#A hell of a lot of fluff

[technically-human]

St. Hilarion's ghost story

[pumpkin-patch-cat]

I'm in love with how much hair Satan has. It's like a fluffy stuffed animal on his head.

Imma hug it :|

[autisticlancemcclain]

The air in his apartment is getting staler, and his scalp is starting to ache.

Everything is going to fail, he thinks to himself, unhelpfully. He doesn’t have time to correct himself because he has time for nothing. He barely has time to breathe. People will be coming in less that two hours, and he’s only just begun decorating; at this rate people will arrive and everything will look barren and horrible and boring and of course no one will say it to his face but he can hear how muttered conversations will go on the way home, how everyone will think he’s —

The front doorknob rattles. Lance gasps, a great, heaving breath forcing its way in and out of his lungs, realizing for the first time his hands are trembling too much to hang the tinsel correctly.

“Lance?” calls a voice, familiar and soft and raspy from years of cigarette smoke. “You in the kitchen?”

Lance finds himself frozen in place. His mind has gone completely blank, and he’s become a statue; thoughtless, still, unblinking, unable to process. As if someone has hooked him up to a remote and pressed pause.

Quiet sounds of boots unlacing echo the empty apartment, followed by socked footsteps. Keith appears round the bend of the front hallway, eyebrows knit together in concern, lips pursed.

“…Lance.”

“Everything is falling apart,” Lance blurts. He twitches suddenly, stiff muscles spasming, and the sudden movement rocks the rickety footstool under him. Quick hands flit out to grip his arms before he falls, steadying him on the ground with a soft, “Woah, dude.”

For several moments the only sound is the synched billowing of their breathing. Keith’s hands slide down his biceps to rest on his elbows, squeezing gently. Slowly, dragging through molasses, Lance’s heart begins to slow.

“You’re freaking out,” Keith says. “There is no need to freak out. Take a breather.”

“I don’t have time for any of this,” Lance says, heartbeat picking up again. “I barely finished the last of the food fifteen minutes ago, decorations aren’t out yet, there’s flour all over my clothes and my face is a mess and I haven’t washed my hair —”

Darting out faster than Lance can track, Keith’s hands come to rest on Lance’s cheeks, thumbs brushing under his eyes — rough, warm, startling. Lance stares at him with wide eyes. Keith smiles back, quickly, widely, crookedly; breathtaking. His hair is twisted back neatly, thick and gorgeous, and festive red sparkles line his eyes. Pretty red stones glitter in his ears to match. The gold bands of his thumb rings are cool against Lance’s cheeks, and the chain he got from his mother rests delicately over black knit fabric. The high-cut neckline of his sweater compliments his frame nicely. His jeans are the only pair he has without rips — a pair Lance forced him to get last time they were shopping together.

The air punches right out of Lance’s lungs, and the last of his worries with it. Keith tucks a curl behind his ear, lingering.

“Go shower and get dressed,” he urges, indigo eyes dark and imploring. “Let me help.”

“Okay,” Lance breathes. He doesn’t move.

Keith smiles. He pulls Lance’s face down at the same time that he stands up on his tiptoes, eyes fluttering shut. Their lips press together softly, one, two, three, and then he pulls away.

Lance makes a noise in the back of his throat. His fingers come up to brush the swell of his lip. “What was that for?”

Keith’s eyes flick up at the doorway. Amusement dances across his expression.

Mistletoe, green and white and fragrant, hangs delicately from the door frame.

“Oh,” says Lance, flushing. He remembers, abruptly, the stepladder and falling into Keith’s arms. He becomes hyperaware of the bareness of the rest of the apartment, hardly lived in one month.

“Lance,” Keith says again, noticing the shift in his expression. He slides a hand down and pats his hip. “Go, you walking mess of anxiety. I got this. Get fixed up. Everything will be fine.”

Lance closes his eyes, exhaling shakily, and nods. It’s too late, now. Whether or not things get finished is irrelevant — he can’t very well host a Christmas party in sweatpants and his grossest, most threadbare hoodie. Whatever Keith can manage while he showers will have to be enough.

He rushes off to his room, tearing off his clothes the second the door locks behind him, practically throwing himself under the stream without bothering to wait for it to heat. He rushes through his routine faster than he maybe ever has in his life, toweling off so roughly the first two layers of his skin go with it, and buzzing around his closet like a horde of wasps on a field of decaying grapes.

There is Nothing to wear. Because of course there isn’t. The outfit he’d picked last night suddenly seems inadequate, and most of his other stuff is still boxed up, so he doesn’t even have the time to go digging. Eventually he just throws on what he’d planned and tells himself to get over it.

