#lets go on little adventures together!!!

[triona-tribblescore]

You have been EL WIWI'ed

KREDENA- I HAVE NEVER FELT MORE POWERFUL-

[loquaciousquark]

when will eppie hawke and fenris meet tavish and astarion? (:

"And anyway, it won't be that bad. One last little Fade rift. We'll barricade it up as best we can, send a message to Skyhold, go home, and—"

One of the craggy footholds crumbles away beneath Hawke's foot, and it's only Fenris's quick hand that saves her from a plummet back down the side of the barren mountain. "Hawke, please."

"Please yourself. I said you didn't have to come."

Fenris throws her a longsuffering look, the flickering green lightning of the rift casting weird shadows over his eyes, but he doesn't let go of her arm until she's got both feet on solid ground again. "Just seal it and let this be done."

"My heart's only desire, lover," Hawke says, smiling, just as another pair of voices rises from the other side of the rift.

"Careful—careful! It shocks like the entire Hells are in there. Where's Gale?"

"Wherever Karlach dropped him, I suppose, with that little sprained ankle of his. No, I see them, they're almost here. Come away, darling. No need to get so dramatically close."

"This, from you?" says the woman, just as she and her fellow voice round the far edge of the rift. "Oh!"

"Well!" Hawke says almost at the same moment. Two of them after all: a short, slim woman with auburn hair pulled back in a low tail, and a tall, lithe man with hair as white as Fenris's and eyes that gleam like rubies. The man has a dagger drawn already, a thin smile playing over his face; the woman's fingers rest on her sheathed rapier, but her gaze is open, friendly. Hawke plants her staff on the rocky ground in as welcoming a gesture as she can manage. "Fancy running into someone like you up here of all places."

"I could say the same," the woman says. The green rift, still hanging between them and stretching a good twenty feet into the sky, gives an ominous rumble. "Our wizard's been fretting about magical disturbances along the city's borders for weeks. He finally traces the source to this location, and here you are at the heart of it. I'd like to believe it's coincidence."

"Alas," Hawke says, "one of my greatest faults is a terrible habit of being around when things begin. Fenris can attest to that better than most." She lays a hand on Fenris's shoulder, but he's stiff as iron, eyes glued to the man's dagger, and he's reached back for the hilt of his greatsword. "I'm Hawke, by the way."

"Call me Tav."

"And I'm Astarion," the man says grandly, accompanied by a wholly unnecessary flourish of his dagger. "We're here to steal the world."

"Save it," Tav says sharply.

"Of course, my dear. Save the world. What did I say?"

Fenris makes a short, disgusted noise, but Hawke's pleased to see he's let go of his own sword. She doesn't think this Astarion is going to kill them—not easily, anyway—and she likes the look of Tav despite herself. Both of them quick on their feet, she thinks, both moving gracefully with an innate, self-assured balance. As Tav steps around the rift Astarion moves with her like water, without even needing to see where she's gone. It reminds her a great deal of Fenris and herself, actually, though Hawke would give an arm to trust her own feet that much.

Fenris, it seems, has come to similar conclusions, and he rolls his shoulders as he releases their tension. Even his voice has lost its nascent fury, which for Fenris is practically friendly in situations like this. "The rift is dangerous. We will guard it until the Inquisitor can seal it permanently. Be on your way."

"Inquisitor?" drawls Astarion with that same, thin-lipped smile. "Sounds like someone from dear Shadowheart's former enclave, don't you think?"

"I don't think they're Sharran," Tav says. "Are you?"

"What a speculative look you've put on," Hawke says, delighted. "I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about. Unless you'd like me to be Sharran, in which case, I most certainly am and in fact have always been."

Both Fenris and Astarion roll their eyes—hilarious in its own right, but heightened by the clear antipathy still remaining between them. Fenris sighs. "Hawke—"

The rift explodes.

Green lightning shatters over the rocky cliff. The rumble bursts into a deafening roar; the faint breeze that had been dancing around them sweeps up into a hurricane. The air cracks and snaps with a sudden smell of ozone.

Hawke throws her hand over her eyes. She can't see—the wind tears her hair from its bindings and she can't see past the brilliant flashes of blazing green and she can't hear— "Fenris!"

