him and that lathe

WRONG - MAFIA AU [Chanyeol]

PART 2

Genre: Angst, Romance

Words: 884

Warnings: Violence, swearing & slight nswf content, [please remember that organized crime is a serious issue and not comparable with fiction]

Gif is not mine – credits to owner

Inspired by: Wrong – Zayn ft. Kehlani

 ,,You’re looking in the wrong place for my love,
Don’t think because you’re with me this is real’’’

                                                           -

His eyes were dark and his black hair was a mess on his head. His lips were sucking on a cigarette. The living room was filled with smoke but you could still make out a flowerily fragrance that did not belong to you. His shirt was unbuttoned so you know something had happened between him and god knows whom. Chanyeol sat on a lathe, his legs crossed.

His father and your mother were both big bosses of some organized crime. They wanted to connect their business so they arranged a marriage between you two. At first you hated it to be with him. He was a player and hot-headed and the worst thing was, that you saw yourself in him. You both quickly agreed to do whatever the f*ck you both wanted to do and see the marriage just as something that was dealt with on papers. You had lovers and he had lovers but things still happened when both of you were alone at home. At first it was all physical but last Valentine’s Day Chanyeol actually bought you a bouquet of roses: ‘’It’s a tradition and you are still my wife, don’t misunderstand it, okay?’’ he had growled angrily but that was the moment something in you had started to like him. Not physically but emotionally.

Now you were standing there after some work you had done for your mother and Chanyeol sat there with that innocent but yet sharp face.

‘’Who was here?’’ you asked, your voice was shaking and you tried to contain yourself. I mean, you were not in a position to complain about anything… but still.

‘’I had some lady’s over.’’ He shrugged the situation off, which made you even angrier.

‘’Well, I don’t want any woman to come here again.’’ You suddenly busted out. You were surprised, you actually sounded really… jealous.

‘’Where is the problem? I had some issues with our rivals in a casino and as a punishment I took two of their girls with me, who gladly followed…’’ A big smirk appeared on his handsome face and you felt your heart starting to race like a rollercoaster.

‘’F*ck, (Y/N), you are actually acting like you are in love with me or something.’’ He added now, laughing with his deep voice that sent chills down your spine.

Your eyes widened and you felt your cheeks becoming hot. You could not believe what you just had heard. When Chanyeol noticed that you were not laughing with him, he stopped abruptly and stared at your reddened face. ‘’Unless…’’ he said confused: ‘’you are actually in love with me-‘’

That was enough, you clenched your fists and with an: ‘’f*ck yourself!’’ you turned around and stormed off. You could hear Chanyeol scream: ‘’Hey! (Y/N), wait!’’ and for a second you thought the door opened again and he would come out. But to be honest you did not care anymore. It was cold outside and you were running around alleys to get away from home and to clear out your mind. How dare he? How dare he to buy you flowers and sleep with you and call you his wife when all he did was sleep with other girls in your apartment. Maybe you should get a new lover too and as revenge you will just call him over when Chanyeol and you had dinner? You huffed in annoyance. As if you could do that! You were head over heels in love with your ‘’husband’’. You cuddled more into your jacket. Dark alleys were not your favorite place to be. Suddenly you heard a dark voice. ‘’There is she, Park’s cute little wife, let’s get her as a revenge for what he did to me in that casino…’’

You froze in shock. You had no weapon with you; You only did paperwork for your mother today. You turned around but it was too late. You felt something strong pulling you up and covering your mouth. You wanted to free yourself so you wriggled, but he was too strong. Suddenly you heard a familiar voice and it screamed your name. Your eyes widened and then you saw it. A tall figure was running down the alley.  You wanted to shout Chanyeol’s name but it was only muffled. When he realized what was happening his eyes ripped opened and he screamed: ‘’HEY!’’ he started to run faster and the man who held you said: ‘’F*ck boss, he found us!’’. With that he pulled you further into the alley. You heard car doors opening and you were pushed inside. Without turning around to look who your abductors were, you only pulled yourself up to look out of the window to see what Chanyeol was doing. The engine started to roll, but he was still running. ‘’(Y/N), no, Babe!’’ he was screaming. It was the first time he called you that. You felt yourself tearing up. In shock you pushed yourself closer to the window so he could see you. His face was red from running but he still kept going for you. ‘’If you dare to touch her I will kill you!’’ he shouted.

The last thing you remembered was the face of the man you loved, not giving up, before something hard hit you on the head and you passed out.

wet

This prompt from @tel-abelas-mofo has been sitting in my inbox for months and I finally found the motivation and inspiration to write something for it. I’m so excited to share my first official prompt fill with you all!

also shout out to the wife @fadedforyou for helping me edit this and get it looking the way i want to ♥


Shaera was always a wanderer, even when moving from place to place as a little Dalish girl she could never stay at the camp for very long without getting the urge to explore. It was a drumming in her ears, the pound of her heart, her racing thoughts that wouldn’t calm or quiet unless she was on the move. No one in the clan ever questioned where she went or why, they trusted her to look after herself and they trusted that she would always come back; of course, back then she didn’t have guards, soldiers, and companions fussing after her constantly like she does now.


So, it became customary for Shaera to wander away from camp after everyone had gone to sleep, if not to satisfy her anxious tendencies then to at least enjoy a moment alone.

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Companion Reactions To: The Butterfly Sword Enchantment

So Mod Katalyna and Mod Sarah were talking about the Butterfly Sword from DA:O and thought, “What if Iron Bull was given the Butterfly Sword?” and it snowballed from there, so here’s our nutty Skype conversation, edited for you all to enjoy. It has spawned a new tag, as well, in the event that this sort of thing happens again (which it probably will, let’s be honest. #mods are cray, after all!).

Dagna: She gets to work immediately on figuring out the enchantment. She wants it so bad. Once she figures it out, she will happily enchant any and everything the Herald wants enchanted with it. But the first thing she does with it (to make sure it works, of course) is enchant Harritt’s favorite hammer. He gets so very mad that she finally agrees to remove the enchantment.

Cassandra: She scoffs in disgust at the enchantment and rolls her eyes when Bull wants to take the Butterfly Sword along. “It’s an eyesore,” she comments, but it doesn’t stop him. If Romanced: the Inquisitor presents to her a rose with the enchantment, and she scoffs, but secretly likes it and keeps it in her room.

Blackwall: He’s kind of put off by it. He thinks it’s not particularly manly. If Romanced: the Inquisitor enchants all of his Grey Warden armor and stuff with the Butterfly enchantment after finding out the truth. He remarks that it’s one way to keep him from using it again, and she snarks that maybe he won’t lie to her again.

Iron Bull: This is the happiest damn qunari in the world; he thinks it’s beautiful. He revels in killing dragons with it. If Romanced: the Inquisitor has Dagna enchant armor made from a dragon they killed for him. He almost starts crying when he sees the Inquisitor’s present to him. “You’re the best, Kadan!” he weeps.

Sera: Sera gets all rights to the enchantment taken away from her because she tries to enchant the ENTIRETY OF SKYHOLD with it. And nearly blows the whole thing up in the process. If Romanced: a romanced Inquisitor enchants their roof on the tavern with it for her, instead. They proceed to bang on it. Multiple times.

Cole: He would like the enchantment because it makes some people really happy. He gives butterfly enchanted things to people when they’re feeling down. Sometimes they’re completely random items, like a bar of soap or part of a broken earring. And sometimes they’re meaningful things to the person, and then the enchantment because an actual, substantial way to help. If Cole is made more human and dates Maryden, he gives her a silk butterfly with the enchantment. She wears it in her hair when she performs.

Varric: He says he’s worried that it’ll attract LITERALLY EVERYTHING hostile to come attack them because it’s so bright. Grumbles every time something with the rainbow butterfly enchantment is used as a result. If he didn’t fear for his life, he’d consider having the backs of Cassandra’s copies of Swords and Shields enchanted with it to troll her. Or maybe just the last page, but he finds a way to hide that the last page is enchanted until she actually turns to the page.

