#Fake Banter

[herearedragons]

Tekēhu: Watcher, that... thing you said yesterday. You were joking, were you not?

Selene: What do you mean?

Tekēhu: I mean what you told Edér.

Selene: ...You have got to be more specific than that.

Tekēhu: Well, if I recall correctly, during our evening downtime you called him "the handsomest man in the world".

Serafen (if present): [bursts out laughing. He laughs so hard that it sends him into a coughing fit, and he still can't stop.]

Edér (if present): ...It kinda worries me that you remember that.

Selene: Well, he is handsome.

Tekēhu: Yes, of course, but... the most? Ngati's chosen is standing right next to you, I say!

Edér (if present): I'm also standing right next to you. Just saying.

Selene: [stifles a laugh]

Selene: Tekēhu... Let's just say it's a matter of preference, alright?

Tekēhu: Ekera, love must have clouded your judgement. I will accept my second place, unjust as it may be.

Serafen (if present): [still laughing]

Aloth (if present): [flatly] ...I think we lost Serafen.

[wednesdayche]

Shadowheart: where's gale?

Astarion: to get his beauty sleep, I guess.

Shadowheart: and why are you still here? You've been complaining how exhausted you are.

Astarion: Me? I'm already beautiful. so ​​​

[high-dragon-bait]

Can you do Anders/Sera if you're still taking requests?

Interesting combo! Never thought of how these two would interact before. I just kinda put them in a blank room and rotated them in my mind until they started talking.

This is my first banter in a long time and I'm not very proud of it, but something has to break the ice. Hope you enjoy!

_____

Anders: Do any of your "Jennys" help mages?

Sera: Some do, I guess. Not my place to be asking everyone everywhere how they run their everything.

Anders: Do you?

Sera: Wha- no! Sparkle magic fire business not any of my business.

Anders: But you talk all about helping the "little people." People no one else wants to help. Who nobility would rather ignore. Who fits that better than a mage?

Sera: No, no you're full of it. You can't think a mage is "little people"?

Anders: Why not? A mage has no freedom, no family, no say at all in their lives.

Sera: And a big tower with walls and a roof. Where they get a beds and bellies full of soup. And big men with big swords keeping them safe from everything that wants to gobble up their little mage butts.

Anders: "Big men with big swords"? Is that a templar?

Sera: And fire coming out of their fingers! Little people don't do that.

_____

Anders: Templars aren't there to keep mages safe.

Sera: Why they there then?

Anders: To keep mages scared.

Sera: Yeah. Same thing.

Anders: What?

Sera: Keeping them scared and keeping them safe. If they’re too scared talk to demons, then there’s no demons, if there’s no demons, then they’re safe. It's one thing.

Anders: You of all people can't think that's right!

Sera: Never said that. Just said its what they do.

_____

Sera: You're Varric's guy?

Anders: Varric's... what?

Sera: You're the guy who did the big 'splosion in the city? That was you?

Anders: Uh. Yes. That was me.

Sera: Piss-breath!

Anders: That's... kinder than most reactions I get, honestly.

_____

Anders: Sera-

Sera: Nuh-uh! You don't talk! You shut your mouth and stay away!

Anders: Not that our conversations were productive but really? I'm "Varric's guy" and not worth pestering anymore?

Sera: You killed people!

Anders: What do you do with your bow?

Sera: No. No, no, you don't do that. I never stuck an arrow in anyone who didn't deserve it.

Anders: I wish we were all so lucky, Sera, I really do.

_____

Sera: Can't believe you asked me if mages are little people when you're you.

Anders: Oh, you're talking to me. Good.

Sera: You blew up a Chantry full of little people! Burned them up! Squished them! All cause your circle cushions weren't fluffy enough!

Anders: I'm sorry. I am.

Sera: Shut up.

Anders: I tried for years to it peacefully, no one listened. I realized I had to do something they couldn't ignore.

Anders (Cont): The rebellion was a long time coming. If hadn’t been me, it would���ve been someone else.

Sera: But it was you. So piss off.

[warpedlegacy]

Hey, remember "I'm at soup"?...

Varric: Hello?

Hawke: Hey, what's up?

Varric: I need your, help, can you come here?

Hawke: Uhh, I can't, I'm buying clothes.

