#wardens are a treat to draw and i am *so* happy

[archersxartxblog]

I saw your input to the discourse and I wholeheartedly agree with your view.

The Antis in the fandom are the most disgusting crybullies I've ever come across in any fandom... and I have been in a lot of them for a long time... What's also disgusting is that these same people turn around and claim how open, friendly and positive this fandom is...

Well turns out it's only that way if you stick to what is considered the norm by anti's...

I really don't like the ship at all... but I can make a difference between fiction and reality and treat people the same. Heck, I have a sibling that has been into "proship" and I never made a big deal out of it... It's still my sibling at the end of the day. And they also can seperate fiction from reality. Something that has become rare nowadays... but people desperately need

They claim they are the good ones but do bully and harrass anyone with a different opinion to the point of them deleting their accounts or stepping away from fandom (lets hope nothing worse) (also seen this happen several times on dead-bird-site with japanese fans) smh

sorry to go into this little rant... you don't have to publish this. You're even free to delete and block me. I just need that out of my system without them witchhunting me off the web....

(also love your content. You have a cute and wholesome artstyle! Keep up the good work!)

It's insane, honestly.

I've seen people getting harassed, doxed, death threats, people have had to get staff involved in some cases. People have been called blankshippers because of commissions they've done (fun fact if a blankshipper threw a bunch of cash at me I'd draw something too). Heck, just today it's been proven that these antis sit in the blankshipping tag looking for styles of creatators they can call out. Iike really.

And this is just the stuff I've seen on my dash.

And this isn't just a shipping problem, any miss step can get people to come at you, it seems. Remember that drawing challenges that happened around September/October, that person just wanted to do something fun, and a single prompt got them harassed and allegedly doxed.

I've really wanted to interact more with this Fandom, I wanted to join a discord and maybe make some friends, but the fear of some miss step I might make, someone not liking me and looking for a reason to chase me away keeps me from really interacting.

I've actually only had one bad interaction with one blankshippers, and from what I've seen, that person is just a giant dick. Otherwise, they have been quite respectful.

This is honestly the less friendly Fandom I've been in. There are some great people here, some really great artist. But there are also a lot of people looking for a reason to tear down anyone for whatever reason.

Don't worry about the rant, I totally get it. I'm hoping I'm too small to get a mob coming after me. Might loose a bunch of followers, but it is what it is. I will be turning off anon after this, just to discourage anyone coming at me even more.

But for the record, I'm not a blankshipper, I do not like or engage in the ship, I don't like it, but that's okay because I don't look at that blankshipping tag (cause I am not a weirdo looking at stuff I don't like)

I would prefer blankshippers interact with my work respectfully, to not ship ingo and Emmet in regards to my Warden’s Twins fic due to the underage nature of the twins in that setting.

But I would expect this from anyone.

(And thank you, it makes me really happy to hear you like my style. I'm probably going to be posting more oc stuff for a bit, I just kind of want to step away from the submas Fandom for a bit, I'll still be posting Caleb and Fjord stuff, bit I'll still post ingo and Emmet every so often, maybe even some dojoshipping stuff when the mood strikes me.)

[commandermorgan]

Commission of the Windy Marcher himself, Halevune Mahariel for @dreadfutures ! 💙

[cullenakingirog]

So I was part of a secret santa. I put in the options as the three mains from one of my non main worldstate. AKA The We Are Family one cause it has my Human Mage Warden Tereysa Amell, Warrior Hawke, Johannotus Hawke and Human Mage Inquisitor, Nikolaus Hawke.

Now here’s the thing, I did not expect my girl, my sweetheart baby darling Tereysa to be getting the love here and I am just so happy and not over this cute artwork by @themoralsupport?? Like she’s my Teaganmancing sweetheart that doesn’t mind the Circle but knows it’s not for everyone and then she meets charming Teagan Guerrin and lord this drawing just fits how I imagine them tbh?? Sweet and soft with Teagan treating her like a queen though hi when they married Alistair was very confused on what to call her now cause is she his aunt now???

Needless to say, I am never getting over this anytime soon. This just makes me smile so much diufvsxyuf

[crqstalite]

2021's Summary of Art

We certainly live in interesting times. I think that reflects pretty well in my art this year, considering the batty amount of changes my style went through as the year went on. Unfortunately, only have eleven instead of twelve drawings this year because of unforeseen circumstances. However, I did significantly more art than I did last year to the point I think I can safely say I did more than writing, and perhaps more than the last two years combined. Oops. Explanations under the cut + 2020 here + a blank version here!

January! My Holiday Harbinger gift for the lovely @faejilly of their Ella Shepard! This one was the more adventurous of the two I did, mostly because of the overlay I put on top of a handful of constellations. I genuinely can't remember which ones they are, I'm not really into astrology. I am very glad that they liked it though!

February! I believe the first time I ever did real ship art? And subsequently, the first time I drew Kaidan this year. It's a little flat and I don't love it as much as I did before, but I'm still pretty pleased with how I figured out the posing for both muses. Never been a fan of drawing kisses, but never been a fan of drawing two muses actually interacting either. The second muse is my AJ Shepard.

March! My darling Svenja Tabris in her Warden armor and looking her best while up to trouble in the Brecilian forest. I discovered the splatter brush and never really looked back on this one, but the first time I ever drew her. Also, the second reason I despise drawing Warden armor. I hate the blue part of it because its so tedious to color, shade and highlight.

April! During one of my sketch giveaways for a handful of mutuals, Raya Auren (who belongs to the lovely @sheyshen). As you can see, probably the first time I learned how to actually draw noses properly. Was not super great with nostrils beforehand, but we figured it out! Loved drawing her features as well, which gave me a foray into something new.

May! My darling Citlali Velasquez (who I almost drew every month this year), just posing somewhere out on the Citadel in an outfit I mashed together from pictures on Pinterest. Hands down my most fashionable muse, second only to Brione because women's pantsuits are hot. Got to play around with a sheer shirt and leather (which I still haven't learned to texture properly) in this picture, as well as levels of lighting.

June! A birthday gift for my mutual @sheyshen of their Kara! I believe I did a photo of her the year prior, so its nice to see the improvement from then, including the radical change in style between then and now. Do go and read the fic she's part of, Koren's Breaking The Bad News.

July! A giveaway reward for the lovely @pigeontheoneandonly of their Nathaly Shepard. It was a real treat to work on her, and I believe one of the few reasons I haven't drawn the N7 armor since then. There's quite the demand for detail on it, but I loved drawing it for them! Do go and read the fic she's part of, Pigeon's Nathaly Shepard series.

August! The second time I did ship art this year, and one I'm actually still really happy with -- of my Citlali Velasquez and Joker. I have many soft spots for them <3 Not actually sure what sparked drawing this one, but the reason I will never draw the crew outfit from three again unless paid. It is unnecessarily complicated and I hate it.

September! So quick "fun" fact, I was in my school's competitive marching band from about August to December this year. TL;DR, I'll literally never do it again because the schedule is destructive and a little dehumanizing tbh. Either way, no work done this month because of a lack of time.

October! Darling Citlali...again. She was my second or third foray into a more painterly style that didn't rely at all on the blender tool, and I loved working with all her color values. Super wacky that I just don't work for a month and then start slapping colors down again in a complete 180 of a style. Thankfully she still looks like herself here, after all I tend to draw her and then she looks like a completely different character because I've morphed into a different artist.

November! Reyna Hawke, finally visualized into all her glory. Finally, I collected all six stones -- I mean all of my main Dragon Age protags. November was literally the first time I had them all drawn in a partially consistent style (Marzie's was October last year I believe), and after her redesign. The first time I've drawn her post-DA2 armor as well, but during the Here Lies the Abyss mission.

December! Can't tag them or name their character just yet (Holiday Harbinger's gifting doesn't open until January 😞), but I adored working on this piece so much!! It's a pose I tend not to like using since the muse's face isn't head on, but working with their character and being able to give them art I'm really proud of was the best part of working on this!!

[insanityisimplied]

Appraisalshipping 02 💞

• When I started shipping them: I believe it was due to fanart that I randomly stumbled into? I remember finding the ship cute and decided to search for more content of it and was shocked at how little there was, so I thought "Hey maybe I could produce some content and find community in this" and I'm so glad I did! • My thoughts: The relationship dynamics are top tier. Whether it be disaster gays, bastard gays, hell even when theyre in denial, its fun to take in. They get along surprisingly well and writing and drawing it warms my heart • What makes me happy about them: In canon, them interacting positively is so nice. I usually ship pairs where the characters have a indecisive relationship at best in canon, so this is a nice change of pace! The fanon interpretation of them helping each other at any opportunity is so nice, it gives me life. Thats probably obvious due to what I've written for Time Well Spent lol • What makes me sad about them: Lack of interaction in canon, Volo leaving Hisui meaning there isn't even a chance for canon interaction... it makes me upset :( Adaman go get your bf and comfort him please. • Things done in fanfic that annoys me: Honestly the only thing I've found that bothers me is nsfw. Even then that's just because I am not comfortable with nsfw, so its a petty complaint really. People are allowed to write nsfw, I'm not the fun police, I'll just be over here dying on the asexual headcanon hill for the both of them in the meantime. • Things I look for in fanfic: Fluff and angst. Seeing them being lovey-dovey or doing loving gestures for each other is always a treat. For angst... I'd even read a fic tagged with major character death, seeing these two being ripped apart by the world hurts good. • My wishlist: Honestly? I want a single piece of canon art that hints at the pairing. It becoming canon would be AMAZING but a little tease sending the whole fandom into chaos sounds fun. • Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: Adaman and Melli maybe...? I can't really see either of them being with anyone else but at the same time I'd be fine with anything, as long as its legal. (And not weird... if Adaman/Mai or Cogita/Volo shippers exist, please don't thanks.) • My happily ever after for them: Volo stays with Adaman and they openly love each other and support one another. Them going on adventures into the wild as dates, the other wardens supporting their relationship, just happy gay moments basically. I may be a sucker for angst but I want a happy ending for them so bad.

[crashingmeteorz]

zuko brings a lot to the table when he joins the gaang, especially the return of the ba sing se bimbos (jinjetsongko)

credit as always to @azenkii!

when they all eventually join team avatar, in my mind, it still happens after the Betrayal by zuko. this is obviously very Angsty and Intense, but that’s a post for another day.

song and her mother, through a series of Strange Events, make their way into the fire nation in disguise and end up in a village that the gaang passes through, just before the invasion. she and katara recognize each other, and song asks to go with them to help at the invasion.

at first, song positively Freaks Out at meeting aang and also at the fact that he’s ALIVE. katara eventually calms her down enough to ask, “are you comfortable going to the front lines of the invasion, song? we need healers, but this will get very dangerous.”

“oh, i think i’ll be alright,” song says mischeviously.

jin ends up at the boiling rock for trying (and failing, but not without a good hard fight) to free mushi/iroh. how does she end up in the crystal catacombs? idk yet, but she was there, and boy was she PISSED at lee. azula took her away before zuko had much of a chance to argue - he’s ashamed to say he didn’t try very hard.

of course, she meets suki, and has her own fan girl moment. she also develops a very quick crush. i mean, yeah, she’s the leader of the kyoshi warriors so of course sokka was obsessed but after meeting suki jin’s like how could you NOT fall in love.

jet, who has been brainwashed by the dai li, goes with them to the fire nation. he’s assigned to dangerous reconnaissance missions that azula plans, which she ensures that zuko finds out about, since she’s doing it purely as a way to test his loyalty. it works - because this, along with zuko’s other realizations in book three, is what makes him fully denounce the fire nation. when he leaves to teach aang, he drags jet along with him.

this trip is less than easy, because jet, who is, again, brainwashed, bounces between attempting to murder zuko for his betrayal, and treating zuko as his ward to be protected.

at some point on the trip, after an extreme mood swing, during which they both almost die, they’re breathing heavily on either end of the war balloon, and zuko says “you’re giving me emotional whiplash.”

