Hey everyone, Happy Valentine’s Day! ໒( ♥ ◡ ♥ )७

This year instead of just sitting around waiting until February 15th to come because that’s when all the chocolate goes on sale. I decided to make a follower forever to show my appreciation for every single one of you! I also hit a follower milestone recently so that was exciting considering I made this blog in October, so yeah! 

Bold: super cute mutuals/friends who I adore

A - G

| @a-sakuras | @a-ogiri@ahochin@ahristotles@akeiji | @akisaeo | @akuichansera |@aone | @aoshimaa | @asaiis | @ayumiko@ayyatos | @bokenma | @bokuto | @daiizume | @draagneels | @edwarddelrics  | @escarletes | @floppyamon | @fujiiwara@fulllbusters@futakuuchi  | @fuyus | @garekiz | @genoza | @gouhs | @gurensex |

H - L

| @hajihime  | @halcaeyon | @hazuokis | @heenata | @hharukas@hiramaruu | @hiraqi | @jetzui | @jungkook-01@jyuushimatsu | @kadrena | @kaeveeoh | @kahimes@kanaez | @kanekx@kagamitagia | @kayuui |  @kazune@kazzuma | @kenmai | @kiingjaeger@killvua | @kirei-na-jinsei |  @kirisakicarnival | @kisummi@kiyoharus@kiuroo | @kiryuuiins@kkenma @kkenmah  | @kkvroo | @koumorri | @kozumais | @kryoutas@kurooa | @kurummi | @lametooru@levhaibah | @littlebratciel |

M - P

| @mackervel | @mahjabn | @mazusu | @midorei | @micaelis | @midforde@midorimashintaru | @mikkaelas | @mikotoray@milcs@misakhi | @misakihanas@mitsukamis |@miuroko | @mizuyaks | @morimachi-riku@muukamii | @nanzse | @nichigou | @nnightray |@nnishikih | @odoh@oniisann | @psychohelmet |

Q - Z

| @rakuzaun | @ranmarv | @reishikiz @rinsuokah@ryuzakki | @saikata@sandtobio | @saruhiko | @sawtsuki | @seihanndas | @seiirins@sexuoh@shaikyuu | @shinoaz | @shokugekis | @shouty-y@shuuzous@sugaen | @suzuya-s@tepess | @terushimaas | @tobiios | @tobiohchan@tobioskageyama | @tooru | @tovru | @tsukiayma | @tsukiyma@vakatoshi | @worldofglass@yamakuchi | @yatotrash | @yukandas 



i love you too.

deaddaygal asked:

Prompt: Life for the inquisitor after trespasser. She now lives on her own in the hinterlands, laying low on a really small farm. Solas likes to keep an eye on her every once and a while and sneaks small gestures.

mending with small stitches

She disbands the Inquisition, and they all go their separate ways, making promises to keep in touch, and that they’ll meet again before long. And Ellana smiles and takes their promises; tucks them away in the too-hollow space where her still-healing heart beats, stubbornly, because she’s never been good at giving things up.

She stays at Skyhold for a while, watching the others slowly disperse. She hears nothing from Solas, but she has people looking – rooting out word from secret ranks, to bring her when the sun goes down, and she reads them over a low-burning candle, wondering idly what the point is, too keep fighting like this. She feels restless here, within the old stone; desperately out of place, and jumping at shadows like an old woman. She needs more permanence than this, a life that revolves around more than waiting for the sky to fall down, and so she takes her one arm and her healing heart and settles – makes her home at the foot of the mountains still holding back the sky. Perhaps she’s keeping watch; perhaps she’s just biding her time, but it’s more a life than she’s had in months, and she’s at the point where she’ll take whatever small slivers of happiness she can find.

The cottage is small – two rooms, a thatched roof, and thick ceiling beams she wraps with drying herbs. She has her mare, a goat that wanders where it wants, and an armful of chickens. And she spends her mornings walking, visiting the nearby village. She offers help where helps is needed, and when the suns sinks below the snow-capped mountains she retires, reads her letters before the fire and teaches herself how to breathe again. It’s a life of routine, of phantom pains and dreams that leave her drenched in sweat, and her legs aching from running, chasing. It’s her signature penned on countless letters, reminding her she still has a voice in the world, although there’s no one left to hear it. It’s a life that suits her, this solitude and her quiet, secluded cottage – or at least, it suits the person she is now.

But she’s lived there less than a month when she notices the first sign that she’s not as alone as she’d thought.

Keep reading

Appetites, Part 1

It’s twilight when they step outside together, and Abbie halts, arrested, her grip on Crane’s arm tightening.

“What’s wrong?” He draws even closer. She feels his breath in her hair, his warmth at her side. Solid. Alive. Real.

The sky is a deep, purpley blue, Venus low and bright on the horizon. Her eyes sting at the beauty of gathering darkness. “I thought I’d never see the night again.”

And then he’s standing behind her, his arms around her waist, his chin resting atop her head. “Abbie,” he breathes.

Entrancing as the world is, it’s too much after her long isolation. The ordinary noise and bustle of Sleepy Hollow on an ordinary weekday evening strikes her ears as loud like the front row at a concert, bright and crowded like Times Square. She startles at the honk of a car horn a street or two away, and Crane’s embrace tightens.

His touch is right. His touch is necessary. And she’ll never forget her joy at stepping out of that lake and seeing that contrail in the sky, knowing she was back and not alone anymore. But she isn’t quite ready for anyone in the range between Crane’s hands on her and a plane full of strangers an oblivious 30,000 feet above her head.

And in the midst of it all, she finds herself struggling to recognize a sensation that ought to be familiar, only she hasn’t felt it in almost a year.

“Crane,” she says with dawning realization and joy. She tugs just free enough to walk, but doesn’t break contact, grabbing his hand and threading her fingers through his. “I’m thirsty.”