Forty-five minutes have passed, by the time he steps out of his bedroom, and the state of his apartment makes him gasp.

String lights are hung delicately along the walls and wrapped around his small tree. Ornaments and decorations sit artistically on every surface, as if each placement was deliberated and perfected. Paper snowflakes, even, that Lance had made in a fit of procrastination to avoid work weeks ago, are hung from the ceiling. Keith stands on the same footstool Lance tumbled from earlier, hanging a few more.

“Keith,” Lance chokes out. “Oh my God.”

His friend shoots him a grin. “What, surprised? I told you I’d handle it. Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I do.” Lance swallows as the words come out on reflex, heavier than he’d ever usually let them. “I just.” He looks pointedly away from where Keith stretches his arms above him, thin paper held delicately between his thick fingers, sweater raising to show a strip of pale skin. “I appreciate it, is all. Turns out you do have some taste, Mullet.”

“Asshole,” Keith huffs.

But he’s smiling.

They spend the next twenty minutes in comfortable silence, putting up the last of the decorations and plating up the last of the food. Lance doesn’t need to say, I should have asked for help from the beginning. Doesn’t need to say, I’ve missed being close to everyone, being a real adult is hard, finally finishing school and growing into a new phase of adulthood, away from all the people I’ve grown up with, is hard. I had to prove I’m handling it. Doesn’t bother admitting, I couldn’t have done it on my own. Thank you for knowing me enough to come even if I couldn’t ask.

Keith brushes his hand on the small of his back as he walks by. Lance smiles, shy and pleased, and sinks into the comfort of Keith knowing, of Keith knowing him; of the proof of their familiarity despite all the new changes. He sighs, long and silent and heavy, something settling in his bones.

When the doorbell rings, and the rest of his friends start pouring in, he’s ready for them.

———

Hours later his giggly and red-cheeked and a little bit tipsy. Pidge brought bottles of liquor and Allura brought novelty shot glasses, and the rest of that story wrote itself. Lance lost count somewhere between Hunk slicing up the honeyed ham he brought and Shiro busting out the Twister. Cheesy Christmas songs have been looping for hours on Veronica’s CD player, and the air smells of plátanos a sweet-smelling incense Adam pulled out, and Lance is drunk on more than just the booze.

“The place looks great!” shouts Shiro, not particularly because it’s loud in here. He looks pretty red-cheeked, too, glass of wine tucked protectively to his chest. Adam watched him in amusement, arms half-raised in preparation for his clumsiness.

“Keith helped,” Lance admits, just as loud. Their shouted conversation draws teasing glances from the rest of their friends, but for once Lance isn’t self-conscious of the stares on him.

They’re drunk. It’s Christmas. Who cares?

“Speaking of, where is Keith?”

Lance frowns. He blinks some of the dizziness out of his eyes — he truly needs to stop walking around, there was way more rum in that daiquiri than he thought, typical Matt — and scans the crowd of people shoved into his tiny apartment. He would recognize that mullet anywhere and from any angle, and it is not currently among the masses.

“Hm,” he says out loud, and wobbles off.

The first place he checks is his bedroom. It’s locked, but he knows Keith can pick a lock and also has no qualms about picking the lock for Lance’s bedroom, because he was raised by wolves. He’s not in there, though, so Lance pivots to checking the bathroom — occupied by Kinkade and Rizavi who are busy sucking face — and the weird little linen closet tucked in a random alcove, which is empty. Keith is, strangely, nowhere to be found, but he couldn’t’ve just — left, right? He would have said goodbye.

Lance pouts. He hopes he would have, because Lance’s emotions are Compromised right now, okay, and if he gets sad he’s going to get sad for real. And Keith leaving just like that will, indeed, make him sad as shit.

“I need t’clear my head,” he mumbles to himself. He pushes through the tight circle Allura, Pidge, and Veronica have formed — he does not want to know, it might be actual witchcraft knowing them — to make his way to Hunk, tugging on his sleeve to pull his attention away from Shay.

“‘M gonna go get air.”

“Don’t die,” Hunks says. Lance nods, moving to stumble away, but Hunk grabs his sleeve and tugs him back. “No, wait, drink this, buddy. Else you’re going to walk into a wall and we’re going to end up in the ER on Christmas again.”

Lance dutifully chugs the three separate glasses of water Hunk hands him, realizing suddenly that he’s parched. By the end of them and also a banana Hunk has him eat, his head has miraculously stopped spinning.

“Hunk,” he says in total seriousness, “I love you. Deeply. From the bottom of my soul.”

