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dekariosclan · 5 months

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Imagine Gale as a talented and impressive young man, able to compose the Weave at will, skilled in a way that few can match, and favored by the Goddess of Magic herself. Imagine that because of these accomplishments, he’s caught the eye of a few up-and-coming magic adepts, and he falls in love with one of them—his first real love. Gale isn’t one to toss the ‘L’ word around lightly, so when he tells them he loves them, he means it; he gives himself over to them completely.

And in return, they love him for his potential. For his status. For the magic he can command. They love the wizard they see on the surface, but not the man underneath. They are attracted to his power, but not to him.

So of course the relationship fails, after the thrill of his magic wears off. But because Gale is a resilient young man and he’s caught the eye of so many, he soon falls in love with another.

And then it happens again. And again.

And each time Gale’s heart is ravaged, his ambition to become a better wizard grows, because he’s being shown time and time again that his magic ability is all that matters.

So much so that, by the time Mystra decides to elevate him from Favored to Chosen to Lover, he welcomes her with eager, desperate arms. Because if all his worth is in his magic, and that’s all he has to offer, and that’s all anyone wants from him, who better to love him than the Goddess of Magic herself?

Except…there’s a nagging voice in the back of his head that whispers she doesn’t really love him. There’s anxiety in his heart as time passes, and he reaches both the limit of what his talents can do and what Mystra will allow him to do. And most troubling of all: a growing panic that, just like his other lovers, she will soon grow tired of him and discard him if he can’t improve his magic any further.

He tries pouting, and pleading, and begging her to let him take more power, to let him be more for her, but she refuses. Smiles patronizingly. Tells him to be patient. But Gale can’t be patient when his power is tied so closely to his self-worth; he can’t be patient when doing so in the past has only ever lead to heartache.

So he does what he believes will be a Grand Romantic Gesture, one that will finally put him on equal footing with the woman he loves. Instead, it turns out to be a folly that dooms him and destroys his talents. And just as he’d always feared, Mystra tosses him aside the moment his magical gifts are gone—because what’s left of him holds no value for her.

————

Imagine Gale in his tower, alone, afraid, the ever-hungry orb in his chest, with only his tressym there to help him. No other friends to speak of. His colleagues forced to keep away for their own safety. His magical talents utterly stripped down, so that even when he does try and distract himself with illusions, he’s bitterly reminded of what he used to be capable of. Waking every morning wondering if it will be his last, ending every day full of loneliness and disappointment.

…and then he meets Tav.

At the lowest point in his life, at his most vulnerable, when he knows he’s going to be considered a burden, he meets this stranger and their group. So he does what he can to be useful—assigning himself to be camp cook, offering up his (now meager) magic skills, turning the charm up to 11—as he desperately hopes this will somehow work out. He’s pleasantly surprised when, after providing only minor details of his condition, Tav agrees to help him. He’s even more surprised when they actually follow through.

Imagine how Gale feels as Tav treats him kindly. As he grows to trust Tav, and then grows to like them. Imagine his surprise as he opens up and shows them more and more of himself, and they don’t turn him away.

But then his condition worsens. And he has to reveal everything: the foolish mistakes he’s made, and how dangerous he is as a result. He clings to Tav’s hand as he shows them his folly. He’s at their mercy now, and he knows this might be the last time he’ll ever feel the touch of another being, if they decide—and Gods, why wouldn’t they decide?—to cast him out.

…but they don’t. They don’t. Instead, they tell him to stay.

Imagine the relief Gale feels. The gratitude. And perhaps…just a hint of something more. Something that he dare not name, but that flares to life every time he thinks of how warm their hand was in his. Something that feels dangerously close to jealousy, when he’s had too much to drink and sees Tav smiling at another…

But he knows these are all foolish thoughts, because he has nothing to offer Tav. They are wonderful just as they are, but he…he is an empty shell of a man, a discarded husk of a wizard, and while they might tolerate him, he could never believe they might actually want him.

And besides, he still thinks of Mystra. He still longs for Mystra. She who cast him out, but to whom he still feels tethered. Sometimes he needs to cocoon himself in the weave, just to try and calm his fears and bring some joy back to his life, because magic is his life. And sometimes he just needs to see her face, even though that hurts as much as it heals.

One night he’s lost in thought, having conjured Mysta’s image after settling down at camp. Thinking that even if she hadn’t ‘loved’ him—certainly not in the way he’d loved her—she’d given him enough otherwise, hadn’t she? She’d amused him and been amused by him, they’d shared countless pleasures, why hadn’t he been satisfied with that?

Gale is so lost in thought he doesn’t realize Tav has come up behind him. Until they ask a question, startling him out of his trance. He’s a bit shaken, so he tries to turn the conversation from Mystra to the weave itself. And then a wonderful idea occurs to him, something that he’d been toying with already: what if they were to conjure the weave together?

He can show Tav how important magic is to him, let them experience what he does, perhaps even impress them a bit. But most importantly, share a moment with them. As friends would do…

He’s elated when Tav agrees. He leads them through the steps effortlessly, and they’re a surprisingly good student, following his instructions correctly (if a bit clumsily). He’s as excited as they are—perhaps even more so!—when they succeed in channeling the weave.

It’s such a pleasant, familiar feeling for him, like coming home to his tower in Waterdeep. Even as the weave connects him with Tav and makes them one, he’s easily able to hide his innermost thoughts, because he’s done it so many times before.

…but he’s forgotten that Tav has not.

————

Imagine Gale knowing every romantic partner he ever had only wanted him because of how he could raise their status, or how he could amuse them, or how he could command magic for them. And, each time, he was happy to oblige them, even desperate to oblige them, because if that was the price of their love, then he was sure it would be worth it.

But it still all came to nothing.

