“This isn’t some vanity nameplate.” says self-promoting wanker about company literally named after himself, which has been founded expressly to promote his books, tours and merchandise and to get him on the telly and radio.
It’s the one inkling we get from Jon Snow this season that he remembers his “little sister.” A five-word observation after he receives news that the little girl he thought perished in King’s Landing with Ned so long ago is actually alive and home. It’s criminally underwhelming, almost brutally so when compared to the music-swelling-snowfall scene of the first Stark reunion last season between two distant, but relieved siblings. And when you put the “I thought Arya was dead” line side by side with Jon’s actual characterization, it is heartbreakingly lackluster.
Never mind all the times Jon thinks of Arya over the books - missing her, wishing he were with her, thinking of her - the first time Jon hears of “Arya’s” being alive and at home in Winterfell, the scene is vastly different:
“…Roose Bolton summons all leal lords to Barrowton, to affirm their loyalty to the Iron Throne and celebrate his son’s wedding to …" His heart seemed to stop for a moment. No, that is not possible. She died in King’s Landing, with Father. (Jon Snow, A Dance with Dragons)
It’s not the first time Arya is referenced alongside Jon’s heart, nor is it the last. The rest of the book highlights Jon’s struggle to love Arya (his family) against the Night’s Watch (his duty); a struggle that ultimately ends in Jon’s death. This little girl, the one he’s wanted back and safe with him for so fucking long, the one he was going to willingly break his vows for, gets barely a passing thought in the show.
And I’m motherfucking mad about that.
Because it’s been clear for a long time that D&D view ASOIAF as a buffet, picking and choosing what entrees and what sides they want to mix and match, never once stopping to think do these even go together? They’re taking one of the most obviously loving relationships in this series, one that’s been hammered over our (and their) heads time and time again by GRRM, and just…completely trashing it? And for what? I can’t for the life of me figure out what their game is, besides disliking Arya and wanting to shove her to the backburner in favor of her sister who is a much more malleable character for them to play with.
I don’t really know where I was intending on going with this besides A) expressing how disappointed and pissed off I am, as well as B) reasserting that Arya Stark very much does mean the world to Jon Snow, and he should’ve shown that tonight.
I had a lot of feelings this week. This is what came out of them.
Spoilers for Episode 85 ahoy.
When Percy opens the door to the inn room, he sees Vex standing in front of a long mirror. Her hair is loose, cascading over her shoulders and back in long waves, and she’s wielding a brush as fiercely as she might wield her bow, yanking on a knot near her ear. When she notices him, she doesn’t look up. “We have enough money to each have our own rooms, you know.”
After the last couple of days, he doesn’t take it personally. “I’m sorry, is this Vex I’m speaking with?” he says mildly. “Maybe our rakshasa friend came back early and replaced her.”
“Fuck you,” she replies, but her heart is clearly not in it.
I’m sorry, I just keep on thinking about a Jeeves and Wooster modern AU and I need to share my feelings soooooooo…..
The millennial Drones would all have their livelihood/passions/income revolve around social media, since that’s the modern equivalent of the no-good-lazy-spoiled-kids-who-won’t-get-a-proper-job-like-their-parents trope. Like, Gussie Fink-Nottle has an instagram, tumblr and facebook account for every single one of his newts, Tuppy Glossop’s a food blogger etc. Gentlemens’ clubs aren’t really a thing for the younger set, so their meeting place is a pub NAMED The Drones, where they socialise and loaf about, sharing selfies and memes and other no-good-lazy-millenial stuff.
Bertie would be big on Youtube and Vine, known for quirky music, comedy and anecdotes, sort of a mix of Phil Lester and Jon Cozart. He’d perform the ludicrous pop songs of today as well as musical theatre - not only Lin-Manuel Miranda and Disney tunes but WELL LEGIT Gershwin and Berlin and`Porter. His friends would all ask him to sing Rat Pack standards at their weddings which he gladly does pro bono.
