#FEELZ
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Tal vez no tengamos muchas cosas en común, pero cariño, ¿quién ha dicho que para armar un rompecabezas se necesitan piezas iguales?
-Feelz
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Hellooooo ^^ If you're still taking drawing prompts, how about Alyra Mahariel with Morrigan and a pose of your choice?
(Have a lovely day!!!!!)
Hello there! Yes, I was! :3
Here you go, it's A2, but we started with angst and we'll end up in angst (sorry):
There lies my passion, hidden
There lies my love
I'll hide it under a blanket
Lull it to sleep
(I remembered now the song by Bjork I was looking today for the 9 ship songs. I'll correct that post too, but it's Hidden Place.)
Some Witch Hunt scene, I'm planning a bigger illustration. So, basically, we're about to part. Morrigan through the mirror, Alyra... Alyra stays. One year before she would have jumped, now... Now she's the Warden-Commander and the Arlessa. She can't. *angst*
#dragon age#dragon age origins#morrigan x mahariel#morrigan x warden#dragon age witch hunt#da fanart#da art#dao#timelapse#greypetrel#alyra mahariel#FEELZ#don't worry they'll see each other again Morrigan will find in her pocket the spare key of Vigil's Keep. Just in case.#Someone will order the giant mirror to be brought up in her chambers. You know#she has a big wardrobe now she needs a big mirror u.u
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I was lost in a place no one wants to be
Trying hard to convince my heart to believe
You were there all along, I just couldn't see
that there's a love in your arm that's waiting for me
Out of my head into your arm (part 2)
Part-1 / Part-2
#ipkknd#iss pyaar ko kya naam doon#arnav#khushi#arnav and khushi#arnav singh raizada#khushi kumari gupta#he really likes carrying her in his arm#as if she weighs nothing#she is his BABY#and not noticing the first and last gifs have same outfit#FEELZ#these scenes have such a domesticity in them
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day2: dating start!
self indulgence
maybe we can still get along... even as enemies.
#sansxyouweek2023#dusttale#self indulgence#idk#it's therapeutic#i like him#and im learning to like myself too#so i guess that means we're not completely enemies now?#feelz#i guess?#i don't know#thought a lot about what would be a good date#I dunno#it felt right#guess this is enemies to lovers now?#remains to be seen#i do NOT trust this man's smooth words
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i love you to the summer and back
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A/N- This one takes place when Lucy gets stabbed during TCS. Enjoy:) The italicised parts of the dialogue have all been taken from The Creeping Shadow by Jonathan Stroud.
Jessica was visiting him again.
She always danced in his mind when he couldn't fall asleep. His mind would be running on overdrive and she'd come and haunt his thoughts and poof! He'd be distracted. She featured in his dreams as well, how she was in life. Vivacious, energetic, smart, kind and alive. Not how he'd found her that horrible evening. Blue, swollen and very dead.
If only he'd come to help her when she asked him to, maybe things would have been different.
Maybe she'd be alive.
Lockwood aggressively fluffed up his pillow and flopped down into a more comfortable position. This was NOT a rabbit hole he should be going down when he was trying to sleep.
He closed his eyes and thought of Lucy. No matter what was happening in his life, thinking about Lucy always calmed him down. She was his anchor to the mortal world (quite literally). Without her, he felt he would’ve given in completely to his reckless nature a long time ago and fulfilled his desire to meet his family before his time. When she was around, the hole in his heart felt full. Without her he felt-
There was a shrill sound that cut through the night (and his thoughts). It was the Portland Row bell that was reserved for clients. He frowned in the dark, who the hell was calling on them at this hour? They had had a relatively easy case that night, dealing with a Type One, so both he and George had enjoyed a quiet night and had hit the sack early. Clearly, the universe was hellbent on disturbing their peaceful night. He had half a mind to just ignore the unexpected (and unwelcome) visitor and to deal with them in the morning, but good manners prevailed.
He got up, putting on his bathrobe (which substituted as his dressing gown) and shuffled out of his room, onto the landing. Curse the bell. If it hadn’t rung then he would be-what would he be doing exactly? Lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking about Lucy.