“OH AM I, LEE?” roars jet, before collapsing with exhaustion. it’s a very song-like comment, and in spite of everything zuko really truly hopes his friends will forgive him one day.

when zuko first shows up to greet the gaang, jet is Not Well, and so zuko leaves him at the campsite. he also knows things between the gaang and jet did not end on good terms, so zuko figures it’s no big loss.

the second time, when zuko attacks combustion man, jet follows him on a Murderous Rampage, until he realizes zuko’s trying to help aang and the others, and then he joins zuko’s side.

“fucking prince, fucking avatar, I WAS A FREEDOM FIGHTER! I DID IMPORTANT THINGS, LIKE TERRORISM! NOW IM GONNA DIE, FOR WHAT? THE PEOPLE WHO KILLED MY GANG’S VIBES AND THIS TWIG-SIZED ROYAL MORON?” jet screams as he uses his hooks to hoist himself and zuko back up the cliff.

(of course, his anger mostly melts away when the others exit the temple after the danger passes, and song is there holding the duke’s hand. it’s the first happy thing that has happened to him in so long.)

song regards zuko/lee as a mixed bag because, you know, the obvious Bad Stuff, but also he saved jet? and he’s training the avatar now?

so she decides on the middle ground - forgiveness, paired with Never Letting Him Live Anything Down.

she hugs him, and tells him she missed him, and he’s so overcome with relief he almost cries, and then she says very loudly for the whole group to hear: “i forgive you, but i expect a herd of ostrich horses after the war.”

“song-“ he says desperately.

“you know. compensation.” she says.

“i only took the one-“

“zuko!” says aang, scandalized at the idea that zuko had personally affronted one his new friends even though it’s the smallest of his crimes.

“was it just one? i must’ve forgotten,” song says sweetly. “sure hope i haven’t been brainwashed. oh! like someone we know-“

“that wasn’t even my fault!” says zuko.

yeah, katara LOVES song.

when sokka and zuko go to the boiling rock, jet tries to go with them because he’s convinced zuko will betray sokka, but he’s still kind of out of it, and they try to convince him to stay back. he gets loud, threatening to tell everyone what they’re up to if he doesn’t get to come along, when a hand holding a rag comes up around his mouth and he passes out.

“it’s my turn to watch him tonight and i’m too tired to reason with him,” says song, dragging jet under his armpits back to the camp. “just go do whatever stupid risky thing you’re going to do.”

“that’s it?” zuko asks curiously. “no speech about how we shouldn’t go?”

“oh, i’m sorry, am i your mother?” song asks innocently. “i personally haven’t seen my mother since before the invasion, you know, the one we had to plan because SOMEONE’S nation waged a war-“

“okay, okay, i get it!” zuko snaps, and they go.

when they return with jin, however, song drops all the sarcasm and jet stops being so hostile. this is partially because they’re so grateful he brought her back, but mostly because jin is definitely the Friendship Glue.

she tells them all about how their daring escape, she mentions that everyone acted according to their sexy selves (hakoda, thankfully, does NOT hear this), but especially zuko.

“honestly,” jin says, “being the one of the first prisoners to escape the boiling rock has got to be the most legendary thing anyone’s ever done. i’m going to go down in history. so many fire nation prisoners are going to be like ‘who’s that pretty girl who escaped on the gondola?’ and they’re either going to be talking about me or suki, and it’s all thanks to zuko.”

yes, they have a ba sing se bimbo reunion hug.

“guys, you will not BELIEVE what i found out at that gross prison.” jin says at the campfire that evening. “the firelord singed his eyebrows off once, and now he has to draw them on every morning. also, he gets these little flames painted on his nails at the palace spa because he thinks it makes his firebending stronger, and, like, yes, guys who paint their nails are hot, but not when they paint them to look like a four-year-old drew them.”

“literally none of that is true,” says zuko, absolutely baffled.

“oh really?” jin says, rounding on him. “because i heard it from min, who heard it from the guard who shaved her head, who heard it from the watchtower guard, who heard it from the WARDEN HIMSELF.

“yeah zuko,” says song, “do you think you know more about the firelord than the WARDEN?”

“no offense, but you’re not exactly the expert on the firelord,” says jet, grinning because He Knows.

zuko says nothing at first. then he sighs, shakes his head, and asks happily, “so, is it all the nails, or just, like, the ringfinger?”

part two of this segment coming soon!

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[gothic-safari-clown]

The Mind’s Power Over the Body

Part 27: With Friends Like These

Story summary: They only ever had each other. It had been that way since high school, ever since Elianna transferred to dreary Arlen and took Jonathan under her wing. They go separate ways for college, and when they're reunited at Arkham Asylum professionally, Elianna comes to find that they've both changed during their time separated. Can she look past the promise of danger and stay by Jonathan's side as they slide further and further into the darkness while she grapples to come to terms with the truth about herself? Can she accept what needs to be done in order to hold onto the only person who holds any meaning in her life? This is a very self-indulgent AU that draws from several different canons of the DCU and ignoring others, starting in the Batman Begins Nolanverse. This will follow the plot of the movie, although the timeline has been very slightly tweaked.

Word count: 1556

Sorry it’s been so long! I’m a full time employee again, so it’s been hard to find the time to actually sit down and work on anything. Plus, we’re getting to the end of TMPOtB! Make sure to keep an eye out for the sequel Why I Do What I Do, and I hope you enjoy!

It had been four weeks. Two since ex-warden Sharpe had disappointed them. Regular police had begun to avoid them, and they had amassed a new following of goons. Even found a semi-permanent hideout.

Though, for all of their success, Jonathan had begun to sink lower and lower into himself. In fact, more and more often, he preferred to let Scarecrow be in charge. The only sure-fire way to keep him around for more than two hours together was when more toxin needed to be made.

At first, Scarecrow had been thrilled to be in charge. He had gotten quite a kick from going on sprees, terrorizing the public, especially if it might help them find Elianna. Jonathan wanted to find her for sentimental reasons, but Scarecrow?

Scarecrow wanted her back for possessive reasons. But, if he thought about it, he supposed the history behind their motivations was the same—companionship, kindness, loyalty. Jonathan seemed to crave it, but only from her.

But the straw man felt that it was something they were entitled to after all those years of consistency from her. Oh, he cared for her wellbeing, sure, but only because no one else would give them anything. As such, no one would ever be allowed to lay a hand on her again. But, more than anything, he craved attention, and despite Jonathan's endless warnings not to give it to him, El had always satisfied that need with a strange sense of fulfillment. The world owed them something, and she was the only person who would give them anything.

She was theirs.

So, when after weeks of rampage and fearmongering had yielded no results, Scarecrow found himself in a similar stupor to Jonathan, although it affected him differently. He seemed forever bored, irritated, and volatile.

It wasn't just Jonathan and Scarecrow who were affected by Elianna's absence either. The goons that had flocked to them (some out of fear, some out of necessity, some out of ambition) had very quickly come to regret the decision. Violent outbursts were often expected, and the men had had to take measures in order to keep themselves out of the line of fire.

Regardless, it was becoming more clear day by day that the longer El remained unaccounted for, nobody would last very long.

So when one day a young blonde tentatively approached the base of operations, folder in hand, asking for "doctah Crane," claiming to have an idea for where to find the elusive woman, Axel was more than happy to tell his men to stand down and let her through.

"He's upstairs, but it ain't the doctor, so don't call him that," he advised. "I'll take you up and stay in the room with you, but you gotta just give him the file and get out." The blonde nodded, a sad look on her face. "Did you know him before?"

"Yeah. We worked together at the Asylum. We weren't friendly or nothin', but he was always polite. I was—am, friends with El. I want her back too, so I started askin' my friends from med school to keep an eye out. So when I got this, I thought the best way to get her back was to bring it here." Axel nodded.

"Alright, well let me take a look. If it doesn't look good to him, he's gonna get angry and that won't be good for any of us." The blonde nodded and handed over the folder with the file inside.

Some of the information had been redacted (for legal reasons, no doubt) but as Axel scanned the paper, he felt a weight being slowly lifted.

Patient name [REDACTED]. Female, 30 years old, red hair, green eyes. Transferred to [REDACTED] from Gotham County General. Admitted with an unknown substance present which affected brain function. Severe injuries to full body. The patient was detoxed and consented to a medically-induced coma in order to treat mild trauma to the brain.

Notes: Patient has made a swift recovery, but will likely be admitted to psych. Demonstates an unhealthy obsession with "scarecrow," which has caused multiple outbursts against personnel.

The name of whoever had provided this information had been blacked out, but it seemed likely that this information was what they had been looking for. Looking up from the file, Axel was met with big blue eyes staring up at him hopefully.

"Alright, this looks good," he sighed, and the blonde was visibly relieved. "Come on, you should be the one to give this to him," he handed back the folder and jerked his head for her to follow. "You know where she's at, right? That information was taken out." She bobbed her head, anxiously rubbing her thumb over the spine of her folder.

"Yeah, the girl that sent this to me had her place of work listed on her Facebook."

"Good."

The pair walked together through the previously abandoned building, up two flights of stairs and down a series of halls.

"Do you all live here?" The young doctor asked, gazing around the environment as they walked.

"Sort of. All of us take shifts staying in groups here to keep trespassers out. The big man," here, Axel pointed to the door at the end of the hallway as they approached, "has a place in the Narrows so that he doesn't have to stay if he doesn't want. Between the two of us, it's a much better gig when he's not around." She nodded in agreement. Based on the news reports, that was to be expected.

Reaching the door, Axel held up a finger for the woman to wait as he knocked. "Boss? There's a woman here with some information. I looked it over, I think it's her." It was silent on the other side of the door for a moment before a muffled voice told them to come in.

Axel opened the door with a pointed look at the woman, letting her enter first.

The man sitting at the desk inside certainly looked like Jonathan, but it didn't take Harley long to notice the changes in him. Jonathan always kept himself clean-shaven and carried himself with an air of uprightness. Scarecrow didn't seem to share those concerns. Stubble had been allowed to grow along his jaw, and he was slouched into his chair like he was bored.

When he caught sight of her, there was a glimmer of recognition in his eyes before a lackluster grin broke over his face. "Doctor Quinzel, I don't think we've been formally introduced." The sentence was accompanied by what was surely meant to be an intimidating chuckle. He just didn't have the energy.

"Scarecrow," she greeted, unable to help the pity that crept into her heart. "I...I guess I'll just get right down to business. I know you're looking for El, and you haven't been able to find her in the city, so I reached out to some people that I know who work in neighboring cities, and I think I found her." She stepped forward, folder outstretched for him to take.

He frowned, skeptical of the information, but took the folio anyway with a telling look at Axel: if this isn't her, you're the one to face the consequences.

