#also my real life (future) husband has been demanding attention? how rude?????

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

New Fighter chapter will be out today, I promise! I've been slacking because the week started off really crappy, and yesterday I just didn't get to it and now we're suddenly rearranging our bed room???? 😭

[niuniente]

I have to write this dream down so I can return to it - and perhaps it helps someone out there understanding how divine sends messages.

In the dream I was standing on a train platform near my home. In real life, there are two tracks only; to home and away from home. I was standing on the platform where the train takes me home. I entered the train but to my shock, it started to run away from my home.

I decided it’s the easiest to jump out at next station and head back to the previous station. The next station was called Siipo and while such district doesn’t exist I found out it’s word in Finnish and Russia (Сийпо) but I found no meaning to it. Closest one is Siippa which is a word for a husband or a fiance (of man) [and also a class name for Vespertilionidae bats]

I got out from the train and Siipo area felt very unknown, which shouldn’t be the case as I have, in real life, taken a trip to that direction many times. I noticed a train was leaving the platform to my home’s direction, so I rushed in and squeezed myself through the closing doors.

However, to my horror, that train made U-turn and headed away from my home to a completely unknown area of the city. I cursed that I didn’t check the trains name: it was 280B. The next station was Viikki Library (Viikki district exists, in a completely different direction, but there’s no gigantic library).

I’m like “Well, I have meant to visit the library and see how it is. I’ll go there now when the train is heading there, eat something if they have a cafe and then go to central and take a train home from there.”

The trip to Viikki Library station takes so long and I remember slipping inside the train on my back at one point, but no one helped me nor paid any attention to me.

I got out at the Viikki Library station and realize that I don’t know where I am. I take out a map and stop one person to ask help. Turns out I’m in Sakura park area and that there’s a grocery store I used to visit at night times years ago. So, I’m not THAT badly lost anymore! I’m just on a “wrong side” of a familiar area. 

I find the library and outside of it, next to its entrance, is a lovely cafe. I decide to buy salad and the woman at the counter has a nerve to tell me what kind of a salad I need to make myself! She’s giving me sighs and “are you REALLY taking THAT many beans???”-mumbles. How rude! I get my salad and a drink but she takes them away from my hands and places them on a table, where a man in a yellow shirt sits. I don’t even get to choose my own table!!

Lucky for me, it turns out that the man is nice and we come along immediately. Then I realize that I was guided here and I was meant to come to sit on this table across that man. When I realize that, I wake up.

After the dream I went through old readings I had done for myself. I had one reading from January for my insomnia problems. The reading said that I don’t get to choose where I’m going now. I just have to trust and let the universe to take me wherever it’s taking me. It’s like I’m trapped in an airplane with no idea of the destination or how long the flight takes, and no matter what I’d do, the captain can’t fly the plane any faster, nor I get to exist the place. Last summer I had a dream were a psychic said to me “You don’t get to jump into the future no matter how much you’d want that. You don’t get to push the river.”

I clearly have issues with trusting that the universe is really taking me forward. My life has been stagnant for years, I have not achieved my goals (last one really was when I moved to capitol area 10 years ago) and I have absolutely NO CLUE where I’m being taken. It’s really demanding to keep going forward years and years and years with nothing happening, while I watch other people reaching their goals, advancing in life and getting rewards for their work, sometimes even less work as the bullshit I have needed to go through.

SIGH. Spiritual path is so demanding and difficult at times. I wish I had a clue where I’m heading. Now I just hang in the darkness. (You THINK that when one knows how to do oracle readings and speak with the spirit that it would be helpful and there’d be no issues but LOL IT’S NOT THAT THAT’S BULLSHIT YOU HAVE ISSUES LIKE OTHERS AND NO IDEA WHAT TO DO OR WHAT’S GOING ON)

[chwrpg]

Murray, I have asked you repeatedly not to call me "woman".

A NOTE FROM ADMIN R: Oh, oh, oh ! Y’all don’t know how happy I am to be accepting this application. Dylan is truly one of my CHW faves and to have her taken up by you, Cailin... that’s just an honor. I can not wait to see what you do with her, but I know one thing... this dash ain’t ready fro the looks Dylan is about to serve us. Thank you so much for applying and welcome back, love !

OOC NAME/ALIAS, PREFERRED PRONOUNS, AGE & TIMEZONE:

cailin, (she/her), 25, est

DESIRED CHARACTER:

queen mother, dylan davenport

HOW ACTIVE WILL YOU BE?