Hunk rolls his eyes fondly and presses a kiss to the top of Lance’s head. “I know, you doofus. Begone.”

Lance snickers and heeds his command. As he closes the apartment door behind him, shutting out the noise with it, he breathes a huge sigh of relief. He hadn’t realized how overwhelmed he’d been getting, as much as he’d been having fun.

He understands, immediately, where Keith has gone. He huffs a smile.

“Goober,” he says around a smile, and jogs to the stairwell.

———

A sobering seven flights later, he pushes open the door to the roof, panting breaths turning to steam in the frosty air.

“You are elusive, you fucker.”

Keith looks over his shoulder, smiling in that quick way he does. “And you’re tipsy.”

“Nuh uh! Hunk made me drink water!”

“Right, and that undoes the six shots you took when Pidge dared you.”

“Obviously.”

Keith laughs, a little, and Lance preens like he’s won the whole lottery. Keith most definitely notices. Lance can’t bring himself to care.

“C’mon, let’s sit somewhere not so close to the edge. Knowing your shit luck you’ll go careening over the edge and I’ll have to jump after your dumb ass.”

Ignoring how that makes his heart pound, Lance shoots back, “That wouldn’t solve anything, stupid, we’d just both be dead.”

“A very Merry Christmas to us both, then.”

Keith finally finds a spot on the ground that’s mostly clear of snow and only a little wet. He plops himself down. Lance grimaces, looking down at his expensive and shimmery black slacks before sitting down beside him.

“You good?” Lance asks after a moment.

Keith lets out a breath. “Yeah, it was just getting to be a lot in there.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re basically a cat in human form. Surprised you didn’t bite anyone on your way out.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Make me.”

Keith looks over, eyebrows raised. A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth.

“That was very transparent, you know.”

Lance shrugs, not bothering to hide his own smile.

“Hey, you’re the one who kissed me. Not my fault I’m thinking about it.”

“You think I kissed you to shut you up?”

“A little.”

Keith holds his gaze, challenging. Lance crosses his eyes. Keith snorts, punching him in the shoulder.

Heh. Success.

“I didn’t kiss you to shut you up, you goober. I kissed you because I wanted to.”

“…Did you maybe want to again?”

Now it’s Keith’s turn for his smile to turn shy, for a slight flush to rise on his cheeks. Lance’s own cheeks hurt from grinning.

“No mistletoe up here. Not sure I have an excuse this time.”

“Aha, but that’s where you’re wrong.” Lance digs in his pockets until he finds the little sprig, plucked from when he and Hunk were caught under the doorway sometime after shot number five. He holds it up between them.

Keith’s smile grows. “You really are a genuine actual goober.”

“You seem to like it,” Lance says cheekily.

“It’s fine, I guess. If I had to live with it.”

“Mhm.” Keith’s hand has snaked its way around Lance’s neck. Lance’s own hands are planted firmly on the ground between them, keeping him balanced as he leans closer, closer, closer. “Is that the case.”

“Yeah,” Keith breathes, and then he doesn’t bother with anything else, closing the distance between them. “Merry Christmas.”

Lance sighs into his mouth, tilting his head as their mouths move, as Keith’s long eyelashes tickle his cheek. Merry Christmas, indeed.

———

based on this art by @mothmanavenue

[ronsenburg]

bsky liked this WIP Wednesday excerpt, so I’ll post it here too 🩷

[mars-ipan]

some postgame doodles for pride month

[backstabber128]

I made it to the end of my Arcane prequel fic after a whole year. So here's an obligatory count down of all the art covers from chapter 11 all the way back to 2. (The first chapter is the only one without a cover rip)

It's truly been a wild ride. I still can't believe I put so much effort into it. It gets darker as it goes on and delves into some very heavy topics. It's a deep dive into Vi and Powder coping with their Bridge trauma and their new life in the Lanes.

If you're interested, here's the link to the story for context:

[milo-is-rambling]

Also I fucked up my foot somehow like agitated it where was like broken fractured or whatever before and also there’s a bruise on the top of my foot and I work five days in a row this week so like . Yippee. Hooray. Slay. But also. The agony. Not really it’s not that bad I don’t really notice it when I’m busy but then when I’m not busy I’m always just like moving my fucking feet fidgeting and now it bothers me when I stretch and move that foot again so it’s annnoyyinggggg. Let me happy stim while reading curse you universe !!! Just kidding universe you have been very kind to me recently !

[frankenjoly]

bram and aya +

“I think they’re staring at you.”

