sweltering sun

Gladiolus Amicitia x Reader

Here we go. Forgive me if there’s typos or anything, because I wrote this on my phone, it’s nearly 2am, and I’ve been fighting a headache for hours. Let me know if there’s anything I need to fix and I’ll whip out my laptop tomorrow to fix it up!

@chocobro-daydreams since you wanted to see this 😘

Your eyes were closed to the damp, dark night, and with each breath that brought the cool air into your lungs, you felt more and more at peace. The midsummer sun had lowered itself behind the tree line ages ago, leaving no sign of its previous appearance in the sky, and it brought with it a feeling of deliverance, so to speak.

All morning, Gladio had insisted, or rather pleaded with puppy eyes, upon exploring the expanse of wilderness surrounding the cabin, so all afternoon the two of you were left sweltering under the burning sun while mapping out the countless trails in the valley. You could still smell the sweat lingering on your burned skin. Your nose wrinkled at this. A shower sounded welcoming, but it seemed that wouldn’t happen anytime soon because either there was a blockage from not being used in quite a while or something with the whole set up was entirely broken.

Currently, Gladio labored away in the bathroom, tinkering with whatever tools he found in the cabinets to see if he could get the water running properly. He promised that he could at least do that for his princess, although he couldn’t promise that the water would be hot.

Opening your eyes, you sighed and let your fingers trail over the rough wood stairs you sat on. Being clean was nice, but not necessary at the moment. The two of you were both rather sweaty and disgusting from your adventures, so you might as well be disgusting together.

But, he insisted.

A smile crept onto your lips as you traced overtop the little patterns in the wood and gazed out at the fireflies that had emerged from the tree line. Gladio would honestly drop anything for you, and you adored that about him. His undying love and loyalty. But, damn it, you wished he would take some time for himself and join you out on the deck. The scenery was gorgeous, almost too much so for words to do it any justice. Beyond the stairs was a wide gravel path that curved its way through the forest and back to the main road miles away, and the Regalia sat parked off to the side. A small meadow of tall grasses and summer wild flowers populated the opposite side of the drive, and gradually sloped gently to the sandy bank of a slow-moving creek.

The creek.

Suddenly, that seemed like a much better option than listening to the occasional curses coming from within the cabin, though Gladio had been quiet for quite some time now. Smirking slightly, you admitted to yourself that practicality wasn’t the only reason bathing in the creek with Gladio was such an excellent idea.

It didn’t matter how long the two of you had been a couple; The thought of him stripped of his clothes beneath the night sky caused your cheeks to burn.

“God damn it,” You hissed to yourself, suddenly even more impatient that before. “Hurry up Gladio.”

Ten minutes passed, or maybe more? Your shoulder rested against the deck railing, and with each passing moment creeping further into the night, you grew weary of waiting. While the sun had vanished, the humidity in the air still left you feeling particularly sticky, and that can only be tolerable for so long before it expand dreadfully miserable.

Suddenly, a huge crash from within the cabin jolted you from your sluggishness, almost causing you to crack your head directly off of the wooden beam. It sounded as if dozens and dozens of metal tools had just clattered to the floor individually. Silence followed.

Then, “FUCK.” Gladio swore as another violent crash sounded, but this time caused directly by him chucking the tools back into a cabinet.

Immediately, you snorted and buried your face in your hands. Oh my god, Gladio. To hear him lose his composure over a freaking shower was hilarious. His footsteps grew louder, coming towards the door, and you tried to stifle your laughter before he opened it and made a scene for laughing at him, but you couldn’t hide the ridiculously guilty smile on your face. Honestly, you looked a bit like Prompto after he made an awful pun and was trying not to laugh at himself.

Wordlessly, Gladio sat down beside you, shirtless, barefooted, and covered in more sweat than during your hike earlier. You’d be drooling over him if not for the laughter you were trying to contain. When he continued to say nothing, you teased him, “Sounds like you were having fun.”