Someone's fingers wrap around hers. She wrenches up her staff, calls for fire—for ice—for anything—but the rift has become a maelstrom and every scrap of magic sucks into the raging whirl before she can shape it. Her boots skid on the stone as she tries to brace against the inexorable pull, pebbles and rocks rattling along every step. She can't—the hand wrapped around hers has seized tight as a vise, but she's slipping anyway, and Maker, she can't—

A man's echoing voice, stripped bare of all artifice, wild with fear: "Tav!"

The wind dies. Not slowly, not gradually; it falls off like someone's upturned a glass over the rocky cliff, and Hawke's ears roar in the sudden silence. The wind is gone, and the rift is gone with it as if it had never been, the thunderous clouds that had been swirling above it already dissipating to glimpses of blue morning sky.

"Andraste preserve me," Hawke says, loud in the quiet, and she looks over to see Tav still crouched against the face of the mountain. One of Tav's hands clutches a dagger she'd wedged deep into a stony crevice; the other is still wrapped tight around Hawke's wrist where she'd pulled her away from the tempest.

No sign of Fenris. No sign of the other one—Astarion. A long white scrape in the stone marks where Fenris's sword had sought and failed to find purchase, disappearing at the precise place where the rift had torn itself open.

Gone. Gone, gone. Her heart hammers in her throat, and she indulges in thirty seconds of agonizing grief before she sets it aside, turns, and pulls Tav to her feet.

"Well," Hawke says at last. "Looks like it's just you and me, then. Ready for an adventure?"

"Yes," Tav says, her grip on Hawke's hand like steel, and her eyes blaze. "You and me. Let's get them back."

—

Everything hurts. Everything godsdamned hurts, and Astarion lets out a pained groan as he rolls to his back and drops his arm over his face. His ears ring like bells, and something twinges painfully in his left hip, and the inconvenient sun has decided to blaze right in his face and gods damn it, he'd known they ought to wait for Gale. Wretched wizard and his weak ankles. Wretched Tav and her complete inability—

"Tav," Astarion says, and sits bolt upright.

No Tav. Not even the dark-haired sorcerer with the wide smile. Just that taciturn warrior in leather and half-plate seated on a rock a few feet away, watching Astarion get his bearings, his greatsword slung across his knees and a deeply sour look on his tattooed face. The skies above them are clear and blue as a song.

No Tav. No Hawke. No rift. No plan, and no company besides an irascible stranger with the same sudden look of dawning horror.

"Venhedis."

"Shit."

[creativesplat]

Tears (an excuse to draw the ToTK dragon armours...)

[pkmoth]

having swap au thoughts. *slaps roof of claus* there's so much mental illness in this guy. im gonna blow up everyone in the room and then myself

[shannonsketches]

One of Geets lines just now was something “Looks like a cave. I like to explore caves.” so that was oddly endearing

[dent-de-leon]

Remembering how Taliesin was kinda crushed about losing the whole circus so early on because he was kinda hoping Matt would let them keep it as a kind of traveling home base. Just, the thought of what the Nein joining their little traveling circus would look like.

Mollymauk not having to leave home, having the comfort and safety of that familiarity. Getting to continue to explore all of Exandria while never having to leave the family that raised him. Molly sitting beside Toya, singing old folksongs under the Moonweaver's guiding light. Working on some secret routine for when they roll into the next town, some exciting and extravagant performance he's managed to rope Yasha into. Giving his pitch and passing out flyers at the next tavern, inviting everyone to come see a show they'll never forget.

Yasha feeling a little more comfortable traveling with the Nein at first--because she's already grown so fond of Molly and their little circus family, has come to love the sight of returning home to the big top towering in the distance, the parade of caravans and brilliant lights. Molly always waiting for her, shuffling his deck with deft hands and his charming smile, offering her up a card that foretells a future full of joy and love.

The day when Yasha finally acquires her bone harp, tentatively strums at its strings for the very first time. Plays a soft, mournful song that's wonderfully bittersweet. Desmond gently encouraging her, playing along on his enchanted violin. Molly humming softly beside them, tail swinging happily.

