#revelery

[beproudgala]

THE GALA OF PRIDE 2024

hello  hello  and  welcome  to  the  first  annual gala  of  pride,  run  by  yours  truly,  the  specter  of  the  hour,  ghostie!  now  i  bet  you're  wondering,  are  there  any  prerequisites  for  attendance!  oh,  only  a  few,  and  they're  nonrestrictive!  so  check  them  out  and  have  a  chance  to  meet  some  new  people!  ♥

all characters are welcome so long as they are a part of the LGBTQ+ community - or someone can vouch that they're a good ally ;P

the art for this event is NOT REQUIRED but heavily welcomed! moodboards, descriptions, and even reference photos are entirely welcome, but do have FUN with it! i'm not going to police your fashion! (others, though, might.)

this is meant to get you out of your comfort zone, if only slightly. follow out of your usual niche, interact with someone new! i only ask as admin of this event, that you try to at least interact with one (1) new person during the duration of this event. then you're fine by me.

multimuses, feel free to add whoever! the more the merrier! just don't overwhelm yourself by feeling the need to involve everybody who is under the banner.

speaking of banners... you don't need to say which flag your character dons, but at least bear a pin of the lgbtqia community of some kind!

now that that's said! let the revelery begin!

[prettywordsyouleft]

Chelle!!!! Holy Skz!!! The Dark Revelery fic was HOT!! I started out feeling like I was in the Spring Court when Feyre first saw Rhysand (although this was much more spicy than that scene) and then at a faerie revel in the Mortal Instruments and Dark Artifices world. This made me want to meet a tall, dark, and handsome stranger at a festival. Preferably Hyunjin, but if he was close to Rhys I'd take him 😂 Thank you for sharing your beautiful writing!!

I feel terrible because somehow I missed this message and yet it's so kind and I'm so sorry!

Hahhaha funny you mention fae courts. To be honest, I was thinking of Holly Black's The Cruel Prince too... I'm sure ACOTAR played some part in setting but definitely have read enough fae fantasy now to have felt like I could do it some justice. My favourite is These Hollow Vows, but there's not nearly enough dancing in that one XD

Thank you so much for the wonderful compliment and I hope you're doing well Xxx

[wintervsuns]

DURING THE TIME SKIP; Following the return of the northern fighting forces from the iron war. // @northernseer

Lord Brandon Karstark, the Sun of Winter and the Hand of the King was wed to Lady Meera Reed within the Godswood at Winterfell. It was a private, intimate event; if not interrupted by the Sea Wolf entering and standing at the back of the gathering in the Godswood, a strange phantom. It was followed by a night of feasting and revelery, where the Northern court and their guests took the chance to bask in winter’s sun once - for they had made it out of the other side, again.

[jefarawol]

"Jefara… I'm sorry…"

She felt a tug at her elbow bringing her to a halt. She turned to look at him, seeing the pained look on his face.

"I can't do this. I can't pretend there's nothing between us. Every time I look at you I want to pull you close and kiss you with all my might.

"Aymeric…" her voice filled with anguish. "Don't make this harder than it already is." 

He took her hand, squeezing it lightly. "I put you in harm's way, and there was nothing I could do to help." 

"We did our duty, Aymeric. That's all we can do. There will always be danger, we can't change that."

She felt the gentle brush of fingers against her cheek. She couldn't help but lean into the touch especially when his thumb ghosted along her bottom lip.

"Aymeric…" she whispered softly. "We shouldnt do this."

"I know." She felt herself being pulled gently up to him. "I know…"

His lips pressed down gently unto hers with a sigh. She reached up to meet him standing on her tiptoes as he deepened the kiss. His hand moved to the back of her head, angling it better to taste her mouth.

"Stop." With a heavy heart she pulled back. "We can't Aymeric."

A single tear fell against her cheek as she buried her face into his chest. He held her tightly. 

