gold candlesticks

Champagne Kisses

Prompt:  Best Man Lin sneaks alcohol to a wedding and asks a lonely Y/N for a dance.

Pairing: Lin x reader

Words: 3,349

A/N: It’s here! This is my longest fic EVER. This was inspired by the pictures from the Chicago magazine that, at the moment, I can’t seem to think of. But I KNOW you guys know what I’m talking about. The one with the blue suit? Lin was SO handsome in the pictures! Anywho, I hope you guys enjoy and let me know what you think!

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Three months ago, you received a wedding invitation from your childhood best friend. Even though you and Amelia have drifted apart over the years, you still remember your silly teenage conversations with her about the “perfect” wedding. With a quick glance at the beautiful gothic-styled church, you were delighted to find it was exactly what she imagined it to be.

You fidgeted nervously in your car, watching as strikingly dressed couples and families made their way to the church.

You’ve never been to a wedding alone before.

You tried not to linger on the last minute cancellation from your plus one, but you couldn’t help to feel anxious as you watched strangers pass your car. Other than her family members, you didn’t know a single person at the wedding.

Mustering up all your courage, you climbed out of your car, smoothing down the invisible wrinkles on your nude colored dress. You started to walk towards the church, smiling politely at the people you passed.

At the entrance, people were gathered around a table, signing the guest book. Three men donning blue suits and white button-up shirts were off to the side, greeting guests as they passed them.

Must be the groomsmen, you thought, giggling quietly at their contagious energy and gleaming smiles.

Seeing that the table was finally free, you stepped forward to examine the book. Guests signed their names and added a brief message to the couple. You tapped the pen against the table, pondering on what to write.

“Hi, are you with the groom or the bride?”

You turn towards the voice, surprised to find one of the groomsmen next to you.

He was handsome, with a five o’clock shadow and perfectly quaffed hair. An easy smile was on his lips, radiating a friendly attitude.

“The bride,” you say, returning his smile. “I was a childhood friend of Amelia’s,” you explain at his quirked brow.

“I’m Henry’s cousin,” the man, whom you officially dubbed Mr. Handsome, replies.

Silence settles in between the two of you, and the same uncertainty that you’ve felt earlier started to creep up your spine.

“Here, don’t forget to grab the bubbles,” he says suddenly, taking a couple bottles from a basket beside the guest book. “We’re going to use them after the ceremony.”

You accept them, chuckling, and tuck them into your clutch. “Thank you.”

He grins and was about to say something further when a frazzled young woman holding a clipboard grasped his arm and tugged him towards the other groomsmen.

“Pictures! We need pictures before the ceremony,” she urges, voice shrill.

Mr. Handsome barely had time to wave goodbye to you before he was ushered outside.

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3
Words: 5,745
Dean x Reader
Warnings: none! fluffy Dean fluff!
Requested by queen-dean-of-erebor: Dean x Reader based on episode where Dean LARPs with Charlie. Dean sees Y/N in outfit and gets flustered. Fluff while they LARP!
and anonymous: “Can you do a Dean x Artist! Reader?? I love your fanfics and this would be amazing! Please and thank you!”
A/N: Charlie is frickin’ fun as hell to write. I need to write more of her! Hope you guys enjoy this. I’m sort of in love with this one shot.

Your name: submit What is this?

”Did Charlie say why she needed us to come up? I mean, how did she sound?”

”I don’t know, Sam, she sounded like Charlie,” Dean said with a trace of annoyance in his voice, in reality because he was worrying. He adjusted his hands on the steering wheel, grasping it far tighter than need be. “And I already told you she wouldn’t say. I tried to squeeze it out of her but she wasn’t having it!”

Sam sighed and creased appeared between his eyebrows. “I just hope everything is alright. She’s been through enough to last a lifetime,” he finished.

”Yeah,” Dean agreed gruffly. “Well, whatever it is we’re there for her. She knows that.”

The boys continued the rest of the drive in silence, except for the noise of the road and the same old rock tapes Dean had blaring on repeat. Each of them was mulling over what could possibly cause Charlie to call them and urge them to head up and meet her.