8-10

SECONDARY CHOICE:

taylor flick

DESCRIBE THE CHARACTER:

Dylan is shrouded in beauty, bold fashion choices, witty comebacks, and her daddy’s debit card. But the woman wearing the Amina Muaddi heels to 7/11 is much more interesting than her out of this world clothes. If Chanel’s head is in the clouds, Dylan’s feet are planted on the ground. She’s the fuel to the fire, the one who gets shit done. Things don’t move without her — and that includes the fashion scene in Rosewood. Dylan could’ve been a surgeon, she has the brains and attention to detail for it, but, you see, what Dylan says or doesn’t say goes. She predicted high waist jeans making a comeback before Vogue did, telling the girls one day during first period. So she’s a bit of a culture oracle. It’s why people care about what she’s thinking, who she’s endorsing, what designers she’s buying. They even want to know what she’s watching on a monday night. Her confidence and sincerity is inspiring. When she’s not taste making though, she’s the loyalest, most straightforward friend you can find in her tax bracket. Balancing the thin line between being no-nonsense and fun to be around. She does it well, though. In fact, she does most things well (driving not included.)‌ Her peers boast about her style and charisma, her professors brag about her work ethic and creativity, her boyfriend….well, her love life is a tumultuous roller coaster but every icon needs a fixer upper. Plus she gets diamonds every time he fumbles.

SAMPLE WRITING:

( Alexa, play Daddy )

The day Dylan was born she became a daddy’s girl. Stevie Wonder could see it. Dada was her first word much to her mother’s chagrin. He never raised his voice at her, never got impatient with her when she spilled her juice or threw her food. He got up in the middle of the night so his wife wouldn’t have to even though he had meetings at 7 in the morning. It didn’t stop there, though. Mr. Davenport didn’t put her down at parties. He carried her around on his hip as he mingled and held court, demanding on no one use baby talk for his brilliant baby girl. “She’s smart like her mom.” He would say to his captivated audience. For her third birthday he rented out an entire amusement park. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t yet tall enough to ride the rides, she had asked for it so he made it happen. He was a doer and a fixer, but he wasn’t perfect. Mr. Davenport had always been a better father and provider than a husband.

So, when she was five, her parents went through a nasty divorce. The papers their lawyers drew up cited irreconcilable differences but she’d come to realize, many years later, that was just how rich people skirted around the truth in hopes of keeping people out of their business. In truth, Mr. Davenport had spent the better part of his career sleeping with secretaries, temps, and clients. Basically anything that was of age and not nailed down. Mrs. Davenport had only grown tired of it after watching Halle Berry cry over Eric Benet  on Oprah. But like she’d taught  Dylan, Mrs. Davenport thought three steps ahead, and had arranged to have a cheating clause in their prenup. She saw the board before she’d even stepped foot on it. And, Sure, they’d been in love when they got married at twenty three, but a cheater never changed its spots, just his lies. In an instant, she got half of everything. Twenty percent of his future earnings, and 360 lipo for a girls trip to Maui to celebrate her emancipation.

All Dylan got out of the deal was two houses, two birthdays, two Christmases, two cars she still couldn’t drive when she turned sixteen. The court awarded them joint custody, ruling they both had enough sense to figure out the schedule on their own. But since that was the year her mom went back to school for her PhD, Dylan spent the majority of her time with her dad and a nanny. Those double holidays also served as a good distraction from the heartbreak she couldn’t explain. Though she was sharp as a whip and actually funny, not laugh because it’s a kid funny, but really funny, she still couldn’t wrap her little mind around why her parents drove to separate houses at the end of the night now. At all those parties, what stuck out the most was everyone saying what a handsome couple they were, how lucky they were to have another. They danced and laughed. They seemed so happy. But looks are deceiving and lucky for her, the loneliest year of her young life was also the year she met her best friend.

( Alexa, play Wannabe )

Dylan and Chanel became an instant package deal, and she thanked her father for not being able to keep his dick out of seedy holes because she wouldn’t have went to school in another district if her mom hadn’t won the house in the divorce, and she wouldn’t have sat down next to Chanel at show and tell, and they wouldn’t have bonded over their pretty dresses, or shared their organic apple juice. God worked in mysterious ways like that. She had a partner for life, and nothing came between them. Not even boys. And, despite having the power to date any eligible bachelor in her grade, she really liked one in particular.