Jeeves would have gotten himself a scholarship to Cambridge (reading law and philosophy) and wound up as a solicitor, since his calling is basically solving other peoples’ problems and disputes. He would earn himself a reputation as the best of the best and be sought after by peers of the realm and CEOs of large companies for Delicate Matters. Unlike Bertie, who takes to this era like a thingummy to water, Jeeves is still something of an anachronism: impeccable old-fashioned manners, formal speech for all occasions (he even calls the cashier at Pret-A-Manger ‘madam’), and never goes out in public without wearing a button-up shirt & necktie. He has typical Generation Xer stand-offish cynicism, deftly packaged in dapper-as-fuck tactfulness.
I can imagine Bertie, having just gotten over his breakup with Ginger (the cad left him for Magnolia), would meet Jeeves whilst house-sitting for one of the Drones in some fashionable Zone 1 / 2 neighborhood (say Chelsea or Fulham). Jeeves has the flat across the hall and Bertie runs into him while trying to take out the rubbish bins (and failing). Jeeves, of course, effortlessly sets everything to rights, and perceiving how clueless Bertie is in day-to-day maintenance of a household, comes over every day to assist him (and not because Bertie is the most adorable wide-eyed cherub of a twink he’s ever seen - perish the thought!)
As Bertie is a magnet for drama, the neighbours in the building and his fellow Drones inevitably fall upon him with all of their problems - some involving romance, but others involving compromising photos going viral, public gaffes where politically incorrect remarks are uttered, etc. Jeeves and Bertie schlep around modern-day London having light-hearted adventures solving all of these problems. Bertie regales his subscribers with the stories of these adventures, going on and on about how wonderful Jeeves is. In the general on-line community, comparisons are drawn between Bertie’s vlog and the blog belong to the boyfriend of that ‘Hat Detective’ on Baker St.
When the time comes for Bertie to leave the flat he was caretaking, he coyly asks Jeeves if he would take Bertie on as a client at his practice. Jeeves refuses, stating that his principles forbid him to date anyone he’s professionally involved with. It takes Bertie half a day to figure out that Jeeves has asked him out.
From there it’s fluff and music and roses and bickering. They get their flat together in Mayfair and Jeeves feels no reserve about scolding Bertie for leaving bath towels on the floor and dirty dishes in the sink. His sweet otherwordly Bertram is a slovenly man-child who he manages to train. Somewhat. Eventually a kitten is adopted because REG HE’S SO CUTE HE FOLLOWED ME HOME LOOK AT HIS LITTLE FACE CAN WE GO DOWN TO BATTERSEA AND GET HIM A PLAYMATE OH PLEEEEASE I’LL PROMISE TO CLEAN THE LITTER TRAY AND GIVE YOU HEAD WHENEVER YOU WANT IT
Also he once tried to convince Jeeves to come with him to the Brinkley Court Halloween Party dressed in drag as Elphaba and Glinda, but Jeeves “mixed up “ the order to the online costume shop, so they went in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff robes instead.
They spend rainy weekends playing the piano and cooking and exchanging bants and bargaining about fashion choices and having fantastic sex. To their friends they are ‘Bertie and Reg’ and they are like, omigod, the cutest couple eveerrrr, ikr
Aunt Dahlia is the P-Flag auntie, having been the first person that Bertie came out to. She has always hoped that her young blot will find a good man who can keep him in check (Jeeves is heaven sent to her), while Agatha is the homophbic aunt.
AGATHA: Bertie. You must marry and have children.
BERTIE: For the thousandth time, Aunt Agatha, I’m gay. As much as you wish otherwise, that Lord Arran fellow assured the Empire’s assent of my sexual orientation while you were still in knee socks and fawning over Cliff Richard.
AGATHA: It is a childish phase. It will pass once I find a woman of good breeding who can mould you.
BERTIE: Aunt Agatha–
AGATHA: Mould. You.
She lives in Belgravia and despises smartphones.
Thankfully the 21st Century edition of The Code of The Woosters impels Bertie to tell any prospective female that being affianced to him is inadvisable for multiple reasons.
Also Lady Florence is an SJW hipster and political lesbian who lives in Shoreditch with her girlfriend Honoria. She takes every opportunity to criticise Bertie for drinking sugary Starbucks lattes and wearing T shirts with licensed cartoon characters on them. Bertie often wonders why the hell he’s friends with her.