Caleb and Nott eventually working on their own little routine--but only once they leave big cities far behind, in the safety of farmlands and sleepy little towns on the outskirts of the Empire. Places where the wizard can finally stop ducking his head and looking over his shoulder. "Nothing with fire," Caleb insists in a hushed, grave whisper, so they leave the pyrotechnics to Orna.

But Molly truly believes he's a Magician of some sort, which makes him smile wanly. Magicians are for fairytales and easily fooled townsfolk; charismatic conmen with cheap tricks and sleight of hand. Never any real magic. And yet, Mollymauk is still dazzled by a cantrip as simple as Dancing Lights, insists that in itself is fantastical--beautiful.

As terrified as Caleb is of the spotlight, he's happy to perform a parlor trick or two if it means spare coin for his books. And if Nott darts about the audience and pockets a little extra gold here and there while the Magician has their audience utterly captivated, well--that's just a bonus.

Jester performs too, because of course she does--she's Jester. And Molly finds it's hard to really deny her anything. Her magic is colorful, charming, playful. Conjured butterflies and miniature unicorns, exaggerated displays always sparkling and bright. She and her fae friend compliment each other well. She's the kind of person who can make just about anyone smile.

Fjord volunteers as stagehand when they could use the extra help, just wanting to lend a hand and make a good impression. And he can't help trying to wheedle a little bit of information out of the other performers when the chance arrises, all too curious about the mysterious blood hunter he often bunks with. Whenever he does, Beau is inevitably not far behind him, journal in hand as she demands answers. "Those swords--are they really magic? Where the hell did he find them?" "How long has Molly been in the circus? Did he ever visit home?" "Any family? Any chance their blood is like his--"

[void-botanist]

Thade Adventures: Parkour

OCs: Thade Orech-Pabat, Caladea Ores-Pabat, and Pirianus Orech-Pabat

Words: 500

Content warnings: heights, getting kinda made fun of in front of your crush

Taglist: @vacantgodling

“Do you think it’s possible to parkour all the way down to the ground floor from here?” Thade said, leaning against the railing at the edge of the open space that cut all the way down to said ground floor.

“Maybe,” Caladea said, barely looking up from her phone.

He grinned.  “You think I should try?”

She looked up for real.  “No, you can’t parkour.”

“I can totally parkour,” he said, pushing himself up on his arms so that his hips rested against the top of the railing.  He brought one sandaled foot up between his hands—he wasn’t going to go further than crouching on the rail, because he couldn’t parkour, but his foot slipped out from under him and his arms betrayed him and he found himself bent double over the railing, clinging to the slats, his feet barely skimming the carpet.  The fourth floor suddenly looked very high up.  

“Okay, I take it back,” he said.  “Can you help me?”  If he’d been with anyone but Caladea, they probably would have left him there to think about his actions for a while, but she came over right away to haul him back up by his pants waistband.  Which would have worked if he hadn’t chosen this moment to be wearing sweatpants.  Instead of helping, she just pulled down his pants, and he suspected also his boxer briefs.

“Oh no, I’m sorry,” she said like it was an accident, but she was also giggling.  

“Callie, you better not be filming this.”

“I’m not.”  Giggle giggle.  She must be, because she certainly wasn’t helping him.  He kicked his legs a little bit and felt a cold rush of fear as he shifted forward on the rail.  Well, this was fine.  He could just work his way back up the slats with his hands, and he would eventually slide back onto the floor.  It wouldn’t be easy, but it would be faster.  He’d hardly started when he felt familiar rough-edged hands on his hips and he was ungraciously pulled back upright.  As his blood stopped pooling in his head, he beheld Pirianus standing there, frowning as always.  That is, until Caladea showed him something on her phone, and he cracked a tiny blue-edged smile.

“Thanks,” Thade said with zero gratitude, pulling up his stupid sweatpants.  Before he could escape these two chucklefucks, though, Caladea turned her phone on him, and he was met with a photo of himself stranded over the rail, his panicked face looking through the slats, and his hairy asscrack surrounded by ironic hearts and sparkles.  Across the top was the word PARKOUR flanked with party poppers and flames.

