#NOT EVEN THE FACT THAT I LIKE TO SING BUT I CANNOT STAND HEARING OTHER PEOPLE SING AT RANDOM OR SING ALONG TO STUFF

[baycitystygian]

I already know I’m autistic but if I didn’t already then the fact that I noticed the difference in mixing between the version I’m used to of “White & Nerdy” and the Dolby master on apple music wouldve for sure tipped me off

[meanderingsofmistria]

Dance for Joy

Caldarus x gn! farmer

Word count: 902

Warnings: not proofread and honestly kinda rushed, but I was listening to some dance music and felt inspiration. Enjoy!

(I cannot wait for the day that I can smooch the dragon. Lemme plssss give the dragon a smooch)

    “Dance for me. Please.” 

     These words would have been jarring to hear no matter who it came from, but the word ‘jarring’ took on a whole new meaning when this phrase was spoken by Caldarus of all people. Or, well, creatures?

     “Why…” The farmer asks, their confused gaze falling upon the regal statue, an impressive carving standing tall and proud. 

     “The people of Mistria are joyous people-”

     “Even…”

     “Yes. Even March. Even he finds joy in this life. Though I, like many, cannot see it. I can feel it, though. Deep within me, I can feel when he is prideful, when he fashions a blade just to his liking. I can feel Lady Adeline’s desperation when her thoughts are about Mistria’s future and fate. I can feel Holt’s excitement as he thinks of a new joke to share. I can feel the joy of the people as they dance around each other at the seasonal festivals, and how their excitement and merriment are shared with each other as they enjoy themselves. And…I can feel your desire to join them, to dance alongside them. I can feel that, and I can see how you hesitate. I see and feel, yes, but I cannot understand.”

     The farmer remained silent, taking in the new information. They considered Caldarus their friends at this point. Their daily banter and amicable exchanges have slowly made them forget his true heritage. They heard his stories daily, grinned as he recalled some of his past, but at this moment they truly remembered that he was a dragon. 

     “I enjoy dancing, I do. But I don’t enjoy it when others watch me dance. I feel out of place and I get embarrassed, so even if I work up the courage to dance with them, I don’t think I would feel happy doing it.”

     The Guardian of Mistria grew silent. His words were often so expressive that one could easily overlook the fact that he didn’t have the ability to show any expressions on his stone face.

     “Farmer, tell me. Would you find joy in dancing if I were to avert my gaze. I wish only for your joy, for you to dance freely.”

     “Why?”

     Again, the farmer is met with a brief silence.

     “I feel the joy of the inhabitants of Mistria. I feel their content and their happiness. I revel in their joy and laughter…though I find myself yearning to feel yours as well.”

     This time the Guardian is met with silence from the farmer.

     “You…” The farmer pauses, collecting their thoughts. “...you yearn for …my joy?” They ask, hesitantly, as if waiting for the punchline to a joke made at their expense.

     “Yes. Although if I were to put more thought into it, I feel as though craving would better encompass my feelings on the matter.”

     A silence is shared between the two. One lost in raging thoughts, the other calmly navigating through them. 

     “There…isn’t any music. How shall I dance?”

     Caldarus was made of stone, yet the farmer swore they could see him light up.

     “I am of the opinion that the sounds of nature provide the most brilliant music. However…I may remember some music from a long time ago. Music that could be used for dancing. I am not the best singer, but I can follow a tune just fine.”

     “You’d sing for me?”

     “If you dance for me, yes, I shall sing for you.”

     “How shall I dance?”

     “You may dance however you wish, farmer. My only request is that you may feel joy in your dance.”

     The farmer smiles wistfully, feeling that aforementioned joy creep up on them.

     “Very well o’ Guardian of Mistria.” They took a dramatic bow before the statue. “Sing and I shall dance for you. Caldarus chuckled heartily, amused by their theatrics. 

     The Guardian and the farmer made good on their vow to each other, singing and dancing for hours upon hours. Even as the day turned to night, the stars provided a spotlight for their performance. The farmer danced and danced, laughing and smiling, singing along as best they could as they talked and shared stories.

     As the night continued, the Guardian Dragon found himself yearning, craving for something he could not yet have. The farmer danced beautifully. They were not classically trained, nor was their technique flawless…but they were having fun. And Caldarus felt odd about that. An odd feeling bubbling up from deep inside of him. He craved…he wanted that joy. He looked upon the farmer and watched as they danced…he wanted to dance beside them. He wanted them to look upon him with a joyous smile and dance alongside him. He wanted to hold them, smile at them, and be joyful in their presence. Ah to feel that joy, the joy of dancing. The joy of loving.

     The night progressed wonderfully, up until a point when the farmer suddenly collapsed from exhaustion, sometime around 2am, if he recalled correctly. They stopped, but he still sang. He sang to them throughout the night, until he could not sing anymore. He was regaining strength, thanks to the farmer and their offerings of essence, but he could not remain conscious for as long as he hoped. No, he could not dance with them, nor could he smile at them. But he could sing for them, if only a little, in hopes that they would dance for him another night.

(Thanks for reading! Feel free to request!)

[miintsprigz]

Trying something new…

TF2 mercs with a reader experiencing a panic attack. Gender neutral.

This has Engie, Medic, and Scout, cuz I love those three especially. Not sure if I can do requests, but I could try.

Notes: I’ve never had the pleasure of actually playing the game because my technology is very limited (one day…), but I love the characters. If my writing for the mechanics is wack, that’s why.

I also know it would be hard to have a panic disorder and be a mercenary, but I feel like it could still happen sometimes. They’re still human.

Warnings: descriptions of panic attacks and other mental health ailments that may be associated with them, including dissociation, hyperventilation, insomnia, and hallucinations.

Engineer:

-You had been forced into a corner. Inching closer and closer to respawn by the second.

-How many more hits could you take? You weren’t sure. But you didn’t want to go through that again…it had happened so many times…maybe you truly were losing your touch.

-The breath hitched in your throat, and tears threatened to spill down your face. Please…please just leave me alone…!

-A voice crooned from just behind him. The sadistic grin was wiped off your attacker’s face as he received a bright bolt of light to the back of his head, slumping over with a thud.

- “That’s just about enough a’ that, son.” Engineer, with the Short Circuit still smoking, looked down at you. “Ah…” Even with his eyes covered by his goggles, you could see the pleased smirk drop immediately as he retracted the weapon.

-Maybe it was the visible concern, maybe it was the fact that you didn’t have to be in fight or flight anymore, but the dam broke. You couldn’t breathe, every attempt at getting air came out in sharp gasps, audibly sobbing.

-“C’mere, darlin’…how bad did he getcha… Whoa—”

-You clamped your arms around him when he went to help you up, holding for dear life as your face quickly became slick with tears. “T-too close…I, I almost…oh my gosh…”

-Engie went rigid for a moment, clearly not expecting the sudden grasp, not knowing what to do.

-Machines, those he knew how to fix. But to find one of his closest teammates broken down crying in his arms, shaking like a leaf… how could he fix that? Could he…? Surely, surely he could. He would. That was his job!

-Slowly, warmly, two strong arms wrapped around you, stroking your shoulder with his thumb.

-“Now, now, honey…don’t you cry, I got ‘em for ya. And if anyone lays another finger on ya, they’re gettin’ a wrench to the dome, hear me?” You nodded quick, curling your head into his shoulder.

-“Let’s get you outta here, we’ll find the doc together, patch you up. Up ya go…”

-Assuming you didn’t start walking by yourself, he did his best to smoothly transfer you out of the embrace and into a close carry.

-You still struggled to catch your breath, and as he picked his pace up, you rested your head against his chest.

-Feeling his voice reverberate, you heard him humming the song he’d been softly singing the other night. The same one you had fallen asleep to. Trying to soothe you, in his own sort of way.

Medic

-Burning. Burning all over. That’s all you remember. You’d dropped your guard…there was just a Pyro and a Scout left, and you’d ended up completely burned.

-As you were brought back, you found that you couldn’t stand.

-Medic hurried up to you as you dropped to your knees, MediGun in hand. “Ah, wunderbar (wonderful)! I have saved a charge just for you, let’s go finish—oh. (Y/N), was ist los (what’s the matter)???”

-You grasped at your arms, your legs, you swore you could still feel the flames licking at you. Your breathing sped up, feeling your heart pounding in your ears.

-Medic may have had his license revoked, but he still knew exactly what this was.

-As you tried to get up and listen to what he had been telling you to do, he immediately stood in front of you. “Nein, I cannot in good conscience let you go back out right now. Bitte (please), (Y/N), sit down.”

-Plunking yourself right back down on the floor, you fought hard against the tightness that was forming in your throat. “That…that freaking sucked…”

-“I know that it did.” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him moving to put an arm around your shoulder, giving you a moment to back away if you needed to.

-He seemed surprised when you instead leaned against him, trying your best to keep yourself together.

-“Oh! …ah, Liebe, that is not one you recover from quickly. Sit still…it’s okay.”

-The doctor reached over and softly ruffled your hair, his touch surprisingly gentle. A few tears escaped your eyes, but you were beginning to catch your breath again.

-“I know I was a bit strict, but…sending you out like this could easily get you killed again…and we do not want that.”

-Medic stared daggers towards the direction of the scent of smoke. How dare they set you ablaze. He’d make sure to take them out in pieces…

-The thought of bloodshed nearly drove him to his feet, almost hungry for it, but as he looked at you, he dropped his shoulders. We can get revenge later. They need me right now.

-“Liebe, listen. Don’t work so hard, alright? It’s no good for your heart… There will be hell to pay for that…for now though...stay here. And I’ll stay too, if it helps. I just healed everyone, I think they’ll be good.”

-You glanced up at him. “Are you comfortable like this?” He rolled his eyes wearily, but chuckled.

-“Me? I’m just fine.”

Scout

-The enemy Spy had been absolutely unrelenting for the last few days. Nowhere was safe. Nowhere at all.

-You were so anxious about going back to that the next day that it was even beginning to mess with your sleep. You swear you saw shadows moving, eyes in the dark…the lack of sleep only made it worse.

-Every encounter with that menace ran through your mind, playing on repeat as you stared at the ceiling. Finally, you decided to give up on sleep and go back downstairs.