He reached the front door, and grabbed a spare rapier from the rack next to it. Whoever it was a client, a ghost or a random murderer on the loose, he wouldn’t meet them without a weapon at hand.
He undid the locks and pointing his rapier at the door cautiously opened it, swinging it inwards on its great, creaky hinges.
At first he thought there was no one there, just a swirl of inky darkness. Then, gradually he saw a figure standing just beyond the “Stay beyond the line” sign. A figure that looked remarkably like-
“Lucy?”
He could hardly believe his eyes. He was sure he was dreaming. But there she was. Lucy Carlyle. Standing on his porch in the middle of the night…looking exhausted and (he squinted) hurt.
“Lockwood-” she started, and then began to sway.
He stepped over the threshold, crossing the distance between them and wrapped his arm around her. “Lucy, what’s happened? You’re shaking. Come on. Come on inside.” he said, ushering her inside the house, and leading her towards the kitchen. She said something about not wanting to disturb him and he almost scoffed in her face at that;- she occupied a lot of space in his mind, she was beyond the point of ‘disturbing him’. He dismissed those absurd notions immediately and took her to the kitchen.
“Would you like some tea, Lucy?” he asked, busing himself with the kettle. He turned around and saw her, collapsed on a chair. She hadn't registered a word of what he’d said. It was only then that he noticed the dried blood on her arm.
He froze. Time stood still. It seemed as if it were only him and Lucy with her bloodied arm. His brain went haywire and all he could think about was the fact that she was standing in his kitchen with her injured arm. The congealed blood seemed to taunt him, as if to say ‘This was also probably your fault. Why did you let her go?’.
“What is this?” he asked her, in a slightly choked voice. He couldn’t quite explain the jumble of thoughts hurtling through his brain at the speed of light.
“It’s nothing. Just a cut.” she said, dismissively.
Like hell it was.
He knelt down beside her and slowly, with the utmost care, pulled up her sleeve. A deep cut ran along the length of her forearm, from her elbow to her wrist. It was gushing blood, most of which had dried up but some of which had not.
He drew in a shaky breath, this was definitely caused by a knife. There were no two ways about that. Who the actual hell had hurt Lucy like that? And why?
“A knife made this, Lucy. Who-” he began and then stopped. She probably hadn’t even gotten it treated. Questions and possible plans for murder could wait.
He told her so, and then went to get George. They had to fix her up and then plot gruesome deaths for whoever it was that had tried to hurt Lucy.
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Even though it was an extremely dreadful occasion and he really wished they had been reunited again in better circumstances, he couldn’t help the little ball of happiness from blooming in his chest. She was here. She was alive. It was just like earlier-before she left the company-the three of them discussing cases and theories. As he joined in on the discussion about Harold Mailer and the Winkmans, he felt that familiar spark of electricity flare up inside him. They had a new goal in sight-get the mouldy old skull back and take revenge on the men. And of course, helping Lucy. Because at the end of the day, that’s always what it was about with him;- being there for Lucy.
He gazed at her and smiled peacefully. His missing piece was back.
A/N- Thank you for reading! Hope you liked it!
May post the same on my collection of one-shots about Locklyle on Fanfiction.net
It's called Moments in Time and my username is MissPotts01. Check it out if you'd like:)
#books#books & libraries#fiction#writing practice#ficlet#lockwood and lucy#lockwood and co#locklyle#missing moments#anthony lockwood#angst#cute#author is sleep deprived#i love these two#feelz#fanfiction#jonathan stroud#lucy carlyle#the creeping shadow
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Por favor, permítame conocerle en este plano hasta que sus hilos de seda se tornen blancos, cual destello decora el cielo nocturno con un breve impacto.
-Feelz
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feelz- lil peep
#1990#girlblogging#lil peep#yung bruh#lil tracy#feelz#song#music#2018#2019#2017#goth aesthetic#ghost#ghost girl#ghost boy#late night thoughts
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Mr. & Mrs. Raizada
#ipkknd#arnav singh raizada#khushi kumari gupta#barun sobti#sanaya irani#re-watch inspired me to make gifs#never going to move on from them#khushi had star in her eyes looking at arnav#they are each others universe#ab kya bolu#so beautifuuuul#so addictive#can't keep me eyes away from them#it's a almost 13 years old show damn it#you should move on#how he just touched her everywhere in pretence of dancing#so hot still so endearing#something magical happened here#like the hair strand stuck in his beard#FEELZ#and i am drowning#ab na jaa#iss pyaar ko kya naam doon#arnav and khushi#arshi
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First day working in the office and uh...yeah I would like to go back to working remotely ASAP.
