Tell me about their dreams, their aspirations, what they had for dinner last week Thursday. Tell me what their favourite colour is or why they skip in grocery markets or why they collect weird bottle caps. Tell me about their love life, their friends, their enemies. Tell me about their fears and their pasts- good, bad, and everything in between. Tell me about the smell that takes them back to their childhood and why they like contemporary jazz and why they cry tears of happiness every time Tangled plays. Tell me about their scars and their weakness and strengths and their forgiveness and their grudges. Tell me about the outfits they wear and what they do in their free time. Tell me about the places they’ve traveled to or the places they want to visit. Tell me what kinds of fish they like and what they think the stars are made of. Tell me about what they drink to give them energy or what they drink to put them asleep. Tell me what they like to do on the weekends. Tell me about the kind of toothpaste they use or why they have weak muscles on one side of their bodies. Tell me the kind of people they are attracted to and what their favourite book is and what they think about aquariums. Tell me about all of the time and effort you put into your muse to make them complex and dynamic and so so so real. Tell me everything. I want to know.
This is not the first time they’ve been alone in his kitchen, in his big and lonely house, with no words whispered between them.
Adrien can barely see, his eyes screwed tight as tears try to fall. The knife in his hand bites into the butcher block cutting board and he leaves it there stuck in the wood.
Turning around, he uses the back of his hand to wipe his eyes. Leaning against the counter, fingers grip the surface. “How could you?”
And Marinette has tears in her own eyes, he knows. He just can’t see because it stings too much to look. Her voice is small from where she stands, the width of his kitchen seeming miles long as they stand on opposite sides of the room.
“He seemed like such a nice guy at the time…” Marinette voice trails.
He bites his thumb, the pain in his eyes too much to handle. However, the distraction doesn’t stop the tears that finally spill over on his cheeks.
With a hoarse voice, he lets them fall and blearily looks at the woman on the other side of the room. For a breath, green eyes find blue despite all the tears.
But then, he exhales and the biggest smile breaks across his face as he wipes the tears away again. Laughing, he moves across the room and grabs her in a bear hug.
“I swear to god, Princess,” he breathes into her hair. “Next time we go to the farmer’s market, let’s skip the onion stall.”
And though her cheeks are still tear-stained, he can’t ignore how happy she looks when she peers up at him. “Of course, babe.”
I don’t believe Cullen’s proposing to Evie in Trespasser was as spur of the moment as we were led to believe. Where did that wedding dress come from on such short notice? Cullen had that dress neatly tucked away in his luggage. No one can convince me otherwise.
Now please excuse me while I go lay down somewhere to think about him carefully folding the dress, placing it in his bag then removing it a moment later. Then putting it back in and taking it out once more. Over and over again. All the while arguing with himself about whether or not it’s a good idea. Praying to the Maker he isn’t about to make a fool of himself. Hoping that maybe just once in his life something will go right. Dreaming of the day he can take his new wife home to Ferelden. When they can leave battles and politics behind to live a simple life and raise their children.
;___; I just want him to be happy, okay? He deserves all the joy after everything he’s been through.
don’t get me wrong, I like the Ezio games, I just wish Ubisoft wouldn’t treat him like he’s the only Assassin in the series =/
it’s like telling new, current gen players who don’t own an old console “you wanna start playing Assassin’s Creed? you know what? AC 1 is totally redundant, start with 2“ I know many ppl did this anyway but aaaaaah the first game is wonderful and underappreciated and it’s one thing to let the players decide if they wanna skip it but marketing it that way is kinda… sad? =/ meh I really wish they had decided for a Desmond Collection instead.
hope we get 1, 3, Liberation and Rogue re-released for the current consoles in the coming years as well…
2 x Boxes of Pizza Shapes 1 x Box of Cheddar Cheese Shapes 1 x Packet of Roasted Chicken Pringles 1 x Box of Cheezles 1 x Packet of Nacho Cheese Doritos 1 x Packet of Tic Tocs (seriously, biscuits in the shape of fucking clocks) 1 x Block of Salted Caramel Cadbury Chocolate 1 x Packet of PEANUT BUTTER FUCKING TIM TAMS 1 x Packet of M&M Cookies 5 x Packets of Pineapple lollies (they finally brought these back!!!) 1 x 2L bottle of Farmer Unions Iced Coffee (this shit is like liquid crack) 1 x Tub of Ice cream (bubble gum, fairy floss and banana lolly flavored) 4 x Cans of SUGAR FREE Redbull, cause well I’m trying to diet ya know.