His dark eyes turned to you wistfully. “Amicitia’s are not meant to be plumbers. I would rather take on the Archaeon himself than do that again.”

You knew Gladio wasn’t as riled up over it as he seemed, but he was definitely disappointed that he couldn’t get it working for you. Playfully, you punched his thigh and drawled, “Oh, come on, a shower or the Archaeon? That’s a pretty bold claim, or that’s one tough fucking shower.”

Finally, his face broke into a grin. “It’s one helluva shower. Don’t know how long it’s been since someone used it,” Then, it softened to reveal his disappointment. “But it doesn’t look like we’ll be using it. Sorry, princess.”

Gently, you rested your palm on his leg and rubbed little circles with your thumb. “That’s alright, you did your best.” You paused, biting your lip as you turned to face him. One hand rested upon his tattooed shoulder while the other laid on his chest. “I have a better idea anyway.”

A smirk formed from your lips as Gladio raised an eyebrow inquisitively. His arms enveloped your waist, pulling you closer against his warm skin, but you quickly smacked his hands away. “Someone’s feisty,” The timbre of his voice lowered; he leaned closer, his lips barely brushing against your ear as he murmured, “Do I have to teach you how to behave?”

You almost whined in response. Almost. You fought to ignore the way your body so quickly began to ache for him, and instead trailed your fingertips down his chest. Down, down, with feathery touches across his abdomen. Gladio’s skin shivered beneath your touch. Your fingers danced along the waistband of his pants, daring to go closer, but not committing to it. Mimicking him, you grinned, “Do I have to teach you how to behave?”

His lips parted to reply, but he inhaled sharply at the feeling of your hand suddenly grabbing him through his pants.

In a flash, you wiggled out of his embrace and darted down the stairs, giggling mischievously at the star struck expression he wore. Gladio blinked. “What the hell??”

You stood, a smiling figure illuminated by the light seeping from the cabin windows, and curled your finger at him, “Come here, big boy.” You pulled your shirt from over your head, and before your hands had even moved to unbutton your shorts, Gladio had nearly sprung up from the stairs. He moved swiftly, discarding his pants faster than you could remove your own.

“Oh, you’re gonna get it now!” His arms swept beneath your legs, picking you off the ground and slinging you over his shoulder. He started for the water, and you began to squeal.

He was going to throw you in, the motherfucker.

You had wanted to go in the water, but not like this, oh HELL no. His feet touched the water and sloshed as he walked further out. You pounded your fists on his back to no avail. “No, no, no, no, GLADIO NO-”

“In you go!” He laughed loud and heartily as he dumped you over his shoulders, plunging deep beneath the cool water for only a few moments.

You wished you had breached the surface like one of those graceful models from those beach photo shoots, but frankly, you looked more like something vomited up from the bottom of the ocean. The water pasted your hair to your face, and it stuck in your mouth and in all the places it didn’t belong.

God damn, was Gladio having a good time cackling at you. His hand was over his stomach, head tilted back, laughing at your pitiful appearance just floating in the creek like some resident monster. “Listen, Gladdy? Get in here and fight me. It’s WAR now.” You threatened while trying to slick your hair back so you could see.

“I’ll come in, but I’m not fighting you.” He sauntered forward, deeper into the water where you hovered with a pouty expression. As soon as he was within reach, you splashed water up his entire front. Gladio extended his arms as an invitation, “Make love, not war?”

You could play this out all night. Dramatically, you flipped your messy hair back across your eyes, stuck out your leg and put your foot on his chest to stop his advances. “None shall pass unless a champion comes to slay the great-”

Halfway through your monologue, Gladio chuckled, “Nah.” In one fluid move, he grabbed your leg and tipped you over backwards beneath the water again.

He had a death wish.

When you emerged, Gladio’s arms immediately captured you and pulled you to his chest. “The legendary monster has been defeated.” Softly, his lips placed a kiss on top of your head.

Your plan didn’t go as planned. At all. “Fight me.”

