#takes place before the actual story

[romances-not-tragedies]

waves and kisses

Ramona was giggling, but it was not because of the coconut wine she had imbibed earlier. The reason was right beside her as they sat on the rubble of what used to be part of the seaside fortress built centuries ago by the Spaniards to protect the town from Dutch and Muslim pirates. She could hear the chirping of the crickets and the soft waves of the Lamon Bay, the crescent moon shining silvery bright over the coast, the waters, and the outline of the Alabat Island.

"Wow," she said as she was watching the scene. She could never get tired of it, she thought. "It has been too long since I have seen this at night."

"You would have thought that you would have forgotten it after four years," Joaquin rejoined with a smile.

Ramona nodded. "Of course I do. To be fair, I do see the Huron River whenever I could at the weekends."

"So you can be assured there is water?" joked Joaquin.

Ramona gave Joaquin a mock-indignant glare before she broke into another smile again. "Well, maybe you're right." She smoothed the skirt of her lilac dress and looked at the flowers on her lap. "It does feel good to be home again, even if sometimes my parents can be a little overbearing."

"Why?" Joaquin asked, his brows scrunching at her. "What do they want you from now?"

Ramona did not know how to answer. She did not know how to tell him that she had caught her parents conversing with a tall man with sunken hazel eyes and a slightly aggressive aura that she did not like. She did not feel at ease with Rodrigo Carvajal, who owned a haberdashery business both in San Vicente Ferrer and Manila and known to be a maverick in the tailoring field. He was the kind of man who any maiden would swoon over, but not her. He made her skin crawl and spend more time out of home.

Especially tonight, when she was with her friends at the courthouse where she was working as a courthouse clerk.

It had happened that she ran into Joaquin, who was looking handsome with his trimmed mustache and his best-looking suit. She thought that butterflies were fluttering in her stomach and that a silly smile was forming on her lips.

"Buenas tardes, Señor Tibayan," she had greeted him with a flirtatious tone that she never intended, to which Joaquin responded with a greeting bow with an arm flourish.

"Buenas tardes, Señorita Velasco," he responded. "We meet again."

They had ended up talking about their day (tiring, as usual), the weather (there might be a storm coming, hence the nip in the air), and a little bit of town politics (the newcomer rumored to be challenging the current presidente municipal). As they talked, Ramona found herself feeling secure and grounded little by little, his voice like an anchor in a stormy sea. And even when they had left her friend's place, her head buzzing, the solid presence of Joaquin steadying her as they walked to the coast they had loved so dearly.

"I just want my parents to leave me be," Ramona responded. "I want them to let me decide what I want in my life. I cannot always accommodate them with whatever they want without a threat hanging over my head."

She felt Joaquin's hand over her own. His hand was rough and callused, but it was real, a comfort in her heart and soul. "I'm sorry," he said. "I wish that I can be of help to you. You do not have to feel bad for wanting to put yourself first." Then he shook his head, and said, "Well, it was rich, coming from me."

Ramona shook her head at that. "Don't feel bad for that, Quinito," she assured him. "You are trying to help me."

"I'm glad," he said. "Look, you are smiling."

"Me?" she asked, disbelieving.

Joaquin tilted his head like he was observing her further and went on, "Earlier, you are trying to look and feel light, but something is worrying you. It is holding you back, and you do not want it to affect the mood. But this is not simply me speaking as your friend. I am concerned, though."

Tears began to prickle at the corner of her eyes, but she shut her eyes to keep them at bay. Taking deep breaths, she faced her dear friend again and said, "Thank you for being there. I am glad to have you, you know." Then she leaned to him and kissed his cheek.

When she had pulled away, she caught the burgeoning flush on his cheeks. She felt embarrassed and rushed to say, "Oh no, I'm sorry, I didn't realize that I--"

"Hush, Monang," Joaquin gently cut her off, and his smile lit up his face and Ramona thought that her heart stuttered. "I mean, well, I do want to kiss you, you know. If you will allow me?"

She nodded. "Yes," she answered, almost like a whisper. She held her breath as he gently slid a hand on her cheek, his eyes never leaving her face. He carefully leaned his face towards her and she felt the brush of his lips against hers.

Ramona could feel something shifting. It must have been inside, as she could feel delight slowly simmering in her, slowly heating her skin. She scooted closer to him, placed her hands on his strong shoulders. He placed another hand on another cheek and kept giving her chaste brush of lips.

