#which. is. hard. to. capture.

[ndostairlyrium]

Fenris / Male Hawke | 1377 words | Missing Moments | No Warnings, just terrible jokes

[Beginning of act 2] The one in which Fenris wants to know why nobody calls Hawke by his given name, but there's some tension going on between the two as they just have finished discussing about their feelings

The Shepard Syndrome

Birds chirping, merchants chattering, life going on...

It was a regular morning in Hightown, so regular in fact that it seemed lacking personality, or better adjectives that could define it.

Even calling it “boring” would be considered a stretch. It was just one of those ordinary days in which one has to force themselves to go to work despite being dead for years.

Amidst the pure bland nothing, Hawke stepped out of Fenris' mansion, breathing in the smell of dust and rotten flowers that only the rich part of Hightown could provide, along with the bougie - and persistent, unfortunately - stench of orlesian cosmetologists' concoctions considered as the new trend by Kirkwall's aristocracy.

"Coming," Fenris said, while reaching for his sword. Once he gathered enough equipment to kill a dragon on top of an ogre, he closed the door behind him. All of this under the strict surveillance of some of the most pathetic puppy eyes humanity could ever witness.

The two walked side by side in utter silence for a while, charging that bland morning with some electricity. There was indeed some tension between them and nobody would risk to break it soon.

They've just finished talking. A feelings talk, with some flirting here and there attached to goofy smiles and a promise to investigate such reciprocated crush further on. Another time, Fenris had suggested, and Hawke - crumbling internally - had agreed.

In the present, Hawke glanced at Fenris, describing his figure rapidly before focusing back on the road ahead.

Fenris remained his usual wary self. He collected the look, mashing it like purée under the heels of an unbothered façade, then he asked "Where are we going?" as an urgent attempt to divert the attention elsewhere.

"Dear Isabela may have another clue on her mysterious quest," Hawke let him know, taking on an amused expression.

"Well, that's new," was Fenris’ sarcastic response.

Some guy laughed way too loudly in the background, as they descended two pairs of stairs, finally leaving Hightown behind.

"At least we're having a good time!" Hawke said, waving a hand in greeting as he spotted someone he knew. "Now that I'm filthy rich, I can do things for fun. Who would've guessed?"

"We have different standards when it comes to "good times", Hawke."

"I thought you liked running in circles, chasing shirtless pirates, and rustling inside fish barrels in search of spare coin."

"No, I don't, and you shouldn't as well."

"You're not my dad!"

"Fortunately. That would make the flirting awkward."

The look they exchanged was so emotionally charged that if someone had to walk between them they would get incinerated. Or end up pregnant.

"So, huh, why does nobody calls you by your given name?" Fenris asked, completely out of the blue. The flushing on his ears suggested his will to divert the attention from steep territory again.

Hawke flinched, then let out a chuckle.

Fenris sketched a smile. "I'm being serious. What about it?"

"Well, for instance, I hate it. It's the name one would give to an unsolicited pimple the day before their wedding. That's not the kind of polycule one would want to get involved with, you know."

Fenris looked confused. He stayed silent for a moment, contemplating the chaotic void in front of him. "Walker Hawke," he said. "Seems pretty normal to me."

"It turns normal only when you pronounce it." Hawke exhaled in contempt, while offering Fenris a fascinating smile. "Although I must warn you that if you intend to start calling me by name in public, I’d be unable to act normal ever again."

"I'm pushing you off a cliff," Fenris threatened him, forcing himself not to laugh.

"Alright, alright! I'll give you some context. It's the first act of proper fatherhood good old Malcolm performed; a dad joke." Hawke sighed. "And of-fucking-course he squeezed it until his last breath."

"Because hawks don't walk?"

"That too. Now imagine hearing the story of your first steps for the hundredth time, and suddenly dad goes "and then I told Leandra; that's a walker if I say so!""

"Kaffas!"

"Kaffas indeed."

"That explains where the humor comes from."