For most of my American/Canadian friends you probably won’t know what half of these snacks are but they are all basically fucking awesome. I should one day do some kind of Aussie treat yo self giveaway pack when I’m not broke from treating myself.
root’s royalty. her parents are dead but she’s like the niece of the emperor twice removed or something and he doesn’t have any kids of his own
it’s greer and she hates him but she has access to a whole bunch of resources so she makes it work
he’s always trying to find her acceptable suitors and she’s Blatantly Not Interested and also always sneaking cute girls up to her room
they argue a lot. she never loses
she loves (LO V E S) ditching her security detail–an endless source of frustration for captain carter, who’s just trying to do her job and keep root safe–to slip into town
that’s how she meets sameen
on one of her trips into town she’s just meandering from stall to stall as usual. enjoying the freedom
and up ahead she sees a scuffle. dirt’s being kicked up, people are shouting and forming a ring around the fighters
root’s kind of party exactly
she pushes her way through the crowd and to the front of the ring to see two of greer’s guards having their asses handed to them by a girl who can’t be more than 5'2"
the crowd’s going nuts. this girl’s whaling on them. root’s turned on
she hears more shouting coming from behind her and glances over her shoulder to see half a dozen more guards headed their way
she slips into the ring–the girl is currently sitting on one guard’s chest and slamming his head against the ground repeatedly–grabs her by the shirt and pushes their way through the crowd
the little fighter is decidedly not happy to be rescued
“who the hell do you think–”
“unless you’re keen to see the inside of a jail cell you’re going to want to follow me”
the other girl glances over her shoulder to see the slew of guards trying to push through the crowd after them
she shakes herself free of root’s grip “you don’t have to hold my hand, i’m coming”
root rolls her eyes. they weave their way through the streets and the stalls and the crowds
they’re nearly trapped, eventually. guards coming up the street behind and in front of them
there’s a narrow alleyway to their left. a thin space between two shops just wide enough for them to squeeze into
root pulls her charge in after her
they end up VERY close. face to face, chest to chest, backs pressed up against the walls. they’re both breathing heavily
the guards run past them and they both let out sighs of relief
they stay put for a moment to catch their breath
“what do they call you?” root asks. the other girl narrows her eyes.
“you can call me root”
root rolls that around in her mouth. “shaw. a pleasure”
she’s cute, this one. big dark eyes, hair tousled from the fighting and fleeing. root’s into it
shaw only grunts and checks the street. it’s clear
they slip back onto the street
“what happened back there?” root asks. shaw shrugs
“greer’s full of shit and so are his people. guards were giving a kid a hard time so i stepped in”
“admirable. you’re a fighter. careful, with that. greer’s always looking for gladiators to force into the arena”
shaw’s head snaps up. “go back. what’d you say your name was?”
shaw scowls. “am i supposed to bow? kiss your hand? call you Your Majesty?”
“if you’d like to keep all your appendages i wouldn’t recommend it”
shaw smiles a little at that
they spend the rest of the day together. at the market, then skipping stones down at the pond. shaw knows a spot away from the masses. they dangle their feet in the water
this becomes a regular occurrence: root escaping into town and meeting shaw at the pond. sometimes they still browse the market. sometimes root steals a basket and food from the kitchens before she leaves and they make a picnic of it
root never brings shaw back to the palace. she won’t risk her. for the first time she has someone she doesn’t want to lose
eventually she slips up. one of greer’s men, zachary, follows her when she ditches her other tails. follows her right to the pond, to shaw, who she greets with a kiss
they find themselves surrounded in no time at all
they’re dragged back to the palace and separated. shaw tossed into a cell, root locked in her room which may as well be
greer visits root
walks into the room sighing and shaking his head. “my dear samantha–”
“i have nothing to say to you”
“she’s a fighter, this friend of yours. knocked out two of my men and bit lambert before the others could restrain her”
root glares at him coldly
“it’s a pity, you wasting your time on a street rat like that. i’ve brought so many promising young men before you…”
root only glares. greer sighs
“i’ve come to offer you a proposition, my dear. a chance to save your friend. you choose a husband from those i’ve set before you, and i will give your friend a chance to save her own life”
root feels ill. she’s going to kill greer, she decides then. whatever it takes, she’ll bide her time, and she’ll be the one to watch the light drain from his eyes
“fine.” she spits. she chooses some bland man from an obsolete country across the sea. he couldn’t meet her eyes, she remembers. he’ll be easy enough to manipulate
greer sets the date for shaw’s trial. a big Public Event. the trial of the woman who dared to endear herself to the emperor’s charge
greer tells root the setup. two doors, shaw’s choice. behind one, a husband. behind the other, a lion
she’ll be armed with only a dagger. her fate is her own choice
captain carter is sympathetic, at least. she despises greer as much as anyone. she sneaks root down to the dungeon to see shaw
they grasp hands through the bars as root explains the situation
“sameen, it’s all my fault, i put you in danger, if i hadnt–”
“hey. it was my choice too. i don’t regret it.” shaw squeezes her hand
root’s in tears
“i’ll find out which is which,” she promises. shaw nods
“give me the lion”
root looks to her in alarm. “absolutely not”
shaw snorts. “im not gonna spend my life shacked up to some guy /greer/ picked out for me. and i get a dagger, right? that’s a fighting chance”
“against a /lion/, sameen”
“the lion. promise me.”
