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heirbane · 3 months

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4. Five times touched... 🐺🐇 :>

touched. / @daizure

Maybe he was trying to drown. The more he lost, the more glass bottles and thin, fluted glasses graced his lips, sweet and bitter, tolerable and horrid all at once. It helped him sleep. It helped his mind quiet, no longer as loud as the crashing waves against the cliff sides but more akin to the lull against shore, gentle and creeping until he couldn't remember what had plagued him.

Once, he would have thrown himself into his work. Once, Gaius would have donned weighted fatigues and pulled soldiers out of their platoons, running drills and sparring until his heart thrummed in his ears.

He was lost at sea now, without the capacity to run himself until oblivion as he once had. Now he simply had to wait to drown.

He reached out, intending to finish the last of the bottle, the firelight crackling with laughter ahead of him. How he had fallen, it chortled. He had hit the ground and continued unto hell.

When would it stop?

Smooth leather met his fingertips. Gaius felt himself flinch, an action pulled from the depths of his inebriated instincts, and turned his citrine gaze to the man who had crouched beside him.

For a moment, they stayed still. Arye scant looked his way, his smaller hand still gripping around the bottle with such might that Gaius believed he was simply laying claim. He let out a long exhale.

"As you wish."

Arye wrenched the bottle from him. In a swift movement, the man stood, and all at once Gaius watched as the bottle went flying. It collided with the firewood, glass shattering, and what remained of the spirits went up in flames, the fire grateful for the offering.

It continued to laugh, tendrils of heat reaching for the sky, begging for more. That was all it could do.

He wondered when Allie took up collecting.

The barracks of Garlemald's soldiers had always wanted for decor in a way that was intentional. Soldiers weren't to want, nor to have desires: they were to fight, and such things as trinkets and favored items were frowned upon. Humanity made them weak, Solus had believed.

It was a habit that carried into Terncliff, malms and malms from his home, years past being a proper soldier. His cottage was blank. He had bought the necessities and nothing more: his own bed had scarcely more than a single pillow and a single blanket, and, unconsciously, he had forced the same onto Allie.

But it seemed with each passing day that a Moogle graced his doorstep that the house became fuller. At first he had believed it to be his daughter's doings, visiting the market and buying trinkets with her own coin or combing the beach for shells and glass. Lidded jars sat in the windows, frosted seaglass positively glowing in the sunlight; sea shells of all sizes and variety appeared atop the fireplace mantle and on the washroom counter.

That was, until he appeared in a Moogle's place.

Gaius had scarcely felt as dumb in his life as he felt in that moment, fried eggs sizzling in the kitchen and his hair scarcely combed, when he opened his front door and peered down at a white-furred being that decidedly did not say "Kupo".

"Is Allie afoot?"

He paused. He looked over his shoulder, full knowing she wasn't, and spoke:

"No, she's - ... on a date. Brunch."

Arye had pushed past him, as if searching for the teen on his own. When Gaius' words sank in, however, his ears twitched, swiveling his attention to the Garlean.

"Oh."

The eggs sizzled, scorching in their pan. Gaius attempted,

"You could stay, and - "

"No."

He thrust out his armful. Gaius had been so preoccupied by his being that he didn't notice the overflowing blanket that had been carefully folded and held with care. Now, Arye seemed as if the item disgusted him, boots heavy on the stone flooring as he went to take his leave.

"For her. It was too heavy for the Moogles to take from Yanxia," he said curtly. "I'll - be back. When she's around."

Arye fled, the heavy wooden door slamming shut in his wake. Gaius stood, thumb stroking over the intricate weave in the karakul wool.

Huh. Mayhaps it hadn't entirely been Allie's doing...

"Get up. Get up, damn you."

The townfolk that had seen the Blasphemy had claimed it to sound human, that the wicked sound had put a pit in their stomach. As the world began to fall apart, they barely knew what to do with themselves. Once, Garlemald had helped build their seaside home, encouraging trade and advancements in farming. Once, Gaius had walked the stonework and looked for weak points to patch and mend.