But scanning the memo through narrowed eyes, his attitude slowly changed. Suddenly, there was no way that it wasn't her, and a sudden urgency took over everything as he stood.

"Where." Not a question, a demand. Harley quickly gave him the city and hospital, startled by the abrupt turnaround. "Good," seeming to briefly forget that she was even there, he turned to Axel with a sense of urgency. "Get our best boys ready, we're going now." The thug nodded and began to pull Harley out of the room before the voice stopped them again. "Harley," it barked, and the blonde's head swiveled to look at him again. "You know what's going to happen to that hospital. To your friend that works there."

"Yes, I do." She had known from the beginning. It had been so many years since she had even thought about the other woman, and they hadn't been close to begin with. To be perfectly honest, Harley wasn't even sure if she had ever liked her to begin with.

It made it easier to make this decision, although realizing that she even could make that decision had been surprising.

Scarecrow seemed to understand and went back to studying the file further, leaving the pair to leave the room, closing the door behind them.

"You did good, doc," Axel assured the blonde as they retreated down the hall. "But if it isn't her somehow..."

"I know," Harley gulped. She had seen plenty on the news of what happened to people who let Scarecrow down in this particular search.

Sensing the woman's apprehension, Axel spoke again. "I don't think you have anything to worry about. Who else could that be, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right." She nodded. "I'm gonna get outta your hair now. Good luck, all of you. bring her home, yeah?"

"You got it, doc."

With that, Harley left and Axel went about rounding up the troops. He wasn't exactly looking forward to the havoc they were about to wreck upon the unsuspecting hospital, but ultimately having El back would be best for everyone involved.

For everyone's sake, it'd better be our girl.

[goth-surana]

Hope and Hopelessness Chapter 5

Chapter 5 of 7

Main pairing: Anders/Male Hawke

Main tags: Angst with a happy ending, tranquil!Anders, cure for tranquility

Summary: After some time on the run with Hawke, Anders is caught and made tranquil. Hawke cannot bring himself to kill him, instead chasing a distant hope that there may be a cure.

Read on AO3 or below the cut

Hawke could barely sleep that night, and he was in the best bed he had slept in in a year. He was too on edge, both from being in what he considered enemy territory and from the anticipation of the next day. The inquisitor may have given them her protection, but this decision was not supported by all. Anything could still happen, especially with Cullen hanging around. Hawke still couldn’t believe Varric had neglected to mention his presence here. This inquisition may have allied with the rebel mages, but any place with an army led by Cullen wasn’t safe for any mage.

How did the inquisitor not know that? Did she just not know about what an awful man he was? Sure, maybe he changed, but Hawke could barely imagine how a man with opinions like his could have.

Anders slept soundly in the same large bed next to Hawke, not nervous at all about the next day. Because he was still incapable of being nervous. Hawke was nervous. This had to work. Hawke was so close to breaking, this hope was all that held him together.

Finally, after fits of rest here and there, the sun rose over the mountains.

Anders woke up quickly, got dressed efficiently. Hawke missed his frantic scrambling when he realized he slept in too late, even if he didn’t miss Anders beating himself up about it.

Oh Maker, he even missed that. Anything to show Anders was Anders.

In the afternoon, the Hero of Fereldan arrived. Hawke was keeping to himself in the corners of rooms with Anders, staying away from the inquisition’s inner circle.

The doors to the war room flung open and in walked Surana, confident as ever. The whole room looked up in awe, all recognizing her.

Well, everyone stared in awe except for Leliana. Instead the woman rushed forward and wrapped her arms around the smaller elf, a hug which she returned in equal measure.

Surana was still not dressed in Warden’s regalia, likely trying to keep a low profile.

Surana muttered something to Leliana before turning to address the room.

“All right, get your staring out of the way,” she grinned. “Yes, it’s me, Hero of Fereldan, slayer of the archdemon. Blah blah and all that. I’m sure you’re all quite impressive yourselves.”

The room murmured nervously, and Cassandra scowled. Cullen was looking quite purposefully away from Surana.

Surana noticed.

“Ser Cullen!” She exclaimed, walking right over to the mortified man. “Good to see you again, although I’m surprised you haven’t combusted around all those mages out there.”

“Erm,” Cullen responded sheepishly, “a lot has changed since we last met, Re- uh, Warden Commander. I am no longer the man I was.”

“I sure hope not,” Regan replied good-naturedly, patting him aggressively on the shoulder. “Although I heard you did try to annul another Circle after Kinloch. Good thing there’s no more Circles, or I’d really be worried.”

She spoke easily, but venom underlined her words. So they had a history too, it seemed.

“I realize our meeting again is… complicated,” Cullen said. “But I do hope we can be acquainted better than last we met.”

Surana dropped her smile. “Fine, I can be civil. I agree that people can change. I’m here to help Anders anyway.”

Surana turned to the rest of the group. “So where are we doing this?”

“The cells,” Casandra said. Hawke turned to her immediately.

“To protect against the danger of suddenly returning magic,” she told Hawke firmly. “We do not know what kind of destruction he might unleash. Cullen will also be present in order to nullify any magic that gets out of hand.”

“You’re bringing him back with a bloody Templar hovering over him?” Hawke tried not to yell.

“Hawke, it makes sense,” Anders said quietly from beside him. “The inquisitor explained that I will likely be quite emotional. I will be a danger to everybody.”

Hawke shook his head. “Don’t talk about yourself like that,” he muttered.

Adaar looked apologetically at them both. She had probably fought this. Surana just looked disgusted.

“Fine,” the elf said. “Let’s go then. Shouldn’t draw this out anymore than it needs to be.”

The small group made their way to the dungeons. Cassandra tried to convince Adaar not to accompany them, but she insisted. “Under my protection means I’m making sure they come to no harm,” she said. Looks like she didn’t trust this woman.

Surana kept a purposeful distance from Cullen, and gave Leliana’s hand a squeeze before she left.

It got worse before it got better. After some amount of argument it was decided that Anders would be handcuffed and chained to one of the walls. Cassandra and Cullen would not budge in their insistence, and finally Adaar relented. Hawke glowered at her, but felt no real animosity. He was just tired, tired and unwilling to treat his love like a wild animal.

In the center of the room was a bowl of shining lyrium, and Surana knelt beside it.

“One of you will have to catch me,” she told the room. “Once I put my hand in, my body will collapse. This may take some time, but I will get a spirit’s help. I am not sure if my own spirit will wish to stray this close to the waking world. She is… willful,” Surana said with some small amount of amusement, “so I may have to elicit the help of another.”

Surana grimaced, plunged her hand into the bowl of lyrium, and fell to the side.

Multiple people lunged forward to catch her falling body, but Cullen got there first. He seemed to have moved on instinct, looking almost surprised as he held the limp elf in his arms. Surana looked strangely fragile in this state, her small stature more apparent.

Cullen kept holding on, but had the look of a man about to be burned. The rest of the room waited in silence.

Minutes passed, but it felt so much longer. Hawke just kept looking at Anders, sitting quietly and waiting for his entire world to be shaken. Hawke’s chest felt tight, his head light. This was it. It would happen soon. Surana would return with a spirit and… and Anders would return to him.

Surana stirred, opened her eyes, then took a sharp intake of breath as she scrambled away from Cullen like a scared cat. There was a wild look in her eyes, but one that faded quickly into anger.

“Was he really the only one who could have caught me?” She asked haughtily, but Hawke could tell it was a haughtiness meant to cover up another emotion. Genuine panic.

Surana shook herself out of it, took a steadying breath, and looked at Hawke.

“I… I found him,” she said. Hawke’s heart nearly stopped.

“Anders? In the fade?”

“No,” she said. Her eyes welled up with tears as she spoke. “Justice. He’s… he’s been keeping an eye on me, it seems.”

“Justice is alive?” Hawke asked, shocked. He had assumed the spirit had been burnt out somehow when Anders was made tranquil.

“He’s home again,” Surana continued. “And… he’s going to return Anders to us. He also wanted to say he was sorry to both of you.”

Hawke didn’t know how to feel. Justice, sorry? That was not an emotion he associated with the spirit.

“Just…” Hawke managed to say through the lump in his throat, “just… get on with it. Bring him back.”

Surana nodded solemnly and turned back to Anders. She knelt down in front of him.

“I’m sorry I failed you before,” she told him quietly, tearfully. “But I can help you now.”

Surana’s hand glowed with what Hawke now recognized as spirit magic, and she brought her hand to the brand on Anders’ head.

The light focused on her arm, wound around them both, and for a split second Hawke swore he saw a ghostly gauntlet joining Surana in her touch.

Anders shuddered, and Hawke saw the one moment of true life in his eyes before he let out an agonized scream.

Magic burst forth from Anders, knocking Hawke and everyone else in the room to the ground.

Hawke fought against the continuing onslaught and crawled forward, determined to reach the man he loved. But before he could, all magic in the room abruptly was cut off, another palpable force replacing it in the air.

Anders collapsed face first to the ground before Hawke could reach him. Hawke pulled Anders back up, seeing a trail of blood gushing from his nose. Hawke turned furious eyes on Cullen, the source of the divine smite.

Anders curled in on himself, clearly in pain.

“Anders, Anders,” Hawke muttered, patting his face and trying to gently turn his cheek to face him. He needed to see those eyes again, to see eyes full of life.

Anders yelped and shook free of his grasp, stumbling on his knees off balance and falling again to the floor. He looked up, saw Cullen, and screamed again.

“Shh Shh,” Hawke practically begged, hovering over Anders but not sure if he could touch. “It’s okay, love it’s okay…”

Anders was shaking violently, his breathing becoming ragged. Then he seized up, clearly trying to draw in air but failing. Hawke watched helplessly, felt tears of helplessness well up in his eyes.

“Love, it’s okay, it’s okay-“

Then Hawke felt another wave of magic wash over them both, and Anders went limp. His eyes fluttered shut, and he fell asleep.

Hawke was about to get angry again, but then noticed that once he was asleep, his breathing evened out. Hawke looked up to see Surana, having just cast the spell.

“He shouldn’t wake up with us looming over him,” she said in a somewhat rough voice. “The spell had to be powerful to work, it will probably last a few hours at least.”

The room was silent.

“If he hadn’t been handcuffed,” Surana told the room angrily as she approached with soft footsteps, “he wouldn’t have broken his damn nose.”

She knelt again, and waved her hand gently above Anders’ blood-covered face as she healed him.

“Fucking barbarians,” she muttered so low that only Hawke heard. He was inclined to agree. If they hadn’t woken him in a damn cell, he might not have been so afraid-

Hawke felt his heart seize. He had looked afraid. For the first time in a year, Hawke had seen emotion on his lover’s face. Abandoning all dignity, Hawke let out a sob and hid his face in his hands. It had worked.

It had worked. Anders was back. Afraid, hurt, but… but himself. Hawke kept crying, hearing the other talk around him but paying them no attention. He couldn’t get ahold of himself, emotions he hadn’t let himself feel in a year washing over him. It was one thing to hope, it was another thing to know there was a cure, but it was entirely something else to see the cure work.

When Hawke finally looked up, there was one fewer person in the room. Cullen, thank the Maker, had left.

“He still needs to be restrained,” Cassandra said with a frown.

“Why?” Hawke demanded, incredulous. “He’s fucking asleep-“

“He will wake again, and will likely react the same. We can get him a cot to lie on, we can unbind his hands, but he will stay chained to the wall.”