“What do you recommend?”

or the word ‘royal’! up to you how many to do alsjfkfj

aaaanddd i combined them :3

“What do you recommend?” Bram asked, letting Aya lead him to a table she had called her usual spot upon entering the cafe. It was a small and colorful place near her school, mostly filled by other students with their friends, but in some cases their parents too. Would that mean no one would deem him as out of place? Unlikely, given how a handful of heads had turned to follow them with little to no regard for acting inconspicuous.

Most of them thought twice when meeting Bram’s best ‘mind your own business’ gaze, though.

“Hm.” Aya tapped her chin with her index finger, clearly considering all the options, since there was apparently nothing the vampire couldn’t straight up tolerate from the place’s menu. Sure, it wouldn’t feed him either, but that had been a given since the start. Not like it bothered Bram much, not when he could still taste food. “All the cakes are absolutely wonderful, but if I had to pick just one, maybe the apple pie? Or ditch those and go for the mochis. And for drinkin’...” She stopped for a second, glancing in the same way Bram was proceeding to look at. “Oh, yeah. I think they’re looking at you.”

“Have I not done enough to…” It was now his own turn to make a pause, properly choosing the words. “... appear fairly common-looking by modern standards?” 

The clothes he was currently wearing, if maybe more fancy than the usual while looking at everyone else, were appropriate to the times and weather. He had styled his hair so his pointy ears wouldn’t stand out much. And there wasn’t much he could do about the scars crossing his cheeks but those weren’t that strange either.

So what was the issue? Was it simply because he was a newcomer there? Would people who were familiar with Aya’s presence find off-putting that she wasn’t accompanied by her actual, biological father? Or--?

Speaking about Aya, her first reaction towards the question was giggling.

“I think they don’t have any problem with your looks, but the other way around.” The giggle turned into a big, amused smile. “Don’t be too obvious if you wanna take a peek, but for example… one of the ladies over there’s downright blushin’ and all.”

“Excuse me?” To be completely honest, Bram had understood what she meant. He just needed a few minutes to process the whole situation. Or hours.

“What? Bet they’re gushin’ as if they just found one of their fave romance novel main dudes just turned out to be true. Which kinda checks out, since you’re from ages ago and have that royal vibe thing goin’ on.”

Bram opened his mouth for a second, then closed it, then opened it again.

“You know I am no literal royalty.” Plus, calling her his princess was more about devotion and endearment and… yes, maybe a bit based on fantasy stories too, like the ones he had told another certain little girl back then. But still.

“I doubt they think that either.” Aya shrugged. “Anyway, whatcha gonna do with that sudden wave of popularity?”

“I--” Bram, meanwhile, let out a brief sigh. “Honestly, I have no interest in acknowledging those.”

“Why? Already got a sweetheart and whatnot?”

“You could say so.” He had barely finished speaking, when Aya’s jaw dropped.

(Also on ao3.)

[nalpurex]

i got souyo brainworms again and i gotta share some thoughts i have

this ones a long one so ill put a 'keep reading' thing here just in case yall dont wanna scroll past a wall of text

basically some headcanons about a healthy mix of chad narukami and normal yu, injecting loads of gap moe into this guy

(and it eventually devolves into some weird semi-story because my brains really spiralling here)

okok so, hear me out, chad narukami isnt that bad as an idea...? maybe as a more calm iteration, just another layer to yu

in the p4 manga, we get to see some of yu's backstory. (its been a while since ive read it so i might get some details wrong but) his parents are very busy people, always working and moving around, so yu's always moving around with them

because of this, hes a very independent but also lonely kid. poor guy doesnt talk much with his own mom and dad, and he never really have a good enough chance to form lasting friendships

so when he moves to inaba and starts making friends there, hes like 'oh i really want to keep these guys around...' so he starts putting up a bit of a persona (hah), some cool, unfazed guy that everyone can rely on thinking thats what people might like more. to his credit, it works pretty well, but its a bit stifling for yu himself. hes never had this many friends though, so he'll keep it up

we all know yosuke admires him quite a fair bit as is, just as a dependable friend and a strong leader. he looks up to yu in these aspects, thinking hes basically the perfect guy. (and lets never unpack that thought.) talented, charming, 'gets all the ladies', that kind of stuff

at some point its just the two of them, maybe walking home from school or something, yu gets pretty comfortable and his facade slips a little. maybe he says something completely silly, or heavens forbid theres a stray cat along the road! ("awww look at the little guy, cmeree, pspsps- oh- ahem- uh, its pretty cute...") it surprises yosuke quite a bit. he's thinking about it a lot as they part ways, it was... definitely a new side to his partner, but its also not a bad thing...

after that, yosuke starts noticing more small things about yu. whenever he invites anyone to share his lunch, its always something they like. whenever the IT are talking, he makes sure no one feels left out. he likes cats, a lot more than hes willing to show, and he loves nanako a whole lot too. his partner's... a bit of a softie under that calm and collected vibe, isnt he?

