35 posts tagged kyeshgall
I. for vendettalee
What’s criminally unfair is that even his worst decisions were somehow easier than this, justifiable or whatever. But indulging himself, for only himself, has never been Derek’s strong suit. After fifteen minutes spent staring through the windshield, with an anguish reserved for Catholics and beauty queens, he shuts off the engine and goes inside the Dunkin Donuts.
II. for kyeshgall
The wind took the clew out over the deck, mainsheet whipping free of its block in the snarling gust, and with it went Hawke’s body. Isabela didn’t even hear her shout above the pounding growl of rain and waves. One moment there were six of them wrestling like sodden kittens for the tack, and then only five.
III. for cheesiestart
He watched for the glint of a spyglass across the bay in the waning light. Beside the open window, on the wall itself, Anders had doodled moons of every phase, some the very shape of their hidden bridge. She’d cross tonight, sure, but he doubted the tide would ever be in their favor.
IV. for ltleflrt
There’s a tattoo, mostly filled with freckles and poor judgment rendered in fading black, but it’s there. On her ox-muscled ass, no less! Before Isabela can voice a single vowel or consonant, Aveline crushes a handful of smallclothes into her open mouth with a warning look.
V. for afragmentcastadrift
Miranda shifts the baby to her hip, not ready to hand her back just yet, and watches her tiny blue fingers follow the path of raindrops on the window.
“On Benning we managed to rescue a handful of civilians from Cerberus,” says Liara, “and before we left it started to rain. Acid rain, actually.”
“It wouldn’t be a mission with Shepard if even the weather wasn’t out to get you,” Miranda replies, nudging her hand beneath the baby’s to feel the chill of the glass.
VI. for iambickilometer
When they landed in Estwatch for repairs and provisions, Isabela bounded off the dock and into the backstreets to stretch her legs. She found the string, a pink and dirty lifeline clinging along the alleyway bricks, and followed where it threaded through bushes and market carts, all the way up the tumbled fortress to a broken parapet overlooking the port.
“Still lost, kitten?” she murmured to the clouds, and wound the yarn into a sloppy ball.
For kyeshgall, mostly.
A little Kirkwall AU - swapping out Varric for Bianca (Until We Sleep version). And thus allowing for distractions from a different sort of paragon state.
YOU MAY CLAIM ME FOR THIS!!
i feel that way about fic i’ve written. i just want to write disclaimers all over everything.
oh lord though i did EVERYTHING wrong in this post…i made fun of anders, i acted like terrible fangirl, i even reposted an image! TRAIN WRECK. oh man. :o(
It’s nearly midnight when he watches them pass the light, palm to palm, like members of a secret cult. Strictly speaking it wasn’t far from the truth, though he’d have written them with hoods at the very least. And not those hideous hats.
Daisy takes it from Blondie, this shifting orb of blue and gold for some simple, human tradition, and for a moment Varric sees the light tracery of scars skimming her palm and wrist. It doesn’t mean much beside her smile, though, and she lifts the ball of magic out to Hawke.
“Another year,” Hawke says, making the light flare higher than their raised glasses. And as far as toasts go, Varric thinks, it hits all right notes. Simple because it has to be in this company, but shiny enough to illuminate the few empty chairs at the table. Even so, nobody cries.
It’s not his holiday, none of them were, but this is the first year he drinks like he means it. To health and to wealth, all that shit. Ancestors be buggered if it came out better the way Andrastians told it. The way they hoped was so different from his own reserved brand, and maybe he’d learn that technique in the next year, too. All that cheer and rosy-cheeked warmth sold like hotcakes.
There are circles under her eyes, dog hair across her lap, and she gulps her pint greedily, licking her own smile until all the foam is gone. Hawke brings the ball of light down to Varric, and what he’d like to say is that doesn’t tell her often enough that she makes him laugh. That she fills a room even when she’s gone.
