#my neighbours leave there dog alone and it just howls and barks all day

[christhebrit2]

The dogs on my street are going fucking mental today. So im assuming a Terminator is around.

[evergreen-dryad]

like clouds passing by

7 - childhood friends AU - MDZS, Wangxian, early 2000s

—the one where WWX and LWJ are neighbours on the same street, and before WWX moves away he gives LWJ the rabbits they bonded over.

from this list of prompts here for August.

.

If he were to tell his story, he might have told it thus:

Once, there was a little boy who often played by himself. He lived on a street with two other houses: one red, one purple, his own blue.

When he was younger, Wang Ji had not thought much of people, or of animals. What mattered most were rules, and the fulfilling of them. When things turned out exactly like clockwork, and all words were accounted for.

Days were spent doing schoolwork, practicing calligraphy, and running through scales on the piano after his elder brother had had his turn, with their uncle providing guidance.

It was a peaceful, sleepy existence, and the trees whispered unceasingly at the doors and windows. But things never do stay the same, do they? The blue boy and the boy from the brick-red house met.

This was how it happened.

He had been absorbed in reading, as he had been prone to do as a child. Lan Wang Ji would faithfully parse through each schoolbook, carefully memorising every piece of information, so that it may be laid out for recitation. Teachers had loved him, for he had not been given to noise.

He can't remember what exactly he had been reading anymore, but he remembers he had reached the part about Yu The Great, of how he had redirected the river—

When a terrific shriek had rent the air.

Lan Wang Ji stilled. He remained seated where he was. Slowly, he craned his head outwards, leaning out of the inner shade of the porch.

The wails soon got louder as the source shot into the garden. Wang Ji promptly retracted his head, alarmed at the sight of — another child, howling his head off, hurling curses at whatever was behind him, and then honing in on him.

Wang Ji flinched. Fists tightening, he quickly scooped his book into his lap before the loud footsteps could stomp over it. The strange child, cowering behind him, was now whimpering and murmuring words— Wang Ji realised then he was screaming the same words (don't come here, get away!) – so rapidly, they almost sounded like a mantra.

“Coward!” Another voice echoed over the wall. It whistled, and the puppies that were about to trespass into his garden as well retreated, tails wagging as they bounded back to their owner.

The noisy one behind him moaned some more. He was starting to sound grumpy. “Who wants to play with you anyway!”

A disdainful “Hmph!” sounded before cooing to the puppies: “Love, Jasmine, Princess, let’s go!”

Gagging sounds. “Why did he have to name them like that… they don’t fit their names at all!” Exhaling, the intruder peeked out from behind him. Grey eyes, he realised with surprise. Their lashes were still wet from tears. This person had been genuinely frightened after all. Those eyes locked onto him then.

Silver and gold interlocked at that point.

Wang Ji did not look away. Surprisingly, he found himself holding his breath. Even more surprisingly, the boy in front of him broke into a huge grin.

“Thanks, friend! Those dogs sure were scary, weren’t they!” Once he began, it was as if a dam broke and the chattering flooded out.

Wang Ji, bewildered, and rather annoyed he had been kept from reading, decided this visitor needed showing out. Unbothered, the strange boy got up to follow him.

"Those dogs, ugh! Bark whenever they see anyone! Who says they're just being friendly, they sound so angry, clearly they're about to bite." He shuddered theatrically.

Wang Ji chose to walk faster.

"They chase every living thing under the earth, for no reason why! Just too cruel, nearly scared me and my rabbits to death-! Oh."

The boy actually pouted at him.

"You want me to go already?" Wang Ji was about to tell him to have a good day when the boy leaned in conspiratorially, as if to confide a secret.

"Want to see my rabbits?"

Wang Ji opened his mouth to refuse. He closed it again.

"Rabbits?" He finally spoke to the strange, smiling boy. At his question the boy actually lit up.

"Mn, rabbits! I've two, one white one black. They're really cute~" He said in a singsong manner, arms propped behind his mop of hair.

At this point in time, Wang Ji had still not seen a rabbit in real life, let alone met one. He had only read of them in the fairy-tale books in the library, and occasionally on the television. So he was understandably piqued.

Yet he still hesitated. He wasn't sure if it was okay to just step into another person's residence without prior permission. The boy seemed to pick up on his uneasiness, so he said:

"Wait a mo!"

And off he ran. He shrieked a little as the puppies from next door barked and lunged at him, but fortunately they were leashed this time. Wang Ji watched his back disappear into the house next to the Jiangs’.

He stood there momentarily, before returning to his book left on the porch. This time, he sat on the outer edge.

The sun has gone behind the clouds, he told himself. Late afternoon sunlight spilled over him and the pages, pleasantly warm. Shadows of leaves swayed together with the yellowing light on the grass.

A larger shadow loomed and blotted over the white paper. Wang Ji looked up to see the boy carting two little rabbits by their ears.

He came, laughing and forever unable to stay still, into the quiet garden, bearing two rabbits.

He was shocked speechless.

"What's wrong? Your face got even stiffer than before.” The boy laughed, and presented them to him as if they were hunting trophies. They dangled quietly, without protest. “That surprised to see me?”

He tensed. "Put them down."

The boy looked at him bemusedly. "Ah, so that's what you're worried about." He tucked them into the crook of his arms, hand gently petting them. They really were very docile, Wang Ji noted.

"Doesn't it hurt them?"

“Hmm, my dad likes to lift them up like that, I think they must have gotten used to it." The boy circled a finger around the delicate ear of the white rabbit. It flicked upwards, tickled.

"You shouldn't do that." He said, young face serious.

The boy peered at him, a smile playing about his thin lips. "Relax, I never do it for long. Just did it to surprise you, haha!" He sat down beside him; the rabbits let down into his lap. They scrambled for footing and blinked curious eyes at him, whiskers quivering. One pair red, the other black.

"Want to hold one?" He offered in a softer voice.

Lan Wang Ji stared as the black one sniffed one corner of his book, considering. "Mn." He gingerly brought a finger closer to the twitching nose. A thought suddenly occurred to him. Do rabbits eat paper? Fascinated despite himself, he let the wandering nose creep closer.

(They do.

If Lan Wang Ji ended up with a slightly nibbled page, he did not say a word.)

His finger made contact. The rabbit looked up at him, ears perking.

It gently nosed back, butting his finger.

Wang Ji soon found himself booping a rabbit repeatedly as it raised its head higher and higher, chasing his finger on the way up.

A light laugh drifted next to his ear. Wang Ji glanced at him briefly, and looked away when they made eye contact.

“He just wants you to rub his head properly.” He was informed with a fond smile. The white rabbit remained curled up contentedly in its owner’s lap, watching its companion’s antics with lazy disdain.

So it continued until Lan Wang Ji ended up learning how to hold two rabbits that day, instead of Chapter 7 of the history textbook. The boy wouldn’t go until he had held both in his arms and petted them to his heart’s content, which was …not easy to determine, to say the least.

The boy kept scrutinising his face for any change in detail. What was he looking for?

"You should go soon-”

“Hold them longer. Hug them to your heart! Stare into their eyes!”

“…” He complied. The boy's eyes were too insistent, so he followed each step as bidden. Wang Ji gazed down into the blinking eyes of the rabbits held securely to his chest, and felt ...comforted. It was strangely soothing to feel two little heartbeats next to his own.

“Alright,” he sighed, voice squeaking on the verge of laughter. “I’ll take that as a smile.”

Wang Ji immediately frowned, puzzled. He almost felt for his face. Is that what it was? Why was he so eager to coax a smile out of him?

“You like them, so I’ll bring them over again~” With that, the boy bounded out of the garden into the fading evening light, as silent as he had come. Wang Ji got up—

—and finally noticed his clothes were mussed with small hairs.

.

// I wrote this in 2019 originally for LWJ’s birthday event, but I never managed to finish it. It’s been lurking since at ~10k words, haven’t written any more of it. Not sure if I will, it’s very long. If anyone’s interested in reading more, I can post the rest of what I’ve written!

So! Much of my childhood ended up bleeding in! I’ve a lot of fond memories like that, aha. Tried to set it in China at first, remembered the 1-kid-rule was in place at that time, gave up.

-have decided to style their courtesy names in canon as their only names in this modern au, hence the space apart.

[siarven]

INKTOBER DAY 06 - Husky

my other inktober art | about hope beyond

1300 words.

The frost has painted flowers on Alia‘s window when she wakes up, and they glow like molten gold in the bright sunlight. 

Despite how pretty they are, Alia can feel the restless energy in her bones, making her fingers twitch with a need to move, to run, to play. 

She knows that it‘s late enough. Maybe not for Morgan, but Morgan isn‘t Alia‘s only (person) friend. There’s also Phaedra, and she’s is a morning bird, too! 

At least that‘s what she said when Alia asked, a few weeks back. Alia is pretty sure that she was lying, though. After all, her window goes in the direction of Phaedra‘s house and sometimes when she wakes from her nightfrights when it’s dark outside, the light in Phaedra‘s window is still on and she‘s pacing, or sitting on her bed, huddled in her blankets. Sometimes, Alia blinks her light a few times until Phaedra finally looks over. She isn’t sure if that helps but she knows that it makes her feel less alone, so maybe it does the same for Phaedra? 

They‘ve never talked about it during the day.

The rest is below the cut, as is the tag list :3

☀☀☀

It‘s cold outside the bed, and Alia dresses quickly, in several layers of warm, cozy things. And a scarf. Morgan loves scarfs, and Alia loves them, too. It‘s something they have in common. 

