go go gothic

epic fiction or gothic fiction? novella or prose poetry? modernism or post-modernism? dramatic monologue or soliloquy? foreshadowing or flashback? paradox or nemesis? imagism or symbolism? reliable narrator or unreliable narrator? stream of consciousness technique or iceberg theory? understatement or pathetic fallacy? 

highway rest stop -  haunted places [1/5]

after hours on the highway all the turn offs start to look the same, the neon lights blurring into one long migraine. eventually you have to give in to sleep but where? one mile later you reach it, another one of many odd roadside hotels. the clerk gazes a little too intently at you as you fill in the guest book, her eyes hold some hunger that the old cigarette in her mouth is clearly not satisfying… after the cool wind and bright lights of the road the hallway is unsettlingly dark and humid, the static buzz of tv sets is loud in your ears and just as you are about to drift to sleep between the uncomfortable sheets the feeling that someone is watching you grows…

4

YohaDia phone backgrounds (。・//ε//・。)

requested by anon

gothic-princess-witch  asked:

I have a prompt request. You once mentioned that after Hawke and Fenris get back together, Donnic and Sebastian confront Hawke and ask him about his intentions toward their friend. Would you be willing to write more about their conversation?

The game was just winding down as he walked in the door.

“So that’s seven for Donnic, two for the abomination,” Fenris said. There was a warm, relaxed amusement in Fenris’s voice as he counted up the night’s wins, and Hawke paused at the sitting room’s threshold to watch him. The elf’s smile was not such a rare thing these days, but it remained a sight to behold.

“I’ll pay you back,” Anders said, and he sounded a little defensive. Donnic shrugged.

“We can call it a wash,” he said. “After what you did for my shoulder sprain last week – “

“That’s not the way it works and you know it.”

“I’ll cover it,” Varric offered. He tossed the coin on the table as he rose. “Come on, Blondie. Walk me back to the Hanged Man.”

“I can cover my own debts,” Anders grumbled, but he rose as well, and pushed in his chair, and froze when he saw Hawke in the doorway. He had had trouble meeting Hawke’s eyes over the last few weeks. Hawke caught an expression of surprise, displeasure, and unhappiness before the blond looked away.

“I’m a little early,” Hawke said. “Don’t rush off on my account.”

“If I lose any more money, Aveline will skin me alive,” Donnic said. “Best to quit now.”

Hawke stepped aside so that Anders could pass through the door, and frowned at the other mage’s retreating back until Varric thumped him in the belly.

“I know that look,” Varric said. “Don’t let him get to you. He’s…moody.”

“It’s been weeks since – “

“I’ll handle it,” the dwarf insisted. The mansion’s front door slammed as Anders let himself out, and Varric shook his head. “He’ll get over it,” he promised. “Drinks at the Hanged Man tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Hawke said, though he continued to frown. “I’ll be there.”

“See you, then. And stop frowning.”

“We’re just getting cleaned up,” Donnic said. “You know if we don’t help he’ll leave it here for weeks.”

Fenris, counting his wins, didn’t look up. “I fail to see how it’s your business how long I leave it,” he murmured. He was still smiling – a small, pleased expression. Hawke liked seeing it.

Donnic said, “Hawke, help me with the dishes,” and Hawke shrugged, and pushed away from the door, and followed him into the kitchen.

Over the years, Fenris had allowed Hawke to do repairs to the mansion when necessary. He’d allowed Donnic to come in and tidy up when the guard badgered about it enough. But there was a definite difference in his livingspace since Danarius’s death that marked a turning point in his thoughts – the moment when the mansion had stopped being a mere shelter and became his home. The kitchen was tidy when they walked in, if still sparsely decorated. Merill had provided the curtains and the potted plants in the window. The chipped dishes were put away in the cabinets, the floor was swept, and the counters were free of clutter.

Hawke took up a (clean) dish rag and took his place at the sink. “I’ll dry,” he offered, and Donnic set the water running. Sebastian came in with the rest of the dishes from the snacks the guys had helped themselves to during the game, and he busied himself with them, putting away leftovers when there was enough, scraping what wasn’t into the garbage bin. Donnic washed the dishes. Hawke dried them and put them neatly in the little drying rack Aveline had bought for the elf.

“Fenris seems happy these days,” Donnic said idly, as he used his thumbnail to scrub at something caked-on.

Hawke grunted. It took him several moments before he realized he was supposed to answer.

“Happiness looks good on him,” he answered at last.

“And you two,” Donnic said. He handed him a dish, made sure to catch Hawke’s eye, and met his frown with a smile. “You’ve gotten very…close.”

“We’ve always been close.”

“Right, of course,” Donnic said, and began to scrub the next dish, and ignored the way Hawke was staring at him.

“The thing is,” Sebastian said, “Fenris is at an important moment of growth in his life. He’s been through the gauntlet of pain, and it is time for a new chapter to begin in his life. One of happiness, fulfillment.”

Hawke turned his stare on him. He said, slowly, “I think you should say whatever it is you’re trying to say.”

“Well, I know you two were physical once before. That that was years ago, and sometimes the body gets cravings…”

“What Sebastian is trying to say,” Donnic interjected, as the dish rag slowly began to tear in Hawke’s clenched hands, “Is that we both just want to be sure you aren’t promising Fenris anything you aren’t really willing to give.”

Maker’s balls!” Hawke said. He threw the rag down. “I’ve been in love with the man for six bloody years – what more do you want from me?”

Donnic lifted his hands. Sebastian said, “It’s just that we want to be sure you aren’t – however noble your intentions – trying to press an advantage you shouldn’t. Are you planning to commit – oh, now you’re standing very close, aren’t you?”

Hawke said, “Get to the point.”

“It’s not a bad thing, really – wanting to know how you feel,” Sebastian said.

“Fenris is our friend. We want be sure we understand what your intentions are,” Donnic clarified. Hawke began to growl – low, menacing.

Neither of them backed down.

After they left, sometime later, Fenris cornered Hawke in the sitting room – leaning over the chair in which the mage sat, with his hands on either arm rest, effectively pinning Hawke where he was.

“So,” Fenris murmured, that smile playing at his lips, his eyes meeting Hawke’s without difficulty, gaze warm and confident. “You plan to love me for the rest of my life, do you? Spend every waking moment fixed solely on the acquisition of my happiness?”

Hawke frowned at him. He said, “You shouldn’t listen in on other people’s private conversations.” Fenris lifted a brow.

“Do you intend to lecture me?” the elf asked. “Or would you rather join me upstairs? I have my own intentions, tonight.”