THEDAS CIRCUS AU. Where Dorian is the person that communes with the dead and ‘brings stuff back to life’; Solas is that magician that comes from nowhere, no one knows diddly squat about him other than the knowledge that his magic tricks and illusions are the best ( pst. IT’S REAL MAGIC?! ); the Inquisitor is some runaway that can open magic portals with this weird mark on their hand —
Soooo as i said I’ll try to draw another thingi. And I dunno i just got this sweet Idea. I mean Sanei, if your lil dork gets red eyes he looks like a sweet lil angry Big Red. And I totally luv how smol you are compared to BR. uuh dear god I stayed awake the whole night to do this and immediately
fell asleep afterwards.
So @the-humerus-skeleton@siviosanei I’m sry if its bad but… hell I’m so fucking drowsy I just woke up again, heh I’m not even aware of what I am babbling right now. hehehe.
NVM!! I hope you have a nice day today! And Sanei… you’re the fucking most accurate smol bean I am glad I found in the internet, stay awesome as you are!
Apparently fans in Chile have been stalking the band’s hotel, sang songs and got mad when the band didn’t come outside to meet them. At least that’s what I heard.
Cmon guys, you’re not entitled to a band’s time, especially not in their day off. They’re human beings who have every right to spend their free time with whoever they want. Interacting with fans is a part of their JOBS, not their sole purpose in life. If your boss showed up on your doorstep on your day off to give you work you wouldn’t be thrilled either.
Yes, they always say they love their fans, but well, I love chocolate and still don’t eat it 24/7. I love karate but I’m not at the dojo 24/7.
Just be respectful please and don’t do anything that you wouldn’t want a stranger to do with you
At the fireworks show today there was a dude selling light up flower crowns so ofc me and my pal got some and on the way home this little old lady stopped to tell us we looked very pretty and I felt like a shiny flower prince it was sweet
A/N: I was randomly inspired by this awesome song when it came on shuffle in the car. Enjoy Queens ♥
TW: Domestic violence.
Standing in front of the mirror by the door, Spencer glanced once more at his hair, tucking a rebellious few strands behind his ear. He’d looked forward to dinner at Rossi’s again, being in good company with excellent wine and food. Once satisfied that his appearance was suitable for the evening, he reached for the door handle, pulling it open and stepping through it in a single motion. With so much distraction, the young doctor nearly walked right into you as you turned the corner at the top of the stairs.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he pleaded, glancing from you to the small boy holding your hand. “Hey, kiddo!”
“Hi Spencer,” your son replied, half hiding his face in his coat.
“It’s ok,” you chuckled, knowing you were just as much at fault for trying to hurry home. “Off out somewhere nice? You’re looking smart.”
“Oh, just dinner at a colleague’s house,” he replied with his sweet smile. “He’s kind of well off so I always feel a little underdressed.”
“Well, you look just fine to me.”
The words had barely left your lips when a bad feeling swept over you, followed immediately by the sound of the lock clicking on your front door; just a little way down the hall. Three sets of eyes looked up to the door as he stumbled outward, fists clenched and rage in his eyes.
“Y/N,” he slurred. “Get your ass in here…” Such a charming man that your husband had become.
“I’m coming,” you replied sweetly, turning to Spencer one last time. “Enjoy your meal.”
Spencer stood watching as both mother and son scurried forward as quickly as they could, till the door slammed shut behind them. The husbands low and angry voice could be heard, raised enough to seep venomously through the walls but never enough to understand.
He’s drunk again, it’s time to fight She must have done something wrong tonight The living room becomes a boxing ring It’s time to run when you see him clenching his hands She’s just a woman, never again
The clock pinged, jolting Spencer to reality. A hardbacked book slid from his chest and thudded against the rug at his feet. He blinked, trying to bring the room into focus as quickly as he could. Just how late was it?
Then came another dull thud, causing the now alert agent to look around himself, thinking something else had fallen nearby. But there was nothing, just the book that had already fallen. As Spencer leant forward, reaching downward for the book, there was another noise. This time a series of thuds in rapid succession.
Something wasn’t right, a feeling deep in his stomach that he tended to follow in times of uncertainty. Out in the hallway came a muffled voice of a man shouting, followed by a woman’s scream and another, even louder thud.
Leaping to his feet, Spencer darted for the door with little regard for his own safety. The door flew open and the light of his apartment flooded the small space before him. As he craned his neck around the door, he could see you, curled against the wall by your door. The sound of whimpering prompted him to open his mouth but you didn’t want to hear it.
“Sp…sp…encer…g…g…go back to… to bed,” you cried, shielding your face from his sight but Spencer continued forward. He couldn’t see you, not like this. Not while your son was still in there with… him.
Before the young man before you could reach out to help, you raised up, yanked open the door and returned to whatever hell might await you. Spencer was left in the darkness of the hall, his lips parted in shock. What had he just witnessed?