-Upon seeing a shadow standing in the darkness, you couldn’t help but stumble backwards with a gasp, fumbling for a weapon that wasn’t anywhere near you.

-“Whoa! Hey pal, whatcha doin’ up right now?”

-The voice was clearly that of the Scout…or maybe that was what he wanted you to think.

-Unable to catch your breath, you ended up with your back to a wall, hands up in front of you in a panic. You saw Scout through your fingers—and quickly-accumulating tears at the corners of your vision. He looked…worried. Extremely so.

-Scout was confused, not atypical for him. But why were they so afraid? He hadn’t been too loud, had he? “…(Y/N)…it’s me, Scout. Jeremy. Ya…ya don’t gotta be scared. I’m sorry…didn’t mean ta scare ya.”

-Your hands visibly shook as you looked at him, desperately searching for some sign that could tell you if this was real or fake. “…you’re the real one…?”

-Oh. They were scared about the Spy…that scared? He’d noticed they’d been acting way different.

-“It’s the real me, (Y/N). Ain’t no freakin’ Spy gettin’ in here with me around. I’d never lie to ya, so please…”

-Somehow this did the trick. You fell apart, crying into your hands, which were cold and clammy at this point, ashamed of your own fear. “I’m sorry! …I’m sorry…”

-“Hey…it’s okay, I gotcha…” Scout knelt down in front of them, holding his empty hands out. Maybe if they see I’m not armed, it’ll help?

-You felt a gentle tap on your knee. Pulling one hand back, you found Scout holding his own out to you. “C’mere a sec.”

-Taking his hand, his fingers carefully intertwined with yours. You could feel the roughness around his palm from the constant grip on his bat.

-His eyes were bright, even in the dark. “That Spy? He’s a wuss, ya hear me? All talk. And next time we go up against him, we’re gonna send him back to his base pissin’ himself and cryin’ for his ma, cuz nobody messes with us, right?”

-You couldn’t help but crack a smile as he tried to rally you, in the carefree cocky way he always did. “Y-yeah…that’s right.”

-“You know it! We’ll win, we always do! And if he gets anywhere near you, I’ll whack his friggin’ lights out, so don’t you worry, doll! Not out there…and not here.”

-With this, he pulled you in by the hand and wrapped his arms around you, giving you a firm pat on the back. “You know I’d never let anybody hurt ya, right?”

-“Y-yeah…thank you. Sorry I got so scared.”

“Don’t gotta apologize for nothin’. He’s a creep, I don’t blame ya. But that’s all he is.”

-Your eyelids were now growing heavy, and a quiet yawn interrupted the conversation.

-“Sleep, (Y/N). I’m right here. Ain’t nothin’ gonna touch ya with me here.”

[sweetkpopmusings]

woozi boyfriend headcanons <3

a/n: posting jihoon's boyfriend headcanons next as requested!! i am SO endeared by him <333 i'd trust him with my life tbh and i just know i'd feel safe if i had him around like he's a top-tier protector while also being a silly billy :,-) pics not mine !

content: fluff | wc: 1.3k | warnings: none! | pairing: boyfriend!jihoon x gn!reader | requests: open

after writing this, i want nothing more than to see jihoon smile and give me an endearing head pat :,-( please enjoy <333

our music boy!!! hard-working king!!!! talented icon!!!!

he's so cool in every way except for when it comes to you

he just melts at the sight of you

like he's cool on the outside but anyone who knows him knows that he's losing it over how much he loves you

tbh even people who don't know him all that well can see very recognizable heart eyes

he just looks at you with so much adoration and fondness and it SHOWS <333

sometimes when you're speaking to him, especially about things you're passionate about, there will be pauses before he responds

it's not because he isn't listening. it's the complete opposite !!

he's so immersed in your thoughts, your voice, your movements, your words, that he has to find his way back to earth before he can speak

and honestly, if it weren't for the fact that it proves to you he is listening and encourages you to continue speaking, he'd stay completely silent during times like these

he's in awe of you and he wants to stay that way forever

jihoon gets flustered by you constantly

the butterflies he felt when he first saw you never go away

they actually get stronger over time because the more he realizes he loves you the more those butterflies of elation swarm inside him

this is one of the many inspirations he finds in you for music

he actually writes lots of songs about you but he is so nervous to tell you about it each time so he doesn't tell you beforehand he just plays the song for you when he thinks it's ready

while he doesn't directly say it's about you, you know it is about you because he slipped a phrase you two always say to each other in there or he references a favorite song/idea/sound/item of yours in the verse

in response, you give him a lil squeeze on his hand or a kiss on the cheek or a smile that shows him with certainty you love and cherish how he incorporated you into his work again

it all goes unsaid, be he can feel through these exchanges that you feel the depth of his love

his heart is FULL!!!!

he is blushing, but he fights with all his might to act like he isn't blushing

jihoon actually blushes any time you compliment him because he is so soft for you :,-)

he will also completely short circuit if he hears you singing or humming a song he made

it catches him off-guard and he's standing there like :-0

he's so precious <33333

jihoon's also the silliest boy with you

he laughs SO hard whenever you make a joke

like i'm talking open mouth, loud, PUAHAHAH energy

he cannot contain it he thinks you're so funny and delightful

loves teasing you so much. he knows it'll get a laugh out of you, which is one of his favorite sounds in the universe, and he just loves being playful with you even if it means roasting you

jihoon will also do slapstick, dad jokes, or other ridiculous humor antics to make you laugh

he's actually so funny like !!! you're never going to feel bored again you've got a true entertainer with you 25/8

the entertainment carries over to when he tells stories about you

they're so animated and his descriptions of you are so vivid that seventeen actually feel as though they know you before they meet you

a few members comment "wow, he got your voice exactly how it sounds!" and "he wasn't kidding. you do get that look in your eyes when you tell a joke!" and so on

i'm putting my money on soonyoung, seungkwan, and chan to expose him like this

you're shocked because ??? how often did he talk about you ???

when you turn to look at jihoon he's a blushing mess and waving his hand in the air and chuckling to act as though it isn't a big deal

when you turn away he is giving Death Glares to everyone else but they're just laughing because they've never seen him more enamored before and it's the perfect fuel for teasing him <3

his hugs engulf you

even the slightest of hugs leave you feeling completely wrapped up in his embrace. he holds you with so much care and attention that even a light brush of his hand on your shoulder makes you feel so wonderfully warm

when he's sleepy he is definitely nuzzling his head into your shoulder/neck/etc like he wants the world to disappear and you are his escape !!! his comfort !!! i'm sobbing now

he's often softly tapping your shoulder to get your attention without disrupting whatever you're watching/reading/etc because he wants your attention but would never take it without you being willing to give it

stop why is he so cute and gentle :-(

whenever you two are sitting, lying, or standing near each other, he'll mindlessly drum his fingers against you like he's playing the piano

woozi will always sing you to sleep if you ask

like yes he'll resist at first because he's a lil shy but he's not going to say "no" when he knows how much it'll comfort you

he thinks there are few things better than the sound of your contented sighs as you drift into sleep and the look on your face when you finally fall into a deep slumber

while he sings to you, he will play with your hair, give you sweet little pets, and soothingly rub your arms/back <3

he will never let you down

whether it's picking up every item on your grocery list

or being by your side during a hard time

he. is. there.

nothing would break his heart more than you feeling alone or unsupported

you always make him feel grounded, and he constantly works to reciprocate that for you

he is genuinely such a solid partner. he's your rock in the truest sense of the word, and the trust between you two is otherworldly

while there are always butterflies and new experiences shared between you, there has, from day one, been a sense of sureness there too

your relationship feels so real and so right

woozi's love is strong. through the ups and downs, his love for you never wavers, and he never lets you doubt his sincerity towards you

tbh i think he really desires security with you

one of the first times he's very vulnerable with you, probably late at night while in the studio because there's a specific intimacy you find together in that space, he admits to you that he really wants someone you to feel sure of him

you were sure of him before then, but, in that moment when he completely opened up, you knew, more than anything, you were sure of him

and all it took was the grasp of your hand, the look in your eyes, and the words i'm sure of you, jihoon for him to know that you felt everything toward him that he felt about you

from then on, so much of your relationship goes unsaid

because you two feel it and know it so deeply that it doesn't need to be expressed

however, jihoon never misses an opportunity to express his love and appreciation for you

he's very much the type to be lovey dovey when he's feeling soft

like this boy could give you a toothache with his sweetness

and he's smiling that angelic smile the whole time i'm biting my fist pLEASE

if you ask him to do aegyo, he'll do it in a heartbeat

you show this off in front of seventeen and they're DYING and they expect woozi to say something but he's not fazed like obviously he's doing aegyo ?? what else is he supposed to do when the love of his life asks him to act cute ??

the answer is do aegyo, obviously.

jihoon is simply the most romantic and sincere partner you could ask for. he's dedicated to you, heart and soul, and he proves that every day by being there for you

sorry i have to go and read some poetry because loving and being loved by jihoon would simply be the most beautiful thing in the world

i hope everyone gets the jihoon they deserve <3

[dairy-farmer]

I am someone who absolutely believes in the shortest family member Tim Drake

Even Cass and Steph are taller than Tim, at least close to 5 centimeters in length

And the girls often use this advantage by putting their chin or their heads between Tim's hair

Of course, since the height difference between them is not so much, they need to stand slightly on tiptoe while doing this, but this is not something that stops either of them

Tim's hair always smells with a different aroma. Since he doesn't go to the grocery store to buy shampoo for himself, he usually uses anyone's belongings that are in the bathroom at that moment. And since everyone likes Tim to smell like them, if they're acting by watching his bathroom hours, it's not a very important information

Bruce uses his tall stature advantage mostly to stroke Tim's slightly wavy hair when he comes out of the bathroom. He chooses the shortest but still effective way because of his structure, which still cannot decide what he should do about physical contact

Of course, there are also cases when he holds the boy when he is very tired, but this is more related to the fact that Tim is a very thin person

He has strong muscles under his weak-looking body, but it's never noticeable in the moments when he's standing next to Bruce

Dick is very fond of burying Tim in his chest. It gives a separate happiness to watch the stress in his body gradually disappear as a result of the boy hearing his own heartbeat

When Tim absolutely refuses to get up from the computer and blackness forms under his bloodshot eyes from insomnia, Dick takes the little body in his arms, puts Tim's head on the point of his neck and begins to sing a lullaby. Just like when a mother puts her baby to sleep on her bosom, Tim begins to sleep soundly after a certain period of time

Of course, it should not be forgotten that if Dick tries to leave Tim on his bed, the boy will wake up, so Dick sits in the rocking chair that used to be left in the house, and in that position they both share each other's body temperature until morning, having a peaceful sleep

Jason especially likes to move by throwing Tim on his shoulder. Tim has normal feet for his height, so trying to run away from someone means equivalent to Jason staying too far ahead, so if you see an angry Tim swinging on Jason's shoulder, you need to stop them

Jason also likes to shake Tim from side to side by grabbing him by the armpits

Although he knows that Tim can get into a scratching cat mode when he's angry, the momentary look of surprise on his face is worth the nail marks that will form on his arms later

And although he will definitely be much taller than Tim, Damian has no right to make such moves

Because if he did it Tim's pride can't take that...

