“May I sit in your lap?”
I don’t have a chance to reply,
Before her mother swoops in,
To “fix” the situation.
“Why are you in a wheelchair?”
I am cut off by a father,
“Don’t ask that! It’s rude!”
The child apologizes in a small murmur
“I love your hair
and your wheelchair!”
I want to say thank you,
But a parent apologizes,
Before I can get it through
my still clinched teeth.
There’s only been one time
a child has commented
And their parents not
Telling them no.
The parents asked me
If they were bothering me.
I said no,
And the little kid,
She made a friend.
The problem is not your kids,
It’s you teaching them,
Everything they’ve done,
To disabled people,
If you could back off,
I will treat them the same
As you would.
Except maybe I’ll be nicer.
And they will treat me
Like a human being.
This has very probably been done before but I had a thought about how the tale of Solas and Lavellan would be told like hundreds of years after the events of Trespasser and, of course, if Solas hadn’t succeeded. Also written in the style of a codex entry because I thought it would be cool! So like the hero from later games stumbles upon it! Apologies in advance.
A scroll found in an abandoned Dalish camp, detailing what seems to be a Dalish fable most probably told to the clan’s youth by older members.
A Wolf God Falls
“The story often begins with how a Halla stole the heart of The Dread Wolf. But it was something far more potent than our beloved guides that captivated Pride.
It was Freedom.
Freedom was said to be a woman who rivalled the sun in her brightness, scaring shadows away with a mere glance. Yet she also harboured the darkness of night within herself, but somehow still managed to be the moon, guiding so many through their own tenebrosity.
She was the rain that fell on hot skin, cooling and refreshing yet she was also the wind that stole the breath from those whose wickedness tainted the land, a tempest when necessary.
She was the earth in which seeds of change could grow, and on those stems that sprouted from the dirt, she began to slowly change The Dread Wolf himself. With the rain she watered those seeds, and brought the world to life in full colour. Flowers bloomed, the birds sang, and he witnessed beauty unfold before his eyes, a vision he had been too blinded by his own stubborness to see before.
With every breath she took, she breathed warmth into the cold depths of his core, blowing dust out of the chambers that lay darkened by his hubris. She awakened the Walker of Dreams, and he realised that the world he sought to destroy was not as forsaken as he once thought.
But it wasn’t enough.
He fled, carefully replacing the bars of his cage and vowed to protect himself from her love. He believedhe had granted her freedom, for he was a beast and surely she deserved more than the fearsome fangs, and eyes of crimson, stained by the lives he had taken. He thought to allow her to live in peace without the taint of his burdens and once her light had left the world only then would he continue on his path. But she would not rest for she loved the world she called her own, for all its beauty and all its flaws.
So then it was that Freedom pursued Pride.
An elaborate dance commenced between the lovers. It was a dark waltz, and they swayed to the song of all that could have been, and all that was lost. Every time she stepped forward, he stepped back into the shadows once more. But The Dread Wolf had not counted on how well she knew the man behind the blackened fur, had not realised just how far she had reached behind the mask that he had so carefully crafted and worn so beautifully.
And so they came together once more, a final battle. Every blow hurt the other in equal measure, every strike opening wounds in which the memories of their love bled out until they both fell to the ground in unison. Flame and ash surrounded them as hands grasped tightly with the last of their remaining strength.
Freedom looked at Pride one last time.
“Ar lasa mala revas…” she whispered as the light faded from his eyes.
Request: Hi! Can you please do an imagine where the
reader first comes up in the maze and when Gally jumps into the box, she beats
him up and Newt got sent down to convince her they aren’t dangerous? It would
be nice if you could include a part where he gives her a tour and they feel
something towards each other, but they are both too scared to admit it, but I
know you’re busy so I wouldn’t mind if it got excluded. Maybe things could get
a little heated if that’s okay with you…..
I know this is well
overdue. I am so extremely sorry for being so late with my imagines. I know I
asked for requests and disappeared just like that, but due to sudden
unavoidable circumstances have I been inactive on Tumblr and only now started
to write my long list of requested imagines. I promise I’ll get them done as
soon as I can.