Hawke practically snarled, his eyes still red from crying.

“I can handle him when he wakes up. What he needs is some fucking compassion.”

Cassandra glared at him in response. “Cullen will also be on standby in case anything goes wrong. I wouldn’t want to waste the commander’s time, but we have no other inner circle members with Templar training.”

“Give me the keys,” Adaar told Cassandra. “I will release him as soon as it is clear he is not a danger, which should be soon. I can stay with Cullen, just call us when he wakes up.”

“I’m not letting Cullen anywhere near him,” Hawke said, standing tall. “He’s had enough Templars.”

“Please,” Adaar said, looking at Hawke with imploring eyes. Then she turned to Casandra and Cullen. “I will talk to them. You two head back up stairs, return to your work. The Warden Commander said you wouldn’t be needed for at least a few hours.”

Cullen retreated quickly, almost nervously. Cassandra stayed a moment, but eventually left.

Adaar let out a sigh. “I’m sorry about that.” She sounded genuinely sorry, but Hawke wasn’t inclined to be sympathetic.

“I meant what I said,” he warned her.

“I know. I will be waiting with Cullen the whole time and we will only intervene if we hear destruction. Please, Hawke. I’m not happy about the treatment of him either, but I need to keep some peace within my inner circle. And you can have the key. I trust you to know when Anders is stable.”

Hawke listened with suspicion, but was somewhat satisfied with her suggestion. He was well aware that they were in hostile territory, that it was a blessing to have Adaar on their side at all.

“Fine. But I’m not leaving his side, not for anything until he wakes up. I know I agreed to talk to your people about Corypheus, but that can wait until I know Anders is well.”

“Of course,” Adaar replied. “And Warden, I’m afraid they will want to talk with you as well. The Wardens have been displaying strange behavior as of late…and now that you’re here I’m afraid they insist on talking with you.”

Surana rolled her eyes, but nodded. “I know. I knew this would happen if I came out of hiding…”

“I will do whatever I can to make your stay here more comfortable,” Adaar insisted, “just know that there are a lot of tensions I must handle right now. Like I said before, I need to maintain some semblance of order. I will do my best to negotiate on your behalf.”

Against his better judgement, Hawke believed her. There was something painfully earnest in her eyes.

Adaar personally brought in a set of cots, which of course she carried herself. Damn Qunari.

Hawke lifted Anders onto the cot closest to the wall and Adaar unlocked the cuffs behind his back. Of course one cuff had to stay, but this was better.

Adaar left them then, and Hawke sat with his back against the wall and sighed. Surana also stayed, sitting a few feet away.

When Adaar’s footsteps faded, Surana burst into tears.

Hawke was taken aback, and asked what was wrong out of sheer habit. It really wasn’t his business.

“I’m sorry,” Surana gasped, “I just… I shouldn’t bother you with this, I should go to Leliana… but I don’t want to fucking look at him, and if I leave he’ll be there…”

Hawke could hazard a guess who this “him” was.

“Cullen,” Hawke said solemnly.

Surana nodded. “I… I hate that man,” she said in a low voice. “I hate that he’s here, I hate that he still makes me feel…”

“Afraid?” Hawke asked, remembering her reaction earlier.

“…yeah,” Surana said with a strained voice. “I know it’s unbecoming of me, and normally I can hold my own but when I woke up he was touching me, holding me like I was his to hold…”

“Did he-“ Hawke asked, alarmed. He knew Cullen was a monster, but surely-

“No,” said Surana. “He never touched me. Not like that. But… but he wanted to.”

“That’s not much better, Surana,” Hawke said. “If he tried to assault you, then-“

“It’s not like that either,” she said quickly. “I don’t think he would have done it… not without my consent. Back when I was an apprentice, I tried not to think about the mages who were the subject of a Templar’s… attention. I always told myself it would never be me, I was too annoying and loud and… well, it was all very silly. It’s not any of their faults they’re preyed upon.”

Surana was silent for a moment. Hawke waited for her to continue. Listening to her story was better than the silence, and it sounded like she needed desperately for someone to know.

“When I returned to Kinloch Hold during the fifth blight, I found out that the whole time, he had… lusted after me. The whole time a Templar had been fantasizing about me. The whole time, if Cullen had been a worse person…”

Her voice grew quiet. “… I could have been raped. He could have gotten away with it, if he wanted. I wasn’t so invincible after all, my delusion was shattered.”

Hawke’s dull heart still felt for Surana. He knew too well how much a Templar could get away with. He heard from Anders about how all mages knew deep down that they were at the Templars’ mercy in every way.

“So….” Surana continued after taking a deep breath. “It was just bad, waking up with him touching me. Knowing he had touched me when I was unconscious. And that on top of seeing Justice again, coming here… it’s all just a lot.”

“So you’re hiding out down here for a bit to collect yourself.”

“Yep. Very brave, I know.”

“It’s not shameful,” Hawke said seriously. “I used to hide away in my room when things got bad in Kirkwall. Everyone saw the Champion, but only Anders saw me. Sometimes you just need to hide in order to go on to fight. It’s all about pacing yourself.”

Surana nodded, wiping her eyes. “I’m glad Anders has you. We don’t know each other well, but I just poured my fucking heart out to you and you just… listened. You’re a good man.”

Hawke smiled, slightly. Just knowing his Anders was waiting for him made him begin to feel like himself again. He was dependable and a good listener, he was empathetic and kind to his friends. Maybe he didn’t know Surana, but she was a friend to Anders and she needed a friend right now.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Hawke ventured, “I think Cullen shit his trousers when he first saw you.”

Surana laughed. “Yeah. I just gotta remember, I’m no longer trapped with him, he’s trapped with me. I’m the fucking Warden Commander.”

It broke Hawke’s heart a little to see a mage need to remind themselves they had power. He knew too well what was going on in Surana’s head, as he had seen Anders battle those very demons. Fear and helplessness. The feeling that suddenly everything would be taken from you when you could do nothing about it.

“Damn right,” Hawke agreed. “When Anders is better, before you leave again you’ll have to tell me stories from Amaranthine. The embarrassing ones Anders won’t tell,” Hawke finished with a conspiratorial nod.

Surana grinned. “I’ll tell you one now. It starts with a cave expedition, and ends with a very unclothed Anders…”

[atc74]

Soul to Souls - Two

Warnings: Mentions of death, wolf hunt, Sassy OC, Guilt Ridden!Dean, so many more to come

Summary: Since she was four years old, Annaleigh has seen the same boy in her dreams. For twenty-five years, she grows to love the boy that has now turned into a man. Dean Winchester just lost the only family he has ever known. The guilt drives him to work harder than ever before. He works to forget the pain, until he meets Annaleigh and she turns his world upside down. What she learns changes both of their lives forever, but what will he do when he discovers the truth? Will he accept it or run back to the only life he has ever known?

Pairing: Dean x  OC Annaleigh (evenutally)

Word Count: 1727

Beta’d by: @amanda-teaches, @katehuntington, thank you both for being my guides! Dividers by the amazingly talented @talesmaniac89.

A/N: This was my very first series I ever wrote four years ago in September 2016 and I am so happy and proud to bring this back home.

Soul to Souls Master List

All in all, it took Dean three days to track and put down the werewolf with Annaleigh’s help. Her research capabilities and knowledge of the area came in handy. He talked to the Sheriff, the Game Warden, even the folks at the local animal shelter. She knew the people here, which was helpful. He had to take her along on a couple interviews with the locals, because they wouldn’t talk to Dean, but they would talk to her. 

Annaleigh brought Dean to her friends’ comic book store, Betsie’s Best Comics. The manager there, Mandi, and her employee told them about their friend and owner Betsie, who was the first body found out by the creek. Mandi wouldn’t look at Dean, but Annaleigh got her to open up.  She told them everything, even how Betsie had left her the store. Mandi was crying, a lot, and Dean found himself growing uncomfortable. Man, Sammy is so much better with the whole emotions thing, Dean thought to himself. Emotions weren’t Dean’s deal and he found himself grateful, more than once, that Annaleigh was with him on this one. 

After they walked out of the comic book store, he looked around the main drag, feeling that familiar grumble in his stomach. “I need food,” Dean grunted, slightly irritated. 

“Here,” she said, grabbing his hand and leading him into yet another store front. This one was different. This one smelled delicious. Dean’s eyes darted around the small shop. He eyed the pastries, donuts, cakes, cookies. And there, in the last case on the left, pie. They had cherry, pumpkin, apple, blueberry, all his personal favorites. But no pecan, story of his life.

“Hey there, Annaleigh! Who’s your super hot friend?” He heard one of the girls behind the counter giggle as she wiped her flour covered hands on a towel. 

“Oh, is Anna here?” Dean heard another voice call out from somewhere, preceding another woman coming from the back. Two blondes stood behind the counter and just stared at him, eyeing him like he was one of the treats in their cases. They must have been sisters, huge matching smiles on their faces, as Annaleigh shut the door behind them. 

“Hi, girls! It has been too long since I have been in here! I forgot how good it smells, and now I want something to eat!” Annaleigh practically shouted. “Oh, and this super hot guy is my friend, Dean Winchester. Dean, please meet Trista and Cora Dozier, owners of this fine establishment, Two Sisters Bakery. Best pastries in town and best pie this side of the Mississippi.”

“You had me at pie. Ladies, it is a pleasure to meet you,” Dean shook each of their hands gently as his eyes wandered back to the display case filled with pie, unconsciously licking his lips. 

“What’s your poison, Dean?” Trista asked with a wink and a smile. 

He smiled wide and sheepishly replied, “Cherry, please. And, apple. Oh, and a slice of blueberry and banana cream to go please. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Too much trouble? Not at all, pie is what we do!” Cora piped up from behind the counter. “Are you sure you don’t want to try my famous french silk or maybe the pecan? I just took it out of the oven and it should be ready for serving right about now,” she said, drawing it out as she glanced down at her watch.

“Hell yes!” he exclaimed, maybe a little too excited. If you asked Dean, he hadn’t had a good pie in months. He ate a decent slice weekly at least, but not truly good pie, with the perfectly flaky homemade crust. He took the plate she offered with three different flavors. Annaleigh had a slice of the french silk and they sat down at one of the small tables with their delicious treats and coffee.

Annaleigh looked at Dean again with those damn eyes. Her lashes were unbelievably long and curling up as they searched his own emerald ones. With the last fork full of apple pie halfway to his mouth, he stopped, sighed and put the fork down. “What?” he asked her.

She just giggled, like the two sisters staring at them from behind the counter, trying to look busy but failing. “I have heard so much about you from Bobby over the last few years. I feel like I know you. For example, I know you are saving the pecan for last because it is your favorite. I know that you love that damn car more than life itself. I know that you love classic rock and chick flicks...and I know that you blame yourself for Sam.” 

She laid her hand over his on the table, and her eyes welled up with tears but she blinked them back and continued. “Dean,” Annaleigh hesitates, choosing her next words meticulously. She feared he would run, and she worried that she would lose him, before she had the chance to really know him. 

“I-it’s not your fault. Sam made this choice. Y-you could not have stopped him.” She paused to take a breath, a moment to collect her thoughts. 

“I-I don’t wanna talk about it,” Dean whispered, blinking back the burning behind his eyelids, praying the tears would stay at bay. He pulled back in an attempt to untangle his hands from hers.  