Since their relationship has improved over the years, it's not a strange image that Tim is touching Damian

So if Damian made a move that made Tim proud, Tim would go up to the nearest chair and stroke the hair of his younger brother, who was much taller than him

Or if he suddenly becomes full of love for him for no reason he pinches his cheeks

Or jumps off from the chair onto Damian's shoulders when he wants to pick up an item that has been left too high, or when he gets angry, he gets on the nearest climbing material again, hitting the book he picked up very lightly on Damian's head

Although it was a very funny sight for the others, Damian got so used to this situation after a while that he started lowering his body to certain levels depending on Tim's body movements

If he was sulking by looking up at a point, he was preparing himself to hold Tim's ankles or bringing his head below Tim's hand level at the moment of frowning for a hit that never hurt

Or if the fingers of both hands were swinging quickly, he was waiting for his cheeks to be pinched, and when one hand was raised in the air, he brought his head to full hand level

And although everyone loves the fact that being taller and older than Tim gives them the opportunity to embrace his small body, it is inevitable that they will be jealous of the gestures that only belong to Damian

And Damian doesn't hesitate to slap it in their faces whenever he wants to annoy the other family members

Big little brother advantages you know...

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺tim being the smallest of all the bats and picked up like a little kitty, moved around and adjust, kissed, and rocked to sleep. he's treated so tender and lovingly by his family and then damian!!!! their relationship coming so far that tim shows damian loving affection and kisses his little brother whose grown so much bigger and so tim needs to use step stoos in order to kiss his forehead and pat his head 🥺🥺🥺 and the the imagery of time hopping on damian's back!!!!! this is just so sweet and cute!!! all of them doting on their smallest member including damian who is the youngest but of course he keeps an eye out for his little big brother!!! 🥺🥺🥺

[izvmimi]

cw: minors dni. violence. cheating reader, complicated relationship dynamics, a part 4 to nova’s ( @raichijingos ) fic calling twice. read the preceding part here.

For the first time in your life, you regret not bringing along your hero costume. No gauntlets, no hammers, not even brass knuckles (yes, you considered these too) are at your disposal in this moment, and the anger you feel in all parts of your body extending even to your very fingertips feels as though it will never dissipate no matter how hard you hit her. The ringing in your ears is so loud that it drowns out the cacophony around you, between Izuku and Katsuki still yelling at each other and office members ducking for cover as a desk flies across the room at breakneck speed, yet somehow you can still hone in on your treacherous friend’s voice.

She looks in a daze still as she thinks about the ring that will never be hers and how her life decisions have culminated to this very moment but she’s startled out of silence once your vengeance-filled eyes bore holes through her skin.

“I- I can explain,” she starts, but it doesn’t take long for your palm to go straight across her face, heavier than you’ve ever slapped anyone in your life, and if it weren’t for the fact that you were so damn mad at her, you’d have asked her why she didn’t dodge.

She gasps, the five finger handprint blatantly visible, and her own hand covers it as she stares at you in shock. 

“___, I-”

You slap her again before she can say another word and she doesn’t gasp this time, instead staring at you harshly with red, angry tears in her eyes. And still, she doesn’t say a single word, because there isn’t anything she really can say. It’s obvious what has happened, it’s obvious how she’s betrayed you after all this time.

“How long?” you ask, really yell. She looks away, and you grab her by the hair, pulling her face back to face you.

“How fucking long?!” you repeat. Her cheek is starting to swell and she cries, not out of pain, but from a deep sense of shame that came far too late.

“I… can’t remember.”

“You can’t fucking remember when you started fucking my fiance?” you yelled. The urge to spit in her face is strong enough to make you shake but the way your friend trembles in front of you in remorse, feigned or otherwise, is enough to make you unclench the fist you have raised with your other hand.

You don’t have enough time to reconsider punching her when you hear a deafening crash. The two of you, wide-eyed, turn to the source of the noise, and find that where both of your partners had just been exchanging blows was now replaced by a large gaping hole in the side of the building.

“Holy shit-”

Both of you amble to the new makeshift floor to ceiling window in the side of the building, the edges singed with smoke likely from one of Katsuki’s blasts. In seconds, between Blackwhip and repeated blasts from Katsuki’s quirk, the two men are off still tussling in the distance.

“You have to be fucking kidding me,” you start, and the overhead sprinklers and a fire alarm seem to go off at once, drenching everyone in water. While the rest of the onlookers finally disperse, the both of you stand, not bothering to evacuate, watching out onto the city. 

There’s a pause that is far too extended. Your best friend almost looks like she’s no longer breathing. You turn to each other at the same time.

You still want to kill her, but the fire in your belly is partially extinguished, perhaps due to the extreme behavior you see amongst the men you both love. Whatever their fight is right now cannot solely be because of you two, but something unspoken between them. Boundaries tested and crossed and issues of personal pride.

Her voice is soft as she dares to ask,

“... Did you really…” she pauses, the words struggling to come out of her mouth. She really should keep her mouth shut, she thinks, but it’s unbearable for her to think. “Did you guys really.. Together?”

You glare at her.

“Are you really asking?”

She swallows hard. From beside her, you can see her fingers straighten and tighten back into a fist. You should be satisfied with the hurt look on her face, happy even, but the victory seems somewhat hollow.

“We’re still not even,” you say nevertheless. Her body tenses, then relaxes with a heavy sigh. The swelling has yet to go down but it will one day. Your anger is ever-present. 

“I hope he kills him,” she says, finally. She isn’t looking at you, nor you at her.

“Same.”

Neither of you clarify what you mean. Which ‘he’ matters to which one of you at this moment.

There’s yet another pause. You can feel the kettle of her blood boiling; she was always so easy to predict. It isn’t over. No matter how many times or what she did with Katsuki, she still couldn’t fathom the very idea of you ever hurting her back the way you did.

“Was it before or after you found out?” she asks, her voice trembling ever so slightly. The idea that she could be mad despite everything, despite the fact that she’d hurt you first began to curdle you as well.

“Last night.”

She lunges and you smile, intercepting the punch, grabbing her wrist and flinging her backwards; she crashes into a vending machine that spills out its contents. Before she can recover - you were always the better martial artist - you’re on top of her, one hand on her neck.

Teeth gleaming, you grin widely. 

“Want a chip?” you offer.

“Fuck you,” she hisses.

“Was Katsuki not enough?”

She grits her teeth. You can sense the gleam of her Quirk starting in her hands and jump off of her preemptively before she uses her ability, and she glares at you viciously. She doesn’t fix her mouth to say it but you know what she wants to say.

You didn’t have to hurt me back, her eyes say; you know her like the back of your hand.

You might not have had to hurt her back, but you did.

“Just so you know, it was decent, but you clearly got the better deal,” you say, twisting the knife in further. Her face twists into a snarl, then new tears start in her eyes.

“It wasn’t as simple as you think it was!”

You’re very close to punching her again for daring to say something so ridiculous, but instead you hold yourself still, crossing your arms over your chest to keep your hands from slipping around her neck.

“I think it’s pretty simple to keep your legs closed. See? I’m doing it right fucking now.”

She opens her mouth then closes it. The two of you stand face to face, breathing heavily, quietly, and then you think of the fact that Izuku and Katsuki are still fighting, and something in both of you stills.

There is a lot left unsaid between you two but you’ll deal with each other later, once you’ve ensured neither of Japan’s top 2 have met their end in such a ridiculous, over the top way.

[thekintsugikids]

i noticed the similarities between fnowae and pavlove about a year and a half ago?? something like that. and quite frankly, while i could panegyrize fob’s entire discography till the end of time, specifically hearing those songs back to back, hearing, “i’m the invisible man who can’t stop staring at the mirror,” followed by, “i’m just the man on the balcony, singing ‘nobody will ever remember me’” made me absolutely spiral. like…both songs feel like they’re about this heart wrenching, soul crushing loneliness and just wanting someone to understand, to feel the way you do, to just fucking get it already, but the difference is in the way they see that. the different perspectives.

to fully explain this i think it’s important to fully understand the amadeus of it all for which i cannot recommend enough zero’s post about fnowae.

to use some of their words/phrasing, the quote itself as the title…fascinates me. it is salieri (in this instance, pete) repudiating god, declaring him to be his mortal enemy from here on for having the nerve to bestow upon amadeus (patrick) such brilliance (and i will be referring to him as amadeus because that feels like it might be a little cleaner than calling him mozart throughout this whole Thing etc etc etc). to mock salieri’s mediocrity. he is so envious of amadeus that he feels amadeus’s gifts are a divine punishment from god himself. “from now on we are enemies, you and i.”

what does all of that have to do with pavlove, though? amadeus is the gifted one, whom salieri finds to be insufferably annoying, but staggeringly brilliant. indescribably so (the fact that they do eventually befriend one another, and when amadeus dies, it essentially drives salieri insane and many years later he even claims he murdered amadeus, despite the fact that amadeus was sick, having worked himself to exhaustion and death……all of that is another can of worms i don’t…i don’t have it in me to crack open right now). “nobody will ever remember me, rejoice and fall to your knees.” “i want to make you as lonely as me, so you can get addicted to this.” bone crushing loneliness clawing at the door like a dog just begging for companionship. i need someone, please be that someone. i don’t know what to do if i don’t have someone. but maybe it’s for the best. but i can’t leave well enough alone (historically, “i don’t do too well on my own”) so i need you to feel what i feel. empty. isolated. lonely. then maybe you’ll need me the same way i need you.

