Noctis: “All right! How’s that? It’s a Mighty Barramundi! I can even catch one like this now.” Prompto: “Woah, nice.” Gladio: “That’s enough fishing already! The rest of us have jack to do.” Little text: “Give me a turn now and then.” Noctis: “Shaddap.”
Noctis: “So, how’s about we go for a hunt?” Prompto: “Eh, I’m kind of tired of fighting monsters, plus I’m out of potions.” Noctis: “Doing whatever you want, huh.” Ignis: “In that case…”
Rating: K/G/so, so harmless Characters/Pairings: Fenris/Hawke, Aveline/Donnic, Orana Word Count: 5000ish? Summary:
Hawke wins a baking contest and yet seems distraught. Fenris investigates.
Jade is bad at summaries without Quark to vet them, but alas, ‘tis the price of surprise gift fic.
happy you can survive practicalsyou survived
practicalsyou put in an offer on a house MOVING DAY!
here it is on your blog so you don’t even have to check your dash for it yay
your assignment: write an essay
explaining the significance of cake in fenhawke fic, since apparently it’s
become A Theme
Sweat crept down Fenris’s forehead, tangled in
his hair, seeped between his skin and the band of his trousers, as he raised
his blade above his head and held it, impossibly still, counting the seconds in
Tevene as he forced his arms not to tremble, his grip to stay firm.
Thirty. Forty. Fifty…fifty-five…
He brought the blade down with whistling speed, nearly slicing into the stone
pavers, but at the last possible moment he twisted his wrists and the blade
skimmed parallel to the floor, his body following the twist until one foot left
the ground and he pushed himself into the air, legs swinging around as the
blade came flying up again in an arc, his back arched until his feet hit the
ground again and he threw his weight forward, the tip of the sword this time
sparking against the floor as he dragged it for a moment—
all for show, of course; these moves in combat would get him killed, and he’d
learned them for Danarius’s pleasure, to titillate the ladies and frighten
their magister lords. He’d never particularly enjoyed them, even when he did
enjoy fulfilling his master’s every whim, and something distasteful still
lingered on his tongue, mixed with the sweat from his upper lip, whenever he
performed them. Used them; they were tools from his former life, and as
tools they were excellent for conditioning his physical form in times when he
otherwise had no outlet for his skills. A break, as it were, from more habitual
training drills, or from sparring with the Guard, forcing him into positions
and angles he’d normally never consider, stretching muscles that otherwise
might remain untested until a crucial moment in battle. And if he focused on
his breathing, he could ignore the memory of the drums to which his master had
demanded he dance.
Always one for theatrics, Danarius. In some ways it sweetened the dance, that
he now performed it only for the skeletons of the magister’s mercenaries that
littered his front hall. His hall, now. His tools. His choice.
Warnings: Explicit language, using the word “slut” as an insult, and people drawing a boy’s non-no parts on Evan’s cast.
She had only been there for 3 months and (Y/N) (Y/L/N) was already one of the most popular girls in the school.
No, she wasn’t a snob. However, most of the people she called her “friends” were.
She didn’t realize this until she watched three of them trip a girl in the cafeteria, laugh at her, and walk away while kicking bits of mac and cheese back at the poor girl. (Y/N) hesitantly helped the girl back up and handed her a napkin.
She was being watched by nearly anyone, and everyone who was anyone knew that to get to the top of the social pyramid she had to make a choice. Be popular and rude, or be nice and gradually sink down to the bottom of the chain.
“You don’t get anywhere by being nice.” Her friends, the Heathers, would remind her. But that’s how she was.
Smart, pretty, kind, and talented. That’s what everyone thought of her.
Everyone except for Jared Kleinman. Sure, he thought, she was pretty. But,
“Do you think she put the mac and cheese on the ground back in that girl’s food? Like to make her sick?” Jared asked the only person sitting with him, Evan Hansen.
“No, I think you’re over-thinking this, and she’s actually a nice person.” He responded, playing with his mac and cheese with his plastic spoon.
“Bullshit, Hansen.” Jared hissed, “No way in hell is there a person with so much power, that decides to be that nice.”
“She doesn’t have ‘power’, Jared. We’re literally in high school. This isn’t some kind of weird, student-lead, monarchy.” Evan protested. He thought that (Y/N) was nice.
“The only reason you’re on her side, is because she helped you write an essay last month. What grade did you get on that again?”
