#define meme

[marruth5]

Define Meme

“The word made steps toward the internet in a 1993 issue of Wired, defining ‘meme’ as an ‘infectious idea... much as viruses leap from body to body."

(found here https://www.thrillist.com/entertainment/nation/first-meme-ever) That’s it. Memes confirmed a disease. 

[howeveryclever]

Define 'family'

Put a “Define ______” in my ask to hear how they learned that concept. || NOT ACCEPTING

“Father’s not going to let you leave the Keep looking likethat,” he tells her, as blunt with his sister as their father is with them becausebetween siblings, at least, they do not need to hold their tongues. She rewardshis unwanted comment with a kick to the shins, which is only fair, butNathaniel gets to give her an “I-told-you-so” look when Father sends her backto her room.

It’s been three weeks since their mother died and Delilahwon’t let Adria brush her hair, the dark, wavy locks turning into a veritable rat’snest that sticks out from her head at odd angles. The tangles are so bad now thatit’s going to be hell to brush out, painful in ways that make Nathaniel want tocringe when he thinks about it. He doesn’t know why she let it get to thatpoint; but Delilah is seven-years-old and grieving in the only way she knowshow, and though Nathaniel doesn’t understand he doesn’t interfere. The looks hegives her, however, become less and less condescending the more she is repeatedlydenied passage on their family excursions.

Five weeks after their mother’s death she shows up in hisbedroom, face set in grim determination. She doesn’t say anything to him,merely shoves a hair brush in front of the book he’s reading and refuses to moveuntil he relents. The tangles are just as bad as he expected them to be, thehair so badly wound that he forgoes the brush entirely to card his fingersthrough it until it’s more manageable. Despite how much it must hurt Delilahdoesn’t make a sound, hands balled into fists at her side, unmoving until he’s finished.

They fall into a routine, Delilah showing up at his doorbefore they’re slated to head out of the Keep, brush in hand and expressiondaring him to comment on it. He says nothing, just accepts the hair brush andtames her wild locks, and in the months to come he learns to weave the strandstogether in a reasonably neat braid so it stays out of her face. In return, sheputs two braids in his hair, pulling back the strands that frequently obscured his vision.

Father, of course, raises an eyebrow at them the first timethey show up matching, but since he saysnothing directly about it Nathaniel takes his silence as acceptance. The smilehe shares with his sister is gentle, if only for an instant, before she sticksher tongue out at him and he rolls his eyes at her.

[howeveryclever]

DEFINE MY ASS

The definition of a word is always the story that creates the word for your character, so put a “Define ______” in my ask to hear how they learned that concept.

The sound of raised voices interrupts his conversation withFergus, both boys exchanging similar looks of confusion (though with a touchmore irritation on Nathaniel’s part) before they turn as one to peer over thebattlements. It’s not immediately clear what all the fuss is about. Down belowhe can make out the familiar shapes of the Cousland and Howe family soldiers juststarting their morning drills, the men and women milling about and exchanging pleasantriesthe same way he had been with Fergus. All around them, squires are setting upthe archery targets and bringing weapons and dragging the dirt level in thepractice field, and as far as Nathaniel can see nothing is amiss.

It’s not until Fergus gives a half-aggravated, half-amusedmoan of, “Oh for Andraste’s sake,” thatthe young Howe finally spots the reason for the ruckus. From out behind one ofthe great, old trees in the courtyard a familiar boy of no more than fifteen dartsout and takes off at a run, dodging between soldiers and squires alike at adead run. From somewhere behind him the shouts go up again and a group of whatthe archer can only assume are the boy’s personal guards come sprinting out ofthe woodwork after him. Nathaniel squints and leans a little further over theedge of the battlements before Fergus can grab him back, tracking the movementsof the runner with a growing frown.  

“Is that—“

“Maker, Howe, don’t stare.”

He’s not, really, but it’s difficult not to watch theprogress of one Xander Cousland as he streaks across the training field. Inamongst the glinting armour and weaponry his lack of any clothing whatsoevermakes him stick out like a sore thumb, and from their position on thebattlements Nathaniel and Fergus have inadvertently picked a front row seat tothe boy’s antics. It’s because of where they are that, when Xander turns tohead down the steps and into the nearest building, the archer inadvertently getsa better look at his bare ass than he’s ever cared to before. It’s…. well, let’sjust say it’s a lot nicer than he’d have expected from little, chubby, XanderCousland.

Nathaniel gives the training yard one finally look beforestepping back from the battlement edge, nudging Fergus with his foot as hestrides past him. “Do you need a handicap?” he calls over his shoulder andFergus’ indignant “Sod off!” is incredibly satisfying.