"If we continue like this it will get harder. You made your choice. Now I'm making mine."

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Haurchefant was glad of my return. He sang my praises from the rafters as he greeted me back. Aymeric did not join his revelery. He went straight to the Incessory. Haurchefant could see that something new had passed between us. I shook my head. It wasn't the time.

[returnforevermore]

zofi is a life cleric but in the same way dionysus celebrates life: life isn’t life if it isn’t lived to the fullest and enjoyed in every regard therein. zofi’s god ( lliira ) is actually lyprically seen as a goddess of joy and revelery  and zofi herself partakes to excess in such things, especially during her time in service to the temple of lliira.

[yukyunotabibito]

[ Cue the Music ] "Hello." Laylea smiles, approaching a stranger on the dance floor. "I love your dress, it's stunning. And it goes so well with your hair..." She's getting distracted. "May I have this dance?"

Nasir thinks that the dress had far better suited Lynet, red accenting her hair and eyes in a way that Nasir would never quite be able to achieve. They wonder what she would say if she could see them now.

Knowing her, she would have laughed and called them stunning. And then would have proceeded to tease them endlessly for borrowing her things once again.

She would adored the revelery of a ball like this, lighting up every corner of the ballroom that she occupied with a smile that could have outshone the sun. A great tragedy that they could not share this experience with her.

"It was my wife's," They say quietly, the requirement for past tense causing a pang in their heart, "But I would be honored to dance. Though... it has been quite some time since I last did."

[eritvita]

[ balcony ] (reverse from original prompt) receiver finds sender standing out on a balcony alone and joins them: "don’t look so stiff." [saw your one reply with cosmic body horror at a ball and my brain went !!!!]

@molioanimatra

"Thou art keen to submit to the lesser light of the gleam of candleflame," comes amiable Roland, all in fantastic glamory in his fine brocade, the glittering threads what resound with crystalline buttons and delicate, white hose, his hair tied and perfumed and braided softly onto a green, silken ribbon.

He leans next to Maretus with his arms upon that balcony, with its alabaster and intricate, carved marble, and watches the reveleries of this certain Sect of an Orlesian party; squinting pleasantly through its burst of fireworks above and watching the shine in rainbow colors those shapes of humanoid laughing, thrown heads, all the refracting lights for masks and delicate filigree from the spouting, Andraste-borne fountain.

He reeks of smoking incense and dark, red wine, and the silken cravat upon Roland's throat is loosened by pretty sweat and from his own, gnawing palms. He grins loosely. "None of the carnal Fan for revelry nor the passionate embrace of a Goodly conversation, forsooth?"

PROMPTS FOR LAVISH BALLS, PARTIES, AND SECRETS .

[downcountryroads]

Morning jog in a futile attempt to burn off some of the gazillion calories I’ve consumed this week. But hey, pastries every morning and beer every night are worth it. I jogged around the site of #oktoberfest. The “tents” are actually temporary buildings that take a couple months to construct. They’re not left up year-round because the site is used for other events, festivals, etc. Stumbled upon the Bavarian Statue and ran the steps. St. Pauls-Brennen stands in the background, presumably overlooking and judging the revelery. #bavaria #munich #travel #travelphotography #traveladventures (at Theresienwiese) https://www.instagram.com/p/CgY70cktXi_/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[ziger123]

I wanna see bird boy and shadow fight. When’s that fight?

[toiletboundwiki]

【　WIKI UPDATE　】

- More Character/Cover/Chapter Images have been added to the gallery.

- All JP/EN Voice actors for the cast have been updated.

- Page for Episode 6 is now out!

- Mermaid Supernatural’s page has been updated.

- Tabbers added for all characters!

- Volume Images updated!

Please give a warm welcome to some new additions to the Wiki Team: Rinnity, Arzene, and Revelery!! They are helping out a lot with the wiki and we couldn’t be more grateful for them nwn

[inquistior-a]

@bornpariah​ said   :   𝙸’𝙼 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝙻𝙾𝙽𝙴𝙻𝚈. 𝙸 𝙰𝙼 𝙵𝚁𝙴𝙴.