But it was not enough. Ramona shoved him closer to her and began to change the pace of the kiss. Her kisses were like the slow coming and going of the waves of the bay, and he groaned against her mouth, sending thrills down her spine.

Joaquin's hands left her face and then made its way on her waist, pulled her flush against his torso. She hadn't thought how hard and solid he was against her, and the thought of his body against hers--all her thoughts fled save for the thought of Joaquin with her.

She moaned when Joaquin deepened the kiss, and she slid her hand through his hair, teased the dark locks with her fingers. Sloppy her response might have been, it did not stop Joaquin from kissing her. She had felt her soul on fire. This man might have still been the gangly boy who would make her feel safe and secure and make her smile, but he had grown so much and she found herself wanting him. Needing him.

Somehow, he was that one man who could set her soul on fire and still live.

Reluctantly, Joaquin broke the kiss and she found herself staring at him. Swollen lips, glazed dark eyes, pink cheeks, and all she could think of was this was theirs no matter what happened.

"Wow, that was..." Joaquin began before he trailed, lost for words.

Ramona nodded. "I know," she agreed before they both giggled, something they had been doing since meeting as children. And it was after Joaquin almost spooked her and her pet horse.

"It is wonderful," she said demurely. No, not wonderful, my mind is blown, she wanted to add but she did not want to rush too much.

Joaquin gave her that silly crooked smile she had loved so much. Her heart was beating madly again, but like before, he had made her feel secure.

And at that moment, she knew that he was the one for her.

[iguessthisisanewobsession]

Tim was four days into a sleep deficit so he felt that to say that this predicament was his fault was a bit of a reach.

For it to be his fault he would have had to cognizant of the last 16 hours.

All he wanted to do was take a power nap in the nearest closest durring the Waynetech gala but nooo Bruce had to be taken hostage by the Joker.

So he did what he thought would work best and shoved uncle Clark into the nearest emergency bat storage and told him to suit up.

Maybe he looked a bit more confused than normal but they didn’t need a reporter they needed Batman!

That being said wasn’t uncle Clark supposed to be off-world?

Oh no.

———————

Jack honestly had no clue what was happening for the last six months so when he was told to be Batman he merely just shrugged as the frankly exhausted teen left him to his own.

With his son turning out to be part ghost to the government hunting down his said son and having to move shop halfway across the continent.

This might as well happen.

Grinning like a kid on Christmas, Jack plopped on the finishing touch.

“Oh Danno is not going to believe this!”

Raising a cloaked arm with a flourish Jack struck a pose.

“Alrighty Jack enough messing around! Time to save the party, Fenton style!

Shifting his feet, Jack took a deep breath before smoothing his face the best he could. After all, couldn’t have a smiling Batman! Before walking out the room and taking running leap through the wall to the streets of Gotham before grappling to the nearest building.

[sonknuxadow]

anybody else ever think about how knuckles and shadow are both the last of their kind but how they ended up in that situation and their feelings surrounding it are completely different. idk i just think its interesting

[pepperpixel]

“put me on a pedestal and i’ll only disappoint you

tell me i’m exceptional, and i promise to exploit you

gimme all your money, and i’ll make some origami honey!

i think you’re a joke!!! …but i don’t find you very

fuuuuuuu~nyyy”

More tagr art!!! Assorted stuff this time! Featuring some cute chibi stuff. Some solo gaz’s, a lil uhhh. Comic of an altercation.. and a very belated Halloween pic I started drawing last Halloween and didnt finish lol. Also featuring lyrics from pedestrian at best cuz that song rllly rlly fits my ver of tak lol.

[book-of-legends]

Lief @Sirius: "So, that funky little orb on your chest. What is it? It's so mysterious." He was leaning in close just to stare at it. Perhaps way too close.

"Perhaps you should learn personal space." The tiny cat gave a puff as he removed his paw from Lief's face. His tails were swaying in irritation, he wasn't expecting his previous bully to return so quickly. Weren't they just here a moment ago tormenting him with insults and 'nerd' comments?

Sirius cautiously floated the item towards Lief to examine, he however didn't seem very comfortable with the idea of them being anywhere near it. "It means alot to me. It's the only thing I have from the place I was born." He let the orb fall back into his paws, and just as soon as it did it lit up in a bright green glow. "I know someone gave it to me when I was just a kitten, long before my mother Lunala adopted me. It brings me a lot of comfort so I carry it around, and sometimes..."