Bertie’s other queer friends are Bingo (the ultimate panromantic), Catsmeat (just your average theatre geek with a libido the size of Soho) and cousin Eustace (not so much a friend as a tagalong, always getting suspended for hitting on his professors). They sometimes go to G-A-Y, where they are consistently ignored by all the cool clubbers, opting to drink and watch drag shows and throw beer nuts at each other. Marion Wardour is Bertie’s gal pal and sometimes she comes along too, with the aim of hooking up with bi guys (and occasionally bi girls). Otherwise, she’s off singing in fringe musicals.
Spode is a member of UKIP and his wife Madeleine writes awful Winnie the Pooh fanfiction.
Perish Song is not a fatal move, but it induces paranoia and anxiety in anyone who hears it - both Pokémon and human alike. A person under the influence of Perish Song will display signs of severe unrest, biting their nails, pulling their hair, pacing, and often fervently proclaiming that they are going to die. Attempts to calm them down are ineffective. The fear only disappears after they have passed out from the effects of the move; when they wake up, the memory of their agitation seems ludicrous to them. Nevertheless, Perish Song is still an illegal move, and any trainer caught using it can be heavily fined.
The only legal use of Perish Song is among law enforcement. Rather than incapacitate criminals with tear gas or anything physically harmful, police will direct working pokémon to perform the move within the vicinity of the target, raising such crippling fear in them that they forget their motivations. Absol are most commonly used for this purpose, as they are stealthy and easy to train, but misdreavus are sometimes chosen to diffuse hostage situations, as they are smaller, harder to detect, and able to pass through walls. Perish Song is, however, only used in dire circumstances, when apprehension by other means is impossible. The distress it invokes can cause some criminals to act unpredictably.
gallivanting through this and that dimension I suppose although they do visit the kids from time to time
Bill: Whaaaaat? Me? Perish the thought.
(P.S. The guy above was, in fact, totally trying to hit on the Dip)
Dipper doesn’t like waking up early in the morning but Bill kind of does so whenever Dipper emerges from their bedroom Bill’s always there to greet him with a stack of pancakes/waffles and a hearty here come dat boi
(Bill knows about memes because he researched on them in order to blend into the college scene better and he totally became a huge memelord)
yes I can… so I picture Dipper as a badass heavyweight and Bill only got this out of him after, like, 6 shots of tequila. (also Eric as in Eric Cartman because why the fuck not lmao jk)
Bill: His ideal person is still frustratingly vague… I don’t understand it.
Concept: gay af metrosexual Dipper
LMAO I’M SO SORRY THESE HAVE BEEN IN MY INBOX FOR LIKE SO LONG I PROMISE I WILL WORK ON THE OTHERS FML
ALRIGHT KIDS, IT’S BEEN a while since we have gone deep and strong into our favorite source of folk with its lore, the people’s food for thought, the deepest days held by stories that taught us golden ways and made us laugh all the same: MYTHOLOGY.
And TODAY, you need to bring your hiking equipment, because we TAKE OFF TO THE MOUNTAINS: OUR TOPIC is ONI.
Now, when you say “oni”, most people think about Shuten-doji and Ibaraki-doji, the two most famous oni out there, with Shuten-doji being the gang leader of the oni that lived in Mount Ooe, and Ibaraki-doji being his deputy, and in some stories, his wife as well. Some more well learned ace detectives out there might also know of Kuma-doji, Torakuma-doji, Hoshikuma-doji, and Kanaguma-doji, the four top enforcers of Shuten-doji (outside of Ibaraki-doji him/herself). Supreme Superintendents of matters most mystical and mountainous marauders will even think about the bunch of oni in Onigashima, whose entire role in their story is to have their asses horrendously obliterated by Momotaro (a superturbochild) and his animal friends, which included a dog, a bird, and a monkey.
But today, we won’t be talking about any of those. Today, we have a SPECIAL GUEST from a rather obscure-in-the-West legend from the Heian Period.
If you have been consuming Japanese media for some years now, you may recognize this Suzuka:
Or this Suzuka:
Or maybe this Suzuka:
Well, thing IS, they are all based on the Suzuka we will be discussing today: Suzuka Gongen.