root closes her eyes. nods as the tears start to fall. she cups shaw’s cheek through the bars
shaw hears the unspoken “i love you” in her voice
“i know. me too” she whispers
the day of the trial, carter finds out which door contains which fate. she reports to root. door 1, lion. door 2, husband
shaw steps into the arena, blinking against the harsh sunlight. the crowd goes wild
greer smiles smugly from his seat beside root
shaw turns to look at them, her hand shielding her eyes from the sun
root has a choice
honor shaw’s wish. let her take her chance with the lion. watch her be torn apart in front of an audience of thousands
or have her dragged off and married to someone else. lose her anyways. this is the last time she’ll see shaw either way, root knows this
Magic Prices: The link between the present and past
For people wondering why Magic cards are so insanely high now, you have to consider one of the biggest contributing factors.
The game is a consumable good.
While not on the same line as food or water, they do get used up and get set aside/discarded. Some cases, you just forget about them in a dresser until you move out of your dorm. You don’t always play with the same cards forever. So you end up just buying new cards and boosters over time. Because of that, you end up becoming a returning costumer. That’s what every business wants.
So going back to how this ties with Magic prices, players from the mid-late nineties didn’t really have much of an income to spend on Magic cards, let alone an online secondary market. The aspect of placing value on a piece of cardboard was there (An Alpha Black Lotus was worth $395.00 USD in August 1998), but nothing ranging into the thousands like today.
So when these players become grown adults with careers, married and have a much wider disposable income outside of a Taco Bell budget in college, they’re willing to buy the cards that they couldn’t before when they were playing. Even if it is something as ridiculous as $50 for Baneslayer Angels or $200 Goyfs.
This is unfortunate for newer players in the last 2-3 years. When I was playing Magic in the 90s, we didn’t have grown-ass men slamming down hundreds of dollars over the counter for a single card, much less a playset of fetchlands. That’s not the only thing the new generation of Magic players are facing either. The cost of going to a University or even a Community College has grown over 80% in the last decade, so it has become frustrating for newer players to enter the game with what money they have left over.
Another thing that greatly affects the card prices recently are these bandwagon speculators that shouldn’t even be speculating. Ever since Jace, the Mind Sculptor, no one wants to miss the boat on pre-sales or even 1-ofs in Pro Tour deck list (Teferi). Making money without working for it, other than just checking out on a virtual shopping cart. It’s just gotten out of control, especially when you look at cards like Bitter Blossom which went from $15-$30 to $100 over night. It’s almost impossible to trade with someone without double checking if a card went from $2 to $12 over night (Runed Halo).
The only thing I wish Wizards of the Coast would consider is finding a way to allow players to skip the secondary market and get the cards directly from them. Especially now with Modern completely flipping like crazy.
Wishful thinking and I know certain retailers would make excuses of players never coming into the brick and mortar store, but let me call them out on this. If a brick and mortar store wants me to come into their store for a $200 From the Vaults: Twenty, then they really need to give me a better incentive to drop by and pay for overpriced cardboard. Just like buying a new TV. I’m going to do like everyone else does and go to Best Buy, check out the model I want or think about and go home and buy it through Amazon.
I’m not going to place loyalty on a consumable good that’s EXACTLY the same at another store when I can buy it cheaper.
Maybe these brick and mortar stores need to try engaging with the community, hold in-store events that involves both parents and children or just more family/couples events in general. Don’t focus on the best, focus on what’s fun. People come to your store for the experience and to have fun, not to pay triple the suggested MSRP price for any product day one.
The Duel decks and Commander products are a great step to hedge certain sellers, but it’s becoming too slow for such a rapidly growing community of players. There’s such a diverse mix of new and old players that there just isn’t enough cards go around anymore, especially for people that just want to play the game.
Hi darling! I loved your mistletoe fic and saw you might be taking holiday prompts. If your inbox isn't overly full and you haven't received a variation on this theme yet, might I request some fluff with a Christmas tree? Cutting one themselves, decorating by the fire, arguing over what the tree topper should be or the color of the lights... Anything like that, I don't care about the details because a) Christmas b) your writing is always exquisite. Thank you! 💝🎅🏼
Let’s just say you aren’t the only one who made this request! I hope you enjoy what I’ve done with it. Also for @triad-anon with some of the themes we discussed and @whreflections with the details you wanted (and don’t worry, the more *ahem* explicit fic in this ‘verse is still on the way.)
