#empathsies

Anonymous asked:

For Marie: Ludger, Val, Mairwen

Ashawen: lol heads up if you try to make a candle with food coloring, the food coloring will just sink to the bottom of the glass. and when the flame eventually reaches the bottom all the food coloring will catch fire and become one giant tall flame that you cannot possibly blow out and the glass will start to crack and then you'll throw your tea on it in a panic and then the extremely hot food coloring will boil and sizzle horribly and then the glass will shatter. Please take my word on this lmfao

Val: what did you do asha?

@empathsies​ asked:

aloe for marie

Botanical Headcanons

ALOE :   how does your muse handle grief ?

Compartmentalization is a key for her. If she can tuck it away to deal with at another time, then she will. Problems must be approached clinically and without emotion, when the world allows for it. A clear head to make decisions. 

       “You’ll have to excuse her.” Elspeth gestures to the Mabari currently making the rounds, sniffing everyone she gets close to. With a sharp call of her name, Lugh reluctantly bounds back over to sit at her mistress’s feet, stubby tail wagging against the stone floor. “She’s still learning.” 

Mairwen stared at him for a moment. Tired. Annoyed. Frustrated. She could keep coming up with various different terms to describe exactly how she felt about the fact that he was scolding her about morality, of all things, but there wasn’t much point to it. Especially because it was simply not what she was expecting. Here she thought she’d have to be on her best behaviour, among the Inquisition, with their ties to the Chantry and all. She’d done her best to be well behaved despite it all.

And there he was, probably being a terrible example, and she couldn’t help the cheshire smile that was creeping across her face. Absently, she twirled one of her daggers, letting it travel across her knuckles. 

@empathsies​  LUDGER  said  :     ‘ just…stay for the night . ‘    to  levi  !

they’ve  jumped  from  the  stage  of  cold  familiarity  to  a  distinct  warmth  levi  never  expected  to  feel  with  ludger  ,  &  yet  still  there’s  a  wall  between  them  .  no  matter  how  talented  ludger  is  at  slowly  taking  him  apart  ,  no  matter  how  much  he  missed  the  sound  of  his  voice  ,  there’s  still  that  nagging  fear  in  him  that  this  rekindled  connection  will  bring  him  back  to  ostwick  &  the  clutches  of  his  father  .  there’s  still  that  lingering  resentment  that  ludger  hadn’t  gone  with  him  when  he’d  left  ,  that  he’d  even  tried  to  convince  him  to  stay    ---    he  knows  he  can’t  blame  him  ,  not  really  ,  not  when  ludger  didn’t  know  a  damn  thing  about  the  things  he’d  been  subjected  to  ,  but  the  grudge  remains  nonetheless  ,  a  persistent  stain  in  the  back  of  his  mind  .

the  murmured  plea  against  his  shoulder  sends  shivers  down  his  spine  ,  goosebumps  racing  over  the  surface  of  his  skin  ,  eyes  fluttering  open  as  he  tenses  in  a  way  that  has  levi  sure  ludger  would  notice  .  he  grits  his  teeth  &  pushes  a  sigh  out  through  his  nose  .  he  shifts  so  he  can  sit  up  ,  &  casts  a  glance  at  ludger  in  the  low  light  of  the  room  ,  heart  thumping  quietly  in  his  chest  .  he  won’t  ignore  the  desire  to  do  so  ,  won’t  deny  that  he’s  thought  about  it    (  every  once  in  a  while  ,  he  allows  himself  some  good  things  ,  no  matter  how  small  )  .  

@empathsies

As treasure hunters, Adventure-seekers, and Keepers of the Past doth the duo find their feet sat upon the Path straight across from bred Nobility, verily, more oft than naught: thus stolen into secret wings and boudoirs inside the middle of the night, taken back sacred artifacts from greedy, gold-tipped hands!

But dost their luck find them ‘pon a cornered alley, and the clinking of hired guards art swift upon their heads. Roland frantics, hands flapping and white-faced, but, verily, his is the Poet. His is the romantic Story and the blood-drunk Heart of beatific clichés and such delectable midnight Queries, and thus: dost he grasp Illasan’s face, warm and firm but careful, and with a quick murmur of apology doth Roland press their mouths together, searing sweet and seal’d.

He mimics his Role for the body language of the Lover, artfully entwined like secret vines within this cramped compartment, and doth turn their connected faces ‘way from the window of clinking boots; fast and furious down an unassumed path, safely ‘way from them within the dark.

for our muses to kiss in order to hide their faces from somebody.