Now imagine Gale connected in an intimate way with someone he likes very, very much—while being what he considers his lowest, most worthless, and most humbled self. As far from the powerful, impressive wizard he once was as he could ever be. And suddenly a vision enters his mind from the lovely creature standing next to him. Only, to his complete and utter shock, it isn’t one where he is providing them with a service, or wowing them with his magical ability, or granting them some kind of power from one of the spells he commands.

Instead, when he sees their desire laid bare before him, it’s a vision of kissing him. Of holding his hand. The two most basic forms of affection and physical connection. The two things that he would still be able to offer them even if every last ounce of his remaining magical abilities were stripped from him. The two things he could share with them even if he was no longer Gale of Waterdeep, and just plain old Gale Dekarios instead.

Imagine the embarrassment and trepidation he feels at first, because surely he is mistaken?…and then the elation when he realizes that he is not. So much elation that his concentration is broken, the weave dissipating as he forgets about channeling it, as he forgets about Mystra. Because all that matters to him now is the image before him—the most pleasant and welcome image he’s seen in a very, very long time.

Imagine how that would feel…and how besotted, enamored and completely devoted he’d be to Tav afterwards. To know that someone finally—finally—just wants him.

Just imagine.

#Please enjoy this huge dissertation about Gale #(which was unintentional)#I originally wanted to talk briefly—BRIEFLY—about why the weave scene is so important to him #And then I….kept writing lol #Please also note that while this focuses on successfully channeling the weave I also LOVE the talk you have with him if you ‘failed’ it!#The same themes apply there because when you tell Gale you still think about being alone together he replies that he hopes to embrace you #It’s all about Gale finally finding someone who appreciates him just as he is and being able to connect with them #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #baldur's gate 3 #gale x tav #bg3

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rayjeff · 4 months

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silly doodle guys

#i know that there's lot of controversy now about this show #i don't support whatever bad is going on with viziepop #but i still enjoy this show and i've been waiting for it all these years :^#and i don't have amazon prime so yeah you can figure how i watched this show lol #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin alastor #doodles #aaaaandd i decided not to stick with one fandom so now i'll draw a lot of different things :D I hope you'll like it! :>

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magicshop · 1 month

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seokjin + iconic solo performances for @cordiallyfuturedwight ♡ [cr. namuspromised]

#btsgif #btsedit #seokjin #kim seokjin #jin #bangtan #bts #mine #mine:gifs #mine:ksj #cordiall #cordiallyfuturedwight #annie #annietrack #rjshope #userp #userpat #raplineuser #useremmeline #i didn't have a lot of time but i hope you still like this #and that i've queued this for an appropriate time fjfgfjg #HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY DEAREST KAYLA<333333333 #I hope you have the loveliest and most wonderful day #you are a bright light in this fandom and i am so happy to have met you #and for the privilege of enjoying your beautiful sets and flirting with you all the time <333 #you make me feel warm and i want to smooch your face!!!! meet me at the park i'll be the one on one knee :((((#i'll have my picnic basket ready this time<3 #(btw i hope you appreciate the fact that i had to rewatch the astronaut multiple times to make this #and i cried every time<3)#happy birthday darling<3

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butterfilledpockets · 10 months

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grandpop wake up! your toaster is on fire

and so there were four once more.

At last, all the gramps are awoken from their nap :D

anyone guess where the weapons in the last page are from?

previous ---- part 9 ---- next

masterpost

#bad end ninja turtles #B.E.N.T #tmnt au #tmnt fanart #same as it never was #tmnt 2003 #2003 raph #tw implied sibling death #really hope you all enjoy!#my god this one was a HARD ONE I think I rewrote and redrew this thrice and I am still tempted to take it down and try again-#its crazy how much my art has changed since I started this comic #cannot believe we are soon gonna see the dudes all together!!!!#(the wheel said yes btw)

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caffichai · 11 months

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Goldenglow!

I like her colours and drip

She swept the last poll by a pretty sizable margin! Thanks everyone who participated!

#I had such an unreasonably hard time choosing what to do for the background lol #I still feel like it's a bit iffy but oh well!#Hope you all enjoy it!#pixel art #digital art #arknights #Goldenglow #Pastel #artists on tumblr #I FORGOT TO RESIZE IT!!!

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utterlyazriel · 3 months

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whom the shadows sing for— (and the thief's echoing hymn)

a/n: it's time for some more ✨trauma✨ time to learn ur own backstory tehe <3 feel free to let me know what you think or any future... predictions... you think might be coming...

word count: 3.3k

synopsis: Azriel leaves for Velaris. You reflect on old choices and everything that you lead you to where you are now— and realise it's been awhile since you had anyone to miss. fem!reader, mulan-esque au

—CHAPTER THREE :: COMPANIONS

There's a girl screaming in the middle of camp.

Anguish, a pure guttural agony, litters her voice. She's shrieking, screaming herself hoarse, tortured cries piercing the air as a piece of her identity is ripped from her forcibly. The scream that you know only follows a wing clipping.

Fear rolls through your body, seizing every nerve til your limbs lock up. Your stomach lurches, nausea swimming and threatening to choke up your throat. The screams dive beneath your very skin and make a home there, unbidden.

The screaming isn't stopping and you acutely notice that you're crying because of it, big fat tears rolling down your face as though you're the one in pain, unable to quieten her suffering, because... because...

Because the girl is you.

The girl is you and they had found out somehow and they had come, they had held you down and taken the knife between your wings and starting slicing through muscle and sinew and it fucking hurts, it hurts so much—

A ragged gasp rips from your throat at the slice down your back.

You wake you with a violent twitch.

Your dagger is in your hand in an instant, stored beneath your pillow, always within reach. The cool leather beneath it is a comfort as your senses search blindly for any threat. The rabbiting sound of your heart looms in your ears and you keenly strain your ears to try listen over it.

A threat? An intruder? You're looking for anything hidden in the darkness, while your senses are still swamped by your nightmare. The effects of it are melting away too slowly. Your breath comes too fast.

Shadows loom. You're not sure what is fear is still lingering from the dream and what is real instinct, kicking in to protect yourself.