   HALWN HUMS A LITTLE IN ANSWER---a sound from his chest, muted by the way that his chin is drawn down towards his sternum, his eyes unfocused on the distant edge of garden below them. It is raining in a thick sheet, the air misted from where the heavy curtain of raindrops breaks on the edges of the roof above. Things smell of damp stone and water, of wet earth. Dorian had been predictably displeased by the prospect of getting wet, but it’s heartening how easy it’s becoming to convince the Mage to go along. Nothing genuinely unpleasant, of course---though Halwn has difficulty finding anything wholly unpleasant when they are alone together, even when they disagree. There are some things that he cannot leave alone---some things that cannot be passed over. People often pass them over out of politeness, or fear;  sometimes from an impulse at mercy. Nothing is ever crossed that way, and he dislikes Dorian’s insistence,  I am not lonely, I am free,  as much as he dislikes anything the Mage has ever said. Significantly, as it turns out.

   It sounds unhappy. Halwn cannot accept that, not when it could be elsewise.

   ‘ I lived for a long time with the same sentiment, believing the same thing. In my house, with my work, occasional friends and occasional lovers. I made bread in the morning, worked myself sore during the day, and read in my rose garden at night. Swam in the clear river when it was hot, kept warm by the fire when it snowed. After the Blight, it seemed more than I could ask for. I would drink wine and watch the light change and think to myself:  I am happy here, even though I am alone. As happy as anyone can have a chance of being. Contentedness and happiness are part of the same sensation, aren’t they? ’

   They have never spoken it directly, or aloud, but everything has it’s time. Halwn dips his chin again and clasps his hands together, his body bent and his forearms draped over the stone railing. He is not wearing his gloves, he has only noticed now. He is strangely glad to look at his own hands, his own fingers naked and wrapped around one another. The Inquisitor lifts his chin, looks out, and then cants his body a little to meet the achingly familiar sharpness of Dorian’s dark grey eyes.

   ‘ A man stayed with me for nearly a month not long before I was summoned to the Conclave. A green Chevalier---beautiful, and a little lost. He would curl up in my arms at night, and I could feel his fear at the idea of leaving, of returning home to war. His fear over what he had done, and what he felt he had no choice but to go on and do. He was so stubbornly brave, and I found him good. It felt good in turn, to provide some sense of safety for him. To be a shelter for him, to make him laugh, to give him pleasure. I felt---real. I did not love him, but I felt a profound affection, something that might have become love if I had nurtured it. When he left, I lay on my back in my empty bed, not mourning but---wondering. Wondering if I had truly lived a day in the last fifteen years that I had been alone. Time was passing, people were passing, and I was watching them go---affectionately, perhaps, but affection is only part of love, the same that contentedness is only part of joy. ’

   Halwn exhales, and laughs a little. It is not a simple thing to be so honest---not always in this way, in this direction, when he knows that Dorian may consider it an imposition. It is an imposition, isn’t it? To step the first foot across a comfortable boundary. Breaking tension is not always a relief;  it is often destructive. Some things are held together by tension alone. When the tension is gone, they disappear---but Halwn is sure that it won’t be that way between them. He is as sure as he has hope. He’s a stupid man, sometimes, and his hope is resolutely vast.

   ‘ I’m not a young man anymore, Dorian. I have myself---but there is no one who has me. There is love in me, there is love in me so thick that at times it feels---heavy. I think now what a waste it would be, to try to save it for another time. When it is safer, or more convenient... ’

   The Inquisitor shifts to stand at his full height and turns so they are facing one another, now. He has the sense that he is killing something, or that something is being born. It’s thrilling---he’d forgotten what it was like, what it was really like, to ask for another person. Perhaps he hasn’t truly ever known. Not this way, in the least. Has ever wanted so badly to make the offer of himself?