(alternatively, it'd be really funny if the entire IT knew? like "yeah, hes got a straight face all the time and sparkles fly around him whenever he strikes a pose, but hes got a dedicated schedule for hanging out with us and hes always asking when we're free. hes a big puppy, really.")

anyways, yosuke tries to encourage him to show more of this other side of him. stuff like "c'mon, we'll think you're cool either way!" and yu at first is a little hesitant, so yosuke suggests he just try it out with him

he feels some pride about it, because hes the first to learn about this side of yu! his partner trusts him the most, hes the most comfortable around him! (whats this strange other feeling? hm. dont like that.)

yu takes a little more time with the others, but theyre very welcoming about it nonetheless. specifically, they find it very charming! (making cute shapes in your bento? sewing cute stuffed toys with kanji? playing with literally every single stray cat you lay your eyes on? hell yeag.)

of course the facade doesnt completely shatter, because some parts of it are still true to yu. its just that he'll now crack the dumbest joke youve heard in your life with the same old straight face

(aaand now to derail for the sappy stuff huhuhu)

because yosuke's usually the first to be exposed to whatever new shenanigans yu's up to, eventually he starts getting some... weirder things. he brings some of it up to the other IT members and he looks insane, like:

"what? he hasnt been giving you guys origami?"

"why would he? i mean itd be cool, but thats just his part-time job isnt it? hes probably sick of paper cranes!"

"cranes... haha, yeah..." (as he thinks about the row of stupid paper animals sitting on his windowsill)

yu over time starts getting real sweet with yosuke, and he kind of gets the feeling he should just... keep this to himself...? especially when he doesnt see him acting this way with anyone else, and a small part of him wants to keep it to himself. all of this, just for him.

but that would be kind of gay, wouldnt it? hes not gay, is he...? he gets pretty happy whenever yu smiles at him, whenever he does something for him, but its just because he appreciates him as his partner... right?

eventually it all comes to a head when yu invites him to that... that spot high up in inaba. (ykno the one, its got the railing and shit.)

yosuke's climbing the hill, wondering whats yu gonna tell him, and at the top he sees him already waiting there as the sun's about to set on a nice breezy day

he kinda jokes a bit about it, like "damn did you ask me to come here now for the atmosphere?" but yu's strangely quiet

so they kinda just stand in a bit of an awkward silence before yu clears his throat... and confesses to yosuke.

...

they just. stare at each other for a bit. yosuke's at a loss, heat slowly rising in his cheeks, because what the hell?

and then yu explodes into a flustered mess, bumbling about "hey yeah man you dont have to accept if you dont wanna, i was just saying things yknow? you dont really have to-"

yosuke cuts him off, sighing a little. he tells him its okay, hes kinda had a feeling he felt the same way but he wasnt ready yet... and now his partner's confessing to his face, he cant really put it off anymore, can he?

("by the way, did you plan this? like, the timing and everything?"

"i... had a hard enough time saying 'i like you' with a straight face as it was, i kind of had to..."

"... ah.")

[foreverppl]

I so appreciate authors who really stick to their guns both in terms of characterization and overall narrative decisions.

[faded-mage]

Avise

Avise crumpled on top of her bed at Skyhold. She was covered in bruises and cuts, sore, and just outright exhausted. Since her return from Minrathous she had little time to sit still, the moment she stepped into Skyhold her days were filled with war meetings, shouting nobles and darkspawn. Her muscles ached, her head hurt. Cassandra almost physically dragged the Inquisitor out of the war room to allow herself some rest. But Avise did not want to rest, what Rook showed her at the Lighthouse sat in the back of her mind and it was not something she had the mental capacity to consider or dwell on. Solas painted a mural of them in his home. In a hidden, locked room.

He had multiple paintings of those from the Inquisition and more than one of herself. It hurt to think about. The one of her in the dress she wore to Halamshiral hit the hardest, especially due to what he titled the painting. Her mind wandered to the evening in their lodgings after everything was said and done. How he knelt in front of her and said he wanted to worship her until his final breath. It was not just her own pride that yearned for him to be as broken hearted as she was. He appeared to miss her as much as she missed him. Which only complicated her feelings over everything else the man had done. He wasn’t beyond redemption, she was sure of it. But she was not sure it would be her choice.