“Y-you can’t bring him back. I am sorry for what happened, but you and your brother? You saved the w-world,” she wept in hushed tones, her hands clinging tightly to his, but she pushed through the emotions threatening to drown them both. “Your brother m-made the ultimate sacrifice and saved billions of innocent souls. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I, for one, am grateful. I know how hard this life can be. I lost a brother, too. And more friends than I care to count.” 

She removed her hand from his and Dean immediately missed it, the softness, the warmth, the human connection, that he had been craving. Shaking his head, Dean wiped his face, knowing his emotions had betrayed him and cleared his throat before he spoke, attempting to sound stronger than he felt. His voice was barely audible as he growled. “What am I supposed to do now? You seem to know everything about me, so tell me, Red, what am I supposed to do now?” 

He looked down, trying to avoid her gaze, but not entirely able to. Her eyes were blue, ocean blue, bright and sparkling, and he couldn’t keep away, like a moth to the flame. Instead of answering his questions, she stood, boxing up the remaining slices. “Come on, let’s go back to my place, away from the prying eyes of the Giggle Twins. I will explain it all to you, in time.” 

Twenty minutes later, they rolled down her driveway, and Dean put Baby into park, got out and opened the back door to grab the pie. As he turned to walk toward her house, Annaleigh flung herself against him, one hand on the back of his neck, standing on her tiptoes and slowly pulling him down to her. She leaned in and closed her eyes as she gently pressed up on her toes, inching closer to him than she had been so far. She opened her eyes, lashes fluttering as she gazed upon his face. 

As she pulled back, he could see her face clearly, a small smile tugging at one corner of her mouth. She placed her hand in his, then grabbed the pie and ran off towards her massage studio at the back of her property, laughing maniacally. Dean just stood there, stunned, and shook his head, silently wondering what he had gotten himself into by agreeing to take this hunt. His body tingled from the feel of her pressed against him, as if he could still feel her softness, and smell the lingering chocolate in the air. 

Dean followed after her slowly, not sure what his next move should be or even if there should be a next move. He vaguely remembered arriving three days ago, wanting to get out of this town as fast as possible after the case, but now, he wasn’t so sure.  

By the time he made his way into Annaleigh’s studio, she had changed into a bright blue tank top and leggings. She was standing at the counter, pouring whiskey into two glasses, hips swaying slightly to some country music she had turned on. Dean didn’t recognize the tune, but he wasn’t totally against country music. Bobby was like a father to him, and he had played it enough that Dean had gotten used to it over the years. It wouldn’t be his first choice but then again, this wasn’t his car where he picked the music. Here, he was not the driver, so he kept his mouth shut.

Dean slid off his suit jacket and laid it on the counter behind her. He loosened his tie and walked around the small island until he was standing directly behind Annaleigh. Without thinking, he gently placed his hands on her hips and lowered himself enough so his head rested on her shoulder. With a low chuckle, Dean snaked one hand around her waist and grabbed a glass. He brought it to his lips and took a nice long drink of the warm amber liquid. 

Dean glanced around the studio she had converted on her property and admired what she had done with it. It was petite, but charming, like her. There were a couple of stools around the island, a waiting area of sorts. Wandering the space, he took in the small touches that she had added, while she continued swaying and singing softly in the small kitchenette. In the back corner was a bedroom that she had converted into a massage room. Dean pushed the door open and walked inside. Candles flickered, bathing the room in a soft glow, scented lightly of flowers and fruit; subtle, but comforting.

“Take your clothes off and get on the table face down.” 

Dean jumped a little as he heard her voice behind him. “I didn’t peg you as a Dom, Red. But I have to admit, I kinda like it,” he replied as he turned around and untucked his shirt, a smirk playing on his face.

Did you like it? The nicest thing you can do for a writer is reblog their work and tell them, and others, how much you like it!

Soul to Souls tags: @emoryhemsworth @flamencodiva @iwantthedean @jensengirl83 @deanwanddamons @smol-and-grumpy @waywardbeanie @whatareyousearchingfordean @princessmisery666 @spnbaby-67 @shy-violet-soul @lastcallatrockysbar @winchesterxfamilybusiness @fangirlxwritesx67​ 

[feckin-zicons]

Squids, Dancing, and Dirty thoughts... Not necessarily in that order or all at once.

Apparently people like this? I am more confused than Liam is in this chapter. Which you know, makes sense bc this character only exists in my head, but also doesn’t at all bc I have no idea what goes on in there most of the time. Anyway this is for Zayn, Oxford commas, @stanmedusa who pointed out Zayn was also an Oxford comma stan, @redyellowberry, and their anon to started this mess. Also please imagine Zayn with his current blue hair, but also with his long Aladdin hair bc that’s what I’ve been doing and oh holy gods do I need that to happen. Please. Hair gods make it happen I’m begging

Same warnings as ever its 4AM, this is much longer than planned, and I have no interest in editing, making it sound coherent, or good. No, I don’t know about the squids either.

Parts 1&2 here

Liam would like to point out while he's not a stranger to feeling confused, he's still having trouble pinpointing how exactly he got to be Dance Mistress Irina Alinova's personal bitch. 

Ever since he accidentally interrupted one of the dance practises while looking for a missing prop for Director Corden, more and more of them started disappearing only to show up in the basement. No one else was interested in facing the Dance Mistresses' wrath, but Liam didn't mind the yelling. As long as Mistress Alinova didn't start throwing things, he figured he was safe enough. After all, it gave him the chance to see the blue haired ballerino again.  

Zayn Malik, the god in mortal form, the prima ballerino, the prettiest man Liam had ever seen, who had no idea who Liam even was. 

Liam had it bad. 

Liam had it so bad.

Liam had it so bad he tripped over thin air, spilled hot coffee over himself, and walked into a door when he thought he saw him at a Costas with Louis. The man he saw wasn't Zayn, thank fuck, but the entire sequence of events did give Louis more ammunition to tease him with. Stupid pretty boys with long blue hair and piercings sent from hell just to ruin Liam's life. Yeah, he was a goner. 

Louis dragged out the whole sorry story after Liam texted him about spiking his lunch and laughed himself sick knowing just how much of a mess Liam became around people he was interested in. They still didn't talk about Danielle. Which was a good thing considering the end of that relationship had Liam pretty much swearing off women for the rest of his life. No pussy was worth that mess. Dick though? Liam was willing to take that chance on Zayn, even if asking Harry didn't give him much information. 

According to Harry, Zayn had been around for a few years but mostly kept to himself or the other dancers. There was something about him throwing a fit a few weeks before Liam showed up. Upset about being forced to learn the choreography for Winston's show when it was just going to fail on opening night like it always did. 

Liam thought he had a point, considering. He didn't know what bananas, ballet, and really bad rapping had to do with King James VI but didn't want to voice that in front of the man playing the gay king. No one dared fire Zayn, considering he kept the whole theatre afloat, but it also didn't make many actors happy with him. Especially not Mizz Wendy Williams, who played Marie Antoinette in the play. Again, Liam had a lot of questions he didn't dare ask out loud. It's not like he was ever good at history, so it was entirely possible the two lived in the same time period. Or it was some sort of allegory that went over his head like the aristocrats wearing banana suits did. 

Louis always found his stories about his placement hilarious, but even that one had him wondering if there wasn't some sort of gas leak in their apartment. It wouldn't have been the first time, or the second. Most likely, it was the theatre that was growing some sort of mold that caused insanity if breathed in. Some of the things Liam had been forced to clean in the past few weeks were unspeakable. 

But even that probably couldn't explain Zayn Malik. Nothing could explain that sort of beauty and talent. Or those hands... and thighs... and fingers. Ung. Liam would love to get up close and personal with all of him.  

Either way, Liam had just been cleaning the mirrors in the practice room, humming along to Brandy and Monica on the radio, wondering if Niall was actually going to come down and help him instead of hiding away like a coward. Again. By the second verse, he'd given up trying not to sing along, not expecting anyone to come by. It was late, the dancer's practise long over, and Winston left screaming over an hour ago. Liam would have done a recce and skipped out on the last half hour if one of the managers wasn't sticking around still. Piers Morgan, an absolute cunt who treated the lads on probation like hardened criminals, and he was the prison warden. Despite, you know, most of the lads on summary probation, and Liam’s arson charge being the most serious crime out of all of them. 

Anyway, the last thing he's expecting is for anyone to come in while he's singing about the boy being his, rolling his body to the beat. Which is probably how he ends up tripping over himself when he notices Zayn leaning up against the open door, watching him. Watching him, in bright, tight, teal dance tights (were dance tights usually blue? They should be) that looked nice with his hair and complimented the gold tones of his skin. The skin he could see a lot of. Because he was shirtless. Because he was shirtless and had a lot more tattoos than Liam realized. Tattoos Liam wanted to bite. Not hard enough to make a mark or anything, that would be sacrilegious, but enough to make him make a sound. God, Liam hoped he was a moaner. Not that he thought he had a chance with Zayn or anything, but it would be a shame if Zayn was the type that stayed quiet during sex. 

Except he wasn't being quiet now, he was talking. And Liam was staring at him, like an idiot, not paying attention. Because he was an idiot. 

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, why did this always happen to him? 

"Er, what?" Liam asked, desperately hoping he didn't sound as stupid as he felt right then, which was pretty fucking stupid. He probably looked even stupider than he felt and ruined his chances at ever-

"I asked if you were almost done? Was planning on practising more tonight," Zayn answered him. 

Zayn, Zayn Fucking Malik, answered him, and he was still staring at him like an idiot. Shit Liam say something.

"Pretty" 

Not that you idiot.

"What?" Zayn asked, looking confused and adorable.

Oh god, he was precious. Was that a smile? Was he smiling at him? Liam? Oh no.

"Pretty much, I meant. Pretty much done," Liam replied, wishing the ground would swallow him whole. "Just one more mirror, and I'll be out of your way."

There, those were words, sentences even. Now all he had to do was act normal and finish cleaning. Easy. 

"So, Brandy and Monica, right? You like R'n'B then?" Zayn asked him, walking into the room with a heavy dance bag, setting it off to the side.

Liam felt himself flushing as he turned back around to finish cleaning the mirror so Zayn wouldn't see.  "Yeah," he answered, trying not to peek at Zayn bending over as he rifled through his belongings. 

Those legs, Fuck. Liam wondered what it'd feel like to have them around his- 

"I didn't expect that," Zayn said, drawing Liam out of his filthy thoughts, and making him turn back around.

"What?"

"No, I- I didn't mean it in a bad way or anything. I guess I just expected you to listen to more rock?" 

Liam was pretty sure he missed half of the conversation somewhere. Was Zayn blushing? He was so pretty. Wow. 

"No, I like everything," he replied dumbly. They were still talking about music, right? That would make sense. Why was Zayn talking to him again? God, Liam couldn't handle this. "Do you like it? The music, I mean."

"Yeah, grew up listening to ‘em. My older sister was obsessed with Monica. So... Who's your favourite artist?" 

"Artist? Oh uh, I've been listening to a lot of Post Malone? How about you? What do you- who do you listen to?" 

"Post Malone's sick, mate. I like most music I guess, but I've been listening to a lot of The Weekend."

"Have you heard his new album?"

"Yeah, it's sick! Do you-" Zayn was cut off by Niall running in out of breath. The bright orange tee that labelled him as one of the community service workers was wet and stained black. Actually.. all of him was soaked and stained black. Was that ink?