He placed another kiss on your forehead when you looked up at him. “You’re ridiculous.” He joked, a wide smile tugging at his lips as you stuck your tongue out at him. “I love you.”

“You love me? That explains why you dumped me headfirst into the water.” You pursed your lips, challenging him.

Although, with the way his gaze softened, you could tell that he wouldn’t joke about his feelings for you. Those were serious. Gladio pressed his forehead to yours, eyes taking in every detail of how you looked from the curve of your jaw, to the shape of your lips, to the color of your eyes with the stars above reflected in them. “I do love you. More than anyone or anything I’ve ever known.”

Your heart faltered as it did every time he said those words. How could you have gotten so lucky? “I know you do,” You smiled softly and pressed your lips briefly against his. “I love you, too.”

He held you against him for seemingly forever, peppering kisses across your cheeks and neck, lingering there longer with his lips pressed against your pulse, and his hands might have begun to wander, but he made no move to abandon the water for the cabin or even just the shore. “Gladio,” you sighed and tugged at the edge of his the boxers he still wore. “Inside. Now.”

You felt his lips smirk against your skin. “The shower’s broken, but the bed isn’t…yet.”

“You’re terrible.”

That Kiss

Originally posted by hunterchesters

Pairing: husband!Dean x wife!Reader, Sam x Reader
Word count: 957

Part 7 of Welcome to the Family

It felt like you were choking as you gasped for air. Reaching in your pocket, you pulled out a lighter and panicked. You were in a coffin. Automatically, you screamed for help. Or, tried to. Pushing against the lid, dirt came down on you, taking what little air you had. You were forced to dig your way out, into the sunlight. Sunlight that you hadn’t seen in what seemed like forever.

Looking around you, every tree was lying on the ground. Not from anything man made, either. You picked a direction and started walking. There was one thing on your mind- find your boys. There was no telling what your death had done to Dean. Or Sam. There was no telling if Dean went back to his old habits, or worse.

You had no idea how long you walked in the sweltering sun, but eventually you found a gas station. You broke in when no one answered, finding water, and food- eating as you piled everything in a bag. You had checked your stomach, flashes of your last moments hitting you. There was no evidence that it ever happened. There was something new, however. An odd burn looking hand print on your shoulder.

A high pitched nose pierced your ears, making you feel like your head was exploding. The windows and glass shattered as you hit the floor. This was like nothing you had ever felt before. And, just as fast as it hit, it was over.

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Latte Art

PAIRING: Taekwoon x OFC


WARNINGS: The usual AU/sex/foul language/cheesy romance y’all know the drill at this point…


NOTES: Y’all know my usual excuses: life is cray, I work hard, blah blah blah…However this has been sitting in my drafts for a while nearly finished so I decided to buckle down and write the finishing touches on this today. Please note that I’m complete trash for even writing a coffeeshop AU in the first place like who even does this anymore…TRASH I TELL YOU!!!! I hope that those of you who can stomach my cheesy AF writing will enjoy. Big hugs to y’all xoxo


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For @inesathammar, thank you for always being there for me when I need you. 

The South Pole was hers, despite recent years calling her far away and even more recent months offering her a new land. And while that land, a land of fire and heat, was his- she had a way there. Many cursed its sweltering sun. She welcomed it. Many damned its political hitches. She lived for the adventure. She adapted and thrived and bewitched the heart of the man who ruled it.

And now he was here. Far away from his home, but still equally settled and safe. It was his second visit of his short twenty one years, and even with all he’d uncovered -all he’d destroyed- when he first came, he’d never noticed… As enraptured as she was by the red and the gold and him, she had a way here too.

A way that was invigorating and intoxicating, a way that mesmerized him like his dragon’s scales in the sunrise. 

As easily as she governed within his red walls, reigned over his volcanic lands… she ruled here. The land of ice. She was surrounded by her element, mirrored for her natural state of unsuspecting prowess and deceptive safety. She was this land, she was a part of it as it was a part of her, and she knew it like she’d lived a thousand years. 