Dorian: He eyes it in disdain and wrinkles his nose at it. If In A Romance With Iron Bull: “It’s so you, Amatus.” he says as dryly as possible. Bull grins and pulls him in for a tight hug. “Thanks, Kadan!” he replies cheerfully. If In A Romance With The Inquisitor: The Inquisitor enchants something naughty with it (like a dildo) and gives it to Dorian as a gift. Or better yet, he enchants a small likeness of Dorian with it! Because this enchantment literally IS Dorian.

Vivienne: She just rolls her eyes. She thinks it’s gaudy. She does her best to avoid it and generally just doesn’t let herself get sucked into all this shit. She’s too Orlesian for this.

Solas: He rolls his eyes because he thinks it’s a dumb enchantment that serves no real purpose other than to be ugly. He stays out of the shenanigans, mostly. Low Approval: the enchantment is mysteriously removed from all of Skyhold periodically. No one is quite sure why or how. It doesn’t stay gone long, of course. If Romanced: The Inquisitor has all of his underwear enchanted with the butterfly enchantment after he breaks up with her. It shines through his pants. If he tries to go commando to avoid the sparkles, everyone knows he’s going commando. Any attempts he makes to get rid of the enchanted underwear and replace it results in the new underwear also receiving the enchantment. He can’t escape it. POST-TRESPASSER: an Inquisitor who romanced Solas and enchants his underwear when he breaks up with her, and says “Var lath vir suledin,” to him in Trespasser returns to her room at some point to find something of hers that had personal meaning between the two of them (like one of his paint brushes or something) has mysteriously been given the butterfly enchantment. And she laughs through her tears because it means he’s watching out for her and he still loves her. (Mod Katalyna says: “Let me rip out your heart, Fenris style!”)

Leliana: She gets a hood for Dagna to enchant and gives it to agents who fail missions. It comes to be called “the hood o’ shame.”

Josephine: She likes it and gets like a teacup enchanted to be sparkly and spawning imaginary butterflies. Or her inkwell. Or both. If Romanced: The Herald gives her a sparkly rainbow butterfly rose, and she giggles endlessly and keeps it on her desk where she greets dignitaries. When people ask about it, she blushes. And if the Inquisitor is there at the time, they just kiss her blushing cheek and neither of them explains a thing.

Cullen: He spends a long time trying to ignore all the butterfly shit. When his soldiers start getting their swords enchanted, he has to put his foot down. It is so unsubtle that he can’t allow it because it risks lives. But he has to relent and allow the practice blades to be enchanted with it because the soldiers grumble about it. Morale goes up. If Romanced: The Inquisitor enchants a tiny pebble with it and leaves it somewhere in his office, just to mess with him. And he throws it out his window. So she replaces it and makes it harder to get at. It gets thrown out the window, too. Eventually, there’s a small mountain of these fucking pebbles on the mountainside outside Cullen’s window. He starts to look out his window at this mini mountain of butterfly pebbles while she’s away and miss her, hoping she’s safe. She’d always leave one just before she left on a mission. He’d keep it on his desk (once he located the damn thing) until she got back, at which point he would make a show of throwing it from the battlements to land at her feet. All her companions would tease her about it as they approach the bridge into Skyhold. “Look out, Inquisitor, Cullen has it in for your feet!”

Krem: He sees the sword before Bull does and thinks “Oh NO, when the Chief sees this…” He tries to hide, but of course, when Bull sees it, he easily finds him in desire to show him. “KREM, COME CHECK OUT THIS BADASS SWORD OVER HERE!” And he’s stuck listening to Bull coo over a rainbow sword for the next three weeks straight. Krem knows Bull is gonna be sighing over (and probably sexually stroking) that sword for weeks, and he just doesn’t want to deal with it and tries to run away but can’t escape.

BONUS:

If you capture Florianne instead of killing her, part of her punishment (no matter what you decide to do with her) is to always be wearing something with this enchantment. Because it is so completely not fashionable, and for no other reason.

Corifypiss appears written in the butterfly enchantment on Venatori correspondence that makes its way to Corypheus (or his general) courtesy of Sera, Leliana, and Dagna.

Healing Hands (Solavellan Fic)

[This story is dedicated to the lovely @dexukiart. Happy Birthday, beautiful! <3]



The War Room meeting seemed to dragged on for hours as the days to the ball at the Winter Palace drew closer. Revas grew weary of going over the tedious rules of etiquette, what to say and what not to say, the rules of playing the Game, and learning the various dances. She sighed heavily as she made her way to her quarters. The elf could feel the nagging headache growing in the back of her skull.

She made her way up the seemingly endless stairs to her room. She just wanted a nice hot bath and her bed. When the elf entered the room, she was pleasantly surprised at what was awaiting her on the other side. Solas was sitting elegantly upon her couch, his nose buried in a tome about the Fade. The tall elf looked up from the pages and spotted the Inquisitor.

“Vhenan.”, he gave her a smile as he closed the tome, setting it aside before rising from the couch. He sauntered over to her and placed a chaste kiss upon her forehead,“How did the War Counsel go?”

Revas felt so much lighter in Solas’s presence. Maybe there was still hope for this evening yet. “Stressing as usual. I simply want to get this ball over with.”, she sighed again, rubbing the back of her neck lightly to try and relieve the tension. Solas seemed to notice her discomfort and luckily for Revas…he already had a relaxing evening planned.

Solas offered his hand to the silver-haired elf, “Come with me, Vhenan. Let me take care of you this evening. You have been under a significant amount of stress as of late.” He wanted to be that release. That escape for her. If only he could treat her as she deserved like in the days of Arlathan, but such thoughts would need to be ignored for now…tonight was about Revas.

She glanced at his hand before taking it within her own, intertwining their fingers. Revas gave him a loving smile, “You spoil me, Solas. I could use a peaceful evening for once.” Solas simply chuckled and began to lead her towards the bed.

Revas could feel her pulse rising and the blood rushing to her cheeks because she had no idea what her lover had planned as they neared the bed. He let go of her hand and gestured towards the soft sheets with his slender hand, “Undress and then lie down, Vhenan” His voice was low and almost commanding.

She could feel a shiver of excitement travel down her spine. “Alright.”, her voice couldn’t help, but sound breathless. Solas smirked before turning his back to her and walking to the other side of the room. Revas raised an eyebrow. She was always intrigued by the elf’s mysteriousness. She swallowed hard as she began to undress.

As Revas undressed, Solas retrieved a bottle of oil that he had personally asked Vivienne to purchase for him when she made a trip to Val Royeaux as a favor. He knew Revas had been under a lot of stress and he could tell that her muscle were tense and sore from the long hours she worked to keep this Inquisition going. Solas intended on making this evening stress-free and very comfortable for Revas because she deserved it.

When he returned to the bed, his breath hitched at the sight of a nude Revas lying on the bed. Her cheeks were beautifully flushed as she looked at him with a curious yet heated gaze. He gave her a soft smile, “Lie down on your stomach, emma lath. Tonight is only about you.”

Revas could feel the heat spread throughout her body from the tips of her ears to her toes. She did as he commanded and laid down upon her stomach. She could feel the bed dip as he climbed onto it. Solas straddled her legs gently and he opened the bottle of oil, rubbing it onto his hands.

The apostate began to knead the back of Revas’s neck with slight pressure, making sure not to bruise her. He could tell her neck was quite tight from stress. He summoned mana to his fingers to add to the warming sensation of the oil as he massaged her neck before trailing down to her shoulders which he discovered was just as tense.

Revas couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped her lips. His hands upon her simply felt divine. The Dalish elf didn’t know she needed a massage this badly until now. His touch was literally like magic. Her eyes fluttered closed as his hands worked the kinks out of her neck and shoulders.

Solas smirked at the soft sounds of approval she was making. He was pleased that she was already beginning to relax under his touch. After he thoroughly gave her neck and shoulders attention, he turned his focus to her back. He put a little more pressure upon her back when he felt the various number of knots in her muscles. He frowned at how many there were.

