f(x) [2]


Originally posted by totheskyirise

sm entertainment will be holding a large scale workshop on jeju island with nine hundred or more staff members and a total of one hundred or so sm artists (from groups such as snds, exo, etc.) attending. this will be a workshop similar to the one held in hawaii last august. the workshop will be held from june 19th - 21st.

a quick note in regards to shinee and whether or not they’d be able to attend: it is unlikely that key and taemin will be able to attend due to their ongoing personal schedules (ie: key participating in filming for his drama and taemin preparing for his solo comeback / concert over in japan.) onew and minho will depend on whether or not they’ve started to film their dramas yet. jonghyun will likely depend on personal decision as, after his concert this sunday, he’ll be free from another schedule until the start of july. (source)

ravenshadows08  asked:

In The Moment Kiss, Breathtaking kiss. (Yes I will take two please. In Fenhawk.)

She lies on a bed not her own. On her side, hand under her pillow, the other playing with the loose threads of the blanket. It’s the third night in a row she’s turned down Varric’s offer of drinks. Did you think you mattered, Hawke? She sits up in the bed, runs a hand through her hair. She rests her elbow on a raised knee. She reaches out, over the nightstand, and the candle flickers to life underneath her palm. She rolls her hand back forth, lighting the candle and snuffing it out, lighting the candle and snuffing it out. Did you think anything you ever did mattered?

Carver was getting anxious, itchy, restless to be back with the Wardens. It had taken so much convincing to get him to leave in the first place. Aveline had practically thrown him over her shoulder. You couldn’t even save your city. She chews at her thumb, biting the loose skin. Lit, unlit. She tastes iron, looks at the blood pooling around her nail. Lit, unlit. How could you expect to strike down a god? She’d need to get to Adamant quickly, make sure that those Wardens were safe from Corypheus’s influence. Make sure that they could never fall prey to such a thing again.

Her hands drop to her lap as she crosses her legs, leans against the headboard. The candle stays lit this time. She’d have to write home, and soon – before leaving Skyhold. Fenris is going to die, just like your family, and everyone you ever cared about. Her hands fist in the blanket around her ankles. She bites at her bottom lip and straightens her back. She’d need to be away from him for longer. She slips from the bed, wraps arms around herself as she begins to pace. You’re a failure, and your family died knowing it.

She leans against the wall, cold stone at her back, sinks to the floor. Pulling her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs. One foot over the other, making herself as small as possible. Her chin rests in the space between her knees, her fingers pull at her tunic. Almost ten years without having not been without him for more than a day or two. Even after… after – they had done their best to see each other. Awkward and fumbling, but still wanting. Still needing.

That feeling has never left. It’s a void in her chest, an ache where her heart should be. Anxious, itchy, restless to be back at his side. Carver’s letters sit on the desk, still waiting for her reply. She’d have to find more parchment, their fastest runner. Not to where she’s hidden Carver in Antiva, but to Fenris in Kirkwall. She stretches out her legs as far as they’ll go, slumps where she sits, palms against the floor. She can picture his face. His reaction to her letter.

He would have that knot between his brows, the one that tells her he’s thinking. His nose would scrunch together as he makes up his mind. His mouth souring downwards as he finishes it. His ears would twitch in his anger, go flat in sadness. She jumps to her feet at the knock at her door. Panicked and hurried things, “I know you’re not sleeping,” Varric’s muffled voice says, “open up!”

Hawke hurries to the door, undoes the latch, pulls it open. Varric immediately doubles, his hands on his knees, panting as he catches his breath. “Tavern, Hawke. Time to go to the tavern!” Hawke shakes her head.

“I already told you Varric, I’m not in the mood –”

“Not up for debate,” he says as he grabs her hand, tugs her forward. In naught but an old tunic and leggings with hole at the knees, Hawke’s bare feet pad along cold stone. Skyhold wind sweeps around her, unleashes a rash of gooseflesh on her skin. Her breath fogs in the air and she races to keep up with Varric. Only at the door of the tavern does he let go of her hand. With a flourishing sweep, he pushes it open.

It’s what she expects. Loud laughter, people talking over one another, the band in the background. Drink upon drink, spilling on the floor. Brightly lit, warm and cozy. Varric has to practically push her in. “I found her!” He calls out. The tavern goes silent as people look over their shoulders, looking at her. She shrinks under her gaze, and only Varric’s hand on her back keeps her from turning and running.

A chair creaks as it moves backwards, sliding against the floor as he stands. “They didn’t know what room you were in,” Varric says, “I found him wandering the grounds. It’s all the yelling guards that got my attention.” He’s wide-eyed and staring at her, just as she is frozen to the spot she stands. He needs a haircut. Did he buy a new cloak? Where did the cut on his chin come from?

“Fenris,” she says. They both move at the same time. The chair clatters backwards as it falls, pushed away from him, rounding the table, running towards each other with arms outstretched. She practically leaps into him, winding her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck. He catches her, hands splayed on her back, spinning her around with him. They have their eyes closed as they cling to each other amongst whoops and yells, the sound of tankards hitting wood, cheering from the crowd.

Fenris squeezes her tightly. “I couldn’t wait,” he whispers to her, “I had to see you.” She sinks back slowly to her feet, her fists still wound in his cloak. Looking at him, she finds all her breath is snatched away. He reaches upwards, wipes the tears from her face as she breaks into a smile, and begins to laugh. Bouncing on her feet, shaking him with her. He’s swept up in the laughter as he cups her face in his hands, plants a messy kiss against her lips. Again and again, noses pressed together, catching laughter in each other’s mouths.

The others are hollering, Sera cupping her hands to shout, “get a room!” Hawke is instantly turning, pulling him along with her as she runs towards the door. She doesn’t need to be told twice. They spill out into the night, the tavern door closing behind them, leaving the fires and people behind. She stumbles in her steps, takes him down with her into a snow bank. Laughing as he pushes himself up, white hair like snowfall around him.

She looks at him, the green that shines. She reaches up with cold fingers, with that fogged breath between them, brushes thumbs against his cheeks. “It’s really you,” she says. He smiles as he leans down, forehead touching against forehead. He settles his weight against her, and she doesn’t even feel the snow. Underneath all those stars he kisses her, steals her breath away for the second time that night.