tel-abelas-mofo  asked:

For DWC: Solavellan 38. 'don’t ever say that again.’

oops, sorry! forgot to put this in the reply to your ask! reblog because do things neatly or don’t do ‘em! I’m a bit of a tumblr mess.

For @dadrunkwriting and @tel-abelas-mofo

Finally! I finished it! Actually contains some dialogue, which is fairly unusual for me. I’m quite proud.

Lavellan is hurt in a fight, and Solas’ worry for her lays bare the way he obviously cares for her, much as he has tried to hide it.

Some fluff! All the fluff!

The force of the blast almost causes him to lose his balance, as he topples backwards. He just manages to steady himself, as his hand makes contact with the rough surface of tree bark behind him. It takes him only a few quick, calculated glances at the clearing in which they have been fighting to realize that the battle is over. He can feel the pressure of imminent danger recede, yet something else seems wrong, somehow. The air is suddenly too thick to breathe, and he feels as if the world has gone from deafening noise to numbing deafness within just a few short seconds. He turns unconsciously to make out the reason for this abrupt shift in his perception, as his eyes fall on her. Solas has to stop himself from rushing to her side, as she walks unsteadily to where he’s standing.

He tries to calm his breathing and relax his face into an expression of sober practicality as he speaks.

“You’re hurt. Let me-”

“I’m fine. It’s not that bad.”

It certainly looks bad. Her clothes are smeared with blood, and she almost trips over the roots of a tall dark tree. The sight of her sends a chill through his blood, and he feels his face go numb as he considers how close he came to losing her just then.

When she’s only a few steps from him, she lets herself sink to the mossy forest ground, her back leaning against the trunk of a tall, dark oak. She curls up, her forehead resting against her knees. The wish to make sure that she really isn’t seriously hurt stirs him into action, and he steps forward and crouches down next to her.

“Let me see. Maybe I can help.” He lays a gentle hand to the side of her face. She looks up at the unexpected touch, and he instantly regrets it. She isn’t badly hurt, it seems; just a little shaken by the unexpected fight. But there’s confusion in her eyes at this unknown closeness. His simple touch, which was merely supposed to make certain that she is alright, lays bare a vulnerability that makes his stomach turn. He suspects that it is just as clear to her as it is to him that, under any other circumstances, he would never get so close to her. Her brows knit together softly; but why does he think he can see sadness in that?

“I saw the blood on you. It isn’t yours?” He can’t quite keep the trepidation at the thought out of his voice.

“No. It isn’t mine.” She turns her head slightly to the side, her eyes leaving his, and he lets go of her face. But he still doesn’t manage to stand up and remove himself from her just yet. So he sits down next to her, his head leaning back against the tree trunk, and closes his eyes.

It seems unlikely to him that she should be so surprised to see the way he obviously cares for her. But apparently she is not as acutely aware of his infatuation as he is, and maybe that shouldn’t come as such a surprise to him. He has done all he could to not let it show. But now, his fear for her laid bare some of what he has been trying so hard to hide from her. It’s a twisted thought, but maybe he needed a reminder of what her loss would do to him to make him realize that if something were to happen and he had never been honest to both her and himself, he would have regretted it forever.

He can hear her rummaging in her pack, looking for something. After a few moments of deliberation, he has to acknowledge that his fear for her has exposed him anyway, and he speaks again, his voice low.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” He pauses, thinking about how to best phrase his truth. “What are you thinking?” He can never tell.

She doesn’t answer right away. But when she does, he notices that she has already discarded any attempts at pretence. He is relieved to hear that her voice comes out clear and strong.

“I don’t know what I should think. Probably that it makes sense for you to worry when you think an ally might be in danger.”

Solas has to stop himself from snorting in disbelief. Is that really what she thinks? She must know that he is hardly so indifferent, even if she can’t quite gage the true extent of his infatuation.

“That seems rather practical.” He tries to make the sarcasm in his voice clear. “Is that what you see?”