Revas made a sound between pain and pleasure as he began to work the knots out of her back. He stilled slightly, “Ir abelas, Vhenan. I didn’t intend to be so rough.” Dear Creators! She loved this man. Revas sighed contently into her pillow before she spoke, “Please continue, ma sa'lath.” Solas chuckled softly at her eagerness for him to continue. “Ma nuvenin”, he replied as he resumed the massage.

After relieving the tension and stress from Revas’s body, he soon joined her side on the bed. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly against his broad chest. Revas gave him a sleepy smile, leaning in to place a soft kiss upon his lips, “Ma serannas, Vhenan…I truly needed that.”

Solas chuckled softly as he ran a hand through her silver tresses, “You’re welcome. I could tell that you have been very tense lately and I thought that a proper massage would help relieve you of your burdens for awhile.” He placed a hand upon her cheek, lightly caressing her skin with his thumb.

Revas smiled and leaned into his touch, “I don’t deserve you, Solas.” She could feel herself slipping into the Fade. She leaned in to give him yet another kiss, “Ar lath ma, Vhenan.” Her blue eyes fluttered closed and she finally succumb to sleep.

He could feel a slight tug at his heart at her words. He placed one more kiss upon her forehead and whispered softly, “No, Vhenan…I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you.” The apostate tightened his hold around Revas’s slender form before he joined her within the Fade.

katalyna-rose  asked:

For DWC! Will you do dad Solas? Please do dad Solas! If not, then Solavellan is great! Ecstasiate: to go into an ecstasy; to cause to become ecstatic

Thank you for the prompt! Sorry this took so long! I saw the prompt in my inbox and got SO EXCITED, but I have no children of my own (yet) nor any young children in my family and I fairly quickly realized how little I knew about how kids behave, etc. Was also terrified to accidentally write something that was horrible parenting as I know nothing about that…. but hopefully this is not too far off.

for @dadrunkwriting 


The Pups of Fen’Harel
Solas/F!Lavellan, Papa Solas, Post-post-Trespasser

The pace of his steady breathing was like a single strand of bright, white light: a rope in the darkness. He held it gently, followed it deeper into mindfulness, grounded by the rhythm of his lungs, expanding and contracting, and the beat of his heart.

(The beat of three hearts, he reminded himself; despite his discipline, the years he had spent in meditation and contemplation, he could not stifle the grin that lifted the corners of his mouth at that thought. A gentle breeze tickled him, but he pushed the sensation away, out of mind, clearing the way for—)

“Papae? Papae? Father!”

Solas opened his eyes, turned his head to the insistent voice behind him. For a boy of only ten years, Nehnis had such presence, always commanding the attention of those around him. Thanduwen said this was typical in first-born children, but it never failed to astound him (all the more when it sometimes wearied him): even among strangers the child was so confident in his charm and wit, wielding both with far more precision than Solas would have thought possible.

(When he was older—and here Solas had to fight back another smile, both out of pride and surrender—when he reached his adolescence, Nehnis would be just like Solas himself had been: cocky and hot-blooded, chasing romance and adrenaline. It was a future he looked towards with curiosity and amusement—and no small measure of dread.)

“What is it, Nehnis?” he asked, unfolding his hands from where they had been cupped together in front of his navel, bringing his palms to rest on his knees.

“The woods here are very lovely, aren’t they, Papae?”

Solas raised an eyebrow at his son, the smile still lingering about his lips. “They are indeed, my son. Now focus on your breathing.”

Solas closed his eyes again, trying to submerge himself back into that serene place, counting his breaths, drawing them out—

Beside him, Nehnis gave an exaggerated sigh. “But don’t you hear all the birds, Papae? Do you think there are any hawks here? Or ravens, like in Mamae’s stories?”

“Hush, Nehnis!” a small voice said. “Papae is meditating! You are bothering him!”

Solas grinned again, both at the chastisement his younger son gave to his elder, and at the raspberry that Nehnis blew in response. He cracked open his eyes and peered back at his sons.

Nehnis had abandoned his meditative stance, and was lying splayed on the ground beside him, face turned up towards the canopy of trees above them. Past him, he could see his youngest son, Eolas, with a scowl still lingering on his features. He looked absurd: his tiny child-like features, pinched, set in an expression far too serious for his age.

Nehnis and Eolas: like night and day. Where Nehnis was bold and adventurous, Eolas was cautious, measured; easily the more well-behaved of the two of them, until he got a question in his head he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around.

He loved them both almost more than he could bear; and even now, with Nehnis misbehaving, he felt his love for them swelling in his chest as if it was threatening to escape from him, overwhelm him. It was entirely uncalled for. Solas tried (often, failed) to bring his sons to meditate with him every morning, and they were no more or less precious and precocious on this particular day than on any other. But it had been the same way when their mother was pregnant with Eolas. Now, as she entered the last few months of her third pregnancy, he felt that same sentimentality returning to him.

The baby would change everything. He knew this. And most of that change, he knew, would be good. But some of it would be difficult—mostly, he suspected, for his sons, who (inevitably) he would be able to spend less time with, lavish less attention upon, once the third child came into their family.

It was making him soft; lenient, when he should have insisted Nehnis finish the meditation, even if he only sat in silence, contemplating the birds and (maybe, if Solas guided him) paying some measure of attention to his breathing.

“Nehnis,” Solas said, his voice full of practiced patience. “Would you like to go look for birds?”

Immediately Nehnis sat up, planting his hands on the ground and leaning towards his father, giving him his most charming face: full of unbridled excitement. “Oh, Papae, can I?”

“Yes. But take your brother with you.”

Nehnis gave another exaggerated sigh, before acquiescing. “Fine. Come on, Eolas.”

Eolas was still sitting in his meditative stance, his back perfectly straight, his knees folded beneath him. He gave his father one of those looks: as though he had betrayed him by the suggestion that he should go play with his older brother.

Their mother kept hoping that as time went on, they would become closer. She still cherished the close bond she shared with her own brother. But five years, at that age, was a long time. Occasionally, Solas regretted waiting so long to have their second child; he wished he had given Nehnis a sibling closer in age. But when Nehnis had been young they had been so stunned by him, enraptured by him, and Solas had been reluctant to bring another child into their lives. He knew it was silly, now, but at the time he had loved his first born so dearly he had been frightened he would not be able to love their second with the same depth.

(He had been staggeringly, stupendously wrong; but it certainly wasn’t the first time that had happened.)

“Go on,” Solas said, gently. “I will find you in a little while.” Then, as Eolas stood up in a huff to follow his brother, “Wait!”

Eolas turned back, Solas beckoned him closer until the small child was standing beside him. Solas placed his hand on the back of his son’s neck, gently guided his head closer and kissed him gently on his brow.

“Ar lath ma, da’vun,” Solas said, quietly.

“Eolas! Come on!” came the impatient cry of his brother behind him in the woods.

Solas shook his head. Then he looked up into Eolas’ face. “Be careful,” he said, sternly. “Look after your brother.”

“I will,” Eolas said, dutifully. There wasn’t a chance in hell that Nehnis would listen to him, but if Eolas thought he was being sent along to supervise, he’d participate more willingly in the bird-watching (or stone collecting, or whatever fancy that took Nehnis at the time).

Solas listened to their young voices fade into the distance until even his perceptive hearing could make out their voices. Then, sighing gently and without opening his eyes, “You can come out, now, Vigilance.”

Without the slightest hesitation, the spirit rose from the bush in which it had been concealing itself. Vigilance shimmered blue in the early morning air; it was hard to say if the spirit was disappointed, or pleased at being discovered. As if the sudden appearance were nothing, he said in a deferential tone, “On dheam, ha’hren.”

The spirit had followed them across the continent for the past few months, appearing not long after they had left their seasonal stay with Clan Lavellan. All of the spirits, of course, knew of Fen’Harel, and his Lady who had thwarted him, but few had become quite so attached to his offspring as Vigilance.

