i call shenanigans!

That moment when you could throw down with the Dread wolf and not even sweat

like. did solas have to pretend to be crap at magic for a while. like, comparatively crap.

because if he whipped out godmode magic in the Hinterlands, i’d have personally called shenanigans.

so obviously you know he purposely fucked up like, a winters grasp on a goat or something like “oh no. how have i, solas, a regular elven apostate in this the Age Of Dragons, failed so. oh dear”
the rest of the team is just like “you are an over-dramatic fuck”
and he’s just internally like ‘yes i am, but i have fooooled you’

Can we just take a moment to appreciate the fact that A.Ham is listed as Martha’s brother-in-law real quick

Little Battleborn Things #920

Wondering what kind of game Battleborn would be if it took place after all the stars had darkened. (A post apocalyptic game on a universal scale sounds interesting).

*another spooky submission from the pondering Battleborn scifirice. 

h e y !     this for a small CANON DIALOGUE starter !

Let’s pretend you serenaded me

Oisuga | Rating: T | Words: 1393

Actor AU in which Come and get lost with us is the tv show Suga stars in, the media finds Daisuga the hottest topic, and his boyfriend Oikawa is Not Amused.

They’re a tangle of limbs and blankets, and Oikawa has his face buried against Suga’s warm skin. The silence in their bedroom, only breathing and heartbeats and the room half in darkness thanks to the closed blinds makes it easier for Oikawa to say things which he keeps to himself, most of the time. Bottled up under layers and layers and layers of bravado.

“Why don’t you ever properly deny being with Daichi?”

His voice is quiet, and he tries to make it sound like it doesn’t matter, but they’re so close he can feel his eyelashes flutter against Suga’s skin, his lips move against it, and after six years, Suga knows. Of course he knows that it means something.

He shifts, or tries to shift so he can see Oikawa’s face, but Oikawa stubbornly clings to him, heart starting to race because he can’t look at Suga’s face right now, this is why he brought it up while they were like this. So close it felt like nothing could come between them, not even the fact that half the population wanted Suga to smooch the co-star in his damn TV show.

Suga holds him a little bit more tightly, and Oikawa hates that he knows how much it means exactly, how soft his voice is.

“You know we’re just best friends joking around, right?”

Suga kisses the crown of his head and Oikawa closes his eyes and stays like this, frozen in time a little. He regrets bringing this up so much, he knows all this, Suga told him a hundred times. But, part of him wonders. Part of him is scared. Their schedules never allow them to see each other as much as they want to. Meanwhile, fucking Daichi and Suga hang out all the time, have interview sessions and time behind the set together, go out to eat ice cream or do stuff the press immediately declares romantic dates.

“It’s you I love. You’re the one for me. Tooru, look at me.”

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This could have gone better.

It’s not easy to get the jump on Frank, one of the benefits of his particular brand of hyper vigilance crossed with paranoia. But he’s still human and still perfectly susceptible to getting knocked out. In this case, he’d pushed himself too far, run afoul more men than he’d been able to efficiently take out, and was now paying the price.

The price being strung up on a pulley system in the middle of a garage. His arms are already burning from the way they’ve tied him, and the rest of him is not faring much better. A cursory once over tells him he’s got broken ribs, one oozing gunshot wound in his upper arm, and countless minor injuries. He’s been spitting blood since he woke up, and while he can’t exactly say what’s wrong with his leg, something tells him it’s gonna be sore for a long while.

If he, you know, lives through this.

Currently, the half dozen pieces of shit that are still alive are conferring in the office across the way, peering at him through the glass and muttering. One of them has his vest, skull white and clear even from this distance. He’s pretty sure they want to sell the damn thing– which puts into his head exactly why they haven’t killed him yet.

Frank wonders how long he has until they find a highest bidder for his head.