Then she carefully opens her door, making sure that it doesn‘t creak, and makes her way downstairs (avoiding the Bad Steps). 

She drinks a glass of orange juice, puts some more dry food out for the cats (they‘re already complaining loudly but Morgan is the one who gives them wet food, and Morgan won‘t be up for another hour or two, so it‘s better than nothing). She also pours a tiny amount of watered down milk on a saucer for Mighty One. Morgan might be irritated by that but Alia’s done it enough times by now that she probably won’t even mention it. 

Then, finally, Alia unlocks the front door with her very own, shiny key, putting it in her pocket. The neighbours here are all very nice and she knows that nobody else locks their doors... but Morgan grew up in the city, and she‘s probably going to need a while until she stops doing it, if it ever happens.

☀☀☀

The husky greets her in front of Phaedra’s door, pushing against her leg, almost making her stumble. She laughs, kneeling next to him, and starts rubbing his belly when he flops over. His fur is thick and deep and so soft, so soft...

“Alia?”

She looks up. Phaedra looks down at her with amusement (but also a faint, underlying concern) written all over her face. Alia laughs.

“I‘ve made a new friend!”, she says. “His name is ... something cold? I think?” She concentrates, frowning. “Ice?... Frost.. hmm...”

“—Winter?”, Phaedra asks. Her voice is tiny, almost not there at all.

Alia‘s smile slips, and she nods. Can feel her heart thudding in her chest. Here it is; the day has come. She knows it‘ll be worth it. Still, now that the moment is here, she‘s daunted by the task in front of her.

Phaedra, for her part, just stops moving. Even the small motions, like breathing or blinking, ... stop.

“Winter?”, Phaedra repeats. Her voice is brittle as ice, and so quiet that the word almost doesn’t reach Alia. 

She suppresses the fluttering in her heart and smiles faintly at Phaedra. “Yeah. I‘ve seen him around before. He‘s a very good boy. Maybe even the best one.”

Winter rolls to the side and gets back up, wagging his tail so strongly that it moves his entire butt. Then he howls in both pain and triumph (Alia can feel it reverberate in her very soul, and it makes her want to cry and sing at the same time), running around Phaedra and Alia in circles. She can feel that he wants to get closer but that he’s also... afraid of it.

“Is he… a dog?”, Phaedra asks. She knows the truth already. Has known it from the moment Alia let her guess his name. 

Still, Alia nods, slowly pushing herself back up on her feet. She‘s only a bit shorter than Phaedra. It feels wrong, to be this tall. Very wrong. Not relevant. “He‘s a husky”, she says very softly, trying to suppress the tears that are suddenly welling up in her eyes. 

You have done very well, Rhisíl whispers at the back of her thoughts, voice creaking like leaves and bark and branches. Her nose tingles, but she holds the tears back nonetheless. 

“I had a husky named Winter when I was a child”, Phaedra says. Her voice is far away, both from Alia and from herself. Distanced. Almost lost, but not quite. 

Phaedra has gone to the past, to a place that hurts, but also a place that‘s filled with love and longing.

Sometimes Alia wishes that she had such a place, but now is not the time for thoughts like that. There are good moments there, true, but the other ones outweigh them one to ten. Easier to suppress. Especially now. 

“He‘s watched over you”, Alia hears herself say. Her voice sounds like hers, but also not. It‘s as far away as Phaedra, in a place she will never be able to reach. “He‘s always been with you.” He just needed a bit of love, to grow, to take shape again. 

A tear rolls down Phaedra‘s cheek and she blinks, once, twice. More tears come. She collapses to the ground, grasping her elbows with her hands, burying her face in her arms. Winter approaches carefully, starts licking her arm. Alia doesn‘t want to look at him, because she can feel the Change. They always change when she finally acknowledges their Truth. She doesn‘t know why. The world is far away, bright and beautiful, and her heart aches with love, but also with the sads. 

Winter‘s face looks just like it did before, but the rest of him doesn‘t. His fur is matted, dark and slick. He‘s trailing long, thin ribbons behind him. Two of his legs are dark and strange.  Bone sticks out here and there, and his soul glows brightly from within his ribcage. Some of the bones are black, but others aren’t. Their placement is strange, as if there are two different dimensions to him at the same time, one with the bones on the outside, one with them on the inside, and sometimes they mingle.

He‘s still beautiful, though, and his entire being glows with the eternal love he will forever hold for Phaedra.

Alia blinks away a tear and smiles sadly. 

“He just wants to let you know that he loves you very much”, she says. Phaedra looks at her, with lost eyes full of tears and pain, but when she smiles it‘s the most beautiful thing Alia‘s ever seen.

“Thank you”, she says. Her voice only cracks a little, near the end. Alia smiles and even if there are tears in the way, she knows that Phaedra doesn‘t mind. She sits down next to her, and Phaedra puts an arm around her shoulder.

A brave step, Rhisíl whispers. You‘ve done well, little one. Pain hurts, but sometimes the right pain can heal, too. 

Alia doesn‘t reply. She can feel him circling high above, high above the clouds. Winter dances around them, trailing shadows behind himself, and Alia knows she‘s done the right thing. 

She isn’t sure if it’ll change anything between herself and Phaedra, but even if it does… it was worth it.

☀☀☀

@writingwordsanddrawingpictures​ @kittensartswriting​ @afragilestrongsoul​ @ettawritesnstudies​

----

I’m uploading yesterday’s art this late because there was an electrical issue at home yesterday. If we hadn’t caught it, the whole house could’ve burned down o_o so I drew my inktober art with a flashlight, because we put out all the electronics except for the fridge, and hoped that it would survive the night... (the emergency electrician couldn’t access the problem are because the company we get our electricity from has “safety measures” in place which he couldn’t get around. And they weren’t open because it was Sunday. Yaay.)

I’m mostly happy with how it turned out, even if there are a few things I would’ve preffered to end up differently XD

Hope you like him :3

[elvhenamie]

Reunited - Fenhawke fluff

So myself and the lovely @becauseofthesesouls​ / @unknownjenmun​ have done a bit of Fenhawke fluff, hope you enjoy! After a long day of adventuring, where is the place Hawke wants to be? Well, first, with Fenris, but second, in the Hanged Man with a drink in his hand... Gathered in the familiar dinge and dirt of the Hanged Man, Garret Hawke and his friends howled in laughter around a table of Wicked Grace as Merrill yet again showed complete lack of understanding to Isabela's insistent flirtation against the innocent Elf. Hawke stumbled back from the bar with a round of drinks, and when he sat down, he more fell down, ending up half on Fenris' lap, grinning at the white-haired elf. "Oooooh hello handsome!" Hawke grinned lecherously through slurs. Fenris turned to the other man and put his cards down on the table, turning to Hawke, looking unimpressed.

