the world was weighing upon his lungs, threatening to suffocate him from the inside out. With his wings clipped and feet bound, all be could was sing in fear and cry for help, knowing he was undeserving of such feat. And yet, you were holding him closer than he’d ever been held before, kissing every scar, every painful remainder of his past, with the force of what could only be described as love.

He’d call himself vile names, thinking nothing much of it, and you’d never grasped what he meant. Moronic? His gentleness spoke of wisdom that many men could only dream of owning. Appalling? You would incessantly reassure him that his arms were your favorite place to while in, and that you wanted to feel his pulse through your veins. Ugly? His eyes met the moon and became almost prismatic as he claimed so, releasing that inhumanly beautiful hue of disenthralled, limitless amethysts, his skin reflecting the pale alabaster rays. How could a person so stunning and breathtaking be ugly? A person so kind and selfless?

Jean scoffed at your sentiment; withal, he allowed himself to succumb to his selfishness, brushing your nose with his own in an anguished assay to express his gratitude. You responded with a glee, succumbing to his endearing affection. He could only yearn for you to be able to withstand the barrel of infinity that he was bound to curse you with.

William Shakespeare

『interruptions ft puck』

You rose to the canorous breathing of your lover, nay, soulmate; that much was apparent judging by the euphoria encompassing your entire being at the sole mention of his name. It perplexed you how you were able to manage waking up to this empyrean sight without your heart granting the artist its last applause.

From his flushed checks, to his bare chest exposed to your own, to his lean arms reaching around yourself to tangle his fingers within your mane, more delicate and loving than the activities of the previous night required—you knew you were borne under a lucky star, whose only affiliation could possibly be be playwright claiming you his, cradling you with nothing but the zephyrs of a quiet twilight downpour.

You noticed a few candles he’d lit, most likely while you still rested, and they carried scents of raspberry sorbet, wafting around you in refreshing sprites. They were made my William himself, akin to the abundance of objects you’d sentimentally ramble about; and yet, he’d obstinately organise the most trivial things, no matter the obstacle of time and place.

Warmth engulfed your heart, your mind and being at how utterly cherished you were within his arms, and a few tears threatened their exeunt, but you suppressed your expression to the best of your ability, not wanting to worry him ignominiously. The fortunate appearance of your favourite character from the playwright’s own little story supported your despair de trop—even if he might not have intended to.

The little bunny hopped onto your lover’s head, staring down at you as if to mark his own territory. However, this attempt only prompted laughter to spill from your lips, and it amplified as William plucked Puck from his hair, placing him in midst of your tangled limps.

Comte de Saint-Germain

『napping in front of his fireplace』

The fireplace was ablaze, each scarlet flame radiating heat as the fumes frolicked in delight. With your legs angled to your lover’s lap and your fingers clutching his dress shirt, you were curled into the man’s side, the sofa cushioning your assay to sleep.

Your eyes fluttered open when you felt the snug quilt slide over your shoulders, meeting brilliant gold whose owner was busy with shielding you from the frigid cold. His hand released the fabric, instead opting to ever so carefully grasp your chin, as if frightened you were a withering rose.

Words of adoring troths danced on your lips, assuring him that you weren’t fragile, that he mustn’t fret upon your disappearance. He could only place a kiss between your brows, aware that silence weighed more than words ever could; his mirth was apparent as he pulled you closer to him, wanting nothing but to transcend time and space for his other half.

Sebastian

『oreos, milk, and ice cream』

There were certain difficulties when your heart belonged to two people, but even more so when it belonged to multiple places—or periods. Nevertheless, being employed to a time-traveling and immortal boss had its certain advantages.

You knew he longed for these items as much as you did, yet only organised them as you uttered these fantasies in a sleepy stupor. Enthusiasm spurring the atmosphere, you scooped the icy vanilla custard into crystalline bowls, improvident about the dampness coating your fingers. Before the fallen spoon could hit the ground, your lover caught it, trapping your back against his chest as he placed it back onto the counter.

His reverberating laughter prompted your own, enjoying the sensation of the flush body enbosoming your own. Arms winding across your chest, further strengthening the protective cocoon, a feather brushed your neck as he kissed with the ilk of cotton fields. You couldn’t halt the goosebumps from waltzing to the rhythm of his teasing, rather opting to stuff an Oreo past his appealing lips.

Tag list: @juminly @kisara-16 @sweetlittlemouse @thesirenwashere @nad-zeta @delicateikemenmemes

#ikemen vampire #ikemen series #ikevamp #ikemen headcanons #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen napoleon #ikemen leonardo #ikemen mozart #ikemen arthur #ikemen vincent #ikemen theodorus #ikemen theo #ikemen dazai #ikemen isaac #ikemen jean #ikemen shakespeare #ikemen william #ikemen le comte #ikemen comte #ikemen sebastian

[lettersnorth]

Prompt #22: Fluster

There are some people whose orbit a person struggles to escape. Like a moon that is forever trapped circling a planet. 

Sterling was such a person.

Though in Aislinn’s opinion the planet analogy was too generous. Sterling was a black hole. A crushing void that pulled a body closer and ever closer until they were inevitably swallowed whole and not even dust remained. And he did it all with a smile.

She didn’t feel it was too far an exaggeration.

Aislinn had first seen Sterling from the front step of the one room flat she and her da called home in Ul’dah. Calling it home was sarcasm on her part. A sentiment that did not go overlooked by her father. Two more aimless bodies in a wave of Ala Mhigan refugees the city hadn’t asked for and didn’t want. 

At that time, she spent most of her days fending off boredom by fixing broken mammets people had tossed in the trash. If their chassis were still in relatively good shape she could sometimes sell them back to a few peddlers and merchants in the area. If they were too badly dinged up for the shops, there were more than enough children in the low parts of Ul’dah who were more than happy to get their hands on a real, working mammet, dented or not.

That was when she first saw him, traveling down the crooked, dusty street like he belonged, which she knew he didn’t because she had sat out on this front step long enough to know the faces of everyone that lived in this broken down section of the city. But he walked with a purpose, his gait easy, boarding on lackadaisical, while the set of his shoulders made it clear he wasn’t some foolhardy mark who had taken a wrong turn and lost his way. He never stayed long and she would see him pass by again, going back the way he came. 

She first met Sterling on a miserable, raining day. The kind of day that turned the streets to mud and brought out the stench of the slums in a particularly aromatic fashion. 

Her front step having no overhang, Aislinn had escaped to a set of crates under an awning in an alley across the way. It would have been easy to simply stay inside but the walls of the small flat left her feeling closed in and suffocated. 

He came careening around the corner like Rhalgr himself was on his heels, soaked to the bone, his clothes covered in the muddy filth of the street, a bruise or two already blooming on his face. 

They both froze, she with a hand inside a broken mammet’s chest, he with a harried incredulity that she was there at all. His eyes were almost too sharp. Ice chips settled in a dirt-streaked frame. She remembered thinking eyes like that could freeze a person solid.

Aislinn heard the angry shouting and the wet slap of running footsteps drawing closer. The state of his appearance made sense now. Flustered, she wordlessly jerked her chin over her shoulder, to the small nook in the pile of crates on which she sat. He caught her meaning and hurdled behind them with seconds to spare.