He had been trustworthy once, the eldest of them remembered. And so they had come to the old wolf with a chance to redeem himself: not as a Garlean, and not as a Legatus, but as Gaius Baelsar.

He would not tell them no.

He wished he could have.

It was a Weapon. It was half-human and half-machine, sinew replaced with tubing. When it opened it's maw, lined with rotting, steel teeth, it was to jeer at them all. Gaius felt as if he had departed from his own body, his gunblade foreign in his hand.

It unleashed a sound that nigh echoed Valen's laughter, wet and poisonous and rancid.

Gaius didn't remember giving orders. He didn't remember being in his own skin, flooded with recollections of his children as their souls were torn from their aether, as they fused with the machina they piloted. It defied nature. It defied science.

Maybe he hadn't done a thing at all. All at once he was startled awake, gasping for air in a way that felt as if his lungs were on fire. Arye appeared above him, positively blocking out the sun and wearing it's rays as a halo against his locks. He heard Allie weeping not far away.

When had he gotten here? How had he the time to save the world and such a place as this? Had the rest of the realm begged him for assistance, too?

Arye's bare hand fisted the front of his armor. It had been the best the Werlytans could scrounge up, padded cotton and hemp, leather reinforcements for those who stood at the front line. He yanked, forcing Gaius into a seated position even as the world swam.

Allie stared at him. Arye cursed. He felt the man's palm against his back and under his ribs, the action ripping a sound from him that felt black and horrid.

Maybe he was getting to die here, he wondered. After it all. Maybe he would get peace after all.

He could breathe. They were small, shallow things, his subconscious more aware of his plight than he. It was dark and drizzling, the moon but a sliver in the sky as it peered through his window shyly.

He had not died. He had yet to feel relieved in that fact: Gaius simply felt old and haggard, beaten unto oblivion and drug back to the shores of the living. Maybe his age had finally caught up with his spirit.

He heard a wheezy sigh at his side, and then the throaty inhale of someone who had their nose broken too many times. He became aware of the sheer number of people asleep in the dark: the chair to his study had been brought in, as well as the rocking chair from the living room. He felt Allie's small hand in his own, even as she slept turned away from him, a pillow carefully dividing them - her attempt to keep from hurting him in her sleep.

Valdeaulin snored. His feet sagged the mattress where he slouched, his chair at the foot of the bed. When Gaius turned his head, he saw moon-white hair curling on his pillow. Arye had claimed the study chair, contorted in such a way that looked uncomfortable, his forehead on his arm and his hand outstretched in his direction. His fingertips just barely brushed Gaius' sleeping shirt.

He had not died. He felt old and exhausted, weary and threadbare, but his throat was thick and he found it harder to breathe than before. He squeezed Allie's hand, and slowly - uncertainly, unaware of the full extent of his wounds - placed his other beneath Arye's.

He brought their intertwined hands to his lips. The moon watched as he wept.

Gaius had learned far more about the Scions and their small spats than he ever believed he could. Had he been but half a decade younger, he wondered what this information would have done for him in Garlemald.

Perhaps not as much as he wished, he mused. The Lalafell's blackmail attempts aside, they were fairly moot points; the rogue and the celestial mage had not been intermingled until recently, so it would not have been useful then. The witch's shift in aethersight was a boon, despite it's challenges, and the dragoon's fondness for Thavnair was expected. That bit of information was one he already knew - they had crossed paths more than once after their excursion to Garlemald.

But the Warrior of Light was a storyteller, and he would not turn down the chance to hear Allie laugh... even if it meant his daughter telling stories of her own.

(He pretended he hadn't heard her mention kissing the girl she was dating, or that she had trailed off and laughed in a way that he hadn't ever heard, that both were lost under the popping of bacon and popotos.)

Arye appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. His mug was empty, and he gingerly put the tea bag in the trash. With a familiar ease, he dug into the cabinetry, fishing out cutlery and plates for all three of them.

