For the ask meme thing: Obi-Wan and Kit Fisto "Are you flirting with me?"
“Are you flirting with me?” Obi-Wan asked, raising an eyebrow.
Kit blinked and then burst out laughing one of his classic belly laughs, bending over slightly to catch his breath. Obi-Wan spotted a few of the nearby Knights and Masters turning to look at them as they walked by.
A few moments passed, then Kit caught his breath, pulling himself upright and grinning at Obi-Wan.
“Not exactly,” he replied. “I’m just here as a distraction.”
Obi-Wan frowned. “A distraction? From what?” he asked, looking around briefly. There wasn’t anything particularly...distracting going on. Unless...
Kit’s grin widened, and then the Force screeched a warning. Before he could turn around and figure out exactly what was happening, a familiar voice shouted, “Surprise!”
The next thing he knew, something thick and smelly splashed itself onto his head, dripping down onto his clothes and covering him instantly.
Something...purple?
Obi-Wan blinked, and he instantly regretted it as the substance slipped into his eyes. Luckily, it didn’t sting, but it did make it very difficult to see. He brought his hands up to his eyes to scrub it away.
When his vision cleared, he saw Anakin standing in front of him, can of paint in hand.
“Anakin,” he sighed, and some paint got into his mouth. He immediately spat it out and rubbed his mouth clean, realizing that a significant amount of paint had gotten stuck in his hair and his beard.
“That’s what you get for dumping sand on me last week!” Anakin exclaimed, grinning. “Thanks for the help, Master Fisto!” He high-fived the Nautolan Master and then they walked away, leaving Obi-Wan dripping purple paint onto the pristine white floors.
Obi-Wan sighed, looking down at his purple-stained robes. He didn’t know if the paint would wash off easily, but it didn’t really matter—not really.
Anakin had no idea what would be coming for him next. This was only the beginning, after all.
“why the hell is there glitter everywhere?” and how could I choose anything but Dragon Age? lol
TITLE: Sparkle JuicePAIRING: Hawke x Varric (platonic)RATING: E for EA sucks–I mean, everyoneWORD COUNT: 1,050WARNING: n/a
NOTES: takes place after act 2, but don’t ask me when. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Send me a prompt + a fandom/character!
As the glitter exploded like a thunderous rainstorm around her, the thought occurred to Hawke that maybe, just maybe, she had been duped. Again. In her defense, if she couldn’t trust shady back-alley merchants, then who could one trust in Kirkwall?
The sheer amount of the stuff that permeated every available surface was impressive. Or would’ve been, if it wasn’t getting in Hawke’s eyes. She shook her head back and forth. Some splattered from her head to the floor in response.
Hawke had half a mind to take her complaint straight to the vendor. Cheap manufacturing at its finest. As if it were her fault somehow that it was so distracting thinking about how sexy she’d look that she dropped the glass bottle. But she had bigger fish to fry first. Namely, cleaning up this mess before she was caught by–
“Why the hell is there glitter everywhere?”
Ah, shit.
“Funny. I get that from Madam Lusine all the time,” she teased, not having to turn around to identify who entered. She’d recognize those rich vocal undertones anywhere. Even when half-asleep, even when half-dead; both of which she had first-hand proof of. The Deep Roads had not been much fun for anyone, save for perhaps Sandal.
Hawke turned to face her best friend. She shed more glitter as she went, like snow toppling down the side of Sundermount. Varric had his arms crossed across his chest in a chastising manner, but his quirked eyebrow and slight smirk gave him away.
“It’s like I told you before, Hawke. Leave it to the professionals at The Blooming Rose.” Varric shook his head at her and his smirk softened into downright fond. “When amateurs try their hand at the craft, well. Glitter bombs go off apparently. In my room, most curiously.”
Ah, yeah. Hawke had decided to test out the product here at The Hanged Man to avoid any familial nagging at home. Which benefited her personally, but him not so much. She’d have to do some serious damage control.
Hawke shrugged, trying desperately to ignore the shimmering dust falling off her shoulders, and tried to appear casual. “Yes, that is rather peculiar, isn’t it? And almost certainly no one’s fault, least of all anyone in this room.”