"You're drunk, Hawke", he pointed out the obvious. "Don't you think you've had had enough for one evening?" he continued, his voice a bit softer as he reached out to stroke the man's hair briefly, forgetting for a brief moment they were not alone. "Absolutely not!" Hawke grinned, "Especially when I'm sitting next to the most handsome man in the room!....Besides me." Hawke grinned widely, taking another deep swig of a drink "You're definitely had enough", Fenris retorted with a small smile and shook his head, taking a sip of his own drink. "I see not even all the alcohol in the bar is enough to diminish your confidence..." "Oh it increases his everything." Aveline replied to the situation distastefully, sipping her drink far more measuredly. "Everything?" Fenris asked and arched his brow, looking at Hawke thoughtfully. "At any rate, I'm out", he suddenly said and revealed his cards. "Oh baby!" Hawke replied, suddenly hugging at Fenris, "I'll win for you." he grinned "My hero..." Fenris retorted dryly, though despite his sarcasm, leaning into the hug. "But even more than victory, I'd appreciate it if you just finished the game quickly. It's a long walk back to Hightown, and I think you need to get into the bed", he muttered more quietly. "Oh come on do you have to always spoil the fun?" Isabela asked, grinning as Hawke leaned on Fenris with a complete lack of subtlety, her eyes dancing mischeviously between the pair, only recently reunited. "The last time Hawke was this drunk, we were attacked by a gang", Fenris pointed out, before leaning to whisper into Hawke's ear. "And who says the only way of having fun is playing Wicked Grace?" Hawke's eyes went wide and he grinned. "On second thoughts....maybe my delicate flower is right...I'm pretty tired...and we all know Varric has won this round." He chuckled, as Fenris narrowed his eyes and took a hold of Hawke's scruff. "Your what?" he asked, his voice dangeously low. "What part of me exactly is delicate?" "Your pretty eeeeyyeeess" Hawke grinned, to which Isabela choked a laugh into her drink. "Definitely drunk", Fenris sighed and finished his drink, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks. "Shall we then?" Hawke just nodded, making puppy dog eyes at Fenris before he stood and sketched the most elaborate bow he could without falling over, although he almost did, leaning heavily on the warrior beside him. "Adieu, Adieu, parting is such sweet sorrow! Later guys!" he grinned. "You'll see them tomorrow, Hawke", Fenris pointed out, though did make his own farwells to the group as well before helping Hawke out of the tavern. "Perhaps I should just drop you on youe uncle's place, that is closer", he said teasingly. "NnnooooOOOOOooooo!" Hawke whined miserably "Why not? Didn't you say you were tired?" Fenris continued to tease Hawke, but then kissed the man's jaw softly. "Mmmm...You don't wanna take me back to Gammy-Wammy's..." Hawke pouted, eyes dramatically widened. "No, I don't", Fenris replied, starting to walk towards the Hightown. "But I do want to get you into a bed." "Oh I'll bet you do." Hawke grinned, to which Fenris quickly rolled his eyes. "To sleep, Hawke", Fenris huffed. "I don't think you'd be up for much more in your current state." "I resent that remark!" Hawke declared as the ascended the stairs out of lowtown to the square, now empty and cool for the time of night. "You won't probably even remember it in the morning..." Fenris muttered, looking around the empty square. "I resent that remark too." he pouted as they went through the streets, nearing both their homes. "I'm sure you do, Hawke", Fenris replied with a small, fond smile. "You should come home with me." Hawke grinned "I will, but only to make sure you actually find your bed", Fenris retorted. "Aww come on....don't be a spoil sport!" Hawke teased, grinning lecherously. "I'm not, I worry about you", Fenris said quietlly. "Oh..." Hawke faltered as they reached the door to his Estate "See? You can barely stand", Fenris sighed, wrapping his arms around Hawke's to support him. Grumbling good naturedly Hawke wrapped his arm over the elf's shoulders as they made their way inside, the Dog making a gentle woof at their return Fenris reached out and petted the dog briefly, hoping the animal would be smart enough not to start barking. He doubted Hawke's neighbours would appreciate that. "Are you able to get upstairs, or should I just leave you on the couch?" Fenris asked. Hawke suddenly looped his arms around Fenris' neck, hugging the man tightly. "I worry about you too..." he mumbled suddenly, and without context. "Why? I didn't drink nearly as much as you, that's obvious", Fenris frowned. "I worry about you always." Hawke told him, and at that, Fenris was quiet for a moment, looking at Hawke with an unreadable expression. "You don't have to worry about me", he finally said with a soft voice. "I do....I want to." Hawke told him. There was no sarcasm, and even the smell of alcohol couldnt detract from how much he obviously meant what he was saying, "We... should get you in bed", Fenris said quietly and turned his head away as he felt his cheeks blush, his heart starting to beat a bit faster. "Fen...I care about you. You..." he trailed off, seeing Fenris's tension. "And I care about you, amatus,” came the reply, “but I am capable of taking care of myself", Fenris pointed out gently, turning to look at Hawke. "Sorry..." Hawke mumbled lamely, loosening his grip on the other man before dropping his arms all together. The Dog whined up at him and Hawke glowered. "No that would not help." he replied tartly to the animal, who scoffed at his owner and lay his head back down onto his paws. Fenris tried to keep his expression neutral, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes, already missing Hawke's arm around him. "You don't need to be sorry", he said quietly. "I care about you so much....I thought you'd never come back..." Hawke muttered suddenly. "Hawke..." Fenris started, stroking the man's arm briefly. "If you want to talk about it again... we should wait until you are sober..." Hawke pouted but he nodded grumpily, staggering slightly towards the stairs. If Fenris didn’t want to talk, then he wouldn’t. "Hawke..." Fenris started, but suddenly didn't know what to say. "Will... you be alright?" Hawke looked back at Fenris and his eyes seemed heavy, tired with years as well as weariness. "I hope so..." he chuckled weakly "Hawke... is there something the matter? Something you haven't told us, told me?" Fenris asked hesitantly. "I’m...I’m tired Fen. I just...I missed you so much." He finished lamely "Is that really all?" Fenris inquired, moving hesitantly closer to Hawke. "I wanted you back." he continued, peeling back layers of worry to his lover. "We've been through this", Fenris sighed, leaning against the handrail. "I thought you had forgiven me." "I have!...but...maker I missed you..." Hawke smiled, feeling in his voice and tears stuck in his eyes. "And here you are...in my house." "Of course. I will always be here if you need me Hawke",Fenris said what he hoped was reassuring tone, smiling slightly. "Stay." Hawke suddenly said, almost interrupting. "You mean, over night?" Fenris asked, his eyes widening a little. "Please..." Hawke murmured. Or forever...stay always... he thought, though didn’t say it...not yet. "I... suppose I could stay. But I seriously suggest you go to sleep instead of getting other ideas." "I just want you with me." Hawke replied, hands raised in surrender. "I can do that", Fenris nodded, smiling a bit more brightly. Suddenly Hawke sighed letting out a breath he didnt know he'd been holding as he took Fenris' gauntleted hand in his before there could be a change of heart, leading him upstairs. Fenris looked down at their joined hands, feeling his heart beat against his chest. "Thank you, Hawke", he said quietly. Hawke raised an eyebrow, looking at Fenris over his shoulder as he opened the door to the bedroom Instead of clarifying, Fenris merely stepped into the room and took out his sword, placing it to rest against the wall. Hawke smiled moving back and beginning to strip off his armour. "Want me to help you get undressed?" Hawke asked with a wink "If that is your wish", Fenris chuckled as he started to remove his gauntlets.*If?* Hawke thought to himself, almost chuckling. He was already topless and came over to Fenris, taking his hand into both of his, and slowly beginning to unbuckle the mans gauntlet. Fenris stopped what he was doing, letting Hawke to remove his gauntlets instead. "I see you're very effecient in removing your clothes", he noted jokingly to the dark haired mage, who chuuckled in answer. "I can be. Or I can do it slowly..." he dropped one gauntlet to the floor and took his other hand. "Really appreciate it..." he smirked, eyes running over Fenris’ skin. "As do I..." Fenris murmured, running his free hand down Hawke's chest. Hawke hummed lightly as he unbuckled Fenris' chest plate too, smiling with a warm expression beneath the flickering shadows of the fire place. Fenris reached out to take the other man’s belt off, running his finger over Hawke's family crest. "Hmmm" Hawke let out a shaky breath that he couldn’t help, allowing Fenris to reach around his back, sliding his hands up the elfs tanned arms as he did. Fenris shivered slightly as Hawke touched the markings that twisted up his arms, leaning closer to the man and pressing their lips together into a gentle kiss. "Fenris..." Hawke murmured between their lips as he cupped the warrior's cheeks in his hands, kissing him before leading him over to the bed. "I won't wake up with you gone, will I?" he asked. Fenris let out a heavy sigh at the question, looking at Hawke sadly. "I'm sorry... I should never have left. If I hadn't been such a coward..." he muttered, ashamed. "Just say you wont go now." Hawke half-begged...for the reassurance of them both. "I won't. As long as you’ll have me, I won't leave." "You'll be here a pretty long time" Hawke chuckled, smiling with relief as he drew them both under the covers. "Perhaps I don't mind that", Fenris retorted quietly, reaching out to stroke Hawke's cheek. "Good." Hawke muttered, pulling the man close and resting his head on Fenris's, planting a kiss on the elfs white hair as Fenris relaxed and closed his eyes, starting to nuzzle Hawke. "You are the only person in this world I belong to willingly", the former slave murmured fondly. "And you the only man more handsome than me." Hawke chuckled, unable to resist the comment. "I highly doubt that", Fenris retorted with amused tone. Hawke chuckled too, kissing his forehead again, and pulling him closer, tangled in sheets and limbs together. "I love you, Hawke", Fenris murmured sleepily, his voice barely audible. Hawke's eyes shot open again for a moment, then he let them slowly slide shut as a tear rolled down his cheek, unseen. "I love you too." Fenris didn't open his eyes, but his smile widened as he pressed himself more firmly against Hawke’s body, as the two knotted their legs together in sleep.

[discord-of-laughter]

100 IMPORTANT CHARACTER QUESTIONS: Damian

Thank you so much @myriad-ocs / @myriadimagines for tagging me!!! 💛 

PART 1: THE BASICS

1.      What is your full name?

Damian. I was found wandering the streets close to an orphanage when I was still too young to know my last name… and I reject the last names of my foster parents. So, all there is, is Damian… no middle name, no last name, no birth certificate or birthday.

2.      Where and when were you born?

I suppose I might have answered that already. It’s possible to assume that I might be around 30 years old… but the day I usually celebrate my birthday on is the one I was brought to the orphanage because I don’t know the true year, month or day I was born at.

3.      Who are/were your parents? (Know their names, occupations, personalities, etc.)

I wonder… but then again, I don’t want to know either. It feels better not to be sure that they were the disappointment I expect.

My foster parents on the other hand… I don’t want anyone to remember their names or to associate them with me. They were scum… leeches… they could cash some money with me, could use me for bait and sympathy… I was a cheap help and bait with big, sad eyes.

They sent me to lure well-meaning people into dark streets… a well-placed hit over the head… sometimes a few kicks too if they felt like it… that’s what they did. Fed themselves on the willingness to help of others… and their wallets. Nearly exclusively themselves though.

I don’t want to know if they had an occupation aside of it or a personality… or family… I don’t want to know anything and all I know is already too much.  

4.      Do you have any siblings? What are/were they like?

I don’t know… maybe. For a few days way back, I felt like I had a brother for a bit more than a week… but that was nothing and means very little… but seeing who I am, my condition, my personality and all. I can only hope that no, I don’t have siblings.

5.      Where do you live now, and with whom? Describe the place and the person/people.

I live alone. It’s a small apartment. Nothing fancy but at least towards the yard so it’s kind of quiet. One room for pretty much everything and a bathroom. A big window in the main room, the heater in front of it… I can sit on it while blowing smoke into the cold morning air. It isn’t too rundown. Most of the neighbours work hard. Lots of people from different places I usually avoid most of them in the hallway. But there are three of them I think of a bit differently. One of them sometimes makes me breakfast… and the harsh detective lady let’s me crash on her sofa when things are too shitty.