(Nehnis, once, had escaped Vigilance’s attention and paraded off into the woods without his parents knowing. The boy was found quickly, but Vigilance had been so surprised and ashamed that he’d lost track of him that he’d taken it upon himself to shadow Nehnis almost perpetually, as if daring the boy to escape his watchful gaze again. His wife was still not completely convinced that having a spirit of Vigilance mind the children was the best idea, but when they had stayed with Clan Lavellan, Nehnis and Eolas had much more freedom: with a whole Clan to watch them, they were permitted more independence. Now that their family had begun their seasonal sojourn on their own, even she had to admit that it was comforting to have someone else around to mind the children, even if they were a noncorporeal entity.)

“Will you keep an eye on them?” Solas asked Vigilance, his eyes still closed as he tried to sink back into mindfulness.

“Sathem lasa halani, ha’hren. You know how I adore your little puplings,” Vigilance responded. He could feel the energy of the spirit pass him, following the direction in which his sons had run off. “No harm will come to the litter of Fen’Harel on my watch, many though the pups may be… their number increasing with each season…”

“Vigilance,” Solas said in a sharp tone.

“San, ha’hren. I guard over the puplings until ha’hren has finished his morning exercises. I will not permit them to wander far.”



Ar lath ma, da’vun. | I love you, little sun.
On dheam, ha’hren. | Good morning, ha’hren.
Sathem lasa halani, ha’hren. |  Pleased to help, ha’hren.

Poopdeck Pappy

He is far less principled than his son, stealing from Popeye’s bank account and trying to sell water for $5,000 in Death Valley. (To which, Popeye, while pouring water to the parched traveler, tells Poopdeck, “I yam disgustipated wit’ ya!”) There is no love lost between him and Olive Oyl, whom he calls a “lath-legged bean pole.” (This stemmed from Poopdeck slugging Olive when they first met).

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Leave the Night On

Characters: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, (impala) light fluffy smut

Word Count: 1525

Song: Leave the Night On by Sam Hunt as requested by Anon

A/N - back with fluffy/smutty impala Dean… trying to get back in the swing of writing so let me know what you think!


Dean gripped your wrist, pulling you from the sofa and up against his chest. His arms quickly wrapped around you, the lamps from the corner of the motel room softly illuminating his features as he leaned down to brush his lips against yours. Sam was fast asleep on the bed at the back of the room and you smiled as you pulled back from Dean before he deepened the kiss too much, knowing you wouldn’t be able to continue.

He rolled his eyes before they met yours, neither of you tired enough to sleep.

Silently he interlaced his fingers with yours and led you outside, the warm summer air touching your cheeks as he guided you towards the passenger side of the impala. Once the doors were closed behind you both, Dean’s hands held your face, pulling you close and resuming the kiss he started just minutes earlier.

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Dragon Age Trespasser: Dalish Wedding Vows

I have about 7 different requests for this in my inbox. It’s taken me a while to sit and think about this, but I finally have something I believe fits and makes sense.

Of course, a caveat before we start: Elvhen, as it is used in game, is a cipher - not a language. Project Elvhen, on the other hand, is a conlang that I have constructed around this cipher. I like to call it ‘conlang lite,’ or a ‘simulated conlang’ as I can’t really give it the full depth of a “real” conlang without throwing out a lot of work that Bioware has done, and that’s not something I’m willing to do. The purpose of this conlang is to provide more depth to the language, and therefore deepen the fan’s consumption and enjoyment of it.

Given that my project is a conlang, and I am approaching these translations from this point of view - my translation may not be in line with what the developers intended. However, given Patrick Weekes’ explanation on how they use the language, I believe I’m on the right track for what they meant (or tried to imply).

In Trespasser, a Dalish inquisitor who has pursued a romance with Cullen has the chance to choose to marry him. If they do so, they can choose to use Dalish vows instead of chantry vows. In that case, they say these vows to him during the ceremony:

Sylaise enaste var aravel. Lama, ara las mir lath. Bellanaris.

Literally translated, this means: Sylaise blessing our aravel. To time pass, my ambition towards love. Eternity.

It should be noted that aravel would be the word closest to ‘house’ or ‘home’ for most Dalish clans. Therefore, most Dalish phrases that use it can translate aravel to ‘home’ or ‘house.’

Therefore, the full translation, taking into account poetic meaning:

Sylaise’s blessing upon our home. From now on, my purpose is to love you. For eternity.

Freaks and Geeks sentence starters

part 3 of 6
episodes 7 through 9
92 starters
feel free to change gender pronouns
content warning: alcohol mention, sexual themes, violence
[other parts: 1 - 2]

  • “I’m surprised you fit through that door, quite frankly.”
  • “I’m [insert age]. I get confused everyday.”
  • “Is this making any sense at all?”
  • “You know, not everybody in this world has to go to college.”
  • “You know who didn’t go to college? Einstein. Thomas Edison.”
  • “You gotta be careful who you hang out with.”
  • “Once he ran over an old lady, and then he blamed it on his car. He said the accelerator got stuck.”
  • “We had this teacher at our school, and this guy broke into his house, so the teacher shot him.”
  • “Our shop teacher got his hair caught in a lathe, and then he got his whole scalp torn off, and now he has to wear a wig.”
  • “Our shop teacher got his pinky cut off by the radial arm saw. And when they tried to sew it back on, it didn’t fit anymore.”
  • “Um, would you mind showing me the ropes around here?”
  • “If I start bugging you, please, be sure and let me know.”
  • “Every old person thinks they’re so smart. What, there’s, like, no dumb old people?”
  • “I just wanna be older so I can go to bars. Everything fun in the world happens in bars.”
  • “Just ‘cause you got a fake ID, don’t go lording it over the rest of us.”
  • “Dude, I hate astrology. What, everyone born in the same month is gonna have the same life?”
  • “We only kissed once, and it’s not—it’s not a big deal.”
  • “So, is this what having a girlfriend is gonna be like? She’s your best friend and she’s beautiful and you can say and do anything in front of her?”
  • “She’s the kind of woman you could cut the cheese in front of. I mean, you couldn’t be in love with someone if you couldn’t. Think about it.”
  • “You see the way she looks at me? She can barely contain herself.”
  • “I’m the happiest man in the world.”
  • “_____, why can’t you just leave me alone?”
  • “He was dropped on the head as a baby. That’s why we think he’s a bad seed.”
  • “Why do you want a fake ID? So you can go get loaded?”
  • “I’m not gonna be an accessory to this crime.”
  • “Why are we still talking? I want some ribs.”
  • “This is gonna be the best night ever.”
  • “The suspense is killing me.”
  • “You know, we wouldn’t be here without you. So thanks a lot, alright?”
  • “I had a really good time. We should do it again.”
  • “I was just coming to look for you.”
  • “_____, you have no idea what you’re talking about.”
  • “_____, mind your own business, okay?”
  • “I just blew your mind, didn’t I?”
  • “How come you’re not eating?”
  • “I know what’s bugging you. You didn’t want to be lab partners with me.”
  • “You and _____ would make a good couple. I mean, she’s popular and everything, but she needs someone like you. You’d be good for her.”
  • “I can’t do my homework without having a snack first.”
  • “This is what you should do. Find out her schedule and memorize it. That way, you can bump into her and say hi.”
  • “Being lab partners is like being stranded on a desert island. You never know what might happen.”
  • “_____ got detention for flipping off her math teacher.”
  • “I heard _____ punched you in the chest really hard. Oh, whoops, that was me!”
  • “I’m telling you, she’s abnormal. Okay, she eats carrot sticks, and she likes Miss Piggy.”
  • “The Muppets are cool.”
  • “Swedish Chef is kinda cool, but Miss Piggy is lame.”
  • “You can’t have sex with _____. Once you do, you’ll never be the same again.”
  • “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend. What’s his name? What’s he like? I want to know everything, really.”
  • “Nobody who’s "just a friend” sends a single rose.“
  • "It was the worst five dollars I ever spent. And I wish I could get that five dollars back.”
  • “Don’t touch the hair! Stop it!”
  • “Okay, I’ve never really told anyone this before, but I have, like, the hugest crush on him.”
  • “I’m always so nervous around him. I never know what to say. It’s not like with you. You’re so easy to talk to.”
  • “You see, _____, nothing about you and me should ever be rushed. I made that mistake before. But I’m not gonna make it with you. Because we got time. We got all the time in the world.”
  • “We were made for each other.”
  • “You wanna make out or something?”
  • “All guys wanna make out. But I just want to hold you.”
  • “What’s better than this?”
  • “I don’t need another friend. I already have two.”
  • “Do you ever think about heavy stuff?”
  • “I knew that you were like me.”
  • “Are you stoned?”
  • “Don’t be such a pig.”
  • “I’ll figure it out. It’s not a big deal.”
  • “What is that? Is that supposed to be funny?”
  • “That was the biggest come on I’ve ever seen. She was practically feeling you up.”
  • “This is my chance. You know how important this is to me.”
  • “You had to go and quote the Star Wars, didn’t you?”
  • “In the cafeteria today, the school mascot fell and broke his arm. It was pretty scary.”
  • “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I just had to see your face.”
  • “I don’t wanna get you in trouble.”
  • “Do you think there’s a subliminal message in there somewhere?”
  • “Breaking up with him was like a nightmare.”
  • “Just be careful with her because she’s a liar. She likes to screw people over.”
  • “If you feel yourself start to fall asleep, pull out a nose hair. It’ll wake you right up.”
  • “This place is turning into a cult.”
  • “Could you give me a ride home?”
  • “Don’t do it. Please.”
  • “So… You gonna let me know what’s going on?”
  • “It’s just… It’s going too fast, you know? I need my space.”
  • “You don’t keep going steady with a boy just to be nice. If it’s not gonna work out, you need to muster your courage and let him know.”
  • “You were supposed to be here an hour ago. I don’t like having to wait around. I had other stuff to do.”
  • “Remember, you have to do what’s right for you.”
  • “If there’s anything else you want to talk over, I’m always here for you.”
  • “I can’t be seen with you.”
  • “I just don’t want you to get too hung up on him, just in case, you know, he won’t go out with you or something.”
  • “Please don’t break it. It costs like six hundred dollars.”
  • “Now’s not the time to get all weepy.”
  • “I knew I shouldn’t have told you anything. You know, from now on, just stay out of my life, please.”
  • “If you’re mad at me, this is a really obnoxious way of showing it.”
  • “I can’t understand anything that you’re saying.”
  • “I sort of thought that maybe you and me should take a break for a while. What do you think of that idea?”
  • “Who the hell are you?”