The orb gave another glow as he spoke, "And... well, that they're still there... waiting." He carefully placed it back on his cape, before looking towards Lief.

"I wouldn't call it mysterious by any means... But um."

Sirius cheerfully smiled. "Even if I'm not quite sure myself what it is. Maybe one day I'll finally figure it out. But for now, it's nothing more than storage for my magic... and something that glows on occasion."

[bambeebirdie]

This is for @bluepeachstudios ‘s Ghost in a Shell. It’s really good you should read it.

I looked at exactly one picture of Jupiter Jim and went “yeah this should be enough to draw him.” I will not be answering if it actually was

Have some bonus content under the cut!

And sketches

(I love any character who can say “I don’t want to go back to prison” it’s like the funniest thing to me)

[non-un-topo]

Just got a wave of affection for my horse OCs... as in, the random horses that appear in my fics

[painted-bees]

aw haha he’s come close, lets be real.

Initially, he couldn’t just...stop playing...because violin’s the only thing he’s good at. But then post-secondary school made him think that, actually, he’s pretty shit at it. And even then, he still couldn’t divorce himself from music. And really, it’s because that’s what people know him for, it’s what they expect of him, and if he’s not making music--there’s is very little else he can offer. If he stops calling himself a musician, if he proverbially grinds his violin down into shrapnel--then he’s just a guy. One with no real direction.

And it’s a bit like--how badly do your legs have to hurt you before you decide to amputate them both above the knee? They walk fine, they get you around, but boy they hurt. When is it decided that they just gotta go? Or--do you hope that eventually the pain goes away because you remember a time when they actually didn’t hurt all that much and running was fun.

Buuut....ever since Magritte moved in with him, he’s found himself picking up the violin more and more often with a certain curiosity-driven eagerness. She got some strange ideas, strange processes and an even stranger relationship with music that he can’t help but feed into--collaborate with. Hell, he could produce the most hideous, head-empty, dying-cat notes, and she’d still take that awful sound and gleefully find a way to do something interesting with it. Kinda irresistible, enjoyable, addictive, like a musical gatchapon lmao

[gohandinhand]

one word prompt : resisting (have a very nice day !)

thanks for the prompt! here's a little thing to kick off dragonrider au

//

Beatrice watched from the audience tiers, eager eyes and still face, as the candidates marched across the hot sands, faces nearly as white as their robes. An egg, a larger one towards the edge of the hatching grounds, rocked violently, and the low hum of the dragons grew louder. The nattering of her father and the other lord holders seated nearby ceased as the crescendo grew loud enough to vibrate through their bones. As one the eggs began rocking and then, suddenly, the humming stopped. In the disquieting silence the crack of the first shell was audible, and then the air filled with the squawking and crooning of dragonets as they fought free of their casings, glistening and awkward. 

The first was free of its encumbrance, staggering as it tried to balance its overlarge head atop the gangly body and long neck. The candidates ⁠— looking so young under the weight of their apprehension, though Beatrice reminded herself they were at least equal to her own sixteen turns ⁠— stood still and tense as the dragonet lurched towards them. It fell face-first into the sand at the feet of a tall dark lad who knelt, reached out a hand to help the little brown balance and then froze, staring into the whorling rainbow eyes. The first Impression of the day was made. 

Beatrice’s own eyes were locked on the scene, filled with the sort of deep longing she was so practiced at ignoring, as the new partners crooned softly back and forth, the Istan lad ⁠— judging by the weave of his sandals ⁠— wore a plainly exultant expression as he caressed the wavering head and stroked along the damp wings. So fixated was she, she hardly noted the sounds of more eggs cracking open, spilling their occupants into the heat of the sands. 

It was only seconds that she allowed herself to be caught in their secondhand elation, but it was enough to miss most of the action; all the eggs had hatched nearly at once, and there was only one little green and one bronze left searching for their bond. She heard the excited cries as the green Impressed but continued watching the bronze with a frown as it paced through the candidates, mewling piteously yet butting candidates out of his path, clearly still searching for just the right match. 

“Whatever is the matter with the thing?” Beatrice’s father questioned imperiously. 

“He must want someone not on the Ground,” a rider sitting in the row behind them answered. 

“Oh, he’s going to hurt himself!” It was out of Beatrice’s mouth before she could catch herself, only just keeping to her seat as the little dragon made for the steps that led up the tiers. 