When the three highlander boys rounded the corner they slowed to a stop, chests heaving with anger, momentarily flummoxed by the sight of Aislinn, sedately going about her repairs in an otherwise empty alleyway. 

“Oi! Seen anyone come through here?” One demanded. “Dark hair, milk-lander bastard?”

Aislinn looked up and blinked, as though just noticing they were there at all.

“Not really, no.”

When they scowled and stepped closer, she motioned to the run down tavern entrance, the building that ran the length of the alley side. 

“Alley’s a dead end, anyroads. He mighta ran through the Ale Pail here and out the back end. That goes on up to Pearl Lane.”

If they were the observant sort they might have noticed how she tightly held her breath as she stared back at them from under the cover of the roughshod awning. How she held the set of pliers in her hand just a fraction too tightly. Luckily, they weren’t the questioning kind. After a glance down the alley to affirm what she had said was correct, they were off like a pack of baying hounds disappearing up the steps of the tavern.

The quiet of the muffled rain reigned once more and Aislinn returned to her work. After a few minutes the dark haired boy that was the subject of so much ire pulled himself up from behind the crates. 

“Thanks for that.” He said as he sat down next to her and tried in vain to wipe the mud and grime from his clothes. 

Aislinn gave a half-shrug and kept her eyes trained on the mammet in her lap as she re-threaded a loose bit of wire. 

“What’d you do?” She asked.

“I was minding my own business -“

“No you weren’t.” She cut him off.

He stared at her until she noticed the silence and glanced up. “Well, you weren’t. If you were, you wouldn’t have been coming down here for the past moon or so doing whatever you’re doing.”

“You’ve seen me before?”

“Yes.”

“How come I’ve never seen you?”

“How is that my question to answer? Ask yourself.”

He laughed as though he didn’t know how to reply or what to make of her. “You always sit here?”

“No.” She pointed with her set of pliers to the line of hovels that slumped along the far side of the street like a staggering group of late night carousers. “Over there.” 

He peered through the rain in the direction she had pointed. He racked his brain for one scrap of a memory of the girl with the flame red hair sitting at one of those stoops. Something like that should have stuck out. But he came up empty handed. It was an odd sensation, knowing someone could blend into the background like that. An unbalancing of the scales right from the start. 

“They think I shorted them. Or rather, that my employer shorted them on the goods I was delivering.” he said, leaning back on his hands as he waited out the rain. 

“Did they?” 

“How the hells should I know. I just deliver the package. I don’t check the bloody order.” he snorted. “They never had a problem with it before. More than likely they can’t remember how much they asked for.” 

She made a conciliatory noise in her throat as she worked. He glanced over and watched her patiently straighten a length of crimped copper wire. The mammet’s chest was an explosion of frayed wires and tangled circuits but he could already see where her measured touch had been, leaving orderly pathways in its wake.

“That a mammet? Where’d you find one of those?” 

“Sometimes up in hightown people toss them out when they stop working.” she murmured, deep in concentration. “I fix them up and sell them back to the merchants.” 

He raised a brow, impressed at the ingenuity. “Good gil, is it?” 

She shrugged and motioned at their surroundings. 

That’d be a no, then. 

He eased himself off the crates and walked to the end of the alleyway, giving a cautious look around the corner of the building. “I should be heading out before they decide to come back this way.” he said before returning momentarily to the shelter of the awning. He tapped the mammet’s head as though he thought it would get her attention. As if she hadn’t been paying attention this entire time. She lifted her head, a cross look on her face. He grinned, amused by the novelty of being on the receiving end of such a response. 

“You know this area pretty well, I take it. Enough to spot someone that doesn’t belong. If you ever want to make a little more than repairing mammets pays, come up to the warehouse district and ask for U’rahna. Tell her Sterling sent you. She could use someone like you.” 

Her only reply was for her look of annoyance to morph into one of wary distance. 

“Nothing funny!” he made the sign of an oath across his chest. “No Gilded Skirt or nothing like that. Package running. That’s it. A girl that can be invisible could probably run packages all over this city.” 

She eyed him a moment longer. “Thanks for the tip.” was all she said. 

“Thanks for the save.” he nodded before turning around and making his way back to the alley entrance. “I’ll be sure to keep my eye out for you next time.”

Sterling and Aislinn continue:

Nonagenarian Avail The Train Job Snuffed Wax Muster

#ffxiv writing #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2021 #Aislinn North #Sterling Bekker #the story continues #or begins?

[dinogoofy]

I'm back darling~ this time I'd love sth for Cassie & her female bestie 😁 bc the xmas is near so Imma give u these prompts: 'I’m a grown adult. I don’t want to take a picture with Santa Claus', 'Hey, want to help me get my parents off my ass about not having a date?'. Have a good day!

Had a ton of fun with this one, hope you enjoy!!!

Cassie Cage x F! Reader

Meeting the parents- I mean, meeting Santa.

----

It was a cold, quiet morning in your apartment. You were enjoying a warm cup of coffee in the early hours, a cheezy hallmark move playing on your TV as you try to work yourself into the holiday spirit. It had been a long year. Your phone dings once, but you ignore it, too focused on who was going to marry Santa. When it kept going off you finally checked it with a sigh.

Cassie-lassy

Hey

Hey, can I ask a favor?

Stop watching Christmas movies and answer me

Cassie was your best friend, but you weren't sure if you liked where this was going.

How did you even know that?

Anyway, whats up?

My parents are throwing a Christmas party this week and are hounding my ass about a date.

And?

Do u think u could pretend to be my gf, just for a day? Just to get them to leave me alone.

You almost choked on your coffee when you read the text. Damn, hallmark movie coming true? Your heart fluttered a bit. Cassie was your best friend. You didn't have feelings for her! That was ridiculous. All she needed was a... friend-to-friend favor. Plus, her dad was super rich, they were totally going to have good food.

Sure, when?

Uh, today good?

The lack of planning was exactly what you should've expected from Cassie. You laughed and drug your hands across your face, she was so lucky that you had the day off.

Bleh, ok. Ur dad better have some good food.

U bet ur ass! Pick u up at 6.

You laughed, and slowly picked yourself off the couch. You hoped that you still had an ugly sweater somewhere in your closet.

The time flew by unfortunately fast. You were rushing to gather your things as Cassie at outside in her 1965 red stingray corvette, (with a mako body) you loved that car so much. You couldn't help but geek out everytime you see it, but alas, there was definitely no time for that today. You frantically locked your apartment as you ran down the steps.

"Sorry I'm late!" Cassie laughed as you got in the car, and that awful flutter feeling returned. Oh no. This is not happening.

"Its chill, I doubt Dad will care if we're late to his party anyway." Your eye twitched, smile still wide on your face. You liked to be on time no matter where you were going, and by the look she was giving you you knew that Cassie said that just to annoy you. You rolled your eyes at her as she took off, the rumble of the car's engine instantly calming you.

Damn. You had never seen a house that big. As Cassie rolled through the big gates you continued to gawk at the beautiful architecture.