It’s a still, peaceful sort of winter evening when they go out. Cold and cloudy with a hint of humidity. The snow is crisp and packed tight underfoot, and there will likely be more before morning, but the lack of wind makes it quite tolerable. They take Will’s SUV to dinner, Hannibal’s Mercedes relegated to the garage for the season, and drive down into the valley.
Until they arrive in town, Will has all but forgotten about Christmas. As absurd a notion as it may seem, without the ever present, over-commercialisation he’s grown accustomed to in America, it’s easy to forget. Here, in the heart of town, the decorations are tasteful and understated, simple white lights lining the eaves of the shops, wreaths on the doors, twinkling blue lights in the trees..
“It might be nice to have a tree,” he says. Hannibal hums in vague agreement, and that’s all the more Will thinks about it until the following morning.
Hannibal’s side of the bed is still warm when Will wakes, and he realises it was the sound of the car door that stirred him when he hears the engine come to life. It’s not yet light outside, which is enough of a confirmation for Will that it’s way too fucking early to consider getting up. Alice, their shih tzu terrier, stirs from the foot of the bed, lazily climbs up to occupy the space Hannibal has left, and they both fall back asleep.
When he wakes the second time, it’s to the sound of something being knocked to the floor, metal clanking, and Hannibal cursing in French. The only real downside to their cabin is the way noises carry from the den into the loft. Will grumbles and considers pulling the covers over his head. At least there’s sunlight streaming through the seams in the curtain. A glance at the clock tells him it’s half-past seven.
Will sits up and kicks off the covers and Alice’s ears perk up in interest. He shoves his feet in his slippers and tucks her under his arm as he stands. “Let’s go see what Daddy’s up to,” he mutters, plodding heavily down the steps. He stops at the landing, staring as Hannibal wrestles with a giant fir tree.
“What–?” Will just watches in confusion for a moment, before putting Alice down. He hurries to Hannibal’s side and helps support the weight of the tree as Hannibal slides it into the stand. While Alice scampers back and forth, snapping at the lowest hanging branches, Will holds the truck steady and Hannibal tightens the screws. They both take a few steps back to admire their work.
Will cranes his neck back to take it in its entirety. It has to be at least eleven feet tall; the very tip of the tree reaches the banister of the loft. They could leave the lights on at night and a warm glow would fill their room from below. He reaches out, brushing his hand across the needles–long, springy, and surprisingly soft.
“We never had a tree when I was a kid,” he says, and knows Hannibal probably already assumed as much. “Even with Molly, we had this artificial one. It came with pre-wired with fiber optic lights.” He shrugs, trying to dislodge the unwelcome lump in his throat. “I always thought it would be nice to have a real tree, but it seemed sort of wasteful, when we already had the fake one.”
There are many reasons Will is in love with Hannibal, chief among them how well they know one another. How he now allows Will his moment’s reverie without commentary. Instead, he steps up alongside Will, drawing the long needles across the palm of his hand.
“This particular fir is only found in a small area of Northwestern America. A local nursery grows them and makes a limited amount available for sale each year. The needles can vary in colour from vibrant blue green to pale powdery blue, and the aroma of the resin is among the strongest and most pleasant of the Pinaceae family.”
Hannibal illustrates the point, rolling the branch between his fingers and bringing his hand under Will’s nose. The scent is warm, smokey amber, with a hint of spice and cinnamon sweetness, and strong enough that it’s beginning to fill the cabin.
Alice, having finished her initial examination of the tree, weaves her way between their leg legs and comes to sit right between their feet, paw raised. Hannibal bends to pick her up. “I’ll see to Alice, you should get dressed.”
“Dressed?” Will echoes. It’s Saturday, and they have no plans, as far as he can recall.
Hannibal is already halfway out the door. “You’ll want to bundle up,” he calls over his shoulder. “The temperature dropped quite substantially overnight.”
summary: Finding a job is difficult. And interviews are nerve-wracking.
a/n: workplace-AU. Just a little idea I had slightly based off one of my interviews where I was much like Sakura in this story only I didn’t have a super, hot Sasuke. Yes, I was at a Walgreens.
“We’ll contact you as soon as we come to a decision,” the blonde lady said to her as she offered a hand for a handshake.
Sakura offered out her hand to her as the lady gave her a firm handshake. “R-right. Hope to hear from you soon.” She clutched her leather briefcase purse close to her as she gave a polite bow.
Without another word, she turned to leave the lobby and out the exit.
“Who was that?” a voice asked as he came up behind the blonde lady.
The blonde lady, with the nametag ‘Yamanaka Ino’, whirled around in surprise as she came face to face with the CEO of the company. “O-oh, that was one of the candidates for our intern positions. Haruno Sakura.”