#dovabunny

[ghcstao3]

I need recs for ghoap blogs to follow, some not abandoning ship with quality content😭😭😭

sure! here’s a few i can think of for the time being, that i'm pretty certain will still be making ghoap content (some also post outside of ghoap though still cod related, but those posts are just as good!!)

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(just avoiding proper tags as to not bother anyone)

@/cod-dump, @/forestshadow-wolf, @/snootlestheangel, @/starrynights-and-rainyfandoms, @/dovabunny, @/tanked-up, @/wispscribbles, @/aidenlydia, @/salemlinnet, @/amazeingartist, @/thorougly-melted-brains, @/asteriiiart, @/temeyes

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+ and for anyone else who still plans on creating ghoap content, please feel free to self-promo under this post in any way!! i am happy to show that the content will not be going anywhere :)

[infinite-riches]

My Sweet Johnny Boy

Summary: “You’re gonna pull your hair out, mate,” The voice was soft, slightly deep, dripping in a thick Manchester accent.

“So? Everyone hates it anyways…”

Or: Johnny gets bullied and Simon fixes it (High School AU)

Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x Simon "Ghost" Riley

Word Count: 1131

Warnings: mentions of terminal illness, child abuse

A/N: This lovely one-shot was inspired by the ficlet 'What Makes Soap Soap' written by DovaBunny on Ao3!

Shout out to ebi_lal on Ao3 for beta reading this for me! <3

And as always feel free to leave feedback/constructive criticism <3

AO3 Link (if you prefer): My Sweet Johnny Boy

Trying to adjust to a new school in the middle of the year had been torture. Not to mention the heartbreak of having to leave Scotland behind. All his friends, four hours away. All because his family had to move to Manchester. 

His saving grace had been the phys ed class, being able to dump all his pent-up emotions into football, maybe even with a chance to get scouted for the county team. Football allowed him to tune it out. He could cast everything aside and have a moment of peace in his mind.

As always, the other boys had something smart to say to Johnny after class. Most of the time it was about his accent or his worn-out shoes (the MacTavish family not having enough money to splurge on a new pair when his still wore well). Today though… today was different.

It was relentless in the locker room, most of the other Year 12 boys chiming in with something or another about his hair. 

Though he maintained his composure for the most part he couldn’t deny just how deep it cut. His Ma had been diagnosed with cancer 2 years ago, chemo hitting her hard- she had just recently relented and shaved the rest of her hair off. When Johnny said he wanted to do the same, she helped. She made a game out of it, trying to see how many different funny hairstyles she could give her boy- just to see him laugh and smile. Then she gave him the mohawk and they both stopped.

“So handsome… my sweet Johnny boy with a mohawk!” A light laugh left her lips, a sound Johnny would never let himself forget. 

“Think I’m gonna keep it, Ma…” And he had, learned how to take care of it, always made time to see his Ma- let her trim it up for him, made her smile bright every time he visited her in hospital. 

The water poured over him till it ran cold and even then he didn’t make a move to leave. Instead, he sat on the cold tile, knees to his chest as he ran his hands through his hair over and over again, anxiously tugging at the short strands.

The door to the locker room opened and closed, footsteps milling about accompanied by the sound of someone rummaging through their locker. 

Johnny couldn’t be bothered to move, too lost in his own thoughts.

“You’re gonna pull your hair out, mate,” The voice was soft, slightly deep, dripping in a thick Manchester accent.

“So? Everyone hates it anyways…” Johnny bit back another wave of tears, trying to hold himself together.

“I don’t hate it…” The voice is softer now, kind words prompting Johnny to look up, greeted by a stunning set of honey eyes. “I actually think it's pretty fucking dope…”

Simon kneeled before him, a hand outstretched towards the kneeling Scot, the other holding a towel. There was a black medical mask over his face, just like always. The year 13 student had been a bit of an enigma to Johnny. Most of the students called him Ghost, something about how quiet he could be, creeping up on everyone. Simon fit him better in Johnny’s mind– warm, honey eyes, soft blonde hair, the faintest hint of curl to the strands, always slightly tousled, the boy couldn’t possibly be a ghost– maybe an angel instead. 

“You dinnae have to lie-”

“I’m not lying to you…” Simon’s voice faded off, pushing his outstretched hand towards Johnny.

“You must want something then, eh?” Johnny kept himself small, trying to figure out what game– if any– Simon was playing. “Wanna take the piss like the rest of ‘em?”

An abrupt laugh left Simon’s lips. “Be like them? You wound me Scotsman. C’mon mate, get out of the shower, you’re gonna freeze your balls off.” This time Simon stepped over the tile lip, grabbing Johnny and helping him to his feet, gladly handing over the towel if it meant the poor kid would stop shivering. 