"I knew your dad was rich but, seeing how rich he is... is..."

"I know right? He moves into a new house almost every 6 months almost. Each one is bigger then the last one." You felt light headed just imagining how it must feel to have so much money. By the time Cassie parked and the two of you walked to the big doors, you could hear people loud and clear inside the house. This was way different then the tiny little Christmas reunions you were used too.

"I might throw an arm around you and call you nicknames a bit to make it seem legit, are you ok with that? I'm already asking a lot by getting you to come with me in the first place, the last thing I want is for you to be uncomfortable." You laughed.

"Cassie it's fine, all that comes with the 'pretend girlfriend' package." She sighs in relief, knocking on the door.

"Just making sure."

The door opens after a few moments, Cassie's mother answering the door, delighted at the sight.

"Cassie you made it just in time! Your dad just got his Ninja Santa costume out of storage. You should- oh, who is this?" You shyly waved, face flushing more from the situation than the cold. You were glad you were already blushing when Cassie links her fingers through your own.

"Mom, this is my girlfriend." Her mom's face lights up, but you would be lying if you said her obvious military posture and build didn't intimidate you. You introduced yourself and shook her hand with your free hand, making sure to shake with a firm grip.

"Its great to meet you. I was wondering when Cassie was going to bring someone home." Cassie sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as you awkwardly laughed. Her mom, Sonya, invited the two of you in. Your jaw almost dropped at the inside of the house.

The house was incredibly decorated. Wreaths, lights, an army of elves on the shelves, everything you could think of that spoke Christmas. A giant buffet on the right side of the room and a giant tree in the center of it all.

"Holy shit Cas," you wispered, she giggled squeezing your hand.

"I know right. They overdo it every year."

The rest party was amazing. You met many of Cassie's friends and family friends from the special forces. Kids were livey and running around the place. Even though the mansion and beautiful and intimidating, everything seemed to speak family to you. Every once in a while you would catch Cassie staring at you, but she would always wave you off, face flushing. It couldn't be an actual blush though, this was all an act, right?

"Ho ho ho, Ninja Butt-kicker Santa Claus has arrived!" A voice boomed from the center of the room. Adults laughed while children screamed with delight, booking it towards the gaint tree. Cassie sighed in embarrassment.

"I was beginning to wonder when dad would show up." You tried hard not to laugh when you dragged her to the middle of the room, catching a glimpse of her dad's "holiday spirit".

Kids hopped on his lap one by one, telling him what they want for Christmas, and (probably thanks to their parents,) each one was giving the wanted present and a fake ninja-star. You had thought every child was given a present and taken a picture, so surely he was going to "retire" for the night, right?

"Ho ho ho, Santa thinks that one, special little girl has yet to take a picture." He looked straight at Cassie and winked. She immediately recoiled.

"No. No no no. I'm a grown adult, I don't want to take a picture with Santa Claus." Everyone chuckled around the two of you. And Sonya walked over to push her into the center of the room with her dad, camera firm in her hands. Cassie sent an embarrassed look your way as she was forced to sit on Santa's lap.

"And what would you like for Christmas Cassie Cage?" Cassie looked like she wanted to melt away form her spot. Only answering because she had to.

"I don't want anything Da- Santa." Her Dad let out another Jolly, fake laugh.

"Sure you do! Santa knows everything, you know!" He hands her a small box, and winks at her.

"You know what Santa wants for Christmas? Grandkids." The crowd laughed, and your face immediately flushed a dark red, Cassie almost looking the same way. She covered her face as she hopped off her Dad's lap and speedwalked back to you without even opening the box.

The rest of the party went by so fast, and before you knew it, the two of you were walking back to her car in the cold.

"This was a ton of fun cas," She laughed, you wondered if she knew that you were still holding hands.

"Yeah, I'm glad you came with me. Sorry if my parents were a little overbearing." You shrugged, letting her know that it was fine. The silence after was unbearable. You wondered for a moment if you should ask her out. The party was nice, really nice, but it was honestly just because you were 'pretending' to be her girlfriend. You think she might've thought so too. You opened your mouth to speak, but she beat you to it.

"Hey, so, what if we made this whole... 'fake girlfriend' thing, a 'real girlfriend' thing?" You blushed, giving her hand a comforting squeeze.

"I think I'd like that." Her face lit up with a smile, squeezing your hand back. She stuck her hand in her pocket, and looked surprised for a moment, stopping in her tracks to pull out the box from earlier.

"I forgot about this thing."

"Mabye you should open it?" She let go off your hand to gingerly untie the bow, taking the lid off the box and tucking it underneath it. Her face flushed.

"It's mistletoe." Your face flushed in return. So thats what he ment. Cas started to nervously mumble something, closing the lid on the box, but you held a hand over hers before she put it away.

She instantly kissed back when you leaned in to complete the tradition. The gentle moonlight kiss becoming the only Christmas miracle you needed.

You were definitely living in a hallmark movie.

#cassie cage #mk imagine #mkx mortal kombat x #mk11 ultimate #mk x reader #mortal kombat

[scribbledquillz]

I was tagged by @m-m-m-myysurana for this AO3 / fanfic author meme - thank you so much for thinking of me, my dear!

How many works do you have on AO3?

I'm currently sitting at twelve, though two of them are long fics that I've unfortunately had to abandon. I also have a one-shot that I initially thought would only be a drabble I'll most likely be posting there once it's complete, but we shall see.

What’s your total AO3 words count?

Oh man. I've never actually looked at this number until now. My total word count is 142,894. Holy cow.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Yikes. So I've only recently gotten back into writing fanfic regularly again, which means my new main work (Your Fire Burns in my Veins iffin you'd like to check it out. ;3) which I'd say is the best show of my current writing skill is not among the fics I've gotten the most kudos on. What I'm getting at is if you click on these, know I'm really glad that you're interested in them, but also wincing, lol.

1. Under The Stars - An old fluff piece from the very beginning of my infatuation with Revka and Zevran as a ship. Written as a "drabble" prompt that got out of hand fast.

2. To Conspire With an Antivan - Alas, one of the two long fics I needed to abandon, hence why I won't link to it. It had promise, but my writing and pov on so many things have grown past what I was doing in this fic, and I'd rather let it lie than try to go back in to fix it or start over.

3. Acquiescence - Ohhhhh thar be F!Hawke/Fenris angst here. I wrote this for a kink meme fill (are those still a thing? am I just showing my age here?) forever ago.

4. In Plain Sight - I've written a lot of smut in my day, but I'm only now realizing how little of it I've actually posted. Aside from needing to fix that (I'm shameless) this is one of the few that was shared - another Revka / Zevran piece pre reworking both of Revka's origin and timeline. Still plenty spicy - Zev gets some special attention behind a tapestry. *wink wink*

5. No Way Out - Ok. Look. I love zombies. And what do I love more than zombies? Writing F!Hawke and the Kirkwall crew in an apocalypse. I regret nothing.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Absolutely! I want the readers who take the time to comment to know how much their words mean to me and how big a motivator they are for me to keep writing when I doubt myself or the stories I'm telling.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Well, given that my fic where my mage Hawke is captured after the Chantry explosion and made tranquil is one of the two long fics I needed to abandon, I'd say Acquiescence would have the most angst. Though I wanted to go out of my way to show there was no bitterness or anything of the like involved at the end - more just sad acceptance. That being said the rest of my fics do (and will) continue to end with a more hopeful conclusion.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Since I haven't finished YFBimV (and won't for some time) I'd have to say it would have to be my one-shot Reassurances. It was a gift fic with an OT3 of Hawke, Fenris and Isabela, and was just such a nice, soft moment for the trio to reaffirm they're all exactly where they want to be.

Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve ever written?

I haven't as of yet, and most likely won't. It would have to be a very specific type of crossover.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Oh thank God no. I've got a thicker skin than I used to when it comes to my writing, but I'd definitely still cry like a baby.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Heh heh heh. Yeeeep. And I intend to write more. >:3 I've done mostly f/m smut, but also f/f as well.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, and ngl I think I'd be more flattered than angry if I did - not flattered enough not to report it, but still flattered.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not a fic, though the timeline of YFBimV was developed (and continues to be developed) with the help of my friend @pathosian, who was so kind as to let me borrow her Kerrigan Hawke to play Barbies with.

What’s your all-time favourite ship?

Zevka Zevka Zevka Zevka Zevka Zevka Zevka Zevka

But I also deeply appreciate any Zevwarden ship out there because my man deserves happiness. I also really love Fenris/Hawke (especially mage Hawke), and am getting more and more invested in Varric/Adaar as I think up my new Inquisitor. Out of DA fandom I am also an unrepentant Zuko/Katara shipper. But lbr - I love ships in general.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Ahhh I mentioned them above. Some things just aren't meant to be, sadly.

What are your writing strengths?

I really feel like I do a good job at nailing down character voices. The way they speak, their body language, the expressions they tend to make, and if writing from their POV what their internal monologue tends to be in any given situation.

I also feel really confident in my ability to write highly emotional moments; describing the physical response an emotion brings out in a character, how they react internally vs how they express their reaction outward, that kind of thing. It's my favorite part of writing fic.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Ugh. Action. Not just in fight scenes (though those are a hell of a struggle) but in calmer moments too. I always second guess myself if something is too detailed or not enough when it comes to writing out how something happens.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

It doesn't bother me personally. I do use it a little myself, but generally only as flavoring, or (favorite trope ahead) when a character isn't ready to give words to how they feel about something/someone and so say it in their native tongue instead. *cough* Zevran *cough* I use it pretty sparingly, though.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

I'm having a sudden, violent flashback to 12 year old me giggling to myself as I write bad Harry Potter fanfic under my blankets at 1 am on a school night.

What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

Oh gosh. I had the most fun writing No Way Out (because zombies) but is it tacky to say Your Fire Burns in my Veins? I've been shipping Revka with Zevran for aaaaaages now, and it's really satisfying to finally be putting the whole of their story to word rather than just bouncing around disjointedly in my head.

Thank you so much again for the tag, @m-m-m-myysurana, this was a lot of fun to do!

I'll go ahead and tag: @heniareth, @lorioganneb and @calebara as well as anyone else who wants to have a go at this! Please tag me, I'd love to read your answers. :3

#about lilou #lilou writes #the total word count blew my mind #I've done. a lot of fic writing. lol

[theoriginalladya]

A sort of writing prompt - Sims 3 style

Okay, a bit of set up here.

A couple of months ago, I decided to go back to playing Mass Effect on my PC once I found the game controller mod.  I much prefer it on my PS3 because of that.  Still the mod made it easier, and I was able to add a few more mods to lengthen the games, etc.  Suffice to say, I can now play an extended version of my Shepards’ games on my PC at my desk.  

That said, it also means I have access to my other games I had on Origin.  Including Sims 3.  Silly me decided to try and create Caleb and Kaidan in Sims 3 (I did this years ago with one of my femsheps and DA characters).  I was talking to @swaps55 around the time that I started the game up and in the first few minutes, Caleb and Kaidan had no less than FIVE PILLOW FIGHTS.  I know Kaidan was the instigator at least one time - saw it with my own eyes.  Of course, Swaps, being Swaps, encouraged the ‘prompt’.

Fast forward a few weeks.  I woke up this morning and in that hazy inbetween state of unconsciousness/consciousness, I suddenly SAW the prompt.  I’ve spent most of the morning writing this, so here you go, Swaps!  A huge thank you for dragging me into mshenko and encouraging me to write!  Just for you - Caleb and Kaidan having a pillow fight ala Sims 3!

