#conversation: 002

[fullscoreshenanigans]

(The Promised Neverland Art Book World)

Ah yes, one of my favorite genres of baby full score trio pictures: Isabella being openly affectionate toward Emma and Norman in front of Ray while being hands off with him.

(Chapter 2 | Chapter 37 | Chapter 165 | Chapter 170 | Chapter 177)

[intothewylde]

setting: flashback to before the dornish war occurs, morgan wylde requests an audience with the dragon king, his old friend, regarding the stormlords restlessness regarding taxes ; @jaehaerysiitargaryen

morgan stood before king jaehaerys, his posture steady, though his thoughts were far more turbulent. the years had changed him; he was quieter now, more cautious. the once-easy camaraderie they’d shared as boys had slowly worn away, replaced by the weight of responsibility and a growing sense of distance. still, he considered jaehaerys a friend, but that bond seemed more fragile with each passing year.

“yer grace,” he began, his tone steady but not warm, “i appreciate ye seein’ me.” there was no need for pleasantries; they both certainly knew why he was here.

“i wanted to speak about the taxes ye’ve set on the stormlords,” he continued, letting his words come slowly, carefully. “i’ve heard more than a few speak of it, an’ i can’t help but think it’s not sittin’ right with them. they’re proud men, yer grace. proud of their land, their history. i understand the crown needs gold—aye, i do—but there’s a limit to what even the most loyal of men will bear.”

morgan’s eyes never left the king’s, but there was a hint of something in them—an old frustration, perhaps, or just the lingering sense of disappointment. he’d known jaehaerys before the throne and the politics had come to rule his life, before, so it seemed, the valyrian bloodline had become more than a part of his name.

“i’m not sayin’ there’s trouble brewing,” morgan went on, the words measured, “but there’s anger. subtle, but it’s there, an’ it’s spreadin’ fast. ye can’t ignore it. the stormlords don’t forget what it means to stand tall, and they’ve always been proud of that. i’d just be mindful of that pride, is all.”

morgan paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle between them. “i’m not askin’ ye to change course, but ye’ve got to remember where ye come from. the stormlands will stand with ye, but ye need to be careful where ye push them.”

[raviofthesun]

setting: in the aftermath of silverwing's death, and nearing the end of the dornish/stormland war in the marches, ravi martell takes a moment to process everything with his mentor and friend, baashir dayne. starter for @baashirdayne

the carcass of silverwing sprawled across the valley like a fallen star, its silver scales tarnished with blood and ash. the air reeked of burnt flesh and sulfur, mingling with the metallic tang of spilled lifeblood. ravi martell tightened his grip on his hilt sheathed at his side as he approached, his boots crunching over scorched grass and shattered stones. smoke curled from the dragon's lifeless maw, its final exhalation frozen in time.

victory should have tasted sweeter.

around him, the echoes of the battle still lingered: the screams of men, the roar of dragonfire, the shouts of his name as the beast fell. and yet, all he could hear now was silence, broken only by the crackling of a distant flame. ravi had yet to experience the true horrors of war, until now.

baashir stood nearby, his silhouette framed against the smoky horizon. the sword of the morning's presence steadied ravi, even as a chill ran through him. baashir had always been unshakable—his mentor, his guide. but even from here, ravi could sense the tension in the way the man held dawn, the greatsword's pale blade dim in the fading light.

the prince took a slow step forward, his boots crunching over scorched earth. the heat of the dragon’s corpse still radiated faintly, mixing with the sharp scent of blood and sulfur. ravi’s gaze swept over the battlefield. fires smoldered where homes once stood, and the bodies of soldiers, dornish and stormlander alike, littered the ground. "i thought it would feel different." he finally uttered after a moment. "they always talk about the splendor of it,” he said aloud, though his voice was more to himself than to anyone nearby. “the glory. the songs about how knights stood tall and unyielding, how the banners flew bright against a clear sky.”

ravi shook his head, the shock apparent on his features. “but they don’t talk about the parts that stay with you. the way a man screams when fire takes him. the way the ground smells after it rains blood. or how quiet it gets when it’s all over.”