She groaned as she rolled over on her back, sinking into the vast number of blankets and furs that lay across the bed. Cozy, warm. Soft. Her exhaustion allowed sleep to creep into her mind slowly. Feeling as if she was floating through the Fade. The swirling memories of her mind focused on a single one. It made her chest ache with it’s presence but a warm feeling spread across her body. It was a happy one, one of the happier ones she still had.

- - -

Avise was somewhere deep in Ferelden. At some point their trip through the country felt like they were going in circles - repeating houses, farms and trees. She did not dislike Ferelden by any means, she thoroughly enjoyed the rustic quality of the country. It felt so much more like her home than the snowy mountains of Skyhold, or the snow covered town that was once Haven. Ferelden felt real and warm, there was mud and grass, and trees. Trees that had leaves on their branches, that she could scale to the top and hide away if she wished to.

They also had more time to spare than usual. A few days past Crestwood and the Inquisitor and her party were far into the forest. They hadn’t seen a farm, a building, nothing for a few miles. Avise already removed her boots to walk barefoot in the dirt and grass. While she had slowly become accustomed to Inquisition footwear - why did they make the boots so heavy? - she still preferred to be barefoot if she could manage it. Solas appeared to agree, though he rarely put boots on even if he was wading through snow.

Stopping for the evening gave everyone a respite from the ride. Dorian quickly set up his tent and sprawled out inside grumbling something about how numb his legs were. Cassandra never really took downtime as a way to unwind, so she was somewhere gathering firewood or at least trying to do something productive. Though maybe she was hiding from the rest of them while she read her Swords & Shields serial Varric gifted to her. The knowledge that their strong, gruff Seeker was also a closet romantic was one of the best things Avise had learned about the woman thus far.

Solas was quietly reading by the fire. Normally Avise would have little hesitation distracting Solas from whatever he was doing but the night felt quiet and peaceful. Everyone deserved a few moments to themselves so Avise slipped away into the woods. It was dusk and she located a small clearing near the encampment. Every muscle in Avise’s body felt tight. They had been riding for days and encountered nothing but farmers, if anything at all. No Venatori, no darkspawn, no Red Templars. Nothing. It felt like her magic was waiting to be released but no where to direct it.

Standing in the small clearing and away from the prying eyes of others Avise decided it would be the best time to work on a few spells her trainer had gone over with her before they left Skyhold. The Knight-Enchanter training had been thrilling for her on many levels. How physically present she felt in her body as she wielded the spirit blade, how fully one with herself she felt when combining her body and her connection to the Fade. It also presented her with the opportunity to learn physical combat skills with Commander Cullen and their soldiers. Her confidence overflowed when she was deep in the thick of it but when learning something new she reverted to that shy, unconfident child who made mistakes with her spells and was expecting to be punished for it.

Shaking those thoughts away, she recentered herself and allowed the shaky exhale of breath to release stress from her body. What were the techniques the trainer wanted her to focus on? Mostly regarding barriers, if she remembered correctly. After a particularly nasty hit from one of the Red Templar abominations they felt it would be beneficial to learn how to increase how long she could maintain a barrier. It expended a lot of mana for her at the time and she felt so physically drained maintaining that barrier when in the middle of battle. But if came down to her facing Corypheus eventually, now allowing him to touch her at all would be a boon. She needed every advantage she could get.

Along with the barriers, she was supposed to work on a Fade Cloak spell. She didn’t quite grasp it yet, something something vibrating your being to step through those who blocked your path. Avise pushed those thoughts away, no. Focus on the barriers. The other could be done… eventually. Probably.

Avise hopped from one foot to the other, preparing and focusing her mind on her task. The only sounds that hit her ears were crickets that echoed in the clearing. A deep exhale as the spirit blade rippled into existence in her hand. She felt her magic curl around her hand, extending into the hilt before the shimmering blade came into focus. A small gesture from her hand and she felt the barrier surge across her skin. Okay, that felt strong. She focused on the feeling of the barrier on her skin. Normally, Avise knew when the barrier begin to decay and it was almost always immediately. Once it was cast she would drop her focus on it and then move into the next stance, readying herself for whatever spell she needed to prepare next. Or to focus on what enemies were getting too close.

But since she was not in the thick of battle, she had the ability to focus on the barrier. Expending more energy and focus to keep it stronger, for longer. Avise felt her entire body tense with the concentration and she was able to hold off the decay for only a few more seconds. The last remnants of her magic dissipating into the air. She felt dizzy. How weak was she that she could only hold it together a few seconds longer? Frustration filled her and she let out a frustrated grunt.

