Fandom: Dragon Age Pairing: Fenhawke Rating: T Word count: 1,453 In which Hawke offers Fenris his heart in the form of a red favor. Set during the first night Fenris and Hawke spend together.
A blanket of warm silence had fallen
over the manor, the dust finally permitted to settle in the aftermath of twin
tornadoes, one elven, one human. Soft orange light danced in Hawke’s hearth,
the logs sharing secret crackles and whispers as they burned.
The bed sheets rustled. Strong
fingers curled around Fenris’, coaxing him back from the brink of sleep. He let
them stay where they were. Blinked over at Hawke with drowsy green eyes.
Hawke chuckled under his breath,
answering the question of an arched eyebrow. “I have something I want to give
zevran’s romance and zevran’s character arc and zevran’s earth-shattering guilt and zevran’s sincere surprise at good things happening to him and zevran’s inability to believe that he deserves to be loved and
What superpowers would the different clones have in Orphan Black?
Sarah: Sarah is, at her core, a con artist, so I think I would go with some kind of illusion-based ability. The ability to turn invisible at will, for example, or—even better—a transfiguration ability that would allow her to slip into disguise just by looking like someone else. She has a natural affinity for deception, and how better than to alter her face, her hair, her body type at a mere thought? She would be the most excellent thief, one no one could possibly see coming. And, if this power extended to animal transformation, it would just please me all the more. Sarah Manning turning into an alley cat, slicing up someone’s face, and racing over a fence before they can do a thing. Sarah Manning sprouting wings and taking to the air as a ratty falcon to escape a nasty turn with a mark. Sarah Manning bursting into full grizzly mode on anyone who dares come after Kira. Shapeshifter Sarah is very important to me—particularly a Sarah who learns over time to use her power for righteous reasons, to protect her family, rather than for her own personal gain. Sarah’s growth from antihero to honest woman would be such a gorgeous thing, as she learns to put her natural inclinations toward lying and conning toward taking down anyone who attacks her siblings, instead.
Alison: Alison would make an excellent empath, designed for tapping into other people’s emotional roller coasters. It would drive her totally crazy for a while (young Alison, constantly wheeling back and forth between her own feelings, and her mother’s; teenage Alison, unable to shut out her hormonally-charged peers), but she eventually learns to take charge of it, so long as she can keep her distance. It actually helps sometimes, particularly when she’s onstage and having trouble really grounding herself in a character, and by the time she’s old enough to go away to college, Alison is excellent at roping herself off from other people. It’s the only way she’s able to thrive in a suburban community: she’s learned to turn her neighbors off, to understand where they’re coming from, and ignore it. She even convinces herself it’s easy, since most of them do their best to play out their lives from behind masks anyway. It’s only when Alison lets someone in—as she does with Donnie, with her children, with Beth and the others—that she really allows herself to tap into her power. And, after Beth, after watching Beth spiral, and finding herself as emotionally out of control as she’s been since her high school years, letting people in is the last thing Alison wants. (Pills help. Booze, more so. Sometimes, it’s the only way to shut out the raging anxiety of Sarah, the painful hope of Cosima, the residual crippling misery that still cries Beth, Beth, Beth in her head at night.)
Cosima: I love the idea of Cosima having some kind of hippy-dippy communal power with the universe around her. A nature-based power which allows her to manipulate and comprehend plant life, for example, or communicate with animals, or even manipulate life at a molecular level. She has such a powerful love for science, for learning, for the world at large, that it would only make sense for her to understand life at its base level, and be respected by life in turn. Cosima, who grows up feeling at home in biology courses, because she has a preternatural affinity for the roots digging into the soil, for the mice running their tests, for the cells she is studying. Imagine Cosima cherishing every iota of life, and being able to explain in such simple terms how things work, because she just knows, and consistently craves more. Imagine Cosima, furious at having lost her own agency, at having lost control of her own biology, calling on the earth to shield her from what she can’t influence. Cosima Niehaus, calling thorny vines up to protect her lab and keep out intruders. Cosima Niehaus, twisting the fabric of the universe in a last-ditch effort to take charge. Cosima, understanding all the little twists and dips of the earth, and giving herself over to the science of it like only Cosima can.