“their faces are dancing till they can’t stand it.” being the outsider, the wallflower, the lone observer, because what else can you do? what else is there to do? it’s three drinks too late to talk to anyone but myself. who even wants to be there with the lunatic on a downward spiral entirely of his own design, who has faded so seamlessly into the background that he doesn’t even know who he is or if he even exists anymore. getting worse till there’s nothing left.

from now on we are enemies is pete vs patrick. two brilliant artists duking it out because one is so enamored with, but absolutely cannot stand, the brilliance of the other. pavlove is…different. more distanced. it’s the realization. and if pavlove is the realization, from now on we are enemies is the final showdown.

pavlove is misery with the life he’s cultivated, with the parties and the tabloids running rampant in the 2000s. the drugs he’d been doing that his best friend didn’t even fully realize the severity of because, in his mind, drug abuse was this abstract thing that he couldn’t quite comprehend. fnowae is the culmination of isolating oneself from those which he loves and cares about, because he’s so lost in his misery.

“what good comes of something when i’m just the ghost of nothing?” because progression in any capacity is a threat to your self preservation. creative integrity, personal growth, whatever it is, it has begun to feel like it’s unattainable because the risk is too high. so what’s the point? it’s a three-and-two pitch to walk to anywhere else. so stay where you are. don’t bother. patrick is brilliant, patrick is gifted and he doesn’t even know it and i’m just a painter looking at the walls trying to finger paint and he’s the only one who has been able to finish these half-baked paintings i throw at him. if this thing is breaking down, what am i good for?

trick question. stalemate. stay right here. if anything, move back.

but there’s a wife to try to make a life with and a child on the way and if i do move forward, who’s to say i don’t just find new ways to make it all worse? my anchor has started to completely detach—get engaged, make a solo record, make himself a life, eventually…soon, even—and i’m let out to sea all on my own and i don’t want to be here, i wanted to go back to land. i wasn’t prepared to still be here. but somehow, i am, and i don’t know what to do. i’m the just the man on the balcony, singing, “nobody will ever remember me,” because amadeus over here is doing the things that are worthwhile. he’s the one people will revere, and i will fade in the distance as the blurry shadow whose features have smudged and disappeared with time, because my contributions pale in comparison to his genius, because i wasn’t blessed with the ability to sing or write music or do so many of the ten billion things he is capable of. because who knows how i’ll be remembered now that the ship i’ve spent the last 8 years manning is possibly about to sink and maybe that means that will be my legacy, if i even have a legacy. if anyone remembers that i was ever here. but that doesn’t mean i don’t want to be remembered. that doesn’t mean i like what i’ve become, how my meaning has become dependent on the twin skeleton beside me. i’m the invisible man who can’t stop staring at the mirror. begging to be remembered…because that’s the point of it all, right?

i said it at the beginning, fall out boy had to be fall out boy and leave the world on a cliffhanger for three years. but it’s been 14 years since believers never die vol 1. we know what happens next. we’ve read the next chapter, watched the sequel, seen how it all pans out. they get to be happy middle aged men playing these songs, reclaiming the trauma and horrors and pain within them, making them into newer, happier memories, because they’re not about that pain anymore. and they haven’t been for a long time. they haven’t been theirs in ages. and so they can finally let it go, with their spouses and kids in the audience cheering them on (well, maybe not the kids. they’re dads, after all, they can’t think they’re cool). with stronger bonds between them and a stronger sense of self in each of them. because they’re not defined by each other anymore, no, this is their fun little art project. patrick composes for a living now (a composer but never composed, who always saw himself as a composer first, now literally a composer by trade), joe and pete each have multiple different ventures they explore in their free time (the symphonies of the overdosed, now being sung by yourself because you don’t need someone else to do it for you anymore), andy is in a million different bands at any given time. they don’t need each other—they don’t need to be defined by each other—they want to be with each other now.

no amadeus, no salieri, no jealousy, no enemies in sight, just four dudes who love making music together. who can make music on their own, who do make music on their own and/or separate from fall out boy, but can’t make their music without all of them together. at the end of the day, “no matter how obsessed you’ve been with your own vanishing, there will always be someone who still wants you whole.”

[panicloser]

DDLC characters when they're drunk headcanons

as someone who has never gotten drunk I am obviously the right person to make headcanons on this ;D (some of this headcanons are more set for when they're older)

------------------------------------------

Yuri

-I think would handle it the best out of all them. She has the most experience drinking out of all them so she knows her limits

-She has a pretty high tolerance though

-One of the big reasons she likes drinking is because it lessens her social anxiety 

-Gets increasingly more social and talkative the more she drinks, she’s gets more open and relaxed and is more willing to try talking to others even if she still comes off weird

-Along with that she also gets increasingly more impulsive

-She can already be a bit impulsive at times when she’s sober but this fact skyrockets when she’s drunk since there’s no voice of reason holding her back

-When she gets really drunk, without fail she will always do or say something in the spur of the moment that she horrifically regrets the next day which she’ll then proceed to agonise over it for the rest of the week

-If she’s in a good mood when this happens it’s usually just something really embarrassing that her friends tease her for

-If she’s in a bad mood when this happens something more dangerous could happen 

-She learnt from experience how much to drink as to not get to that point but also feel the weight of social anxiety lighten a bit

-If she’s drunk she needs someone to babysit her and keep a close eye on her, when she’s tipsy she babysits her drunk friends

-Also if she’s around someone she’s interested in romantically while she’s drinking she can turn real flirty

-She’s got some banger pick up lines up her sleeve, Yuri rizz is real

-When texting, still tries to spell good when she’s drunk but it doesn’t work out so well

-Imagine her infodumping while drunk, imagine a drunken Yuri rant, 10/10 must have experience

Natsuki

-She’s got a short tolerance and she’s not afraid to use it

-Was scared to drink at first because it reminded her of her dad but it ended up working out okay

-To sum up her drunken self, whatever emotion she’s feeling when she drinks will be exacerbated when she’s drunk

-if she’s in a good happy mood, she’s the life of the party, she’ll be energetic, much friendlier, she’s loud, excited, might stand on a table or two

-if she��s angry, she’s willing to throw hands over a slice of pizza. Copious amounts of swearing and angry half baked rants, again she’s loud, she’s a scary little feral gremlin. Tries not to angry drink since she usually ends up regretting those the most

-if she’s sad, she’s a hundred percent gonna end up crying. Will be more willing to spill her feelings, she’ll complain to the nearest friend, she’s pretty quiet and soft-spoken in this state.

-You might even see a rare clingy Natsuki if she’s in a certain mood

-overall she’s a wild card, a mixed bag of a drinking buddy

-Really likes going to karaoke and singing really badly and loudly between drinks

-hates the fact that she ends up throwing up 90% of the time

-a lot of burps and hiccups, she chuckles at it everytime

-still has a pretty good sense of danger when drunk off her ass

-a drunk Natsuki gets flustered cripplingly easily and can’t hide it, she falls apart, keep that in mind if you flirt with her

-cannot fucking hear you if you talk to her in a reasonable tone at a slight distance, goddamn deaf woman

Sayori

-the least coherent drunk out of these four

-also doesn’t have a very high tolerance, it doesn’t take many drink for it to get to her

-doesn’t like drinking too often but every now and again is okay

-is just super duper out of it when she’s drunk

-she’ll be half zoned out the whole time, her brain is %100 just vibing

-surprisingly won’t say much, she’ll have mild reactions to what’s happening around her or she’ll say or ask something really random out of nowhere every few minutes

-if you ask her a question she’ll reply like ten minutes later, very slow processing, windows 98 brain

-is extra clumsy when drunk. She’ll drop and knock over so many things and probably fall at some point. The next morning she’ll wake up with a bruise with no memory of how she got it

-if she’s in a good mood when drunk she’ll be really calm and lightly bubbly

-but drinking is bad for her when she’s not in a good mood. Can turn into a sad drunk, her feelings become even heavier than usual and she can spiral really bad, she sometimes fears drinking due to experiencing this before

-tends to get sleepy and drowsy. She’ll always end up passing out by the end of a session

-on rare occasion, if there’s alcohol in the house she’ll drink a bit when she’s having problems insomnia problems

-also most likely gets extra cuddly and affectionate when she’s drunk or tipsy

Monika

-usually drinks the least out of the four of them

-has a medium sized tolerance

-the only reason she drinks the least amount is because of  the lack of control she has when she’s under the influence

-doesn’t mind being a little tipsy so much, will just be more relaxed at that point

-an existential drunk 

-starts questioning the meaning of life, her purpose, why things are the way they are and other deep questions, half of them end up not making sense

-can spiral too deep and either get depressed or turn into a conspiracy theorist

-either that or she’s a clingy affectionate drunk

-if there is anyone she cares about there, especially if it’s in a romantic way, she will cling to them the whole time and use every type of love language she can think of on them

-she also talks a lot, she talks about random stories or things she finds interesting or about her feelings, anything, she wants to shut up but she can’t stop

-and of course she’s more impulsive too and will go along with whatever idea someone comes up with

-she perceives her drunk self to be annoying and embarrassing which is why she now avoids it as much as she can

-protecc drunk Monika

--------------------------------------------

was gonna do some hcs on how the interact with each other but might do that another time im lazy now

(apologies if this whole thing is a terrible grasp on what being drunk is like I've just had these headcanons stuck in my head for a while now man)

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

A Trapped God's Woes

-----

The sound of a non-existent clock rang through her ears with every single second that ticked by. She didn’t even know why she bothered to count the seconds, yet every single one seemed to feel like a stake being pierced into her heart, deeper and deeper; a cold metal spike that impaled her very soul, if she even had one to begin with. Souls are a human concept, after all. Seconds so small stacked up so quickly, it seemed, and she was beginning to wonder if keeping track was even worth the effort. 94 million seconds, she reckoned, have passed her by. 94 million seconds of entanglement.