Johnny couldn’t shrug off the kindness anymore, caving to the soft hand and gentle eyes before him. After a few minutes, his limbs didn’t feel nearly as numb anymore and he managed to change into his clothes.

“So what’s the deal, with your hair?” Simon was sitting on the opposite end of the bench, fiddling with the straps of his backpack as he listened.

“It’s for my Ma… she’s got cancer… she thought it looked good on me so I’ve kept it… she helps me trim it up every few weeks… even when she’s in hospital…” tears threatened to spill again, desperately clinging to Johnny’s waterline. 

“Fuck mate…” Simon was by his side in a flash. “I’m so sorry man…”

“No need… it’s been this way for a while, dinnae know when she’ll get better…” Johnny’s voice tapered off, lost in thought again.

“I’m sure she’ll get better soon…” Simon paused for a moment, letting the silence hang in the air. “Listen… I’ve seen you around, you’re good at that shit you do in your sketchbook and even better out on the pitch… if those fucks bother you again come find me, yeah?”

“You don’t ha-”

“None of that, I’ll see you around Johnny…” In a flash Simon was gone, living up to his nickname and leaving Johnny reeling. 

The next day Johnny was sitting on one of the benches out front sketching, waiting for school to start when everyone started to speak in hushed tones. His eyes flicked up, pencil dropping on the page as he met Simon’s eyes. His blonde locks were almost completely gone, trimmed into a neat mohawk that closely mirrored Johnny’s save for the slight curl to the strands.

Simon caught his gaze, softly nodding his chin towards the Scot, eyes crinkling as if he was smiling beneath the mask. Simon, being a year 13 had sent a clear message to the rest of the school, leave Johnny alone. 

From then on, Simon was practically Johnny’s shadow. No one gave him shit about his hair or his accent or his shoes anymore. 

Simon watched over Johnny and Johnny brought some much-needed softness into Simon’s life, eventually coaxing the Brit into taking the mask off when they were alone. Broke Johnny’s heart when he saw the scar– Simon’s dad had thrown a bottle at him, leaving behind a deep gash on his cheek– the reason for the mask. 

The boys were inseparable. Over time the distance between them lessened, from opposite ends of the bench to being pressed together, Simon’s lips leaving a soft kiss on Johnny’s.

And Simon was there three weeks later, mohawk freshly trimmed, for Mrs. MacTavish’s funeral, holding Johnny’s hand tight and doing his best to stay strong for his boy. 

[dovabunny]

You right Ghoap angst like no other, and I am loving every minute of it 🤭🧎‍♀️😘😘

Crying over the emotional turmoil of characters that aren't even real>>>

If it makes people cry it means it's working. The tears of my readers moisturizes my skin and waters my crops.

My Ao3 is DovaBunny and the fic is here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52201897/chapters/132041107

I write on Twitter because I'm a masochist who likes to make things hard on myself and I like the challenge of writing there. To keep the pace, build the tension, and time the twists within the limits of each individual tweet and the limit of tweets in a thread is fun to me. From there I copy it over to here, and then edit it a bit for Ao3.

[lethendralis-paints]

I adore the outfit designs you make!! So I was wondering... if Fenris was the Inquisition commander... how would he look in a Fen-version of Cullen's DAi outfit?

Ok, since I’m working to develop a more quick and loose sketching style, getting through some of the incredibly inventive asks sitting in my inbox seems like a good idea! Limited myself to two layers and 30 minutes. How do you like Fenris as the Inquisition’s commander of army?

[cccrystalclear]

What did Louise do to make Fen so angry and glowy? Did she throw away his wine? Kiss Anders? Play Wicked Grace with slavers?

Oh you know the usual. Trying to touch his shoulder after he came to her mansion because he wanted to be with her and apologize but he was a bit too vulnerable at the moment so he shoved her against the wall in a spur of the moment. you know. the usual things

[nerime]

I FOUND YOU!! I've some of your Anders art saved on my phone for like years I got in Fb pages and pinterest before I joined Tumblr and now here you are!!! With so much more glorious Fenris and Anders art!! ❤❤

AHH HI!!! This is so nice!!!! I am glad you liked my art enough to save it, so flattering! Thank you for following, hope you will enjoy it here :,)

Also, kitty Anders wants to say hello to you

[storybookhawke]

For the nineteenth trick-or-treater, Bethany and Carver answered the door!

[silvipeppers]

❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤😩🙏🙏😘😘💕👌

thank you!! ;v;

[hanatsuki89]

I would die for Amelia Tabris

Amelia says that she’s flattered, hahaThank you! *heart emojis

[fandom-age]

text overlaid atop the dragon age logo that reads "@dovabunny is a great big ray of sunshine! ❤️😄 I've never met someone so willing to engage and encourage fellow fans. We're lucky to have her."

[thejourneymaninn]

What does the DA2 gang smell like? Individually and collectively?