I have a bed, a sink, a fridge, a microwave, a toaster, a sorry excuse for a wardrobe and a small table for everything… those are the most important things… it’s often kind of darkish in my apartment but I don’t care… it’s good for sleeping in… and cheep enough for someone who earns his money like I do.

6.      What is your occupation?

I’m a… musician? I’d like to be a musician and a singer… I beg for gigs at small pubs… but it barely pays for anything… I’m not shy to take any help that is offered to me… pride is overrated. And I have a bit of money at the bank from a previous job… or was it a job? Because I am definitely skilled and talented in the only thing my foster parents taught me.

7.      Write a full physical description of yourself. You might want to consider factors such as: height, weight, race, hair and eye colour, style of dress, and any tattoos, scars, or distinguishing marks.

Really? I don’t own a bathroom scales… so whatever. Sometimes I forget to eat, sometimes I’m too drunk to eat… sometimes I gorge myself… I’m comparably lean I think… not much physical activity and a generally considered “unhealthy lifestyle” with little sun might lead to that. And my ashen skin. I suppose there might be a hint of olive under the greyish pale of it but I’m not sure. My race is up for debate as well… something Mediterranean Caucasian probably, generally considered white. Short, black hair, blue eyes… dark rings under my eyes, thin lips but still enough for a sweet kiss. I’m not especially tall either but hadn’t had a chance to get to know my height for a while… and I suppose I forgot about it if I ever knew it.

I like to dress casually, jeans, a t-shirt, sometimes a shirt. Usually combined with sneakers, nothing fancy. A small leathery bracelet on my right arm, on the left a silvery bracelet providing info to medical care personal if needed. I have a bunch of scares… none too big, absolutely none too interesting. I never fought in a war in- or outside the country. I never had a notable medical procedure done to me but accidents, impulsive and reckless behaviour happen… and foster parents.

I don’t have a tattoo either, just a burn scar on my left side… if you have to identify me that is the only thing to go for because otherwise I’m plain, uninteresting. But apparently despite all and my heart condition still interesting enough to attract attention once in a while. Oh… and I have a mole on my left hand. Slightly below where my thumb and my palm connect. A small dark brown dot you can only feel but not see. And a few freckles between my left ear, my hairline and my neck… look closer…. closer… well hello love, are you trying to seduce me? Because if you keep breathing on my neck it will work.

8.      To which social class do you belong?

Lower class probably… maybe not yet… I honestly don’t care as long as I’m alive, getting by and there is music you might as well say I’m scum class and I would just give you the finger.

9.      Do you have any allergies, diseases, or other physical weaknesses?

It’s not an allergy but an intolerance they say when a big violet lump forms on my skin when a wasp stings me… but that doesn’t happen too often. I’m usually too afraid and gentle with them… but it’s a hassle when it happens.

And I do have a heart condition… there is a name for it but let me explain it simply instead so that we can move on. My heart more or less beats irregularly, sometimes it stops. It already did two times so far and I’m still here, so that’s the good news. The bad news is that to fix even a part of it costs money – a lot of money. That I obviously don’t have, so I’ll probably live and die with this ol’heart of mine. No excessive physical exercise or it might stop… and so on and so on… all you need to know is that the pump is kind of broken but there still is a lot space for you and some others and a lot of love left. But better don’t go for the deal because death is my eternal companion always peering at me from a distance and waiting for it to happen… wondering if three times really is the charm?

10.  Are you right- or left-handed?

Left-handed.

11.  What does your voice sound like?

Very rough and raspy… kind of lowish I suppose but less when I speak than when I sing.

Here… how about you listen to this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Oo-FlLQ6Gls

12.  What words and/or phrases do you use very frequently?

I honestly never though about that. Stuff with a double meaning maybe? Sweet, nice and honeyed phrases to charm someone. Excuse me… maybe? -ish stuff? Stay away… urgh I really don’t know who the hell even cares about that enough to notice it?

13.  What do you have in your pockets?

Keys with a bottle opener attached to it, lighter, cigarettes, comb, mints, some spare money and a pretty old and worn phone I probably had for 5+ years.

14.  Do you have any quirks, strange mannerisms, annoying habits, or other defining characteristics?

Baby, I’m a walking collecting point for annoying habits. Smoking, drinking, lying, at least two times so far dying. Flirting with women I know are out of my league. Diverting tactics when someone is about to actually get close to me because suddenly all I can think about is… how much it might hurt them if I just die then and there… and I want to die alone… I don’t want anybody to cry because of me… does that count as well?

Other defining characteristics… I can talk myself in and out of nearly everything. When nervous I like to rub one of my bracelets between my thumb and index finger… I put them on before leaving the house because they are my shackles keeping the person I am inside to allow a more society friendly mask to take its place… don’t call me if Trish Talk is on… though I suppose that is kind of obsolete… and don’t expect me to pick up before noon either.

Is hating hospitals a quirk? I have such a hard time standing even entering one… I don’t know something about them just makes me feel death’s hand on my shoulder press down… not really but you get what I mean… right?

 PART 2: GROWING UP

15.  How would you describe your childhood in general?

Wanna take a wild guess? Shitty.

16.  What is your earliest memory?

The cold and mud on my feet… the cold and mud everywhere while I wander dark streets… everything is damp, and the lights are so bright. Dark, dark, light, dark, dark, light… nobody on the street… cold wind howling through the empty streets… a dog barks somewhere.

There is just fragments and feelings left… though. Not the whole picture… it ends there. I don’t remember how I made it to the orphanage… the next thing I remember is hot water in a shower… in an otherwise cold bathroom. And an oldish woman trying to scrub the mud off me… the brush hurt…

The earliest complete memory is from a few days later… singing to the blind and afraid boy until he stopped crying… all while he listened to my heartbeat… going on until he fell asleep. I felt safe and warm… it was so long ago.  

17.  How much schooling have you had?

I suppose I have no kind of degree at all. Sometimes I think it’s a wonder that I can read and write… and know enough math to con people. I don’t really know what kind of education or schooling I received before that night of my first fragmented memory.

The nuns taught me a bit afterwards… but from the moment on I went into my foster parents care that was over. At first, I was still sent to school sporadically, but they soon gave up on that too… and claimed they home-schooled me… claimed being the important word here. Because nothing like that ever really happened. I learned a thing or two from TV shows though… and taught myself to play guitar eventually.

18.  Did you enjoy school?

I don’t think so. Not the few months in my foster parent’s care at least… I enjoyed being taught by the nuns though… but before that… I wish I knew.

19.  Where did you learn most of your skills and other abilities?

From them… I did learn stuff on the streets or from TV or because I did my best to teach myself… but most of what I’m able to do… most of what I’m good at… I learned from them and their example… how to lie, steal, hurt, deceive, cheat, defraud, fool and con. But I think I might have just always had a talent to use my words precisely and as my weapon of choice.  

20.  While growing up, did you have any role models? If so, describe them.

I had anti-role models if that counts. People I knew I never wanted to be like… but I never felt compelled to follow the path of some hero either. Or wanting to be like someone I saw on TV or on the streets. I always just wanted to be me… a better me… but that was kind of stupid too I’d say.

21.  While growing up, how did you get along with the other members of your family?

I hate you… and you should know by now… I got along with those people outsiders would call my family by lowering my head and gaze, keeping my head down and saying nothing that could distract them from their victim or TV show… and before that… who knows and after that… I haven’t had a family since then… and likely never will have one.

22.  As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?

I don’t know… someone not like them? Someone not like me? Someone who does the right thing and helps people maybe? Or makes them happy? A musician possibly… or a singer… not like them at the very least.

23.  As a child, what were your favourite activities?

I loved singing… I loved just being able to go outside without being bait… but I also liked the drives to other places before… work. I loved watching TV and when I got the chance to get some sweets to hide in the park and eat them all… music… just listening to new music in the shops that allowed it on and on and on… I suppose I never was very much of an active child and that kept my heart going comparably smoothly for a bunch of years. I also loved to sit outside on the fire escape ladder late at night… watching both the stars and humans… but that isn’t especially active as well.

24.  As a child, what kinds of personality traits did you display?

I… don’t know… and I don’t think I care very much… more kindness probably because I felt compelled to comfort Matt back then. But they made sure to knock that out of me… to make me quiet and angry and dreading when they actually took interest into me… which may be one of the reasons I feel so much safer when I know someone won’t actually take interest into me… I suppose before that I was kind of an intelligent child, sympathetic, compassionate… wanting to help maybe? Not too shy either I suppose… but that seems like nothing, but a thin veil of memories left from a past life.

25.  As a child, were you popular? Who were your friends, and what were they like?

Maybe I could have been popular. I kind of felt like I was during the time in the orphanage… but I don’t think those kids were really my friends… except for Matt. And then after he was gone… I don’t know I think I did withdraw myself a bit… and before that could change again there were my foster parents and I did not get to see many kids anymore and honestly, I didn’t want to either… I didn’t want them to learn anything about what was going on… or worse their parents might have ended up being victims of them… I couldn’t risk that.

I suppose that was when I was over and done with being popular… what a shame, especially now when I look back with the guitar in my hand trying to beg for a job or being able to perform at the next bar.

