ever larks

anonymous asked:

Would you do another thing with Daja? Or maybe Lark or Rosethorn. Because I'm currently questioning and I envy the easy acceptance of their gayness/bisexuality. There's no way in hell my family would be okay with me not being straight so yeah, I'd kinda like to live vicariously through them for a bit sorry for asking.

don’t ever be sorry for asking kindly for things, nonny. this one’s all yours.

when they come home from namorn, a lot of things happen—

little bear comes running and cleans all their faces while briar complains about his manly pride and nice clothes (he gives the old pup a belly rub later, when no one but daja can see him go soft and tired, because he knows she will not taunt or comfort, just stand). 

glaki comes pounding out of discipline cottage, wraps around tris like the vegetable garden is twining around briar, the way evvy is pretending she doesn’t want to, and tris pets glaki’s hair and tries not to remember how much she has grown without her.

sandry will step back into her uncle’s court the next day, and she will be sure, suddenly more sure than she’d been the whole ride back, that she had made the right decision. the citadel will smell like sealing wax and old stone and dried ink. when she steps into her uncle’s study, there will be a mantle of responsibility returned to her shoulders that is just the right weight, that is just what she wants. her uncle will look up from his letters and the light of pride in his eyes will be better than all the riches and legacy of the inheritance that she signed away to a good man. 

for now, though: “i thought the snow might give your roots frostbite,” evvy sniffs at briar. 

“doubting my training,” rosethorn warns. “i taught my boy better than that." 

it’s when rosethorn hugs briar that evvy breaks down and squeezes him tight around the ribs. briar presses one cheek into evvy’s kerchief, tangles a hand in rosethorn’s habit and doesn’t let go until he knows he can grin like he can’t smell woodsmoke on even this peaceful air. 

while glaki chases chime around the yard, tris watching like the fond sister she pretends she’s not, while briar teases evvy and sandry buries her face in the sensible cotton smell of lark, daja slips out the garden gate. 

daja climbs over the flat walks of winding circle until she finds frostpine’s forge, its little bedroom tucked above it, the sharp scents of the metals and the rounded undertone of coal and wood. she wishes everything else were so easy to distinguish by smell as copper and tin, gold and iron. 

his hug is bone-crushing, acrid, and his eyes are clever and dark when he pulls back and looks at her. frostpine gives her a spare apron of his that she’s almost big enough to wear now and a hammer that’s swimming with his magics and they strike metal, shape and sweat in silence until the day is over. daja makes hinges and crafts sigils for some heavy lock boxes that she’s sure even briar would have trouble breaking into. she makes a bucketful of nails, for old times’ sake. 

they forsake the warmth of the baths, after, and go plunge into the sea instead, like they’re hot steel they want to quench. daja’s not sure she’s the right temperature for this, the right hue of glowing red. what if it makes her brittle, not strong? what if her ore was poor quality in the first place? a trader turned lugsha, who weaseled her way back in; a woman who loves beautiful women and then leaves them. 

frostpine gets the story out of her, because he is safe the way she has known few men to ever be, because there are few people more patient in silence than she is but he is one. daja has never had a broken heart before, and she has never been one for many words, but she tries to explain. 

sandry will try to help—she will take daja out riding, keep her moving, because that is how sandry outruns her griefs, always has. she pours her heart into other things, other work. 

tris will give her books to read, because they give you a way out to better things, because they give you something to put between your face and a world that’s not interested in looking at you right. 

briar will take her out to meet pretty young women, like delicate flowers, and daja will feel sooty no matter how well she scrubs her smiths’ hands clean. 

but frostpine listens quietly. he asks her if she can smell the little bits of metal in the waves, the buried treasure far offshore. “your nose has gotten better,” he says. “i’m sorry about rizu.” they dry off, then soak in the communal baths after all, and then he walks her back to discipline. he kisses her on the forehead, warm hands on her cheeks, bristling beard ticking her nose, and says, “you might want to talk to your foster mothers.” 