On AO3 here

~~~

Making a bed to military precision is easy enough, if time consuming – consuming only because he can find far better and more entertaining ways to spend those minutes with Kaidan – but it’s a necessity, and better to get it done now than to leave it until right before bed when they are   distracted. He’s spent his career – his life – able to focus on the job at hand, whatever the mission requires, and he isn’t about to stop that now.  Especially when the greatest distraction of his life stands on the other side of the bed, waiting.

The fitted sheet is easy enough to manage. He tucks the two corners on his side in quick, precise movements, then places his knee on top of the sheet and mattress to keep his balance while leaning halfway across.  He’s tall and his arms long enough to reach the far corner, but a strong hand is waiting, ready to assist.  

Fingers brush and tangle, a soft chuckle fills the air. “You still don’t know how to ask for help, do you?”

Caleb huffs softly.  “This job is better done by one,” he argues, tucking the corner securely around the mattress.  “Faster that way.”

(under cut for length)

Kaidan runs his fingers along the edge of the fabric and finds the last corner, snagging it and tugging to stretch it out.  “Not always,” he replies as he slides it easily around the mattress.

Caleb rises, sends a quick smirk in the major’s direction, then grabs the duvet off the nearby chair.  It’s folded into quarters and he places it precisely in the center of the bed – a trick he’s come up with over the years and one that works well.  Within seconds, it covers the bed as it should, corner to corner.  “You were saying?”  He glances over to where Kaidan stands … only he isn’t there anymore.  With a frown marring his face, he turns …

His peripheral vision saves him, eyes slamming shut and head turning just enough out of the way before contact is made.  A startled murfle escapes his lips but it is stifled by the thick feathered pillow.  Reaction has him reaching for it automatically.  It falls into his hands without difficulty.  “Jesus, Kaidan!” he breathes, shaking his head once to remove any lingering sting from the contact.  “What the – ?”

He realizes his mistake instantly.  His arm rises this time, blocking a blow.  On the other side of a second pillow, a smug smirk greets him.  “You need to relax, Shepard,” Kaidan insists.  “Learn to live a little.”  

His voice is low, rumbling, and Caleb melts a little as it washes over him.  It takes all of his concentration and willpower to remain on task.  “I know how to live,” he argues.  “Too busy trying not to die lately.”

Their gazes meet and it’s impossible not to read the silent challenge inside Kaidan’s dark, whiskey-colored eyes.  A soft frown mars Caleb’s brow.  “What’s gotten into you, Alenko?”

The smirk remains on his lips, a fire of delight building; Caleb has only ever seen him like this once.  They aren’t on Utukku fighting their way free of the rachni at the moment, however.  Why the hell am I suddenly your target?

“You need to relax,” Kaidan replies.  “Have a little fun.”

“And shoving a pillow in my face will do that.” It’s a matter of fact statement, not a question.

The smirk widens and Kaidan’s chuckle fills the room.  “You make it sound more like battlefield skirmish.”

Dropping his hands but securing the corner of the pillow between his fingers, Caleb’s hands rest at his hips as he stands there staring at him.  “A pillow fight?  Really?”

Kaidan drops his pillow onto the bed as he walks over, a grin on his face.  Leaning in, he brushes a quick kiss across Caleb’s lips.  “So you have heard of them.  I was beginning to wonder.”

“Heard of, yes.  Doesn’t mean I’ve ever been in one.”  A soft sigh filled with a hint of regret slips past Caleb’s lips as he runs a hand through his tousled hair.  “I was an only child, in the Reds by the time I was fourteen.  Not the best environment for such things.”

Kaidan’s hand slides up to the back of his head, gently tugging.  Their foreheads meet, touch, rest for a half a moment before he pulls back.  “All the more reason for one now,” he murmurs.  “C’mon, Shepard, haven’t you ever wanted to have an honest to goodness pillow fight?”

Tilting his head, Caleb says, “As I recall, you were an only child too.”

Kaidan grins.  “I have my ways …”

“You are impossible.”  It comes out as a grumble, but there is a hint of agreement to it.  Enough that even when Caleb finally decides to react, he’s too late.  Kaidan’s pillow is back and in his face before he even has his raised.  “Mffff!”

The ‘fight’ feels more like a war in some ways once Caleb can see again.  Adrenaline rushes through him, putting his senses on full alert.  A sheen of bluish haze surrounds Kaidan a moment later – not for offensive purposes but defensive, but Caleb doesn’t mind.  Hell, he doesn’t even think about it.  All he sees is his target.  The bed presents a fairly large obstacle, however, and once they both have banged their shins against the frame at least three times each, the battle moves out into the hallway for safety.  

Caleb loses track of how long it lasts, but never takes eyes off Kaidan who manages to give as well as he receives, too.  And though it’s competitive – at their level of training, it’s impossible to be any other way when life and death hang in the balance every single day – there is laughter.  Joy.  Amusement. Fun.

It comes to an end when Caleb, after having Kaidan’s pillow stuffed into his face yet again, grabs him by the front of his shirt, drops his own ‘weapon’ and pushes him hard up against the wall. The kiss that follows is heated, hungry and very, very thorough.  The sounds that escape Kaidan’s throat as a result leave Caleb wondering if this isn’t another ploy just to stir something up between them; but it doesn’t really matter. The answer is more than obvious as they stand there in each other’s arms.  

Pulling his head back, Caleb braces his hands on the wall to either side of Kaidan’s head and rests their foreheads while struggling to catch his breath.  This time, the smug smirk curves on his lips.  “H-how was that, mo shearc?”

Kaidan uses his fingers to comb some of Caleb’s hair out of his eyes as a soft smile curls around his lips.  “Not too bad for a beginner.”  

The hand eventually slides behind his head, pulling him close for a much tamer kiss this time.  When Caleb retreats, however, he sees the spark back, the flames trying to kick back to life.  Caleb groans softly, but something in the look sparks his own competitive streak.  “Again?”

“I have my reputation to uphold.”

Caleb snorts softly.  “I can think of far better ways to bolster your reputation.”

The flames ignite.  “Well, why didn’t you say that in the first place?”  His hand slides down Caleb’s arm so their fingers tangle together loosely.  

Caleb grins as he grabs his pillow off the floor and retreats a step to allow Kaidan the opportunity to move.  As they walk in the direction of the bedroom, he replies, “I thought I did.  It’s all about subtlety.  Why do you think I made the bed in the first place?”

#ladya writes #Caleb Shepard #mshenko #Sims 3 #pillow fight #I never laughed so hard as I did the first five minutes of that game!

[canalstreetbaker]

Prompt #13: Groceries

The Glittering City of Ul’dah

Some time after the Fall of Ala Mhigo, but before the Seventh Umbral Calamity

“But I went last week!  It’s not my turn to go to market!”

Ortulf was in a rare mood.  The boy had grown increasingly agitated about his chores about the bakery and the disposition thereof.  While headstrong youths were part and parcel of the monastery experience in Del’s childhood, this was not the monastery where the youths would be bid to stand in a ready stance for six to eight hours until the aggressive energy had been channeled to more productive purposes.  

How to deal with this turn of events in the Ul’dahn manner still eluded Del, as he had worked out his own aggressions making poor loaves of bread that he would later core and turn into soup bowls.  He wished to alleviate Ortulf’s anxieties using the same methods, but it wasn’t yet the season for soup.  Other considerations would have to be made.

“And you’ll go again this week,” Del replied with a hint of rising emotion in his own voice.  “One day you, too, will have this bakery and it is the whims of the market that dictate if we are fed or if we starve.”

“I don’t want to!  I have other things I need to do. Today!”  

“That being attending the market and ensuring we stay open tomorrow!”  

This was not the consideration that Del anticipated, but the boy simply would not obey.  Ortulf and his headstrong nature had finally begun to crack Del’s legendary patience.  

