#{ ask meme: ic replies }

[delusionaid]

@dhabibi sent: “let me recharge!” (kaveh to alhaitham)

Alhaitham's been lying on the couch, reading an old dissertation hypothesizing on the function of language and symbols as a source of magic in the mechanics of ancient civilizations - more fiction than reality but still an engaging read - when he hears the sound of the front door opening and closing. It's followed by a series of noises that are as familiar to him as the very room he's in - the way Kaveh puts his keys away, takes off his shoes, his footsteps on the floor as he moves from the entrance to his room. He can still keep his eyes on the sentences in front of him but their meaning, he notices, is not revealing itself to him as quickly anymore, half-distracted as he is.

It's quiet for a few moments, the distance between them too great now, but Alhaitham assumes the silence is created by Kaveh slipping into more comfortable clothes. More footsteps and then he's in the living room where Alhaitham throws him a look from behind his book. He looks surprisingly invigorated but he must be tired after a long day, another project nearing its pivotal phase, the tell-tale signs of it all over their house and Kaveh's inability to talk about much else throughout the day.

Alhaitham doesn't protest when he heads straight for the couch and climbs on it, just lifts his book a little higher so Kaveh doesn't hit himself in the face with it as he sorts his limbs to lie half at his side and half on top of him, in a way that may have been uncomfortable if Alhaitham hadn't anticipated it and thus shifted in his own position in time. It might still get uncomfortable after a while, too heavy, too hot, but for the time being Alhaitham finds he's quite content with it. It's a somewhat new habit they've fallen into, this kind of physical closeness that only occurred on the nights they shared a bed before moving from his bedroom to the couch.

He waits for Kaveh to settle, then moves his book back into a position that allows him to read without the architect's head blocking the lower part of the pages. "Done for the day?" he asks, knowing that Kaveh has a habit of taking naps and then going back to work in the middle of the night and half expecting it to be one of those days.

[penofdamocles]

WAIT I DID THOSE WRONG- change them all to Would you ever..... (´；ω；`)

.. You know what I didn't think about that whatsoever and answered them without pause and honestly those were probably more fun to answer anyways.

[coollyinterferes]

"Back by unpopular demand:"

"Us!"

[angie-long-legs]

NAHHHH 😭

"Ugh, ya already know yer my type. Stop fuckin' flauntin' it."

"Anyone got 'bad taste in men' in their bingos?"

[heroicvaliant]

@bluestringpuppeteer sent;

“I’m trying my best and it’s not good enough. it’s never good enough.”

"Woah, um. If it is never enough, then uhh… you must be setting the bar way too high, man."

"— or you have not been accepting help! Have you been getting help? Y'know what they say; dream work makes the team work!"

…

Charles.

[muppeteyes1001]

“Oh my god you’re a kitty!!” 

Some Non-Human Sentence Starters

Kitt blinks and perks up in mid-sip of her tea. Turning towards the source of the unfamiliar voice, the cat woman gives the teen a curious .. and mildly amused .. look.

"Hmph .. Well you're partially right! .. But my name's Kitt, actually" she replies before finally taking a sip from her tea cup. With another brief glance, she notices the tail behind the young stranger, but doesn't comment on it.

"An' who might you just be, mate? .. Friend o' foe?" the felinoid adds in playful jest with her usual side smirk.

[the-delightful-temptation]

Dad-- Your opinion on Ozzie dating a Cherub

Send me ‘Dad’ and a question

"Another failure I suppose. I make heaven so perfect and yet I still get Cherubs falling into my creation's temptations.. Such a shame. Maybe the Cherub can repent and give up on Asmodae before it’s too late. But I fear the corruption is already in the cherub’s body.”

ment. @keenie-bopper

[dianoetikon]

@reflective-muses sent: to ratio from aventurine from: &. 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬.

❛ here, give this a try and tell me what you think. ❜

The gambler looks so natural behind the bar, mixing cocktails like it's his day job - then again, he looks natural doing most of anything Veritas has seen him do so far. Every gesture is smooth and eased, like his body simply knows what to do and he seems to go into any task with a confidence that most people will never gain in their entire lives. Of course there's a chance he has done this before; with a life like his Aventurine must find himself in all sorts of situations and preparing drinks hardly makes the list of strange deeds.

The cocktail that's placed in front of Veritas looks quite appealing. It's of a bright orange color with a syrupy layer of something dark red floating on top and bleeding into the orange blow. It's decorated with a stalk of mint and a slice of lemon and with the drops of condensate forming on the outside of the glass it promises to be refreshing. With some interest Ratio takes hold of the ridiculous curled loop straw and stirs, watching the two colors mingle.

"Before I consider trying this I'd like to know what went in it. With your luck I imagine it will taste decent enough but I won't risk you having found the one ingredient I'm allergic to."

[oraclememehacker]

puts a flower in her hair. 💜

Well this was certainly unexpected. Now she had a nice looking flower in her hair. Well, her last name, Sakura certainly made it fit anyways, even if it wasn't her name growing up. She took a moment to look at Haru, cheeks a slight shade of pink. "T-Thanks Haru..." She then looked at herself with her phone's selfie cam. It looked nice. "It looks really nice..."

