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two muses will be taken off of this blog because I decided to go ahead and revamp their blogs :3c

i’ll update the muse list to reflect this change soon <3

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Some Dragon Age 2~~~ :”D

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FRANK GRILLO NEEDS TO BE STOPPED

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here he is, the biggest douche in the universe (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

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continued from x with @apogexn

“ ... Touché.” There’s a hint of a smirk against his mouth as he raises the half empty wine bottle to his lips. It might seem as though he drinks quite a bit, but it’s only on special occasions. Though if he’s being honest, those special occasions have been growing in number. Could anyone blame him? He had thought the supply of his now deceased Master’s wine had run out months prior, and he felt ... Quite accomplished. But upon finding yet another well hidden supply, Fenris knew he had to drink those too. Destroying his precious wine would be too easy. As a slave, Fenris was barely allowed to touch his precious wine ( the only time was only when serving to Danarius or his guests ) so guzzling the liquid down without a care in the world was just that extra slap in the face.

As if literally ripping the man’s heart from his chest wasn’t enough.

“Something wrong?” He repeats the question in mock offense, “absolutely not. In fact, never better.” Such moods were rare for the elf, and he wasn’t about to blame the wine  ( even though it was most certainly the wine loosening him up a bit. ) 

“Danarius is dead,” he’s been dead for months, but Fenris never tired of saying it, “and I’m tainting his wine with my very presence. Fancy tainting it with me?” A raised eyebrow —- another smirk -— and he’s handing her the wine bottle without waiting for an answer.

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i’ll be there || bucky & steve

continued from discord with @nastylilhobbits

A loud laughter takes him by surprise. It had been an age since he heard himself laugh so genuinely, without a single care in the world. It seemed like forever since he got to experience Steve's sassy humour, and he realised just then how much he truly and sincerely missed it. How he missed every single thing about the now small blond.

"Mrs. Bedelia," he says, pondering the name before squinting his eyes as if reading words hovering just in front of his face, "was she the mean old baker's wife? Or am I thinking about Mrs. Kesler? I remember one of 'em was meaner than an old bull." He laughs again, though it dissipates as soon as Steve rests his head against his chest. Surely, their bad times were behind them and the future would be far brighter.

Surely, all of the pain and suffering they had both experienced would soon be over. Surely.

"Yea, pal. Gotta clean it up a bit. Sure it's dirtier than holy hell, but we can take a bath if that's what ya want." A kiss is placed against the top of Steve's hair before Bucky pushes him off with ease in order to lift himself from the couch. "I'll go get that taken care of, yea? Y'just stay right here an' I'll be right back."

He's almost positive that the stubborn boy would completely disregard what was said and follow him along anyway as he trotted out of the living area and into the tiny bathroom. Thankfully, the tub wasn't too dirty, but it definitely still needed a good scrub with a towel.

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VASILIJA —

starter // @aflockofbirds (cullen)

Skyhold was a remarkably charming structure in the midst of the Frostbacks. The sort of infrastructure so well hidden that it was impossible to guess it could be there. To Vasilija, though it was a bit chilly, it was handsome, aesthetically pleasing in all the right ways. However, despite Skyholds many charms, it did not beat the people residing within its nigh impenetrable walls. From the simpler folk like the nurse and the cute barmaid and the gardeners, to the prominent figures like Sera and Varric and Leliana, all intrigued Vasilija to an incredible degree. Such a wide array of people with various histories and occupations and opinions, joined together in one place by the same cause. It was amazing, really, how things worked like that. They didn’t work like that in the sea; things were more complicated there.

And while Sera had her seemingly unyielding list of pros, and Dorian had his impeccable attitude that Vasilija adored, nothing quite beat the existence of Commander Cullen Rutherford. She did not know him, of course, but she did know of him. Hard not to in a world like Thedas, where names and titles meant everything. Cullen’s rank in the Inquisition really only bolstered his reputation further, and Vasilija found his presence in Skyhold the most fascinating thing there.

Of course, as someone with in depth knowledge of various battle tactics, sailing, pirates, and pirate pathways into parts of Thedas, it seemed only natural that she would offer some of her assistance to the commander. If only because it gave her a perfectly good excuse to actually properly introduce herself to him.

“Your reputation precedes you, Commander.” It was a drawl, almost a coo, followed by a well-placed smirk. Vasilija leaned against the opened doorway to Cullen’s quarters, backed by the early morning light trickling over Skyhold’s battlements. “I hope I’m not interrupting?”

There he was ( as per usual ): nose buried so far in his paperwork it was a wonder he was capable of much else. Oh, but he was. Cullen was capable of so much more and that's precisely why he was thankful for the much needed break the move to Skyhold allowed him. At Haven, he was the only one capable of training the new recruits and the only one capable of rallying everyone else together so that they never once lost hope. It was a change, he had to admit, from his time with the Templars. Rallying wasn't his job. Attempting to fill people with hope was never his job, nor was it ever something he was particularly good at until Hawke took Knight Commander Meredith down, at least. He wasn't proud of the days before the Inquisition. He wasn't proud of what he had allowed himself to become in the name of justice and 'law'.