Also known as Suzuka Gouzen, this Dame Of Danger was an Imperial oni princess renowned for her beauty, her skill with weaponry, and her military tactics. Haughty and confident, Suzuka was beautiful, and she knew it: She often bragged about her good looks and was quite proud of it, like, haha, Yamato Nadeshiko WHO, THIS GIRL KNEW SHE WAS HOT SHIT and didn’t mind yelling that through an ancient Japanese megaphone. Suzuka Gongen was the Hot Instagram Friend, except she wouldn’t have gotten stranded in Fyre Festival because she would’ve just beat local wildlife with her SICK SWORD SKILLS. She was known for wearing a crimson skirt and is usually depicted, less flatteringly, as a prostitute, and more positively, as a dancer girl (in a dancing outfit). The point was less “SHE A THOT” and more “she’s kinda out there”. AND OUT THERE SHE WAS, CONSIDERING SHE COULD kill you in 600 different ways in an empty room, including using the room itself. GIRL WAS FUCKING DANGEROUS.
ANYWAYS, SO, Suzuka’s dad was doing imperial oni things, hanging out, drinking sake, when SUDDENLY he gets a visit from this very spooky individual named Akuro-Ou, who just so happened to be THE KING OF ALL ONI. “hey bro” Akuro-Ou bellowed with his mysterious voice, “so I see you have a pretty hot daughter”. Dadoni kinda knew where this was going, so he just replied “y-yeah” because he didn’t have the Guts to confront him. “lemme smash” ordered Akuro-Ou, and Dadoni replied with “ “ because exactly what do you reply in this situation. Kings and Oni are two kinds of people you really don’t wanna cross, so Akuro-Ou was the kind of guy you seriously didn’t wanna double cross (or, perish the thought, double-cross), so he kinda just decreed that, well, shit, ok, you can marry her, GEEZ.
So while this shit goes down, Suzuka was hanging out, being hot and cocky in the front yard, when SUDDENLY this dude comes and tells her “hey dude pack your shit, we are going to your marriage”, and Suzuka was like “EXCUSE ME?” and the dude was like “yeah see your dad decreed just now that you are marrying the King of Oni, Akuro-Ou, so yeah, hurry” and Suzuka was like “well fuck that blows, whatever, so can I see him” and he’s like “no” because Akuro-Ou was Very Mysterious and didn’t show his face. Since this is THE EARLY HEIAN ERA, they merely exchanged marriage vows, or made a contract, in this specific case, and that was that, woo, how ROMANTIC, married to a dude you don’t know who won’t even show you his FACE. This is, like, the LAME version of the Phantom of the Opera, without the weird theater people and the musical numbers. So Suzuka was pretty bummed about it, but she looked at the good side and said “YO BUT WE CAN PLOT THE DOWNFALL OF THE EMPEROR NOW” because she has an appetite for destruction and bedlam and Akuro-Ou at least had good ideas. Akuro-Ou and his two bestiest and lieutenants, Takemaru and Odakemaru, consulted a lot with Suzuka, since she was a badass strategist, and planned out this cool attack that was going to murderize the FUCK outta the Emperor and everything he stood for.
Now, this is the part where I remind you that ancient Japan had the best superspies in history, because EVERY TIME someone has an Ill Thought against the Emperor, he KNOWS (except that one time in Tokoyo), so the Emperor turns off Tony Hawk Pro Skater 2 for three seconds to worry for his life and summons a hero to go whoop some rowdy oni ass before going back to his Kickflips because Emperors tend to do NOTHING IN THESE THINGS AAAAA. So the hero is sent, with explicit instructions to chew bubblegum and kick ass, and to not bring gum or bubbles, and he was HAPPY TO COMPLY. Also, I love the Japanese mythos insistence on straight up pulling heroes, like, it’s literally “emperor somehow fucking knew he was going to get sniped so he just pulls a hero from his pantry and sends him on his way to fuck shit up” like did they mass produce them back then, was “hero” an acceptable major to have in Heian Japan, what kinda shithole society are we in that I have to major in boring shit like being good to people and helping them with their problems instead of KICKING ONI ASS, I am so ENVIOUS of mythos.