[kgmilgramau]

Share ice cream

(CMS)

(Warden-001,002-003)

#short conversation

(Warden-001)

Nugget: Hey..hey! Uh..hey 001!

Kk:....

Nugget:Come on, let's eat ice cream!

Kk: Why do I have to eat with you?

Nugget: I intend to buy it for everyone. So let's eat together.

Nugget: Please.

Kk: No.

Nugget: Please.

Kk: No.

Nugget: Please?

Kk:....*sigh* Okay...

(002,003)

Penny : *about to share the ice cream Nugget gave her*

Cindy: Come on, I'll do it myself. I don't trust you.

Penny : oh..ok..

Cindy: 1,2,...3!!!

*breaks ice cream*

.

.

.

Cindy: Oh...

Penny : ....Oh...

Cindy : I...I'm sorry. I did it wrong again...

Penny: Oh!!? No, no, no, it's okay. I don't want to eat a lot anyway. I don't like desserts very much. (she lies)

Cindy : ...Really?

Cindy: Then..then good! I'll eat for you!

Penny : Hahaha...thank you.

random commission#4

[ofsacredseas]

setting: semi-flashback to lithia, later in the evening long after ayca would normally have departed, she instead has opted to stay, finding lithia to be one of her favorite events, and so she has indulged far more in conversation, food, and drink, perhaps too much of the latter (aka her last stop of the night before leaving) ; starter for @emiravmallister

the lithia festival, despite one amongst many, had long been a favorite of the eldest lady of house mallister. often prone to leave such events earlier in the night, she found herself staying later for this one over the years. she couldn’t quite decide what it was about tonight that had kept her later than previous times, but nevertheless, she was more of a participant in the festivities than she had ever been in, well, ever.

ayca had just removed herself from the dance floor, not often finding herself amongst livelier tunes such as these, but the flushed cheeks gave way to one of the reasons for her more chipper mood. tucking strands of loose raven locks behind her hair, she made her way around the crowd, aimlessly walking towards, perhaps, another person to converse with this evening that she normally wouldn’t, instead spitting her sister from some paces away, and a bright smile came on her features.

“emira!” she called in a sing song voice, closing the distance between the two and weaving her arm into the others. the movement was not entirely abnormal for ayca to conduct, only it was far more affectionate and warm than would normally come from her. “i’ve missed you all evening. how come you have not come and spoken to your favorite sister?” there was humor in her tone, eyes squinting with her cheeky grin, as she guided the younger mallister amongst the crowd to no where in particular. “what has kept you so busy? talking with some lord?”

[ap1ratesl1fe]

𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚛 — 𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚘 & 𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚔𝚊

The Historian was torturing herself at this point. Returning to their spot every day, as if Anika would immerge from the sparkling blue waves like Aphrodite herself. Arms wide open and ready to pull her in her arms, to hold her as if no time has passed at all. Only to spend hours there and to be met with disappointment all over again. For her tears to take her over completely until she was certain that she could fill the ocean with her tears.

She can't keep doing this to herself. She knows that. She has repeated that to herself every day for the past week. But she couldn't stop herself from returning to their favourite spot, as if somehow willing her siren to return to her. For her heart to finally stop aching like this.

Klio sighed. One more. One more time. And then no more.

And so, she headed to the beach. Brushing off any vendors and smugglers that tried to reach her attention. She had a goal in mind. And after that... Well. She will finally put her to rest. Anika's memory and love will be gone with the tide.