[orxna]

define home

“Define ______” Meme

        Home had never been a place, per se. Home was, as she was taught, where her Master resided. However, that wasn’t truly right, Home was where Papa was until he wasn’t--that is when the concept of home, something always so shaky and dependent begins to shift.

        Home is a warm fire that she does not need to tend to, a fire that Bodahn shoos her off from when she attempts to. Home is where she sits with Sandal and knits him all manner of sweaters, hats, and mittens because he loves to hold her yarn and smooth his fingers over the soft fibers. Home is Hawke snoozing in the front room as she lays a blanket atop them, tutting that they’ll wake with a crick but not quite willing to wake someone who, for once, looks so peaceful.

        Her home was lost once, but she’s found it again--Or rather, it found her, and she is content to remain there.

[dirthara-an]

Define forgiveness

There’s little a concept that got practised more seldom in Elvhenan than the concept of “forgiveness”. A slave that makes a mistakes had to expect appropriate punishment. A noble that got insulted was expected to seek revenge or compensation for the slander. And if you have done anything to upset your god in any way, all you could do was cower on the ground and hope they had better things to do, than deal with your impertinence.Dirthamen had always been more familiar with the difference between revenge and vengeance, than with the concept of forgiveness. Although he was counted among the more just ones of the pantheon, his ways of revenge was feared among elves of all classes.It wasn't until his brother Falon'Din fell to the temptations of vanity, that Dirthamen first had to consciously decide whether or not he would forgive. Unused to the sentiment, he had chosen a middle way, as he did quite often in case of doubt. He did not address the way, Falon'Din had broken his heart again, but when Fen'Harel had decided to rid the world of vain gods like his twin, he had secretly sided with his younger brother. A decision which in hindsight might have been motivated more by emotion, than by calculation.Ages passed and Dirthamen spend a lot of time in solitude, confined in the prison Fen'Harel had created for him. And all this time he was haunted by his own guilt.It was my fault, that Falon'Din fell. I should have paid more attention to his change. I should have spoken up sooner. I should have prevented the war. I shouldn't have turned a blind eye on Fen'Harel's intentions. I failed them all.When he finally broke free and returned to the world, he had been worn down by his emotions. Tired and lost, he had roamed the world aimlessly, until he was presented with a new chance.The boy's cautious hostility stood in stark contrast to his open eyes. He too had felt, as if he had failed a brother of his soul. But unlike Dirthamen he dealt with the guilt, as if it was an enemy to be defeated. Anything unpleasant was treated that way. If he could, he would have surely stabbed his guilt to death.What would you do, if it happened again?The question that had haunted Dirthamen for ages, came so easy to the boy's lips and much to the god's surprise, his reply came just as fast.I will not repeat my past mistakes.It was a first step and it wouldn't be the last.He was crazy. It was his own fault.The brutal honesty of Taeven's words were like a gush of icy water and for once Dirthamen was presented with a different view on things.Falon'Din had chosen his path. And he had made the choice without me.In the end, it was a mortal, that was struggling enough with his own burden of guilt, that taught the Keeper of Secrets how to forgive himself.

[happymanners]

Send “define” + a word and Bingley will say his definition of it.

[nowpayattention007-archive]

Define love.

Put A “Define ______” In My Ask To Hear How They Learned That Concept.

"Wait!" he called as he ran after the flighty balloon. The string had slipped through his grip and he was determinedly chasing it down the street and leaping up to try and catch it but it did no good. The red balloon just flew higher into the air and he could feel himself tearing up as he sobbed quietly. Feeling a hand on his shoulder, he turned around with a pathetic sniffle before he found the string of another balloon stuffed into his hand by his sister and her telling him not to cry. It wasn't red but blue. He found that he liked it even more and so beamed as his tears quickly dried. "I love you, Isabella!" he chirped happily and grabbed her free hand with his to swing it back and forth as their balloons jostled for position above their heads. 

[nowpayattention007-archive]

Define fear.

Put A “Define ______” In My Ask To Hear How They Learned That Concept.

Heart thudding wildly, he clutched at his stuffed penguin with wide eyes but he couldn't see anything. There was the bed underneath where he was sitting and he thought he could hear the rain outside. But he couldn't see a thing. Eyes rapidly filling with tears, he screamed in terror and heard the muffled thud from a room nearby and voices calling his name. "Papa!" he cried as he turned his head towards the sound but continued to see nothing. "Où est ton papa?" The door to his bedroom opened and his parents appeared with a torch held by his mother before he was scooped into their arms. It was only a power outage. The light wasn't gone and neither was he all alone.