The day she brought Paxton home her took one look at him and chuckled. Dylan figured it was because of the grill he hadn’t learned to talk without slurring with yet, but her mother had other ideas. “He reminds me of your father.” She said, long after he’d gone home, but not before Dylan spent fifteen minutes walking him to his car. The driveway was super long but her lipstick was nonexistent when she returned. That didn’t matter though, because Dylan knew what that meant. Her mom thought Paxton was charming, likable, handsome — but she also knew he was a liar and a dog. They argued for well over an hour, and she said some things she regretted but that’s what teenage girls did, they rebelled against becoming their mother all while doing so. She didn’t realize just how much he was like her father until she caught him DMing other girls on instagram and got a diamond necklace out of the deal. Still, it was clear that he could shoot a man in broad daylight and she would always be daddy’s little girl, nothing could change that.

“Daddy!” Dylan whined, clinging to her dad’s arm as they traipsed through another commercial property with their real estate agent. Today was the day she was finally going to buck up and switch locations from her dad’s pool house to an office space in scenic, downtown Rosewood. Being interviewed by magazines had been life changing, sitting front row of the hottest runways next to A-listers had its perks, doing a skincare routine video for vogue was dope, but expanding her business because the calls wouldn’t stop coming in to be styled be Dylan and her associates? That was something she’d done herself from the ground up. She’d started with styling her friends and now she was going to style the world.

( Alexa, play Successful )

Her heels were tall enough to greet God but she still only reached his shoulder. “I hope this one has vaulted ceilings.” Her tone was way past passive aggressive. She would’ve dialed it back had their agent not been set to make serious bank off of this, but had only been showing them office spaces with disgusting lighting and rude doormen. For all of their sakes, she hoped this one was better. “I need two sessions of hot yoga after the last mess you showed us, at least. My chakras are all out of wack now. Thanks a lot, A.” She was being dramatic but her dad didn’t stop her. He just smiled that infamous smile at the agent and excused himself to the back of the elevator to take a call. Dylan rolled her eyes when she caught their real estate agent, Angela, fawning. She was a slender woman with the proportion of a fashion model who only modeled in theory, never practice. With cropped hair and full lips. She’d been their families real estate agent for decades, found the house her mom had one in the divorce, but Dylan couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d slept with her dad while he was married to her mom, and for that she hated her.

The light dinged to signal they were at their floor, and the elevator doors slid open. When she bothered lifting them from a lengthy text she was typing to her beau, her eyes lit up like when her dad gifted her a patek for her eighteenth, or the G-Wagon that was still collecting dust in the garage for her sixteenth. Whatever the occasion was, she was aglow just like then. The floors were European oak, all the walls were white sans a charcoal accent wall that would be the space of her future desk, and yes, the ceilings were vaulted with windows to match. It was beyond.

“Daddy!” She squealed, running around the space and dreaming up renovation ideas. “This is the one. It’s, like, perfect.” Dylan ignored the real estate agent when she repeated the price tag. 1.2 million may have been a lot for some people, but some people weren’t his little girl and Angela should have known that by now. “Wait. I need to call Chanel!”‌ Dylan could bet she’d be calling Chanel the day Play got down on one knee ( What?‌ A girl could dream ) before she even said yes. She was greeted with a selfie when she unlocked her phone, tapping her chanel platform sneaker clad foot against the wood while the facetime call connected, “What do you think about staining the floor another color?” She asked before absolutely beaming when Chanel’s face appeared on the screen.

“I found it! I found the perfect space.”‌ Without another word, she flipped the camera and did a little dance when Chanel’s excitement nearly exceeded hers. She knew a squeal of absolute glee when she heard one, “I know! Ok, so Just imagine a chaise here, we can install some shelves here. Do you think we can get a Prosecco fountain?…” She walked her through the office like Angela had done moments before, moving out of earshot so her dad could handle business, while they discussed all the possibilities. “Today an office with a view, tomorrow Dylan Davenport’s Fashion Academy,” she beamed.

All her daddy had to do was sign on the dotted line, and she knew he would. He was, after all, her doer. He wouldn’t dare break that illusion…right? The journey from the bathroom back to the main area of the office space was a short one, and she was all smiles until she rounded the corner only for her dream to turn into a nightmare. Her face cracked along with the screen of her phone as it hit the ground and shattered, “DADDY!” She screamed. The sight of her dad and Angela kissing over paperwork causing her to gag instantly.