About this one… I
kind of made Newt and the reader know each other before, because I couldn’t see
such a quick connection without familiarity. I hope you don’t mind and that
this imagine has lived up to your expectations. And again I apologize for the
You blinked a few times, willing all of this to go away.
Where were you? What were you doing here? Who were all these boys? Who were you?
You shook your head, denying everything. Why couldn’t you
remember who you were?
Your thoughts were cut short as a boy jumped into the pit
you were in. He was seventeen, maybe eighteen, with rough hands and a
disgusting nose. You felt threatened.
“Hello?” he said, edging towards you. “I know you’re probably
confused and sca-”
You lunged at him before he could finish. Your arms and legs
were flailing wildly, and your fist made contact with his jaw. He let out a
guttural scream but they were cut short as you kneed his thigh. He doubled over
and you kicked him.
Suddenly arms were pulling you back, dragging you away.
Several, actually. You thrashed and swung your limbs only to have more hands
stopping you. The boy- Gally, as you heard someone call him- was lying on his
side and groaning, blood dribbling from his mouth as people tended to him. You
felt guilty for a second, but survival instincts and panic took over your gut.
You screamed at tried to squirm your way out of these people’s grasps.
“It’s okay.” Someone said. The calmness of his voice made
you falter and look up.
Two warm brown eyes stared deeply at you. “It’s alright.
Everything’s okay.” The voice murmured, soothing you. A thumb gently rubbed
your elbows, causing ripples of calm to pulse through your body. “You’re safe.
No one’s going to hurt you.”
You felt clutching hands letting you go and only two still
clasping your forearms.
You stilled and look fully at the boy holding you. He was
tall, with soft sandy hair and thin orange lips, a tranquil and at the same
time concerned look on his face. You felt yourself trust him almost
“You promise?” you whispered, hearing your voice for the
“I promise.” He replied, squeezing your hand reassuringly.
“This here is the homestead, and there we have the fields.”
said Newt; the boy who calmed you that other day in the box. He was giving you
a tour of the Glade, the place you landed in with no recalling of how you got
here. Or before that for the matter.
“What’s that?” you asked, pointing at the vertical large gap
in the seemingly walled up site.
Newt’s expression turned dark. “It’s an entrance.” He replied.
You gave him a questioning look.
“All in good time.” He said, patting your shoulder. You felt
butterflies churn in your stomach when he touched you. You fended them off. You
just met him, right? But you couldn’t shake off the feeling that you knew him
before, like… you had a connection. Each time you smiled at each other it was
like electricity hummed in the air.
“Just don’t go in there unless you want to be torn apart and
eaten by loud and unseen creatures.” He said, causing you to snap back from
You furrowed your eyebrows and he laughed, even though there
was an edge to his tone.
He guided you through the fields explaining about the rules
as much as he could. You weren’t really paying attention to his words. All you
could think about was that cute accent in his voice, which sounded so familiar,
the way he ran his hands through his fluffy, gorgeous hair, the way his arms
contracted when he walked that tuned his biceps… until he stopped talking.
He smiled, and you blushed knowing that he knew that you
were checking him out.
You suddenly found the grass very interesting. You poked at
it with your foot, refusing to look up.
He laughed, causing you to frown. “What?”
“Nothing.” He replied. He met your gaze and smiled. “You’re
cute when you blush.”
You reddened even further.
“This might sound strange, but I feel like…” he furrowed
his eyebrows and sighed. “Forget it, it’s probably nothing.”
He continued showing you around the Glade, and all you could
do was debate in your head about whether or not to tell him about the
familiarity which you felt. After a while you decided not to, scared that he
might think you were delusional. But you could almost swear he felt it too.
It had almost been a week since you had come to the Glade.
By now you had grown accustomed to it and its rules. But not your feelings
towards Newt. The connection between you two only seemed to grow which wouldn’t
have been a bad thing if he admitted that he felt something too. You could
almost hear the hum of electricity when you were around him.
Like right now, for instance.
“Pass me that box, Y/N?” he said.
You were helping him arrange some supplies in the homestead.
You hadn’t got an official job yet so you just helped around here and there.