"Hey, Payno, are you done yet because we have a situation upstairs," Niall gasped out, hands on his knees, looking like he'd just seen his life flash before his eyes. 

"What the hell happened to you?" 

"There's a squid stick in the toilet." 

"There's a what?"

"A Squid! A giant fucking squid in the toilet!" 

Liam blinked in confusion, trying to wrap his head around why there would be a squid anywhere near the theatre let alone one of the toilets. Did Corden want live animals in his show now? Or Winston. It could be either of them. 

"Why do you need me?" he asked. "I don't know anything about squids."

Niall sounded like he was at the end of his rope when he replied, "You know something about plumbing at least!" 

"Not a lot! Enough to keep the water on at home, but I'm not a plumber." 

"Doesn't matter, we need your help, Ashtons gone to find some butter," Niall said, stomping back around, leaving behind a trail of watery black ink. "We'll meet you upstairs when you're done."

"Wait, what do you need butter for?!" Liam called after him but didn't get a reply. Butter? How was butter going to help?

A muffled giggle distracted Liam from his thoughts, and he was abruptly reminded Zayn was still in the room. Zayn, might as well be a god, was in the room, and Liam was just talking about squids in toilets.

Why him?

"I guess I should go see what they need help with?" Liam tried to say without sounding... Well, he wasn't sure what the proper response was in this situation or how to react to it. 

Zayn smiled at him, and oh. How was it possible he looked even more attractive now? 

Liam thinks Zayn said something about the other lads needing him and it sounding urgent, but really, Liam was in a daze until he also got a face full of ink... From another squid in an entirely different toilet. 

What the fuck.

Louis was never going to let him live this down. 

Really? Squids???

[braincoins]

WIP Wednesday

There’s a NSFW WIP Wednesday up on Ye Olde Blog o’ Smut, but to go back to Dragon Age: Schism and my warden for a moment, we have this totally SFW WIP :D Oh, sure, there’s a Not-So-Subtle Implication at the end there, but that’s the end of scene; we won’t be... following along, as it were. And the rest of this is totally A-OK!

Cut for the sake of your dash. You’re welcome.

           The party was in full swing, elves and humans and the few dwarves chatting and laughing, some of them even dancing as people brought out instruments and began to play. And Kivral just sat draped on her chair, back to one armrest and legs kicked over the other, and watched it happen around her.

           She couldn’t pin down how she was feeling. Her emotions were like startled birds just taking wing, and even though most of them were joyful ones, she was still a-flutter.

           Happiness to see her old clan again.

           Relief that there was nothing wrong.

           An aravel of her own, to pass down to Warden-Commanders in the future.

           The acknowledgement of that, of the Grey Wardens as her clan now.

           The sudden realization that they could and perhaps should be traveling Ferelden. Darkspawn were unlikely to come to them, after all. At least, not anymore.

           The weight of the upcoming Arlathven, for that matter. She’d told Keeper Marethari that she and Velanna would be delighted to attend as representatives of the Wardens, to take the opportunity to thank the other clans for the fighters they’d sent to defeat the Blight, and to remember those who had fallen in that service.

           But she’d never been someone at an Arlathven before. The last time, she’d barely been a whelp of a girl, still learning the ways of bow, arrow, and forest. She chuckled to herself at the memory of how sick she’d made herself on honey-cakes.

           “Enjoying yourself, I see?” Alistair draped an arm over the back of her chair and looked out at the party.

           “I am,” she agreed.

           “Would it be pressing it to ask for a dance?”

           “Pressing it? Why would it be?”

           He cleared his throat. “Well, I noticed you didn’t really… um…”

           Ah, yes, one of those less-joyful emotions fluttering within her: the fact of who and what Alistair was to her, which she had continued to hide. It was cruel to him, but she wasn’t sure standing up and announcing it now would be much better.

           Instead, she kicked her legs up and off as she got to her feet. “Come with me, ma vhenan,” she said, feeling the impulse seize her.

           He followed her, of course: out of the room, down the stairs, away and away until the noise and the song dimmed. She went straight to where the halla were penned. “I want to introduce you.”

           He barked a laugh. “If the halla like me, does that mean your old clan will, too?”

           “It bodes better for it,” she agreed, “but I want them to get used to you. To humans in general, but especially to you.”

           She introduced him to Falon, told Alistair all about the halla (well, as much as Maren had relayed to her), and taught him how to make proper introductions. “They’re so much more than mere horses,” she reminded him. “You have to treat him like a… well, like a halla-shaped person.”

           It was odd for her human lover, she could tell, but for all he protested that he “wasn’t a dog person,” she’d seen how good he was with Sekh. Some of that could be put down to the mabari’s intelligence, but halla were fairly smart as well. So she wasn’t surprised at all that a halla so friendly as to be named ‘Friend’ would get on well with Alistair. They didn’t do much more than say hello to Enasal, but it was enough for now.

           “Joy in triumph over loss, hm?” he asked as she headed for the aravel.

           She nodded. “Appropriate.”

           “I agree. Uh, where are we…?” He broke off the question when its answer became apparent: she hopped in and pulled the leather doorflap back for him. He laughed. “You’re really happy about this aravel, aren’t you?”

           “YES! It’s… I don’t even know what to compare it to for you. Maybe like getting an arling, or at least a bannorn.”

           He whistled in surprise as he stepped in. “That would be something.”

           “But without the politics,” she added on. “There is a responsibility to an aravel,” as she lit a couple of lanterns, “but it isn’t about leadership.”

           “But the leaders have them.”

           “So do some others.” She moved to seat the wooden planks into place on this side of the door, the better to keep someone from coming in after them. “They take ages to make, you see. And that’s the responsibility.” She looked around at the gleam of candlelight on polished wood. “To take care of it, to pass it down to the future.” She sat on a padded bench and began work on unbuckling her boots.

           “An aravel is a gift from the clan, and they usually stay within the clan, while we’re at it. This one was made specially for me, for the Wardens, and made in a special way that is both stronger and lighter than normal aravels. It took them the better part of two years to make this, and they just… they just gave it away. There are probably clan members who are envious that I have such a privilege as this.”

           He sat next to her. “But no one will try to take it from you, right?”

           “No one. It is the wish of the elders of the clan that I have it, and that alone is… it overwhelms me, Alistair. Just that thought alone, let alone that they went through with this and gave it to me, knowing and intending that it stay with the Wardens… This is unprecedented.”

           “So is defeating a Blight so quickly. What are you doing?” he asked at long last.

           Freed of her boots, she rose, turned to him, and looped her arms behind his neck as she straddled his lap. She saw a brief flare of color in his cheeks in the dim light, but his hands went to her waist instinctively.

           “We have an aravel, ma vhenan. I was hoping we could make use of it.” She knew her grin would help make her intention clear.

           “Now?” he asked in surprise.

           “Right now,” she purred, leaning in to kiss him.

           And if he had any further protests, it was hard to tell because he was sliding his arms around her more fully, drawing her in tight against his broad chest.

           In the distance, the rest of the keep continued to celebrate.

[silvanils]

Give me a character!! Vilkas, Ulfric, Alistair, and Solas (I tried to think of some you don't have paired with any of your OCs 😂)

GIVE ME A CHARACTER; and I’ll break their ass down:

Vilkas was the hardest one to do this for, LOL! I hope you enjoy my thoughts on these guys, though~

I also made the decision to not include the “unpopular opinions” part simply because I don’t pay enough attention to fandom as a whole to know what counts as “popular” vs. “unpopular.”

Vilkas:

How I feel about this character: He’s smart, definitely one of the main strategists of the current set of Companions. He loves his brother more than anything and it shows in a lot of small ways. I wish they had more moments together. I also find it a bit amusing, since Aril romances Farkas, that the first official Companions quest involves having to prove your worth by fighting Vilkas.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: I am actually drawing a blank here. Aril honed in on Farkas SO HARD, Vilkas has always just been ‘the other brother.” Hm... I think his romance partner would need to be someone who can put up with his jabs, someone that doesn’t back down, someone witty... but also sweet. I think Vilkas likes sweet, kind gestures in private. Aril is a bit too public about his sweetness and affections for Vilkas. LOL. I realize I avoided the question, though. Maybe one of the other companions, like Ria?

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Vilkas and Farkas, of course! They stick together, no matter what. He also (eventually) opens up to Aril and they get along really well, too.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: Mostly just that he had a MORE prominent role. He, Farkas, and Aela should’ve been the “Nightingales” of the Companions, except each of them has different views on the Beast Blood. (I think Vilkas would be the first to want to follow Kodlak’s example, because he’s always questioned the wisdom of using such power. Farkas is neutral about it - happy either way, but he’ll take whatever path his brother does. And Aela won’t budge from her choice to keep it.) 

Ulfric:

How I feel about this character: I’ve always thought he was interesting, some of his lines really hit me. There’s a tired, melancholic air around him that I relate to, and... I think he’s caught up in a web he never wanted to be part of. “I fight so that all the fighting I've already done hasn't been for nothing.” Ow.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: ALL? In that case, I’ll admit, Casien’s way up there at this point. I also ship him and Legate Rikke to some degree, I feel like they had SOME kind of history and it MIGHT have been romantic. I don’t think Ulfric falls in love often or easily. (Probably on the grey-asexual spectrum somewhere.)

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Galmar, of course! Possibly Ralof, too. They’re all good friends.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: Mm... so this kind of falls under stuff I wish were in Skyrim in general, but I wish more stuff about how elves and other races are being treated would come up, especially if you are PLAYING as someone who isn’t a Nord. He should’ve at least had some kind of comment if the Dragonborn who shows up at his door is an elf or Imperial or anything ELSE unexpected.

Alistair:

How I feel about this character: He’s... so... good. I adore him. He’s smart and clever, looks for the bright side, and tries to make everyone else feel better even when he probably needs someone to give him a pep talk, too.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Lyanna Cousland, Zevran, Leliana, Morrigan... I also think Dirk Tabris had a one-sided crush on him. I really love Alistair/Warden in general, though. ^-^ (The Leliana and Morrigan ships are a bit conditional, and Zevran... I think is a crush on Alistair’s part, but Zevran knows and teases him because of it. Alistair maybe doesn’t realize it’s a crush until later and he’s like “Oh. I see. Okay. That makes more sense, now.”)

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Duncan came to mind first, but... I might actually say Zevran, even though I also listed him in the previous area. They make for an odd pair of friends, but they complement each other well. I also actually adore how much Teagan cares for him and vice-versa. (At least, from what we see of them together in DA2.)

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: He deserves to know the truth about his mom. Tangentially related, I really REALLY wish King Alistair had a bigger role in Inquisition... and he should have been able to interact with Morrigan and Kieran, too, especially if Kieran’s his child. It just seems strange to have put all that in there and then do NOTHING with it.

Solas:

How I feel about this character: I didn’t expect to like him, but I do. I know I use the word “interesting” a lot but Solas REALLY IS. I’ve always been fascinated by ageless/immortal characters, and myths, and characters that long for a past they can’t go back to...

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Passion, Felassan, Varlas, Ash Lavellan (one-sided, more of a crush)... I like him with Lavellans in general, but I do wish there were more fics and art featuring male Lavellans.