“An A-” Evan replied, still holding his head high like he was proud.
“Exactly my point! Why not an A+? Why couldn’t ‘little miss perfect’ get you a perfect 100? Because she maybe didn’t have the time to spend with people like you!” Jared was shouting at this point, and people at nearby tables were starting to notice him.
“What do you mean, ‘people like you’?” Evan asked, defensively. He began to stand up with his tray, slowly.
“God, Evan, you’re so dense.” He laughed to himself. “People that nobody notices.” That had done it. Jared’s offensive and slightly morbid humor had gone right over Evan’s head this time. Evan stood up and walked out of the lunch room.
In the hallway, (Y/N)’s friends were waiting on her to finish up in the bathroom. One of them saw Evan walk out of the lunchroom and approached him, taking notice to his cast.
“Mind if I sign?” She asked, pulling out a green sharpie.
“U-uh sur-e.” He stumbled over his words. She signed her name, and a drew a rather inappropriate picture underneath it. Right as she was walking away, Evan took a look at her “signature”.
He read what she wrote down aloud, “Heather Du- hey! Oh uh- ah okay…” Evan noticed her walking away, laughing with her friends. He felt powerless. Why couldn’t he just stand up for himself? He felt his eyes water and his nose felt tingly.
“Hey- um, Evan?” (Y/N) approached him cautiously. He looked up and she was slightly taken aback by his red eyes.
“Oh- hi.” He replied, looking down again.
“Is everything okay? What did they do?” Without looking up, Evan
showed her his cast. Heather’s name and the gross pictures that defaced it.
“Wh- I am so sorry. I have no
idea why they have to be such…” she paused to find the right word,” “shit-dicks
Evan laughed, “Why do you
even hang out with them?” (Y/N) took Evan’s hand and led him to her locker,
while thinking of a way to explain herself.
“I kind of feel like, well
like, I have to? Like it’s what everyone expects of me.” She opened her locker
with him standing there, “There’s just so much pressure on ‘popular people’ to
y’know, find who you belong with. And the Heathers decided that I belong with
them. I wish I had a choice.”
“Wow. That’s- deep…” Evan
cleared his throat, “I mean, you do have a choice. Unless they’re blackmailing
you or something.”
“Listen Evan, I’m going to
explain something a little personal to you.” She grabbed white-out from the top
shelf, “At my last school, nobody wanted anything to do with me. Everyone was
so judgmental, and when I heard from my parents that we were moving, I was
ecstatic. A chance to start over, and a chance to actually have friends for
once.” She began to apply the
white-out where Duke had drawn.
“So that’s why you’re so
nice? I- I mean like, you seem nice to everyone.” A girl was touching his arm.
“Yea. Because I know what it
feels like to be treated like I’m worthless.” She finished covering up the
signature and picture.
“C-can- um, will you- uh,
sign my cast?” He managed to say. She laughed and looked through her locker to
find a blue sharpie. She signed his cast and closed her locker.
“Ok, back to lunch with you,
mister.” She laughed.
“Bye, (Y/N)!” He walked away,
Little did either of them
know, Jared was right around the corner listening to her story.
“I’ll admit it, I didn’t
really think you were that good a person at first.” He said, walking out of his
“How much did you hear?”
She asked. She recognized him as Jared Kleinman, the boy who had repeatedly caught her eye in the hallways. He looked, if she were sugar-coating it, a little dorky. But like a cute kind of dorky.
“Enough to know that you used
to be a girl-version of Evan.” He laughed.
“You can’t tell anyone what
your just heard.” She said, a deathly seriousness in her tone.
“Why not? Because it’ll ruin
your reputation with the popular kids? You’re so weird.” He scoffed.
“Why do you care? Evan told
me that you have it out for me. I just want to know why.”
“Because you’re a poser. I
just don’t believe someone who is so popular could be so nice. You’re planning
something. What are you going to do? Blow up the school? Punch the principal’s dog in the face?” He took a step
forward with an eye-brow raised. Now he was less than a foot in front of her.
“I’m not a terrorist,
you di- jerk.” She hissed. To say she was intimidated was an understatement, but
she wasn’t going to let him know that. She leaned forward and propped herself
up onto her toes.
“You don’t scare me.” He
whispered to her. He was amused by how pathetic she looked, trying to look
“Well good, because you don’t scare
me either!” she said, looking at his whole face. She never noticed how he had
the charming-but-nerdy kind of look to him.