“Happy First Day,” he says, instead, and closes his broad hand over hers, pulling in that light and putting it out. She kisses him first, ruining the blocking he’s planned, and he’s already forgiven her before her tongue parts his lips.
I see you! AWESOME!
I SEEEE YOOOOOU
Looking good! Damn, the guy’s exit from the building was IMPRESSIVELY timed.
why did they not have you speaking? what’s up with that? two women get selected out of 19 people and only of them gets a brief comment? wouldn’t be my editorial choice for a first episode.
Congratulations! That is awesome ;w;
as far as me not appearing much, i’m guessing that my clips weren’t that interesting?
i didn’t shit-talk or tell my opponents i was going to make a well of their bones.
there’s a split second of me looking shocked on the couch with two other dudes.
and that was the moment i beat them at Castle Crashers.
i know! i kept trying and thought it was my phone. and then was sad… are you gonna be on tv? or internet tv? either way, that’s AMAZING!!! go you!
internet TV. thanks babe!
blip isn’t working on tumblr for some reason and roosterteeth doesn’t have the audition episode up on youtube yet.
a collection of crossovers, threesomes, aus, and dragon effect. or mass age. elves, dwarves, apostates, biotics and marines. champions and commanders. oh and there’s danny/jackson from teen wolf a bunch in there as well.
camilladilla – Shepard/James Vega - interrupted by zombies.
After James saw how Shepard could shoot, and after Shepard started turning around whenever James pulled that one nickname on him, James woke before dawn to find Shepard carving LOCO into the side of his shotgun, dirt under his fingernails, hands hard and quick and, okay, merciless too—but then, they had to be.
‘Man’s gotta have a signature,’ Shepard said, James licking his dry lips.
James thought about what his was gonna be as the walkers breached the barricade: six am, as good a time for shooting as any.
kyeshgall – varric/isabela/bianca. cleaning bianca, varric needs slender fingers to help reach a tight spot. isabela is more than willing to innuendo.
‘Always wanted to see what made the old girl tick,’ Isabela said, running her fingers over the raised lath, a private little nub that warmed under her touch. ‘You’ll show me where the sweet spot is—won’t you, Varric?’
Varric’s swallow sounded like the catch as it was oiled, Isabela humming to see such a pretty thing glisten: ‘Something tells me you know more about that sweet spot than I ever will, Rivaini.’
frikadeller – Anders & Garrett, growing old together, modern AU.
He stayed in bed until the sun went down after he saw his first gray hair: growing from the temple, maybe the product of a few too many headaches, maybe ones that loving Anders had given him; or long nights partying past daylight with Isabela; or always saying yes to Varric’s latest roadtrip; or remembering the family he’d lost, the family he’d never see again, a father and a sister and a mother, with only a difficult brother, too large to ignore, and an awful sort of uncle left.
‘I’ve brought a magic potion that’s going to fix everything,’ Anders told him, shucking off the pair of house slippers he’d borrowed to take him as far as the drugstore on the corner, holding the plastic bag the way Meowleesi the Second always carried their socks around the house: proud hunters with mixed up wiring in their brains thinking the prey they’d found was their Moby Dick, only of course, it wasn’t; it wasn’t at all.
‘Is it alcohol?’ Garrett asked, but it was actually a box of Just For Men—and Garrett groaned, without saying it was because he’d always looked so much like the photograph of another man he kept in the bathroom cabinet, that now it was adding gray hair to the injury of that legacy.
so…there’s a lot more to shimmy than you think. especially when it comes to less. when she’s tapping out things designed for brevity, short breaths that still manage to carry whole lungfuls of air.
working with restrictions and paring things down not just because it’s required by the meme…but required by those characters…those voices.
it will be great. we’ll save thedas from dragons and templars and i’m a rogue assassin. if you want you can sleep in my tent or my room at the Hanged Man and Izzy and Varric are welcome to join in the pillow fights. naturally.