   ‘ I think there is love in you, too. And I think it would be a shame to waste it, when there are people in the world in want of it. And I think that by wasting love, you would be giving yourself less than you deserve. How long do we carry on wanting something, but refusing to ask for it? ’

   He touches the pad of his thumb to the slant of Dorian’s jaw. It’s a touch that lingers, and one that longs to grow---he’d like to cup Dorian’s face in both hands, he would like to bend down and kiss him. But everything has its time, and there is more to love than this feeling, too. Halwn can’t bring himself to offer it only in one way. The speech already feels like a sustained assault, tearing apart the flirtatious boundary that has kept them from getting near enough to cause a mess of their situation. 

   ‘ You should have what you want, Dorian. That is what I think. If they have made you believe otherwise---they were wrong. And I hope you will defy them in that, too. ’

   One of the doors that leads inward, to the hall where the night’s little revelery is still ongoing, opens on noisy hinges and the Inquisitor can hear Josephine calling for him in her urgent-but-unurgent way. It is difficult to look away, and Halwn’s thumb skates enough across Dorian’s chin to nearly graze the swell of his bottom lip before he drops his hand away. Rather than the kiss he’d like to ask for, and rather than risking speaking a goodbye aloud, Halwn excuses himself with another softly upturned smile. He can feel the warmth in his own eyes, the surge of his heart in his throat even as he pulls his gloves from his belt to slide them back over his naked hands---fingers still singing a little with the ghost of that single touch.

[fheythfully]

TITLE: oh i beg you, can i follow (AO3 link) SPOILERS FOR ALL OF SHB The true question lies on the tip of her tongue, unwilling to be spoken: Is a tempered, light filled girl still mortal, Thancred? . . . The Crystarium is celebrating the return of darkness, but the guest of honour is nowhere to be found.

She’s nestled between a shipping crate and the cold steel of a resting cannon when the footsteps come to find her. Thancred’s, going by the purposefully heavy tread; there may be a gunblade on his back now but he was a rogue first, and his loudly telegraphed steps are an easily recognizable offer: withdraw further into her hiding spot and he will pretend to have never seen her, or remain as she is and make due with his company.

It’s a tempting thought, to be left alone in the night with only herself and her troubled mind. Her body tenses and she almost does it, but Ardbert’s face flashes before her eyes. He wouldn’t have wanted her to be alone in a time like this. He would have remained stubbornly at her side, staring out at the same scenery she was and offering his words of support. She can’t have him with her, not anymore, but she can easily imagine his disappointment if she were to push away the Scions after everything they had been through.

Her heart still hurts any time she thinks of the other Warrior and the hole he’d left behind. She feels both bereft of a dear friend and warm, an aching gap in her soul that is empty yet mended at the same time.

The footsteps draw closer and Lia forces herself to relax and remain as she is, sprawled out under the clear night sky blanketing the Crystarium. Out of the corner of her eye she watches Thancred make the corner and she turns, greeting him with one brow raised. It is a silent question of why he’d felt it was necessary to leave the on-going festivities of the Crystarium to come seek her out. Undoubtedly, there was much drinking and merriment to be had below; she had partaken in it for a bell or two before retreating to her spot. And after everything that’s happened, she had not expected to see Thancred until well past the dawn, and probably nursing a killer hangover to boot.

“Quite the place you have here,” he says in lieu of answering her. He glances about him—she’s hidden away at one of the highest points in the city accessible, unless one decided to scale the towering pillars and crystalline roofs. There is faint music from the markets and the Wandering Stairs where the heart of celebration is, but other than that, there is only the silence of the glimmering stars and the distant mountains on the horizon. 

It is both peaceful and lonely here in equal measure.

It is precisely what she’d wanted.