[delusionaid]

@yuelun sent: "Do you think that we're actually doing the right thing?" (Morax; during the Archon War)

The assembly stretches as far as the eye can see - and all of it is theirs to rule. Every blade of grass, every tree that digs its roots deep into the land, every creature that calls this piece of earth its home. Only the water that falls onto their land and their people is borrowed, theirs only until it reunites with its own to return in another cycle guided by the seasons and their whims. It wasn't always like this, their reach not as far and their claim to the land not as unquestioned; but the land forgets and so do its people. Red earth turns black again in the months of rain and reports turn to memory, memory to myth.

Those who do not as easily forget are those who walk with time and look towards eternity. He remembers every spot in which a god has fallen, even when the remnants of their death have long since faded, just as he remembers what it took to strike them down. His hands are painted with the blood of those he must remember, whether they died for their own greed or his; such is the price of the seat. Nothing of worth comes easy and no decision that is readily made is one that matters.

Is that what she calls into question? The wish to be victorious in itself, the battles it creates? Or all that lies beneath that wish: their people and their hope for them to thrive, order that would bring an end to the war? The power to bring about that order, or their faith, perhaps, that it is not foolish to think themselves capable of wielding it. In the end it doesn't matter what she's thinking of while voicing her concern; either way, his answer will remain the same.

"Do you know me to do things I believe to be wrong?"

[inconcordia]

@aventvrina sent: "Do you enjoy threatening people?"

A provocative question but if that was the intention it fails to show effect with Sunday. He remains calm, offering Aventurine an almost benevolent little smile. "Judging by the way you pose this question you seem to have some preconceived ideas about me. In that case I assume you will be surprised to hear that I don't take joy in threats of any kind."

Threats are uncomfortable business and though a powerful tool they may be if used well, they can all too easily become a blade you cut yourself with it while handling it carelessly.

"Unfortunately.. sometimes it is necessary to remind others that undesirable actions have consequences and that certain boundaries must be respected. I like to see it as a reminder to use reason rather than a threat. Threats may be spoken out of malice, but I only resort to such measures when the circumstances justify the means."

[edcnfell]

Shhhh you see nothing.

Tags dump ahoy

[forgottnseccnd]

The insane shithead that was Aurelius ripped open a rift into the Warp, through the very fabric of time and space, all to gesture to it like an open door.

" So perhaps I may have quite the ally. My brothers may not like him. But my sister absolutely shall. He is polite. And very much enjoys the Ancient Terran Hymns that often play within his helm. His moniker is the Doom Slayer. "

Nirisch stared at the rift in pure fucking terror.

[goodxdog]

On one hand, Rathalos is neat and all, but Odogaron hits different.

"I'm basic, but I've always wanted Great Jaggras to eat me. But! In saying that."

"I always did have a soft spot for Odogaron. World was full of great, large, intimidating monsters... Just thinking about it mounting me after pushing me down and--"

Oh, she's gone off in her own world.

[muppeteyes1001]

“I will not make fun of your height. I would not stoop that low.”

Height Starters because height difference

The felinoid gives a small pout. Crossing her arms across her chest, but raising an amused brow towards the Fae. Her gaze then turns up towards the jar of reddish spices up on the back of the shelf a good two feet above her for a brief moment before turning back to Leondas.

"Hmph .. Oh really, now? ... Then why ask for me ta fetch the paprika then, aye ... Ya hardly ever ask for seasonin' on your steak ... Especially since ya tend ta prefer it quite rare an' bloody"

She then shakes her head a bit and sighs.

"Fine then! ... But, I'm gonna need ya to give me a lift up there .. The shelf is sturdy, but it won't hold me ... Would that be alright?"

[dianoetikon]

@voyagaer sent: While Dr. Ratio is busy with the lecture, Ace tries to balance the pen on his nose and, naturally, doesn't use half of his attention span to listen.

Not a second is wasted while Dr. Ratio explains the equation at hand, simultaneously illustrating the calculation path without a hint of hesitation, until he comes to a satisfying conclusion with his final word being underlined by the very last line drawn on the blackboard. "Any questions?" he prompts as he turns back to the class and, without missing a beat, chucks the remaining piece of chalk in his hand across the room. It hits the pen on Ace's nose at a perfect angle, catapulting it off his face and onto Deuce's head, who's sitting next to him, while the chalk itself ricochets off Ace's forehead and then disappears between the rows of students, leaving behind a bit of white dust on Ace's skin.

"Mr. Trappola. While I understand that this must be a thrilling experiment for you, this is neither physics nor PE but mathematics and you are a minimum of a decade too old to have nothing better on your mind than testing the basic laws of physics in a manner even primitive sea creatures can comprehend faster than you."

"Standing out in class for the pure sake of standing out is not an aspiration I recommend you to maintain, particularly if the very reason you're standing out is your notable absence of intelligence and willingness to muster even the bare minimum that might move you an inch closer to at least being considered as anything other than an embarassment to your dorm and this entire school." It doesn't escape Ratio's attention that the other students aren't using the commotion to copy his equation from the blackboard but rather stare with unveiled sensationalism. Perhaps as the term progresses they will learn.

"After your recent depressingly uninspired essay void of all noteworthy insight, proof of critical thinking ability or effort, I have little to no expectations for your performance on the exam in two weeks. I suggest you take some pointers from Mr. Spade lest you find yourself breaking the record for worst academic failure of your year." From the hallway the sound of the bell ringing can be heard. "Hm." Ratio rubs his hands together twice to dust off the chalk. "Off you go to torment Prof. Crewel. I'll be expecting your assignments on my desk Wednesday morning, no late submissions. Dismissed."