It was such a thing he didn't like thinking about either, but unfortunately with the break from training to allow him some time to worry over paperwork, it also gave him plenty of time to be alone with his own dark and desperate thoughts.

So of course, when a voice reaches his ears, and after the initial but quick panic, he's thankful for the interruption. His eyes reach the owner of the voice, though he glances back down at his  ( unfinished ) paperwork, realising that he hardly did any of it. Too busy thinking about stuff that barely even mattered any longer. What was the point of having time if he was just going to waste it on the trivial matter that was his mind?

"Oh!" He says with a start, immediately lifting himself from his chair. "No, no — ah..."

Maker's breath, did he truly forget her name? 

He didn't mean to forget her name, though in his defense, it was only told to him in passing. He never had much time to meet the Inquisitor's companions after all. At least not personally.

"—- Ah, no you aren't interrupting at all. Was there uh, was there something you needed?"

A pink blush touched warm cheeks as he managed to get a better look at her face. He certainly wouldn't be forgetting her after this.

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     they turned me into a WEAPON && told me to make peace.

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i just realized I never finished setting this heckin’ blog up , , , omg please excuse the lack of information !!! 

I just never intended to advertise it, but I figured ‘hey the peeps in the Tolkien fandom are rad as hell so they can follow me here’ >)

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@kingoftheravens ( my finger heckin’ slipped )

Words are hard to come by lately between the two of them. He fucked up and he knows he did, but what is Brock Rumlow if not stubborn and prideful? There’s an ache in his chest and a lump in his throat; he can’t take it anymore. He’s kept his distance well enough, kept himself from touching the other in the night: lifting himself from the couch and joining his lover in bed. 

He wouldn’t dare.

But he’s realized the date and frowns at his empty hands. Perhaps Bucky got him something meaningful; the two had been spending quite a bit of time with one another, after all. He had basically become a second parent, or rather, the new parent. He knows he’s disappointed not only the household (yes, birds included), but his own son as well. 

The silence, despite there being a fair amount of people around him, is deafening. 

It’s gotta end.

Swallowing his pride, Brock rises from the couch. His feet are numb, cold like ice, as if he just sauntered into a shallow and frozen lake. His nerves are fried at this point; he’s wasted far too much time worrying instead of acting and he’s exhausted. Exhausted with the game he created himself. 

Loki isn’t far, much to his relief. And his back is turned to him as he’s sat at the table, also to his relief. There’s a fleeting moment where he realizes he could probably turn away and pretend as though he had never gotten up in the first place, but he’s sure Loki is probably well aware of his presence behind him. There’s no turning back now. 

With more than a beat of hesitation, Brock closes the distance as best he can before leaning down, careful to avoid the back of the chair in order to wrap strong arms around the other man. Instantly, as if this is exactly what he was born for, his face is nestled against his neck and he inhales the familiar scent he spent so long grieving. He hadn’t intended to kiss him, but his mouth is already parted so that he can at least sample the smallest taste.

Fortunately, he’s able to hold back a groan, and instead whispers those two very important little words against the side of his neck:

“I’m sorry.”

Oh, but he isn’t done. Although he doesn’t have a material gift for his little lion man, Brock doesn’t want him to think he forgot about his special day. 

“If it means anythin’ t’ya.. Happy Birthday, Lion.”

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TRESPASSER

It isn’t a surprise to him really. Not that he’s happy about it, but Aldan has been through much worse after a small storm, and truth be told, crashing into a bunch of rocks was almost a blessing because he needed a new boat anyway… alright, he couldn’t lie to himself anymore as he spluttered and choked up water. He had been doing his best to avoid the rocks when he’d noticed them last second, but all he could really afford to do at this point with the intention to keep himself safe, was abandon ship. And look on with horror as his precious princess cracked and groaned under the pressure of the shore.

The Captain wouldn’t admit to the whimper of disappointment that escaped his throat.

Shaking himself off with little results once he hit land, the dripping man doesn’t make it a step or two on shore before he hears the harsh threat uttered toward him. Aldan does halt immediately, knowing full well this wasn’t territory he was familiar with, and with all things considered, he could be in a lot of danger right now. He hadn’t a thing on him, as they were all on the boat… and possibly floating downstream by this point. Aldan would hang his head in shame if he wasn’t afraid of getting an arrow put through it.