And Matt… Matt was deeply hurt, stubborn, clever, determined… and very, very afraid and weak when I met him… I wanted him to feel better and to be there for him. Because he could be so nice and caring… and he was the only one who knew about my heart before even I did.  

26.  When and with whom was your first kiss?

Some girl… I don’t even remember her name. Not even her hair colour. People place so much value on their first kiss… but I don’t know it was nothing but good fun at best. I think she giggled and her mother nearly had a meltdown – something like this.  

27.  Are you a virgin? If not, when and with whom did you lose your virginity?

No and probably and probably some girl I walked home after meeting her at the bar or wherever… she offered me a coffee… probably… the details are a bit fussy. I just remember making her little sister breakfast the next morning before sneaking out of the house to not get caught by her parents.

28.  Describe any influences in your past that led you to do the things you do today.

You are asking for a long list. All my life lead to this for better or worse and if I tell you of every account that brought me closer to here we’ll still be here tomorrow. Mostly I think I influenced myself… the few people I ever cared about did… losing them did… and my overall shitty childhood. And probably meeting you! Can we move on now?

 PART 3: PAST INFLUENCES

29.  What do you consider the most important event of your life so far?

Dying… probably three or more times up until now though I only remember two times. If you let me fall in love with you I might finally be able to change that though… how about it?

30.  Who has had the most influence on you?

Our kind and benevolent saviour in the sky! Or you know… like the people who messed up my childhood… like… I did tell you how many times before now?

Can I ask you something? How important is the past to you? Do you think it is all that defines us? Then what am I to you? Because very obviously it doesn’t matter to you what I did yesterday or today… or how much I tried… because at some point someone had the most influence on me and that is what you are going to ask about! Maybe… just maybe people like Matt, Jess, Bo and the others haven’t had the MOST INFLUENCE on me. But sometimes quality is still worth more than quantity. But I doubt someone who asks 101 questions in one go would understand.

31.  What do you consider your greatest achievement?

Not dying and staying dead yet?

32.  What is your greatest regret?

Not dying yet! No, scratch that. Allowing people close enough again so that my death would hurt them. Because I am a shitty human being like that.

33.  What is the most evil thing you have ever done?

You heard my life story, you tell me. But I think throwing the flowers meant for a very much injured friend in the thrash can because I couldn’t stand hospitals ranges pretty high… right after luring people to be robbed, beaten up and sometimes left to die of course… but you know that’s one of the things I usually did before breakfast though I’m not sure that counts!

34.  Do you have a criminal record of any kind?

Yes – go and request inspection if you want to know more. But know all my friends are well enough aware of it.

35.  When was the time you were the most frightened?

What is fear even? Maybe when I woke up, mud all over, cold and damp, in a place I didn’t know, with no memories and no one to turn to… I think I have never been more frightened than the night my life began… or the part I remember faintly at least.

36.  What is the most embarrassing thing ever to happen to you?

Who knows… I probably have enough drunken slip ups to fill a book. But losing to Jess after challenging her to drink probably is on top of the list. The next thing I remember is being held under the cold spray of water from the shower half-naked… barely kept upright by Malcolm and Bose because they were afraid that I’m about to die of alcohol intoxication… but at least they have never seen Jess so wasted either, so there is a bit of pride about all of this as well.

37.  If you could change one thing from your past, what would it be, and why?

I don’t know… maybe to get hit by a car the first night I remember before reaching the orphanage would be a good change to make? Or to run away during the first days of foster care? Honestly there are a thousand things I would consider.

But in the end, I just want the two of them to be alive. Both of them… because she is the only person I ever met who understands… and he… he’s…

38.  What is your best memory?

It was such a random morning actually… blowing smoke into the cold air outside while the warmth from the heater keeps me warm… there is so much fog and everything is quite… probably a Sunday and holiday… going over to one of my neighbours and having breakfast with him… getting the sign right when asking him to hand me the sugar. Going for a little walk outside and to smoke a cigarette while he goes for a run… talking to another neighbour there… meeting up again later to just sit on Jess’ sofa and listening to music while nothing else happens… nothing… a good day.  

39.  What is your worst memory?

…dying?

 PART 4: BELIEFS & OPINIONS

40.  Are you basically optimistic or pessimistic?

Neither. I suppose I’m just a -mistic person. Expect… but not only the good or only the bad makes life less surprising and less disappointing.

41.  What is your greatest fear?

What is fear even? It is to leave or to be left in pain – emotional, physical, whatever. So… pain.

42.  What are your religious views?

If there is a god, we will never know, and he probably doesn’t care.

43.  What are your political views?

That something is going very wrong right now and no one really wants to change anything for the poor and huddled masses as long as it keeps them from being part of it.

44.  What are your views on sex?

I miss it. The nicest thing two consenting adults can do to and for each other… and nobody’s business but their own.

45.  Are you able to kill? Under what circumstances do you find killing to be acceptable or unacceptable?

Maybe… but I’m better at dying. And that depends… there is no absolute in something like taking or sparring a life.

46.  In your opinion, what is the most evil thing any human being could do?

Risking the life of hundreds and thousands of innocent people and their children for money and getting away with it… genocide, slavery, sex trafficking of children. Honestly, it’s hard to choose the ultimate evil. Especially when some individuals might just come up with a new most evil thing any minute of any day.

47.  Do you believe in the existence of soul mates and/or true love?

Do you believe in the existence of fairies, dragons and spinning gold from straw my sweet summer child? See… neither do I.

48.  What do you believe makes a successful life?

How should I know? Obviously I suck at it. But maybe staying true to what you believe in would be a good starting point? And hopefully it is the right time and place for it and the world agrees instead of making you feel guilty… no I honestly don’t know what makes a successful life. You tell me, I apparently need any advice on it I can get.  

49.  How honest are you about your thoughts and feelings (i.e. do you hide your true self from others, and in what way)?

Hahahaha… you have no idea.

50.  Do you have any biases or prejudices?

Who doesn’t?

51.  Is there anything you absolutely refuse to do under any circumstances? Why do you refuse to do it?

Give me the right circumstances or reasons and I’d do anything…

52.  Who or what, if anything, would you die for (or otherwise go to extremes for)?

Considering I did already die for nothing at least twice. Any reason would be a good one… or at least a better one.

 PART 5: RELATIONSHIPS W/OTHERS

53.  In general, how do you treat others (politely, rudely, by keeping them at a distance, etc.)? Does your treatment of them change depending on how well you know them, and if so, how?

Trying to keep them at a distance – failing too often in the end. But I don’t think it’s possible to generalise how I treat others… people I don’t know or want to buy groceries from… professional I guess. It’s different for friends of course… but I have a hard time to really… let someone in on things. And whenever I notice too much that I already know them well… that we might be close. I might as well feel the need to get some distance between us… I don’t know I just… I just don’t want anyone to be sad when I’m gone. So for them to not care seems like the best option, even though I suck at keeping to it.

54.  Who is the most important person in your life, and why?

That is… embarrassing. Matt probably… okay? Because he… knew another me, a better me. And in a way inspires me to be… better…

55.  Who is the person you respect the most, and why?

Respect the most? No one… respect at all, a bunch. Nobody is perfect though, quite to the contrary so there is no such thing as respecting someone the most for me.

56.  Who are your friends? Do you have a best friend? Describe these people.

I hope there is nothing like a best friend… maybe Matt comes closest. But it would be hard to tell because, there are also Jess and Bo. And to a bit of a lesser extend Malcolm and Trish. They are a stubborn bunch, but they mean well – all of them in fact. And they bear with me.

57.  Do you have a spouse or significant other? If so, describe this person.

No, there is no such person and it’s probably for the best.

58.  Have you ever been in love? If so, describe what happened.

I’d like to think so. But I think the person I would fall for deserves to be given a heart that… is better than mine in pretty much every aspect with the potential to make them happy instead of ensuring tragedy.

59.  What do you look for in a potential lover?

That they only stay for one night?

Actually, I don’t know. Someone better than me, probably out of my league… inspiring me to be a better person maybe? I know it’s not fair to expect anyone to settle for less or settle for me though.

60.  How close are you to your family?

How familist to assume everybody has one!

61.  Have you started your own family? If so, describe them. If not, do you want to? Why or why not?

No and no. Because.

62.  Who would you turn to if you were in desperate need of help?

Jessica probably. She’s seen some shit herself and I guess she would ask the least amount of questions which is probably good. Besides it isn’t like she would close the door in my face. She pretends to be tough but refusing someone really desperate for help isn’t really like her.

63.  Do you trust anyone to protect you? Who, and why?

Matt, Jess and their friends. And the friends of their friends too, all of those ladies are probably better at kicking ass than I’ll ever be. Pretty much everybody actually. I’m not picky if I need someone to protect me. Bo and Malcolm too, I mean I trust them well enough when I’m drunk. But it all depends on the situation, usually there is not really anything I need to be protected from I’d say.  

64.  If you died or went missing, who would miss you?

Hopefully no one…

65.  Who is the person you despise the most, and why?

Narrowing it down to a single person isn’t possible. But there is a bunch of people over whose death I wouldn’t shed a tear.

66.  Do you tend to argue with people, or avoid conflict?

I don’t avoid conflict. If they fucked up they are better ready to hear me tell them so. But I won’t go back and forth with someone forever. Honestly argue isn’t even the right word… I’m not interested in their point if what they did sucked big times.

67.  Do you tend to take on leadership roles in social situations?

Nah, why should I? Social situations aren’t my thing anyway. But if it’s needed to pull of something I might as well. During a normal day there is no reason for me to take on any kind of leadership anyway.