So the hero in question goes to where the oni are planning their revolution, and Suzuka, also endowed with superspies, somehow learns of this, and throws a TANTRUM because no shitass human is going to interfere in the one good thing to come out of her marriage, no sir. Now, this is the part where the bad guys would send out minions to deal with the hero. Well, Suzuka is not most bad guys, so she grabbed her three cursed swords, downed a whole can of Red Bull, yelled “BEAST MODE!” and fuckrammed her way out of Oni Fortress to meet this dude HEAD ON in HONORABLE COMBAT. She was going to deal with him HERSELF. At the foot of Suzuka Mountain (yes, that was the name of the mountain), the two would meet for a DUEL.
“AAAALRIGHT YOU LIMP-DICKED CHICKEN SHIT PISS STAIN, SHOW YOUR DAMN FACE, WHERE ARE YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT, I AM GOING TO FUCK YOU UP GOOD, MY DUDE, I WILL SHOVE YOU DOWN A FLIGHT OF STAIRS, I AM GOING TO SCRAPE YOUR KNEE, I AM GOING TO PLAY PING PONG WITH YOUR BALLS, I AM GOING TO WRITE BAD HAIKU ON YOUR FACE, COME AT ME” softly whispered Suzuka when she finally arrived at the field where the hero was. Upon hearing this, the hero removed his large straw hat that hid his face and the coat that obscured his frame, and revealed his BEAUTIFUL, HANDSOME FACE and DASHING MUSCLES. The hero’s name was Sakanoue no Tamuramaro, which translated directly to “HOT STUD 9000″, probably.
Suzuka’s immediate follow-up was “o”
because he was a fine piece of work, alright. “Yeah, look, um, change of plans: I betray Akuro-Ou and instead I marry you and we kick ass together”. “Surely you jest?” inquired the confused Tamuramaro. “Ahah, no, see, I jest about many things, but dick? No, I take dick seriously” she quickly replied, and that was good enough for T-Man, because they immediately fell in love with each other. I mean, look, you can’t blame her: If you get roped into a marriage you didn’t even know of with a dude whose face you don’t know, and then suddenly Handsome McNiceass appears before you, ripe for the eloping, you, too, would do it. And T-Man had no issues with this at all because Suzuka was basically if G.I. Joe was a beautiful woman, and you gotta be a FOOL not to marry a warrior oni princess. Long story short, they made the strongest Power Couple of the Heian Era and proceeded to HORRENDOUSLY FUCK AKURO-OU UP, like, god DAMN, they just showed up, gorgeous pair of WARRIORS, tearing shit up left and right like it was Dynasty Warriors, piledriving Takemaru and Odakemaru through the announcer’s table, Cross Bombing Akuro-Ou, they literally fuck up the WHOLE FORTRESS, just by themselves, like, no inch of it was unfucked by the end of it, it was the single best Wrestlemania in history and wrestling wasn’t even a thing yet. The oni revolution plan was SHATTERED TO PIECES, and only a POWERCOUPLE remained.
T-bro and Suzu then remained together, and Suzuka joined him in his heroics, becoming his partner in justice, which was the opposite of a problem for Tamuramaru, because what’s better than one killdozer? THAT IS RIGHT, TWO KILLDOZERS. Suzuka had three cursed blades, named Daitsuren, Shotsuren and Kenmyoren, as well as apparently being powered by the stars in the sky (literally, it is described that she “possesses supernatural powers from the stars’ movement”), and she utilized all of these things Pretty Damn Well to turn any evil doer into thin red paste stains on the carpet. I believe I have already made my point, but in case hyperbole betrays me: Suzuka Gongen was renowned, even back then, as one of the foremost and most important warrior-women in Japan mythos.
Knock knock Who is it? PATHOS
Suzuka Gongen died at the young age of 25. Suzuka and Tamuramaro had a cute half-human, half-oni daughter named Korin, but shortly after her birth, Suzuka’s tragically short life ended. Gently holding his beloved wife’s hand, Tamuramaro fondly remembered the happy times they spent with their child, the happy times they spent kicking villain ass, the happy times they spent within each other’s embrace, the warmth they shared, the soft caresses and the rowdy laughter. As her pulse vanished, her smile never wavered, and she departed this world a happy mother, a happy wife, a happy warrior, a happy woman.