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On a stale summer day no wind dares to stir the freshly cut grass. The sweltering sun ripples over asphalt and sears your feet pink. Popsicles melt and ants march through the sticky syrup they leave behind.
On a stale summer day you’re coated in a sheet of salty sweat that pools on your fresh bedsheets. Scraped knees fester and sting. Tired dogs search for refuge in the short shadows of silent trees.
On a stale summer day the phone doesn’t ring and nobody can stand to let the tv shout. Bees are the only creatures that don’t seem bothered by the heat. Nobody wants to hold hands. Kids gaze longingly at the cool blue water in the still pool their neighbors never use.

freeholds  asked:

m, fenris?

M - When it rains/snows/storms

Minrathous, Seheron, Kirkwall – all warm climates with a sweltering sun, and air that hisses and sighs with heat. This is what he knows, and vehemently prefers, when faced with the alternative.

In this case, the alternative is Ferelden, known for two things: an over-abundance of mud, and a population of dogs to outnumber its people. But as far as Fenris can see, the only abundance of anything is the white, unpleasantly cold substance that has kept his wife in high spirits for the better part of their journey south.

His youngest sits on his hip, a solid and warm weight where everything else is cold. “Da,” she says. Then, points. “O.”

“Snow,” he agrees, with a sigh. “Yes.”

“Ma,” she says then, and he follows the line of her gaze towards where Hawke is trying – and succeeding – in shoving snow down her brother’s trousers. For his part, Carver is doing a good job yelling loud enough to attract every highway bandit in a mile’s radius, but neither of them seem to find the noise at all excessive.

Another sigh. “Yes, that is your mother. And your uncle.”

A snowball flies across the path, hitting Hawke square in the back of the head, and she whirls to find her son falling over himself with laughter.

“And your brother,” Fenris adds, and feels, suddenly, like a stranger in his own family. Nearly two decades in Kirkwall has not managed to knock the Fereldan from either of their bones. Even his eldest – born in the Anderfels, perhaps, but raised in Kirkwall, is romping through the snow like he was born in it.

A small touch of cold against his nose, and he looks up towards the grey skies, and the snowflakes drifting down.

“No,” his daughter says simply, tucking her face against his scarf, the brush of her dark hair prompting him to press his cheek against it. Then, as though uttering it with enough insistence will convince the weather to change its ways (and considering her heritage, the thought is not implausible) – “No.”

“My sincerest sympathies,” he agrees, gaze following his wife as she hoists their son up by his armpits, to toss him into the nearest snowbank. “What say you we go back home to Kirkwall, you and I?”

“Wall,” she agrees solemnly, and despite the snow seeping into his boots, Fenris finds a smile.

From across the path, Hawke looks up, scarf tangled with her hair and cheeks flushed from the cold, and her grin ten years younger. She’s so much more than her place of origin, but the frozen earth has turned something soft within her; has made mellow a countenance that the city has spent years hardening. It might just be nostalgia, but he doesn’t begrudge her this sliver of happiness, even if he can’t find it in himself to understand it.

And, “You will grow to love it,” he says, even knowing she can’t yet grasp the meaning of the words. But she is his, and this he knows, as she will one day realize –

That the things which at first seem inconceivable (a mage, the mother of his children; freedom, when he’d forgotten such a thing existed), might one day make all the sense in the world.

there’s a dead weight
behind my eyes, and
it’s summer again.

here it is, sweltering.
night sound cicadas,
sun-hot swimming pools,
windows cracked to let out
the sick feeling that you’re
missing something.

sticky and sweaty and sweet.
ice cream dripping down wrists.
sand and sun and salt skin.

back when catching fireflies
was like holding stars, or
holding each other together.

fists fulls of grass,
the sun kissed my skin
as hot as she did.