Varric: Alright, well hurry up and come over here.

Hawke: Uhh, I can't find them.

Varric: What do you mean you 'can't find them'?

Hawke: I can't find them, there's only soup.

Varric: What do you mean there's 'only soup'?

Hawke: It means there's only soup!

Varric: Well then, get out of the soup aisle!

Hawke: Alright, you don't have to shout at me!

*footsteps*

Hawke: There's more soup!

Varric: What do you mean there's 'more soup'?!

Hawke: There's just more soup!

Varric: Go into the next aisle!

Hawke: There's still soup!

Varric: Where ARE you right now?!

Hawke: I'M AT SOUP!

Varric: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE 'AT SOUP'?!

Hawke: I mean I'm AT SOUP!

Varric: WHAT STORE ARE YOU IN?!

Hawke: I'M AT THE SOUP STORE!!

Varric: WHY ARE YOU BUYING CLOTHES AT THE SOUP STORE?!!

Hawke: F*** YOU!!

[hairmetal666]

Eddie owns a record store, gets to talk about music everyday. Life is good. Great, actually.

He's consolidating the Christian rock section on a quiet Wednesday morning when it happens. A man with swoopy dark hair, tight dark blue jeans, and a plum Member's Only jacket walks in, and doesn't take his Ray Bans off even once he's solidly inside.

Eddie is awestruck. This dude is gorgeous. Heart stopping. He watches him browse in quiet astonishment, unable to say anything until he blurts, "Can I help you find something?"

The man smiles--Eddie's heart stops--and he says, "Nah, just browsing. Your sign caught my eye."

And he's still not quite with the program, the rich honey of the man's voice taking him totally by surprise. "Ah, oh, it did?" He manages after a few long beats. "Painted it myself."

"No shit? It's great."

"Thanks, man. I also think it's some of my finest work."

The guy laughs. "How can I know unless I see some of your other pieces?"

Eddie's face heats, but he's never been known for having good impulse control. "Maybe you'll get lucky."

Spots of pink bloom on the man's cheeks and the tips of his ears. "And here I was, thinking I was getting special treatment."

Eddie cocks his head, smiles big. "Well, the day's still young." It's so risky and stupid; no way this guy is queer, but he grins at Eddie, laughs a little too.

"That right? Well, tell me your latest recommendations."

"For you?" Eddie eyes him up and down. "Wham!"

The guy's laugh is warm and rich and Eddie wants to drown in it. "Big of you to say for a someone who's only listened to Enter Sandman for the last four months."

Eddie cackles, points a be-ringed finger. "It's a good song! A great record."

"Hey, I've got no problem with Metallica. I just don't think you should be casting aspersions on Wham!."

"Casting aspersions, do you have a word of the day calendar or some shit?"

"No! It's toilet paper."

Their snickers grow until they're both hysterical, needing to lean against a display to stay upright.

It's like he's living in a dream, hitting it off with a beautiful man who just happened to stumble into his store. They catch their breath and Eddie uses the time to grab a record off a nearby shelf.

"Here," he says. "Try this."

"Joni Mitchell?"

"Don't tell me, Wham! fan, that you're too cool for Joni."

"Nah, she's my best friend's favorite. How much do I owe you?"

"On the house," Eddie shrugs.

"Shit, that's generous. Thanks, man. Now, about your art--" He glances at the shiny watch on his wrist. "Fuck, is it really 3:15? Goddamnit, I gotta get going."

And Eddie wants to call him back, doesn't want this dream encounter to end, but he's dashing to the door--

And just like that, the man is gone, the only evidence it ever happened the lingering chime of the bell over the door.

The bell clatters again, and his head wrenches up hard enough it hurts his neck.

"Was that Steve Harrington?" the customer shrieks.

"No," he scoffs. Except. Except. The hair and the clothes and sunglasses and the face and his lips--

"No!?" He feels the way his eyes have gone wide with panic. He didn't just flirt with Steve Harrington. Of course not. Not ever. He would've recognized--

He runs to the racks of magazines in front of the register, grabbing the latest issue of People. The cover features a glossy, polished photo of the man who just left the store. The one who had the highest grossing movie of the summer alongside his co-star, Julia Roberts. The one who, according to the article within, is in Chicago right now shooting a new movie. The one who Eddie flirted with. The one who flirted back.