“When’s more stuff coming up?” you asked, handing him the
“After about three weeks.” He replied.
Newt reached for a shelf but abruptly slipped. You
instinctively reached for him, only to result in you tripping and bumping into
him; which in turn caused him to fall and land on top of you.
You blinked, your head slightly throbbing from hitting the
floor. Your gaze came into focus, and you realized that Newt’s body was pressed
against yours, his face only centimetres away. You blushed.
“I’m so sorry.” He grunted, attempting to get up.
All you could do was
redden at the proximity of your bodies, your heart beating faster. His arms
were on both sides of your head, his cascading locks brushing your brow, the
pressure of his body causing you to let out a small gasp.
Newt stopped struggling and gazed at you, then your lips.
You found yourself staring at his too.
You moaned as his lips moved against yours. Your arms
circled his neck, kissing him back, letting out all your feelings into that
embrace. Heat coursed through your body, and the feeling of his arms tightening
around you as you rolled on the floor caused you to deepen the kiss. His tongue
traced yours and youmoaned. He suddenly pulled back and both of you gasped.
You traced your fingertips along the back of his neck.
“There’s something I have to tell you.” He said, cupping
your cheek with one hand as you sat up. “Ever since I first saw you, I had this
feeling that I knew you before, like you meant something to me.” His thumb ran
gently across your jaw line. “I felt this connection, this protectiveness over
you. I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t bring myself to. I think… I think
there was something between us before, before all this.”
You leaned into his touch and lightly pecked the tips of his
fingers. “I felt the same way too. This familiar feeling came over me each time
I saw you. I think you’re right.” You felt the corners of your mouth lift. “There was something between us before.”
Newt studied you intently. “What about now?”
You furrowed your eyebrows, pretending to think deeply. “What
do you want us to be?”
“I don’t know…” he said playfully, leaning in. “A couple,
Here’s a new quick story about a topic that occured to me recently, and I wanted to write about. It’s just a quick thing so it might have a few spelling errors, sorry!
“Hey, Vidi, can you bring me a heat pack and some panadol from the Med Bay? Thnx.”
The message wasn’t hostile in any way, but Vidiris felt a small jolt of nervousness run through xir all the same. Why would Andrew need a heat pack? Wasn’t panadol that human headache tablet? Was he hurt? It could be serious, else he’d be in the Med Bay, right? The heat pack, sealed in its little case to keep it warm, felt heavy in xir claws as xe hurried to Andrew’s room. Andrew was Vidiris’ best friend, the thought of him being hurt chilled xir to xir core. Nobody had been out of the ship in weeks, what could he have hurt himself on in here?
Did he have “A Cold” again? That had been awful for all involved, especially the part with the “Fever”. It was a good thing they had more than one Medic on the ship - Dr Morris was human too, and they’d been able to heal Andrew fairly quickly. Still, hearing that xir best friend’s body was overheating him in order to cope with a common illness had scared Vidiris silly; xe’d spent the next two weeks trying very hard not to molt out of sheer stress. Feathers were really difficult for the cleaners to deal with, apparently.
You will know an abuser by their need to always, always have something on you. Abusers hate apologizing because they hate the idea that they would owe you anything, because that shifts the power dynamic so they are no longer in complete control. They will convince you you deserve their abuse because you said or did something Bad - usually what you actually did will be outright made up by them. IF they are cornered into apologizing - if they realize they’ve crossed a line and you might leave, or if someone else witnesses them abusing you and calls them on their behavior - they will play their apology for a minute or two, they will do a honeymoon period of being nice to you or just letting the conflict ease up, so you let your guard down, and then they will come up with another (usually made up) offense that you’ve committed to justify escalating their abuse, because now you’ve made them apologize and you’re STILL being Bad so the very fact that they had to apologize becomes a weapon against you. Abusers see any conflict as a game of one-upmanship rather than a dialogue where there might be some sort of equitable outcome. Everything has a winner and a loser and if they don’t always have the upper hand, they’re losing.