shorts and mosquito bites,
crop tops and fingernails,
the little things we promised
to summer.
—  efb | nostalgia in a heat haze.
ache in three movements

When my mother sends me to Maghreb, I am a fistful of sweltered sun. A country called sunset. A country that exists in between, here and there, pushed and pulled together. I fumble over sounds I cannot make, my tongue clumsy, refusing. For three months, everything I want to say spills out of my hands. A palm half opened, skin half brown.  A language I cannot recall, a memory half lost between waves of English, the ocean pushing stones to silt. If you wrench a tooth from a mouth, is it still a tooth? If you burn a house and no one hears, what becomes of that space? Confession is inextricably linked to small, dark spaces. For three months, I  watched birth, then rebirth. For three months, I watched kittens cling to their mother’s fur in the dumpster outside.

it is warm but not sweltering,
and the sun has partially fallen
so it is bright
yet shadows lay in front of trees,
the creatures have gone to sleep
and all is at peace
and my mind speaks out loud
because at last there are
no interruptions

and I talk to you
because you remind me of this night,
of a summer’s evening
when everything is perfect
and peaceful
it is you–
the silence that hears my thoughts
and the shadows that inspire a different view
from the ones I always knew

—  Leigh, day 316

s/o to those middle class pakistani kids whose dreams are smothered even before they have a chance to breathe, whose childhoods are spent lusting after things their parents can’t afford to buy and whose college years are filled with endless worry about a better future. 

kids who are too busy taking classes under the creaking ceiling fans of government colleges during the day and tutoring neighborhood children in the evenings to ever enjoy a carefree day out with friends. 

kids who struggle under the weight of expectations and who can’t afford to be careless and ‘wild’ like their more privileged counterparts from the upper class. 

kids whose clothes are faded from countless washings and who have to ride on the top of buses under sweltering sun.

kids who have to put up with abusive parents. kids who have to hide their queer identity because their middle class families refuse to appreciate diversity. kids who dream of a better life in a place where they won’t have to hide their true selves.

your struggles are valid. you are brave and beautiful. you deserve love and appreciation and backing more than anyone else. 

stay strong. always. 🌺 

Dean/Cas as new neighbors AU; for tigerboydean for their indirect help in snapping me out of my great wall of china sized writer’s block.

It’s a hot Saturday afternoon when Castiel takes note of the large moving van across the street. It seems like his new neighbor is finally moving in, and it’s only polite that he go over and introduce himself.

Figuring his neighbor might be feeling thirsty having to move boxes and furniture under the sweltering sun, Castiel quickly mixes together a pitcher of ice cold lemonade.

He carries the pitcher across the street to the moving van. Coming around the van, Castiel finds himself momentarily stupefied as he catches sight of the most attractive man he’s ever laid his eyes on.

As the man reaches down for another box, he catches sight of Castiel and straightens up. “Hi! I’m Dean. You must be one of my new neighbors.” Dean smiles brightly at Castiel and it’s like staring into the sun.

Castiel gapes at the proffered hand for a second before he manages to pull himself together enough to take it. “Er…yes, I’m Castiel…Cas. I live across the street.” He desperately hopes that Dean thinks the redness of his face is due to the heat. “I..uh…made some lemonade because it’s hot, yeah.” Castiel would love nothing more than for a hole to appear and swallow him whole right about now.

Dean just flashes another one of those blinding smiles. “Great! I could use a break right now!” He takes the pitcher from Castiel. “How about you help me grab one of those boxes and bring it inside? I’ll grab us two mugs.”

Castiel grabs the first box he sees and follows Dean into the house, struggling to hold in the whimpers that want to escape him as he’s given a clear view to the wide expanse of Dean’s sweaty back, the muscled shoulders tapering down to his more slender waist in perfect proportions.

“Just dump it anywhere and come here to the kitchen,” Dean calls over his shoulder, disappearing through a doorway.

Castiel does as he’s told and joins Dean in the kitchen where the other man’s already managed to scrounge up two mugs and poured them both a generous amount of lemonade. Castiel sits down on the bar stool at the kitchen island next to Dean.