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The road to the grave is straight as an arrow
I’m just staying around to sing your song
—
Some post-canon warden Jowan feels
#yes this is about#jowan/uldred#the ship sails no matter what#jowan#dragon age origins#dragon age#warden levyn#lyrics : lacquer - katatonia#traditional art#digital editing#post canon#feelz
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[WRAP] for cullen/aisling? ❤️
Oooh this got me so indecisive between ANGST and FLUFF. Decided on the ANGST. Some hurt/comfort after Before the Dawn. ☺️
From this list, if anyone wants to ask another prompt!
[ WRAP ]: when sitting astride a horse/motorcycle/etc. together, the sender reaches back, takes the receiver’s wrists, and gently pulls their arms around the sender’s waist in an embrace designed to keep the receiver safe, despite feeling remarkably intimate.
Nobody wants to talk, still.
Three days after they made their way out of Dumat’s Temple, the party’s been closed off in a tense silence, speaking just out of necessity, when months of travelling and camping and fighting together are proving to be not enough to just guess movements and requests with but a nod of the head. Even Dorian seems to be at a loss for words, and Varric lost all that he had left after a couple of attempts at jokes.
It has been… Worse than the Emprise du Lion, and that was saying something. The extreme temperature changes of the desert surely aren’t helping, as it osn’t the fact that resources were limited and Cassandra was adamant in rationing, since even Aisling couldn’t work out much to find good, reliable sources of waters beside the wells that marked the road back south east.
Aisling is trying to keep up and stay strong, functional and efficient as a person and as a leader all the time. She slept little, and when she did, it was on the saddle, silently handling the reins to the Seeker when the map and their journey there promised a good deal of nothing for the next hours of night riding to avoid the extreme heath. But, she has been affected too, by what they saw and read, and more than anything by what Maddox told them. And to add to everything that was weighing on her mind, Cullen… Has not taken it well either. And how could he, after all? One thing was discovering that the order that was once your whole life has gone mad and sold itself to the last wannabe evil overlord, for reasons you can vaguely understand, another… Another is knowing that a person you knew experimented on people who were loyal to and trusted him so much.
She knows him well, she knows it’s a lot to take in and digest, and so she didn’t pressure him, slipping into professional mode easily and doing more than she technically would have to, so to ease the burden off his shoulders a little and leave him time to think.
By now, they’re setting up camp in the outskirt of an oasis, the sky paling in the approaching dawn, and Cullen’s just… Not returned from a hour, after going to “check the perimeter” on foot. Aisling’s worried, and doesn’t listen to Varric suggesting her to leave him be. She just hops on her horse, patting his neck with affection and gently asking him to please endure a little more after the whole night of travel, and spurs him on to the direction he went.
It’s not difficult to find him, really, staring at some old ruins half buried in the sand at the other end of the oasis, standing in the middle of the small circle of crumbled columns after he checked for trapdoors and dungeons, no doubt. There’s no veilfire torch waiting to be lit, no runes or weird inscriptions. Whatever that building was, it is long forgotten.
She doesn’t even dismount: all she does is having Little Brother slow down, approaching him from the side. He still hates when she just walks her horse on stone pavements, but for once he doesn’t complain.
“Something noteworthy?” She asks, simply, in the most neutral tone she can muster. It comes out as tired, but there’s really no point in masking, not with him.
“No. Just palms and stones.” He replies, equally tired, and from more than the long ride in the night.
She humms to signal she heard him, and just leans on her side, offering him a hand.
“Let’s get back.”
Cullen doesn’t say anything, there’s no need to. He just sighs, nodding and turning to take the offered hand. She slips her foot away from the stirrup, slipping a little forward to give him more ease to mount and space to sit, and hushing the horse when he does and the weight on the back adds up. It’s not far and Isa’ma’lin is strong, they can make it.