I hear her scream from down the hall Amazing she can even talk at all She cries to me go back to bed I’m terrified that she’ll wind up dead in his hands She’s just a woman, never again
“I’m telling you, there’s something going on and I can’t just stand there and let it happen,” he said, lifting the coffee to his lips. JJ shifted uneasily as they walked through the brightly lit corridor. The case they were helping with had ended abruptly with a shooting and both unsub and victim were receiving treatment in the local hospital. “But I’ve not actually seen anything, so…”
“Be careful, Spence,” she advised, looking at him sympathetically. “If you’re wrong then it could be very damaging to accuse something like that… and if he is violent, then you could make things worse in the meantime.”
“I know but…” Spencer started but almost choked up. “I’ve seen things like this end so badly before, but we usually only see the aftermath… seeing it happening and being powerless to do anything without evidence…”
“If she needs help, does she know she can come to you?” asked JJ, to which Spencer nodded.
Been there before but not like this Seen it before but not like this Never before have I ever seen it this bad She’s just a woman, never again
The pair rounded the corner but Spencer grabbed JJ by the shoulder and dragged her back. The look of surprise on her face was accompanied by the urge to shout at him but the look of horror on his was enough to silence her.
“Spence?” she asked.
“He’s there, around the corner,” he explained, leaning his head around to see.
“In the waiting room?” asked JJ.
“Ok, I have an idea,” replied JJ after a moment of thought. “I want you to find out if Y/N is here while I distract him.”
“No buts, Spence, just go.” With that, JJ rounded the corner and headed straight for him.
Looking back, Spencer saw the nurse’s station, attended by two young women in scrubs. If there was a record of Y/N’s room number, it’d be there. With a deep swallow, he built up the courage to move over to one of the young women.
“Excuse me,” he said faintly before clearing his throat of nerves. “Hi, my name is Dr Reid and I’m with the FBI… I wondered if you could tell me which room Y/N is in.”
Two sets of eyes flicked from his face to his FBI vest and then to the badge that Spencer had pulled from his pocket, verifying he was who he said he was. Once it was confirmed, the pair looked to each other and then back to him.
“Has she told the truth?” asked one of them.
“The truth?” asked Spencer in reply.
The door creaked open, causing you to look up in fear and embarrassment but Spencer was the last person you expected to see staring back at you. Instinctively you tried to hide your face but it was too late, he’d already seen it. The painful swelling on the side of your face was too obvious to hide in the harsh light of day anyway. As he stepped further into the room, the small young woman who’d been treating you followed.
“It’s not what it looks like,” you said, trying to defend something you knew was wrong.
“And what does it look like?” he asked, his hand moving to grip the strap of his satchel.
“I… I slipped in the bathroom last night…” you answer, looking away from him.
“Y/N, if there’s anything…”
“There isn’t anything to tell, Spencer.”
He was about to argue when another face rounded the door. The face that had been sat out in the waiting room for what had been hours. As your husband looked around the room, his expression changed from fake concern to anger.
“Can we help you?” he asked Spencer, who suddenly felt a rush of courage in the face of danger; like he’d been given determination by his own anger.
“Not at all, I was here anyway and I saw Y/N coming back from an exam,” he said calmly. “Slipping in the bathroom can be quite dangerous.”
“I warned her… she’s clumsy,” he spoke through gritted teeth. “Will this take much longer?”
The nurse was about to answer but Spencer was too determined to get Y/N away from him. He had to get him to leave and he took his chance.
“If you need to be somewhere, I can give Y/N a ride home,” he smiled, tucking his lips inward to try and hide how fake it was. “We can pick up your boy on the way too, I guess.”
The offer took Y/N’s husband by surprise, not knowing just how to take it but deep down he thought she was wasting his time here anyway.
“Yeah,” was all he managed as he slipped back from view.
Just tell the nurse you slipped and fell It starts to sting as it starts to swell She looks at you, she wants the truth It’s right out there in the waiting room with those hands Lookin’ just as sweet as he can, never again
As the lock clicked and the latch flicked across, the door creaked open. A single hand moved inside to flick on the light before the rest of you stepped across the threshold. Behind you, Spencer stepped inside, looking around himself having never actually seen the inside of another apartment within his building.
As you placed your keys down on the kitchen counter, your free hand flicked the switch on the kettle. Being kind enough to drive you home, let alone pick up your son on the way, was deserving of a cup of coffee at the very least.
“Go on,” you said softly, looking at the little boy who was hovering at the FBI agent’s legs. “Shoes, coat then room.”
“Aww,” came the defeated response as the young boy trudged away.
“You don’t have to…” started Spencer but you held up a hand to wave off his objections; so he changed the subject. “Wanna tell me what really happened?”
You paused, the image of the fist flashing in your head causing you to shudder and move a hand to the swelling on your cheek. If you told him, could he get you both away? Could he really protect you both or would it destroy the life of an innocent child?
“I…” was all that came before the sound of a door opening stopped you in your tracks.
“Took you long enough,” came a slurred voice from behind Spencer. The young doctor turned quickly to see your husband standing in the open doorway. “Think about running away with him, did you? Think you could take my son with you?”
The drunk staggered forward, causing Spencer to take steps backwards toward you. Both of his fists were clenched and his eyes look right through Spencer as if they were burning a hole to see you. The standoff was silent but terrifying.