And so, Tamuramaro and Korin continued on, an empty spot on the table, a futon too big for one family.
Isn’t life unfair sometimes?
Tamuramaro thought that. He thought that it was not her time. Not just yet. There were many asses left unkicked, many lips left uncurved, many happy moments left unlived.
He was not having this.
Not like this!
Not like this!!! It simply could not end like this!
AND SO HE NEVER GAVE UP! SAKANOUE NO TAMURAMARU DID NOT YIELD, AND HE WENT RIGHT INTO THE HEAVENLY LAND OF THE DEAD, THE REALM WHERE THE LIVING SHOULDN’T INTRUDE. HE FOUGHT TOOTH AND NAIL PAST WHATEVER ENFORCER DARED STAND IN HIS WAY, PASSED WHATEVER TEST OF MIGHT THEY THOUGHT COULD SLOW HIM DOWN, AND PERSEVERED, PERSEVERED, PERSEVERED! A STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS FLOWS INTO A RIVER OF TEARS AND INVIGORATES IT WITH SHEER AMBITION! TAMURAMARU SAW THE LINE THAT SHOULDN’T BE CROSSED AND DOUBLE CROSSED IT. YOU CANNOT TELL THIS MAN WHAT HE CAN AND CANNOT DO.
And at the very end, there she stood: Suzuka Gougen. Their eyes met, their hearts ignited, and their hands clasped. Together, Sakaenoue no Tamuramaru and Suzuka Gougen fought right out of the Otherworld.
Back in the world of the living, T-Man and Suzuka both formally married, and they lived a long, plentiful life together, raising their child and being EXTREMELY lovey-dovey for many years to come. And, of course, kicking a SHITLOAD OF ASS together, as human and oni, hero and princess, husband and wife.
Suzuka’s legend has other versions: In some, she’s a bandit that stole the annual tribute from the Imperial Vault. In others, she’s a celestial maiden, whimsical and eccentric. In all versions, however, a fact remains consistent: She meets Tamuramaro, they fall in love with each other, they decimate rumpus together, Suzuka dies at 25, and Tamuramaro travels to the Land Of The Dead to pull her out, after which they happily live together.
WHAT CAN I SAY… THEY SAY PERFECT COUPLE DON’T EXIST, BUT I KNOW AT LEAST ONE.
Concept: link and revali braiding each other's hair (is that hair in revali's braids?? Idk rito anatomy??). Revali acts like he has the Superior Braiding Method And Skills (again idk how w/ rito anatomy) but revali is still just secretly loving having his braided by link
Addition to the braiding ask: link comes back to rito village after some adventuring, clearly disheveled, but the braids are still nearly perfect, bc he cares so much about the work revali put into it. Of course revali has Something to say about the few stray hairs, but also recognizes how much link cares and feels Honored, even if he doesn’t show it
Revali hasn’t told Link yet, probably never will, but
braiding each other’s hair in Rito culture is considered sort of…intimate.
Like, the sort of thing only lovers do.
(Pure, unadulterated feel-good comfort stuff, because sometimes you just need it. Post-episode 94 but spoilers are minimal.)
Vex'ahlia sleeps like the dead, blissfully free of dreams or emotions until she feels familiar, clever hands working at her armor. She groans, reluctant to return to consciousness, but can’t deny the relief each time a piece of stiff, mud-caked leather is pulled from her aching skin.
So she lets Percy turn her, rolling from nearly face-down onto her side so he can reach the clasps down the front. He leans over her, bed creaking. His lips ghost across her temple and settle by her ear.
Guess you could say this is Mother’s Day-ish floof >w>
Arian was rocking lazily in the chair by the mantle when Cullen entered the main room of their home, quietly singing a tune that he’d heard more and more frequently as of late.
“It’s a Dalish lullaby,”she told him one night as they lay curled up in one another, his fingers drawing random shapes over the swell of her abdomen. “My mother used to sing it to me when I was little.”
“It’s beautiful,” Cullen replied, kissing her cheek. “Are you singing it for the baby?”
Arian laughed, offering a little shrug. “May as well get a head-start, right?” she said. “Maybe they’ll recognize it once they’re here.”