Her cold hands clasped behind her back as each step she made caused the rotten floorboards below her to creak. The sight of peeling wallpaper around her was all too familiar to her, yet the sight of the outside world was beginning to feel like a distant memory. No, she thought, I will see the light again; a promise she made to herself every day despite her foggy mind being incapable of making that assurance. 

The sound of droning machinery on the other side of the walls felt like discordant singing, the notes meshing together into a conglomerate of sounds and feelings that made Her wish to tear her ears off to prevent herself from hearing it; Taunting melodies telling the story of how a god in human clothing let herself fall into a trap even a rabbit wouldn’t be fooled by, and for what? For the chance to fix her own failings? To set a sequence of events in motion to lead to an end goal decided from the very beginning? Or perhaps she was simply desperate for any way to regain control of something incapable of being controlled. No matter the reason, she had made the wrong choice, and now she suffered the consequences.

Despite how she loathed them, she began to wonder if the groans and creaks of the machinery outside the window in her room were a better alternative than the pure, unbearable silence she now dealt with within her subconscious. A lonely mind that was once constantly bombarded by new information, being spoken to by voices unknown for guidance. Those voices made her feel ill even remembering them; the voices of her previous captors that disguised themselves as her employers. Were the Combine truly a better fate than being a slave to a mightier power? She wondered such, though the entrapment of the Vault was beginning to take its toll. 

How long could she stand remaining in her cell before she fully lost herself? Who was she to begin with? What did she love? What did she despise? What was her goal in her life? Answers for her questions never arrived, with the realization that she didn’t know being unfamiliar to her. She knew the answers to questions humanity has asked for generations, yet she cannot begin to comprehend what her true purpose was. Was she truly put in the universe to serve a greater power; To be shackled to other beings’ will? 

What was she?

She paused to look at the mirror on the wall, one she failed to notice until that very moment. Looking into her reflection, she was pulled out of her thoughts, leaving her to approach the cracked glass in front of her. Beholding her was a reflection of an old face, one she had picked so very long ago. Her eyes had a hollow pale-blue glow to them as she made eye-contact with herself, lightly brushing her own cheek with one of her hands. She wasn’t human, despite her facade, and she knew that fact well. She would never be human, no matter how she dressed or how her face looked; her eyes told that story for her. Her reflection made her sick in a way she had never felt before, and as she continued to stare at the mirror, her face contorted into a look of rage, all before the glass shattered and fell to the ground in front of her feet. She stormed away, leaving behind the shards of the mirror. 

She never realized that her first true experience with fear would have been imprisonment.

[grayintogreen]

Okay I've never done this for LitMoR because there's three times as many OCs and I always feel weird talking about "voice claims"" in a fandom that doesn't... do that. Or really have a huge OC culture in general, but since Hellaverse does and I HAVE seen people going "if my OC was real, they would be played by x" before, I wanted to provide the list and some references so you can hear them as I hear them.

This list is painfully biblically accurate to the casting pool Vivzie uses (either Broadway actors or voice actors who have done musicals), barring a couple exceptions. It also contains the Canon OC's, because lbr my interpretations of Eve, Crymini, Lilith, Baxter, and Arackniss are not going to be canon and I'm okay with that. Roseverse is an AU.

ANYWAY. BENEATH THE CUT ARE A BUNCH OF YOUTUBE CLIPS + long-winded explanations. ENJOY. I’ll have to do another one because there’s a ten video limit and I had more characters to cover plus there’s characters who haven’t been introduced yet.

EDEN ESPIONSA AS EVE

Listen I will fully admit this decision was spurred on by "Nothing Left to Lose" but Eden Espinosa is hella good at playing resentful second fiddle bad girlies, given her entire career feels like it comes down to "Idina Menzel but affordable" (don't listen baby girl you're amazing).

ELIZABETH MITCHELL AS LILITH (SINGING VOICE: LADY GAGA)

I've gone over this one before, but I stand by it. I know Vivzie's hc voice for Lilith for real is Lady Gaga, but it wasn't vibing with how I've been writing her, so Lady Gaga plays her when she's singing (specifically the very raw, less sylized way she sings ASiB) and Liz plays her every other time. Watch that Blonde4Blonde love scene and tell me that isn't Lucillith reunion coded.

CHRISTOPHER FITZGERALD AS BAXTER

Now if Baxter appears in canon as more than a cameo, I would want him to be played by an actual trans actor because WE CANNOT IGNORE THE FACT THAT ONLY FEMALE ANGLERFISH HAVE LURES (and Viv denotes trans characters in imps by their horns so we know she's done this kind of thing to cue the audience in), but since this is just for fun and for me to have something to refer back to when I'm writing for vocal consistency, I gotta go with this nerd.

Note: I did NOT realize he played Kimiko Glenn's love interest in Waitress until I was looking up a video.

BARRETT WILBERT WEED AS CRYMINI

This one is actually at least marginally possible because BWW already voices Octavia. Part of the reason why she and Stolas have that cute little moment in Chapter Five of OWDLIF is because she shares a VA with his daughter and it was a dumb little moment for me, personally. (The clip in there with the live version of Dead Girl Walking where she sounds a little drunk and she's reading the lyrics off her phone is the exact energy for Crymini.)

Also “Fight For Me” from the Heathers musical is the Crinomini theme.

BRENNAN LEE MULLIGAN AS ARACKNISS

Here's one of our exceptions! This came out of nowhere because at first I was using Jeremy Jordan in Newsies as the basis for his voice, but it VERY QUICKLY- like while writing the first chapter- morphed into Sean, so that's what I'm stuck with. Also I'm sorry it's so long, but trust me it's worth it. Brennan is an improv god.

LIN-MANUEL MIRANDA AS CHANCE

YEAH YEAH I KNOW. YOU LOVE CHANCE ANYWAY. I will say that Roseverse Chance is specifically closer to In the Heights!LMM, whereas LitMoR Chance is very specifically Lee Scoresby. Ergo In the Heights.

ERIKA ISHII AS DIANA

The third exception. Though Erika has been doing voice work and has been in a musical game, even if they didn't sing in it, so who knows.

Also this video clip is so Dianacore. The whole thing.

KHARY PEYTON AS AAMON

This is like the main reason I posted this, because I need everyone to be aware of just how hot Aamon sounds despite him being a giant toolbox.

REBECCA FERGUSON AS ROO

Listen. LISTEN. She can sing. She's got a sexy voice. She's NOT LIKELY TO EVER BE CAST, but Rose the Hat is like 85% of my entire aesthetic for her. Her secondary aesthetic is Kate Shindle as the Mad Hatter in the Wonderland musical who is slightly more castable.

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Miguel x Inca-Spider Moche Headcanons (Canon x OC)

One thing Miguel and Moche LOVE is Dancing

It's started out as simple practice - really, it was a joke.

Moche and Miguel love hanging in his office, up on his high ass platform where they can ignore all the responsibilities, and pretend to get some work done.

Ever since Moche had first joined, and the three of them - Miguel, her, and Lyla would be up there, sorting through files, reviewing mission footage, and listening to music.

Moche is always the one who has to handle breaks. If she doesn't - Miguel just .... won't take them. The type to not notice he's exhausted beyond belief until his head is hitting the pillow.

Sometimes, it's a struggle. Until one day, Moche gets him to dance.

Moche's favorite genre is Runarae - a genre specific to her universe - a blend of reggae and indigenous languages (think reggaeton if the Spanish never colonized).

Full of flutes and drum line and percussion, ever since she was a child - everytime she heard it, she wanted to dance.

So one day she grabs Miguel's hands and does just that.

He humors her, watching as Moche takes his hand and twirls herself, pulling him to his feet. She even manages she gets a couple steps out of him. A little shuffle they fall into.

Thank God both of them have rhythm.

Moche has spent her whole life dancing, and singing, playing music on the sidelines of the ceremonies in her village. Singing Quechua incantations, dancing her traditional dance.

She still wears the traditional dress whenever she can (which is often), and Miguel smiles so hard it hurts when she grabs her skirts, lifting her petticoat to dance Folklorico

Lyla is like 'Is that my alarm system going off or wedding bells I hear~'

And suddenly they're just, dancing.

Mind you - there's a TWO FOOT height difference. Like her head reaches his solar plexus. His shoulder IF she's wearing the highest heels she can find. He can't even kiss the top of her head and it's not even close.

But here she is, twirling in his arms and laughing as he lifts her up and dips her, Moche giggling so hard almost hurts

And soon they're doing that EVERY chance they get. Miguel comes back from a tiring mission, or whatever crazy thing the other Spider-people got themselves into on campus.

He walks into his office groaning and rubbing his brow. And immediately Moche is like

'Olé? I cannot dance alone, Apu.'

[Apu means 'mountain/mountain spirit' in Quechua. She calls him Apu because the people of her village gave him the name 'AncuApu' (Blue Mountain) due to his height and suit]

It's their little secret, an inside joke, they keep for who knows how long.

Until Jess portals in.

One day Jess skips the whole 'upsidedown elevator lobby thing' and just rides into his office, only to find Miguel holding Moche in a dip as they listen to Shakira.

Of course Jess is like

IN TEARS AND SHOCK TRYING NOT TO BUST OUT IN LAUGHTER CAUSE SHE WALKED IN ON MOCHI AND MIGUEL GETTING IT LIKE

The two are ready to die from embarrassment - until Jess goes 'Y'all two are so cute, I need to get myself whatever lessons you got.'

Lessons. Before, they had never even considered lessons, let alone dancing outside of his huge lair. But as soon as the idea is there THEY HAVE TO DO IT.

Datenight becomes dance classes and dinner. They're AMAZING at it - Salsa, Ballroom, Flamenco, Rumba, Folklorico - both Mexican and Peruvian

THEY LOVE IT. Plus with Mochi being the size she is - and the fact she's been bitten, it's really easy for them to do the more flashy moves - like flips and spins

It's just THEIR THING.

Even in their calm moments.

When there's no music, or the day has been too long, they'll still stand there in her garden, or their bedroom and just slow dance and talk.

They're both A-spec - and to them dancing is like their favorite form of intimacy, besides maybe bathing together, or him braiding her hair

Only a good handful of people know they do it - Jess first. Then Peter, and now Peter, MJ, Moche, and Miguel have taken double dates and dancing classes together. (Peter and MJ have no idea how they're SO GOOD at it, they make it look so easy. But Peter has two left feet)

Hobie knows (walked in on them) and teases Miguel for it. But Miguel always says 'At least I can dance.'