“No one’s doing anything,” said Spence. “I brought your wife and son home, just like I offered.”
“What do you want? A medal?” he asked. “Mr. FBI”
“It’s Doctor and you’re drunk,” said Spencer sternly which was met with a feigned impression.
“Whatever,” he spat. “You can go now. I need to talk to my wife… alone.”
“Y/N, do you want me to go?” asked Spencer. Panic set in. If you said yes then it would enrage your husband but if you said no, there was no telling what he could do without witnesses. At that moment, your little boy, the one thing that actually mattered to you now, came running from his room to stand in front of the FBI agent.
“Spencer, Spencer,” he shouted in excitement. “Show me the trick again!”
Your heart sank as you realised that this small, precious thing was now standing between danger and its target. In his innocence that little boy understood nothing of what went on but would most likely suffer the most from it. The mass of so-called manhood strode forward, pushing the child with a single hand to the face and sending him crashing to the floor. Spencer knew all he needed to know now.
“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to remain calm,” said Spencer, his hand hovering at his side, just above the revolver.
“Or what?” demanded your husband. “You gonna shoot me in front of my son? Gonna let him watch his father bleed?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t call you that,” said Spencer, a dark tone in his voice. “You don’t have the right to be called that. Not anymore.”
Father’s a name you haven’t earned yet You’re just a child with a temper Haven’t you heard don’t hit a lady Kickin’ your ass would be a pleasure
The crying child, the raised voices, the pain, the threats, the anger, the violence, the memories. All of it swam around and around in your head till you felt sick. Sick of what you’d become. Sick of what he’d made you. Sick that you’d allowed it to happen for so long and felt trapped.
Before anyone could react, you had decided it wasn’t going to go that way ever again. Your hand moved quickly, with no attention on you as you pulled it from its holster. No one was able to stop you because no one had seen it coming. Your other and came to grip the butt as your arms raised. Your finger rested gently on the trigger and with one look straight down the iron sight you squeezed.
The flash was blinding. The explosion was deafening. The smell was choking. But the feeling was relief. Everything moved in slow motion. Spencer curling away and ducking. The expressionless face of your husband, calm for the first time in years as he dropped to his knees. Even your son had stopped crying in shock of the sound.
You released the breath that you’d been holding in for what seemed like hours. With the man you’d once loved laying face down on the carpet, you could finally lower your arms without fear of something striking your face. A smile crept across your lips and the revolver hit the floor hard.
Silence at last. He’s drunk again, it’s time to fight Same old shit, just on a different night She grabs the gun, she’s had enough Tonight she’ll find out how fuckin’ tough is this man Pulls the trigger fast as she can, never again
Spencer picked up the gun, his eyes flicking from you to the man on the floor as he tried to piece together what had and what was about to happen. The first sound that actually broke through to you was the thudding of a young boy, no longer in danger but desperate to cling to his mother. With your arms wrapped tightly around him, you burst into tears.
“It’s ok, baby… it’s ok,” you whispered softly. “Never again.”
The young agent moved over to the man who lay face down, his fingers pressed to his neck for a moment before shaking his head. What would usually cause grief or anguish suddenly caused hope and relief. Pulling his phone from his pocket, Spencer stood up, moving over to the counter. With the phone pressed to his ear, Spencer pulled off a square of kitchen towel from a dispenser and moved further along the counter.
“Hi, JJ,” he said when the person on the other end finally picked up. “I’m gonna need you to come to the apartment opposite mine…” He opened up the square of kitchen towel and wrapped it around the handle of a knife in the block. “Yeah… ambulance and local PD…” As he pulled the knife free from the block he moved back over to the body on the floor. “We got back and he was already here, drunk… he had a knife…” Spencer knelt, pushing the knife into the dead man’s hand before standing and kicking it away. “Yeah… I warned him but he pushed the boy aside and came at us anyway…. Ok, thanks.”
There was nothing of what had happened that you’d been aware of since your son was in your arms, crying. All you could do was whisper the same thing over and over.
I would love if Stiles and Derek started getting closer, like they’re obviously friendly toward each other and hang out sometimes, but the pack doesn’t realize how close they’ve gotten until one night they’re all hanging out and Stiles and Derek are practically attached at the hip, and at one point Stiles laughs loudly, a fully body laugh, to something Derek says and he leans away and then into Derek, hands resting comfortably on his shoulders, and Derek’s laughing too, an actual, real laugh, and tears are in their eyes their laughing that hard.
And the pack is like….woah….since when did Stiles and Derek make each other laugh? Since when did they want to be so close to each other instead of at opposite ends of the room scowling and glaring at each other? Since when did they get so touchy feely? Since when did they stare at each other for so long that moments when they weren’t looking at each other were few and far between?
And they all just look at each other as Stiles and Derek lean into whisper to each other and snicker as they lean into each other and they all have looks on their faces like well isn’t this interesting before they let it go for the night and act like they don’t see Stiles and Derek practically snuggling together on the couch, omfg.