Once, after my abuser had a violent outburst that resulted in him trashing the living room completely, I did something I had not done before and did not do afterwards, even when his abuse had been and would be worse than that - I mentioned his behavior in my livejournal blog. As soon as he realized that other people were responding to my descriptions of what he had done with anger and were telling me that it wasn’t okay and were reaching out to me to see if they could help, he apologized. The next day he was the sweetest I had ever seen him. He bought me an expensive present that I hadn’t asked for but couldn’t refuse because I had no money (it would take me at least a year to realize that he had used my bank card and stolen all my money and that this hadn’t just been a weird random bank error). Then, that afternoon, while I was out having lunch, he called screaming about how I had lied to him about having a job interview. There was no job interview and this charge that I had lied was wholly made up but his rage so exceeded his rage the night before that I knew I was being doubly punished. It was the last time I said anything about his behavior until long after I’d left.
Abusers crave control. They need to control not only your actions, but the narrative that exists between you and around you. They feel like if they admit that they were wrong, they’ve lost control and need to get it back.
What I’m getting at here is like… I’m not saying “the discourse is abusive” or “anyone who disagrees with me is abusive” and I really, REALLY do not want anyone to take it that way, I am just saying that after experiencing this thing I just described, AS an abusive dynamic in an abusive relationship, it is really hard for me to constantly have and maintain these interactions with people who are SUPER intent on lying about things I said and then never acknowledging it when their lies are called out but responding by doubling down with more lies and calls for punishment of me. I recognize that this is not the same as that but on a weird emotional lizard-brain level it does have a tendency to FEEL the same sometimes and that’s why I often get worked up about these fights and then realize that I can’t continue with them. It’s not a rational thing but it is a trauma thing.
I have said “the discourse is anti-survivor” a lot but I think we don’t talk about, like, how the specific ways we HAVE the discourse in general are just like, weirdly inaccessible to a lot of people with trauma in this way, and how people with trauma get easily pushed out of these discussions by people who are willing to play shit this way because it’s hard enough to do this without having your PTSD exacerbated all the time.
This fic was written as a part of the DC Valentine Exchange, so it’s super fluffy and adorbs. It is also my first John Constantine fic. Enjoy!
You let out a sigh of relaxation as you shut the large, wooden door of the House of Mystery. Rough didn’t come close to describing the day you had at the lab and you were so ready to spend the evening cuddling up with your mystical occult detective boyfriend.
Dropping your bag and coat into the hall closet and you head for the kitchen to grab a snack. The lunch break you had been looking forward to earlier managed to slip through your fingers thanks to an unexpectedly overloaded schedule.
While heading down the hallway, you finally notice how quiet the house is.
“John?” You called out hoping to get a response.
A few moments pass and you call out again, receiving silence in reply. You can’t help but feel a little sad that John isn’t here. After all it is your fifth Valentine’s Day together, you don’t really expect any large declarations of love, but you didn’t think that he would skip out on the classic movie marathon that you planned last week on purpose. Standing you up was one thing, but standing up Ginger Rogers was crime in and of itself.
Once you reach the kitchen the small frown that was gracing your face turns up into a smile. Sitting on the counter is a large crystal vase with a bouquet of oriental lilies and white carnations that was definitely bigger than the microwave adjacent to it.
After turning your attention from the large mixed bouquet, you catch sight of a small card leaning against the vase. You pick it up and turn it over in your hand to read.
I know this is bloody rotten luck, but there’s been an emergency with The League. From the description, it doesn’t sound like it should take very long. I PROMISE that I WILL be back in time to spend what should be a fantastic evening with you, some egg rolls, and Ms. Rogers and Mr. Astaire. If anything goes bugger all, I’ll let you know.
Feeling a little less sad than you were five minutes ago, with the promise that John would indeed get back soon you set out to make a snack to tide you over until John got home.
With all the accoutrements of your snack laid out on the counter, you set to work. Once you have a large scone in the toaster oven to warm through, you fill a large kettle with water and move it to the stove top. You plop your Earl Grey tea bag into one of John’s Liverpool F.C. mugs and sit tight.
The water comes to a boil with an airy whistle coming from the kettle. You poor the water into the well-worn mug and set a timer. Just after the toaster oven lets you know that the scone is sufficiently warmed through.