Worse is, your suspicions are not at all unwarranted.

Around you, the space is still. Dead air trapped within your shelter.

Outside, the howl of the Mother's Kiss sounds again, the rattling wind against the windows somehow grounding you into your home. You're in your home. You're not out in the middle of camp, not held onto that horrid stained piece of earth where all the clippings take place.

You're tucked away in your space, hidden beneath your secret still.

Your chest heaves rapidly, dregs of panic still running through your system. You force yourself to inhale slowly, blinking slowly and letting your eyes adjust to the night. It's still dark.

It's nighttime and you've had a night terror and you're still safe, still just like any other male in the camp.

Behind you, you give your wings a little shiver, just to check.

Still there, still working in every capacity. The relief that pours through you soothes like a balm, heady and overwhelming. You release a shaky breath and curl your knees up to your chest, wings cocooning around yourself.

The nightmares, this nightmare, has been unrelenting for as many years as you can remember. Well, since...

Since twenty six years ago, when you had made a very difficult choice.

Perhaps the only time you'll ever be thankful for being a bastard in this camps is when it had granted you the privacy to make such a choice. Nobody cares if a bastard child dies, male or otherwise.

It had made you dispensable and therefore, unnoticeable.

Nobody noticed when one more begging child, one more hungry face, went missing. And certainly nobody paid any mind when one more turned up again — hair cut down to the scalp, bleeding in places from the shoddy cut, and a gritty determination in their eyes.

No, in fact, the only time people started noticing you was when you started tasting the mixture of blood and dirt, knocked down in a fight you knew you had no chance of winning.

You had started it. Pushed your way into the group of boys and shoved one, hard. Fought back as best you could with half formed fists that quickly got pushed into the mud and held there as the boy you shoved wailed on you, hit after hit after hit.

By the time he had been pulled off you, your mouth was a river of blood and your face ached in a way you had never felt before.

The very bone of your skull felt bruised. Your nose was definitely broken. You wanted to cry but even scrunching your face up hurt too much. It was impossible to think anything beyond pure pain.

The group of boys were sneering as they left you in a crumpled heap on the ground, kicking mud in your direction and hissing the word bastard.

But not one mention of you being anything other than that.

Just a bastard. No slighted comment at being a female, at not being worthy of a fight for that reason.

In the Illyrian Mountains, being a bastard gave you very little in the manner of food, things, and choices. If you managed to survive past childhood, that is.

If you could scrape around for food to fill a belly that never seemed to stop growling and manage not succumb to icy embrace of the winter in the mountains, there was very little waiting for you. Even less so, if you weren't a male.

Males, at the very least, could fight for a sliver of something better.

And wasn't that just the Illyrian way? If you can fight, if you can beat and claw your way to the top, it's worth something. It's the only way to gain respect. To earn it, even when you came from nothing.

For you? Living past childhood would mean getting your greatest love torn from you.

You had seen half a dozen clippings before the age of eight. It was said that other camps littered throughout Illyria tended to be more gracious. Did it in private. Healers on hand. No excessive force.

But you'd believe that when you saw it — clippings were brutal.

Females having experienced their first blood were dragged out into the middle of camp, some kicking and screaming, others a ghostly quiet. Everybody watched and nobody stepped in, no matter the pleas.

You, no older than eight years old, had stared at the bloody patch left on the ground til your vision had blurred. It was crimson, mixing with the dirt of the earth. Beneath it was this horrid scorched brown colour.

Old blood.

The final straw for you had been Adesi— Lord Mylind's own daughter. You're not sure when or why some part of your had become convinced that she might be spared. That because her father held rank and could bend certain rules, that she might escape the fate you so feared for yourself.

She hadn't. Lord Mylind had done the clipping himself.

And she hadn't cried or fussed. There hadn't been a struggle, just this soft weeping as she kept her eyes on the ground, every pained sound that passed her lips lined with a bitter resignation of knowing this was always coming.

It had stoked a simmering ember within you — a furiously upset flame that burned hotter and hotter, til you were trembling with the force of it. Forced to watch yet another girl stripped of her freedom. Polished up for breeding stock.

If Adesi wouldn't be spared, neither would you. The future, you could see, was growing impossibly bleaker and would continue down that path if nothing radical appeared to change its course.

You had cut your hair that same very night.

It was a shit job. Trying to get it as short as you could manage without a mirror or proper tools to do so proved incredibly difficult. The lack of proper shelter didn't help either.

Bandages you were stock-piling for Mother knows what were used to bind your chest. Then you spent the rest of the night time scouring the mountain-side for those bitter herbs on the mere hope that the rumour that they would keep you from bleeding held an inkling of truth.

The next day had been the day you got into your very first fight.

The first of many. Lord Mylind didn't take kindly to bastards, especially when you paled in comparison to the size of the other novices. You had been refused to be allowed to join training the first time you had tried, his cold eyes narrowed with a cruel curl of his upper lip.

But you had, perhaps, what no one else did.

No other way forward. No other choice.

Every part of you that yearned to keep your beautiful wings, to keep your freedom, your autonomy, was channeled into your intense drive. You would not be so easily dissuaded.

You trained day and night, working up weak muscles til they hardened beneath your skin. Without proper training, it was nowhere near as efficient as it could've been. There was no-one there to soothe the aches of your growing pains, nor the sores that came with hitting the ground time and time again as you honed the balance and fluidity of your body.

A season passed. Your drive did not falter— not when half a dozen more females got clipped in that same period. A wedge drove itself between your ribs, attempting to crack open your chest; a heavy guilt at what they experienced... what you could not yet prevent.

It pushed you to train harder than before.

It took seven whole months of solitary training before Lord Mylind reluctantly allowed you to join the ranks— forced to when you disarmed and wiped the floor with Brudam in the ring to prove yourself.