68.  Do you like interacting with large groups of people? Why or why not?

It’s okay. Sometimes it’s needed, and large groups allow for a certain anonymity which can be nice if you want to avoid attentions. I just really don’t care about large groups of people in general.

69.  Do you care what others think of you?

Maybe. But more or less only what a few others think. The whole world in general? Or society? Only if it interferes with or obstructs with what my goal is.

 PART 6: LIKES & DISLIKES

70.  What is/are your favourite hobbies and pastimes?

Music, preferably listening to it with others. Singing. Smoking. Having a drink with a friend or without. The sport course I go to.  

71.  What is your most treasured possession?

My guitar maybe? Actually… probably a memento from my childhood. Nothing special though but from a time where things were… different.

72.  What is your favourite colour?

Red.

73.  What is your favourite food?

Coffee and anything made from liquorice – especially liquor. Oh, and the fried eggs Bo sometimes makes when I’m really badly hungover. I wonder what his secret is.

74.  What, if anything, do you like to read?

Something that makes me feel better? I really liked The Old Man and the Sea by Hemingway for some reasons… probably because there is no bad person in the story and humans are just that – humans.  

75.  What is your idea of good entertainment (consider music, movies, art, etc.)?

Movies with friends that aren’t depressing. Even better if they are so bad you can totally slander them. Getting to know knew songs a friend likes. Even or especially when I hate them at first. And I like to listen to the radio because the more trivial shows calm me down.

76.  Do you smoke, drink, or use drugs? If so, why? Do you want to quit?

Smoke – yes. Drink – yes. Do drugs – no, never even once in my life. And I can see the surprise on your face, no use in hiding it. It’s because I want to and no, I don’t want to quit and I won’t quit even if you would like me to – thank you very much.

77.  How do you spend a typical Saturday night?

At a bar with a drink or a completely cosy with a bottle while hanging with friends… sometimes alone to relax and forget… just me the radio and a bottle.

78.  What makes you laugh?

Dry jokes, understatements and sarcasm.

79.  What, if anything, shocks or offends you?

When someone mocks people’s needs or what they believe in it offends me. The same is true for people mocking my friends for whatever reason.  

80.  What would you do if you had insomnia and had to find something to do to amuse yourself?

Music… or fight the insomnia with alcohol, which I kind of do already and with quite the success as I want to remark.

81.  How do you deal with stress?

Not well. More often then not with a drink or just curling up on the sofa of a friend.

82.  Are you spontaneous, or do you always need to have a plan?

Spontaneous mostly – making plans on the long run doesn’t really make sense for someone like me.

83.  What are your pet peeves?

When people I’m on the phone with don’t pay attention but do something else. But also, when people I’m with are constantly on the phone. I guess I just like to have the people’s attention I’m with while I’m with them. And when someone tries to tell me all the things I should probably change… that and to be woken up much too early.

 PART 7: SELF IMAGES & OTHER

84.  Describe the routine of a normal day for you. How do you feel when this routine is disrupted?

Sleeping in and sleeping it off. On good days finding something to eat before even getting dressed. On not so good days getting decently enough dressed to walk over to Bo’s apartment and hope he has mercy on me and some breakfast left over.

Then getting some work done, going for a walk, practicing or annoying another one of the unlucky people I call friends. Maybe going to my sport course depending on the day of the week. Then getting home again, listening to the radio and sometimes taking a nap before I leave for the evening again.

Hopefully for a gig in some pub or something alike or to help out a friend or acquaintance with work or whatever else. Getting a few drinks in the end before heading home. With some luck actually making it home and into my own bed… rinse and repeat with smoke breaks in between.

I don’t care about the routine being disrupted most of the time. Sometimes I might even be glad about it… mostly though the routine is fine enough… safe enough.  

85.  What is your greatest strength as a person?

I have nothing to lose and I’m able to get people to trust me easily enough. Or in other words I’m a very good liar, which allows me to clear the path for others or cover their back. Also I’m available most of the time if they should need me at all.

86.  What is your greatest weakness?

My questionable life expectancy? Not letting people close? All my bad habits? Take your pick.

87.  If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

Everything.

88.  Are you generally introverted or extroverted?

Ambivert.

89.  Are you generally organized or messy?

Messy. I leave the cleaning up for tomorrow… if I actually make it that far.

90.  Name three things you consider yourself to be very good at, and three things you consider yourself to be very bad at.

Singing, lying, alcohol tolerance.  

Sports, being a good person, getting my life together.

91.  Do you like yourself?

Good question… I suppose so, or I wouldn’t be so scared of actually suddenly being gone one day.

92.  What are your reasons for being a hero? Are your real reasons for doing this different than the ones you tell people in public? (If so, detail both sets of reasons…)

I’m not a hero. I’m not even a sidekick. I just… … … want that the hero knows he is needed. That I support him, and his work is appreciated. I think even a hero needs to know that. I don’t think someone like me can suddenly make a change the way they do. But I… I don’t know, I want them to know I have or try to have their back. And my only reason for it is… that I feel like it. No secret second reason. I just think it’s the right thing to do.

93.  What goal do you most want to accomplish in your lifetime?

Surviving for as long as I can would be good and bad enough. But if I can manage to make people I don’t know smile? While I’m here and keep them from crying when I’m suddenly gone I think that would be enough.

94.  Where do you see yourself in 5 years?

Alive hopefully. And otherwise in the same place, with the same people at least… maybe with more people to share my love for music with would be nice. But I’m not picky. And no hope means no danger.

95.  If you could choose, how would you want to die?

Alone in a place where they don’t find me for years to come. Until no one remembers me anymore… so that no one would cry.

96.  If you knew you were going to die in 24 hours, name three things you would do in the time you had left.

Every morning is like knowing and not knowing that it might be that last day. But if I knew that I only had 24 hours left… I’d tell everyone that I’m done with them, that I’m done with this city and that I’ll start some kind of business far away from here… and then leave the city to find that place where they don’t find me for years to come. While everyone goes on with their life thinking I’m an asshole but alive in some far away place, doing my own thing.

97.  What is the one thing for which you would most like to be remembered after your death?

I… don’t know. I don’t want them to remember me but probably being drunk. I hope it’s that, it seems like… such a fair thing to remember me for.

98.  What three words best describe your personality?

Walking, manipulative disaster.

99.   What three words would others probably use to describe you?

That drunk guy.

  100.   If you could, what advice would you, the player, give to your character? (You might even want to speak as if he or she were sitting right here in front of you, and use proper tone so he or she might heed your advice…):

Carry on. Ily Damian. Surprisingly enough many people do. Because you are more honest than you admit. While you try to do the right thing, you are just bad at it… but it doesn’t have to stay that way. There is more hope than you can see right now… and while you are right “no hope means no danger” maybe you need to step out of your comfort zone a bit more… because hope as well as no hope also means so much more.

[drawn-2-art]

Inspired by the wonderful Avian AU created by @keyade

I’m not much of a writer, sorry

Victor had been walking Makkachin past the shelter for a few days now, intending to finally commit. The people tailing him had not gone unnoticed, and he suspected it wouldn’t be too long before someone came to confirm their suspicions on his race. With a deep breath, he walked through the automatic doors, and placed the large bags of the dogs belongings on the counter. The receptionist blinked, and then smiled.

“Hello, can I help you?” She asked. Victor swallowed, and forced his own features into his usual, relaxed smile. There would be time for tears later.

“Due to unforeseen circumstances, I don’t believe I will be able to continue to care for my dog, this is Makkachin by the way.” Either because he heard his name, or wanted the biscuits inside the bag, Makkachin jumped up so his large front paws were on the counter, startling the poor receptionist. “He’s very friendly, you’ll have no problems re-homing him.”

“If you wish to donate him, it may take a few weeks to organise all the paper work...” The receptionist started, but Victor just shook his head

“I’m sorry, I’d like to preferably organise all of this today. It’s very important that this is done as quickly as possible.”

“I’m not sure that will be possible...” She started, then her eyes widened in surprise as Victor started to get out his wallet.

“I’ll compensate for the inconvenience, but it has to be today.” He began removing notes from his wallet, as well as a debit card

“Stop please!” The receptionist cried reaching out to try and put the notes back “We appreciate donations and I will try my best, but you can’t just pay for this to go quickly!”

Victor rummaged around inside the bag on the counter and pulled out a clear folder. “All his recent vet and vaccination information is here, as well as his care instructions.” He explained

“Thank you...” The receptionist said, taking the folder and flicking through. “That will certainly save time...”

 As they walked down the corridor, Victor tried to ignore the cages on either side. All of the dogs just looked so sad and lonely, most simply just lying on the floor. Makkachin was bounding along cluelessly, stopping to try and sniff his new surroundings. It was a strain to keep his smile in place now, this was starting to feel incredibly real. Leaving Makkachin in a cage like that...It was almost to awful to think about. The receptionist was slowing now, and stopped in front of one of the cages. She paused as she reached to unlock it

“If I may ask, why are you unable to care for him anymore?” She said. The man was clearly very upset about these circumstances, but money hadn’t seemed to be the issue. The dog seemed well behaved if slightly excitable. No behaviour problems except occasional food theft had been announced.