Lia remains silent but shifts to make room for him. “Why’d you come?” She asks the moment he’s settled down. At some point in the night he’d lost his coat (possibly to Ryne; she wouldn’t be surprised to find the girl snoozing on a bench somewhere) and the bare skin of his arm brushes up against hers. She can’t help the shivers that come across her body at the thought of someone touching her so casually after she’d nearly become a Warden. The body Thancred now so casually allows beside him had nearly twisted into a cruel mess of limbs and flesh and light, eager to turn them just the same. 

The thought of it makes bile rise to her mouth and her heart skips beats, terrified and distraught and ashamed.

She’s withdrawn into herself before she can even acknowledge the motions, body chasing her own warmth in lieu of someone else’s. It makes her wish once more that Ardbert yet remained with her, untouchable yet relentless and comforting.

There had been no running away from the man dogging her steps. It had irked her plenty when he first appeared in her inn room, and then again the second time; but as the weeks passed she had grown to accept it. She had grown to expect it, even; glimpses of him out in the field, and their conversations in the safety of the Pendants’ apartment. Unlike with the others, speaking with Ardbert did not make her feel judged or as if she was in danger of disappointing their perception of the vaunted Warrior of Light. When she spoke with Ardbert it was with a man her equal, one who had been just as responsible for his world as she has been with the Source. 

By the gods, she missed Ardbert. She’d last seen this view of Lakeland with him at her side and now she was alone and one shard closer to a whole. It did not seem like a fair trade: a friend for a fragment of her soul. She would choose the former in every choice given, in every life lived. 

“Well, when the guest of honour disappears from the reveleries, the attendees are bound to notice.” Startled, Lia drops her gaze from the horizon and to Thancred’s face. But he only smiles at her, amusement clear in his eyes. “I kid, I kid. We noticed though, and grew concerned.”

Ah. Y’Shtola must have sent him then. “Sorry to hear you got babysitting duty,” Lia grumbles, drawing her knees up close to her chest. She rests her chin on them and gazes once more out into the darkness of the distant mountains. Has Bismarck returned? She cannot help but wonder. Her mind does not let her rest from that time in Amaurot, of Emet-Selch and Hades and Ardbert. She knows that things are meant to be over, at least for now—but they never truly were . Somewhere, Elidibus was no doubt growing stronger in his hate for her; somewhere, the Empire was making ready to march. 

And the Warrior of Light was sitting here, not even on her own planet , brooding about things she could not change. Things that had been left out of her control when she should have been down there celebrating her victory with the rest of them, instead of caving to her own fears and misgivings and grief over a man who had been both her and not. 

She flinches in surprise when an unexpected hand makes contact with her arm and turns back to Thancred. “I’d volunteered,” he corrects her. The lingering smile on his face is soft in the starlight cast above them, and she’s almost managed to forget that his real body still rests in the Source. Too long hair and a face in need of a shave, with a bandana the others had teased him over; that is how she remembers him and had seen him last. But for him, it had been five years since he’s seen her last—and on the First his body had reformed alongside his soul’s image, in which he was young once more and untouched by the hands of Lahabrea or his trip through the Lifestream.

It was like looking at a memory with the First-hardened Thancred imposed over it. It was strange, but then again, what hadn’t been lately?

The hand on her arm sets Lia’s teeth on edge, having someone touch her so casually only days after she had white ichor running through her veins, burning up marble and wood whenever it spewed forth from her lips. She itches to shake it off. 

“Did Ryne go to sleep?” She asks. The girl had energy aplenty in the wake of their success, but she was still young and tired from all she had done. The healing she had done on Lia alone, prior to their trip to the Tempest, had left her pale faced and sunken-eyed and the guilt and gratitude both bubble within Lia’s chest, adding on further to the maelstrom of emotions swirling within.