The little thing did hurt itself, slipping off the first step and banging his chin on the hard stone steps, nearly wrenching the wing that lay trapped between the seats. He let out a sharp cry of pain that was echoed much more loudly by Ruth, still brooding over her clutch near the entrance of the grounds. 

“Turn around!” Beatrice called out, now unable to stop herself flying up and towards the hatchling ⁠— ignoring, for the first time in her life, her father’s stern command to sit silently and cease drawing attention to herself. It was not by choice; Beatrice found herself so panic-stricken for the hatchling’s safety that she fell, sliding down several steps before her feet found purchase. She heard the crack of her elbow against the stone but did not even feel it, although she would later. 

She plummeted down the remaining steps, using her leg to cushion the bronze’s chin from another harsh contact with the stone and reached out to unhook the still-soft wing from the groove of the endcap seat. The hatchling crooned at her, the whorls of its eyes spinning from distressed red to blue and purple of love and devotion. 

It was Ruth, bugling exultantly, that startled her into motionlessness. 

“I can’t!” she gasped at the little creature. She glanced about for confirmation - her father, glaring at her from further up in the stands, the Weyrleaders closing in on the scene with looks of consternation and amusement. “I can’t!” she says louder, “I’m not allowed to Impress! I’m not an eligible candidate!” 

“No use resisting now, Lady Beatrice,” Shannon says from beside her, Weyrleader Vincent glowering over her shoulder. “The dragon is never wrong, and it’s you he’s chosen.” 

With one last startled look at the Weyrwoman, Beatrice turned back to the little dragon and met his eyes for the first time… and found herself lost in his regard. 

A feeling of complete joy suffused her; complete acceptance, affection, tenderness, and unalloyed respect and admiration flooded her, heart mind and soul. Never again would Beatrice be alone in her desires; never would she lack a defender, a confidante, one who sees every fingersbreadth of her mind and heart, every atom of longing she harbors. How wonderful was Beatrice, the thought encroached into her ruminations, how kind, how clever, how thoughtful and brave! 

“Silly darling, whatever have you done?” Beatrice crooned to the baby as she gathered his head, nearly the same size as her torso, into her arms. He blinked at her sadly, aware of her lingering distress, and she scratched soothingly along his eye ridges in forgiveness. His wing hurt, he reminded her, and carefully she lifted it from where it was fouled and folded it back along his dorsal ridge, obligingly attending to his other eye ridge when he nudged at her. 

Wonderingly, she looked up, unerringly finding Shannon’s grinning face once again. 

“He says his name is Path!”

[artinandwritin]

would love to listen to the promises promises playlist if you were ever comfortable sharing it!! You know I love playlists loll

OH yeah ofc!! Here you go!!!

I tried to put the songs a bit in order but bc a lot of these are not just related to plotbeats or character moments but are just in there bc they help with my writing mood as well, that turned out to be harder than i thought lmao

Hope you enjoy tho!! <33

[bassguitarinablackt-shirt]

Duo ask, for whoever you like =)

😨- What's their greatest fear?

doing this for salveria and mathew!!!

salveria, about mathew: i think hes scared he's not enough to deserve me and alex's friendship, or that we're gonna leave him or something, i mean...the fear is understandable but i hope he can eventually see that its total bullshit

mathew, about salveria: i honestly dont even think she has any fears, if she does she's great at hiding them

[arklay]

DIANA x ALBERT WESKER / template.

[waywardsalt]

mmmgh

[disturbnot]

of course, same as ever, the itch to actually write gets into me on the same day i have social obligations after work. tonight, visiting dad and my sister for pizza night. maybe i won't be out for very long? having energy when i get back, not quite so easily guaranteed. we shall see. currently juggling metas aplenty — how the aura works and how ash is tangled up in it; the thousand-year-long and most fabled history of pallet house; more abstract tirades on ash's personal philosophies and how he copes with burgeoning immortality; how ash wound up in bed with the kalian technocracy; how the whole gang copes being completely fatherless, etc. speaking of which, halfway considering introducing other characters in ash's canon ( e.g., gary, misty, delia, etc. ) as guest muses — until such time as i get some more ... formal takers, anyway. we shall see, we shall see.

[xbraveheartx]

Gently considers... Carmeo/Promeo discord server... hmmm...

[killjoy-prince]

If i had a nickel every time i watched an anime where Shun'ichi Toki voiced a character and sung either the opening or ending song for it, I'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot but interesting that it happened twice