You place it on the plate and split it in two, dolloping a bit of cream and jam onto each side. After you’ve set everything back in the fridge and grabbed the milk the timer goes off. You fish out the bag with a spoon and chuck it into the trash. All it takes is a splash of the cool liquid to make it perfect for your tastes.
Grabbing the plate laden with your scone and the mug, you head for the library. You perch you plate on the coffee table closest to the fire and head up a ladder to retrieve a book. Nothing really tickles your fancy, but you pull a book on prominent witches in Europe just for shits and giggles.
After you finish your snack you settle down on the couch and begin to read. After about a chapter or so of such riveting material you can feel your eyes beginning to droop.
A nap isn’t such a bad idea, you think, so you set the book on your chest and sink further into the couch.
You think something is touching your face. You’re still in that lovely sleepy state where you could easily slip back into a pleasant dream.
You think you’re almost back to that amazing place, when you definitely feel a tap on your forehead.
“Y/N. Love, wake up.”
“Oy, If you don’t wake up I’ll eat all of the Sweet and Sour Chicken myself.”
You flail your hands above your head in a wild swinging motion.
“Alright, alright I’m up. Stop poking me please.”
Your arms stretch out above your head, and you hear a few joints crack. The room is definitely much darker than when you fell asleep.
“What time is it?” you ask with a yawn.
John looks back at you with a sheepish grin and a scratch of his neck.
“Just about 4:30 I believe.”
You stare up at him in surprise.
“4:30….in the morning?”
All it takes is a second of contemplation before you continue.
“You are so lucky that I’m starving.”
Standing up from the couch, you grab his hand and start walking toward the kitchen. You stop short when you don’t see any food on the table.
“Eating at the table is so boring.” He pulls you out the side door. Once you both are outside he turns to you and begins to mutter an incantation. You both begin to rise from the ground. When you are up high enough to be even with the roof you see a blanket stretch out with the take away containers spread out all around.
John gently lowers you onto the roof and you move to take a seat. He lands with a thud right beside you, holding out a pair of chopsticks.
You grab them and a container of Mu Shu Pork while John goes for the chicken.
“It’s been a long time since we’ve been up here,” you say easily grabbing a piece of meat. “I forgot how calming it is to just look out at everything.”
“Yeah, it’s nice to relax after the bloody mess that was that last mission with The League.”
“You wanna tell me about it?”
“Only if you’re truly interested.”
You make a motion with your arm urging him to continue, and he jumps into the tale. Every so often you would swap containers, each of you getting an even mixture of the meal.
Well after you both have finished the food you can tell John’s story is wrapping up.
“And that’s when Swamp Thing deflected the blow, but sent Batman flying through the air landing ass first in a pile of primordial ooze. He was covered in it. I almost missed my opportunity to swoop in and save the day cause I was laughin’ so hard, love. Thought I was goin’ to piss myself. It was great,” he said with a chuckle.
You smile and lean your head on his shoulder, staring out at the beginnings of the sunrise.
“Sounds like you have a marvelous time. I’m glad you came back unscathed though.”
He tilted his head to give you a small peck on the forehead.
“I’ll always come back to you, love. I was meant to be the thorn in your side.”
Both of you laugh at the comment, and settle into a comfortable silence.
You are well on your way to getting lost in the pink and orange hues that begin to mix with the inky black of the twilight sky, when John clears his throat. Slowly you turn back to face him and raise your eyebrow in silent question.
“I know this has probably been a pretty rotten Valentine’s Day for you, love. What with me gallivanting all over the place with The League and showing up well after the day was actually over. I want to apologize for that. Truly I do, but sitting out here with you and this Chinese takeaway has been pretty damn great. And I know we’ve done this exact same thing dozens of times before, but it’s one of my favorite things to do. Just to sit back and relax with you.
“I have come to realize that I love you so much, and I want to spend as many more nights as I am able up here on this roof staring out at the sunrise with you at my side. I’m rambling a bit, but I guess what I am trying and failing to spit out is, Y/N would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
John snaps his fingers and a small black box appears in his hand. Nestled inside is a beautiful engagement ring, a simple black opal surrounded by tiny sapphires and set in silver.