He groans and covers his face with his hands. At least he'll never see Steve Harrington again.

---

Harrington comes back.

The second time, he's wearing a jewel blue polo and fitted slacks, Ray Bans nowhere to be seen.

"Got anymore recommendations?" Steve asks.

"What?" Eddie's still trying to accept that Harrington came back.

"I finished Joni. It was good. Recommend something else for me."

Fully with the program, he reaches to the rack behind him, handing the vinyl to Steve without ever taking his eyes off him.

"Seriously?" Steve deadpans.

"Tell me you don't deserve it after last time."

Steve studies the cover of Metallica, a complicated look on his face. "Fine, but you have to listen to the album George Michael released last year."

He mimics getting shot in the heart. "After my magnanimous first suggestion, you dare to punish me with Freedom?"

"Think of it more as an opportunity."

"To regret every decision I've ever made?"

"To expand your musical horizons."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Fiiiine. It's a deal."

Steve beams. "Good! Ring me up."

And Eddie, he'd comp it again, but Steve gives him this look that tells him not to try it.

As they pass the magazine racks, Eddie points at one featuring Steve on the cover. "That thing you wore to the Vanity Fair party last month was hideous."

Steve snorts, then laughs. "Thanks. My stylist decided to go for something--"

"--terrible?--"

"Avant garde."

"Oh, is that what they're calling it these days?"

Steve pays, throws Eddie one last smile, "next time?"

Eddie nods, already certain this time is the last one.

---

He keeps coming back.

Eddie tries not to read into it.

Steve is straight, famously has a girlfriend. former horror movie child star turned cinema wunderkind, Nancy Wheeler. They're always on the covers of the tabloids, in ever more improbable stories about affairs and secret babies and french countryside weddings.

But he keeps coming back. And eventually, they grab dinner. And that dinner becomes lunches, movies, clubs, concerts. Eddie's in paparazzi photos, and there's no speculation about their relationship. Steve has a girlfriend.

But sometimes. Sometimes Steve will rest his hand on Eddie's nape, his lower back, let it linger. He'll trace a finger down the tattoos on Eddie's forearms or the patches of his battle vest. He'll lean too close when they talk, unafraid to press their bodies together. And he catches Steve's eyes on his mouth more than once, his pupils wide.

Over the next few weeks, Steve's gaze on Eddie's mouth gets hotter, his looks longer, and it's killing him. All he wants to do, all he ever wants to do, is close the distance between them, appease the gnawing beast of desire in his chest.

But Steve has a girlfriend.

They don't talk about her, not even when he knows all about Steve's best friend, Robin, and the gang of kids who adopted him, or Joyce and Hopper, his surrogate parents. Never Nancy.

He tries not to read into it.

---

They're supposed to meet for dinner. Steve scored reservations at a trendy new restaurant, but Eddie's late. Astronomically, horrifically late. It's pouring rain, it takes fifteen minutes to get a cab, traffic is a nightmare.

Out of patience and time, he decides to run the last few blocks to the restaurant. By the time he reaches the building, he's soaked to the bone, spluttering harsh breaths through mouthfuls of rain.

Steve is walking in the opposite direction, hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat.

"Steve?" He calls.

He turns and this is the first time Eddie's seen him angry. "You're late," Steve's eyes rake over him, and his face softens in an instant. He takes Eddie's wrist, leads him into an alley where the buildings are close enough to block some of the rain.

"What happened?"

"Traffic."

Steve's gaze go all soft and gentle, and Eddie's knees buckle a little. "You look like a drowned rat."

"Yeah, well." Eddie scoffs. "We can't all be beautiful movie stars."

"You're more beautiful than I could ever be, even soaking wet."

He shakes his head, ignoring the cascade of butterflies; Steve shouldn't say things like that. His vigorous movement sends wet strands of hair slapping him in the face.

Steve reaches out, softly brushes it back.

Eddie stops breathing.

Steve closes the distance between them.

What a thing, to be kissed by Steve Harrington. What a terrible, glorious thing.

He breaks it fast, face red, can't catch his breath. "Nancy," is all he can say.

"Nancy?"