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Better With You By My Side

prompt: Dan and Phil are both sons of rich families and are sent to ballroom dancing lessons. Because there is a shortage of girls, Dan and Phil end up as partners. Phil really doesn’t want to be there and Dan doesn’t either, but is so frustrated by the fact Phil doesn’t want to dance with him he is determined to get him to.

a/n: oh my gOD this chapter is so long wtf i’m so sorry so much happens it takes quite a dark turn towards the end and it gets very very emo i really wasn’t kidding when i said shit happens in vienna

tw; brief mentions of suicide attempts, self-harm & smoking

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS

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Eighteen

Dan opens his eyes to the mid-morning sun struggling through the slightly parted curtains, warming the room with its golden, mid-July glow. He studies the room with a sleepy squint, and a couple of seconds of recollection is all he needs to realise that no, this isn’t a dream and Phil is still fast asleep beside him, his hair unruly and his breathing steady. He smiles softly, taking a moment to study his sleeping expression, contrasting his usual, carefully composed, thoughtful expression Dan so often sees him with. Without composure, it’s so different, so vulnerable, and it’s laughable because he’d almost say it’s innocent.

He sighs through his nose, staring up at the ceiling and wondering when the last time he fell asleep with someone who was still actually there when he woke up, was. True, they are on a supposedly ‘educational’ trip as opposed to back home in London, but even still; if Ryan tried a sly morning escape in Vienna, it wouldn’t exactly surprise him.

It isn’t long before his black-haired partner rolls over, inhaling deeply and consuming himself in a stretch before burying himself back into the duvet and opening his eyes, blinking sleepily at Dan.

Dan gives him a lazy half-smile. “Morning.”

Phil frowns, hesitating quietly before sighing, shutting his eyes again. “What’s the time?” His voice is scratchy and thin with sleep, creating another contrast to the daytime smoothness Dan’s used to. He reckons it’s probably the smoking as well as the morning fatigue, though, and he screws up his face when the small cardboard Marlboro pack sticking out of his tatty rucksack catches his eye.

“Er- I don’t know, something-past-eight, I think.” Dan cracks his back as he stretches, and Phil winces. He sits up, still frowning at the cigarette packet. “You’re not planning on doing that, are you?”

“What?” Phil frowns, sitting up and flicking his fringe out of his eye. “Having a rucksack? Look, I know it’s not exactly new anymore, but-”

“Not the rucksack, you pillock.” Dan shuts his eyes. “In the rucksack?”
“Wh- oh, that.” Phil smirks lazily, leaning over the bed and reaching for it, his pyjama shirt rucking up slightly in the process and exposing the paper-white skin of his torso. He drags the pack out, sitting back on the bed and flicking the card lid open. He whips one out, playing with it in some kind of admiration that Dan’s disgusted by.

“Don’t even think about it.” Dan whips it straight out of his fingers and tucks it under his pillow out of his reach. “We’d be in enough trouble already if they found out about the wine.”

“But they’re not going to find out, are they?” Phil’s eyes glitter, and he half-grins, leaning over Dan and retrieving his cigarette, sliding it back into the pack and dropping it on the floor in the approximate direction of wherever his open rucksack is. He sighs, flopping back down onto his pillow and staring at the ceiling.

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Updated and expanded here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6645298

YOU’RE ON.

Everybody knows Bilbo Baggins returned from his strange adventure with enough gold to fill a several rooms in Bag End (and that’s probably with a few piles left spilling over into the hallway). After all, dwarves love gold and it was a known fact that Bilbo had come back with one of them, too.

For several months the Shire gave Bilbo a wide berth because of his strange new guest. Friend. Husband. (Did a hobbit that got married outside the Shire count as married? It was a subject of debate many a night at the Green Dragon.) For several months Bilbo enjoyed the lack of visitors immensely. 

He might have had the opportunity to get used to it, except of course Bilbo was closely related to Tooks. Now if he’d had only Proudfoots and Bolgers in his family tree he might have managed to spend the rest of his life without visitors. By the time they got over their fear they probably would have settled comfortably into the habit of not visiting Bag End, of not risking a conversation with Bilbo and his dwarven… companion. Not so with the Tooks.