"Oh no, that comes from survivor trauma, emotional neglect, and a modest dose of terrible personality. He was a serious fella, bit strict, even."

Fenris raised an eyebrow, doubtful. "If you say so."

Hawke pushed him away playfully. "For real tho, do you wanna start to call me by name? If that’s what you want, we can come up with an alternative. Ooh, maybe a pet name! What do you think of “almighty crumpet”?"

Fenris shrugged. "I just asked out of curiosity."

"Yeah, curiosity. Do you know what they say about it?" Hawke asked, wearing a sly smile.

"That it made the slave tongueless?"

Hawke remained silent for a moment. "Tevinter really does suck."

Fenris chuckled. "Some things are okay, like bread."

"And the sun, and the sea, and the unalive magisters you left on your trail."

"Especially those."

They stopped to let a cart travel through the very tight alley they would have to cross to reach Lowtown. Hawke took advantage of this sudden break to reduce the distance between them, even if it was a risk, considering his only presence was enough to wake Fenris’ fear of magic.

However, for once Fenris seemed calm enough to greet that action with an interested glance. A welcoming one.

The cart's driver took his time to pass through the alley, but the two didn't really suffer the long wait. Especially Hawke, who couldn't really keep the attention away from his companion.

Unfortunately, the problem of being friend with the whole city and their grandma impacted on their silent interaction multiple times. It wouldn't have been a big deal in any other moment, but having Fenris in a good mood, available for talking, made every interaction outside their newfound ecosystem frustrating for Hawke as a pebble stuck inside a shoe.

"Sucks to be you," Fenris remarked.

Hawke agreed with an eloquent look.

Once the wait was over, they navigated the alley until meeting the familiar smell of sulfur and wet iron, typical of the northern entrance of Lowtown. Sensory wise, it was a terrible welcome back sign, but it helped that bland morning in the hope for a better personality.

"If you wanted us to be left alone, you should have chosen a task in Darktown," Fenris commented, as they approached the lower end of a long stairway.

Hawke turned around, proceeding to climb the steps backwards just to face him. "If I wanted some time alone with you, I would have suggested staying at your place."

Fenris raised a brow. "Oh? I misread the situation then."

"Kind of. I figured you didn't want that. Actually, I asked you to tag along out of courtesy," Hawke minimised.

Fenris analyzed his face, then took a surprised expression. "You're not joking!" his voice broken by what was causing such exclamation.

Hawke opened his arms, turning around to proceed normally. "Pushing someone into doing something uncomfortable just to please me is not really my thing. In love I'm a walker, not a runner."

Fenris let out a deep sigh. "Andraste's- how long did you have this prepared for?"

Hawke’s mustache supported a mischievous smile gorgeously. "I have a list."

"You have a…" Fenris raised his hands to stop the repetition, lacking words for commenting properly, then he stopped abruptly, forcing Hawke to turn around another time and wait. "I… appreciate your…" he mumbled, raising his gaze to meet Hawke's. "I appreciate your patience, Hawke. I really do." he said, his voice standing where grace meets frustration.

The other waited for a moment, then let out a "But?"

Fenris shook his head lightly. "No buts, only gratitude."

Hawke gasped theatrically. "No buts? Well that's unfortunate, and rather offensive."

Fenris tilted his head, giving him an amused look. "That's what happens when you use your name as a crutch, you lose shape where it’s needed the most."

Hawke remained silent for a while, astonished. "I swear to Andraste, Fenris, stop being so attractive!" he scolded him, walking first towards the top of the staircase.

Fenris chuckled, then followed him more closely. "You've started it."

-I wish I hadn't.- Hawke said, failing to hold back a nervous laugh.

[terranceholdsapencil]

Did you know rewatching heaven sent can make a grown man cry?

"But I can remember, Clara. You dont understand, I can remember it all. Every time.

And you'll still be gone.

Whatever I do.... you still won't be there."