anonymous asked:

First of all, I love your blog :) If you still do one shots, what about post TWS Steve finding out Bucky had a Daddy kink when Tony playfully calls Bucky said name. Steve teases him, and Bucky acts on it, showing his Omega who's boss?

So I’m really trying to get through that surrogacy fic, but I heard daddy!kink and I’m here in a flash. This shit is my jam. Hope you enjoy! - Astro

Keep reading

Her favorite thing about his body are his lips. They’re full, soft, and beautiful. They stretch so rarely into a smile, more inclined to twitch down into a disapproving scowl. He smirks every now and then. But oh when he smiles, she just….

Her heart sings and her body lightens as the laughter bubbles from him as Varric tells him a story of Hawke’s escapades. The smile dances over his face, stretching those lips, crinkling the skin by his eyes, his shoulders bobbing with the laughter and happiness that she wants him to always feel.

Her darling heart is a serious man, a man who wants to be playful and to poke fun, but is weighed down by silent and secret weights. She wants to reach down and pull those weights off, to see him light and beautiful and laughing. 

But then he laughs and it’s almost like those weights have been temporarily set to the side and she sees him and not the weight. Beautiful, laughing, and amazingly cheeky her Solas is. 

She walks into the room and his eyes brighten even more. Her heart clenches as he holds a hand out for her take. She continues to him and bends down, pressing her lips to his, tasting the lingering smile on his mouth. He startles for a moment, mostly surprised at her boldness in front of Varric and Dorian, but both men have seen much more explicit…of heard it even. 

“My heart,” he breathes as she pulls away, the words a kiss from those lips to her heart. She caresses his head and kisses his forehead.

“Ar lath ma, vhenan,” she tells him, and just for a moment, she feels the weights slowly shift off of his shoulders. 

In Dreams

Ah, so this…is something I wrote around the time Trespasser was first released and it’s just kind of been sitting in my folder uselessly. So rather than throw it out, I thought I’d just go ahead and post. I wrote it when I was upset, as a way to “get the sadness out,” I suppose. So here we are! Post-Trespasser. Solavellan. Angst.

Read on AO3

“But in dreams, I can hear your name. And in dreams, we will meet again.” -Howard Shore.


This was her forest.

Before the Anchor, before Corypheus, she had only ever dreamed of this place but a few times. It was like a fond memory, one that brought comfort in hardship, a retreat of the mind and soul. When she was marked with the power to change the world she found herself able to walk here freely, her focus strong and steady. Even with the Anchor gone, visiting was an easy feat.

None, save one other, knew of this haven.

Once, the woodland was unchanging, everlasting, living beneath the rays of a warm sun that all but illuminated the vivid greens of grass and leaf, flowers that danced with the wind and trees standing tall and proud. Night came often, now. Stars glittered on the water and fireflies mingled with the halla lounging lazily about the ravine. Here was a place of peace, even if the soul who created it could find none.

Yavaena fell back her hood and sat on a thick log beside the water, reveling in the feeling of cool dew beneath her feet. She watched the fireflies dance over the water for a time, silent, hand grasping at the still recovering stump–even in her dreams, she couldn’t escape the pain. At first she thought it strange that she was unable to will even a false arm, but perhaps the pain was too deep, perhaps without the Anchor she was unable to accomplish things here as well as she could before. It didn’t matter now.

The past month had been difficult, far too difficult. When the Inquisition disbanded, she knew the time would soon come when everyone would part for a time. Their work was by no means finished and their organization was considerably smaller, more secure. Indeed, even as the new threat looming over their world was at the forefront of everyone’s minds, they had their own lives to live, and she needed time to recover. It had been but four months since the Exalted Council and her arm was still healing, she was still healing. She found comfort in her friends, whether they were at her side or in their letters, or with the sending crystal Dorian had gifted her before leaving for Tevinter. She wasn’t alone. She knew that. And yet…

All that she fought for, everything she sacrificed…her heart now bore a scar that would not heal, that she knew never would. At least, not until she set things right. And she would.

A sudden presence pulled her attention across the water.

And there sat a wolf, still as a statue, its pale blue eyes glowing beyond the ravine.

So close, but never close enough.

At first she wasn’t certain it was him; she would wake from these dreams feeling as if she’d been close to something her heart desired more than anything else. But the more he frequented her haven, the more confident she became that this wolf was, in fact, him. There was something familiar about the wolf, a sadness she had come to know well. When she reached for him he vanished into nothing, into a swirl of dust…it was agonizing, like trying desperately to grasp at water. This occurred many times over, reaching out only for him to leave. Her heart hurt. It hurt, but still, she wanted to feel him, to smell him–wood, books, warmth, comfort–to have him in her arms again.

She discovered that he would remain if she was still, if she made no move toward him. For a long time they spent nights merely watching one another. Silence built on silence; she dared not speak, fearing his abandon, but eventually the silence became too overwhelming.

She spoke just two broken words:

“Ma vhenan.”

He tensed and she mirrored the gesture, counting on him fading away once again. Yet, his gaze had simply relented into something sad and he turned to stare into the water. He made no move toward her, but it was a reaction…it was something.

She wasn’t sure how much more she could take, especially now. Tonight, instead of remaining silent, she would speak.

“Ma vhenan,” she said softly. His gaze remained steady, though his ears did twitch. “There’s…so much I want to say. So many questions I wish you could–you would answer.” She released her arm and instead tugged at the clip of her cloak. “Do you remember when you first visited my dreams?”

It was a pleasant time, a pleasant memory, one she thought of often. They had walked the ravine hand in hand as he spoke of his journeys through the Fade, of the marvels he had seen, about how beautiful this haven was. She remembered leaning on his arm with her own wrapped about his waist while they lounged on the very log she sat on now. Laughter. Comfort. Peace. There had been peace.