By that time, the list of clipped females had climbed to nearly fifty. You kept track of every single one, forty-eight notches carved into your soul for every person you failed to protect from a terrible fate.

It killed you having to bide your time.

To train alongside the males of the camp who detested you as they did any such bastard. To hear their uncaring jeers of the clippings as they flaunted their own wings proudly. There was no shortage of things to stoke the fire within you, fury burning through every cell in your body. There was no distraction from the ultimate goal.

But between Lord Mylind's abysmal training, geared specifically at you, the purposeful way other warriors wouldn't hesitate to kick you while you were down, and having nobody else in your corner, you had no other choice.

Routines formed. Train. Eat. Train. Scrounge for ingredients, for knowledge, anything on healing tonics. Fail miserably at making anything. Chew the bitter herbs. Train. Sleep. Wake. Train.

Loneliness became a familiar companion.

Every creak in the dark was a potential threat that came looking to see if they could knock the unwelcome bastard out of the ranks. You learned to not just how to duel, but how to brawl and win. To fight dirty. To come out as unscathed as possible.

Your first bleed did eventually come, bitter leaves be damned.

They had done a decent job. They had given you a few crucial years to establish yourself as a worthy fighter, not to be messed with, and enough time to build the shelter you now called home.

It had been a saving grace. If you had been out and exposed, if any of the males in town came sniffing for a fight and felt entitled enough to challenge you, the lie that kept you safe would've come tumbling down like a house of cards.

All those years turned to ash. Wasted. For nothing.

And the only thing that terrified you more than that was... what you were certain they would inflict upon you if they ever found out.

In some of your worst nightmares, they do much worse than just clip you. They take them from you— saw them from your back, splintering bone and tearing muscle, not caring if you cry or scream — not caring if you die.

Around you, your wings give a shiver as if they could feel the ghost of pain that still lurked from your nightmare. You curl them up tighter around you. A blanket of softness, of warmth, finally breaks the chill on your skin.

Routine was easy. Your terror was manageable based on the familiarity of your life. The fact that you had nobody to lean on meant everything, every pillar of comfort, of tough love, of the extra push when you needed it, came from within.

Slipping away from training to deal with the excruciating agony of your cycle was a necessity, even if it pained you to do so. Avoidance of the Blood Rite was born from that too. It was too great a risk— too much time spent that you couldn't ever be sure wouldn't overlap with your cycle.

Besides, you already had the biggest target on your back — the label of bastard giving you more than your fair share of enemies.

They would hunt you down on the first night. That you had no doubt about. The killing would be slow and merciless. To you, the Blood Rite was just another brand of nightmares.

All this dread had become second-nature, stitched into the fabric of your angry and miserable life which seemed to exist against all odds. You were cursed with an ambition that would not let you rest. A compassion that drove you to keep training, to help others more than just yourself.

You were singular. A lone ranger who relied on nothing but your own instincts to keep getting you through the day.

You were solitary. You were lonely.

And yet, within the last month, something else had barrelling into your life and altered its course.

A Shadowsinger.

A Shadowsinger with hazel eyes that dance with mirth and a rueful smile that comes out far too easily for the battle-hardened soldier you know him to be. He's a conundrum. A mentor and a damn hard-ass when it came to training but also someone you could trust.

Calling him a friend felt too close.

A tenative ally, perhaps. A companion, even.

And the fact you can trust him — the fact that you do trust him — is perhaps the biggest change of them all.

All of your routines have been suddenly altered.

Because now, unlike ever before, there's someone there in the morning. Someone to notice your absences. To come looking when it takes longer to drag yourself out of fitful sleep. To comment on the circles under your eyes and roll back the punches accordingly.

He brings the things you need, a sudden plentiful stash of ingredients you wouldn't have dreamed of affording. The good stuff that makes a difference in the potency of a healing tonic. In turn, your feeble attempts at concocting have begun to produce far more useful results.

He brings food too.

No point in all this training if you look like your bones will snap. He had said, almost dismissively as he summoned the abundance of food from within that pocket in the shadow realm. You had been too startled by that alone to question how much he had brought with him.

A fucking feast. Enough food to last you at least half the year, if you stretched it.

Some withered, bitter part of you had shriveled up when you saw it. Your mouth watered and your stomach ached and yet still, you couldn't help how you snapped at him.

I don't want your pity.

Azriel had leveled you with a stare, his shadows roaming about his shoulders like wisps of smoke. He tilted his head to the side an inch, as if trying to pick apart the reasoning for you being so standoffish.

It's not a handout. It's part of our deal. Like I said, there's no point training you if you're starving all the while.

You bristled as his tone, even if there wasn't a hint of condescension to it. It was strong and sure.

When you still hadn't moved, Azriel had spoken once more. It's okay. To eat. I understand that generosity is not something you are familiar with but not eating will not help any of them. Getting stronger will.

He had spoken as if he knew that exact reservation on your mind — the sheer unfairness of having a platter served up to gorge yourself sick on, when so many others... So many others had nothing.

Eat. Azriel had murmured, turning for the door. He had paused just like he had on that first ever night, one scarred hand on the door. Please.

A particularly loud whirl of the Mother's Kiss outside shakes you from the memory.

You blink hard. Your wings twitch and curl in even closer as you realise you've been looking at the door. Looking at where he had stood all those nights ago.

That conversation had been in the first week of knowing Azriel. Back when you were still so wary it was impossible to not raise your hackles when he came knocking at your door, no matter how friendly he had seemed. Friendly, but not harmless you knew.

It took time to stop being constantly on guard around him. But if your lack of trust and general frostiness bothered Azriel, he never let you know.

And now... now you've known him for nearly a month.

A month of routine with him in it. With sparring in the morning, tiring yet rewarding drills beneath the winter sun, and quiet conversations in the evenings, his hazel eyes competing with the crackling fire with how they set your heart ablaze. A month of companionship.

A month, the first month in years, not spent entirely alone.