You can’t help but gasp as your eyes land on the ring. “Yes, John yes! I would love to marry you!” A giggle escapes from you as you see a huge grin spread across John’s face.
“That’s bloody fantastic!” He takes the ring out of the box and slides it onto your finger. After a second of holding your hand he leans in for a kiss. One that is so sweet and loving you don’t really know what to do with yourself other than smile into it.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, love. I hope you had a great day.”
“John, I don’t think anything could top what happened today. I love you so much.”
You lean in peck his cheek and lay your head on his shoulder. You can’t help but think how amazing it will be to spend the rest of your life with wonderful man.
The following week finds Katsuki and Izuku wandering the streets outside the shopping mall, each boy carrying a small bag of goodies in hand. The initial idea had been to go get breakfast and enjoy it in the park across the way, but the park was closed due to a tree falling on a power line from a recent storm, and so they’d decided to simply head home and enjoy their spoils instead.
On the way home however, Izuku catches sight of something that had his entire body lightening up with joy.
“The fuck are yo–” That’s as far as Katsuki gets before his smaller friend quite literally drags himacross the street to join the throng of people currently watching a group of heroes take down a villain. Katsuki finds his hands full of a second bag in the next instant, as Izuku whips out a notebook from inside his jacket and a pen, and flips to a new page before furiously scribbling. When he looks up again, it’s just in time to see the heroes come into better view - Kamui Woods is the star of the show today, with Desutegoro and Backdraft providing help and protection to the civilians.
“Kacchan! Look, look Kacchan, there they are! Kacchan, are you loo–”
“I’m looking, you damned nerd, so stop bouncing around and screaming like a banshee. Fuck’s sake, you’re worse than a little kid.”
Izuku pays exactly zero attention to his words, instead seeming to hunch down on himself as a look of fierce concentration crosses his face. in the next moment the air around him is filled with muttering. Katsuki rubs a hand across his face as people glance at them.
From what I’ve read in the books, I dislike the way Hecate children do magic, which is pretty similar to the Kane Chronicles. So in my view, it’s done in more of a Harry Potter sense of magic.
Children of Hecate have to have extreme control over their mental and physical forms to perform magic. They have to memorize all of the spells and clearly understand the theories behind them to be able to control them, as well as how to manipulate spells.
Wands are not needed to do magic, but they are used to focus your magic and are usually used across more beginner children of Hecate. As I said, extreme control. For younger children of Hecate, they need wands because they do not yet have the control to do wandless magic. To a well-practiced child of Hecate, a wand may be seen as more of hindrance than a help.
It’s not a cure-all. There’s karma. For example, using a spell to draw energy from things around them may cause a child of Hecate’s strength to grow, but it will kill the things they took energy from. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. (My inner science nerd is powering up sorry).
Now, there’s a reason for all of this control that’s needed. With great power comes great responsibility, essentially. They need to learn to control themselves and their power in order to keep not only themselves but others safe. In my mind and writing, children of Hecate are extremely powerful, but that power comes with a cost. With a weight, a weight of not only knowledge but of sacrifice as well.
Children of Hecate usually work off of scrolls/runes to learn spells, or learn from a master. They have to either have the scroll directly in front of them, or have the move memorized. The more they do a certain spell, the better they do the next time they cast it.
The magic children of Hecate posses is sectioned off into branches. There’s main branches, destruction, conjuration, healing, alteration, illusion, and alchemy/enchanting. Children of Hecate can overlap, studying magic from multiple branches, but they do not have enough power to study all the branches, and usually only have an innate affinity for one.
Destruction magic: Magic which destroys others, offensive magic. Spells that are used solely to attack others. Usually a child of Hecate will find an affinity or even just a preference for one basic element, such as fire, water, air, etc.
Conjuration magic: Magic which conjures, can be offensive, defensive, or neutral. For example, you can conjure a creature to fight for you, you can conjure a shield to protect you, or you can conjure a shovel because you really need to hide that body but don’t wanna leave your dna all over an actual shovel. One attacks, one defends, and one is simply a temporary tool.