The wolf did not answer, but there was something in his eyes–emotion. Pain?

After a time she swallowed, rubbing at her stump again. “Dagna is working on a prosthetic, but the healers say my arm needs more time to recover before one can be fitted. I’ll have to keep waiting.”

Silence.

“It’s…difficult to use my magic, but I’m working on it,” she laughed–a sad sound. “I used to be so confident in my abilities, in myself. Now I feel…I don’t know.” Useless. So unlike the great leader she had become. Helpless.

Silence.

“I once prayed to the gods for guidance, but now that I know the truth…” With each word her composure broke, more and more, slow and then crumbling. “Everyone is leaving, everyone is leaving and I…”

A sob tore through her chest and past her lips, a sound so pitiful and pathetic she trembled.

“I miss you, emma lath. I miss you,” she cried into her hand. She cried. It had been the first time she had done so in front of someone since the Exalted Council.

Moments later, when she could finally see through her tears she lifted her gaze across the water. The wolf looked anxious, still sitting but a noise–a heavy breath–came from his snout. Yavaena cleared her throat and wiped the tears from her cheeks, more appeared to replace them and instead she stood. The wolf watched her intently, his breath still heavy, but he did not move.

He did not move as she stepped into the ravine.

He did not vanish when those steps brought her closer.

Or when she sank to her knees before him, burying her face in his fur, weeping as she held him. The wolf panted, his breaths uneven and heavy.

“Ar lath ma, Vhenan.”

When he woke, tears stained his cheeks.

Ar Lath Ma

She allowed herself to indulge into the warmth of her bedroll a little while longer. With half an ear she listened to the sounds of steps which swished the leaves and grass outside her tent, the voices of scouts reporting back, and the spitting of the campfire.

For a moment, Siryn could almost forget the huge responsibility she had been burdened with. She had been trained from childhood to guide, to take on responsibility, but never had she thought that someday she would end up as the head of an organization with thousands of members and its own army. A Keeper lead a clan of a hundred at best … 

Sometimes she feared the burden would just crush her under its weight. Sometimes she feared it already had.

She blinked lazily against the dulled sunlight, closed her eyes briefly before she – with a sigh – sat up and crawled out under her blankets. Still a little tired, but knowing that she could not escape her duties forever, she pulled her clothes and armor closer and started to dress herself.

She was still braiding her hair when she finally slipped out the tent, tying it together with a leather strap.

Cole and Solas already sat by the campfire, while Dorian was nowhere to be seen and likely still sleeping inside his tent. Her friend had a habit of sleeping long into the morning, claiming he needed it to retain his good looks.

“ … but she wanted to help. I don’t understand why she made it wrong. She wanted to do right.”

“Sometimes there is a difference between what is right and our perception thereof.”

“Like the door that didn’t listen?”

“Yes. It is not always the same.”

“But once it was. Not the right and wrong, but the door. But now … they struggle for air and they don’t know. They know nothing else. But you do. You remember.”

“It is … not always a pleasant world to live in …”

Siryn tossed her braid over her shoulder and sat down between Solas and Cole, casting a curious glance at them. She had more experience with spirits than everyone else within the Inquisition, except for Solas, but even she was more often than not confused by what the two of them were talking about.

“On dhea.”

Solas’ lips pulled into the faintest of smiles at her greeting. Wordlessly, he handed her a mug.

“Thank you”, she murmured. It was still warm in her hands.  

She raised it to her lips, sniffling at it curiously before taking a sip from the mug. Her eyes widened in surprise at the taste which suddenly filled her mouth. It warmed her through and through, sweet but only so much, the savor of honey and almonds and an unknown spice …

Without hesitation, she took a second dip, a third, emptying the mug until nothing of the beverage was left.

“It was to your liking, I take it?”

“Yes …”

“He had not all he needed, but he tried”, Cole blurted out. “Something to make her smile in the morning. She sings a song of home.”

“Cole …” Solas sighed.

Siryn glanced from Cole to Solas, and back to Cole, raising an eyebrow. “You … did this for me?”

“I thought you might appreciate it.” Solas frowned ever so slightly. “It was of no consequence.”

Siryn stared at her mug, unable to respond. Being the First of her clan had always put her into a position where men had tried to impress her … Be it a grand bear fur or the antlers of an extraordinary great stag. Meaningless gifts, meant to show that the man in question was worthy of being the bond-mate of his First. It had been such a long time since anyone had cared about making her smile, since she had received any sign of affection from a man who wasn’t her brother or father …

It just felt so good.

~ ~ ~

He was on his way to grab his backpack when she caught his arm and turned him around.

“Solas, before we head out …”

She didn’t even know what she was doing right now, and it didn’t seem to matter. She simply acted, pulling him down at his collar, and pressed her lips against his own. Under her touch, she could feel him stiffen in surprise, but only for a moment before he relaxed, and she moaned softly as he gently sucked at her upper lip, bending his head to kiss her deeper. One last time his lips brushed over hers, then he retreated …

“Siryn …”

“I love you”, she said, cutting him off. Her heart still was ponding from the kiss, and she had the vague suspicion that her face was all flustered and red, but she didn’t care.

She should’ve told him long before.

“You do not have to tell me that.”

“I know, Solas, but I …” She shook her head. “I needed to say it.” She had never said it before. There had been men in her clan she had been fond of, and a girl, but it hadn’t been the same with them. Her feelings had never been so intense. She had never felt as whole and as precious as she did now with him. She had never been so sure about anything else. She loved him. “Ar lath ma.”

She had felt it a long time before, but now she couldn’t keep it to herself any longer. Because he was the one who thought of how to make her smile in the morning.


Want more Solavellan fanfic? Check out my Solas & Lavellan Masterpost!

fastforwardmotion  asked:

Got any tips on writing kissing scenes?

Given that I’ve spent the last hour writing some steamy kisses… sure!

- Avoid repetition when you can:

Let’s look at this kiss from Ma Halamshiral Part 3:

His teeth tugged at her lower lip, his tongue sweeping into her mouth. She didn’t have to tease him or coax him. That hunger was there already, waiting to devour her, leaving her breathless as he pulled away, allowing her a single gasp before slating his mouth over hers again. They weren’t even pretending to dance now, though she could still feel the sway and the swell of their bodies pressing together. His hands searched her, making her shudder. She wanted more, wanted desperately not to have this awkward dress keeping her from feeling the warmth of him against her.

Now let me rewrite it the wrong way and see if you can spot the difference:

His teeth tugged at her lower lip, his tongue sweeping past her lips. She didn’t have to tease him or coax him. That hunger was there already, waiting to devour her, leaving her breathless as he pulled away, allowing her a single gasp before slating his lips over hers again….

It really throws me out of a scene when someone uses the same words over and over again. While this is something I think writers should be aware of all the time, it happens a lot in kissing scenes (as well as smut). While I think it’s better to switch the focus of the action to avoid repetition (moving from the mouth to the body and back to the mouth, as elaborated in the next tip), a good “cheat” is to cycle through synonyms - if you said “He pressed his lips to hers” but then want to say “She bit down on his lip” then consider changing it to “He pressed his mouth to hers. She bit down on his lip”. Make sense?

- Use more than your mouth:

You can clearly see this in the example above, but let’s look at another from Ar Lath Ma:

She didn’t allow him to finish, swallowing his words with the press of her lips, pushing him back against the edge of the desk. She felt his body stiffen as she gripped the sides of his belt, pulling herself against him. She was not patient with her kiss. It was demanding, forceful, sliding her tongue against his lip to draw it between her teeth, treasuring the small surprised moan it coaxed from him. His arms were soon around her, gliding down her back, all hesitation fading from his touch.

There are a number of examples I could have used, but this one serves as a good illustration of what I mean. Kissing is a full-body experience. Very rarely do people kiss without moving their hands, their arms, their hips - and when they do, it’s often an indication of some level of discomfort or a lack of intimacy (important to mention, if that’s what you’re trying to get across in the scene). It doesn’t have to be lewd (they don’t have to start humping) but the whole body should be engaged in some way. The more passionate it is, the more active the body is. 