In the cool night air, knees pulled to your chest, something tugs at your throat at the knowledge he won't be back in the morning.

Last night, after an evening spent in comfortable company where you finally heard him laugh for the first time ever and nearly melted at the sound, he had told you he would be returning to Velaris.

Temporarily, he added on hastily at the flash of surprise in your eyes.

Business with the High Lord. Reports and assessments to deliver. I's to dot and t's to cross.

He assured you he would be back in a day or two, certainly no more than three. He had left ample food and generous tonic ingredients, with all the assurances to continue practicing during the evening.

With no Azriel, you had no reason to avoid training with the rest of camp.

Maybe that was why this particular nightmare had plagued you tonight. Something curdled up in your gut at the thought of returning to your old routine— another part relishes in how you will get to stand your ground as a better, hardier warrior now. To prove yourself worthy of the specialty training you were receiving.

You huff out a small sigh in the dark.

There's no telling what time it is. You force yourself to sit back, easing back into your bed gently til you're lying back under the makeshift duvet you have. It's moth-eaten and seen better days. You snuggle beneath it anyway.

It's been a long time since you've missed anyone, you think forlornly.

The thought surprises you. Staring at the ceiling, your brows furrow and you close your eyes but the truth of it rings clear throughout your very being. Undeniable.

The Shadowsinger has somehow wiggled into your life, burrowed into your routine and has begun to mean something to you. And when he's gone, you... miss him.

Your eyes flash back open, glaring up at the ceiling, and you huff as if that will change that fact.

Rolling over, you pull the duvet in closer, your arms tucking into your chest snugly. Your bed is a bit too small for someone with wings and they ache because of it. Sleep trickles back into your system, dragging your lids down.

As you fall into sleep, some part of you realises, faintly, that you haven't had anyone to miss in a long, long, time.

This time when you dream, it’s of hazel eyes.

[NEXT PART: FRIENDS]

—

tags below!

@strangerstilinski @janebirkln @itsswritten @mischiefmanagers @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @idkitsem @illyrianbitch @jeweline16 @fightmedraco @iamjimintrash @maeandering @spideytingley @aneekapaneeka @cassianswh0reeee @viciane @astarlitsoul @mybestfriendmademe @archiveofcravings @reputaytionn-13 @bionic-donut @chessebookgirl @itseightbeats @littleblackcatinwonderland @twsssmlmaa

#i hope that even tho there's no interactions this chapter u still enjoy it!!! well there is but they're all in the past #just think.... at some point all this horrible backstory... is gonna have to come out #im vibrating in my seat thinking about writing the scene where he figures it out #GAWSH im so excited for it!!#azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel shadowsinger x you #azriel acotar #azriel fic #azriel fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #acotar #azriel fanfic

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fishofthewoods · 1 month

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Oh my god I woke up this morning and my Stardew Valley meta post had almost 150 notes????? Hello?????????? Anyways I started writing this last night because @moon-is-pretty-tonight left nice tags on the original so thank you so much!!

We know from the starting scenes of the game that the farmer's grandfather loved Stardew Valley. So why did he leave? Pelican Town is a good place to grow old; George and Evelyn are just fine. It's a fine place to raise a kid, but maybe he just wanted to raise his child closer to real schools and other children.

Or maybe, just maybe, he understood.

Was there a day when he was in his thirties where he looked at his friends and realized they weren't like him? That he could run faster than them, work longer, explore deeper into the hidden places of the valley?

Was there a day when he went to the wizard to ask him for help, for knowledge if nothing else? Did he learn then that his family was different? Special? Chosen? And how did he react? He couldn't possibly raise a child in the valley if they would be as strange and fey as him. He had to leave. There was no other way.

But years later, on his deathbed, did he regret that choice?

Is that why he gave the farmer the letter?

Is that why they went back home?

When the farmer steps off the bus that first day, the valley is still on the cusp of winter, just barely tipping over into spring. The flowers are starting to bloom, but a chill still hangs in the air. As soon as the farmer's boots touch the soil there's a change. The air gets warmer. The trees get greener. Not by too much, not all at once, but it changes.

The junimos watch the farmer as they do their work. They're new to farming, but take to it with frightening speed; their first batch of crops is perfect. None of the townsfolk tell them that parsnips don't normally grow in less than a week, that cauliflowers don't grow to be ten feet tall, that fairies don't visit when the sun goes down and grow potatoes and beans and tulips overnight. The junimos talk amongst themselves in their strange, wild language, and agree: this is the one. They're back. The valley recognizes its own, even when they've left for a generation. The farmers have come home.

Things change fast in the valley. The community center, empty and decrepit for so many years, is rejuvenated. (Lewis says it was abandoned only a few weeks after the farmer's grandfather left. Strange coincidence, he says, that it both came and went with the farmer's family.) The mines and the quarry, similarly abandoned, are explored for the first time in ages. The town becomes cleaner, brighter, more vibrant, happier.

And it is happier. Not just the environment, but the people. It's the talk of the town for weeks when Haley does her first closet purge. Leah's art show in the town square is a huge success. Shane's smiling for the first time since he moved to the valley. All of them, when asked, say it's all thanks to the farmer.

People love to ask why Lewis didn't fix the community center on his own. Why Willy never repaired the boat to ginger island. Why Abigail or Marlon never went down to fix the elevator in the mines, or why Clint didn't fix the minecarts.

But isn't it so much more interesting to ask how those things were there in the first place? How they got so broken down? If the stories the townspeople tell are true, the valley was once a beautiful place, flourishing and full of life; why did that change? When did it change?

Was it when the farmer's grandfather, the locus of the valley, its chosen representative, left town?

And if so, what happens when the farmer comes back?