[smtiv]

[1999] BAROQUE doujinshi : BABY SITTER ○ CROSS WORLDS ○ THORES Shibamoto + NIELSEN Horiuchi

[ricky-mortis]

I recently finished watching It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia, so I drew The Gang

[kyurochurro]

late night monkee doodles!! just tryin' to study 'em :D

[formulanni]

Esteban Ocon as the Knight of Wands:

This person is a man of action - he represents the manifestation of an idea and the passionate pursuit of a vision. Because this person is highly focused on action, he can also be brash, impulsive and unrealistic.

This card embodies high energy, enthusiasm, and a willingness to take on challenges. The Knight of Wands encourages us to embrace our ambitions and pursue work that aligns with our passions. However, it also cautions against hasty decision-making and advises careful research and planning for long-term success.

Tag list: @st-leclerc @rubywingsracing @saviour-of-lord @three-days-time @the-wall-is-my-goal @albonoooo @ch3rubd0lls @brawngp2009

[kwillow]

He'd be a Jackalope. (And not just because of the pun.)

[batw1nggg]

in my head komaedas appearance has become so specific that seeing him in an anime art style feels unnatural. dont get me wrong it suits him well but could not begin to capture his vibe in its entirety . the sunken facial features. the pale greenish skin. eyes that are so tired yet listen to you with incredibly offputting alertness. brittle nails. lashes that are barely visible because theyre white, but long and thick if you look close. uncomfortably green eyes. cold fingers with the widest part being the knuckles instead of the meat. dry thin and frizzy hair a color that cant exactly be described as white or grey. fucked up and beautiful in the same way abandoned cathedrals and quiet libraries and untuned instruments and plant life growing among a caved-in house are.

[brekitten]

Bruce doesn't dream.

He never has, really - at least, not that he can remember. He never even had nightmares from the night his parents died. Maybe that's why; maybe he just subconsciously trained himself to not dream after that night, in fear of the nightmares that were sure to come. But the point is that he does not dream.

And yet.

The dream always starts out the same, every night, every time he closes his eyes and slips into the embrace of sleep. He's in a pitch-black room, one so dark that he can't see his hands even when he raises them right in front of his face. He knows, somehow, that he can walk for hours without coming into contact with anything - walls, furniture, anything at all to indicate that he was even in a room. Yet he knows that he is, although he's not sure why, as there really is no reason for him to know that.

The dream changes, after a while of walking. He knows that he won't find anything, no matter how far or how long he walks. This place is empty, desolate even. It fills him with dread every time. The change is never consistent, always bringing him to a different place each night.

(Once, it was a dusty old bedroom, one that made his heart ache, although he didn't know why. He had taken notice of the various space-themed decorations, the model rockets and NASA posters and stars on the ceiling. It was clearly a child's bedroom, but it hadn't been used in a long time. Another time, it was a darkened lab, illuminated only by the strange vials of green liquid lined along the many, many shelves. Bruce had wondered, after he had awoken, if it was Lazarus Water, but that felt wrong. It was something else. Something more. It had made him uneasy, and he got the feeling that something terrible had happened there. He didn't get a chance to investigate the gaping hole in the wall before he had been whisked away to another part of the dream.)

This time, he is in a brightly-lit white lab, and he has to blink stars out of his eyes at the abrupt change in lighting and color. He looks around; it seems like a typical lab, but everything is pure white, except for a green stain on the table. He can feel bile rising in his throat at the sight of the cuffs on the table, and though he still doesn't know what the green substance is, he gets the horrible feeling that it's blood. A lot of it.

He uses what little time he has to investigate the lab. There is an abundance of medical supplies, but many look unused, with the exception of the scalpels. The pit in his stomach continues to grow. Why were there so many? He reaches toward a vial of red liquid, wrong wrong wrong this is wrong, when the dream changes again.

Now he's in what is clearly a cell, except even the cells in Arkham aren't this bare. The only thing it contains is a familiar white-haired teenager, who is chained to the floor with cuffs that glow the same green as the vials of Lazarus Water that he's seen before.