“Here you go.” Dean passes him a mug. “To new neighbors.”

“To new neighbors.”

They clink their mugs together and drink deeply. Castiel has to suppress another round of embarrassing noises threatening to leave his throat as Dean licks his lips afterward.

“This is great lemonade, Cas. It really hit the spot.”

“Ah…yes. Just trying to be a good neighbor,” Castiel replies. Not wanting things to collapse into awkward silence, he casts his mind around for another topic. “This is a big house for one person. You got a wife and kids coming to join you.” Oh god, did he just inadvertently ask Dean if he was single?

Dean doesn’t seem to mind though, letting out a chuckle. “Nope, it’s just me. No wife or kids or girlfriend…” A slight pause. “Or boyfriend for that matter.”

“Oh right.”

“I settled on this house because I just know my younger brother and his fiancée will want to visit a lot, as well as my parents and a lot of friends from back home.”

“That’s great.” Castiel wishes he had something more interesting to say. Instead, he occupies himself by tossing back the last of his lemonade. As he lowers his mug, he catches sight of Dean watching him intently. Does Dean think he’s the most boring person in the universe? Castiel doesn’t want to lose this friendship before it’s even started despite his inappropriate crush so he quickly blurts out, “Would you like to come over for beer and maybe watch the game on Friday? Since we neighbors and all.”

Dean continues to study Castiel for a moment. “Let me know if I’m reading all the signs wrong or if I’m being too forward here,” he says, leaning forward a little. “Can we skip the whole friends to lovers thing and go straight to the latter part? Because I’d rather not spend the better part of a couple of weeks dancing around one other when we’re clearly attracted to each other.”

Castiel’s mouth drops open as his brain struggles to process what Dean’s just said. “You think I’m attractive?” he finally says.

Dean grins at him. “Yeah, Cas. I do. In this adorable, dazed kind of way.” Dean gets off his stool and steps closer, reaching out to cup Castiel’s face. “So what do you say, Cas? Want to spend the rest of the afternoon making out on my newly unwrapped couch?”

“What about the rest of your boxes?” Castiel murmurs, his face now only a few inches away from Dean’s.

“It’s too hot to unload the rest of my stuff right now. We can finish up in the evening.”

“Okay then.”

Dean closes the distance between them and suddenly Castiel has soft lips touching his.

They really do spend most of the afternoon kissing and cuddling on Dean’s couch.

s6 predictions
  • lip, sitting on a sun lounge, LA sun sweltering high in the sky, palm trees surrounding him. a massive, billion dollar mansion before him, a POC woman in a skimpy bikini serves him a drink. he doesn’t say thank you. he sighs, life is tough, checks his grades via the internet as he now goes to school online. A+’s all around… checks his bank account, there has been an anonymous donation of 100k? cool. goes back to sleep. thinks that he might get his ass bleached. a random lost group of victoria’s secret models approach him, they ask if he will kindly deflower them all at once. lip is nothing if not a gentleman.
  • liam is dying (but he hasn’t said a word ofc), carl has been released from prison but no one picked him up? day 9373 without water and fiona contemplates whether wonderbread willy noticed her g-string when she bent over today… hm. she walks over liam’s withering body and goes to complain to vee about the 3983 mayo men who won’t pay enough attention to her– also, there’s a weird smell in the kitchen? oh well.
  • debbie has 10 children. she is homeless, sick and has dropped out of school at 15. but she’s a woman! [audience laughs]
  • carl has cured cancer in prison but frank manages to take the credit *gasp* that frank! he dicks down a hoard of gorgeous, brainless babes over piles and piles of money before losing it all. oopsie daisy, silly frank! meanwhile, carl is back on the streets and dealing… a needle accidentally slips into his arm! oh gosh, that screwed up kid’s a junkie now.
  • kevin and veronica no longer live across the street because it has turned into a frat house. surprise, they now live above the alibi! kevin continues to play the cracker do-gooder and vee is the angry parent bitching about how they haven’t eaten anything but rat droppings in 2 weeks. but her tits are out!
  • somewhere, in the distance, there is a vault locked up and there is ian…. it looks like an abandoned asylum. images flick between him in a straight jacket, to him in conniptions while having a gay orgie! cock fight! gosh, that mental patient really is crazy! after an aids scare the sex-crazed teen goes to therapy. surprise! his middle-aged therapist is the new love of his life! they’re expecting in june. 
  • mickey milkovich, faded. mandy milkovich, faded. svetlana milkovich, faded. yevgeny milkovich, faded. iggy milkovich, faded. terry milkovich, alive and well! he joined the KKK and is out slaying all those nasty homos
Dog days with Varric [closed with Daggy]