My non-romantic OTP for this character: A non-romanced Inquisitor, I suppose? It seems like out of ALL his friends in the Inquisition, it is the Inquisitor alone that can say “I won’t give up on you” whether they’re together or not. Ash is definitely such an Inquisitor.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I wish the conversation about vallaslin happened with EVERY Lavellan Inquisitor, regardless of romance or gender, and every Lavellan was given the choice of keeping them or letting Solas take them. It seems like a really important bit of info to ONLY give to a romanced Lavellan.

[gofancyninjaworld]

Re: what rough beast -- some awesome reactions :)

Because the original post was so long, I thought I’d not reblog it but rather make some answers their own post.

From

aeon-warden We need more amazing meta like this... I really admire Webigaza’s bravery since last year it took me four months only to repair my broken jaw (I may be counted as a “cyborg” too since there are lifelong titanium plates in my cranial bones now :p). Having such a small part of your body replaced is already as painful as hell. I can’t almost imagine what Webigaza has paid for to be 71% modified or even more, like Genos, Destro, Elimin or possibly Drive Knight.

Ouch!  I hope your jaw is fully-healed now.

The dictionary definition of a cyborg is: “a person whose physiological functioning is aided by or dependent upon a mechanical or electronic device.“  IRL, there are millions of cyborgs, a.k.a. people whose lives have been made better by human ingenuity. 

Because we’re in a story where the technology is good enough to do more than just restore function,  and thus people can opt for body modification to suit their purposes,  but for all that, it’s makes a pretty grounded treatment of cyborgs. We’re following heroes around, so it’s little wonder that we see the heroes who are inclined and able to get parts opt to modify them to help their heroic endeavours.   But not everyone: Iaian has opted not to get a prosthetic arm thus far, and Blue Fire is sporting a regular split hook arm (if I’m remembering Murata’s drawing correctly). That is as it should be -- there’s no need to justify what you do with your body to anyone.

and not everyone is ‘lucky’ to be just looking at limb loss -- it looks like One-Shotter has had half his head reconstructed at one stage.  Which, ironically, saved his life. 

I really appreciate Koko explaining what people who choose body modfications driven by choice and profit opt for -- and that they’re quite ordinary.  And his marvelling at Webigaza, at the sheer resolve that has to lie behind opting for such high-risk surgery and what sounds like six months of hell.

I know, I know, I shouldn’t be so happy at a story that takes human agency seriously and treats its removal as a great crime, but I am.

From @the-nysh

I will always agree that ONE is one sneaky bastard. :D  The single biggest realisation for me has been that Genos is just telling the truth.  No matter how crazy or disturbing it sounds, it’s just the truth as he sees it -- and he sees pretty well.  But there’s three take aways I wish I’d gotten to!

1. Absolutely I cannot know how ONE envisages things.  However, an adult human brain is about 2% of body weight,  so when we see Destro and Erimin at 5% and 6% body weight, we now know that ONE sees even the most extreme cyborgs as needing some body to support that brain.  Which, I’ll admit, was a bit gratifying to see.

2. Even in OPM, if a medic could open up Genos or his brothers in chrome,  their bodies would make no sense.  How are they even alive?  Never mind well!

3. Koko’s reaction of skin-crawling horror is very much the typical response you’d expect from someone confronted with something that’s human, but *wrong*.   To wonder at the kind of mindset that opts to do something so radical to themselves or indeed, who agrees to carry out such a procedure.

It contrasts so well with Saitama’s nonchalant reaction when Genos tells him about his mechanical body:

But that’s Saitama for you.  From the very beginning, he has always been able to see the person beneath the skin.

[noxleyfin]

Newsies Imagine: Homeless And Annoyed PART 2

Newsies x 13-year-old (M) Newsie (Homeless And Annoyed) Part. 2

→ a/n: I don’t know any of the actors personally nor do I own them or their characters. What’s written below is fiction and should be thought of and treated as such. I am essentially using them as a name-claim and face-claim. I’m creating my own character and using the actors as background characters, and just using their name and features for details. I do not directly associate the actors with any ideas used in my writing. This writing is to be used for entertainment and fictional purposes only. → summary: this kids done with his living situation and stumbles upon a fellow guy in need. → warnings: mentions of past abuse, violence, strong language, stupid Delancey's, bad writing → word count: 1097 → completion: done → (Y/N) - Your Name 

Saturday, August 15th, 1899 5:04 p.m. 2nd Person POV

Life sucks. And that’s a fact. 

“Hey, dirtbag! Where ya’ running to?” Your new ‘friend’ called from behind you.

Up your mother’s ass.

Of course, you didn’t say that. Probably wouldn’t have been a very good idea. 

What you really said was, “Didn’t know there was a curfew, Nerf Herder!” 

...That probably wasn’t much better, was it?

“The hell you call me?” 

You turned into your alley. “You deaf or somethin’?” 

Swinging your body around, you watched the dark shadow figure follow behind you. 

Well, at least this one isn’t super ugly. It’s real embarrassing to get beat by a guy who’s less handsome than you. Luckily, that doesn’t happen often. He was older than you, maybe by 5 years. His face was bare of any hair but his dumb looking hat distracted you from the fact that he hasn’t puberty yet. You’ve seen him around before; he and his brother like to go around messing with people. Speaking of which, where is his brother? 

“So you found the rat, Oscar?”

Speak of the asshole.

“He tried to escape, but he couldn’t get past me,” Oscar informed his brother with a smirk.

You just stood there looking at them and they looked at you. 

“Get him.”

Your mind was fuzzy after he said that. 

“Geroff!”

You could faintly hear the sound of your body flopping to the ground and the insults that the brothers yelled at you as white-hot pain exploded everywhere. “Leave me alone!” 

It felt different from when that one man kicked you in the chest, that had only lasted a few days but this felt like it would stay with you forever. “I’m...I’m warning’ ya’.” You don’t even remember when they stopped hitting you. 

“Hey! Leave ‘em alone!” 

And then it went dark. 

Sunday, August 16th, 1899 8:13 a.m. 3rd Person POV

“What’s gonna happen to him?” 

“I got no clue, Kid.” 

“But what about his family?” 

Les wasn’t exactly happy about what happened to his new friend. The night before, while on a walk, Race and Jojo had found  a half-dead (Y/N) unconscious in an alley with the Delancys on top of them. When they finally managed to chase them away, they dragged him between them to the Lodging House. The warden had sent for a doctor and Snipeshooter ran to the Jacobs’ apartment to bring David and Les along. Les, unfortunately, was not allowed to stay the night so only David could come. When he saw what had happened to the boy who had reunited him with his little brother, he went into a rage, mumbling about how he was gonna kill Oscar and Morris, all while wiping at the bloody wound on (Y/N)’s forehead. 

After he cleaned them up to the best of his ability, the doctor arrived with the warden and Davey was shoved to the side. With an extensive evaluation, the doctor concluded that while nothing was broken (thank god), he had a severe concussion and was ordered to stay in bed for at least a week. The newsies gave him the extra bunk that David usually used while he slept over. In the meantime, David decided to sleep on the old couch in the front room. It wasn’t comfortable in the slightest, but he wasn’t leaving. He felt a strange protectiveness over the young boy, like he was another younger brother. 

Jack sighed. Les had been brought over by Race not too long ago and wouldn’t shut his trap. We love the kid but (Y/N) was right, the kid really is annoying. 

“We don’t even know if the guy has a family or not, Kid. We just have to wait ta ask him.” He explained. 

“C’mon, Les,” David called from the corner. “Leave Jack alone. Wanna draw with Smalls?” He gestured to the close-in-age girl sitting next to him. 

Smalls looked up with a smile and waved Les over. Les grinned and jogged over and was handed a green crayon and the two kids began to color together. At this point, David started to worry and for the fifth time that day, sat next to (Y/N) and brushed some hair out of his face. 

“Dave,” Jack sighed from his spot at the cards table, “Leave the poor kid alone. You gonna give him a heart attack when he wakes up.”

David sighed and began to stand up, knowing Jack was right, but as soon as he did, a soft groan emitted from (Y/N)’s body. Conversations stopped as everyone stared at the young boy. Jack and Davey were the closest and therefore, the first faces he saw when (Y/N) finally opened his eyes. They opened slowly, more groans and grunts coming out as he did. However, when he saw who was above him, he was not happy.

“Get away!” He started to yell. He went to sit up but Jack held him down...only making (Y/N) more mad but he only attempted to fight for a few minutes before falling back in exhaustion. “Where...where am I?” He stuttered out, trying to move his head but hissing at the pain it caused. 

“Woah! Slow down, Kid,” Jack did his best to calm him down but he was still attempting to fight the tight grip on his shoulders. 

“Please let me go,” (Y/N) begged. David could see tears forming in his eyes. His gaze met Jack’s and he nodded to the other boy.

Jack slowly let go of (Y/N)’s shoulders but didn’t put his arms down right away. 

“Is’okay. We ain’t gonna hurt ya’.”

Eventually (Y/N) relaxed back into the hard mattress but anyone could see he was still tense; that is, everyone except Les. As soon as he thought was appropriate, the boy rushed over to the other, ignoring Smalls’ offended look when he threw her green crayon to the floor. 

“(Y/N)!” He called out, smiling brighter than he had in a fair while.

Once (Y/N) saw Les, at first he grimaced but it soon melted into a reluctant smile. “Hey, Kid,” he called briefly. That was enough for the expectant Les. He began to ramble on about nothing and everything while David and Jack backed off, choosing to ignore (Y/N)’s desperate look. They exited the room and spoke quietly despite being away from the group. 

“You think he’s gonna be okay?” David asked. 

Jack thought for a moment. He and the others had seen the flinches and heard the boy’s not so quiet pleas back in the bunkroom; it wasn’t hard to determine what had possibly happened to him in previous times. He sighed deeply before answering his friend, “I’m not sure, Dave. But that’s what we’re here for.”

[beautymarred]

This visual essay series by dionetaofavalon.tumblr.com [ this post in particular ] made me think.

I know it was supposed to be all secret and everything… but let’s play devil’s advocate––or Morgoth’s advocate, if you would prefer––for a moment and work under the theory: what if Thranduil did know that Galadriel had a ring of power…

And, likewise, he knew that Elrond had one…

Would that not explain some of the tension between Thranduil and the other realms?

Out of wariness and general distrust, he isolates his own realm, aside from a few correspondences/agreements with Laketown. And he’s (whether deliberately or not) excluded from the White Council, though he also likely lived at least at the end of the First Age and was old enough by the Second Age to have fought at the Dagorlad against Sauron, et cetera. WHERE ELROND ALSO WAS. Would that not lend some level of respect to him that he might be included, if only via letters as I doubt he would willingly/without great reluctance leave his realm?

Now, while I can see him being more forgiving of Elrond––both within my backstory with @ofgoldcnflowcrs / @ofmarchwardcns / @ofcldcrdays and outside of it––is it really any wonder that he isolates himself and his realm? To some extent, on top of just being wary and distrustful in general, I’m sure he’s maybe just a little bitter that he and his people got the short end of the stick.

Imladris is protected.

Lothlórien is protected.

And then Thranduil has to deal with damn giant spiders and darkness-twisted woods. Perils that Galadriel––for all of her meddling in the affairs of Middle Earth, and Mithrandir’s as well for that matter––has never offered to purge or make any attempt to aid him in its protection. (Which, ostensibly, could very well have helped to prevent the death of his wife, had such measures been taken, though that’s more of a hypothetical situation.)