Sighing, she finally reached the beach, her head hung down as she braced herself. Closing her eyes, she raised her head and inhaled. Hold. Exhaling, she opened her eyes. Gasping softly to herself as they began to tear up. Was this a dream? Has she finally lost it? She couldn't be sure. All she could do was stare for a moment; she couldn't even speak. Her mouth opening and closing as she breathed shakily. Dark eyes scanned over, ensuring that this was real. That everything she hoped for this past month was truly and heartachingly real. "A-Anika?" Yasemin sobbed.

location: the beach — their spot

when: june 1728

who: @darkhorizcns

[fromspringandfire]

setting : the westerlands, the gardens are set up with tables for tea as the ladies of the many kingdom's arrive, allowing them to mingle, there, laena finds her cousin ; starter for @seffora-merryweather

the land of the west was strangely familiar to laena, having made this place her home for many moons, that she would consider herself rather comfortable here, for the most part. lannisport, really, was the place she resided at her brother's behest, and the was grateful for the lannister's kindness towards her, though she was very aware it was a favor to her jaehaerys, more than anything. still, even before, she had stayed in this realm for a while, as a seamstress, making many fine dresses for the ladies of the westerlands. reflecting on such a time felt so terribly long ago.

after a long journey within a carriage, all she wanted to do was stretch her legs and enjoy some fresh air, the gardens were naturally the perfect place to seek both, and it seemed there were already festivities set up within the grounds - tea being served, ladies mingling, couples walking down paths between smell hedges. laena was not entirely familiar with casterly rock, but already she found it quite beautiful.

and suddenly she spotted her cousin, seffora merryweather, and a grin crossed her features as she strode over to the other. "seffora!" she greeted her. "it's a lovely day isn't it? thank the gods, i don't think i'd have liked being crammed indoors after such a journey. i hope yours went well."

[ofgoldengrove]

setting: during the verdant concord event, mathis takes refuge in a smoking down with cedric ; starter for @visxionaries

the den was tucked behind a curved hallway in highgarden, past the better-lit parlors and music rooms, and deeper still into the belly of the castle. it smelled of pressed flowers and pale smoke, threaded with the hush of conversations meant not to be overheard. everything here was dim—intentionally so. a sanctuary of shadows and thought. the walls were paneled in dark oak, the same wood that cradled them now in high-backed chairs, smoothed by age and touch. their seats were cushioned in green velvet, the kind that remembered every movement for a moment longer than it should.

mathis sat with one arm slung loosely along the carved rest, posture relaxed but composed. not stiff, not lazy. just… at ease. there was a quiet calm in him now, the kind that doesn’t ask to be noticed. a far cry from the court-gilded boy he’d once been—quick to speak, quicker to smile. that spark still lingered, flickering when he met someone’s eyes or when he laughed under his breath at something dry and clever. but there was weight in him now, too. not heaviness, but grounding.

he rolled the unlit pipe between his fingers, more a gesture of thought than habit. the lacquered stem caught a flicker of light and held it like a secret.

"you know," he began, settling into his usual calm but thoughtful manner, "i was walking through the gardens earlier today, and i stumbled upon something that caught my attention. there were a group of painters there, using that old technique. fresco painting."

he paused, letting the memory sink in for a moment, eyes glinting as he turned to cedric. "it was strange to see, really. most people don’t seem to appreciate it these days, not in the way it deserves."

mathis leaned forward slightly, his gaze growing more intense as he spoke. "the thing about frescoes, especially in a place like this, is the way the medium breathes. it’s alive, almost, changing as the plaster dries, the colors blending and shifting with every stroke. i watched them work for a while. it wasn’t anything grand, like a heroic battle or a dragon soaring through the skies. no, this was more... personal."

he let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head at the memory. "they were painting simple moments. scenes of children playing in the garden, a breeze rustling through the trees. not the kind of things you’d expect to see immortalized in such a way."

[bulletpro0f]

@kristenxxparrish -- Kristen's apartment, late

Ezra sits down on her couch, and it takes him two seconds to realize that what he's doing is crazy, and could backfire terribly. Could get him killed, or his life messed up, anything, really. But -- it's too late, and he already hears her keys turning in the door, and maybe, maybe it's worth it. Maybe this is what finally captures her attention, the extremity of it all.