“Honey, let me explain…..”

There was nothing to explain. Horrible step parents was Jasper’s lane, not hers.

( Alexa, play Ring Off )

ANYTHING ELSE?

1985.

[briseis-lavellan]

Life and Home

Something I wrote for Ao3 as a gift for Songofpsalms297.

Cassandra believes that there is nothing more beautiful than having people to come home to.  (AU)

 It was a long flight after a long business trip away from home. Cassandra was happy to be walking up the familiar driveway that led to the very familiar house.  The occupants must have heard the sound of her luggage bag’s wheels rolling against the pavement, because the door quickly opened and a reddish blonde blur came flying towards her.                    “Mama’s home!” said the little girl as Cassandra quickly scooped her into her arms and held her tightly.  Laying a kiss on top of her daughter’s head, she glanced up and noticed her husband leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed and lazy grin on his face.                    “I have missed you terribly, my darling.” she said as she focused her attention back on the girl.  The child was six years old and took after her father in many ways, but her features were very similar to her mother’s.  She clung tightly to her mother as if the woman would disappear otherwise.  Cassandra’s heart broke every time, knowing that her work often had such an impact on her family.                    “We missed you too.” Varric said as he walked up to his wife and daughter.  Cassandra smiled and leaned down to give her husband a brief but warm kiss on his lips.                    “Eww, gross!” said the little girl, who buried her head into her mother’s shoulder to hide from the sight of her parents kissing.                    “It’s not so bad, Antonia.  A fact that you won’t be discovering until you are in your 30’s.”  Varric said, his eyes still on his wife.                    Cassandra loved her job and the many opportunities she had to help her country as one of the top two presidential advisors.  She had a good rapport with President Dorothea, who was willing to heed the advice of her advisors and council members.  As a result, the country flourished under her leadership and Cassandra was happy to be one of the hands helping it along.  But the job also came with a steep price, which involved her missing time with her family.   Trying to balance her career with raising a child was not as easy as she had hoped it would be.  Varric was very understanding of the importance of her work, but that did not mean that it was not a source of contention between the two.  There had been many arguments, her on the unfairness of the bond he shared with their daughter and him on the fact that she had missed out on several important milestones (first word, first steps, first day of school, etc).  Despite the fighting and the hurtful words that get thrown about, they manage to work through it.  She even dared to say it made them stronger.  The mind-blowing reunion sex wasn’t so bad either.                    Varric took her luggage as they went inside the house and Cassandra paused in the doorway and taking in the familiar smells and surroundings.  She was extremely glad to be home, to be with her little family and not stuffy politicians.  She had missed the sweet laughter of her daughter, the warm embrace of her husband, and happiness that she could only feel when she was with them.        

 They were now sitting on the plush red sofa, listening to Antonia regale her mother with tales of her little adventures at school with her friends, and the fun things she got to do with Auntie Hawke and Uncle Broody.  There were some misadventures with Auntie Rivaini, but Varric quickly headed off any outraged protests by explaining the full context of the situation.  The look she gave him was dubious, but she let it go… for now.  It wasn’t until after proudly showing off a beautifully carved halla that was made by Auntie Lavellan that the little girl started yawning.  It had gotten late and it was well past her bedtime.                    Varric allowed Cassandra the task of tucking their daughter in while watching both of them affectionately.  He would later tell her that he loved the domesticity she exuded while reading to the little being that they both created in love.  How having her home had completed them.  Seven years ago, if someone dared to suggest that she even seemed domestic, she would have protested.  Now she didn’t mind, not if it meant having people who loved her and waited for her.      