The hand is withdrawn as Thancred chuckles. His eyes find the stars above them and his posture is as relaxed as Lia’s seen him since—well, since a very long time. “She did. Fell asleep right next to the twins, though thankfully not for the same reasons.” At her pointed silence, his smile notches up into a grin. “I’m afraid those two are nowhere near as close to holding their alcohol as well as they think they are. Out like babes, and now safely in their rooms for the remainder of the night.” 

“Where you should be,” Lia is quick to point out. “Your injuries from Ran’jit were surely strained in—well.” She trails off, unable to say the name dancing on her tongue. Hades . She has not finished processing yet, has not managed to file away the ghostly recreation of Amaurot or Emet-Selch’s genuine request at the end of it all. It will all fall away somewhere within her in time, laid to rest alongside all the other bones of things she does not wish to think about. 

If Ardbert were here, he’d tell that she should. That it was unhealthy to bury them under the earth of her thoughts, where she only encountered them in the grips of a nightmare.

“I’m faring fine,” Thancred replies and she can feel his eyes on her again. His gaze feels just as heavy as his hand had been. “It is you, my dear, that should be the one taking her rest. It’s well-deserved, wouldn’t you say?”

The endearment is old and familiar and makes her want to curl up even further into herself, build walls of Garlean steel outside her body so as to not let anyone in. It reminds her of a hot desert too long ago, of a smile she hasn’t seen on Thancred’s face since. Of a camaraderie they haven’t had since she carried his limp body on the back of a stolen magitek from the blazing, crumbling ruins of a Garlean stronghold. 

It’s enough to break her, out here in the lonely night with the both of them staring at the same stars and the faint sound of music coming from below. For so long she had managed to fare alone, to rely on no one but herself to shoulder her hopes and fears, and then Ardbert had come along and it was as if her soul had recognized its missing part, even before the mysterious words of the long-dead Amaurotine in the long-dead city. It had made her want to actually open up herself to someone, made her heart in her chest flutter with desire to not be alone, not anymore. For so long her mantra had been that the Warrior of Light does not get lonely, especially not in the wake of her victory; that the Warrior of Light is a woman of force and steel, of victory and surety. 

And the deepest secret she’s been holding for days now, close to her chest and barely even shared with Ardbert—

That the Warrior of Light assuredly, did not, for the briefest of hours on a long, light filled night, wish to run away and die in peace as a monster. 

“Is it?” Slips out from her mouth. The music from the markets has struck up a cheerful tune in stark contrast to the turmoil she struggles to contain from leaking into her words. “I nearly killed you all. Nearly became a monster myself. It was only luck that led to the light within me settling.” 

Luck , by which she means, of course, the death of Emet-Selch. The moment between her last thought on him and the one right now has not afforded her the clarity she seeks on how it makes her feel. There is no satisfaction in it, not like there had been with Thordan or Zenos. 

There should be. He wanted to Rejoin the First to the Source through genocide, she knows this, and yet.

Yet . 

Something sad and old within her that she has no name for is grieving.

The hand on her arm is back again and she tilts her head to peer at Thancred. “Hey,” he says quietly, the smile gone from his face. In its place is an earnest appeal, a trust she feels is undeserved considering she was moments away from eating them all. “But you didn’t turn. You’re still mortal. You’re still you .” The hand on her arm moves to cover her hair in a move similar she’s seen both Urianger and him do with Ryne; a motion of comfort, and for a brief second she’s bitterly amused at being comforted like a child. But Thancred’s fingers do not linger in one spot and he smoothes back the flyaway strands around her forehead, then runs them gently over the thin skin of her ears. 

For a heartbeat, she looks at him and lets herself be swallowed by the tidal wave of fear that has been cresting at the edges of her sanity. “Am I?” she asks. Uncurling herself she faces him fully and brings the hand he’s laid upon her to her face, not bothering for once to hide the trembling in her limbs. “Am I mortal, Thancred? Or am I—” the words tangles on her tongue, sharp and painful. “—Ascian? Lightwarden? Do I still look mortal to you ?”