So he just sits and waits in silence, for her to notice that he's there. His clothes are dark, barely visible, his shirt is half open, hair tousled. It had been easy to get in here, way to freaking easy. If this is over -- No. He breaks his silence. "You should get a better security system.", Ezra jokes, voice rough, "Anybody could just come in here whenever they like."

[yeniens]

@theolangley -- The Resol, after Mathias' attack

When Yenna opens her eyes again, the carpet floor around her is starting to soak with blood, and everything hurts so much that she can barely move. The shattering pain in her side almost rips her apart, and still, everything Yenna can think about is Isaia.

How she's only a glimpse away from him now, how she can almost hear his voice in her head. And then suddenly, it's almost like she can hear Theo too -- or at least the familiar echo of his shoes on the tiles. Then the noise gets louder, and Yenna realizes he's actually there.

She tries to speak, tries to raise a hand, but all she can get out of her mouth is a weak gasp for air. She doesn't quite remember how she ended up here, or why -- and then suddenly she remembers, and panic takes over her body in a final rush of adrenaline.

The woman starts breathing out panicked gasps, afraid it is in fact the stranger who came back to finish the job -- and she can't smell, can't quite hear, can't quite feel, at least not anything other than pain.

Her mind is racing, and she's starting to feel dizzy -- eyes fluttering shut, thoughts circling around the carpet floors, Isaia, and blood. Why is there so much blood? Who is bleeding?

A second wave of panic hits as her chest starts to hurt, and Yenna rips her eyes back open -- and all she can croak out is a terrified "Theo."

[barlowek]

@cozdemir -- The MET Gala, late

Luckily for Kian, most of the night had been quite uneventful and calm. Their last case had been closed, and Kian had volunteered to help out at the MET, for the experience -- and the distraction.

And it's the perfect distraction.

Until.

"Oh shit." A familiar pressure steals the air out of his lungs, and Kian quickly whips out his phone to act as if he has been distracted. But truth is, he hasn't been. Truth is, he gives up faking it after a few seconds, pushes the phone back into his pants and instead looks back up again -- right into Callum's eyes.

And it's not good.

The bullet in his chest is piercing deeper, closer to his heart, and Kian gulps down everything he feels, turns around and attempts to walk, maybe run away.

[mconwrites]

// @postergrl

she’s sat in their shared apartment on the couch, glasses on, plate of homemade food in front of her that she keeps digging into as she works through a mountain of paperwork. it’s the first time she’s been back in over a week and she isn’t sure if achilles has been there or not. but the space had seemed exactly as she left it. untouched. there had been a great desire to stay away for longer, embarrassment still running deep. however luna was certain that her dads had seen enough of her, had taken about as much of her dramatics as they could handle. so there she is, heart in her throat when the front door opens. she almost tells him that there’s leftovers in the fridge, because of course she still put some food aside for him despite how she was feeling. tells herself it’s just out of habit. but she chooses to stay silent, simply gives a glance in his direction before getting back to what she’s doing. best to act like nothing ever happened, she assumes. even if it is eating her up inside. even if it’s all that she can think about. even if she’s disgusted by the idea that she might actually have feelings.

[intothewylde]

setting: the rain house, just after the kingdom's depart king's landing, a hunt is hosted at the keep of house wylde ; @wyldewillow

the halls of the rain house were bustling with people, illuminated brightly, and teeming with life and vibrance. once would assume morgan would be pleased at such a sight, but it were more accurate to say it made him nothing less than anxious. the storm outside had begun to pick up, the pattering of the rain against glass windows growing louder, but perhaps missed by those who were far more focused on the music and feast from the day's hunt. no doubt, this smaller gathering offered some interesting opportunities, not just for the stormlord, but other's who attended. right now, however, he was beginning to second guess his grand idea.