 Once Antonia drifted off to dreamland (the ability to dream inherited from her human half), the couple quietly slipped to their bedroom where Varric could finally give his wife the welcome home he had been waiting to give her all day.  He was in the middle of kissing her senseless when the loud and obnoxious, to him anyway, sound of her ringtone interrupted them.  The dwarven author knew that he could just continue and she would eventually forget that she even owned a phone, but he saw the anxiousness in her eyes and knew that it was better to just let her answer it.  Of course, it was work, and since the political climate has been rather stormy lately, Cassandra would want to answer in the case of bad news.  He situated himself on the side of their bed while Cassandra dug her phone out of the pocket of the pants that they discarded on the floor.                  “Leliana, what is it?” She demanded, sexual frustration making her tone sharp.  He could hear a faint voice coming from the phone though he couldn’t make out the words, his wife’s eyes narrowed as she listened to whatever it was Leliana was saying to her.                  “I don’t think that’s… No, I just… What do you mean that’s an order?” the voice continued on and Cassandra sighed in resignation. Varric could feel himself becoming angry.  Usually when she sighed liked that after speaking to Leliana or one of Dorothea’s many assistants, it meant she was packed up to leave the next day.                    “I guess I have no choice but to accept… Yes, thank you Leliana.  We will talk later.”  Cassandra ended the call and looked up to notice that Varric was not looking pleased.                    “I take it that you will have to pack soon.” It wasn’t a question.                  “Yes.”                  “You just got home.”                  “Leliana said that Dorothea ordered me…”                  “Haven’t you done enough for awhile?  Have you not sacrificed enough for them?”                  “Varric…” she began but he interrupted.                  “There has to come a time when you say enough, Cassandra.”                  Cassandra, not Seeker, her old title that became an endearment.  He was not happy.                  “Varric…”                  “No!  I know that you detest ultimatums but at some point, you will have to choose between your family and your… “ He was interrupted as she pressed her lips against his mouth.  Her dwarven husband struggled against the wonderful sensation of having her mouth against his before he finally gave in, both of them opening their lips to allow their tongues to dance, re-stoking the fires that were doused so rudely moments ago.                    She finally ended the kiss, though reluctantly and looked him in the eyes.                  “Stop talking for a moment, dwarf, and I will tell you what she had said.”                  He was still recovering from the kiss, so all he could do was nod.                    “Leliana said that the president recognizes all of my hard work during this whole referendum business and felt that I could use a long well-deserved, break.”                    She kept her eyes on his face, trying to gauge his reaction, which took awhile but a smile crept until he was grinning.                  “That’s great!  Did they say how long?” He set his hands around her waist, slowly running his fingers up and down her side.                    “For about two weeks before I have to fly out to Orlais to attend the conference, but that will only be for two days and I will return and can work here from Kirkwall for the foreseeable future.”                  “That is really something, why all of this though?  Surely there’s more to it than the recognition of your hard work.”                  “It probably has to do with the fact that excessive travel, especially by plane, would not be beneficial for my health in the next few months or so.”                    Varric looked at her, confusion and worry on his face.                  “Your health?  What’s wrong with your health?”                  She smiled and shook her head.                  “Nothing is wrong, my love, I’m only pregnant.”                    It seemed to take a moment before it sank in.  Shocked, he took her hand while staring at her abdomen dumbly.                  “Pregnant...are you sure?” He asked cautiously.  In the last four years, Cassandra had suffered the loss of two pregnancies.  She didn’t know she was even pregnant for either, but the loss was still felt keenly by the both of them.  They worried that they would never again experience the joy of watching a child they made together with their love growing within his Seeker.  He was afraid to hope that it was even real.  It had been another source of contention between them about her work.  He blamed the stress caused by the toxic political climate at the time.  But they had long moved beyond that fight, mending their hearts over the losses.  

         “Yes, my love.” She answered, understanding his wariness.    

 “We are having another one?”                  “Yes, Varric, we are.”                    An ecstatic grin finally broke out on his face before laughing and grabbing his wife by the hands to do a quick happy spin around the room.                  “Another!” he whooped as he stopped.  He looked at her, happiness and maybe tears in his eyes.                    “How long?” his hand covered her abdomen, which had a barely detectable curve now that he knew to look for it.                    “I am about eleven weeks along, though I have only found out about three weeks ago.  I wanted to tell you immediately, but it did not seem right to relay such news over the phone.  I also wanted to make sure that… I kept this one.  The doctor says everything is going splendidly so far and that there is a bigger chance of me carrying to term since I am further along than with the last two.  It is why Dorothea and Leliana are ‘recognizing’ my hard work.  They are ecstatic for us.”                    “I owe them a huge apology for acting like an ass.” He said, reaching up to kiss his wife.  The kiss began as a sweet and loving kiss, but it would soon evolve to something more passionate.  Husband and wife celebrated with the most intimate dance that can only be shared between lovers.  It was a celebration of life.  The life of their daughter, sleeping safely in her bed and the life that dwelled within Cassandra, waiting to make his or her appearance in the world.  Most of all, it was a celebration of home.