Hobie be like 🤨😐 you saying I can't dance m8???

(he can't)

People say 'Moche and Miguel are doing it in his office again.'

They don't mean sex. They mean they're in there with Spanish and Runagae blasting as they dance around his platform clapping at each other and yelling 'WEPA!!!' at the top of their lungs.

Cemiche my beloveds

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

White blossoms - Chapter 1

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

A/N: It took me nearly seven months to write this fic, and I am beyond excited to finally be sharing it! (And a little nervous...) Just a story of two people falling in love when that wasn't necessarily an option... This is written from both their POV's, and I'll try very hard to not F up on the dividers between those two, okay? ❤️

If you like this fic, please remember to reblog so that others may also see it!

Pairing: Melot x OFC (Tamsyn)

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: None. They kiss. Fluff. Shenanigans. Historical inaccuracies, probably.

@deandoesthingstome @keanureevesisbae @fvckinghenrycavill @ellethespaceunicorn @peaches1958 @peyton-warren @summersong69 @mayloma @livisss @geralts-yenn @sillyrabbit81

“Quiet, I hear something.” Your boisterous laughter quieted down to whispers and muffled snickering. You were about to tell your friend off for making a fuss about nothing when you heard it too: laughter and singing. 

“Let’s go see who it is,” the same friend suggested to the rest of your party. 

“Aedan, perhaps we shouldn’t.” It was one complaint among several more curious reactions.

“You are welcome to return home, if you are so terrified.” Never tell a young man he is afraid if you are not prepared to take a punch to the gut, or so Aedan found out. 

Your small group set foot in the direction of the sounds - they appeared to come from near the stream. It was not long before you saw them; local girls, sitting by the edge of the water. The singing had stopped, and they had turned to talking to Elowen - whom you all knew to have been married only a few nights ago. 

“What was it like?” The question was followed by a lot of giggling, while Elowen slowly turned red in the neck.

“Did it hurt?” Another of the girls asked her. “He was your first, was he not?” 

You looked over your right shoulder to Tristan, who stared back at you. His face mirrored the disbelief displayed on yours. Were they really discussing her wedding night? 

“Was it enjoyable?” You snapped your head back to the ladies so quickly you feared you might break it. That voice would stand out to you anywhere. 

“Was that Tamsyn, Melot?” Aedan whispered softly. He looked as surprised as Tristan had moments ago. You felt your own ears grow warm and thanked God that your hair hid them from sight. An impatient nudge to the elbow reminded you of the question, which you answered through a simple nod. 

“I have not quite decided what I think of it.” None of you dared believe that Elowen would actually answer these questions. Your eyes widened even further as she continued: “I think it could be?” 

“I have no interest in hearing this,” Pyran hissed before he retreated, taking Lowen with him. It was just you, Tristan, and Aedan now, and while you all considered leaving, none of you seemed able to lift your legs. So, you kept listening, and as the conversation drew to a close, the three of you saw red in the face from embarrassment at how freely they had discussed the topic. 

“These conversations cannot be fit for ladies,” Aedan whispered. You worried that his eyes might fall out of their sockets if they opened any wider - the same applied to yourself, too. 

“These conversations are unfit for us, friend,” Tristan laughed softly. The girls began to gather their things, signalling they were about to leave. 

“But we have them, regardless,” you weighed in on the conversation. Both of your friends chuckled at your words. It was the simplest truth: you spoke of it often, in fact, and in terms that were a great deal more crude than what you had heard today. As more and more of the men your age took wives, these talks only became more frequent. But to hear the women speak of it - it felt like an entirely different matter. And those questions from shy, delicate Tamsyn - your Tamsyn, though she had only allowed you a few swift kisses - they tormented you. She had seemed so curious about the whole ordeal, but so innocent at the same time. The ladies began walking back towards the village, and you took it as your cue to leave; they would see you if you all stayed where you were. 

“Melot, hurry up,” Tristan told you, but you could not move. The fabric of your trousers had caught on a branch and tearing it free would certainly make noise. You beckoned your friends to leave ahead of you. On your own you would be fine, hiding from sight until the girls had passed you.

“Go ahead,” you said to your friends, “I think I heard something.” Elowen and Morwenna shrugged and kept walking, Beryan held still until you motioned at her to go. Carefully, you walked off the path, into the woods, towards the sound you believed to have heard. There, behind a tree, not paying any attention to his surroundings as he was busy freeing the leg of his trousers from a fallen branch, was Melot.

“Do you not carry a knife, Melot?” You asked. He was utterly startled by the sudden revelation of your presence but composed himself quickly. 

“I do,” he chuckled softly, “and I am positive my mother will gladly cut me with it if I tear these beyond her ability to mend them, so I had better not use it.”

“Oh, move,” you dropped to one knee and slapped his hands out of your way. They were warm, and your heart skipped a beat when you touched them. He pulled his away remarkably quickly, which struck you as strange. Had he not spent months courting you? His smile melted your doubts: Melot could smile in a way that made you feel like the only woman in the whole world. You felt your blood creep up to your cheeks, and prayed to God, he would not see it. With a few swift tugs, you pulled the fabric away from the branch. 

“Thank you, Tamsyn,” he said as he got up. Once back on his feet, he offered you his hand so he could help you, and you gladly took it. Somehow, it felt even warmer than before. Upon standing up, you lost your footing on the uneven surface and tumbled into him. His arms wrapped quickly and effortlessly around your waist and pulled you against his broad chest. You felt small in his embrace - and incredibly safe, especially when you rested your hands on his arms, and felt the muscles in them tighten underneath his clothes. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, concern speaking from his voice. As you nodded and whispered a barely audible ‘yes’, you felt your cheeks burn even more than they had before. When you looked up, his face was closer to yours than you had expected, and you were overcome with the sudden desire to kiss him. Slowly, you moved one of your hands to his cheek and looked up at him only to find him smiling down at you. There it was again, that feeling that you were the only one to him. Oh, how good it felt to have him look at you in that way. A warm hand covered yours, while the other held you closer to him. It was a chaste kiss you shared, like the ones before. You would have allowed him more, but he had never pressed the matter, and you felt uncomfortable offering it, for fear of what he would think of you. And so once more you pressed your lips to his, lingering a bit longer, in hopes he would attempt to deepen it, but he did not. When you moved away, however, he held you close against him. There was a troubled look in his eyes that fills you with concern. 

“What’s the matter, Melot?” you asked him curiously. 

“I- It's nothing.” Of course you could not believe him; something was bothering him, that much was obvious. You deliberated for a moment whether further inquiry would be considered improper, but soon decided to set your sorrows aside. 

“Melot, I can tell you are lying,” you said with an edge of amusement to your voice. 

“I overheard your conversation,” he admitted as his cheeks slowly started to colour with shame, “I have a question about it. But not here.” You let him lead the way along the stream, until you reached a beautiful waterfall you had not seen before. Your surprise must have been evident from the look on your face, because Melot chuckled as he wrapped his arms around you. 

“No one comes here, it's too far upstream to be sensible for daily chores,” he said as he pressed his lips against your forehead. 

“What did you want to ask me?” You said as you sat yourself down on a rock near the edge of the river. Melot sat next to you. He was nervous to ask his question, you could tell from the way his leg moved constantly. 

“Why did Beryan ask if… it hurt?” He looked away from her, not daring to meet her eyes. These conversations were hardly proper between husband and wife, let alone two young, unwed lovers such as yourselves. You sat for a moment flushed and vexed at what he had asked. The answer to his question was simple, but should you give it to him? It was clear the men were not made aware of these things, perhaps there was a reason for that? Yet his voice was drenched with genuine curiosity, and because of that, you did not want to deny him an answer. 

“Because it most often does, or so our mothers tell us,” you said softly, “no one tells you this?”

Melot shook his head. “Not once.” He looked down at his hands. “Do you think it has to?” 

“Be painful, you mean?” To this, he nodded in reply. You shrugged, unable to answer his question. It was what you had been told, and so had your friends. A few had even been able to confirm the tales, so far. For whatever reason, you made Melot privy to these thoughts. 

“It seems unfair to me,” he said after a while, to which you raised an eyebrow inquisitively. “That you have to be uncomfortable, and we do not.” When he said it, you laughed at how delightfully ignorant his statement was. Clearly no one made any effort to tell the boys of the monthly suffering you went through. Of course it was not a man’s business, and you were not going to let him in on it, either, but the incognizance was still striking. 

“Why do you laugh at that?” He smiled kindly at you. “I don’t want to hurt you, so -” He stopped his sentence halfway through and looked at you in terror, realising what he had said.

“I did not mean to imply… That is not why I brought you h-” You believed him, instantly, but he continued his apologies. “I simply meant, if some day we would… We’d be married, of course.” His words took you by surprise. 

“Are you asking me to be your wife?” You asked him so softly you suspected he might not even hear your query. He looked at you somewhat distraught.

“Not yet, I think,” he said, but it sounded more like a question than an answer, “but I have thought about it.”

“I am only a simple town girl, Melot,” you sighed, “you are nephew to the king.”

“Believe me, I am hardly his favourite,” Melot said with a smile. It was true, he was not the king’s most beloved relative, nor was he the one who had been appointed king Marke's successor. This had angered him at first, but he and Tristan had since made peace, and Melot had seen that it absolved him in part of the extreme scrutiny that came with the role, though he was still the king’s blood, meaning he had to behave. It was hard for him at times. “I have his blessing to court you.” He added his last sentence hesitantly. Somehow, it was very nice to have some confirmation, though you doubted even Melot would have been insolent enough to continue his quest for your affections if his uncle had not permitted it. It went without saying that your parents were extremely fond of the match. Still, you had never dared to dream that one day you might truly be his wife… 

He took one of your hands in his, carefully, as though it might break under his touch. His were a warrior's hands, calloused and rough, yet he always held you with care - in the fleeting moments you had where he could hold you, at least. This, you now both realised, was not one of those moments. That is to say: it was not fleeting, as the others had been. You were far away from everyone, no one would bother you here. 