"you know, rosie broke my heart once,” lark says companionably, when daja does ask, shyly, over tea and honey and milk. rosethorn blushes furiously and daja stares. lark starts to tell a story and rosethorn stomps off to find a stronger tea. 

they tell daja stories of lark the young acrobat, who fell in love with every pretty girl who came to her shows and didn’t kiss one. it’s late and they are all sleepy, guards down, when rosethorn talks about the first boy she loved, haystacks and very young promises, angry fathers. lark was the fourth woman rosethorn decided to love, and the other three names roll off rosethorn’s tongue, easy. daja listens hard for something like sorrow, like regret, and doesn’t hear it. 

“we are a lot more than the places we have decided to lay down bits of our heart,” says lark, “or the people we have offered to give our hearts to. but that’s one part of you all the same: who and what and how you love. i know it hurts right now, chickadee, but you loved her and she loved you. that matters, no matter if it lasts. living, you get bruises. you get strong muscles and bones that don’t heal right. you get so many homes and broken hearts. you live in all those places and you don’t always get to choose which ones to keep.”

“you’re a hardy one,” says rosethorn. “you’ll outlive it.”

“what rosie means is: we love you, and we’re here if you need it.”

after, daja climbs up to the thatched roof where they watched clouds get born as children. the sun is rising. she has her heavy brass-tipped staff and her own smallest chisel. she wants to carve something into the metal here, into the life’s story written out in the circling design. it might be rizu’s name. it might be her own. 

anonymous asked:

the batboys and jealousy head cannons?

Romantic Jealousy:

-Bruce gets very very cold towards anyone, including his s/o. He doesn’t know how to voice how he feels so he tries to get everyone to not want to talk to him, which can result in arguments with his s/o (which he then needs to apologize for and hesitantly explain why he acted like he did)

-Dick has faith that his s/o would never cheat on him, especially if someone kind of sleazy is hitting on them. He will, however,drape an arm around their shoulders or wrap it around their waist, basically try to maintain physical contact and assert that he’s with his s/o so that everyone knows not to even try to hit on his s/o

-Jason gets really angsty because he definitely has self-worth insecurity and looks down on himself, so he gets mopey and self-deprecating. It’s kind of up to his s/o to bring him out of this mood and tell him that none of the things he seems to think about himself aren’t true. He won’t hesitate to fight someone though if he thinks that they’re getting too too close.

-Tim tends to get depressed and think that maybe his s/o would be better off with someone else while he begins to think about all of the things he does “wrong” in life. His s/o would have to remind him that they willingly chose to date him and that even if any of the things he thought were remotely true, they would still stay by him to the end of the earth

- Duke would get kind of quiet and try to act like it doesn’t bother him that his s/o is getting hit on or anything. Sometimes people don’t realize that he’s jealous, but his s/o will notice that he’s not as effervescent and give him a peck on the cheek and squeeze his hand to reassure him

Non-Romantic:

- Damian gets jealous if someone monopolizes time with his family, say, at galas and he’ll shoot dirty looks and give mean comments to get the aforementioned offender away from him and whatever family member they’re swarming around. This happens often with girlfriends and boyfriends. Just friends in general.

-Tim sometimes gets jealous if people have really good food that he can’t have and he’ll do the longing side eye that people do, especially in restaurants and when it’s his siblings’ food

-Damian also gets jealous if someone else gets praise and he isn’t commended at all for his efforts, even if they did the same thing. He feels that his efforts go entirely unnoticed while someone else gets all the glory, which leads to his fuming internally but composed and cold on the outside

-Dick gets jealous when he thinks people are choosing to leave him behind and go to someone else, especially when it’s his close friends. His jealousy will often turn to melancholy reminiscence when he realizes that he can’t prevent or change what people do (even if he’s completely wrong and nobody is leaving him)

-Jason gets jealous and angry when people beat him in competitions, even if it’s something totally meaningless like who can get the most high scores on an arcade machine. Cue him being really pissy and shunning whoever he was competing with

-Duke gets jealous when someone gets something that he wants (ie nerdy merch, a cool book, etc.) and he’ll kind of hint that “oh hey, that’s cool. Did you just get it? Can I look at it?” until they get that he wants to borrow it for a while (he usually gives it back. Usually)

thewitchofthewylds  asked:

How did Rosethorn and Lark get together, and how long have they been together?