Healing magic: Magic which can be used to heal yourself or others. Defensive magic. Healing is pretty self explanatory.
Alteration magic: The altering of something already in the world. Example, turning straw to gold. However, this branch requires a really good understanding of the elements and specific mastery of each type. For example, you want to make glass in a jiffy? You have to find sand and fire, and you need to have a specific idea in your mind as well as a specific spell for that object. Probably the toughest branch because one wrong move and kla-blamo.
Illusion magic: Hiding or altering perceptions. Muffling your footsteps, turning yourself invisible. Sure you could put all of your energy into making yourself transparent, OR you could just put like 10% of your energy into blacking out that monster’s sight so they can’t see you. This branch isn’t about actually changing the world, it’s about altering perceptions. Getting into people’s heads through spells cast on specific people or groups. That means they can also detect things like lies, or perhaps even cast telepathic spells.
Alchemy/enchanting: For people who don’t like actually casting spells that much. Alchemy is potions, which requires vast knowledge of the world around you, not super hard but very easy to get yourself killed if you don’t have a good teacher and you’re stupid. Enchanting is very hard, not for beginners, very very easy to kill yourself or someone else even if you’re not stupid.
And honestly? I don’t see a lot of pros of being a child of Hecate. You need to be rigorous, you need to be strict in your duties and studies, you need to be ready to sacrifice a lot to Hecate. Sure you get cool powers, but it’s also very likely you’ll kill someone unless you’re careful.
That’s how I see Hecate, but you can totally just dump this in the trash and interpret her and her powers in another way. But Hecate is insanely powerful, and she’s a minor goddess. I think because of that, being one of her children comes at an insane cost.
-the first time you meet is after the bombing at her first L Corp press appearance and you were the one firefighter that got hit by shrapnel from a secondary explosion
-Lena has always personally visited victims and tried to make up for any harm that has been done by her family so she showed up in your hospital room that night with flowers and a profusely sincere apology
-you had assured her that you were fine and just waiting to be discharged and she insisted on driving you back to your apartment
-before you got out of her car you built up the nerve to ask her if she’d like to get dinner at the end of the week because come on when were you going to get another chance to ask out Lena freaking Luthor
-after your first date you fall into a relatively casual relationship
-you take her on a tour of the fire station for your third date because you were on call that night and couldn’t leave and god lena would be lying if she hadn’t driven home incredible sexually frustrated from seeing you in your work clothes
-literally almost choked to death on her morning coffee when she saw you doing pushups in her living room the first time you spent the night bc she knew you worked out in the morning but damn
-secretly winces every time your pager goes off because she can’t help but see you laying on a gurney like the first time she saw you
I thought it would be fun to start up a tag I’ve seen a few times on simblr. Apologies if this has been done before, but I thought this was a cute idea!
Rules: Using any Sims game, create a sim based upon the style of one of your favourite simmers! Be sure to tag them and your friends! :3
I have created a sim based upon the sims style of @storylegacysims! Her style is so distinctive and I feel I failed miserably but the sim is kinda cute? I also tried to edit like you, Molly, but again - I FAIL.
Small Gency H!C: Genji's "Angela!" line is him having made a Freudian slip of his repressed feelings for the doctor after an 'exciting' occurrence.
That’s so cute, yes!
She got caught up in the middle of battle, surrounded by enemies with their guns raised. In the chaos, she didn’t notice Genji desperately trying to get her attention.
It’s only after he screams her name, her first name, that she looks up to him on a ledge of a building. Using her suit, she flies to him, being caught into his arm as he pulls her safely inside.
For a moment, it almost escapes her notice what he called her. Just as he pulls back to ask if she’s okay, she looks at him.
“You called me Angela.”
Its the first time he’s ever said it. He’s always polite and formal, but he’s been lingering in her labs, and leaving small notes and flowers on her desk. Something that no one else has done for her before.
If the mask wasn’t hiding his face, she’d have seen the blush lighting up his cheeks as he tries to apologize. Calling her Dr. Ziegler before she can stop him.