Though Bruce has never learned his name, he has been in every dream, the one constant (besides the empty room, of course) in each one. The kid has never spoken, never done more than watch, but Bruce has always gotten the feeling that he was the reason for these strange dreams.

He knows that he should be more worried. If some kind of meta has managed to get inside his head, there's no telling what could happen. But he can't bring himself to be. Something is wrong, and it's not the teenager.

He can't help but think of his own children.

Something feels . . . off this time. The kid isn't looking up, isn't even moving - he seems limp, almost, as he kneels on the ground, weighed down by the chains keeping him there. Green blood - Bruce knows it's blood now, it has to be - drips from his still figure, pooling on the ground underneath him.

Bruce can't move. He desperately wants to, what could he even do? but it's like he's frozen in place. He can only watch as the teenager slowly, agonizingly, looks up at him, his bright green eyes dull and filled with fear and desperation and hope and -

Bruce wakes.

[cent-scratchnsniff]

it was just going to be a few warmup doodles but then she infected the rest of the page like the ever eternal and spreading spores. hod!!! hod. hod :)

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

i have seen a lot of posts about lucanis & illario lately, that specifically call out that some of the things Lucanis says about him are kinda mean. usually in context of 'yes what illario did was fucked up but they BOTH went thru the fucked up training and lucanis says shit to him too' etc etc. and i'll be honest as someone who does have a contentious/estranged/very-low-contact sibling relationship. everything lucanis said came off as super mild to me and they should both be WAY nastier to each other actually. yes even when you include their dynamic in wigmaker job which was both more lighthearted And heartfelt. but like if you want realism they should be going from that to 1 minute later annoyed enough to break out the super cutting remarks dragging up the worst things the other has ever done/said, specifically becuause they know it will hurt the other most. then i would believe it more tbh.

[valgeristik]

sorry for a big post but i just found those again recently

huge throwback to these little things i did while bored out of my mind between calls on my tech support job i had in 2017 🌞 the phrases are whatever i could think of at the moment, from phrases i heard on calls to what i saw in google search to personal observations...

i did these with a mouse!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i have not been able to replicate this style since. it will forever stay there, on that imac with that weird apple mouse and a random art app i downloaded that they later locked me out of bcs u know ur not supposed to download third party apps on work computers but i was also not allowed to have paper like what are yououuuu expecting me to do GOD i hated that place they made me work for 6 days in a row then ONE (1) ☝ day off and then SIX MORE DAYS AGAIN with sometimes less than 12 hours between shifts but i was young and stupid and didnt complain. this went on longer than i thought it would.

I was also (unsurprisingly) sososososososo depressed and this song was a big comfort (and hey, its an english one for once!)

Vetted Gaza Evacuation Fundraiser List

E-sims donation

bonus thing i like but it didnt fit in with the rest of them

not. translating everything but if u really really want to know feel free to shoot me an ask i suppose. russian knowers will find some of these funny tho. esp the всё понял, иду нахуй (it was a positive customer review on one of the calls our trainer told us abt LMAO)

[pencilofawesomeness]

Which member of Team Natsu do you think would be the most challenging for a bad guy to hold captive?

The woman who casually rips holes in the fabric of time and space on the daily? The man who can freeze anything he looks at? Or the girl who gets her power by breathing?

(Assuming anti-magic devices aren’t in play)

oooooo Anon you have given me a mental treat with this one XD

Magic suppression is definitely a game changer, though without it (even assuming the mage in question isn't magically drained/exhausted, and possibly kept that way) I think the power of heavy duty materials still go a long way.