You looked deeply into each other’s eyes, at first not realising one - or possibly both - of you was leaning forward, your faces slowly inching closer together until your lips touched. This kiss lasted longer - maybe it was not one kiss, but several, you did not know. Put quite bluntly, it was of marginal interest to you at best; the only things that mattered to you were Melot’s soft lips that pressed against yours, again, and again. When he moved away from you again, you looked into his eyes, stunned by their beautiful colour, but perhaps more by the look in them. It had taken you a while to allow yourself to be convinced that he was actually taken with you, and now each time you seemed to come to terms with that idea, he looked at you with yet more affection than he had ever before. You closed your eyes and leaned in to kiss him again, taking his face between your hands to pull him closer. He answered your kiss with a new degree of enthusiasm. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you took tenuous note of the quickening beating of your heart, and the unsteady rhythm of your breathing when you felt Melot’s lips part against yours. The wetness and warmth of his tongue startled you, but not so much that it made you in any way inclined to pull away. Your hands fell away from his cheeks, and you draped your arms around his neck. One of his hands you felt tenderly caressing your face, while the other held you at your middle with great care. He trembled ever so slightly, as though he was felled with nerves. But he couldn’t be! Your warrior, overcome with worries, and all at the touch of a woman? It was simply impossible! And yet you felt it; tremors in his hands, however subtle, as once again his tongue gently trailed your lips, requesting entrance. This time, you granted his wish by parting your lips. 

In no way were you prepared for the sensations that came over you as he explored your mouth with his tongue, and you his, though you felt that you were much more hesitant than he was. Copious conversations with your friends had prepared you a bit for what was to come, but the explanations were by no means extensive, which was hardly fortuitous, if you had to be perfectly honest about it. Your heart dropped when Melot retreated, and you sighed softly when he lifted his lips off yours. For a moment, he rested his forehead against yours, and you both basked in the afterglow of the moment you had shared. 

Suddenly you were overcome by sorrow. It was involuntary, but the feeling was simply too strong to ignore. 

“Did you enjoy that?” The question startled you, and you were torn between telling him the truth or telling him what you had been raised to answer. 

“I am afraid to admit it was quite enjoyable,” you answered plainly, “it's said we are not supposed to, is it not?”

“Plenty of things are said every day,” Melot answered, “that doesn't mean they hold any truth.”

[earlgreytea68]

As a certified FOB/Peterick scholar, I was hoping that I may please present to you a lyric-related question that's been bugging me for a bit: In "What A Catch, Donnie", do you think the Miss Flack in the line "Miss Flack said I still want you back" is Pete, or Patrick? I believe Pete has referred to Patrick as his Roberta, as in Roberta Flack, but if the song is supposed to be from Patrick's POV, it wouldn't make sense for Patrick to be referring to himself as Miss Flack in that context. I can't tell whether Pete chose to cast himself as Miss Flack in this instance, and he's the one cutting through Patrick's negative self-talk in the verses by telling him "I still want you back", or if the verses are Pete talking to Patrick, and Patrick is the one saying "I still want you back". It 's a devastating line either way, but I'd love to hear what you think!