“Oh that’s...” Victor started, his smile becoming more forced “Well...I have to move and my new accommodation is not really...appropriate...For pets. It seemed better to find him a new home but I don’t have time before the move...” He looked down, meeting Makkachin’s loving brown eyes, gazing at him as though he was the most wonderful person in the world. Of course, Makkachin looked at everyone like that but the idea of never seeing that gaze again... “He’d probably like a home with children. I live alone so he never had a chance to play with them much as a puppy. Also, if they’ll let him share their bed, that would be ideal. He gets lonely at night.”

“We can’t make any guarantees...” She started, and Victor shook his head

“Just wishful thinking. He’ll settle in anywhere eventually. He’s a good dog...”Victor said, almost choking on that last line. She nodded and unlocked the door, Makkachin bounding in. Victor let go of the lead so he could properly give everything a good look. He stepped in and crouched down, not even wobbling as the 50 pound poodle charged into him. Victor buried his face in his curly head.

“I’m going to miss you.” He whispered, a few tears escaping. He had wanted to keep smiling until he got home. Makkachin’s wagging tail slowed, and he was looking with concern now instead of adoration. He let out a low whine, and licked Victor’s cheek. “I’ll think of you every day, okay boy?” Victor continued “Try not to forget me. I’m sorry.”

The hug felt as though it lasted an eternity, and yet no time at all. Eventually, Victor decided it was time to pull away. Unbuckling and removing the collar, he quickly brushed his sleeve against his cheeks and straightened himself up.

“I think that is the goodbye’s out of the way.” Victor said, his smile forced back in place. The receptionist nodded. As Victor went to leave, Makkachin began to follow.

“No, myesto.” He said firmly, not quite meeting his dogs eyes. He tried to ignore the low whine as Makkachin sat, staring at the closing door. As Victor turned to leave, the barking started. What began concerned, polite barks became scared and loud, mixed with howls as Victor walked down the corridor. He could still hear them, even once the door had shut.  His head was filled with depressed howls of his abandoned companion. The receptionist awkwardly reached as though to pat his shoulder hen thought better of it and retracted her hand.

“We’ll find him a good home, I promise” She said “He’s so handsome and well behaved; he’ll find a lovely family very quickly.”

“I know, thank you.” Victor said, and he gave her a final smile before leaving.

 The apartment was almost unbearable without Makkachin. The dog bed, toys and bowls were all gone. There was no leash hanging next to his coat, no face exited to see him. Victor didn’t have time to waste, sitting down and feeling lonely though. Looking through his wardrobe, he chose the dark grey suit usually reserved for high profile cases, and the black tie he wore for funerals. The combination wasn’t the most flattering but mourning wear seemed appropriate. His apartment was almost empty of belongings beyond the necessities as it was, so trying to decide what to pack wasn’t too difficult. Pyjamas, some more comfortable clothing, a few photos. There was no guarantee they would come for him tonight, but they would come. It had probably been foolish to pretend to be human so publically, he found himself thinking. To be in the spotlight, with such controversial opinions, they were bound to become suspicious eventually. After weeks of being tailed and observed, Victor was almost ready for it to be other. Knowing that they knew, it was suffocating waiting for them to act.

He flinched when there was a loud banging at his front door. Standing up and taking a deep breath, he picked up his small suitcase with one hand. He’d open that door with a smile...He’d be civilised. He’d show that being an Avian did not make him less human.

That was the intention, but as soon as he began to open the door, it was forcefully wrenched open and 4 men dressed entirely in black stormed in. He let out half a cry as a fist connected with his throat, and his case clattered onto the floor.  Before he had time to catch his breath, or even think about whether he should fight or flee they were forcing him onto the floor.

Victor tried to resist instinctively as his suit’s jacket was ripped from his body. There was a tearing sound as his wings erupted from his back and destroyed his shirt. This momentarily dislodged his captors but there wasn’t room in the narrow entranceway for Victor to use his wings for escape and it was not long before a collar was locked around his neck. Cuffs were fastened around his ankles and wrists. A chain was looped between the collar and wrist cuffs, then he was forcefully wrenched to his feet.

“My case...” He tried to choke out, just the chain was yanked forcing him through the front door. A few neighbours had timidly cracked open their front doors to see the source of the noise. A few had phones ready to call the police about the violent entrance. All the doors latches were quickly slid into place though when they saw the state of their neighbour. The handsome friendly lawyer, half naked and in chains. Trying not to cry with a large set of wings adorning his back.

For many of the people in the apartment building, it was their first time seeing an Avian in person. They never expected it to look quite so helpless. Despite the wings, it was nearly impossible to see the sad creature as anything other than the neighbour they had all trusted for so many years. Victor tried to smile reassuringly at a child who had shoved in front of its mother in order to pear through the cracks. The mother gasped and the door slammed shut, and the chain aggressively pulled making him almost trip.

“You can cut the act now.” One of the men guarding him mumbled “We all know what you are.”

“I’m sorry.” Victor said quietly, and bowed his head. When they finally reached the ground floor, and he was forced to climb into the back of a van, was when the tears started falling. He wasn’t Victor Nikiforov anymore, not to these people. He was simply another dangerous Avian.

    <�c_PW

[nedsecondline]

Every Heroine Needs A Side-Kick. In Night-Time Bangalore, Mine Is My Dog

By Bhanu Sridharan

Photo courtesy Roger Price via graffiticreator.org

Tube was a semi-street dog when he followed us home. It was 2012. My friends and I had just graduated with a masters in wildlife biology. There were six of us, four women and two men—including my boyfriend—and we were renting two flats in a small building in an obscure area called Sir MV Layout in North Bangalore. My poor parents were just getting over the fact that I didn’t move back home after two years in a hostel, and that I was sharing a house with both men and women when I had to explain the presence of a dog in the house.

We were walking home after a party (in er… high spirits) and at some point noticed this dog walking back with us. Tube slept on our verandah that night but over the next few weeks, he moved into the house one room at a time, until somehow he was sleeping on my bed and kicking me off it. We were both just entering adulthood and neither of us wanted to get our own food, but as you can imagine only one of us won that battle. While the humans learnt to cook, pay bills and be biologists, Tube learnt to bark and sharpen his teeth on our footwear and debit cards. Eventually, he found himself a huge cow bone. He was fiercely protective of that bovine remain—nobody else could touch it. That’s when I realised that we may never agree on politics.

Other than that, Tube was an easy dog to live with. He slept all day on a sofa in the living room and at night after dinner, joined his pack of friends outside. He would usually be gone from 10 in the night to 4 or 5 in the morning. He would knock on the door (with his paw, in case you were wondering) in the wee hours of the morning and cry outside my bedroom window until I let him in. This went on for four years.

As must happen, my friends moved out one by one. I married my boyfriend and he promptly left the country to pursue a PhD, while I decided to write about wildlife rather than study them. As soon as I had made this decision, I decided to procrastinate by focusing on other things, like moving houses. So I shifted to a new place, a whole two km away, in an area called Sahakarnagar. After four years of living with an assortment of friends and my husband, suddenly it was just woman and dog. We turned up on this beautiful street with a jackfruit tree, a pongamia tree and two huge raintrees. Tube wasn’t impressed.

I could see his point—dogs aren’t monkeys. He felt marooned in this new place; he had lost his territory and pack. And somehow I had chosen the only street in Bangalore with no other dogs. Actually there was one dog; an elderly one-eyed dog who did not like Tube. In fact most dogs didn’t like Tube. So he couldn’t just go out freely. That’s when it dawned on me that I would now have to take him out for walks every day. Something I had never done before.

On our first day out for a walk, Tube tried to mark my neighbours’ car and he has never given up. You can forget about having friendly neighbours after that. So we walked around looking for suitable car-free, dog-friendly streets where he could roam freely. It was during these explorations that I discovered a lively living neighbourhood. Sahakarnagar and its surrounding areas are relatively new suburbs that have exploded in value thanks to Bangalore airport. A surprising number of trees soften the huge houses that have sprung up here. I would drag my dog through these streets every morning, evening and night. Unlike old Bangalore neighbourhoods such as Basavanagudi or Rajajinagar, the streets are not filled with gulmohars, tabubias and copperpods. The most common trees here are pongamia, Singapore cherry and a mix of raintrees, bahunias and coconut trees. Occasionally, a jackfruit or mango tree would pop up.

A red whiskered bulbul. Photo courtesy Bhanu Sridharan

Most people would walk their dog on a wide road parallel to a railway tack. This railway track runs from north Bangalore to the Yeshwanthpur railway station in the west. For those who say walking your dog is great exercise, pardon me while I scoff at you. Tube sees no point in running, unless we are chasing or being chased by a dog. Walking him involved a lot of standing around, while he sniffed every single pile of dog poop and rubbish. Because I didn’t want to look down at what caught his attention, I started looking up, at the Singapore cherry trees lining this road. These trees were constantly flowering and filled with fruits and birds. In the morning, purple-rumped sunbirds drank nectar from the flowers with their long bills. Pale-billed flowerpeckers, tiny enough to fit in the palm of my hand, would eat the fruits, sharing space with squirrels. In the evenings, rose-ringed parakeets, barbets, jungle crows and jungle mynas would settle on the trees, loudly announcing their presence.

But Tube was soon bored of this bourgeois life, of orderly walking and sharing defecation spots with large pedigree dogs. These quiet streets held no appeal for him. I think he also found me inadequate. I could never walk as fast as him, slow down at the right bush or clear off when a friendly dog approached. We were also frequently disagreeing about which tree to stop next to—Tube had no time for my bird-watching. I realised that these outings would be most fun if we could both do our own thing. That’s when we crossed the railway track.