Commander safely on the saddle, she shakes her head when he offers her the stirrup back, and clicks her tongue twice to start walking back, easily guiding the horse around and outside the ruins. She keeps a walking pace, not wanting to overdo it and, honestly, taking the chance for some moments closer to the man she loves. It’s been a while and she misses him, with everything she really would need him close, but won’t pressure him into anything. So, she takes what he can give, even if it’s just a slow ride back to camp on the same horse.
“You’re tired.” He notices.
“You too.”
“Want to- Ah, give me the reins?”
“And guide my horse? No way, good sir. We both like you, but don’t push it.” She chuckles, tiredly and forcing it up just a little. But… “I didn’t mean to-”
She corrects right after, realising it could sound bad or give the wrong message, right now and then. It’s just a stupid matter of pride, really.
“I know.” He guffaws, in the same tired way, before the conversation dies again.
It’s like taking a breath, in the quiet of the incoming dawn, stars quickly disappearing and sky vaguely turning lighter, lilac to the east. She pulls on the rein: if Cullen laughed at her joke, maybe he won’t mind if she takes the longer route back, not cutting through the palm trees and shrubs but circling the oasis. Slower, but it’ll allow for a view of the dawn on the distant mountains. He doesn’t say anything as she turns the horse left and reassures a mildly disapproving snort from the equine with a dismissive “Hush, you bicoloured doofus!”.
By the time they reach the outskirts of the oasis and Aisling turns the gelding east again, directed to camp and facing the sunrise, the Commander on her back clears his throat to speak, gently resting his hands on her hips, very tentatively as if it could break her. The elf doesn’t react in any way, in a silent “go on”, and after a moment, he speaks.
“About the Temple…”
“It was difficult for you, wasn’t it?”
“No! I mean – yes, but… It’s not what I wanted to say.”
She hums, waiting for him to collect the right words, put them in order, displaying each of them as he would the pieces on a chessboard. He always does, when he has to say something important, and she learnt to give him his spaces.
“About- About Maddox… Aisling, if I ever-”
Oh, she knows that voice. He stutters and fumbles on his words when he’s embarrassed, but that broken, ragged tone is the one of “I’m flailing myself”, is the one of any lyrium withdrawal or any burst of regret over minor things that aren’t under his control, as much as he tries. She shakes her head, decisively. She wouldn’t have any.
“No, venhan.”
“Let me-”
“No, Cullen. I know what you’re saying and- And, no. You won’t.”
“I did.”
“You won’t, not anymore, not with this regret.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know. Take your time. I’m here.”
She leaves the rein on the withers, to sneak her hands slightly back and close fingers on his wrists. Slowly and delicately, so he has time to oppose the movement, she moves them forward, arms and bust slipping towards her in the movement, as she brings both hands to hug her waist, leaning back into him for good measure and not caring if he’s still wearing armour nor if the fur on his collar tickles her ears and her neck. She sighs contently, as he slowly accepts the hug for what it is and brings her closer, spreading legs further and tucking her in, securely. She leans back, solid and grounding and protective, even being smaller than him of a full head, size difference even greater from her not wearing armour. She’s there, she smells like her elfroot lotion, and he’s rarely been as grateful of her presence as in this moment.
“I missed you.” She tells him, after a minute, voice little as if it’s a secret, looking intently at the sun peeking above the horizon, turning the sky in pink and peaches.
"I'm here for you as well. You know it?"
She just nods against his cheek, melting a little, back slouching forward. If he peeks at her profile he can see the eye towards him is watery, shining bright in the dawn, and he knows in an instant that she’s letting go as well, she needs to but doesn’t want to.
“I’m here.” He repeats, squeezing her snugly and tight, and that’s all she needs to believe him, tears falling off her eyes with a snort. He kisses one away, bending slightly. “I’m here.”
#dragon age#dragon age inquisition#da fic#cullavellan#cullen x lavellan#cullen rutherford#before the dawn#FEELZ#Little Brother doesn't approve the mushiness on his back and you can hear him snorting a “GET A ROOM”#inquisitor lavellan#greypetrel#dragon age fic#writing petrel
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Wonder what it will ever feel like
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