Varric ran along the beach, sand blowing into the air with each step. He had shorts and running shoes on, but nothing else. Sweat ran down his neck and body as the sweltering costal sun beat down on the jogging man.

Trailing behind him, by only mere inches, was his German short haired pointer, lovingly named Hulk. He playfully nipped at the tennis ball in Varric’s hand, barking occasionally until the man would throw it.


     █ ▌Pride swelters under sun, surrounding heart of silver, steel and cold.
               You are the forgotten child of an armada built on blood, offering your soul
               You are the epitome of excellence in a chrome shell, you are perfection.

Bring us to glory, goddess of the hunt, rain the blood of those who oppose you on the sand. Glory to your cause, glory to your people.

                 You are IRON. You are CHROMIUM. You are STEEL.

You don’t know me - Son lux || Hunger of the pine - Alt-j || I’d love to change the world - jetta || Weapons V - Son lux || RIP 2 my youth - The Neighbourhood || weapon for saturday - lolo || Iron - Woodkid || Infra red - Placebo || Hold me down - Halsey || Female robbery - The Neighbourhood

        ( A Captain Phasma playlist 90% inspired by my Phasma rp blog )

The gentle breeze that stirred her golden hair was a welcome reprieve from the heat. The long summer had been announced officially over at the arrival of the white raven, but King’s Landing was still enjoying the rays of the sweltering sun. Or at least they were trying to. With the aftermath of the recent battle still fresh in everyone’s minds — plus the news of the fever that was sweeping the city — the people were on the verge of hysteria. Not that her mother was seemingly phased. Not outwardly at least. She suspected it was the Queen Regent’s orders that had kept her and her siblings confined to the Red Keep the past few days  — after all Cersei’s protective nature was not lost on her only daughter — but that was as far as her mother’s concern swept. Myrcella wasn’t about to become another little bird in the royal coop however, and so in an act of defiance and recklessness, she’d shook off her guards and taken to the tunnels in order to escape the Keep for a few hours. The unsupervised roaming also gave her a chance to survey what was really happening outside, to the city — her city, and to put some truth to the hushed whispers that plagued the halls of her home.


Ascension Campaign, Ch. 3: The resurrection of Maleficent

A week or two after sending off the Liliana for Barcalteration, Steve posted this Sharpie Maleficent (left) that he had pre-made to bring to a GP. I’ve always found Maleficent to be a fascinating character and loved this alter, but I wasn’t attending that GP and was SURE someone would buy it. On a whim, I wrote him afterwards just in case it hadn’t already been claimed, and to my considerable surprise it had not. He was happy for me to claim it, and we agreed that he would ship it with my Barcalteration when the latter was ready.

Until then, he brought the Maleficent with him to other GPs as a show piece. But en route home from one of those in sweltering heat, the sun through the car window melted the plastic case onto the card—the infamous “Evil Day Star” incident of yore.

Feeling unnecessarily bad, Steve insisted on replacing it for me. But not just with another Sharpie alter—he upgraded it to an oil, and in doing so upgraded my Modern Tuesdays opponents’ jealousy levels to “extreme.”