Helena: It’s tempting to go with something like Hulk strength for Helena (particularly seeing as she can rip herself away from poles in Mrs. S’ basement), but I actually think she would better suit having some sort of extra sight—the ability to see the path an object would take if thrown or fired at a certain angle, for example. What an assassin she would be, unstoppable, if she could see all paths the bullet might take before even firing the gun. Helena can see these things without being told how, without being taught the geometry and focus of a world-class killer. At a young age, she is found, and taught, and honed like the weapon she is so aptly designed to be: Helena, who doesn’t even need a gun in her hand to do the job. Helena, who can kill with nothing more than a penny lobbed at the precisely perfect angle. Helena, who never fails to execute, who can decimate with knife, with bullet, with no radar or laser to aid her sight. Helena, who understands action and consequence so exquisitely, who never, ever misses—and who still, somehow, can’t quite understand the basic human interaction it takes to win her sister’s love.
Rachel: Rachel’s cunning is arguably her strongest suit, which lends neatly to a mentalist ability, allowing her to manipulate the minds and wills of others. Imagine the possibilities for business, if Rachel is the puppetmaster pulling strings behind the scenes of every transaction. Rachel, telling you what you want, making you believe it before you think to disagree. Rachel, in your head, nudging you where she sees fit, fitting you onto the most beneficial squares. Imagine Rachel Duncan slipping into an enemy’s dreams at night, twisting thoughts in hideous ways to torment anyone who goes against her. Rachel Duncan finding those tiny anxieties, insecurities, dark secrets, horrifying terrors, and playing them like perfect little instruments in her expansive game. Rachel Duncan would be the most terrifying chess piece on the board; she would revel in it. And imagine, then, how furious Rachel would be, to come across a player like Sarah Manning—who refuses, against all odds, to bend to Rachel’s will.
Tony: I have a very powerful need for Tony to be able to play with fire. I don’t know why Tony and dragons are synonymous in my brain, but I love a Tony who has been able to manipulate flames from a very young age. A Tony who maybe didn’t fit right in his own skin, but found solace in a lighter swiped from his father. A Tony who was made fun of at school when he started testing out clothes that really suited him, a walk that fit right around his hips, a hairstyle that didn’t match his peers, and who would skive off class to fool around with matches in the chemistry lab. A Tony who would show his gift only to a few special people at first, molding flames between his hands, making them dance in shapes and swirls, and who steadily built confidence in his look, his walk, his grin, learning to show off his power as he taught people who truly lived behind a face he never quite recognized in the mirror. A Tony who teaches himself to spit fire, who quickly learns to hone his party tricks for self defense, whose heart burns as bright as a lit candle, is essential.
Beth: At first, Beth’s premonition ability is extremely helpful in her field. A level-headed, sass-throwing recruit at the academy, she quickly develops a reputation for being lucky. Lucky to come across the scene of a crime seconds before it takes place. Lucky, always finding the missing children before the K9 unit is called. Lucky to be the officer on duty when shots are fired, and somehow stepping into the fray just after the bad guy’s magazine has emptied. Beth Childs is lucky as can be, climbing the ranks to detective at a madcap rate, because Beth Childs can see the chain of events before they take place. They come to her in fits and starts, and she is nearly always right—so long as she remains calm. By the time she fires on Maggie Chen, however, her stress levels are at an excruciatingly high level. The visions have begun to unravel in her head; she sees places, but not times, or people, but not quite what they need from her. She begins to miss pieces, widening the gap between what’s in her head and reality. She is often too late. Anxiety only makes it worse, and by the time she starts popping pills, Beth Childs can’t see anything straight anymore. She’s missing the clones in her head, watching women with her face slip between her fingers before she can reach them. Soon, there is only one vision in her head, one thing she can be utterly certain of: the train, and her ability to meet it on time.