WARNING: DISCUSSIONS OF SUICIDE BELOW. If you or someone you know is struggling with suicidal thoughts, please reach out.

~~~~~~~~

I have also often puzzled over "What a Catch, Donnie" because yes, they both say the song was Pete writing pretending to be Patrick, but I don't think it completely lines up.

First, the reference to Donnie in the title is clearly to Donny Hathaway. That would seem to be the Pete equivalent in the Donny Hathaway/Roberta Flack friendship, and that lines up with the idea that the song is supposed to be Patrick talking about himself. If "Donny" = "Pete," then the title of the song is effectively Patrick being like, "Look what a catch I am," self-deprecatingly (the way the line shows up in the rest of the song)?

But I've long thought that the song isn't really as straightforwardly about Patrick as they claim it is, because none of their lyrics are as straightforward as that. We know that Patrick picks and chooses lyrics from all over and that Pete doesn't sit and write a whole song from start to finish, and I really have no reason to believe that "What a Catch" went through a different process. So I have long thought that what they mean when they say Pete was writing from Patrick's POV is really the song's chorus and verses. That wry, self-deprecating chorus really does seem like it suits Patrick's thoughts about himself, in Pete's voice. But I think the bridge (which stands out in several ways) is from Pete.

So the chorus is Pete writing from what he supposes to be Patrick's POV. That fits that last line in the chorus: "All I can think of is the way I'm the one who charmed the one who gave up on you." If the "I" in the chorus is meant to be Patrick ("I've got troubled thoughts"), and we assume that's still true of the last line in the chorus, then Pete is the "you" there (c'mon, they're always singing to / writing about each other, they're always each other's "you"). And that makes perfect sense: The one who gave up on Pete ("you") is Pete ("I've already given up on myself twice"). And who's the person who charmed Pete? Patrick. Like, if this chorus is all about Patrick, then it's about how Patrick thinks he's no big deal but he cannot get over the fact that Pete keeps insisting he IS. And this is the truest encapsulation of their dynamic ever, this comes up again and again in their interviews. Pete keeps insisting Patrick is so great, and Patrick must sit and turn that over and over in his head endlessly in those times when he just Doesn't Get It.

But, even though this is a song written from Patrick's POV, I still think it's mostly about Pete. Which kind of makes sense in its own way, especially for this time period of their relationship, that the person Patrick is most preoccupied with is Pete. Patrick muses about captains going down with the ship, but that's a thought about Pete: Pete literally casts himself as the captain going down with the ship in the video. If Pete is the captain of their band, does he have to go down with the ship? Even the first verse is ambiguous enough to make it seem like it's Patrick talking about Pete. It doesn't say who said, "I'll be fine 'til the hospital or American embassy." Patrick swallows the pronoun. That feels like something Pete may conceivably say to Patrick, at least in some guise: I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine, don't worry.

So, as I noted at the beginning, I have always interpreted the dichotomy of the referenced relationship to be Patrick being equalled to Miss Flack. So when Patrick sings that Miss Flack still wants "you" back, I do think he is in effect referencing himself will talking about Miss Flack, and the line is meant to be sung from Patrick to Pete: Patrick still wants him, he always wants him, Roberta Flack was devastated by Donny's suicide and would presumably give everything to have him back. To me, that's exactly what Patrick is saying to Pete, couched in a layer of remove by claiming that it's "Miss Flack" saying it. And, since Pete wrote the line, since Pete established the analogy of Patrick and Roberta Flack, it is Pete recognizing that this is also how Patrick feels. Which I'm sure they discussed. To me, that line always feels like he put it in as a concrete reminder: people would miss you. Patrick would miss you.

And it connects so nicely with the overt promise of the bridge, which I think is definitely a shift to Pete being the "I": I will never do that to you. Keep a calendar so you will know. There's an acknowledgment that he came dangerously close ("I already am") but also an acknowledgment of the different outcome he had. They literally give the bridge to a different singer, as if signaling the pronoun change there (in a Broadway show, this would be the bit sung by the other calendar, acknowledging the love and affection being shown toward him). And we know Patrick keeps a detailed calendar, it's been referenced a few times in interviews, so that "keep a calendar" line seems tailor-made to be an exhortation from Pete to Patrick. (Plus, we know for a fact that the bridge either got reused OR was borrowed from another song, we don't know the order they were written, but that reprisal has always made that bit of "What a Catch" stand out just that little bit more as being just Different from the rest of the song).

All of which is to say, I think part of "What a Catch" is Pete writing from Patrick's POV (and, according to Patrick, getting it right), and that inevitably includes Pete recognizing not just Patrick's troubled thoughts and low self-esteem but how vitally important Patrick is to Pete and how much worry he causes in Patrick. And, of course, how much Pete wishes he didn't worry him so much. This is a song supposedly about Patrick's low self-esteem, but it's Pete who really reveals how little he thinks of himself as a friend, freaking everyone out by giving up on himself.

And I guess what this really means is that this song about Patrick is really a song about Patrick and Pete. Because of course it is.

[7-dreamers]

28 May 2023, "Cannot exist without Dreamcatcher" Sua, Passion that everyone acknowledges ③

Sua has made choreography starting from special clips to Dreamcatcher group songs. Choreography for the B-side ‘DEMIAN��� from Dreamcatcher’s recent album ‘Apocalypse : From us’ is coming soon.

“I’ve done a lot of choreography, but teaching a dance for such a powerful song will be a first for me. It was a competitor for the title track, and fans seem to like it a lot. I felt pressure starting on the song. I think I’m more confined because I want to show how good I am.”

While Sua worries about making a performance they also need to sing live to, she boasts about their teamwork, saying she’s not worried about their chemistry. So then what are the strengths of the members that Sua is the closest to?

“Jiu knows herself the best. She’s very objective, so she always asks. If she doesn’t know something she says she doesn’t know and asks about it earnestly, so I can feel that she’s someone who is very open to learning. Also she always tries to dance cleanly. We’re a team that tries to dance cleanly and by the book, so she’s someone this team really needs.”

“Siyeon has her own personality. Rather than that personality making her stand out in the choreography, she has her own special vibe. I really felt it during ‘Red Sun’. ‘She can pull that part off this way too.’ I feel like I’m learning something every time just from Siyeon herself.”

“Handong’s lines and form are all elegant and sophisticated. Because of that she definitely suits calm songs very well. Her hand movement is pretty, meaning she’s very delicate. As if her personality also comes out of her body, she’s normally affectionate and delicate. Her dance line is soft like running water.”

“Yoohyeon is the most hard-working person I’ve seen. Her goals and standards for herself are very high. She knows what moves she struggles with, so there’s never a time she doesn’t ask. She’s constantly deliberating, so it’s nice to see. I really respect that side of her.”

“Dami is like Siyeon and has her own personality. She has an enviable body type with long limbs, but usually that makes it hard to dance. However she uses it well and creates really great gestures. It’s cool how they fit the song and suit her as well. She’s a member that knows how to bring out her coolness the most.”

“Gahyeon also deliberates a lot when it comes to dance. She and Yoohyeon always work hard and practice, I always want to teach her something more. She has really big eyes. I can feel her desire to learn in those big eyes. Modifying the choreography is something you probably don’t like hearing. But even then, she doesn’t show it and I can see that she tries hard to learn anew, to capture it well.”

On the other hand, we asked the members ‘What kind of artist is Sua’.

“Sua is an artist with a lot of passion and talent. She makes her own choreography, can write lyrics and compose songs, does well on variety shows, and is a walking ‘well-rounded entertainer’. The fact that she knows what she’s good at and uses it well is very professional. Meanwhile she takes good care of the members like a mom, showing a side of her overflowing with humanity.” (Jiu)

“To me, Sua is someone I always have fun with and communicate easily with whenever I’m with her. Because she’s a person of many talents, she knows how to do a lot of things. She’s someone you can rely on both mentally and ability-wise. A bubbly, cheerful, and cute person that our team cannot live without! Sua is that kind of person.” (Siyeon)

“She is someone who has more energy than anyone else and always brings joy to the people around her. As our team’s main dancer, not only does she dance well, but she also choreographs well, sings really well, and is a very reliable person you can learn a lot from.” (Handong)

“Sua is an artist with her own color. She is the type to always express what she wants and is assertive, so that allows her to show her colors better.” (Yoohyeon)

“Sua is an artist who has a lot of desire to grow. She knows what she wants to do and never stops improving. She’s not afraid to admit when she doesn’t know something and always asks, fearlessly challenges herself, and ends up making it her own. She knows a lot and even knows how to express it all. I’m excited to see what wider fields she will work in in the future.” (Dami)

“Sua is an artist who has overwhelming passion, confidence, and love for what she does. She works hard in everything she does and doesn’t hesitate to challenge herself in new things. Of course she also has the ability to make that new challenge her own. In that sense, she’s able to love her work even more.” (Gahyeon)

Finally, 10th-year girl group member Sua told us about her positive goal to become ‘a person who is not stopped by any wall and keeps going’.

“I’m a person who really loves this job. There are a lot of people who come to hate something they like doing when it becomes their job, and there are times you feel low self-esteem and think ‘what am I doing this for’. But I think only this job can make me happy. I couldn’t be happier that it has become my career.

My career is one that I need to personally keep doing things in order for it to keep going. So I want to become someone who doesn’t give in to anything and keeps going, someone who can be motivation to others and myself.

I hope my busy life right now never ends. Fans will be able to see me more often only if I keep doing things, so I wish for it to be forever.”

Source : Xports News

[Reporter Lee Seul]

Translation by 7-Dreamers irshu Please do not take translation without credit

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

Hi hi! Can I get a matchup please? Thanks in advance dear, you are a blessing.

Anyways I have a pref for a male, my best traits are my kindness and compassion, my worst are I can be a little closed off, rather sarcastic and a huge people pleaser. My hobbies are drawing, singing and hiking. I like art, have a morbid sense of humor and can be a bit of a klutz.

Again thank you love!

A/N: Hmmm, okay, I got it! For you @elonianmisfit , I’m thinking your best BG3 matchup would be… Wyll!

🗡 Wyll would be a perfect fit for you! He’s selfless and values compassion in his companions. It’s a trait that’s shaped most of his life after all. His desire to do the right thing, to save the people of Baldur’s Gate is what got him into his contract with Mizora in the first place. 

Of course, this act of self-sacrifice has left him pretty closed off to everyone. But as you said, you can be rather closed off yourself, so you understand his hesitation to share isn’t because he doesn't like you, but because he can be overwhelmed by such affection for him. And he understands that when you back away, it’s not a sign that you aren’t interested in your relationship. You understand each other’s motivations around the subject, so neither of your feelings gets hurt. 

Wyll doesn’t mind the sarcasm. He quite enjoys it, in fact. At one point during the game, as the companions are traveling, he asks Astarion how the “rat diet is going”? It’s a pretty dark sarcastic joke to hear coming from Wyll’s mouth, but then again, he doesn’t know the context of Astarion’s backstory and was merely trying to jest about the former Blade of Frontiers currently befriending a vampire spawn. Of course, if either one of your sarcastic comments or morbid jokes crosses the line, you’ll respectfully let the other know. But for the most part, your companions seem to enjoy your occasional barbs and macabre jests. Gods know it’s hard being sweet and kind 24/7, especially when you spend your time adventuring and fighting monsters. 

And speaking of people-pleasing, oh boy. Wyll has a similar problem. Yes, he made the deal with Mizora for the betterment of Baldur’s Gate, but he also did it with pleasing his father in mind. He cares deeply about the way people view him, which is another reason why he is so hurt by Mizora giving him horns. He just wants to do right by the good people of Baldur’s Gate, by his father, and of course by you. It helps him greatly, knowing that you’ll always care for him, no matter what he looks like, even if he cannot save everyone. He tries his best. He’s an honorable man, and that’s what matters most to you. 

Wyll adores the art you create. He keeps every piece, every drawing, every little doodle tucked away safely- that’s how much it means to him. His tent at camp is starting to overflow with all the beautiful things you create. He loves how creative you are, and how you can create beauty from nothing. In his life, it’s a wonderful reminder that good things are around, they’re just waiting for us to stop and appreciate them. And please, please sing for him! He loves hearing your voice- even if you’re shy about it, that’s okay! He’ll take the two of you to a secluded spot where you can sing for him, and he can come up with a dance based on the beautiful rhythm of your song. He might even ask you to dance with him. And don’t worry about being a klutz. If you can’t dance, he’ll simply have you stand on top of his feet as he slowly steps and sways around your campfire. 

He’s so happy to have you in his life. You’re wonderful, creative, and so beautiful. You’re the light of his life. He will do everything within his power to sever his contract with Mizora so that he can live out his perfect future with you. You are his dream. He can’t wait for his fairytale happily ever after with you. 

⋯ ⋯ ⋯

I hope you like it!

⋯ ⋯ ⋯ As Always, Please Like & Reblog!

[carnalapples]

How about "Own, Growls, Hymn" for DADWC? :3

Happy Friday!! For you and @demarogue for @dadrunkwriting, I have some (faint) Morrigan/Amell:

“What do you require of me?” Morrigan stands to her full height and Amell thinks, briefly, that this was a mistake. 

"I wanted to ask you a question."

“Speak it.”

Somewhere behind them, he hears the low growls of what he thinks are wolves but is too skittish to ask, and he can’t stop his eyes from flicking toward the noise. Something plays across Morrigan’s face then, her lips curving up in a wry smile.

“There is nothing you can do about them,” she says.

“I’m just not used to it.” Like he is not used to armor instead of robes, or to the open air and the itchy grass, or the way he is addressed as Warden above all else.

“Still?”

“I was in the tower for eighteen years, and out here for just these months. You’re clever enough to do the math.”

“And I thought you were a quick learner.”

“Did you?” Her eyes narrow at that, at the earnestness he fails to cut out of his voice.

“You cannot tell me you miss that place,” she rejoins, as if it is a fact that he cannot refute. Does he miss it? He does not know.

He knows that each night, he lies in his bedroll and he tries not to dream. Sometimes he will turn over well-worn sections of the Chant in his mind, as if he can ward off a demon with words alone, with the pretense of holiness that he has always been denied. Worse than dreaming, really, is the fantasy. Sometimes he will wonder what it would be like if he had been allowed to stay, but mostly he wonders what his life would be like if he never had magic at all, if he didn’t have to live with the curse of it. 

He thinks maybe he would be okay, giving it up. But then he cranes his neck to the side, and down by the fire lies Morrigan, who has never seen her magic as a shameful thing.

“You do not miss your own home at all?”

“It is not my place to miss it. Flemeth told me I must go, and now I am here.” She adjusts her robes tighter around her. “I do not believe your prison can be called a home.”

“It was my home,” he says. “Are you cold?”

“What?” She blinks at him briefly before pulling her thoughts back together, the barest hint of a frown on her mouth. “I am fine.”

“Take my cloak," he offers quickly, too quickly.

"I do not need your cloak."

"Consider it a solution to a problem, then."

"And if there is no problem at all?"

"Consider it a gift." He's already unbuttoned it, the fabric hanging limply around his shoulders.

“You are sentimental.” The way she says it does not sound like a compliment. 

“Is there a problem with that?”

“Sentiment is a weakness. Although not as much as love.” At his silence, she cocks her head. “A Warden like you still believes in love?”

“I would whether I were a Warden or not.”

“They fed you many stories in your Circle, then.” Another one of her pronouncements, and even when he disagrees, which is often, he finds himself coming back here like a stray dog, to the fire that makes him sweat in his armor and her sharp tongue which does nothing to help.

“They fed us well,” he agrees. “Though stories do not do much for the stomach.”

And then she laughs, and he is reminded why he comes back. When Morrigan laughs… it’s like the hymns the sisters would sing in the Circle chapel.

He’d work nights in the chapel because it was slightly better than in the kitchens. One gave you extra food, and the other let you sit down. He’d light the candles, organize the books, and let the sisters’ and the templars’ hushed murmurs wash over him. And Amell had always carried it inside of him, the knowledge that the prayers were really meant for others. They could carry the prayer and the lightness of being, and he would carry the power, the magic, the sin that was his to bear.

But the song belonged to anyone that could hear it. It was not the peaceful melody of Transfigurations that brought him peace, but Threnodies, the harsh slant of the words on his ears. There was a beauty in there, a raw truth. 

Sometimes Cullen would be in there, too, and even now the thought of him stirs something fond before he remembers. He only ever lets himself think of one image now: the candlelight would catch on his face, on his eyelashes, pale golden as he looked over at him. And sometimes he would smile back, and Cullen would flush just a little before he turned back to his prayer, and Amell never knew if he was imagining the smile on his face or not.

Morrigan’s lashes are dark by firelight, dark shadows deepening her face. Cutting her sharper, more severe. She slips the cloak off his shoulders, his skin prickling as her hands brush it. "You had a question, I believe.”

He always walks away from talks like these feeling like it’s his fault, somehow. For believing in things he shouldn't, for not being bold enough. He is tempted to tell her about it, but he cannot figure out how to articulate it. That her laugh is like a hymn is too trite for such a clever girl as her, and she has likely never heard Threnodies and it would all be different through her ears.

"I think I have my answer," he says softly, and at that, she raises her brows, just a bit. Imperceptible if he weren't looking. And for him, raised on fleeting touches and the reading of meaning where there is none, it is enough.