“Why can’t you do i-”

“Ortulf!  The matter is settled.  You will go to market.  Now.”

The look on Ortulf’s face - the sheer anger and stubbornness of a boy denied, a boy who thought life was so unfair - it was as alien to Del as a Monetarist with a charity streak.  “Fine!”  The door slammed as Ortulf stomped out, the bell clattering in his wake.  

Del heaved a sigh.  It was fortunate that there was rarely an audience to witness such difficulty between the two, and today was no exception.  As Ortulf grew from a boy into a man they were destined to be at odds over something; better this than experimenting with somnus or trying to summon Rhalgr to smite his enemies.  

Del had experienced more than enough of that, thank you.

Just so, Del resolved to work through his frustration with a regimen of meditation and some exercises at Hamon’s burgeoning establishment where he taught the Ul’dahn version of the Hand of Destruction.  No salvation was found there, only coin.  

Before that resolution could occur, Del had an establishment to run.

Several bells had passed without Ortulf’s return, though Del had pushed the thought to the back of his mind.  The usual afternoon rush was larger than normal this time around, the eating area now packed with Ul’dahn life who chatted amongst themselves about the day’s events.

Orill of the Five Blows was mentioned more often than Del would like, though he wasn’t sure why until he heard the bell over the door ring once more and a hush fell over the assemblage.  

“Da, I’m back,” Ortulf said, and Del felt a wave of relief.  

“It is high time you returned,” the baker said as he turned from the ever-present oven.  “As you can see we have a busy afternoon ahead of--”

Oh, bother.

Ortulf was dressed in a smart practice smock.  He wore sandals instead of his feet bare.  He had a shield.  A sword!  

Oh no no no.

Ortulf wore a conical metal skullcap much like a Gladiator would wear.

“I said I had other things to do today,” Ortulf said - with no small amount of smugness in his voice.

Del took a moment to find his center. He could not get angry.  He would not get angry.  He would be the Aspect of Salvation.  

“I just wanted the market price of walnuts,” he finally said.  “Now what do you think you are doing?!”  It was clear that the aging baker could indeed get angry, and did so with aplomb.

As voices rose in the heat of emotion, Del was reminded of the ageless tenet but could not stop the torrent of words nor anger he felt at Ortulf’s impertenece.

The Aspect of Destruction and the Aspect of Salvation are the same aspect.  This, too, is important.

#ffxivwrite2020 #FFXIVWrite #Edelstein Orill #Orill of the Five Blows #BOY WHAT ARE YOU DOING #oops late #thanks AT&T

[asfaltics]

someni so’s. the question of direction.

  therefore they which fix and propound to themselves some (ni,       1670 intimate once before, our Garden will probably not hold so many so many Trees       1699   of those Waters proceeds from Sulphur with some Ni       1708 cause so many So many       1792   we then saw that it not made so many, so many scores       1810 after so many sos and although I may have less reason to citations, however others       1812   Here in consequence of some ni ses of his tragical end       1832 someni, aȝe the Tiwesday Next       1833   and some ni spare       1872 This uniformity in so many sos could hardly be accidental. The question of direction       1881   at sætte alene som -eni eller dels som -eni, dels som -oni       1891 What do you want with so many sos       1893  

sources

someni so many so many so many sos

1670 ex Francis Bacon, Sylva Sylvarum, Or, A Natural History in Ten Centuries : Whereunto is Newly Added the History Natural and Experimental of Life and Death, Or of the Prolongation of Life : Whereunto is Added Articles of Enquiry, Touching Metals and Minerals, and the New Atlantis (London, 1670) in discussion of Hope, “the most beneficial of all the Affections,” in The History of Life and Death : 34 1699 ex N.F.D. (Nicolas Fatio de Duillier (1664-1753)), his Fruit-Walls Improved by Inclining Them to the Horizon : Or a way to build walls for fruit-trees; Whereby they may receive more Sun Shine, and Heat, than ordinary. By a Member of the Royal Society. (London, 1699) : 108 OCR misread, cross column (to marginal notes), Austria National Library copy alas no plates, but see wikipedia entry on Fatio and, on fruit-walls (and their relationship to green houses), Kris De Decker, “Fruit Walls: Urban Farming in the 1600s,” in Low-Tech Magazine (December 2015) : here 1708 ex The British Apollo, or, Curious amusements for the ingenious. To which are added the most Material Occurences Foreign and Domestick. Perform’d by a Society of Gentlemen. No. 109 (from Wednesday February 23rd to Friday February 25th, 1708) : 442 (regarding the Bath Waters, their heat and change of colour when “dipt” in, caused by “some Nitre and Bitumen, from which last we suppose Silver to receive that Golden Colour.” 1792 OCR misread (intervening words illegible evidently) ex The Aeneid of Virgil. Translated into English verse, by Christopher Pitt (Book XI), in A Complete Edition of the Poets of Great Britain. Volume the Twelfth. (London, 1792) : 618 1810 OCR cross-column misread, “Paper against Gold: Being an examination of the Report of the Bullion Committee : In a series of letters to the tradesmen and farmers in and near Salisbury.” Letter 20. in Cobbett’s Weekly Political 18:36 (London, December 12, 1810) : 1154 1812 ex “Debate in the Commons on the Miscarriages of the British Fleet. A. D. 1745”, in The Parliamentary History of England from the Earliest Period to the Year 1803. Vol. 13. A.D. 1743-1747. (London, 1812) : 1204 OCR misread soli-citations, + cross column 1832 ex description of Captain Cook’s end, witnessed by John Ledyard, “distinguished traveller,” in panegyrical biography of Ledyward (1751-1789), in William Allen, An American Biographical and Historical Dictionary, containing an account of the lives, characters, and writings of the most eminent persons in North America from its first settlement, and a summary of the history of the several colonies and of the United States. (Second edition; Boston, 1832) : 520 ocr confusion, cross column 1833 ex definition of AȝE, prep. Against, in Jonathan Boucher, Glossary of Archaic and Provincial Words (edited by Joseph Hunter, with large additions, principally from early Ms. authorities, by Joseph Stevenson), forming a supplement to the dictionaries of the English Language, particularly those of Dr. Johnson and Dr. Webster... (London, 1833) : here (unpaginated) 1872 ex 5. “Das Landmädchen. Country Lassie.” in Schottische Volkslieder, Scotch Songs, für Sopran, Alt, Tenor u. Bass, Herausgegen von Carl u. Alfons Kissner. Heft 1., Partitur und Stimmen Pr.2 (Leipzig u. Winterthur, 1872) : 7 1881 ex The Electrician 6 (February 26, 1881) : 178 1891 Sophus Bugge (1833-1907 *). Norges Indskrifter med de ældre Rune. Udgivne for Det Norske Historiske Kildeskriftfond (Christiania, 1891) : 18 1893 OCR misread (mixing two sketches), ex Judge’s Library : A Monthly Magazine of Fun (nos 46-57), this from 49 “City-Folks” (April 1893) : 10

—

can’t recall what prompted this. to be read with license, esp. those so-me-ni’s  

#ȝ #bitumen #couplets #onsense #someni #so many so's #so many so many #Francis Bacon #N. F. D.

[crackinglamb]

Fluff-uary Prompt 1 - Flirting

(DA - Hawke/Varric)

Varric was carrying two wooden mugs as he crossed the Hanged Man's open floor to the table where Hawke sat with the others.  A pack of cards peeked out from his belt since he didn't trust anyone at the table not to mark them in his absence.  Of course, it occurred to her, he might just be marking them himself while waiting for his drink at the bar, but she felt like his cheating held more integrity than something so obvious. Watching him come back to their usual spot she noticed there was a well practiced agility in how he avoided the raucous drunks at the next table and she grinned at him.  He placed one of the mugs in front of her and returned her grin with a smirk.

“See something you like?” he asked.

“Is it the ale – doubtful – the cards, or the chest hair?” Isabela piped up from across the table, her eyes full of mirth.  Hawke felt her cheeks burn, because it wasn't actually any of those things.  It was just...him.  Just...all of him.  She took a swig of the ale and hid her grimace behind the mug.  Isabela went on, “Honestly, Varric, have you no shame?”

“And you do, Rivaini?” he retorted, hopping into the chair left for him at the 'head' of the table, nodding towards her scantily clad figure.

“Touche, my friend.”