The world has thrown so many things at her and she had bested them all, had overcome their attempts at taking her life. She’d chalked it up to Hydaelyn’s blessing before, but now with the knowledge that her Mother was a primal —and she’d believed Emet-Selch on this, the truth settling in her breast as if she’d always known—then what did that make Her Warrior of Light? 

The true question lies on the tip of her tongue, unwilling to be spoken: Is a tempered, light filled girl still mortal, Thancred?

She’d only taken his hand in a moment of uncertainty, in a desire for someone else to feel her skin and tell her that the blood within was warm and not the sizzling heat of light. But he moves his fingers over her cheek and then to the corners of her eyes, gentle in a way she’s never seen before. “You do,” he says quietly. She’s trembling before him, heart beating like a bird’s and pupils blown wide in fear. “You’re still you, Lia.” 

His fingers ghost over her lips and for a second it feels as if time stops, as if they’re the only two in the world awake in the new-old and brilliant night. She doesn’t remember the last time she’d let herself be this vulnerable with another, had let them see the fears which drew breath within the pit of her stomach and crawled through her bloodstream. It almost makes her sob in inexplicable relief—she swallows down the feelings rising in her chest and closes her eyes as a few tears fall anyway, caught only by Thancred’s other hand rising up to sweep them away. 

He lets her collect herself in silence, until her eyes are open again and she’s staring into his own. Lia’s lips part beneath his feather-light touch and she can’t help the shaky inhale, the feeling that gets stuck somewhere between her lungs and her tongue. “Promise, Thancred?” She whispers against his skin, the calluses on his fingers rough against her lips. “Do you promise me that I am me ? That you won’t ever let me become a monster?”

She hadn’t had to speak the words with Ardbert. He had already known, had seen the thoughts through the emotions grappling on her face when she had woken up blinded and in light-fuelled agony. But Ardbert was gone—had never really been there—and she cannot expect those not of her own soul to recognize what she needs, to know the things to say when she hides her fears so well.

If she wanted the weight on her shoulders to lift—truly, eagerly wanted it—then she had to be the one to reach out. To bring down the walls of stone and steel around her heart and recognize the figures of the Scions burning bright around her, willing to walk with her until her last breath.

In the darkness and the starlight of the night, the expression on Thancred’s face shifts. He looks as serious as he did before they braved the fires of the ghostly Amaurot, when he thanked her for all she’d done for him and vowed to always have her back. “I promise,” he says and sweeps the pads of his fingers over her bottom lip, before moving to gently cradle her chin in a reassuring grip. “And if you ever doubt it—if you ever think that you are anything but the kind, brave person you are—then look to me.” His other hand cards through her hair now and the tears are coming again, falling fast over her cheeks and onto the stone beneath them. 

“I will be right there at your side, reminding you again and again.”

Something in her chest breaks and she exhales, leans further into his warmth and grip on her. “Okay,” she says, closing her eyes and letting the tears fall freely now. “I will. I will .”

[zbexx-blog]

#TBT ...Theros Revelry💚❤ (Video from @magicesports on Twitter featuring @missmariapants & @zbexx) • • • For those of you who didn't watch #PTPhoenix or see this clip on Twitter last Friday, please join me in my endless dancing & revelery~I cannot promise that no spinning wheels were harmed in the making of this video. 😂 #gallia #galliaoftheendlessdance #mtg #MagicTheGathering #mtgcosplay #therosbeyonddeath #mtgworlds (at Phoenix Convention Center) https://www.instagram.com/p/B8h4nLzHjrn/?igshid=1x2834f7h8rew

[windwardstar]

Printed out all the spells I had added to my spell.list over the past few months.

Spent the session dismantling traps to get to treasure. Then found the evil dude's (who we had spent the previous session fighting) circle of true resurrection and wrecked that.

Set off a trap and went down a water slide but instead of a slide it was the stair trap thing and water it was oil and there were fireballs the whole way. The potion of fire resistance was still in effect and I had been at full health so i was fine.