“Whoa, whoa there, darling.” He grins, laying the charm on thick the moment he sets eyes on the other– the form is difficult to make out at first, but the threat is very real. Lifting his hands in a placating manner, the man merely shakes his head slowly, offering a rumbling chuckle of confusion. “I mean no harm. The only harm done tonight is to my boat.” Motioning with his chin over his shoulder, he dares to take a half step forward, if only to get a better look. “Come along now, I mean no harm. Trust in me.”

The elven guard nearly sputters in disgust at the use of the word 'darling' and again when he's told to trust the other. Trust? Trust? He could have and would have laughed out loud if it wasn't for the fact that he could face some serious consequences if anyone else saw what had happened. At this point, what is he supposed to do? Taking the trespasser in would be wise, but what of him and his patrol? None of this should have happened at all, and he would most certainly hear all about it if they were discovered. Not that his Lady was cruel. Galadriel was a wise and understanding Queen; a benevolent ruler. He merely didn't wish to disappoint her or have his skill questioned in any sort of way.

Gritting his teeth, jaw tightening, Haldir drops his bow to aim at his feet once he takes a step, releasing an arrow as a threat. "What part of halt do you not understand? Do not move. Am I to spell it out for you as well? I would be more than happy to if you need the assistance."

He needs to think of a plan, and quick. It wouldn't be long at all before the next patrol would be on their way down to take over for Haldir, and then what? Being caught red handed and having his business spoken to the Queen before he even gets a chance isn't what he had in mind for the night. Perhaps if he keeps watch over him for the night, maybe sneak him into the heart of Lórien itself and hide this human in his chambers.... No, no. That wouldn't work at all.

There seemed to only be one option. Was he willing to take that chance? What choice did he truly have.

"Tell me your name and tell me your business. Then I will think about allowing you to move."

under the willow tree || Haldir & Aldan

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under the willow tree || Haldir & Aldan

@nastylilhobbits :3c

Another dark and uneventful night; it shouldn't be a surprise to him anymore. Nothing ever happened in the quiet sanctuary that was Lothlórien. Despite the quiet, Haldir can't help but to feel a sense of uncalm, as if there was something just out of sight but ready to pounce him like a stalking cat. Paranoia begins to dig into the depths of his mind, momentarily fearful that he missed something along his patrol and they were under attack —-

-— until of course a commotion down the river bank catches him by surprise. He doesn't hear shouting, or any voices at all, really. Only a rather faint sound which reminded him of wood against rocks. A boat, perhaps? How did a boat get past the bridge patrol? Either way, it was his duty to make sure the trespasser didn't take a single step onto the sacred grounds. Bow drawn and ready, Haldir makes his way toward the noises in the darkness, only daring to speak when he sees a shadowed shape.

"If you value your life, you will halt." As to not draw attention to the scene, the elf keeps his voice down, though it's no less threatening than he intends. "State your business this instant or I will not hesitate to put an arrow through your head."

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HAZEL

A sigh of relief takes her the moment the other leans back, baby blues gazing at her brother across the room with concern. She has always wanted what’s best for her brother– and she would go through Hell in order to make sure that he’s safe and sound. The melodic tone of the man seated on the edge of her bed has Hazel finally relaxing slightly, eyes turning back to match his gaze before she shifts herself up the bed to lean back more comfortably.

At his outstretched hand, Hazeldine merely stares at his palm with curiosity before she hesitantly lifts her arm, placing her hand delicately in his with a quirk of her brow. She wasn’t entirely sure of this situation, but she does recognize the name in the very least. “Solas…” She mumbles softly, nodding once before shifting closer to seat herself closer to him. “What can you tell me about all this? How can you help?”

"Where should I begin?" His eyes move from her face and to her hand almost immediately. To him, at the moment, the only thing that's important is the mark against both of their hands. Deep within himself, there's a rumble of anguish as he stares upon the pulsating green flickers —- they weren't supposed to get in the way.

"It seems you hold the key to our salvation, to say the very least. What you carry on your hand can seal the rifts as you saw before, yes?" Delicate fingers from his other hand play along the dark colours. It's warm, it's stable, fortunately for the Dalish in front of him. "Though it doesn't seem to be strong enough, even with the both of you and your combined efforts, to seal the one that truly matters. As of right now, Cassandra, Leliana, and Cullen are discussing our next move." His jaw clenches, suddenly realizing and accepting that there was no way to get the anchor out of her skin. She had spoiled it unintentionally and now his plan would have to change drastically.

"At the moment, we cannot expect help from the rebel mages nor from the templars, and that's precisely where you come in. You and your brother must prove to either of them, or perhaps both, that our cause is just. That we need their help." His eyes trail along her arm, up her shoulder, and finally rest once more against her face. "But of course no one is expecting you to jump right into it just yet. You both need the rest, but you may be interested to know that many are calling you both Andraste's Heralds."

He pauses to release a chuckle at the title himself. "How does that make you feel, Herald?"

the dawn will come || Trystane, Solas & Hazel