“Vhenan, a few seconds can change the course of a battle.” Solas’ voice drifted from behind her and she turned to see him leaning on his shoulder against a tree, arms folded across his chest. Avise let her head drop forward, another groan of frustration. Solas never judged her for learning new magics, quite the opposite. He never made her feel weak or powerless but standing next to him and Dorian she felt so… unremarkable in terms of her own skill. Dorian made necromancy look easy and Solas pulled from the Fade as naturally as taking a breath.

Solas did not move but she saw his expression change. It went from his normal stony stare to one that softened as Avise drew within herself once again. A small smile at the edges of his lips. “Do you always get frustrated when you do not immediately understand something?” His eyebrow quirked and she could hear the small amount of amusement in his voice. Avise let her spirit blade fade, the air feeling cold against her skin once it was gone, she gave him a small smile in return trying to hide her frustrations, “Would you believe me if I told you no?”

The elf shook his head, “Absolutely not.” He had the strangest ability to truly see who she was underneath it all. Beyond the Herald of Andraste, the Inquisitor. Solas could see who she was at her core no matter how she forced herself to hide it. Some hurts took years to fade, if they ever did.

He pushed himself from the tree and walked into the clearing. Part of her wanted him to offer to help. He was incredibly skilled at magic and she found him to be a particularly good teacher. Imparting the wisdom he gained through his years traveling alone. Another part of her chided herself for wanting the help, that if she could not master this on her own, then was she worth anything as a mage?

Solas appeared to notice the war that sat in her mind and offered an alternative, “You are working on lengthening how long your barrier lasts, correct?” She nodded slowly, her eyes narrowed slightly as she waited for him to expand, “Then let me help. Standing quietly in the middle of a forest with nothing driving you other than your own thoughts is not likely the best way for you to master a new skill. You need to fight and defend, and feel the magic grow. That is who you are, that is what I’ve seen. I will spar with you but you must protect yourself. I will only hold back a little.”

Avise’s lips curled into a smirk. Okay, I like that idea. He was strong and if she could maintain a barrier against his advances then she could call it a victory. It gave her the chance to figure it out on her own without having him hold her hand through the process. “Ar lath ma, vhenan.” She said in response, the words bubbling forth. He really did see her.

The Inquisitor took a few steps back from him, her spirit blade once again shimmering into existence. She would not be the one on offensive but she still needed to have both the spirit blade and her barriers active for it to matter. “Alright, apostate. You’re on.” Her tone was teasing and he chuckled in response. Solas grabbed his staff that was leaning against the tree and turned towards her. For a few moments a glint of mischievousness settled in his expression until was gone.

Avise allowed her barrier to engulf her once more, holding onto it strong while she stared at Solas’ eyes. A firm, “Begin” dropped from her lips and Solas did not hesitate a moment to throw fire in her direction. It reflected off the barrier with little issue. She felt a small dent in the magic but it did not budge. Good.

Solas released a few more sets of spells in clusters. He moved and turned the staff like she had seen him hundreds of times before. It still filled her with a level of awe, how gracefully he pulled from the Fade. Avise watched with amusement as the spells continued to try and chip away at her barrier. She could feel their heat, their static, their cold as they were absorbed by her own magic.

After another spell she could feel the barrier was just almost gone but the familiar tingle of her own strength returning to her, even after focusing on the barrier for so long. A small wave of her hand and the barrier strengthened once more. Solas watched her intently and moved forward, forcing her to be on the defensive while on the move.

She could feel the laughter bubbling from her before she could stop it. Avise was fully enjoying it now. Watching Solas’ spells hit her without hurting her then fizzling into nothing felt amazing. Her laughter only pushed Solas to try harder and move faster. He only used spells she knew of, ones she could cast herself up to that point.

The elf swung his staff out to the side and a ripple of magic appeared to Avise’s left. Oh shit. She recognized the spell, he used it often when they were in the field. It pulled whoever was within its grasp to its center, often pulling them directly into the ground. Shit, shit, shit. With her barrier still active, she fade stepped away from the spell before it completed, finding herself within a few feet of Solas. He seemed pleased by her quick thinking, only to throw another spell in her direction. This one formed a large boulder from the essence of the Fade.

Her barrier was weakened to the point she knew it could not withstand that spell at all. And it would hurt if it hit her. She did not have the magic to cast another barrier so her entire body tensed and she closed her eyes, waiting for the impact. It never came.

The sound of the boulder slamming into the tree behind her made her eyes flutter open. Avise felt her entire body vibrating along with her magic. It felt like static and tasted like ozone on her tongue. She glanced down to see that her essence rippled along with the air around her. After a few more seconds it stopped. Was that the Fade Cloak spell Commander Helaine kept requesting for her to practice? A small gasp came from Avise that turned into full blown laughter, “Holy shit, Solas.” The Inquisitor felt giddy, vibrant. The spell felt natural the moment it happened. It erupted from her and she finally understood what her trainer was trying to tell her.

