#event05

It's time to celebrate women, and with that we would like to introduce our fifth event ㅡ WOMEN

This event will focus on women! Create anything related to women in dramas, be it your favorite female character, favorite dynamic between female characters, even your favorite actress.

TO PARTICIPATE

ㅡ must be a member of our network AND our discord server ㅡ you can become a member HERE ㅡ if you’re already a member but not part of our discord server, click here to join ㅡ reblog this post ㅡ caption your post with “@asiandramanet event 05 ㅡ women” and tag #asiandramanet

@userdramas event 05: women 

“A girl should be two things: who and what she wants.”

Favourite characters in kdramas : The Fiery Priest - Park Kyung Sun Happiness - Yoon Sae Bom Rookie Historian - Goo Hae Ryung

USERDRAMAS EVENT 05: WOMEN

for march, our event will be centered around women! whether it's your favorite female character(s), your favorite female relationships (platonic, familial, love), or your favorite content directed/written by women, make any type of visual content (gifs, edits, fmvs, fanart, etc.) featuring women in asian media. this event will run from march 1st to march 28th.

TO PARTICIPATE: ✿ join our network ✿ reblog this post ✿ make visual content featuring this month’s prompt ✿ caption your post as follows: @userdramas event 05: women [optional: insert quote/description/caption]

hoii everyone! welcome to paletmblr’s fifth event. after taking a poll, the november event theme was decided to be surrounding quotes. your creations can be based on quotes from film, tv, books, music etc. this event will run through entirety of november. the only requirement is your creations should be pale and should not be whitewashed!! hope you participate!

to participate:

⁍ reblog this post !!

⁍ make one original creation !!

⁍ include us in your caption !!

      eg: “ @paletmblr event v: [ description ] ”

⁍ tag your creations with #paletmblr05 !!

if you have any questions for the event, feel free to send us an ask! we are excited to see all your lovely creations!

Griffith tells himself he is being excessive, counting the days he hasn’t seen them in the library, hunched over a thick tome, a stack of several unopened ones right at their elbow. They liked to sit at over at the far back, near the window that faced the open courtyard, where the sunlight spilled over onto the wooden tables, outlining the words and drawings carved into the grain by the hundreds of students before them. 

He recalls the first time he’d met them, heading over to that quiet corner when the rest of the library was occupied. They had grey shadows underneath their eyes, the beginning of a stubble on their cheeks as Griffith lightly tapped them on the shoulder, to ask permission to share a table. They startled badly, like a bird pushed into abrupt flight, and Griffith caught sight of the book they were reading. A treatise on the Fae and the role they played in ancient Irish culture. 

From then on, on Wednesday and Friday afternoons, Griffith would find himself gravitating towards that table, their initial exchanges only consisting of ‘hi, may I sit here again?’ and ‘thank you, no problem’. He caught them glancing once in his direction, eyes bright with curiosity, before they flushed and hurriedly buried their nose back into their book. 

It took, like it did in most of Griffith’s friendships, him baking and offering a loaf of banana nut bread to break the ice. 

Cian, after that, warmed up to him surprisingly quickly (or at least, he thought they did). Griffith would call them friends, though many would think them mere acquaintances at best, for could they really build a stable relationship on a handful of days spent sitting quietly next to each other, only a smile, some sweets, and short but meaningful conversations exchanged between them? 

Evidently yes, for Griffith at least, as he found himself standing outside their door, tart and freshly-baked lemon squares in hand, squaring his shoulders before ringing the doorbell. 

It was a few precious days after Brín gave her her task, her mission and one of her first, immediate thoughts was of Canaan. She would not call him a friend, not really, though they were truly of like minds; unquenchable in their search for vengeance, unshakable in their hatred for the wretches of humankind. 

Maeve sent a missive by way of Padraig, fond of the old ways of communication; delicate ink-stained fingers, silvered nibs, and cream, heavy parchment.  She asked Canaan to meet at St. Stephens Green, a place of middles, of in-betweens, perfect in its seclusion and its neutrality. 

The sky bled in shades of rose and lavender as she took her seat on a soft knoll of grass, feet tucked daintily underneath her, her slight figure still, poised. A few paces away, just where the line of the woods met the open clearing, Padraig stood on constant guard, face placid and stoic. He was a Fae she’d trust with her life, and a rare burst of gratitude blooms in her chest. 

He had freshly ground coffee brewing on the pot, the scent and sizzle of oil as it hit the pan comforting. The smells and noise of a kitchen in use gives Griffith a sense of groundedness that he hasn’t felt in a long time. He recalls, just for a moment, the long talk he had with Zion a few nights before, hours whittling away until the dawn peaked through his parted blinds. He convinced Zion that he convinced him in turn, but in truth he already knew he had to see his plan in motion before he could commit himself wholeheartedly to his friend’s entire scheme (though commitment to the friend in question was already a done deal). 

He asked Zion who else he’d already looped into this, and the answers filled him with a sense of dread. He texted Oz the next day, more out of whimsy than anything else, because if he were being completely honest, he did not know what to say to the other man. It was more for his own need to care and to comfort; to build on budding camaraderie that would certainly help Griffith face the next few taxing days. 

He felt him as soon as he arrived at the door, his awareness kicking in like a sixth sense. Griffith paused to wonder, for a moment, about when it started responding not only to Fae but the humans whose lives were wretchedly entangled in their world. Perhaps it was a good thing, after all, so he could keep track of those he gratefully considered his friends.