GW2 Fashion Week Day 2

Adra Nimbleclaw - engineer, former Iron Legion member, newly recruited Pact member and a big fan of Moto’s Super Adventure Box. Eccentric, naive, reckless and a sensitive Charr with a cheery personality to keep up the moral of her comrades. She makes and upgrades weapons to make the most efficient and memorable fights against the enemies.

Weapons: Super Hyperbeam Alpha & Gold Fractal Pistol


  •  Helm: Adventurer’s Mantle
  •  Shoulders: Marauder’s Shoulderguards
  •  Chest: Glorious Brigandine
  •  Gloves: Priory’s Historical Vambraces
  •  Pants: Mist Walker Leggings
  •  Boots: Rubicon Boots
  •  Back: Plush Moto

Dyes: Ash, Gold, Blue Shade, Midnight Ice, Peanut Butter

Fading Hours

(The best thing about writing is never knowing what the characters you’re writing may do. Even if you think you know, they can still surprise you. It’s awesome. New fic, new layer to the story, even if it seemed complete.

Okay, technically it wasn’t a prompt, but @pyritea​ mentioned a song, and it suited the story so well I decided to go through with it, so still counting it as a prompt.

There are no end-game spoilers as such, but there are strong suggestions that might be spoilery.

Also, romance scenes. Well, kind of. And since the fic is almost 3k-words long, I’m uploading just the first part, and if you like it and want to read the rest, follow the link over to AO3.)

prompt: Fading hours of pleasure and pain, trust me now, it wasn’t in vain. In this life some things will remain from fading hours. - from Fading Hours by Rage

When he wakes up, she is not beside him. Thaos reaches out, but the space on the other side of the bed is empty. He tries to blink sleep out of his eyes, then sits up on the mattress, still not as coordinated and conscious as he would like to be. It is no surprise; it has been months since they slept in a proper bed.

She is standing at the window, in a simple, sleeveless linen nightgown. In the moonlight, with her hair down, she looks like a silver figurine – she would look like it, if silver was soft. She seems lost in thoughts, her gaze focused somewhere far away – or far in the past. He hopes it is not the latter, but knows her well enough not to really believe in that possibility.

She cannot find peace for long, even here, in Teir Evron – the name seemed strange at first, but its meaning became clear the first night they looked up into the sky. It is a good place to be – a village at the borders of old Engwith, slowly growing into a town. People are kind and welcoming, curious about the gods, so there is much teaching to do, and they are building a sanctuary to Woedica – the more work they have, the less time to spend on musings and memories. It is a busy, rather quiet life; a moment of respite before they will have to continue their journey. Which, sooner or later, they will have to do.

But for now, there is work… Maybe it is not honest, but when he can see sparks of hope and awe kindling in people’s eyes as he tells them of the gods, he knows it is good work. It grounds him, gives him purpose, reminds him why he believed it was not only the necessary thing to do, but also the right thing to do.

And in the evenings, there is the chirping of grasshoppers, the sweet songs of the nightingales, and a warm, comforting presence beside him. Most nights, it is enough just to know she is near, to hear her even breaths when he wakes, to let them lull him back to sleep. They pretend to be married, for the sake of the villagers; it makes little difference, because he does not even look at other women anyway. They live near the temple they’re building, so no one would probably take much notice, but this little lie lets them behave just as they did on the road. Supporting each other whenever they need it.

And it seem that is precisely what she needs right now. Quietly, he gets out of bed and walks over to her.

“You should rest,” he whispers, his voice still hoarse from sleep, gently touching her arm to get her attention.

She turns, startled. Then smiles at him, her expression something between sadness and amusement.

“You were having a dream,” she says, slightly uncomfortable. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

Thaos swallows a curse. Then grits his teeth together to stop a sigh. “You could…” he starts, and immediately breaks off.

“You know very well what a terrible idea that would be,” she replies, her voice falsely light and carefree.

Yes, he has already forgotten himself once, let his thoughts stray too far away from their great cause. Woedica remembers, and they would be wise never to offend his Queen that way again.

That is why he did not finish the thought, held back the instinctive response that she should have woken him up. That is why she does not answer she might have wanted to.