Got a gate cube..

And leveled up. Lvl 16, 3 rogue 13 bard. Took project image. I can now bug people 500 miles away with a copy of myself.

Oh. Also gave the bar lady a platinum piece and said drinks were on me, spread the word the king is dead. While someone from.my party got in contact with people to help install a new government. Naturally there is chaotic revelery.

And our party is leaving town in the morning.

[plusultramemes]

*Sero walks into Tokoyami’s room*

Sero: Hey dude do you want pepper- wtf are you doing

Tokoyami: Revelery in the dark

Sero: You’re just sitting here staring at me in the dark

Tokoyami: You came in here for a reason right you’re interrupting my revelery

Sero: Do you even know what revelery means

Tokoyami: ...

*dramatic pause*

Tokoyami: If you came in here to ask about the pizza then get me pepperoni

Sero: oh. Ok then go back to your revelery (how tf does he even know about the pizza)

After the door is closed Tokoyami powers up a GameCube and starts playing smash

Tokoyami: revelery

[your-fave-is-bi]

Flowers

Helios-33, Exo Titan and veteran of the Crucible, arrives at the Tower holding a bouquet of bright flowers. He greets Tess and Kadi with a quick wave as he heads towards Banshee’s booth. 

Banshee-44 is lost in blueprints and materials, his transponder comm blinks its light, signaling he has unread messages. Helios smiles to himself, knowing the type of mood his partner gets in when he finds an exciting new project to work on. A soft knock against the counter of his vendor booth shakes Banshee out of his hunched position. There’s a few moments where his optic lights blink, processing. It’s real cute, and makes Helios smile even wider. “Hey baby.” he says with an ever growing smile on his face. “Hey you.” Banshee smiles at him, and leans over the counter to hold Helios’ cheeks as he kisses him. Helios’ unoccupied hand comes up to hold Banshee’s elbow, and they stand forehead to forehead for a few seconds, just smiling at each other. 

Helios is the first to lean back, pushing up the bouquet of flowers in between the two of them. “Brought you flowers.” Banshee accepts the bouquet from him with a wide smile and heads up to a cabinet at the back of his space. He opens up a couple of cabinet doors, and is met with a post-it note in Helios’ handwriting. “Flower vase is under the counter.” Banshee reads it out loud, after which he nods. “Right. Yes.” He picks up a pen nearby and adds it to the tally marks on the note, before closing the cabinet and heading for the counter. “What are these for anyway?” he asks while he’s taking the vase out, “Not that i mind getting flowers from you without a reason.” Banshee adds after unwrapping the bouquet.

With a smile, Helios extends his hand. “Come on, let me show you something.” Banshee steps out from his booth and lets Helios lead him towards the courtyard. Banshee watches the tree blossoming, follows the pink petals falling down, with a gentle smile on his face. Helios squeezes his hand, Banshee squeezes it back. “It’s the Revelery.” Banshee says with a smile. “Forgot the time again.” He adds, more to himself than to Helios. He in turn, puts his arm around Banshee’s shoulders and holds him close. “Happy Revelery.” He presses a kiss to Banshee’s cheek as they walk back to Banshee’s store. 

They chat about Helios’ patrols and time away, about Banshee’s newest project and what data he’d need for it. Before Helios heads out again for a scheduled debrief of his latest strikes, a hand on his wrist holds him in place. “Wait here.” Banshee tells him, as he walks out from the store again. Helios watches as his partner heads to one of the flower pots and then comes back with his hands behind his back. Helios smiles as he watches Banshee’s hands stick the freshly plucked flower in between the buckles holding his chest armor up. Between the feathers, and the shining bronze shader of the metal armor, now rests a soft purple flower. Banshee lets his hands rest on the chest armor as he looks up to the smitten look on Helios’ face.

“Happy Revelry, babe.”