"She hadn't told me she was that involved with her," Gaius grumbled. He heard the man snort, his hip colliding with the Garlean's thigh as they stood side-by-side.

"Maybe you'd know about her if you invited her for breakfast instead of just me," Arye spoke.

It was Gaius' turn to huff, defensive and dismissive all at once. He watched the rabbit's ears swivel, mischievous and coy, as he laid claim to two of the finished plates and disappeared back into to the table Allie sat at.

He was right. Somehow, he usually was. Gaius ran a hand over his face, picking up his plate in one hand and his walking cane in another, and made to join them both.

#ⅩⅣ loqui ( asks. )#ⅩⅣ responsa ( answers.)#ⅩⅣ cara lepus / cari lupum ( a/g. )#5.0 spoilers #6.0 spoilers #here i go preemtively tagging things im thinking abt even if they dont make it in. in the weird chance yall can read my mind or something #alcohol tw #loss tw #grief tw #mental illness tw #tried to be story chronological but don't look too hard #weapon series -> patch content -> e.nd of end.walkerish -> patch content maybe #war tw #wounds tw #death ideation tw #suicide ideation tw

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modelartist-demri · 1 year

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I think both Cara Delevigne or Eva Green would e great portrayals of Demri if a movie including her would be ever made

Oh yes!!!! I think model and actress Cara Delevingne would be a great Demri if a movie about her or about AIC/grunge/1990s Seattle was ever made! Or about 1990s artists, fashion, style, poets...

As Demri, she pulls out funny faces:

With dark hair she could be a very believable Demri, I think

Plus, if Demri was her age today, I think she might be as successful as Cara (with Instagram, the internet and so). I could picture her easily playing the role of pixie faerie Vignette Stonemoss on Carnival Row

Or presenting/hosting her own TV series "Planet Sex" as Cara does!

youtube

Plus Cara is a model and an actress, Demri was a model and an aspiring actress, both are lgtbi so I think Cara would find very interesting to play a role like Demri's (with honor and respect). She's slim like Dem but a bit taller.

As for Eva Green, this Alison Dyer photo of Demri reminds me of beautiful Eva, but just this one:

Eva is also an actress and model, a bit shorter than Cara but still taller than Demri.

Demri would have enjoyed playing the role of tortured medium Vanessa Yves in Penny Dreadful if she was alive...

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tag-if · 5 months

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How do the RO's act during the relationship stage? Like are they sweet? Playful? All that cute stuff. And what are their love languages? Just gonna throw in asks here and there for fun since this blog is just starting out. Excited for the demo btw!

Anyways, how are you doiiing? 😊

please do, i love sharing more about the characters with you all!!

to start with; i'm alright! just got home from my afternoon/evening lecture so i'm a little tired, but that's to be expected :)

now, for your answers; under the cut!

Love Languages; receive / give

A. Bellefleur; words of affirmation / gift giving

K. Valiev; quality time / physical affection

A. Caras; words of affirmation / quality time

T. Bellefleur; quality time / words of affirmation

M. Serrel; physical affection / acts of service

Relationship Stage;

A. Bellefleur; They love you so wholly it's almost scary. They look to you as if you're their whole world, they would raze kingdoms to the ground if you were to only say the word, and their loyalty is unmatched. Money is no object and you often find little trinkets (or jewellery, if that suits your taste) waiting when you return to your room, a sweet message or poem written on the gift box tag. Their communication is excellent and they are quick to put their diplomatic training into use, apologising and compromising where necessary until you are both content again after an argument.

K. Valiev; They love as if you will break apart under their touch. They are gentle, almost reverent, in every soft touch of their hand against your form. They are protective and steady, a constant calming presence for you to rely on whenever you need, a sturdy rock in a raging ocean. Even if you're busy, they'll take time out of their patrol to visit, snaking their arms arounf you and resting against your head whilst you work. They will struggle a bit if you ask for space after an argument, however will of course respect your wishes, likely going to cook your favourite dish for you, you can talk it out together over the excellently prepared meal.