#lich says shit #stardew valley #stardew farmer #sdv #my writing #Hope y'all enjoyed!#I'm thinking about developing this into. Like. An actual Fan Fiction. Still sort of short-form but like with more detail?#LMK if you'd be interested to see that! Also if you want to be tagged in future installations of this please just let me know :)#I'm super into this version of the farmer as like. Blessed and cryptic child of the valley with all the strange behavior that entails #If i DO write a more in-depth version of this it'll be from the perspective of someone in town #maybe Leah? She seems like she'd be the one to notice the farmer being Odd. Either that or I'll do it from the perspective of multiple--#--different people to get their unique insights and stuff #I'd also want to dig into like #The family history of the farmer. And what that's like.#Because like why did grandpa leave?#He clearly loved the valley #So why didn't he stay?#Why did he give the deed to his grandchild and not his literal child?#And is it a coincidence that everything in the valley went downhill when he left?#I don't think so.

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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 1 year

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She can't keep getting away with this!

[First] Prev <--> Next

#poorly drawn mdzs #MDZS #season 1 #wei wuxian #lan jingyi #lan sizhui #little apple #I think little apple deserves to cause more mayhem. As a treat #I love how despite her hating wwx they both have the same 'burn all bridges' mentality in gusu lan #little apple would have been able to escape gusu lan if she had thumbs. What the hell is *your* excuse wwx? Huh?#MXY's asscheeks too dummy thick and it keeps alerting hanguan-jun? Sounds like a skill issue #I was too ambitious with wanting to have this scene be on fire. Its a better version of #the fourth comic but still...i have much to learn about the ways of drawing fire #much to learn about drawing in general actually B*( but I'm getting there!#i hope you guys enjoy the preview of wwx showing a little more skin. We still have eons to go until we’re at the dilf era outfit #but its on the roadmap #EDIT: HAPPY INTERNATIONAL WOMENS DAY!!!

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bloobydabloob · 2 months

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can you draw erisol idc if its the sprite or the ship

I’m not familiar with their dynamic like at all, but I tried. Forgive me if this is some kind of crime

#homestuck #homestuck fanart #erisol #eridan ampora #sollux captor #just doodling though #but still #blooby posting #Hi anon #I really ought to look into… more ships than just the one singular ship I like #I’ve never been super into that part of the fandom but there’s not even a reason #I do really like literally all of the main homestuck cast #So shipping might be my thing more of the way if I thought about it #hashtag Erisol for life or something #hope you enjoy at least

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misspoetree · 9 months

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+ Soft Bonus:

KinnPorsche + Text Posts: Vegas Being A Terrible Flirt Edition <3

[Themed Editions: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | ?]

[Episode Editions & Rewatch Editions]

#iiiit's my birthday today so I come bearing gifts (that's how this works right 🤔)#you might have noticed that I love to clown on Vegas' flirtig skills in my text post memes #I felt it was about time to throw them all together in one post and add a few new ones #hence - voilà!#hope you enjoy :)#(those flirting attempts really only cater to Pete don't they 👀)#kinnporsche the series #kinnporsche + text post #vegas theerapanyakul #vegaspete #text post meme #thai bl #because the kinnporsche brain rot is still real #in the queue you go

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snoofins · 7 months

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i bring to you sort-of references of every single one of my PMD heroes, both from the games and from my original story!!!

#pmd #pokemon mystery dungeon #pmd oc #tapioca cyndaquil #toffee eevee #pippa pikachu #shiloh riolu #rui riolu #i hope you enjoy them as much as i do they are all my precious little guys #oh yea!! also #casper and sprout are definitely not retired ill still post them sometimes i just started a new psmd file and fell in love with that team..#also also ill draw all their partners soon #this took me a while tho gimme like 3 years

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rose-i-guess · 6 months

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[Heavy breathing]

H,,hey guys. Guess what game I (finally) bought,,,,,

#sorry the quality of these images is ABSOLUTE ass-#posting from my phone instead of my ipad which I actually drew them on🧍🏾‍♀️#still UHHH hope you enjoy kids #persona #persona 5 #ann takamaki #ryuji sakamoto #haru okumura #p5r #OK TIME TO BE A NERD YAY. I really really love p5 and persona in general but I never talk about it-#but like. i really do love the series smmm #so ermmm shoutout to haru the character of all time. and also chie. naoto i love you. makoto i ALSO love you. and yusuke and sumi an #(I like them a normal amount (lie))

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vintagepascal · 1 year

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alfajores

AN - the poll I put up the other day won out with fluffy pedro/reader and I'm working on a request I got for it but it's taking me a hot sec, so have this one that I already have written to hold you over :) hope you enjoy!

word count - 2,900+

rating - teen

content warnings - no warnings, just fluff!

summary - you decide to surprise pedro for his birthday on set with some help from bella (ao3 link if you prefer, it's titled pedrito over there :) )

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you worry too much

You hit send, tucking your phone quickly between your thighs as you tried to relax, eyes trained on the window outside as the plane started to pull back from the jetbridge. You were never much of a liar, but you hoped desperately that you could pull this one off somehow.

Your phone buzzed. A text from Pedro, no doubt.

Mi amor, that’ll be four shifts this week. You need a break :(

You couldn’t help the smile that it brought to your face, knowing that he had no idea that you’d be seeing him so soon.

I’ll survive. Busy is good. Now go film some cool shit, tell Bella I said hi. I’ll text when I can. I love you

Love you more. and no hi for Bella, they ate all my bday cookies.

You chuckled to yourself and quickly clicked your phone over to airplane mode. You’d paid for the inflight wifi so he wouldn’t suspect anything if he happened to have enough breaks in filming to text you - he was a worrier at heart, especially when it came to those he loved, and an undelivered text would be enough to put him into a panic.

With everything set into motion, you settled back into your seat and reviewed the plan.

You’d had it in the works for a month. All behind the scenes of course, but you’d gotten everyone in on it that you could. Neil, Craig, Bella, Gabriel - anyone who would be around set. The filming schedule was insane, but you knew that they’d want Pedro’s birthday to be special, especially since he wasn’t able to come home and spend it with you.