He was anticipating what the prospect of parenthood would bring, of that there wasn’t a doubt. Arian, however, had embraced the title of mother as soon as she had announced they were expecting. It made his heart full seeing how happy she became whenever the subject of their baby came up, the way her eyes would brighten and her cheeks would flush.
Tonight, she was focused on knitting, a skill she had picked up with the help of Mia and Rosalie. Though having only one arm made things difficult in the beginning, Arian didn’t falter. Instead, she embraced the challenge, figuring out a solution in the matter of days and going from there. Now, she would knit or sew every evening, arguing that she didn’t want Mia to feel like she had to make all of their baby’s clothes.
As Cullen approached her, he found that she was working on a pair of booties, a project she had taken up just the day before. Their mabari shot up from his spot near the fireplace the moment he heard Cullen’s footsteps, shoving his snout into the man’s hand and wagging his stub of a tail.
“Been glued to your side all day, and he still wants attention,” Arian snickered without looking up.
“I think he feels like he’s going to be replaced, with how much I dote on you,” Cullen replied, rubbing the mabari’s head. “Alright, boy. Give me a few minutes and we’ll play fetch outside for a while.” he told the dog, who yipped happily before plopping down in front of the fireplace once more.
Cullen knelt at Arian’s side then, examining the works in progress which rested on the curve of her belly.
“What do you think?” she asked him softly, holding up a completed bootie. The tiny article of clothing was lovely in every sense, as it evidenced just how much love and care had gone into its craft - but that’s not what caused Cullen’s chest to tighten.
“Are… will the baby really be that small?” he asked, his voice quiet. Arian let out a gentle laugh, her smile rosy and affectionate.
“Yes, my love. They really will,” she confirmed, setting her knitting aside so she could cup his cheek. “Does that frighten you?”
Cullen shook his head, then shrugged. “It doesn’t, but…”
“Cullen,” Arian said, coaxing him to look at her. “It’s okay if it frightens you. It frightens me, too. To bear something so little and precious, to protect it, you would be afraid.”
He appreciated that his wife had a means of explaining what he always could not. He was frightened, but he was also ecstatic. He didn’t know what being a father would bring, or how he would adjust to the title. What he did know, however, was that he would spend every waking moment ensuring their child was safe, happy, and loved beyond belief.
“I am afraid,” he admitted to her, turning his head to press his lips to her palm. “But with every passing day, it becomes overshadowed by the joy I feel. I…” he swallowed, looking into his wife’s eyes tenderly, “I cannot wait to meet them.”
Arian, touched by his words, smiled at him, her eyes squinting. “I can’t either,” she murmured, leaning over to kiss his brow. “I hope they have your eyes.”
“I hope they have your smile,” he countered, smirking at her. “That was one of the first things I noticed about you.”
“Really?” she inquired, tilting her head. “I’ll have to have Varric write that in his novel about us. ‘He became enamored by her infectious smile…’”
“You haven’t been encouraging him again, have you?” Cullen deadpanned, though his lips twitched upward.
Arian feigned offense, her eyes widening as her hand flew to her chest. “Perish the thought, good sir!” she exclaimed, then smiled. “In all seriousness, I think I like the idea of our story remaining ours.” She leaned over, nuzzling her forehead into his. “What do you think?”
Cullen sighed as the tiniest of smiles rose on his cheeks, his eyes closing as he basked in the forever-comforting presence of his lover and wife.
Emma was graduating college tomorrow. The black gown hung in her closet, shoved into the very back next to dresses that were no longer in style and shirts she no longer wore. If she couldn’t see it, Emma reasoned that maybe it wasn’t real. But it was. Tomorrow she would down that black cap and gown, cross the stage, and accept her diploma.
She’d stop being Emma Swan, College Student, and officially become Emma Swan, College Graduate. Cool, right?
Except not. Most people looked forward to college graduation. It represented four years of hard work, tears, and panic attacks – a sign that you were qualified to do something. But all Emma could do was envision it as the end.
After eighteen years of bouncing from group home to home, Storybrooke College and its stability had become a refuge for Emma. She had finally found somewhere she could call home, and a group of people she could call family – and it was all going away.