Tube eating lantana. Photo courtesy Bhanu Sridharan

The railway track is a long gash, separating the affluent neighbourhoods of Sahakarnagar from the empty spaces that will soon be affluent neighbourhoods in Rajiv Gandhi Nagar. Across the railway track we discovered a land divided into 30×40 sites. Some of them were being turned into huge houses, but there were plenty of empty plots filled with bushes of castor, calotropes and lantana. Grasses and reeds almost made the area feel like a grassland. Early mornings here were filled with migrant labourers defecating in the open, before building massive bathrooms for the area’s future residents. But Tube loved these parts—here he could walk free of the leash. He sniffed and marked bushes, sand piles laid out for construction, and garbage strewn on the side of the road. Occasionally, he would flush out an ashy prinia hiding in the lantana. Parakeets, jungle mynas, wagtails and black drongos would pass us by. Satisfied with our spot, we came here every morning and evening. But at night I stuck to the railway track road, close to my house.

It’s not because I felt unsafe. But thanks to his past life, Tube became alert and excited after 9 pm. He would want to join every howling dog and investigate every passing pack. Sometimes, he would just sit on a pavement and watch the empty street. It is a huge conflict of interest, because I wanted to sleep at night and wake up in the morning. By sticking to the boring street, I tried to convince him that there wasn’t much happening at night.

Others did worry for my safety at that hour. One of my neighbours (who attempted to lecture me about having boys in my house at 11 in the night) tried to dissuade me from walking Tube after 9 in the night. When I refused to take his advice, he offered to wait up for me to come back into the building every night. He gave up when his wife reminded him that he had to wake up early and take his children to school. Passing policemen have asked me why I’m out so late. There are criminal elements at night they tell me. Sometimes, I tell them to catch the criminals and leave me alone; on more peaceful nights though, I just shrug and point to the dog, who will move things along by growling. Elderly men occasionally warned me that there are snakes about at this time. So I try to tell them that I am a trained wildlife biologist and know what to do, only to realise that I had better leave because my dog is peeing on their car.

Women rarely show concern for my safety at night. Admittedly, there aren’t too many around at night, but occasionally they will turn out in groups of two and three enjoying the night air or taking in a brisk after-dinner walk. They never look surprised or worried by the sight of me roaming alone. Occasionally, people catch me staring at an electric pole, with my mouth hanging open and Tube desperately tugging at the leash. I would be watching a pair of spotted owlets or a beautiful barn owl. Of course by the time I could show them the birds, they would have flown away, leaving me pointing at nothing. People always walk away quickly when this happens.

Winter is my favourite season as a birdwatcher. Birds escaping the harsh cold weather of the Himalayas and Europe come down to peninsular India. Warblers, flycatchers, eagles and other birds of prey make the long journey down to warmer parts, where I imagine them settling down, relaxing and fattening up. There are certain birds that mark the arrival of winter. Down south, I think it must be the Blyth’s reed warbler. By October, I began hearing a familiar chak chak from the lantana bushes. It is a small dull-looking brown bird—but here all the way from places like Kazakhstan and Mongolia to spend winter amidst garbage and rubble and Tube’s ungainly scrambling. By late December, other visitors had come down. Hundreds of rosy starlings occupied every inch of an electric transformer, wires, bushes, trees and the ground. They are really pretty birds with a pale pink body and a jet black head and wings. A flock of starlings are called a murmuration. I understood why when I saw about 300 of them arrive together, weaving through the sky in synchrony one evening. By the next morning, they had split up into smaller groups of about 30 to 60. Up close, they are a crude noisy bunch, squawking loudly and surely quarrelling with their cousins, the mynas.

Photo courtesy Ron Knight via Wikimedia Commons

Further up, near some new apartments is a huge fig tree. Most trees don’t fruit in winter, but figs do. A fruiting fig tree will provide for almost everybody. Barbets, parakeets, rosy starlings, spotted doves, mynas, crows and pigeons flock to these trees. A golden oriole, another winter visitor, has settled down here. This area is right next to the GKVK campus, a huge agricultural research space. GKVK has a mix of agricultural fields, orchards and tiny patches of the original scrub forest from which Bangalore has been carved out. Birds passing by this area on their way into the campus were a frequent sight. A common kestrel (a small falcon), a rufous treepie (a member of the crow family) and grey hornbills occasionally pass by.

Beside the fig tree is a plot of land fenced by a huge concrete wall—we both always peek in there. Tube has to climb a pile of rocks and jump onto the wall to look, but he makes the effort. I don’t think he think he finds this exercise particularly rewarding, but we would find three green bee-eaters sitting in there, waiting for the sun to come up, so they could snatch up little insects that flew about then. Occasionally, a startled Indian robin would rush past us. This is usually the end of the walk. We would never go beyond this spot because there was a sweet dog that Tube hated. I wasn’t allowed to be friendly with any dogs he didn’t like. It’s oppressive, but I kept a stiff upper lip and turned back

Towards the end of February, tragedy struck. Tube was badly hurt on one of our walks and we were house-bound for three weeks. We only ventured out for him to pee and shit or visit the vet. The rest of the time was spent cleaning his injuries and finding new ways to feed him his medicines. During his worst days, he spent all day in my bathroom, maybe because it was cool and dark. I would sit with him there, trying to comfort him while he whimpered continuously in pain. I spent hours there: reading, watching movies and American comedy shows mocking Donald Trump, on my laptop. I love my dog, but I felt my sanity ebbing during those times. After about 10 days, he started leaving the bathroom for short periods and sitting under the dining table. So I set up my laptop there and tried to start working on that writing thing. It was then that I was really grateful for the trees in my neighbourhood. From my second floor window, adjacent the dining table, I had lovely views of the canopy of a kadamba tree, a coconut tree and a jumble of bahunia, gulmohar and badam behind my house. From the kitchen, I could look into the canopy of the raintree that stands in the front. I had forgotten until then, that a pair of black kites had a nest in there. I had seen the female sitting in the nest for almost two months, but I was never very interested.

A black kite and it’s nest. Photo courtesy Bhanu Sridharan.

Black kites are basically one of the most common birds you will see in Bangalore and in most Indian cities. The female was standing in the nest and looking down at something. I grabbed my binoculars and looked through the metal grille surrounding my kitchen utility. A furry chick stood uncertainly in the nest, staring at the mother. Its eyes and head looked huge on its tiny body, while the curved beak typical of a bird of prey looked almost comical—nothing remotely threatening about its appearance. Soon, through my binoculars, I spot another smaller chick. Watching them every day became a ritual. Sometimes mid-morning, the female would leave them alone for a bit and the larger older chick would peek out over the rim of the nest looking forlorn. In the afternoon, the mother would feed the hungry chicks, while they screamed for more. A black kite sounds like a horse whinnying; the chicks sound exactly the same but higher-pitched. Black kites will often nest on water tanks on top of tall buildings. But watching them on a tree like that, reminded me that they did have some wilderness in them.

As March rolled by, things started looking up. Tube slowly started doing much better. He left the bathroom much more, he didn’t cry as much and let me clean his wounds. We were walking as far as the railway track road again; he even tried to cross the track a couple of times. As the weather turned warmer, other birds started breeding or at least courting. Birds were pairing up and males were calling all around, marking territory and advertising to females. Male pied bushchats—small black birds common in dry open areas of peninsular India—were singing loudly from their perches on electric wires.

At the kadamba tree outside my dining table office, tailorbirds were calling loudly and a pair of jungle crows had built a nest. Crows are aggressively protective of their nest. While the female cawed loudly from the nest each day, the male would chase away every bird, big or small. Black kites, bulbuls, pigeons and barbets would suddenly find themselves being unceremoniously escorted off the tree by a large (or depending on the size of the victim, small) black figure. But they reserved a special anger for the koels, and understandably so. Koels are brood parasites. They lay eggs in the nests of other birds like crows, who then raise the koel chicks mistaking them for their own. Outside my window, a male koel would call out loudly from a nearby pongamia tree, in what seemed to be a move to distract, while the female sneaked up on the nest in the adjacent kadamaba tree. It never seemed to work. The crows would always find the female skulking on their tree and chase her and the male for good measure. This happened every day and then one afternoon I noticed both the crows left the nest unattended. Right on cue, a female koel flew onto the lower-most branch of the tree. Taking a circuitous route, she hopped cautiously to the nest right at the top and peeked in. She then looked around, jumped in and was out within a minute. I excitedly called my husband, who is much better with the birds. He confirmed that it was enough time for a koel to lay an egg. Eventually, the poor unsuspecting crows returned to their nest. In about two more weeks, I hope to find out if there is a little koel chick being fed by these jungle crows.

Blyth’s reed warbler. Photo courtesy Shankar70 via Wikimedia Commons

Today, Tube decides he has had enough of these short stints on the boring railway track road. He drags me towards the railway crossing, looking defiant. I relent and we cross. For the first time in days, he looks truly happy. He is not off the leash; I don’t have the courage to do that. But he marks every lantana bush and looks longingly at garbage piles, while I try to explain the risk of infection. I am not looking forward to birdwatching though. It is getting hot and I expect all the winter migrants would have left. I feel a pang thinking that I didn’t see them off. But then I hear the familiar chak chak. The Blyth’s reed warbler is still here, enjoying the warm but not too hot sun. And at the fig tree, the fruits have gone but a few rosy starlings are still there. They are diminished in number but the ones that remain are in good spirits, looking happy to be here. Just like my silly dog.

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