In the years that you’d been dating, you had learned he loved a good surprise, though he would never admit it. And even more so, he would never, ever , let anyone make a big deal out of things for him. Even if he played it off for the press about loving the attention, when it came to those close to him he would much rather celebrate those around him than be the one in the spotlight.

It was no surprise that they were one hundred percent on board with throwing a bit of a surprise party, with you being the main surprise. The next part of the plan was simple - getting a few days off work had been easy enough, considering Pedro had insisted that you went part time and only worked when you wanted to once he landed another job. It was a luxury that you allowed, considering it meant you got to spend so much more time with him when he was off filming, and even go on the occasional press tour with him.

Once the flight was booked and everything else had been arranged, the hard part came - keeping the love of your life in the dark. Pedro was the type of person that you wanted to tell everything to. From the simple things, like the dog in the rain boots that you’d seen on 2nd avenue that morning, to how much you wished you could be together all the time - any thought you had flowed off your tongue so easily to him. He was your safe space, and you were his, which was a cornerstone of your relationship from day one.

Thank god you’d only finalized your plan a few weeks ago, or you weren’t sure you would have made it.

As a cover up, you found a highly rated South American bakery in Vancouver to send some of his favorite cookies and sweets to set, just like the ones his mom used to make when he was young. You sent some flowers too - hydrangeas, spray roses, gerberas - something to warm up the cold Vancouver set he’d been dealing with. He’d called you that morning from hair and makeup, so grateful and excited. You’d promised him there was more to come when you could see him in person, which he thought was in three long weeks when there was a small break in scheduling for something Bella needed to do back in London. That seemed to be enough of a birthday present from afar to satisfy him.

You hoped he was still in the dark as you watched the small plane flit across your screen, taking you mile by mile closer to him.

It was a long flight from New York to Vancouver. You spent the majority of the time doing something you didn’t get to do often on flights - watch something Pedro was in. Majority of the time, if you were on a long haul, Pedro was right beside you and in his true almost 50 year old fashion, he’d break out his headphone splitter and want to watch something with you. You’d only recently got him to agree to airpods. Obviously, that meant anything he had been in was off limits, so you took the rare chance to go back and watch Narcos - you were only in season two, and you were loving how much screen time Pena was getting.

It made you smile hearing Pedro getting to show off in both Spanish and English - he’d taught you quite a bit in your relationship, and you caught quite a few words throughout the episodes that you recognized, though most of the time you were too busy watching him to pay much attention to anything else. God, you would never understand how you’d gotten so lucky.

Halfway through an episode, a text popped up on your phone.

This is gonna be so good dude, he is proper clueless.

You laughed as you read it in Bella’s voice. A picture came through next of them holding a small cookie and running away, with a blur that you assumed was Pedro in the back.

Also, pls send more alfajores before he kills me

By the looks of the photo, they were shooting outside of the city still, which was what you had planned for. Pedro had begun a habit of sending you a picture each morning of the set for the day, a way of keeping you involved from afar. It seemed to be the same beautiful landscape as earlier - you hoped he had been having a good day so far.

The rest of the flight went off without a hitch. You texted Pedro once, feigning that you were on break at work, unsurprised that he wasn’t able to answer right away, as you knew he was busy.

The excitement really started to set in when you touched down in Vancouver. You shot a text to Craig once you landed - it was 7pm local time, and you had about an hour and a half drive to get to set. To your surprise, the crew had insisted that you got the celebrity treatment by association, and had sent you a driver who met you outside of the airport and immediately got you on your way.

You made small talk with her until the first and only hiccup of the plan appeared - Pedro’s face popped up on your phone, an adorable picture of him from last summer on your vacation to Hawaii - an incoming facetime call. Of course. He usually called you in the evenings, but it wasn’t always a facetime. As much as it killed you, you let it ring through, waiting about five minutes until you returned it with a regular call.

“Hi mi amor , everything okay? You off work?” He picked up on the first ring.

“Yeah yeah, I’m good! I’ve got a headache so I took a shower and got straight in bed, sorry I didn��t pick up.” It felt so wrong to lie, but you knew it would pay off.

“Oh no cariño, did you take some medicine? Did the shower help? There’s some of that tea I made you last time in the cabinet still, in the purple box.”

“I’m fine love, just need some sleep is all. Guess it’s a good thing I’m not there to put a damper on your birthday fun,” you teased, grinning to yourself. Your driver let out a tiny chuckle that you caught in the rearview mirror.

“Wish you were here, headache or no headache,” he sighed. “I miss you.”

“Miss you more.”

“ Mentiras. ” He said. “Lies,” he translated when you didn’t contradict him. “I won’t keep you, just wanted to see your pretty face. We can talk in the morning when you feel better, okay? Call me if you need me. I love you.”

“I love you too. Happy birthday Pedro, I’ll call you in the morning.”

“Bye amor.”

You hung up, letting your head rest back and your heart flutter as the city began to fade away behind you.

One hour later, and you were frantically texting with Bella, attempting to find the best way to surprise Pedro as you arrived on set.

Have your driver drop you off by my trailer, and I’ll sneak you into production stage. Meet you there in five.

You relayed the message and sure enough, Bella came scurrying around the corner, practically tackling you in a hug once they found you. You’d met them the first time you came to set with Pedro, back in the beginning stages of production during some team bonding time, and you knew how important their relationship was to the both of them.

“Do you think he has any idea that I’m here?” You asked, following Bella as they led you around the back of a large temporary structure that you assumed was production stage.

“Not a single fucking clue. Craig and I have been playing it off all day long, talking about how fun it would be if you were here,” Bella grinned. “I think Neil is bringing out a cake, c’mon, we gotta hurry. He’s probably in his chair, just hang back and sneak up behind him.”

As you rounded the corner, you heard the hum of voices inside and noticed the chairs. Bella gave you a quick thumbs up and hurried around so they didn’t draw any attention to you, coming in from a different angle and taking their chair next to Pedro. You spotted Neil first, walking very carefully with a large chocolate cake alit with candles in the general direction of the chairs.