That said, my answer would have to be Erza. She's a tank *and* a swiss-army knife. There's no way she can't summon the exact armor or weapon needed for the job... even if the weapon in question is just lock-picks. There's no way to plan for her vulnerabilities without knowing her entire inventory. Now, there might be a way to circumvent this by simply giving her no room to summon anything or available hand to use it, though it's hard to say if Erza would still be able to, say, displace a bunch of chains by summoning armor in-between them and her body. Since she requips directly onto herself anyway, her control is proven to be immaculate. Plus she's just all around scary and badass XD

Next in line of difficulty might actually be Wendy. Her buffs and enchantments can be a game-changer, and as you mentioned, she can pretty much always have access to her element. (Though I do imagine that, say, some dank dungeon wouldn't be that magic-rich sky so I wouldn't really count on that as a big boost.) Although wind itself might not be that effective if any metals are in play. It would mostly be the array of enchantments, whether that means giving herself an inhuman strength boost previously unexpected or enchanting up a debuff on whatever is holding her. (However to this point, baby Wendy as we know her might not be this versatile yet.)

Gray is close in my internal ranking, because he can make anything, but unlike Erza he has to *make* it, and if he doesn't have both hands available, then it might not be as sturdy. Plus there's stuff that won't break from the cold, and would be more durable than ice in a clash. They might have to get a certain type of alloy/material to withstand the flash-freeze, but honestly Gray doesn't have as much raw strength as Erza or Natsu anyway so there's still the breaking issue.

Natsu is definitely a beast of a guy but if he's up against fireproof and highly durable materials then he would be out of luck. (And they might have to be magicked to be fireproof, but I think that's fairly doable.) Once the brute-forcing option fails he's a bit cooked.

Then poor Lucy is really easy if you get her away from her keys. The trick might be if somebody like Virgo or Loke summons themselves to mount a rescue, but that also falls into any Fairy Tail rescue which could apply to all of them. (And I'm assuming that if she's separated from her keys then locating her would be tricky.)

Oh and Happy and Charle would also be really easy to hold captive. Poor little guys.

[ask-pakistan]

Ummm!! So i went on a little trip with my family to some mountains nearby, this June,,, and i took some pictures of the scenery i felt that were very aesthetic ! (Atleast to me, because i LOVE taking pictures of a beautiful sky) So, i felt it would be a waste to NOT share some of my favourites with you guys :D

Heres some of the scenery from Pakistan , brought to you by your very own Mun! :-

(This one is my ABSOLUTE favourite ajsnfikridhj because there was a sudden blackout when i snapped this, which makes it look like this came straight out of a horror movie! Haha)

(Mid-Drive smudge but atleast we captured the sunset!)

(and idk but i felt like having just the moon shining your path at night has a vibe of its own. I like that vibe, it's very nostalgic for me)

(Tumblr is making them look grainier ;_; oh)

[bookwyrminspiration]

just finished a desolation called peace and I can't stop thinking about empire. it's not about upholding the empire, it's not about tearing it down. the empire simply...lives. amnardbat and tarats are threats to Mahit, but they're not wrong. it's a vast, colonizing force that seems almost incapable of seeing anything or one other as a person; it is a direct threat to Lsel, even with their tenuous peace--to everyone outside the empire. they're not wrong to be hostile, though Mahit herself doesn't deserve it. and at the same time we see, again and again, the empire is made of people. writing poetry, sharing nicknames, getting drunk. twenty cicada gave himself to an alien hive mind for a chance--a chance at peace. nine hibiscus fired on her own legion to save that peace. eight antidote, 11 years old, used every resource he had and experienced dozens of deaths to defy the emperor and stop a genocide because he was the only one who could. but that doesn't absolve the empire, nor does it try to. it's simply a coexisting truth. and in the end, the empire still exists. not because the narrative believes in it, but because it simply does. the empire will continue to write poetry, and it will continue to devour. mahit, as an outsider, both loves the empire to the point it's painful and resents it, and there's reason for both! this story is not about blind faith and perpetuity, and it's not about revolution either. and i just find it so captivating

[whos-tanya]

Very few things will be quite as chilling to me as when Will hides in Martha’s closet — only to emerge with “The name is Lila.” I cannot describe the amount of confusion and fear I felt hearing that voice during my first playthrough.