“Great, thank you,” he said with a fake smile.  It should have been funny.  He should have been laughing—he could take a joke at his expense any day of the week—but instead he felt his cheeks burning.  “I’ll get that put on my calling cards.”  

He didn’t look at her or Pirianus as he walked away.

[incorrect-starbula]

Mantis, sighing: Gamora is so beautiful... Drax: Don't be jealous. You're beautiful too... on the inside, at least. Mantis: I'm not being jealous, Drax. I'm being gay.

[whomturgled]

i have so many feelings and i hate it

[maddisandy]

something something still writing my curse of strahd fic. having to find ways to make it more difficult since theyre coming in from being level 13 post game

[dracoserpentis]

@honorhearted gets a semi-flashback!

the sun is past it's peak in the sky, late afternoon upon thorndil as the princess changes her clothing into something less formal and more of the common classes. she knows ben is outside, her guard for the evening and that he's capable of protesting far more than her other guards feel able to but it's the last day of one of the cities fetes and she wants to experience it, not from the tourneys held within the confines of the palace lands but as her people do. she wants to experience the colors and the joy and the excitement of it and she is ever determined to, it's just a matter of sneaking out of the confines of the palace and making her sir poe doesn't find out. still, she is not an idiot about it, her normally icy blonde hair appears darker, almost as dark as the princes' hair that they'd inherited from their grandfather. nearly black. one of her attendants had created the waxy mixture herself that they had worked through lyliana's hair. it'd come out with a good washing but for now she looked ever unlike herself, at least from the perspective of the feature she was known to the people for. most people of the city had never been close enough to her face to actually remember her facial features. her clothes are layered too, a finer cloak open and hanging off her shoulders revealing a somewhat shabbier one underneath. she could shed the top one once they got to the secret tunnels that'd lead out of the palace. because she fully intended to drag him with her and was well aware if he wanted to keep to his oath to protect his dearest friend he was going to have to join her. alright, perhaps her and sir caleb might have to fight for such title of dearest friend but she did have the fact she was the princess of the nation on her side.

maybe such was playing dirty, but lyliana was determined and it wasn't as if going into the city was going to be as dangerous as when she'd drug him out into the darhk forest when they were younger. now that, even she could admit, hadn't been the smartest move. but her dragon had been overhead so they'd made the trip in one piece. ah to be young and adventurous. she thinks, a small smirk coming to her features that she knows will certainly not be on sir ben's. door to her chambers opens gently and quietly, her half-stepping out to draw his attention from his watch of the corridor. he certainly had to have expected something from her, rare was it that she let him merely do his job outside her chambers without engaging in some kind of conversation or excursion even if it was just a walk about the gardens in the evening before she'd go to sleep because sir ben wasn't her other guards. they'd known each other most of their lives, experienced growing up together, been tutored together at times and while she was always nice and engaging with the rest of the watch which protected her, she always felt a certain level of guilt that ben was to watch over her when he was one of the people she trusted above many others, when to her he was her equal rather than just another knight sworn honor and defend her family. she never had liked holding herself above others in any real sense, even if she was the crown princess and sometimes pulled rank to get her way on such occasions like this night.

"ben--" she begins, using his name and not the honorific in an attempt to win him over with their friendship. "--before you try to say no, let me remind you that i'll find a way to go out there even if i have to call apo to my window. and that will cause far more of a scene than if we just sneak out through the tunnels. it's the last day and i want to see it and i'll surely i'l be the safest princess in all of the ten if you're with me." her eyes are pleading in that way that always reminds of a baby animal or child. completely innocent, except she knows they are both well aware of her use of such tactic, at least with him and perhaps her father and brother. as a point of fact she's used such on his father before too. it never quite worked on her mother though. "i promise we don't have to stay in the city long."

[frozenambiguity]

«The day Diluc is not such a bore is the day I rejoice».

[dirt-str1der]

Literally cant care about anything other than majima haruka bonding

[kuromi-hoemie]

ugh i know it was just a dream but I'm thinking a lot about this couple from my dream 🥺

[boygirlctommy]

watching ark: tas and <3 the animation is so bad even my dad can tell

[musedriven]

When you ship a pairing so rare you’ve gotta either make the art yourself or perish—