Individually:

Anders: sewage, dragon dung, catnip andexhaustion

Fenris: leather and lyrium, with just a hint ofdecay

Aveline: swords and shields during the day,nice nights in the evening

Varric: the hanged man, ink, chest hair shampooand crossbow wax (that’s just his body, though, his nose reeks of your business)

Merrill: rat droppings, flowers, and everythingthat is good in this world

Isabela: booze and booty

Sebastian: Chantry N°5

Bethany: she bathes twice a day, she doesn’tsmell, she refuses too and you can’t make her

Hawke: despair. they shouldn't have eaten allthat ham

Carver: resentment

the Arishok: disgust (somewhat less so if youbring Fenris)

Collectively: trouble. and family. and chantry dust                                                                                             

[molotovinmyhand]

I'm going to write this.

Full creds to @dovabunny for the idea.

But i am absolutely going to write this.

Soap taking Ghost home for the 'highland games'

And that's how Ghost learn that the MacTavish clan has a near legendary legacy of winners that stretch centuries amongst men and women who look like gods. Needless to say he never called it a 'skirt' again.

When Soap came home with a ring on his finger, Grandma MacTavish makes Ghost compete in the games to show he is worthy of the MacTavish surname and her blessing.

[the-stray-liger]

I just straight up peed a little laughing so hard at the stuff you reblogged today. A+++ 🙏🙏🙏❤

KKSDFDJF I can’t take credit for any of it, but I’m glad you enjoy my blog!!!!!!

[arisell]

A3 for Zevran?? Pls

[cccrystalclear]

Was Louise nervous when she asked Fenris to marry her? Or was it more, we're basically married already might as well make it official- type of deal?

It was a mix of both! She knew he loved her and how he wouldn’t need marriage to be happy, but she felt it was a needed gesture. Cause even if he knew she loved him back she also wanted him to know she considered him family, and wanted to properly give him one. Louise is also never big on expressing her feelings and gets awkward easily, so she was most nervous about what she was going to say, rather than his answer. She also feels like the whole athmosphere of the room shifts when she gets serious and drops the flirt and humour. 

[hollyand-writes]

I wish you'd write a fic where... Anders and Garrett are the only two who dont know that they're dating. Literally everyone else knows.

I LOVE THIS PROMPT OH MY GOD THIS IS HILARIOUS 😂 Here, have a fill!

———

Didn’t Know They Were Dating

One thing was clear: Hawke was drunk. One thing that wasn’t clear, however, was why Hawke was so miserably and desperately asking everybody’s advice on how he could woo Anders.

The shocked silence around their table in the Hanged Man spoke volumes; but Garrett Hawke didn’t seem to notice it, so consumed was he with both his frustration and his seventh bottle of ale.

‘I’ve tried everything!’ Hawke sighed, throwing his hands unsteadily in the air while his companions exchanged increasingly uncomfortable glances. ‘We spend so much time together, we enjoy each other’s company, we’ve even fallen asleep in each other’s arms at the Estate – so why won’t Anders date me?’

‘I don’t get it,’ Merrill piped up. ‘I thought you and Anders were already dating? At least, that’s what everyone else told me. But if you say you’re not dating, then does that mean – we got it wrong?’

If anyone was going to blurt out what was going through everyone’s minds, of course it was going to be Merrill; but it did mean everyone else was now free to chime in.

‘Kitten,’ Isabela said, ‘we’re as baffled as you are.’

‘No shit,’ agreed Varric. ‘Would I lie to you, Daisy? If I didn’t think Hawke and Anders weren’t already dating –’

‘Hmph,’ snorted Fenris. ‘It seems we might have been misled.’

‘Can’t be,’ Aveline said. ‘I seem to recall Anders mentioning all the things Hawke talked about, and saying that he was the one who was unsure if it was just friendly or something more.’

They all stopped talking at the sight of Hawke’s face, which was somewhere between inebriated confusion and shock.

‘You mean –’ Hawke jabbed the air roughly in their direction, ‘you mean to say you all thought we were already dating?’

Isabela stared at him, incredulous. ‘Well – yes, actually, Hawke.’

‘And you mean to say Anders also wondered if we were dating?’ Hawke hiccuped, but his stare was surprisingly intent.

Varric squirmed in his chair. ‘Looks like it.’

‘You know,’ Sebastian said, his thick Starkhaven brogue patient, as if he were speaking to an idiot (and he probably was), ‘all these months of not realising you were dating could have been cleared up if you’d actually talked to each other in the first place.’

Hawke brightened then, then straightened up – or as much as he could straighten up while under the influence of so much alcohol. ‘Well, then,’ he slurred, somewhat more cheerfully now, ‘I suppose maybe it’s time I should go to Anders and tell him how I feel, and perhaps we can clear this up once and for all.’