- Consider the tone of your scene: 

So far, I’ve been using examples that have been very passionate, hungry kisses. As fun as those are, they aren’t right for every scene. Here’s an example from Undeserved Comfort:

She kissed him when words were no longer needed, when they were no longer enough. The press of her lips was neither lustful nor flirtatious. Her flesh was nothing but tenderness, tasting of honey and cream and bliss. His hands slipped under her robe but not out of hunger, just to fulfill the desire to hold her closer, to let himself sink into this moment and chase the guilt away with her warmth.

To take a very tender moment and have her suddenly pounce on him wouldn’t be right for the scene. Though it’s difficult to put a hard-and-fast rule to writing this type of kiss, I tend to focus more on how it makes the characters feel rather than the physical aspect of it. If it’s a steamy/gropey/I-want-in-your-pants kiss, I tend to focus more on the body - heated skin, pulling each other closer, hands wandering to other places. If it’s a tender kiss, then it’s more about embracing, wanting to be close, and either feeling whole because of their lover or an intense longing to feel more connected. 

Another example of tone illustrated in a kissing scene, this time from Dying Alone:

He lay his arms against hers, holding her there for a moment in their silence, the restless sounds of a recovering battlefield feeling far more distant than they had before. The mist thickened, the first droplets of rain falling. Slowly, he eased her grip, allowing him to turn and face her. The word was on his lips once more - my heart - trying to ask what was wrong when she reached up, catching the nape of his neck and pulling him forward to the press of her kiss.

He did not know what this was in response to but he gave into her insistence. She tasted of battle, of blood and sweat and ashes, the heavy scent of the Fade made physical in her flesh. Her mouth was pained but delicate, tracing sadness on his lips that warmed only slightly as he returned the gesture, his hand moving to her cheek. He pushed her far enough to look into her face, his brow lowering.

Here, the setting and atmosphere do a lot of the work for me in illustrating the emotional side to the kiss. Because he does not know what is motivating it, the kiss is more focused on his concern and his observations of her behavior. 

Some Commonly Used Words for Kissing Scenes:

kiss, press, pull, tug, slate, bite, moan, sigh, shudder, tremble, hum, gasp, pant, take a sharp breath, plunge, sink, whimper, writhe, arch, angle, trace, curl, curve, brush, caress, suck, graze, massage, taste, nip, nuzzle, stroke, peck, slip, tease, bliss, savor, soothe, tempt, urge, longing, burn, heated, warmth, crave, thirst, ache, thrill, slender, supple, deep, hungry, searing… and probably a lot more that I’m just not thinking of right now. 

One common tip I tend to ignore:

I’ve seen a lot of writing advice that is phobic of using the word “kiss”. While you certainly shouldn’t overuse it, I think it’s silly to say that you should absolutely avoid the word like the plague. Saying “He surrendered to her kiss” or “His kiss was everything she needed in that moment” won’t suddenly turn your writing into schlock. As long as your focus is on more than just the mere act of smooshing faces, you’re good to go.

For more tips on writing kissing scenes (including a great list of articles on the subject) check out this post.

Hope that helps!

Fen’nas

Solas doesn’t so much sleep as doze. Sleeping pulls him into the Fade and he prefers to feel the heartbeat and listen to the soft, steady breathing of his child. He traces the outline of his child’s ear, murmuring in ancient elven about things lost past. In these small intimate moments, with no one else around to hear, he can finally speak the truth. 

No one prompted me for this, but I saw it earlier this week and I couldn’t ignore it.  With my block, I’m really just letting my mind take over when it will.

He could feel her breathing slow as the young elf fell into a deep sleep upon his chest.  Solas couldn’t help but smile as he heard her gentle cooing as she slipped further and further away from this world.  Above all else, these were the times that he cherished.  With no one else around to hear, he could lower his mask and finally could be himself to this sweet little girl.

No lies.  No hesitation.  Just him and his little pup, Fen’nas.

As time went by, it was becoming more and more difficult to keep up his facade.  He had planned on leaving as soon as Corypheus was defeated, but the news that Nira’sal had become pregnant shocked him to his very core.  It put all other plans on hold.  He could no longer leave, that much was certain.  Solas would have to find a new way to destroy the veil.  A way that did not destroy his newborn child.

Nira’sal had been special to him, and still was, but he could feel the connection that he and Fen’nas shared.  The tiny feeling of her touch awakened a new feeling deep within him.  A primal need to protect his young at any cost.  A feeling that for once could not be controlled by the Wolf in any form.  His mind was cleared and his actions were his own.

“It is time you knew, da’fen.”  Solas started, his fingers gently tracing the outline of her ear, the feeling of her heartbeat becoming a rhythm he could no longer ignore.  “While I am able to keep my secret from all else, you are the one it seems I cannot bare to keep in the dark.”  He felt his heart ache as he played with her tiny hands and as if on impulse she gripped his fingers with a force he did not expect.  His eyes softened, a pain he had never known settling in his heart, as he watched his little girl.

Could he really do this to her?  While Solas knew full well that she could not understand his words, the knowledge that he could pass on to his daughter and finally telling her the truth of her ancestry became a weight upon his heart as he watched her. 

This became far more difficult than he had imagined it would be.  He knew there was no stopping it.  He knew that eventually Nira would tell their child all about the Dalish gods, Fen’harel in particular.  An act that he could not allow to come to pass.

May the Dread Wolf never hear your steps.

If anyone in this world were to know the truth…  The truth that the Dread Wolf lay in this very bed, his child slowly moving up and down with the movements of his chest. 

No…he would need to find a way to tell Nira as well.  She deserved to know the man that he buried deep within himself.  He knew it was going to be a difficult discussion, one that he had no idea how to come about.  He couldn’t think about that now.  He had time to prepare what he was to say.  He had time to practice every possible way that conversation would turn.  Solas felt a pit grow in his stomach as he thought about what he may say to her, but he could not allow himself to be distracted from what he must do now.

Solas gently pulled Fen’nas beside him, cradling her in his arms and pulling her to a spot where he could look at her face despite the fact that she were still asleep.  She was…the most precious thing to him in this world.  He could not lie to her.

“Fen’nas…I…”  His words caught in his throat, but he pushed through.  He took a deep breath before finally pushing through his sentence.  “I am Fen’harel, but the legends as your mother know them are false.”  He felt his voice waver and a sense of panic ran through his mind.  He couldn’t help but feel that he needed to explain himself, even to this child who could not even understand his words.  “I am far more than what the false stories will tell you, that much I can assure you.  My strength allows me to do a great many things, most of all, it means I have the power to keep you and your mother safe.”

Solas took a deep breath.  Fen’nas was far easier to tell than he suspected anyone else would be.  He couldn’t help, but feel as if the young girl could understand him on a much deeper level, despite her inabilities.

“Ar lath ma, da’vhenan and because of that fact, I will never let any harm come to you.”  He spoke slowly and softly, placing a small kiss on her brown.  “And the Dread Wolf never breaks his promises.”

Suddenly, he could feel his heart lighten and he smiled.

Never.


Nira tells Solas that she’s pregnant here

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Fen’harel enansal

“I love you.”

She says it as though it is a simple thing. As though the admission costs her nothing. As though loving someone is something that comes to her with ease, and she has no fear of it. No hesitation.

She has no idea that her feelings could be construed as delicate or fleeting; she stamps out the words boldly, like the wax seal on a letter. Breezily as a tavern song whistled along the side of the road. Gentle as a sigh beneath rumpled bed sheets.

Love has never bitten or scarred or broken her. Never buckled her knees and bowed her back beneath its crushing weight. It has never been a set of manacles to hobble her. Nor a cage to keep her from other things she may aspire to be.

Love has meant safety and shelter and home. Soft touches from callused hands and warm worn blankets. Sharing all that you can to hold each other up to make it through another day, another season, another year. Protective and fierce. Patient and generous.

Her heart is an open window to summer skies, with nary a raincloud in sight.