Sure, all her friends had promised to keep in touch. That’s what everyone did. And they would, at first, they’d all try very hard. But eventually, conversations will trickle away as they all live their separate lives. It wouldn’t be like undergrad where Ruby could barge into Emma and Mary Margaret’s apartment with a bottle of tequila. Tuesday movie nights with the gang would be a thing of the past.
potential da:o and da:i spoilers below. Read at your own risk.
Zevran: Are you feeling well, my friend?
Blackwall: I’m feeling just fine. Why d’you ask?
Zevran: Are you certain? Ah, well perhaps you are distracted by our dashing leader’s good looks, yes? I don’t blame you, they are quite good looking.
Blackwall: Are you going somewhere with this?
Zevran: Well you see my friend, when I traveled with my dear warden, s/he and Alistair were never surprised by the darkspawn. And yet, I noticed we had no warning about that last group of them
Blackwall: Right. Well. …I just thought they were further away than that. No point announcing it then.
Blackwall: So. You fought in the fifth blight?
Zevran: Ah, yes! It is quite a tale! Or, well, it will be after I decide how to tell it without including the days of trekking through icy fields of mud and frozen wastes, or the many varied ways my dear warden was distracted by finding stray pets….
Blackwall: You’re not serious.
Zevran: My friend, you have not traveled Ferelden if you have not solved at least ten personal disputes.
post - revelations
Zevran: And I thought I was the only murderer in our merry band!
Blackwall: Don’t, please. Not about this.
Zevran: I was only going to say, my friend, that it is not every day one gets a second chance. Do not waste it.
if Blackwall is in a Romance with the Inquisitor, and Zevran romanced the Warden
Zevran: I was only going to say, my friend, that it sounds familiar.
Blackwall: What are you on about?
Zevran: Oh, did you not hear? I met my dear warden because I was sent to assassinate her/him.
Blackwall: Well. That’s – heartening. Thank you.
Zevran: (laughs) I thought you might think so, my bearded friend!
Sera: uuuugh, elves.
Zevran: My dear woman, pardon me if I’m wrong but you too are an elf, are you not?
Sera: Yeah but I’m not all elfy like sir-fadey-bottom, all, ‘the veil is wibbly here’ and that shite.
Zevran: (laughs) I see! Well, I can think of ten differences between myself and our shiny friend without trying.
Sera: Whatever. Bet you can’t name one. You can’t!
Zevran: Hmmm, well. if nothing else, I have hair, my friend.
Zevran: I am beginning to feel rather like a bullseye. What has you staring my friend?
Sera: You’ve been in Denerim, right?
Zevran: Not in some time, why is it you ask?
Sera: When I was little there was this box, and this door and these people –
Zevran: Truly, a remarkable tale.
Sera: Shut it, you! But there was this box, and I took it and you were there!
Zevran: Between you and me, my friend, I still have no idea what you are talking about.
Sera: (over the top cackling)
Zevran: (laughs longer)
Zevran: (’evil’ laughing)
Sera: (’evil’ laughing)
Zevran: Ah, that’s my game!
Dorian: Did I hear right, Zevran? You were an Antivan Crow? I’ve heard of them. You don’t get many in the Imperium.
Zevran: Well, yes. Do not take this the wrong way my friend, but it is hard to assassinate someone when so many other people have already lined up to try.
Dorian: (laughs) None taken.
Zevran: Ugh, why this, and all the mud? Mud should not exist when it is this cold!
Dorian: And then there’s the ever-present stench of wet dog. Where does it come from I wonder?
Zevran: There isn’t even a dog, this time.
Dorian: Blasted southern winters.
Inquisitor: It’s spring.
if Varric is in the party
Varric: Maybe if either of you wore more clothes you wouldn’t be so cold.
Zevran: And hide these legs?
Dorian: Perish the thought.
Dorian: Those tattoos, Zevran. Do they mean anything?
Zevran: Oh, these? (laughs) There serve only to emphasize what is already there, my friend. I have more if you’d like to see them.
Dorian: Well, perhaps I would. You know where my tent is.
if Dorian is in a romance with the Inquisitor
Inquisitor: I’m right here you know.
Zevran: You can come too, my friend. The more the merrier!