"You have a girlfriend."

Steve's face scrunches. "She's not my girlfriend."

Eddie's mouth drops. "Yes, she is." They went to the Oscars together.

"Eddie." Steve takes a few steps back. "Eddie. I'm gay."

He laughs, an ugly honking thing. "C'mon. What could she possibly get out of that?"

Steve's eyes widen, eyebrows reaching his hairline, mouth pursed in a bitchy line. It takes Eddie a minute but, "Ohhhhh. So, it's all--?"

"It was the best way."

"But you're--?"

"I thought you clocked me immediately! Wham!???"

"That was because of the jacket!"

"Have you ever met a straight man who dresses like I do and likes George Michael??"

"That describes five dudes I see a day!"

"And you thought they were straight??"

Eddie stares into the middle distance, replaying some of those interactions, and--"Huh. Okay. I get hit on at work waaay more than I realized."

"For fuck's sake, Eddie!" He's shaking his head, but Eddie sees the way the corners of his mouth shake with suppressed laughter.

"I'm sorry! You have a very public straight relationship!"

Steve giggles, pulls Eddie close. "Is this okay?"

"So okay."

"You do like me back?"

"Are you kidding! Thought I was going insane, how much I want you."

"And now?"

"Come back to my place?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

And Eddie, he's seen Steve playing at love dozens of times, but this--right here, in a soggy, smelly alley where they're both soaking wet--it's more perfect than any movie.

[boyimjustaloserforyourlove]

Snap Snap Snap

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED IN MY POSTS OR THE NEXT PART IN THE COMMENTS OR ANYWHERE ELSE!

me to their seminal vesicles because i wasn't raised to take shit from no man 💅🏻 also them to you in this smau✉️

my second request!!?! i hope this is to your standards. no Choso and Yuji because I can't see my babies snapping. it can't happen.

you like ? let me know! comments and reblogs and likes are appreciated and give me dopamine!

send requests, I'll probably do them all lol. i hope it is to your liking.

don't worry, both of these will be coming. your vote decides which one comes first

[cobaltfluff]

so i started playing persona 4

where are the QoL features

[blorger]

"Are you…lecturing me on how to be more threatening? You?"  "I'm plenty threatening." "In what world?" "I'm a Death Eater! Very dangerous." "I've seen you crying to a ghost in a girls loo, Malfoy, you'll excuse me if I'm not trembling from fear."

"Wait," Teddy says, "he's not your special friend?"  "No, Teddy, my special friend is a girl."  "So, boys can't be special friends?"  "I—" Harry's mouth hangs open, eyes very round behind his glasses, clearly caught out. Hopeless. Utterly, despicably hopeless. He's so visibly in over his head that it's genuinely amusing, and Draco is finally starting to understand what's going on here, why Teddy looked so surprised to see him at the door; the girlfriend must be coming over, but Draco just so happened to get here first.  "Yes, of course they can," Draco answers Teddy, who looks up at him without blinking. "It's just that I'm not that. Or, well, I'm very special, so that's fitting, but I'm not Potter's friend. In fact, I'm his mortal enemy." Teddy frowns at him. "So, why are you in his house?"  "I visit," Draco says simply.

Teddy blinks at them from the doorway. His gaze flicks between them, and he says, very softly, "I heard shouting."  "Yes, we—" Harry's voice is thick, raspy, so he clears it once, twice, a third time, and tries again. "We had a…disagreement. I'm sorry you had to hear that, Teddy." "You're fighting?"  "No. Er, well, yes. A little bit. It's fine."  "You were kissing," Teddy says. "I saw it."  Harry's eyes sink shut for a moment, and he drags a hand through his hair, which Draco may have accidentally made a mess of, then he blows out a deep breath and opens his eyes. "That's—well, that did happen, yes. That was…something we did."  Teddy's eyes narrow. "I thought you were mortal enemies."  "Mortal enemies kiss…sometimes," Harry says weakly, clearly out of his depth here. He grimaces almost immediately after he says this, then seems to remember he's the adult out of the two of them and coughs, standing up taller.

from from love, obviously by bizarrestars 🔒

[batfambrainrotbeloved]

The temptation to join in those fake rp blogs but as Steph grows more and more everyday.