“Oh okay, sure. Prove it.”
“Is that a threat, or are you
making a move?” She asked, she was on the verge of laughing at him, but stood her
ground. She may or may not have felt extremely attracted to him in that moment,
and he may or may not have reciprocated those feelings.
Without thinking, she grabbed
him by his shoulders and brought his lips to hers. He was taken aback, but eventually kissed back with an equal amount of vigor.
Neither of them were holding
back, and both knew what they wanted. Their lips moved in nearly perfect sync,
but the tension and hatred from their argument was still there. It was
that hatred towards each other that was fueling the kiss.
His hands were at the small
of her back, and gradually moving south. He had her basically pinned to the
wall of lockers behind her. She gasped, and brought her hands up to the back of
his head, desperately trying to bring him closer, but at this point, that wasn’t
That’s when the bell rung.
The lunch period was over.
They both jerked away as fast
as they could, both with the same hostile expressions they had before their… ‘interaction’.
“That was disgusting.” She
“You’re disgusting.” He said
in reply. He walked away, but turned his head to shoot her a wink. Her body
heated up, and she turned back to her locker to grab her books for the next
period. Instead of her locker she was met with the scowling face of Heather
“Don’t think I didn’t see
that. Tomorrow, everyone is going to know how much of a slut you are for ‘computer-camp-Jared.’
You’ll be less than a nobody.” She growled.
Grabbing her books from her
locker and closing it, (Y/N) tapped Heather’s nose with a smile.
“Who’s going to believe you
over me? Being nice may not make me popular, but it makes people like me more than people like you.” And she walked away, leaving Heather dumbfounded. (Y/N) could still
feel Jared’s touch linger on her lips.
Quinn: She didn’t lose it. We did that to her. We did it. Saul: It’s been a rough week. I’m aware but we’re on to something. And if it leads to where I think, it will all have been worth it. Quinn: I don’t know, Saul.
I find her so present and so raw and so available in the moment. She is so alive that I want to be alive like her. I look at her. I listen to her. As much takes place in the silence as it does when we are speaking. –Mandy Patinkin
Brooklyn Nine-Nine, Jake/Amy, we were invited to a murder mystery party and I'm convinced you're the killer AU OR detectives in the 1920s solving a murder AU
“First of all,” Jake says, after he’s pulled Amy into the bathroom and shut the door behind them, and after he’s decided it’s okay to kiss her, because she’s great and wow, they can do that all the time now because they’re doing the dating thing, and it’s Amy, and okay, she’s looking at him funny now and words, he should be doing the words: “You look great. I know I said that already, but you do. That dress is great. You’re great.”
She smiles, and it’s the hair-tuck smile, and it makes his heart happy. “Thanks.”
“Yeah. Also, okay, I thought we promised we’d tell each other if we were the murderer?”
“What? I’m not the murderer! You are!”
“Sure, Detective Terrible Detective, tell me: if I’m the murderer, how come it’s been you at every scene of the crime, acting all suspicious? ‘Oh, Mr. Yates, tell me more about your dead wife! Let me put my hand on your arm and give you the sexy Bambi eyes!’’”
Amy scoffs. “You’ve also been at every scene, and tagging around with Boyle, and frankly I wouldn’t be surprised if the both of you weren’t accomplices!”
“Accomplices!” Jake takes a step back, hand pressed to his chest, and bumps into the door. “How dare you suggest such a thing?”
Of course, Boyle starts knocking on the door at this point because he has impeccable timing, and Amy shoots Jake a knowing look that he’s seen all too many times before; she sidles past him, slowly, totally unfairly, giving him those eyes, and when she opens the door and walks past Boyle, he’s still not entirely sure that she’s not the killer.
.x▬▬▬▬[» Of baby talk and other shenanigans «]▬▬▬▬ ×.
Luna knew she was in
for something the moment she entered the Jam&Roller.
It may be Gastón devilish smirk, Nina`s alarmed face or
Jim and Jam secretive looks; or even the way Ramiro was looking at her with
mocking concentration while popping popcorn in his mouth all the while Simon
was trying to conceal his amusement whereas Nico was cleaning the tables
looking like the most normal in the group, and Pedro, well he looked quiet but
Lunas was wary.
“Hey Luna!” Gaston called in a very, very chipper voice.