Solas looked at pleased as she felt. She ran up to him and leapt into his arms and he caught her as her legs wrapped around his waist. “Did you see that?” He bounced her once so he could readjust his grip around her thighs, keeping her steady in the air. “I did. When did you learn that spell?” Avise shook her head quickly, “Just now?” A sheepish grin appeared on her lips, “I mean. Commander Helaine harped on me to work on it but I’ve been putting it off. Guess I just needed the threat of a fade boulder to my face.”

A happy sigh came from Avise, feeling accomplished for the first time in awhile. Some small victory for herself. Solas looked up at her, the soft smile still on his own lips, “It is quite the beautiful face. I am glad there was no… fade boulder… that would have harmed it.” Avise knew he was resisting the urge to use the spell’s proper name but he relented for her. The energy that sat inside of her continued to crackle across her skin, her excitement exuding from the woman in waves. Solas continued, “Do you feel better now, vhenan?” Being that close to him, she felt the thrum of his own magical residue from their spar. She could see the small amount of sweat that built up on his forehead. A chaste kiss placed against his lips before she responded, “I do. I know it is silly to compare myself to you and to Dorian but sometimes I do feel like…” she paused, trying to grasp the words that filled her worry, “I do not have the potential to be strong enough to push forward. That my magic has gone to waste because I am not knowledgeable enough, or practiced enough. Or that I am unable to be good enough. A waste of a mage.”

Her voice wasn’t sad, more contemplative as she spoke. The longer she did so, the more Solas expression changed. “Vhenan.” His tone was serious, “Many of your strengths are those I do not find within myself and they have nothing to do with your magic. When I knelt next to you while you were chained in Haven asleep, fighting the will of the anchor. I could feel the strength of your magic. You give yourself too little credit in both magic and in life.”

Avise smiled at him again, “Sweet talker.” A longer kiss pressed forcefully against his lips that elicited a soft moan from her own. Solas quickly strode over to hold her against a nearby tree. His mouth roaming across her skin…

- - -

“Wakey, wakey. Sleepy Inky.” A few pokes to Avise’s forehead stirred her from her dreams. It had been a good one. One of the happier moments with Solas. When he was not hiding behind the mask of Fen’harel. Sera’s big blue eyes were in her line of sight and she noticed the large grin on her lips. “Harding’s mum made everyone breakfast and Cully wanted to speak to you about something or other but I told him I’d do the honors.” Avise groaned and rolled over, exhaling deeply. The sore muscles were still there, though significantly better than the day before and she actually felt rested for the first time in… months.

Sera sat on the bed next to Avise, “You looked like you were havin’ a real good dream. I saw that smile. Wanna talk about it?” Absolutely not, thought Avise before she answered, “Just thinking about times before all this bullshit.” Avise waved her hand around, gesturing vaguely to the air. If Sera had the chance she would rip Solas apart for everything he had done. Which he likely deserved, Avise conceded. But none of them had seen under his mask like she had. Sitting up slowly, her hands moving to pull the messy, wavy hair into a knot at the top of her head. Breakfast sounded perfect.

“Alright, Sera where’s this breakfast?” The rogue pulled her from the bed and led her downstairs.

[lillardshusband]

Guys what happened to regular fanfics. I mean ones without nsfw. Can i have my angsty romance without word porn please :'(

[anipgarden]

ive done some spinning with milkweed fluff!! it stayed together but i had to keep it super wet to do the actual spinning. i made it into a little square and its so soft and fluffy!! but yes its very difficult to spin as the fibres are very short [i spin with a top whorl drop spindle]

Oooh, cool! Honestly I feel you're not the first person I've heard of on Tumblr spinning milkweed fluff, which makes it feel all the more wild that most online sites that mention it say its impossible???? Wild.

Out of curiosity, asides from the square, what would you find spun milkweed useful for making? I ask this not as someone who's ever spun thread or someone interested in taking it up, just as a curious passerby lol.

[yyawnjun]

soul w 5 please please please please plz 😓

hi hello!! unfortunately, this event is closed for now😭. Soon, I will host a similar one with these prompts and many more, and I promise I will remember about this ask <3

[alo-officialgf]

lewis hamilton, king of my heart 🥹

[pyrriax]

current prompt hell statistics / numbers:

current longest wc day: 6

current shortest wc day: 5

completion: 5/7

i took like most of today/day 7 off to work on other stuff so i'm getting a super late start. but i have 1/3 prompts concepted so it's going