Edit: I made it.

[midmorninggrey]

Banters between Scout Lace Harding and Inquisitor Regent Arden Trevelyan.

Arden: Harding.

Harding: Your Worship.

Arden: Harding, don’t call me that. “Inquisitor” or “Trevelyan” is fine.

Harding: Right. Inquisitor. That’s what I’ll call you.

Arden: Harding!

Harding: Yes, Inquisitor.

Arden: Why’d you sign this report like I don’t know who you are?

Arden: Harding, you shot me.

Harding: Yes, that was me.

Arden: You think I forgot your name?

Harding: A lot of things happen to you.

Arden: Harding!

Harding: Hello, Inquisitor.

Arden: Did you write your mom?

Harding: Oh. No, not yet. It’s been busy-busy around here. With the demons. And everything.

Arden: Go write your mom. You’ll feel better.

Harding: Yes, Your Worship. Inquisitor!

Arden: Harding!

Harding: Your – Inquisitorship.

Arden: I want your take on that mountain.

Harding: It’ll be slow going, that’s for sure – this rain has turned everything slick. I hope you brought a different pair of boots.

Arden: Yeah? What’s wrong with my boots?”

Harding: Well, tall boots aren’t the easiest to climb in. And those are very tall.

Arden: They have to be tall, Harding. You know how far I had to shove my foot up Orlais' ass?

Harding: They are shiny.

Arden: [Laughs]

Harding: Inquisitor?

Arden: Harding?

Harding: I think there’s been a mistake. My mother wrote and said that she got a letter – from you.

Arden: Yeah, I wrote her. That ok?

Harding: I – you wrote those things about me?

Arden: Yeah. I meant them too.

Harding: Ar- Inquisitor. I – Thank you.

Arden: Anytime.

[cityandking]

Inquisitor: Is it a dwarf thing? Varric: I'm sorry? Inquisitor: The nicknames. Sparker, Ruffles, Curly, all those. Varric: Why would it be a dwarf thing? Inquisitor: I’ve never met anyone quite so taken with them. I figured, I don't know, maybe you all do it. Varric: Nope. Not that I know, anyway. Just me. Inquisitor: Got it. ...So what’s next, Sneezy? Bashful? Varric: Well now you’re just mocking me.

[herearedragons]

Devil: Y'know, Edér, I like you better than most folks. You're decent.

Edér: ...I get the feeling there's a "but".

Devil: But if I hear you talk 'bout the Watcher like she's an animal I'll feed you your own hands.

Edér: She told you about the "can I pet you" thing, didn't she.

Devil: I know you ain't done it since then. Just letting you know where I stand.

Devil: Can't believe I fell for an Aedyran girl.

Mae: I - what?

Devil: I love you, but you've got to admit you talk kinda funny.

Mae: Have I done something to you?

Durance: Strange company you keep, Watcher. Do you love precious metal so much that you prefer it to a living woman?

Mae: I... Wow. [pause] Wow. That's a first.

Durance: The truth has seared your tongue, I see.

Mae: No, it's just - there are so many insults that come to mind, I don't know what to choose. Can I get five minutes to consider my options?

[grabby-smitten]

Rafayel and you decided to get one of those get-along-shirts for Halloween because you both are always trying to unalive each other, then you two proceeded to make out. He calls it foreplay, but your blood pressure disagrees.

You both secretly hold hands but not because you like it but because his hand keeps wandering under the shirt. And you’re like “stop or else…”

And with a smug face he goes “Or else, what?” And you just pinch and twist whatever is closer to you. And you leave him squealing.

If that’s not true love then idk what is.

[sunegami]

“How can you be sure your bond would last through every trial that awaits down that path? Or would you risk the path itself stealing them from you?”

“I walk the Din’an’shiral. There is only death on this journey. I would not have you see what I become.”

h e l p m e

Fake banter for DA request: romanced Solas interacting with romanced Fenris

Hello anon who submitted this months ago. Guess what I finished.

I know you specified “Romance” but these are pretty romance neutral, I tried to sneak it in where I could though, especially in the one at the end!!

Note: All of this is meant to be post DA2, but during Inquisition’s timeline. In my head, these conversations would occur if Fenris came with a romanced Hawke.