A. Caras; They love with spontaneity. Their love is a surprise, a surprise hug, a gentle peck on your cheek when you least expect it, your favourite flowers laid neatly on the desk in your room (though if you look closely there is dirt on the stems and the ribbon is clumsily tied, matching mud staining their clothes when you next see them). Their day is busy, and you know that, yet somehow each time you come to check on them, they are somehow free enough to sit and chat (you once saw them push a stack of papers behind them as you walked in, but decided not to mention it). They are prickly after an argument, snapping if you speak to them too soon (though regret is the only thing behind their gaze), it's best to let them start the conversation. If you try to leave them be, a hand will dart out and gently grasp your wrist, keeping you close by.

T. Bellefleur; They love like you're the only two in the room. It was disconcerting at first, the intensity behind their gaze, the swirling mix of emotion that was so overpowering it became a void. Spending more time with them, however, gave you insight. They were a worrywart hidden by snark, their affection for you tinged with a healthy level of sarcasm (the heat behind it melting into softness). Their gruffness and grumbles turned into quiet murmuring at some point, random declarations of love or your beauty, spoken for your ears only (or into your shoulder, if you're cuddling). They are...cold after arguments, more like the royal you had first met, approach them gently but firmly, explain why you said what you said or did what you did (in this case, logic is your friend).

M. Serrel; They love like they kill. They are smooth, subtle, so much so that you barely notice. Until you do. Until you realise that your clothes are always clean and neatly put away, that your paperwork is stacked carefully on your desk, and then you can't un-notice it. They weave their way into your routine with a practiced adaptability, a seamless transition from separate to together (losing none of their usual suaveness and, quit honestly, heart racing flirting). They very rarely apologise after an argument, unless you express that the words themselves are important, but you notice that they never make that mistake again, and your usual chores are miraculously done by the time you get round to them.

#tag-if #the advisor's game #ro ask #asks #ro; a. bellefleur #ro; k. valiev #ro; a. caras #ro; t. bellefleur #ro; m. serrel #twine wip #loved answering this one #weirdly t. caused me the most trouble #how to describe t. other than rat bastard #a difficult task #please do let me know your favourites though #also their give love languages will obvs change if mc wants something else #just #that's what they default to

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ex0rin · 29 days

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thank youuu for the comics crossover content, they're such a treasure trove and not enough c3gans have read them <333

oh you're SO welcome! it's been so long since i picked up the comics and i honestly didn't realize all that dialogue is basically scene for scene the same - it's so good

VERY here for this (also, not me remaking the undressing scene/ gifset again for the hundredth time 😅)

anyway! thank you for the very lovely ask ❤️

#anon asks #asked and answered #cara gifs #feel good tag #the walking dead #carl grimes #negan smith #cegan #don't mind me clawing my face off over here

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effervescentdragon · 6 months

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I really think Max in the end will choose Christian Horner. Why? Cause he is the old man who he won through racing.

Helmut Marko is a lot like a Jos figure to Max. But now he is grown

is this about shipping or real life? bcs my answer may differ, depending.

#akira answers asks #oh god i dont wanna put this in the main tags #but i also dont want cara and katie to block me #shit. i fucked up #hornstappen. maybe.

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daisyjoners · 1 year

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hc + viviana

give me a character and i’ll give you 10+ headcannons: viviana rossi.

a rotina de viviana foi repleta de atividades durante os anos da escola. os pais não acreditavam que conseguiriam trabalhar com toda a energia da menina caso suas ocupações oficiais fossem apenas ir para a escola e voltar para casa, e achavam que precisavam de uma solução mais a longo prazo pra aquilo. então, tiveram a ideia de inscrevê-la em várias extracurriculares oferecidas na escola para toda a energia e disposição da filha ser destinada a algo bom. assim, teve parte em um monte de clubes e esportes na escola, desde a jardinagem até o atletismo, ou a culinária e o vôlei - este sendo um em que continuou até o ensino médio.