the lord circled the hall, hands resting behind his back as they tended to do while he made a conscious effort to look somewhat comfortable. small greetings made to those he passed by, and perhaps even some part of him attempted to channel his father, who had done well enough at these things to gain himself a seat upon the council of aegon ii. morgan believed his seat was earned, too, but he also knew his friendship with the king gave the man more insight into the way morgan could truly operate as a person, and not just see him for a quiet, perhaps meek, lord.

he noticed his sister coming upon his path and he offered her a faint, but genuine, smile. morgan never quite knew what was occurring with her on a personal level, or with her place in house blackwood, as he was far more privy to the lives of his nephews, but lack of awareness did not equate to lack of caring, here. "sister," he spoke to her now, standing beside her. "i was not sure if you would attend, i am glad you are here."

[gcldenhcurs]

open to: @stayliquid, logan street

muse: dilan ozdemir, a former sex worker that had been trafficked, but he found her and 'rescued' her, now they've formed a relationship that needs to still be hidden.

Eyes shot open as Dilan felt her dreams crush against her chest. She felt her staggered breathing start to even out. Things had been okay in the last month, almost normal even. Her nightmares had even started to fade away like a bad memory and it was more than likely due to the man who was snoring softly next to her in bed. Logan. The only good part of this whole ordeal had been him and her progress in healing had something to do with him. However, they were getting closer to the trial date and the fear of having to confront her own personal torturers crept back into her life.

Pushing herself out of bed quietly to avoid waking him, she walked towards the living room, hoping it was just a bad dream and she could fall back asleep easily on the couch. Dilan's guilt was thick within her: Logan had already done so much for her, the least she could do was let him sleep peacefully.

[linagram]

so i was writing akio's vd (i do have everyone's vd descriptions, like what's supposed to happen and all, but i haven't written the actual dialogue for most of them yet) and. listen something about this is just so funny to me

[ofsacredseas]

setting: the westerlands, during the first few days whilst everyone is gathered in casterly rock, ayca spots a familiar figure and, after much contemplation, chooses to make an apology for her previous behavior.

context: ayca was a total asshole to garrick during the reach storm lol

starter for @garrick-cargyll

she hadn't an opportunity to speak to the man alone during their time in king's landing, often seeing him performing his duty as high commander, or in conversation with another, that there left little room for her to approach him. ayca was glad she had waited, however, as truthfully she were still reeling from their interaction, despite her very part in it escalating the way it did. the holy month, however, was a time where she dedicated herself to great contemplation - would her life go in the direction she hoped it to, she would need to make a conscious effort to change, too. and not to her core, she knew she were not a bad person, deep down, only intolerant, and easy to rile.

ayca knew such stubbornness need hold no room in her interactions, where she needed to present herself a lady worthy of her name. and she did, mostly, but the few curt interactions she had with a select few lately stuck with her, and she wondered if it stuck with them, too. on her list, as well, as the eldest of the tully princesses, and she had already instructed a painting of riverrun to be sent to her ahead of her attempt to be amicable with the other lady.

in the gardens outside of the castle, now, she spotted the high commander, having finished a conversation with another lord, and now alone - her window of opportunity coming along, and she had to take a deep inhale to prepare herself to swallow her pride. before she could over-think it, feet found themselves nearing the man. "lord cargyll." she greeted, her voice steady and pleasant, though not forced. it were her natural voice in interactions like these, long practiced. "i imagine you are surprised at my speaking to you, but i will not overcomplicate what i wish to say." she stated. "and that is, i apologize for my behavior in the reach. i was...well...soaked from the rain and terribly moody, but you did not deserve my harshness towards you."

it took every bit of her to admit it and she were admittedly glad it was over, now. part of her hoped he apologized in return, part of her hoped he would simply accept it and she could move on, to never speak to him again. one hand was crossed over the other at her front as she awaited his response.