____

Solas: Do your markings trouble you, Fenris? 

Fenris: Do the things carved into my flesh against my will, making every touch sting while turning me into a walking weapon, trouble me? 

Solas: I’m sorry. I only ask because... I may know a way to remove them.

Fenris: ...remove them?

Solas: I know a spell to remove markings etched into the skin. Permanently and painlessly. I have used it before, many times.

Fenris: And you would like to use it on me?

Solas: There are risks to be considered. I have never used it on markings with such properties as yours. But yes, if you would let me.

Fenris: I... will consider it.

____

Fenris: What would be the risks? If the markings were removed. 

Solas: It is hard to say for certain. 

Fenris: Try.

Solas: Assuming I am able to remove the lyrium, it is likely you would go through a withdrawal, as the templars do.

Fenris: Hm.

Solas: The lyrium has been in your blood for years. It would be hard, but you are strong. Our people do not suffer the effects of lyrium to the extent humans do. I have great faith you would survive.

Fenris: And after?

Solas: You would lose your abilities. While you resent them, as you live now you’ve known no different. You would have to learn how to live again, in more ways than you predict.

Fenris: I’ve learned harder lessons.

Solas: I believe you, and I believe you would gain far, far more than you would lose.

Fenris: You say that like you have something particular in mind?

Solas: I can make no assurances, but I believe there is a chance your memory... may be restored. Your life before, the people you knew, the places you traveled, they would be yours once again. 

Fenris: (Hard silence)

Solas: Fenris?

Fenris: I do not wish to discuss this further.

____

Solas: I apologize if I offended, Fenris.

Fenris: Thank you.

Solas: Though I confess, I’m uncertain what I said to cause such offense.

Fenris: You enjoy your stories, yes? Allow me to attempt a story.

Fenris: There was a boy named Leto. He had a mother and a sister. He sold himself so they would be freed from the heel of magic. That mother would die without him and he would not know to grieve her. One day he would escape, and that sister would sell him back so she could become the heel.

Fenris: Tell me, is that a story you would want to remember?

Solas: No.

Fenris: Then you understand-

Solas: No, that is not the story. Those are fragmented pieces you have put together and convinced yourself is the whole because you would rather not search for the rest.

Solas (Cont.): I do understand now, Fenris. Greatly. Thank you.

____

Solas: What makes your story so preferable to the truth?

Fenris: It is the truth.

Solas: It is not. It is a shield so you may live without guilt. Just what is it that makes this story worth that kind of ignorance?

Fenris: I am free. I fight for what I choose. I have friends. I am in love. That isn’t enough? 

Solas: You would trade your life to fight and lay with the Champion?

Fenris: This is my life.

Solas: You do not know what you’ve lost!

Fenris: Perhaps. I know what I have.

____

Solas: I saw a woman in the Fade.

Fenris: I’ll inform the Inquisitor. 

Solas: She sits in the basement of a shop, surrounded by the silks. The vibrant colors and softness of which have shielded her more than any stone.

Solas (Cont.): She holds a letter between numb, needle-pricked fingertips. She does not know the name in the signature, but she can hear his voice so clearly in the words.

Solas (Cont.): Over her bitter hope, she tells herself, It’s not him. Where would he have learned to write?

Fenris: You enjoy the sound of your voice, mage. Will you like the taste when I rip it out?

Solas: Fenris, you can’t frighten me. All I feel for you is pity.

____

(Post Solavellan break-up)

Fenris: This is the man you’d see me become?

Solas: And what man is that?

Fenris: A man turning my back on now for a fantasy.

Solas: There is nothing? Truly nothing worth it?

Fenris: Correct.

Solas: If you had to choose between the freedom of every slave in Tevinter, and a life with the Champion, you would not choose the slaves? 

Fenris: Why am I choosing?

Solas: What?

Fenris: Why is Hawke not at my side? Why would they ever make me choose?

Solas: How can you be sure your bond would last through every trial that awaits down that path? Or would you risk the path itself stealing them from you?

Fenris: You are a coward.

[neck-thats-made-for-bruising]

People say it's better to have no friends than fake ones

??? No the fuck it's not have you ever attended school in your life

[bexandicelia]

Jay Hogart and Manny Santos Degrassi S7E11