She slips under his arm, embracing him, resting her head in the crook of his neck. In moments like this, he wishes he had her sensitivity, wishes he could sense her moods as well as she reads his, that he could repay all the times she has offered comfort before he even knew he wanted to ask for it. But all he can do is try to be gentle with her. Thankfully, it seems to be enough – maybe because she had lost everything else. It is not right, but it makes their strange arrangement work.

His deep sigh ruffles the hair at the top of her head. “Do you dream?” he whispers softly.

“No”. She nestles closer, and her nose tickles his neck briefly. “I didn’t have anyone when…” her voice falters. “I didn’t have anyone. There’s no one to dream about.”

“You could have someone,” he suggests. “Not here, not after what we’ve told them, but the next place we go…”

She pulls away a little, just enough to be able to look into his eyes. “Someone who would know nothing about it?” she asks quietly. “Someone who would not understand?” Slowly, she shakes her head. “No.” She forces a smile. “And imagine what a disaster it would be if I talked in my sleep one night.”

She tries to make light of it, but the concern is justified and serious. They must keep the secrets buried. If she found someone, she could never share her sorrows, and that is no way to live, either.

He strokes her hair, the motions perhaps even more soothing to him than to her. He asked and she gave him her word, and he feels he owes her something for carrying that burden with him.

“Perhaps I could give you dreams,” he offers in a whisper, his lips close to her ear. “If you wanted,” he adds immediately. “If you think it could be enough…”

“Thank you.” She finds his hand and squeezes it gently. “But it doesn’t matter what I think.”


anonymous asked:

new developments on my joy Adra- I never thought about shopping carts before and lord imagine sitting in one of those going down a steep hill I can already feel the rush

(Pt 2) joys would take those carts for a spin all the time. who wouldn’t? sometimes it’s good to feel young       

I heard that Mad Gear and The Missile Kid stole the Witch’s cart and rode it down a mountain at three am while screaming curses at the sky and setting off fireworks. Could be true, could be a lie, who even knows anymore.



anonymous asked:

Goldie you are a goddess in disguise. A deity living among the dust. Thank you. I've got five carbons and a copper ring for you. Just because. Keep up the good business love. -Adra

Oh my, now I’m blushin’. You are the sweetest, my friend. Thank you.
Stay safe, and let me know if you need anything else!
xoxo, Goldie

Callie and Adra


Callie! I have missed you dearly, dear! I’m glad to see you well and positively glowing. Who was that makeup idol of yours?

Hello my darling! I missed you too. We must get together A.S.A.P. Oh his name is Gregory Nicotero, he is a damn legend. I’ve never fangirled so hard in my life.

good evening everybody!! mis(h)adra #10 is out!! you can read it for free here, and if you love, you can buy it here! thank you all for waiting patiently! i wanted to mention here that the first half of this chapter is based off of real things that i saw/heard in a vision while having an aura before a seizure. (it was scary!) i hope you all enjoy this chapter and thank you for your support ~*~* (and as always, please feel free to message me anytime with questions or thoughts about epilepsy!)

it’s the 15th! mis(h)adra #11 is hereeee ( ^ and here’s an alt-color version of the cover!! i never really get to draw these characters outside of the comic’s palette so i got a lil hype.) you can read it for free, and if you really like it, please buy it! 

edit: on twitter, i talked a little more about the thoughts behind this chapter, so i thought i’d elaborate on this too: it’s hard for me to tell bc i wrote it, but this chapter (and the ones surrounding it) is pretty depresso because this is the point where a lot of the frustration comes out… obvi the whole comic has been about the struggle of having epilepsy but this chapter+ is about “i’m too tired i can’t care anymore.” in more ways than one! that was a place i struggled with for a long time =____= i really only snapped out of it until right before i started mis(h)adra and i’m glad that i’m no longer there.

after this, there are only a few chapters of the story left T____T getting a little bittersweet! it’s been a wild ride, and without this comic, i wouldn’t have been able to work through my epilepsy as well as i have or be able to talk to so many amazing people about it. thinking about that makes me really happy ^\\^ thanks to everybody for reading this far in!! as always, my askbox, twitter (@DELTAHEAD_), and email (iasminomarata@gmail) are always open for questions about epilepsy. happy reading! (even though it’s pretty depresso at this point)