“What are we up for tonight?” he asked, pulling the cards from his belt and shuffling them.  His eyes twinkled in the torch light and Hawke deliberately turned her head away from him.  No one needed to catch her pining, most of all him.

“Shall we play something we can strip to?” Isabela asked.

“Not in the bar,” Varric replied, raising an eyebrow at her.  It was a common routine between them.  But it never led anywhere.  Which was fine, really, she'd hate to be jealous of her friend.  Oh, Hawke, you're such a disaster.

“Ooh, shall we take it upstairs then?”

“Enough,” Fenris broke in gruffly, his apparent patience for this game already waning.  “Just deal the cards, Varric.”

He shuffled some more and offered the cut to Hawke, who took it, pushing the deck back to him when she was done.  His hand brushed hers as he took them back and she felt her face flame up again, thankful that the torches kept her in some shadow.  Ugh, she thought, it's pathetic how much I'm a mess around him lately.

Oh, Hawke, you know why.

The cards dealt, the hands and bets began.  Hawke stayed quiet through the first few rounds, too distracted by her rambling thoughts.  She folded her hand and settled back to watch instead, burying her face in her mug and pretending the ale didn't taste like four day old sour cabbage.

“Daydreaming, Hawke?” Varric asked some time later.  

She noticed only then that the table had cleared out and it was just them.  Now that they were alone, he tugged on a lock of her hair, pulling it loose from the simple topknot she wore it in.  A curtain of black covered the side of her face as the rest of it fell.  She was self conscious of her looks here in Kirkwall.  She was pale skinned like her father, with a dusting of freckles, with pale eyes that seemed otherworldly compared to the more honeyed tones surrounding her.  She felt freakish sometimes.

“And why would I tell you?” she scoffed, getting back to the subject at hand. “You'd only write it into one of your books.”

“Oh, not everything makes its way onto the page.”  He was smirking at her still and now that his full attention was on her, she felt like she couldn't breathe.  It was becoming a problem, she noted.  The more time she spent with him, the more she wanted to...  “Oho, there's a look.”

“Shush.”

“You should've played more, Hawke.  I would have helped you fleece Isabela gladly if that's what you were worried about.”

“You do enough 'fleecing' on your own, thank you very much.”

He sighed, but it was in good humor.  “Oh, Hawke, you too?  My poor chest hair and I are starting to feel objectified.”

She nearly inhaled the final gulp of her ale up her nose.  “Varric...”

He chuckled.

“'Objectified',” she snorted.  “Says the man who tugs my hair like a schoolboy.”

“What can I say? It's lovely when it's down.”

She wasn't going to touch that with someone else's polearm.  Still, retaliation presented itself, propped up by too many ales.  She even managed to come up with a good simper.  “You know, it is a pity you're so spoken for.  But I know your heart only belongs to Bianca.”

“It's true,” he sighed, absurdly melodramatic as he played along and looked over to his crossbow leaning against the wall with yearning.  “If only there were worlds enough and time...”

“Oh stop, you fool.”  She giggled at him and swatted his arm before she knew what she was doing.  Maker's breath, Hawke, what's gotten into you? “Don't make empty promises.”

“Are you feeling...empty, Hawke?”

“And if I was?”

He stood abruptly, gathering up their discarded mugs.  “I guess I'd have to get you another drink.”

She watched him weave a seemingly drunken path back to the bar and wondered if he meant to get them both so blackout drunk that they passed out or just enough that their respective demons didn't haunt them while they did something deliciously stupid.  He came back with fresh mugs and set one in front of her.  She wrapped her hands around it but didn't drink.  

“What's on your mind?” he asked.

You.

“Nothing much.  I should go, you know.  Unless you're going to tuck me in somewhere.”

“Hmm.  Is that an excuse to see me out of my duster?”

“I don't know. Would it work?”

“If you were...persuasive,” he dropped his voice on the last word, letting it hang between them, a fine rope to hang herself with.

“I could never come between a dwarf and his crossbow,” she declared, her tone playfully aghast at the suggestion.  The gleam in his eye deepened as he smiled, the honey color darkened by the torchlight to something more like fine whiskey.

“You sure you don't want to try?”

“Alas, a homewrecker I am not.  Not tonight, anyway.”  She took a sip from her mug and discovered he'd brought her plain water.  She gulped it down, feeling it slosh in her stomach, but it was cold enough to wash away the fog of the ale.  “Another time, perhaps.”

“Perhaps.  Does that mean you aren't staying?  A shame, truly.”

She stood up, preparing to leave the Hanged Man, and looked down at him, sprawled leisurely in his seat.  Only Varric Tethras could make slouching in a human sized chair look so easy.  Especially when she knew for a fact that he hated that his legs were too long to hook on the rungs comfortably yet his feet were still inches off the floor.  There was something challenging in his gaze now, and she wondered at it.  Could it be he was finally letting down his infernal guard?  She smiled at him, decided to give him an easy out until she figured out what was changing between them.  “I wouldn't dream of putting you out of your own bed.”

“Maker forbid.  I guess we'd just have to share.”

She snorted.  As if that was going to happen outside of her fantasies. “Goodnight, Varric.”

He paused at that, searching her face for something she hoped was buttoned down tight now that her head had begun to clear.  At last he smiled, the twinkle back in his eye and his voice full of promise.  “Goodnight, Hawke.”

#FLUFF-uary 2020 #dragon age #hawke/varric #also posted to ao3

[slashtakemylife]

Just finished the last episodes and I need to rant about Adam because boi, if they had actually given the importance to Adam they said he had, Voltron would've been very different, in a better way

When S7 aired and I learned of Adam's death I felt upset and shocked but I never raged, I was just disappointed, I nosedived to every interview to see if the general media talked about it, and they did! However in the interviews I read things about Adam like, "since Shiro is gone, Adam is the next best pilot there is" (as to why it was Adam on the first unsuccesful wave), "he didn't hesitate" " he was made of the same cloth as Shiro" "His importance to Voltron is very big", I got massive warning signs of they doing what I personally call "sugarcoating" specially after reading the apology were JDS said they never intended to make Adam a recurring character, but alas, I waited to finish the season and properly make an opinion, well the warning signs were true and now I AM RANTING!!

I'll be going a little off topic but one thing I seriously hate in movies and shows are when female characters, specially love interests, are the best of the best, the most high rank, the smartest, the strongest, the handmade creation of the gods themselves, up to a point that sometimes you go, then why is the male character the leader? Isn't she more qualified? well yeah but she isn't just because, but other than saying how awesome she is, they barely show it, in important, crucial, deciding, defining moments they are not there when by their rank they should be or they are just adorning the background barely making any opninions, or despite being shown to be badass in certain scenes they are just sitting plants in others just for the hero to rescue them

Female characters are awesome and I love many of them but there are obvious parts were they are simply pushed aside despite the amount of importance they give them, Hollywood is afraid of putting female leads but also afraid of being called mysogynist so they create secondary female characters and then they "sugarcoat" them to us with valuable aspects such as a big family conection, a big link to the plot of the movie, a rank, a skill or smth to show she is a "strong woman" but only when convinient

As a female I'm used to this sugarcoating, so when on interviews I read those things about Adam, that is what pissed me off. Listen, in my true honest opinion, the VLD crew really wanted to make this rep for us, Barlee admitted it was greenlit late, it was smashed together (and it shows) but they did their best, I accepted Adam as JDS letter clearly says, Adam was just a character meant to show Shiro's sexuality, nothing less and nothing more, it's not that he is not important, he just wasn't planned for more and I'm not mad about it, I can accept that.