He hates that he will steal this from her. That one day, no matter which path he chooses or what secrets he does or does not keep from her, something he has done will break her heart. Because it always does. Because no matter how he tries, he is a man who breaks things.

Monstrous things and cruel things and chains that bound a millions souls to misery. Beautiful things and noble things and half a world of innocents left screaming for the sun. Everything turns to ash between his fingers.

It would be kinder, he thinks, to keep his distance. To lie to her and reject his heart. It would not completely free her from pain, but it may, perhaps, lessen it. Especially when other hard truths eventually come to light. If they come to light.  

But he wants to give her this. This one small bright true thing that she has forged within his chest. No matter how it the blade may turn to cut him later on. Besides, even if he does not say it, it is hers, regardless.

For what amounts to little more than a moment in the span of his own lifetime, he finds himself a man in love. She looks at him and sees nothing else. And for an instant of pure crystalline freedom when their lips touch for the first time, he is. He is marvelously wonderfully wholly himself and present and utterly swept up in her all at once.  

It is not in him to deny that.

“Ar lath, Ma Vhenan.”

anonymous asked:

Peggy and Co. vs IKEA AU

I know you said AU, but I actually thought of an interesting non-AU take on this prompt that’s more or less along the lines of what I expect the prompt was probably going for (putting together flatpack furniture, that kind of thing?) except in a 1940s/1950s version.

“Daniel,” Peggy said from the doorway of the garage, “come to bed.”

“Few more minutes,” Daniel muttered, down on the concrete floor with his bad leg stretched out in front of him and a lathe-turned wooden crib bar across his lap, carefully carving down the end to fit a space drilled with a drill bit that turned out to be ¼" too small.

A moment later, he heard her footsteps, quick and light even carrying the weight of eight months’ pregnancy. Her hand drifted across his hair and she bent to kiss his forehead. “Just remember you have to work in the morning. This is the boss speaking.”

“Duly noted, boss.” He tipped his head up to receive her kiss.

She had never – and he was infinitely grateful – told him that he wasn’t good at this, or that he didn’t have to do this. It mattered to him, building the crib for his firstborn son or daughter from scratch. He’d never done woodworking at all, so he’d had to start from square one. Peggy hadn’t minded Daniel turning the garage of their new suburban home into a wood shop. He bought what he could afford, and made friends with the neighbors and the lab guys at the fledgling SHIELD to gain access to what he couldn’t. It sometimes felt like one step forward and ten steps back, but he was going to build this crib and it was going to be a nice one, not a hacked-together, lopsided piece of junk, but something nice, an heirloom worthy of his firstborn, something his future baby would be proud to pass on to his grandchildren.

The problem was, Peggy’s official due date was less than a month away, and he understood that babies could come early. At the rate he was going, the kid would be walking before he built it a place to sleep.

… which was why he was still up at three a.m., carefully shaving off tiny scraps of wood, trying to make it look good – professional – not something that was going to make his future son or daughter laugh about the crib that fell apart when he or she was three months old.

When he nearly gouged his finger with the chisel, he decided that it was time to go to bed. He had to be up in three and a half hours anyway.

***

Daniel got through the day at SHIELD mostly by working out woodcraft problems in his head. He was fairly sure he’d finally figured out the aspect of the corner-joining technique from the woodworking book that had been eluding him. As soon as he got home, he could start putting the corners together – for the third time, after having to take it apart twice and sand down the clumped glue to try again.

“I thought pregnant women were supposed to be the ones who couldn’t keep two thoughts in their heads, not their husbands.”

“Okay, first of all, Jack, please go jump out the window. Second, I’m telling Peggy you said that. Hope you can run fast.”

“I can outrun a pregnant woman, Sousa.”

“You know she won’t be pregnant forever, right?”

“….”

***

He drove home with visions of mitered corners occupying his mind. Peggy, who had reluctantly agreed to stay home from SHIELD in month seven, was buried in a pile of case files in the baby’s room (currently serving as a home office) and had forgotten to start dinner. She volunteered to do a takeout run, while Daniel gratefully vanished into the garage.

He’d only been there for a few minutes when there was a polite tap on the door.

Peggy never knocked. “C'mon in,” he called, bent over the book of diagrams. If he just cut that bit, and turned it that way …

“Agent Sousa.” Jarvis came in with his hands clasped behind his back, stepping carefully between the neatly planed bits of crib.

“Jarvis?” The incongruity of having Jarvis, in his impeccably tailored suit, trying not to touch anything covered in sawdust almost sent Daniel into a laughing fit. Years of diplomacy as the head of the L.A. SSR office managed to kick in before it was too late.

“I came to see Ag – Director Carter. She appears to be absent.”

“Yeah, she’s out getting food.”

“Ah.” Jarvis cast a curious glance over the scattered parts of the project. “Dare I ask …”

Daniel struggled to his feet with a hand on the workbench. “It’s a crib. For the baby. Want me to show you?”

He expected Jarvis to be bored within five minutes, since he and Ana had no children, but in fact Jarvis turned out to have useful insights into the precise techniques of getting the pieces to join up (“No, Agent Sousa, one would add the glue before inserting the dowel –”) and the finer details of using the tools he hadn’t quite figured out yet.

“Never figured you for the handyman type, I have to say,” Daniel admitted.

“I am not, but one can’t spend this much time assisting Mr. Stark without picking up a few things.”

It wasn’t the only night Jarvis showed up – he claimed that Daniel’s garage was a pleasant escape from Mr. Stark’s current attempts to expand the menagerie – and, thanks in part to his pointers, the crib was finished three days before Peggy went into labor.

Daniel could never quite prove whether Peggy had or hadn’t called Jarvis to provide assistance … but he could never get either of them to admit it, either.

At least, he reasoned, it could’ve been worse. She could have called Howard Stark.

maadstarr  asked:

Prompt: Alternate ending. Solas fails, imprisoned, and you must judge him. Only options are death or to make him tranquil.

Judgement

Isii stared out of the window, her body feeling numb. Her hand was pressed to her lips, the dimming light of early evening casting the window’s crosshatching across her face. She could not afford to ignore the others as they addressed her in the War Room, but their presence felt distant. She wanted to crawl into herself, to disappear into the sickening feeling that pooled deep in her belly.

When she sent her people out to find Solas, she never expected it could come to this.

“He was trying to tear open the Veil,” Leliana said sternly. “We cannot just ignore that. Not after Corypheus.”

“I still can’t believe…” Josephine stopped short and Isii could practically hear her shaking her head as she sighed. “Was that truly his plan this entire time? Did he only wish to see Corypheus defeated so he could take his place?”

“Hard to say. He hasn’t said a word since we found him,” Cullen answered softly. “But if we had not interceded when we did…”

“You know this cannot go unpunished, Inquisitor,” Leliana said. “There can be no room for half-measures. He had us all fooled before. We know that even with close observation, he cannot be trusted. We can’t afford to pardon him or offer lenience as you did with Alexius and Samson.”

“Then what do you suggest?” Isii said, her voice hollow and weak. She already knew the answer. She clenched her jaw tightly, eyes closing as the spymaster answered.

“We have to neutralize the threat. We cannot afford to let him go free now that we know his intentions. He disappeared before - and we cannot let that happen again.”

“You want me to kill him.”

The words hung heavily in the air, the War Room falling silent for a time. “Yes,” Leliana said quietly. “Either that, or make it so that he can never use magic to harm the lives of all in Thedas.”

Isii turned, her eyes wet as she stared at the future Divine. “You would have me make him Tranquil?”

She struggled not to crumble under the weight of their eyes as her advisers stared at her, each silent as she wrapped her arms around herself, lowering her gaze.

“You can’t ask her to do this,” Cullen said softly.

“No,” Isii whispered. “She’s right. This is my responsibility. If it were anyone else trying to open a new Breach, I would not hesitate to act. I can’t appear to be biased in this.” The words felt automatic, like they were coming from another person’s mind before passing from her lips. She turned back toward the window, staring out at the last rays of sunlight as night began to fall. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision as she tried to blink them back. “Have him brought before me at dawn. I will pass judgment then.”

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