Neither was any attempt––to the reader/viewer’s knowledge––made to ask help or advice of Thranduil at the time of the various Council meetings.

[ NOTE: Within RP on my old account, there is an exception to this in my arrow & the song verse with @ofgoldcnflowcrs wherein Glorfindel likely has to practically beg him to journey from his halls to wherever the meeting is being held to share with Galadriel and Elrond what he has seen for himself… only for Saruman to be there––unexpected and uninvited––to try to dispel every concern, and when that fails to make Thranduil pause, he then verbally tears him apart and trivializes him as he has done to Gandalf and to Radagast and makes him seem every bit the eccentric and foolish king with far too much fondness of wine that I’m sure some rumors have made him, causing Thranduil to level a, “I came here against my better judgment and this is how I am treated. I have had enough of this farce.” at Galadriel and Elrond before storming out with every intention of returning to his halls. ]

On top of excluding Thranduil from Councils, when the battles happen in War of the Ring Era, Lothlórien deals with its own issues––understandably, as it undergoes heavy assault from the enemy––but, again, Thranduil’s people are left to fend for themselves. So while that works out well enough obviously as the legions only made the mistake of attacking Thranduil ONCE, it still seems a little odd.

(Though it also proves, as being able to bring back even a third of his army out of the mess that was Dagorlad, that Thranduil is not only an able king, but a skilled leader in battle as well, likely a tactician to some degree, or at least willing to listen to advisers and military commanders who are tacticians. And we already know my headcanon about him basically being a quick-draw with a blade and fearsome in combat.)

But, really, how much more does that say about Thranduil that he’s the only one of the three major realms remaining who doesn’t have a Ring of Power?

And consider that, of all the (elven) realms, his is perhaps closest to multiple of the Very Bad™ dangers/perils and therefore more at risk than others as it is.

Here is a map of Middle Earth.

For the purpose of this, let’s narrow down the focus. Here’s a cropped map with the three ‘realms’ highlighted: Imladris (blue), Lórien (gold), and Mirkwood (green).

(NOTE: I’ve had to approximate the location a little with the latter as it was not marked on this map, so where I’ve colored may not be 100% accurate.)

Now let’s look at what perils surround each realm.

First, Lothlórien.

Lórien is close to the mountains, closer to Mordor itself, and closest to Dol Guldur. But, Galadriel has a ring that offers a great deal of protection to the land and her people. To the extent that, while orcs may raid and cause the loss of lives on the outskirts with the wardens, or that they may even attempt something bold, no true trouble has come from Dol Guldur. For her and her people. Because the darkness of the forest cannot reach them.

Next, Imladris.

Imladris is closest, I believe, to the Misty Mountains and the dangers that lurk there. And while Imladris may indeed be closer to Gundabad as the crow flies, it’s closer across/over the mountain chain rather than across wide open plains and dark woods where anything could lie in wait. And again, there is a ring of power there. Not only that, however, but also there dwells Glorfindel who––by the generally accepted account, I believe––is a reborn Lord of Gondolin, sent back by the Valar with great Power and Light. Power and Light enough to chase away Ring-Wraiths.

Now, to Mirkwood.

Thranduil, on the other hand, his realm is near enough to Gundabad to pose a problem (especially if you do keep the movie canon that his wife was killed there, as I do). His next door neighbor is a dragon. And he and his people were forced to move from where they had originally settled, if I remember correctly, because of the reach of Dol Guldur, which happens to be in the very same forest, even though Lórien is––again, as the crow flies––closer.

On top of that, Thranduil’s forest itself has been twisted by the shadow of Sauron (who nobody believes has returned), and the spiders––if not orcs as well––assail his people and make, what once was the Greenwood, come to be known as Mirkwood.

It becomes even worse when you take into consideration the mindset of Thranduil and his people, whether truly a valid threat or not:

❛ The king’s cave was his palace, and the strong place of his treasure, and the fortress of his people against their enemies.

It was also the dungeon of his prisoners. So to the cave they dragged Thorin––not too gently, for they did not love dwarves, and thought he was an enemy. In ancient days they had had wars with some of the dwarves, whom they accused of stealing their treasure. ❜ [ The Hobbit, Pocket Edition; page 155 ]

Coupled with the actual movie (insomuch as it might be allowed), the Iron Hills could also very easily be added to the list of dangers (and/or perceived dangers):

Yet, despite everything, he keeps his people safe and cared for and as happy as they can be under the circumstances, at least enough that they feel free––in the book––to hold festivals and parties out in the forest. He is impressive enough as a ruler, that Tolkien makes a point of writing into the Hobbit,

❝ In a great cave some miles within the edge of Mirkwood on its eastern side there lived at this time their greatest king. ❞  [ The Hobbit, Pocket Edition; page 154 ]

Which would at least imply that he was held in some reverence and respect, if only by his own people.

All of that, without a Ring of Power, without anything that would have aided in his endeavors besides his own ability as a King.

I know I’ve somewhat combined book and movie-adaption into this post––and into the way that I portray Thranduil––but I think regardless of media, it’s worth noting. There are aspects of things that I’ve mentioned here, even in the films, though it is more difficult to see due to the butchery of the writers and He Who Shall Not Be Named (and likely open to interpretation even still).

I suppose I just find that rather impressive for a character who most people––including the writers and HWSNBN––turn into a villain or into a parody or the punchline of a joke.

[dontmindthefangirling]

Catfish {t.h.}

part 1

Summary: What happens when you start falling in love with a boy online, completely unaware that it's Tom Holland behind the computer screen?

Tom Holland x Female!Reader (reader is 18)

Takes place before Spider-Man: Homecoming 

Warnings: none

series masterlist

-

Crickets. That's all you could hear outside of your window. The chirp, chirp, chirp of the crickets was what normally soothed you to sleep, but tonight they were a loud annoyance in your ear.

You stared at the ceiling of your bedroom, the only light came from the moon's rays through your window. You tossed and turned, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't get comfortable. You glanced at your clock that sat perched on your bedside table and groaned loudly.

3:23 AM.

It should be illegal to be awake at this hour with school creeping up on you with every waking minute.

You knew why you couldn't sleep, and you had just wished that you could have closed your eyes as soon as your head hit your pillow and had fallen into a deep slumber, but of course your thoughts kept you wide awake.

Your ex-boyfriend had just gotten a new girlfriend.

The thought made you sick to your stomach. Not because he had a new girlfriend, well that kind of made you sick to your stomach, but because it bothered you so much. You hated your ex, loathed him even, so why did you care that he had a new victim to terrorize?

A part of you felt obligated to warn the girl of your ex's horrible behavior towards the female population. When you were together, he was probably the worst boyfriend on the planet. He demanded things of you, objectified you, and did not respect you one bit. When you finally ended the relationship, he lashed out at you, calling you every horrible name in the book. In fact, you had never felt more relieved to get out of that relationship. He was the epitome of scum, and you were finally able to enjoy your life without him hovering over you like a warden.

But today you learned that he had a new girlfriend. You didn't know the girl, had never seen her before until you scrolled through Instagram and saw her picture plastered on your ex's profile picture. You'd be lying if you didn't do some investigating that any police officer would be impressed by, and found out her name, where she was from, and how long she and your ex have been together.

You thought that you should be happy that he's moved on and found someone else, and that maybe he'll treat her better than he did you. But at the same time you were pissed. How is it fair that he can go on his way, being happy with someone else without any remorse of how he treated you? How was that fair at all?

As your thoughts paraded around your head, you realized you were clenching your sheets as anger flowed through your veins. You took a deep breath, releasing the sheets from your grasp and closing your eyes.

But every time you shut your eyes, your ex's scowling face appeared in your mind.

You rolled over and buried your face in your pillow and let out a loud groan in anger and frustration. He should not still be having this effect on you, ruining a much needed night's sleep.

You were sure you had bags under your eyes by now. How flattering.

Succumbing to the realization that you were not going to fall asleep, you grabbed your phone from it's place on your bedside table and clicked it on, illuminating your face with the bright light of your lock-screen.

You scrolled through Instagram, seeing the faces of your classmates, dogs, and your local sports teams' players, until you got bored. You were tempted to look at your ex's Instagram, but closed the app before you could. That would only make you angrier.

Next came Snapchat. Of course no one had snapped you in the last four hours because everyone else was luckily asleep. You scrolled through your streaks, looked at the same stories that you had already looked at, and then closed the app in boredom.

You let out a sigh and opened Twitter. Luckily, more of the world was awake on you Twitter app, and you were able to amuse yourself for a few minutes reading funny vine references. You were about to close the app when you spotted a notification in the corner of your screen. Confused, you clicked on the little messages box and saw that there was a message from someone named Peter King. You only used your Twitter to follow people from school, and you knew that there was no one by the name of Peter King in your school.

Curious, you opened the message.

-Hey! This might sound a little creepy, but I follow your Tumblr and thought you were really cool. My name's Peter :)

You furrowed your eyebrows. He followed your Tumblr? How did he find your Twitter?

You noticed the message was sent only thirty minutes ago. You quickly wrote a message back, desperate for some sort of human interaction. It was the only way of keeping you sane until morning came and you were forced to go to school.

-Hey Peter! It's nice to meet you, I'm (Y/N).

Once you hit send, you went back to scrolling through vine references when a notification popped up once again by none other than Peter.

-Wow, I didn't think you'd respond. But hey :)

Your thumbs quickly typed back a message.

-So you follow my tumblr?

-Yeah! I've read some of your fics about the mcu and thought you were really talented.

You smiled at his response. You wrote a little bit of fanfiction here and there when you were bored, but you never really thought anyone read them, much less liked them.

-Thank you so much! It means a lot to me.

While you waited for his response, you clicked on the link to his Twitter page. You looked at his profile picture. It was a cartoon drawing of Spider-Man hanging upside down. There wasn't much to his page. He only had 35 followers, but he retweeted a lot of Marvel things.

A notification popped up from him and you felt yourself smiling as you wrote him back.

Slowly, the clock began to turn. One hour went by, then two, then three, and before you knew it the sun began to shine in through your window and you were still staring at the Twitter screen of your messages, talking to this boy that seemed to like your writing.

Your alarm went off on your phone, startling you as you hadn't realized how long you had been talking to Peter. You didn't even feel exhausted after having pulled an all-nighter. You scanned over the messages that you and Peter had sent each other. You learned that he was twenty, only two years older than you, and you learned that he was studying business in school. As a high school senior, you were constantly being asked what you wanted to do in life, but in reality, you had no idea what you wanted to do.

When you relayed this information to Peter, you expected him to be like everyone else and say something along the lines of "Well how do you expect to get a job if you don't know what you want to study?"

But instead he was very supportive and told you that he knew many people in college that had no idea what they were going to study. Some people even graduated with a degree that they never use.

You also learned that Peter has a dog named Parker. You asked if he named his dog after Peter Parker, but he denied it. A part of you still thinks he did name it after the superhero.

But overall, you learned that Peter was a really nice guy, and you were grateful to him that he kept you entertained until you had to go to school. A part of you was weary. You knew people on the internet could be complete creeps and lie about everything they said. He could be an old man for all you knew.

However, you knew you didn't have to get close to him. In fact, you probably weren't going to message him again after school, but he did make your night much better.

You quickly told him you had to go before you got up to get ready for school.

You set your phone down, with no intention of messaging Peter again.

How wrong you were.

-

part 2