A lot of you are asking variations on this question, so I’ll answer the first one I received!

A coughing sickness broke out in the Mire, and the people who were taking care of the sick were overwhelmed. Lark was living there at the time, and she came to help. She got sick.  

Rosethorn came to do medicines and noticed her. Even though Lark was sick, she would do her best to tumble for the children who were sick, until she wasn’t able to any more. Rosethorn liked her. She’d look in on her when Lark was in bed, and bring Lark’s share of medicine. She could feel the pull of Lark’s magic, and as Lark began to mend, Rosethorn asked if Lark had ever been examined for magic. Lark laughed and told her not to be ridiculous.

One day, Rosethorn came and Lark was gone. The caretakers told Rosethorn that Lark had felt well enough to go home. Rosethorn got a little panicky and asked where home was, and then went hunting for Lark. She finally found her in this dreadful little room, and the door was open. She was about to go in, but as she looked inside, Lark was holding her hand over a blanket on the chair and the threads were coming out of the blanket and rising up to wrap around her hand.

Rosethorn asked her again why she never studied magic, and Lark said “I couldn’t afford it.” And Rosethorn said, “Well, you can now.” 

They’ve been together seven or eight years by now, I think.

I fixed it! :D

exkage  asked:

As I understand it, Lark and Rosethorn have been together quite a long time. Occasionally Rosethorn and Crane had gotten together. Did Lark ever join them or was that relationship strictly Rosethorn and Crane? Is it my correct understanding that Crane and Rosethorn stopped their relations?

It was strictly Rosethorn and Crane. Lark likes Crane more than Rosethorn does as a friend and as a person, but Lark is a lesbian. Crane and Rosethorn still hook up occasionally. When they have a major breakthrough on something they’ve been working really hard on, like a cure for the epidemic, they get all hot and bothered and collapse into a bed somewhere. That might last for a couple of days, they’ll argue about something, and Rosethorn will go back to Lark. Lark doesn’t mind. She knows who Rosethorn will always return to. The three of them are a family. 

If Rosethorn hadn’t found Lark, she’d probably be living alone like Crane does. 

Sherlocked report #11: Just finished Rupert’s talk. He was an absolute joy as ever! Kept larking about on the stage and came onto the stage by jumping over Sherlocks chair and sitting on it with a flourish! Sadly he couldn’t give us a dare for the release of Krypton or swimming with men, but he did joke that the latter was a bit like the ‘almost full Monty, with speedos!!’.

i meant to be resting my wrist but I COULDN’T RESIST, i logged some serious hours in stardew valley this week and was in a scribbly mood.

Masterlist: The Farewell Tour (Part 1/2)

DAY 1: Everlark Week

DAY 2: Alternate Universe Week

DAY 3: Expressions in Everlark

link to part 2

2

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air …

Up, up the long, delirious burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or ever eagle flew —
And, while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

**note two images I took at the Great State of Maine Airshow -in August of 2017

2

December 11th 1941: John Gillespie Magee Jr dies

On this day in 1941, American pilot and poet John Gillespie Magee Jr died in a plane accident over Britain. Born in Shanghai in 1922 to American and British missionary parents, Magee moved to Britain in 1931. At school, Magee was recognised for his literary talents, winning the coveted poetry prize at the prestigous Rugby School in 1938. He soon moved to the United States, and, despite earning a scholarship to Yale University, violated American official neutrality in the Second World War by volunteering for the Royal Canadian Airforce in 1939. After receiving his wings in Canada, Magee was sent to Britain and joined the No. 412 Fighter Squadron, assisting in the defense of the country following the Battle of Britain. On December 11th 1941, three days after America entered the war, the nineteen-year-old Magee was killed in a mid-air collision with a trainer plane. Magee is best known today for a poem he wrote just three months before he died - ‘High Flight’. Inspired by a high altitude test flight in a new Spitfire, Magee penned the verse and sent it enclosed with a letter to his parents. ‘High Flight’ is an iconic aviation poem, and its verses have filtered into general usage, most famously when paraphrased by President Ronald Reagan after the 1986 Challenger disaster.

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air… .

Up, up the long, delirious burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or ever eagle flew —
And, while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.