Crew began to gather around and you swung to the right so you could blend in but still see Pedro’s face as he realized what was happening. They all began to sing and you watched the adorable blush spread across his cheeks. Bella was filming beside him as he smiled and blew out his candles to the applause of all of the cast and crew - it warmed your heart to see so many people celebrating the man you loved.

They took the cake to a nearby table and began to cut it, passing Pedro his piece first. In all the noise, you seized your opportunity to sneak up behind him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and squeezing gently.

“Can I have a bite?”

His eyes blew wide as he craned his neck to try and see who was behind him. You leaned back to help him out, laughing at the pure shock on his face.

“What!? What the fuck are you doing here!? You’re in New York!” He discarded his cake to the side, roughly pushing his chair out of the way to get to you as he stood up all in one move, wrapping you up in his arms. You could vaguely hear applause somewhere behind you but you didn’t care. It felt too good to be in his arms after so many weeks, your brain didn’t have much space to process anything else.

When he finally loosened up it was only to kiss you softly twice on the lips, then once on the forehead before he leaned back and grinned at you.

“You sneaky little thing.”

“Guess I’m not in New York,” you teased, popping up on your tiptoes to kiss him one more time before you disentangled from him, leaning over to give Bella a fist bump.

“Oh you knew about this? Huh?” Pedro asked.

“Of course I knew about it, I’ve known for a month man!” Bella grinned.

“Oh you see if you make it through a single take tomorrow kid,” he threatened, but they were both laughing.

“Actually, as a birthday gift, tomorrow is a rest day. Everybody can thank Y/N for that one!” Craig announced, which was met with whooping and cheers from everyone, with a few yells of your name. Pedro pulled you up against his side.

“I assume that means you’re spending the night then, eh?”

“Nah, figured I’d just pop in for five minutes and then catch the next flight out,” you grinned, rolling your eyes at him. “I’m here for three days, two nights.”

“Not long enough. Never long enough, but I’ll take what I can get,” Pedro sighed, kissing your hair. “Now get some cake so we can go home.”

Home in Vancouver was a nice apartment that Pedro was renting downtown. After cake was had, final birthday wishes were given and hugs were distributed, Pedro changed back into his own clothes and led you to his rental - an Audi, of course. He opened the passenger door for you and climbed into the driver’s seat, holding your hand as he sped off of set and back towards the city.

It didn’t matter that you had just done this drive - he held the back of your hand up to his lips, pressing soft kisses there as he drove down the highway and you couldn’t have been more content.

“I cannot believe you’re here right now. I thought I wasn’t going to see you for weeks,” he said, shaking his head. He hadn’t stopped smiling since you had appeared behind him.

“I couldn’t leave you alone on your birthday,” you sighed, leaning over and resting your head on his shoulder. It was late New York time, and the adrenaline of the day was beginning to wear off now that you were with your man.

“You can sleep cariño, I’ll wake you up when we get there,” he murmured to you.

“No, no I'm okay,” you reassured him, but it was already garbled.

The next thing you felt were soft lips on your forehead.

“We’re here mi amor. C’mon, let's get you upstairs.”

He helped you out of the car, the lobby lights of the building helping to wake you up a bit as you made it to the elevator. The driver from earlier had put your suitcase in Pedro’s car, and he managed it with ease as well. You stayed tucked up to his side as you headed up to the top floor. He unlocked the door easily, keeping one arm wrapped around you even as you walked through the door, rolling your suitcase into the corner. He kicked off his boots and tossed his keys somewhere, and then he was scooping you up, making you squeal a bit when your feet left the floor.

“God you don’t know how many times I’ve thought about you being here lately. I’ve missed you like crazy baby.” He carried you down the hallway and into the kitchen, sitting you down onto the counter. Without asking, he turned and made you a glass of ice water. “Drink. You’ve been on a plane all day.”

You listened to him, grateful for the cool liquid on your dry throat.

“I need to go get all this makeup off, but I’ll be ready for bed in five minutes. Meet you there?”

“I could go with you,” you offered, but your words were garbled by the long yawn that immediately followed. Pedro chuckled, kissing your nose.

“I don’t think I can hold you upright and wash all this grime off at the same time love. Go climb in bed. Stay awake for me, I’ll be there in just a minute,” he instructed, taking you by the hips and placing you on your feet. He didn’t let go until he was sure you were steady, and then he disappeared to the bathroom.

You didn’t even bother going for your suitcase. Instead, you moved to your boyfriend’s drawers, finding his old Lakers shirt. It smelled so much like him that it made you smile as you stripped out of everything but your underwear and pulled it on.

You climbed into bed, making yourself sit up so you wouldn’t fall back asleep as you listened to the water run in the bathroom, then turn off. Pedro was humming a song as he got ready, and you couldn’t help but grin when he emerged only a few minutes later in just his boxers, hair damp and a matching smile on his face.

He wasted no time in climbing into bed next to you, immediately reaching over and pulling you right up against him. His hands splayed out underneath your shirt, finding skin as he sighed, pressing his nose up to your neck and breathing you in.

“Ahh, mi deseo,” he breathed.

“Translate,” you whispered, eyes closed as you melted into him, trying to get your skin onto his everywhere that you could. It lit a familiar fire in you that began to burn deep.

“My wish,” he said. “I wished for you. Today, but also for so long.”

“I’m here. Right here,” you breathed, hands slotting into his hair. His fingers found purchase against your hips, pulling you over and on top of him.

“Happy birthday Pedrito.”

“Happy birthday to me,” he grinned, and got to work.

#my writing #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal writing #pedro pascal fluff #:)#hope you enjoy! my next one has some angst thrown in hehe #and im still working on my javi p one I just have the worst writers block of all time apparently lol #sorry the gif is shitty I threw it together in literally 5 minutes haha

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