“Genji, please. Call me Angela.”
His cheeks warm even more, before nodding, and saying it quietly again. Loving the way it tastes on his tongue. She smiles, soft and gentle, before she takes his hand and leads him back to the battlefield.
15. things you said with too many miles between us
*I know the epistolary form has been done before, but this popped into my head and I couldn’t shake it. Also, please excuse any errors or inconsistencies in terms of knitting, proper terms or how they speak, or whether or not the lake is real (it is). I did very little research as it’s almost midnight my time :-)
I hope this letter finds you in good health. Are you wearing the new sweater I knitted you? I apologize for the one sleeve that’s longer than the other, I started thinking about something and lost track of where I was while knitting. Perhaps you can just fold it over? Or use it as a mitten, haha.
The castle grows colder with each passing day, as does our bed. I miss you. Do you still think you’ll make it home before Yule? Elsa is planning a big one again this year, I think she’s still trying to make up for all the years we spent apart. She still remembers how much I love this time of year. I’m just looking forward to all the chocolate, and to warm nights by the fire in your arms. I miss you. Did I say that already? Well, I do.
I’ve been keeping well, staying busy as much as I can. Elsa has greatly reduced my duties, which is utterly ridiculous in my opinion, I am still fully capable. I guess it didn’t help when I fell asleep whilst arbitrating a land dispute, it’s not my fault both parties were stubborn mules and also so dreadfully boring. I long to go outside, to ice skate, to play in the snow with the village children, but I’m afraid Gerda will have a fit should I fall or anything untoward should happen to me on her watch. She’s been guarding me like a mother hen. I appreciate it though, I adore her.
I miss you. I miss you by my side. I miss your hand in mine, I miss your strong arms. I miss your touch, I miss your kisses, I miss snuggling into you at night (I’m sure you don’t miss my cold feet on your legs!).
Please come home soon.
My dearest Anna,
Thank you for your letter dated 12th December. I had to laugh at the poor soul you charged with bringing this letter. He was quite adamant I read it right then and there, that Princess Anna had demanded it was of utmost importance. I managed to calm him down and reassure him, he’s now having a spot of glogg and getting warm by the fire as I write this.
I am indeed wearing your sweater, which is lovely by the way, and certainly gets the job done. I really don’t mind the one longer sleeve. It’s actually quite handy when one’s nose starts running and there are no handkerchiefs around. Haha.
I miss you so very much as well. You don’t know how much. The nights are so long and so cold without you. I keep myself warm with thoughts of you. I hope to make it back before the Yuletide celebrations, the work is going smoothly and the men are in good spirits. God willing we’ll only be here for a few more days. I’m happy to hear of Elsa’s plans. She certainly talked my ear off about it before I left, so I’m quite anxious to see what she has in store. I’m not supposed to tell, but since you’re my wife now and I’d have to live with the fallout of you finding out that I knew and never told you, but Elsa has a surprise for you. Please try to act surprised when she finally reveals it.
I am glad you are keeping well, and God bless Gerda for watching out for you. Remind me to put an extra bottle of lutefisk in her stocking this year. I’m afraid I’ll have to agree with Gerda though, my love. Please don’t do anything crazy, you could get away with ice skating in the early months but it’s much more dangerous to do so now. I know it’s boring to stay in the castle and entertain dull politicians (forgive me but I laughed heartily at you falling asleep on those landowners), but it will only be for a little while longer. Soon enough we’ll have a little one around to keep us all busy. I cannot wait for that day.
I will be home soon, but I will think of you constantly until that moment. Before you know it, I’ll be hoisting you in my arms and carrying you back to our room, and to our bed. I don’t plan on either of us moving from that bed for a long time after that.
To all my followers, especially the ones that continually follow me and like my work, thank you. I haven’t really been running this blog very professionally so it always means a lot when I see the same names still liking my posts. I’m still pretty early in my career and haven’t quite found a grasp on how to have a professional online presence. I’m going to be working on that in the coming months.
Anyway, thank you so much for following me! Hope everyone has had a good summer. Expect some spookier illustrations to start emerging as we approach Halloween season ): )