One spring morning Ivyblossom Took knocks on the green door of Bag End fearlessly. She is wearing her favorite yellow dress and a new hat. Her husband, Adriac, is a few steps away from her, puffing on a pipe and pretending not to be at all interested in who would open the door. But they are both disappointed when the only face that appears on the other side of the door is Bilbo’s. He looks much like he did before he disappeared for a year on an adventure except he’s not wearing a jacket or even a weskit and it’s half past eleven in the morning. 

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In Ascension I had Fiona say to Cailan that if the Chantry actually wanted to help elves, they wouldn’t come once a year with prayers and a few sovereigns worth of food, they’d sell their gold candlesticks and use that to help, and they’d post templars to stop slavers.

I forgot Kirkwall had a massive gold statue of Andraste, and then got really mad.

Like, why a statue of gold? You could sell that and help so many people.

Is a statue made of wood somehow less holy? 

IDK, I’m just really mad.

Like, why??? YOU COULD HELP PEOPLE INSTEAD.

The Masquerade [Setting]

Security is taking shifts checking faces and ID at the door–just inside, the convention hall has been transformed into a ballroom worthy of corporate royalty.

The polished marble floors, white and crackled with flecks of metallic gold, spread out underneath a grand display of the company’s financial resources; banquet tables line the walls, an infinite buffet generously provided to each and every attendee, round tables with plush gold and white dining chairs circling them for their comfort. Shining gold candlesticks featuring imagery of the sun mark the centrepiece of each one, accompanied by bursts of marigold flowers and baby’s breath, shining silverware and shining white plates.

The food itself is something to behold, an assortment of pleasantly seasoned roulades, beef strips wrapped around steamed spring onion, ratatouille, and heavy pots of spiced pumpkin soup, whole roast chickens, whole roast flying desert rat (a Desert Bluffs local specialty), and an assortment of Strexy Corper’s legendary desserts–enough to induce a sugar rush and a heavy stomach just by looking. Punch bubbles in pristine crystal bowls with glass ladles for serving, and the open bar against the far end of the room is already busy with eager employees.

In the centre of the room is a broad dance floor; two chandeliers are suspended over it, glimmering with stained glass suns and smiles, casting a golden glow down below. No expense has been spared in the lighting or the decor, luxurious drapes of gold fabric sweeping from fixture to fixture, adorned with stunning beadwork of genuine human teeth.

A stage has been erected in the center of the back wall, framed by golden curtains, and live (for the time being) musicians play a mesmerizing assortment of classical music on violins, flutes, clarinets and the like. A breathtaking grand piano has been set up on a platform nearby–the body is glass, and every string and sinew inside is visible, hammers just waiting to strike and strum some haunting seasonal tune. The air is scented pleasantly with vanilla–some fine concoction vented through the hall. Upon taking it in, guests who had never felt the touch of re-education might find themselves seriously considering the benefits of volunteering, and believing in a Smiling God.

The patrons themselves–many fashionably early–mill about, enjoying the food, music, and mandatory company. The members of the Family themselves are there among them, finding entertainment amid creative and extravagant masks and costume.

Welcome to the StrexCorp Masquerade. We are you. But who are you?

[Please do not rp off this thread–it is for establishing setting only. But feel free to reblog for reference!]

anonymous asked:

I noticed there was a sign 2 for 4 gold in one of your posts and was wondering if gold was the currency most used in town and if so are they big coins small coins or are they by weight or just whatever gold citizens have happened to have hoarded over the years

Currency in the Netherworld is a bit rambling and up to significant interpretation.

Because huge swaths of the population have access to a tremendous amount of magic at their personal disposal, and those that do not have various other qualities – be it strength or story telling or singing (or in the case of Red Kelp when she has had too much candy… “dancing"), goods and services are as often traded, or simply given away, as paid for.

The oddities of an economic system where you have a continual input (i.e. “heroes invading and being destroyed”) and very little exit (i.e. “undead and others exist for centuries”) wreck any sense of wealth. You can just, simply, wait long enough to accumulate material goods if that is your desire.

So the need or desire for gold typically comes because they are working on a project (gold makes delightful candlesticks) or as a spell component.