por mais que adorasse o vôlei, de longe, a sua atividade favorita acabou sendo o clube de teatro. através dele, descobriu completamente o seu amor pela atuação, todo o mundo do teatro e o quanto simplesmente nada se comparava a estar nas fantasias fornecidas para as apresentações. quando se lembra das apresentações escolares, suas favoritas foram como donna em mamma mia! e helena em sonho de uma noite de verão.

embora apoiadores de toda a sua dedicação ao teatro no início, com os anos, seus pais começaram a ficar preocupados com o investimento de viviana na área. irmã mais nova de quatro filhos, enquanto seus irmãos estavam ocupados com as suas aplicações para a universidade, ou com a vida acadêmica ao já terem entrado nas mesmas, ela não estava nada focada nos estudos na escola; tirava notas boas, só que não fazia nada além disso para demonstrar interesse, na opinião deles.

falando em seus irmãos, são eles: angela, seis anos mais velha, formada na upenn em engenharia química; marco, quatro anos mais velho, terminando a residência de cirurgia geral no john hopkins; lorenzo, um ano mais velho, formado na nyu em odontologia.

sabendo que não teria o apoio dos pais, começou a juntar dinheiro nos dois verões antes de sua formatura para poder se mudar para nova york quando tivesse o seu diploma em mãos e a liberdade em sua frente. entretanto, quando anunciou a sua partida, tiveram uma briga extremamente séria, e até seus irmãos mais velhos voltaram para casa para ajudar em uma intervenção.

no fim, não adiantou de nada todo o escarcéu da família, porque juntou o que iria querer manter em sua vida, pegou seu dinheiro e logo estava no primeiro trem pra nova york - viv, por sinal, é de richmond, capital da virginia. durante três semanas, moreu na casa de sua tia denise, porém, a mulher não tinha espaço fixo para ela, já que vivia com seus três filhos e tinha transformado seu quarto de hóspedes como um atêlie para o seu trabalho. foi uma ajuda e tanto, apesar disso, e logo arrumou um emprego de garçonete e conseguiu se mudar.

o trabalho não era grande coisa, porém, ter ido morar com algumas meninas de lá que estavam precisando de uma nova colega de quarto, bem quando viv entrou no restaurante, facilitou muito. saía de lá direto pra fazer audições ou ir nas aulas com uma das colegas que também queria um futuro na atuação, tentando guiar todo o novo caminho que tinha pra sua vida.

pegou várias partes pequenas em off broadways até o momento de virada em sua carreira: pegar o papel de substituta em uma peça muito importante, little shop of horrors. não esperava realmente conseguir tomar parte no espetáculo, entretanto, por um contratempo com a atriz de audrey, acabou assumindo o papel. foi muito bem recebida e, por mais inesperado que fosse, as coisas pareciam começar a se encaixar pra ela. tudo só comprovava que queria estar naquele lugar mais do que tudo.

seu filme favorito é nasce uma estrela, em sua versão de 1976. contudo, ama toda versão da obra, e já os assistiu tanto ao ponto de saber boa parte das falas quando se trata dos momentos mais importantes. as músicas do mais recente, então, não saíram de seu spotify desde o lançamento do filme. também é muito fã de grey's anatomy, e reassiste as temporadas frequentemente.

embora seja alguém que consiga levar bem críticas construtivas e conselhos em sua área de trabalho, viviana não sabe lidar com conselhos em sua vida pessoal. na verdade, tem uma tendência enorme a fazer tudo, menos o que lhe disseram; isso que, na verdade, é justamente o tipo de pessoa a sempre pedir a opinião de outros sobre o que deveria fazer. frequentemente se arrepende por isso, é importante ser dito.

#character: viviana rossi.#partner: nana.#in character: answers.#surto de inspiração ou tomar vergonha na cara de fazer as coisas? fica aqui a dúvida

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