Suddenly declaring Adam as a symbol of loss, regret and war; a major character that has a major impactful role in Voltron..., please, that comes straight out of nowhere, since they saw how meaningful Adam was to ppl, they decided to "sugarcoat" him by giving him more value than he actually has or was meant to have, just let the man die and let me mourn him in peace

If I really give Adam the characteristics and value they said, things would've and could've been different in a so much better way and here is my how: (remember Adam is supposed to be like Shiro, one of if not the best pilot, behind Shiro, the garrison has to offer and a brave man that doesn't hesitate to jump into action, a team leader)

(Take this as a prompt as well please because I would love a fic like this)

So Shiro wants to go to Kerberos but Admiral Sanda won't let him, Sam Holt is pushing for Shiro because he is the best, but you need to replace him so, who is the second if not also the best pilot such as Shiro? You know it, Adam, he was there for every record but he is Shiro's flight parter so there is a high chance some of those records are Adam's as well, also Sam is close to Shiro so he probably would accept Adam as a replacement (or at least that is what Sanda would think)

If Adam is a self sacrificing hero like Shiro, he would want to accept just to keep Shiro safe back on Earth, Shiro could feel betrayed by Adam and the whole drama would've been so much better, but we need Shiro on Kerberos (unless you want BlackPaladdin!Adam) so imagine Adam coming over to Shiro and saying:

"Out of our time together, out of my respect and love for you, I'm doing this last thing, I'm rejecting Admiral Sanda's proposal and promote for you to be there, so go, but don't expect me to be here when you get back"

So Shiro basically has Adam's blessing but they still break up, they still parted on rocky terms but is more bittersweet and you show how mature and deep their relationship is

Back to canon, I believe they introduced Adam in the breakup because we are supposed to like him but not get invested in him so when he does die we won't feel so bad, VLD promoted Adam as Shiro's significant other, then they sugarcoated him by saying they were close to marriage but when we finally discover Adam's fate they go like, "we'll remember he is his ex, not current, so while feelings are still there Shiro already knew it was kind of over, so don't feel sad for Adam or Shiro, just remember Shiro is gay"

Having Adam just, "how important am I to you?" let's just say I'm not surprised ppl disliked Adam because he gave Shiro that ultimatum, his character felt needy and greedy but then again, we are not supposed to get too invested in him. (Boi, that went exactly the wrong direction, the fandom imprinted on Adam like newly born ducks)

I'll be going a little off topic but I'm coming back to Adam after explaining this thing: the cadets, why you use cadets and not fully trained officers? In all shows the main characters share their audiences' age but they always explain why, the adults are evil, fate just happened to put them there, a mystical something chose them (in the paladins cases) but here? They just say they are the best of the best, and that is good but still, just cadets, you can't do test with them, they could die, ppl have died while testing things, some of the crew of the guys that went to the moon died in a test in rl, right?

I thought, ok I'll go with it, but the Why You Don't Do That pretty much slaps them in the face, when the Galra attack, why they don't want to deploy them?

They are just cadets!

THEN WHY TF TRAIN THEM IN THE FIRST PLACE!!!!????

Sam came back knowing a Galra attack is inminent, the garrison is about to make the most advanced ships and weapons and they are giving them to cadets?! WHY?!?!

(Fix it and prompt time!)

Before Sam arrives they couldn't even make the pod move, so they could've explain the cadets as this

"It will takes us Years to create a simple prototype, if we were to train older cadets, they woulb be close to or retiring so better young ones so when we finally fly something they would not only have years of training but would be at their prime"

When Sam arrives

"I know you all expected to use this years from now but the Galra won't wait and neither will we, you are already trained for this so may as well keep it up"

- (the continuation of this prompt is after we talk Adam some more)

Back to the interviews, in one they said Adam's death was inminent given the natural flow of the show, if the Galra attack then we will deploy the best we have but the best we have is Adam so tough luck.

Me after watching the show: I'm calling BS on this! They HAD a defense line, they HAD the knowledge, they just sent them because they were stupid enough to put cadets in the only advanced weapon they had and to show how shitty Sanda was, and our poor gay man was the price, also brave Adam? I don't doubt it but then again, he did what soldiers do, he followed orders, so they didn't show me how brave he was, they showed me him doing his job, he knows what those commands mean, he knows what is his job description so while yeah he is obviously brave, so is everyone, he doesn't stand out, if he had been already buckled in Before the command then yes he is great but no, he just followed orders

You want to show his bravery and leader skills? Hold my juice, (I don't drink beer, sorry) we are about to get to the next part of the prompt

- (The next part :D)

Sam:

"We will keep you cadets but since the making of the ships is about to be done with the info I brought, we need an experienced pilot to be your leader specially in battle since you are new to that"

-Quiz time!-

Who is the best pilot the garrison has to offer known and acknowledged by both Sanda and Sam?

ADAM!!!

MFE pilot and leader!Adam

When the Garla attack, Adam is no longer in his squad, he stayed in base when Sanda deploys his unit and sees them get decimated, before they all die he does this

Adam:

"Cadets, I won't force you into doing anything, but there are good man and women out there getting killed by the very threat we've been training to defeat, so I'm taking my MFE and blast them to the next moon, anyone who wants to come along is welcome"

Sanda: "don't you daaare, court martial BS!"

Adam, while in his MFE:

"Open the particle barrier or I'll see a way to blast throught it!"

Sam does open it and they cover fire enough to save the few remaining earth pilots

(End prompt)

You see?!?! This is how you show me Adam being brave and a team leader, the original paladins are 4 young ones and a space dad, they could've had the earth equivalent with the 4 cadets and their own Shiro with Adam as their leader, can I also mention how he is now VERY much alive? So yeah, Adam is dead because you chose so! Shiro is alive because you chose so too! He was supposed to die to let Keith be the leader but you found his value and made great things with him and we all love him!

WHY COULD'NT YOU DO THIS WITH ADAAAAAAM!!!!!!

And you can't tell me it wouldn't be absolute poetry to have Space Dad as Captain of the Atlas, Space Son as the Voltron leader and Earth Dad as he leader of the Earth forces, being the support to keep safe his two idiots he loves and calls family

Adam should've left Griffin in charge for a moment, go to Shiro and blast Sendak with his MFE while screaming, this is for killing the love of my life! (Ok I got over excited in that last bit but you know it would've been epic)

If you reached this far you probably think I'm just a rabbid Adashi shipper ranting about my ship, and yeah I sorta am, as I said, I'm really just venting but still my true discomfort is the whole sugarcoating thing

I accepted Adam as JDS said, as what the show is showing me he is, a background character that, while he definitely is a major someone to Shiro, it is just for him, he doesn't have so much major importance in Voltron as a whole but he was designed that way, he is still part of Shiro's backstory but he is dead now and we shall move on

Don't try to make him more than he is outside of the show canon, this whole issue is because EVERYTHING is out of canon, the show reflects NOTHING of everything you said of both Shiro's sexuality and Adam as a character, if S8 brings Adam back whether is a flashback or alive, I'll come back to this because I will judge if they will own up to what they said he is or once again leave vague things that reflect nothing and try to cover it up outside of canon, I'm mad but mostly disappointed

I'll be fine in a few days and I will see S8 with the same excitement as I have all the rest of the seasons

#vld adam #vld shiro #voltron adam #adam w #adashi #shadam