She huffs, slightly exasperated. “Well, what else is there?” She clearly means it as a rhetorical question, but he sees through her at this moment. She seems to have talked herself into believing that the reason for this distance he usually keeps between them is that he actually doesn’t care for her. The thought sends a jolt of hope through his stomach. She really has no idea; or maybe that is just easier to deal with than the thought that he might care, but that there’s something else beneath, something real, that she can’t see and which constitutes a darker reason for his seeming detachment.

He turns his head and looks at her. He can’t quite find the words. How to tell her the truth without telling her the truth? His conflict must have shown on his face, because her expression changes from annoyed frustration to something less sharp. She searches his face for an answer when he still doesn’t speak, and after a few long moments, she seems to accept that she’s been lying to herself in an attempt to make his rejection easier to bear.

“Why never tell me?” Her voice is low, and there’s such tenderness in her expression, he finds he has to look away to keep himself steady. He could allow himself to call it mere ‘infatuation’ when his heart would beat a little too fast whenever she’d get close, or when he felt a youthful nervousness at her small touches, as long as he never let himself think about how close to giving in he really is. The hurt that is clear in her eyes now has disarmed him however, stripped him of the last layer of pretence that he had left to cover himself in.

He looks back at the darkening sky to escape her searching look. He fears that he might throw his arms around her right here and now.

“There are many good reasons to not let this get any further-” But she interrupts him.

“ ’Let this get any further?’ Further than what? Nothing’s happened! You never let it. For some reason or another.” She mumbles the last words under her breath. Her obvious impatience at his rather half-hearted attempts at mystery makes him smile, in spite of himself.

“I thought it might be more obvious that I’m forcing this distance, rather than there being a genuine wish for it.” He still can’t keep himself from grinning, as he looks at her out of the corner of his eyes, trying to gage for her reaction.

Her eyes are cast down, and she blushes a little at his words. Is she really thinking the same? Has she really let herself get this far? The thought makes him want to shout for joy. He never let his wish that she might see something more than an ally take hold of him.

She speaks after a moment, apparently suddenly very interested in examining her knees.

“I guess it was easier to convince myself you didn’t-” She can’t quite get the words across her lips. “You know. Care.”

He has suspected it. But hearing her speak the words now, seeing how much it costs her to admit to this unspoken thing between them, puts another dimension to it all. He sits up and turns to face her fully. He takes her hand in both of his, intertwining her fingers with his.

“Don’t ever say that. Don’t ever think that.” His voice is low and quiet again. He means to show her how serious he is. And it’s then that he realizes that he has been in too deep for too long already; it strikes him how little it took to break his resolve.

She looks up at him again. It seems to take her a few moments to comprehend the subtle meaning of his words. But when she does, she smiles. Her face lights up with joy as if an unpleasant weight that has been pressing down on her shoulders is unexpectedly lifted from her.  

She lets him pull her up to her feet. When she stands, he places a small kiss on each of her palms, and he smiles quietly back at her.

They take their time as they walk back to camp through the darkening forest.

He never lets go of her hand.

Harry’s Actual Dialogue

“Excuse me, waiter?”

“Has my boyfriend arrived yet? His name is Louis. He’s very small.”

“No? Okay.”

“He should be here…I’ll text him.”

Boo Bear..where r u? All the love, Sugar Bear .x

“That kale-dodging, Peter Pan motherfuckin hoe better have left the house by now.”

“Is that h-”

“Wait, no. That’s just a three year-old on a scooter.”




“Do you remember what I said to you when you told me you were a lesbian?”
“’Thank god you finally said it’?”
“After that.”
“…’You better find a girl who deserves you’.”
“Yes! That! And this might be so shocking to you, but a murderous vampire isn’t what I had in mind!!”

Carmilla + Favorite Familial Relationship: Laura Hollis+Dad (requested by @bi-dominusrex)

[Send me a fandom and a number]


“is that your way of comforting me?” “maybe”

this was supposed to be some kind of zombie apocalypse/the walking dead au requested by @sigh–onara but honestly i don’t even know anymore