Varric mumbled a response (”Uh-huh.”) and entered the room fully, heading straight towards the epicenter of the disaster.
She continued, stalling for time. “I suppose that just goes to show you how shoddy the security in this tavern is. Just think if that had been a lyrium grenade. Or gaatlok!” A shudder thrown in for dramatic effect and then, “You really ought to move in with me, Varric. For your safety. Leave this unsolvable mystery for the templars to shove under the rug.”
As if he hadn’t heard a word of what she said, Varric squatted to pick up the largest intact piece of the bottle. “So you mean to tell me you have no idea about this–” He held it up to the light where the label was clear enough to read. “–Sparkle Juice…? Really, Hawke?”
“Hey, Jorman said it’d awaken my inner Andraste–” but Hawke couldn’t even finish her sentence before dissolving into a fit of giggles. Varric followed suit almost instantly. In-between laughs, he choked out a, “Ye–yeah, maybe the–the being set on fire bit–” and that just got them going all over again.
When the laughter subsided, Hawke had somehow fallen to the ground and found herself right in the middle of Mount Glitter. Varric had also accepted his fate and was fully seated on the ground. His leather duster was already covered. The battle was over before it had even begun.
“I’ll clean it up, of course.”
“You mean you’ll trick Gamlen into cleaning it up for you.”
“Eh, tomato, potato,” she said with a wave of her hand.
“That’s not–” Varric started, then sighed. “Just tell me you didn’t waste any good coin on this hogwash.”
Silence.
“Hawke–”
“Oh, c’mon, Varric. That’s not fair. You know I can’t be held responsible for my financial decisions when my trusty dwarf isn’t by my side to give counsel.”
Hawke scooted herself over to the empty spot on the wall next to Varric, leaning over to place her cheek on his shoulder. His scent was always comforting to her. Strong, but not overbearing. Inviting, but not sweet.
He sighed again. Then he adjusted so his jaw was resting on the top of her head.
“Did you mean it?”
She scrunched her eyebrows in confusion. “Which part? I say a lot of things I don’t mean, you know.”
“True enough. If you were as honest as you are beautiful, the Grand Cleric would’ve banned you from the Chantry by now, Champion or not.” He chuckled, the sound a low rumble through his chest. “I meant about me moving in to your home. Not that I would, mind you. I’m a tad fearful of those papers Anders always leaves at your place springing to life in the middle of the night. We’ve done a lot of crazy shit together, but fighting a paper monster dead set on justice? I’ve gotta draw the line somewhere, don’t I?”
As Varric rambled, Hawke lifted her head so she could look him square in the eye. Even if they hadn’t been the very best of friends for quite some time now, she’d recognize what he was doing here. Babbling on and cracking jokes to cover up any whiff of real emotions; it was her go-to move. Right alongside flirting and stabbing.
“You idiot.” This made him stop in his tracks. His eyes merely blinked as she continued, “Of course you’re always welcome in my home. What’s mine is yours. No question.”
(Not that she had much of anything to give, but that was beside the point. Because Varric still broke-out in a wide grin like that was enough, like she was enough. Kirkwall was rotten, but what they had was not.)
“Dammit, Hawke. This is no time to get sentimental.” He patted the top of her head, causing even more glitter to fall right into her eyelashes. “You’ve got a brand new look to show off downstairs.”
“No,” she said before taking his hand into hers. “We have our brand new looks to show off downstairs.”
Do you think Jon and/or Tormund would keep in touch with people South of the Wall after heading into the true North?
Hm.. I can’t imagine Jon not keeping in touch with Sansa. I think he would come south every so often to meet with her and maybe gather some resources?
As for Tormund, I think he would accompany him, because the trip can’t be easy on one’s own.
As for Castle Black and Jon having to stay there, in the fic I actually started writing (lmao 3 months ago) Tormund all but threatens the almost non existent The Night’s Watch that if they want to keep Jon, they have to fight him and The Free Folk for it.
Omg, this is exciting. TYRATHAN BETTER FREAKING HAVE A PART IN THIS OMFG Also I'm kinda eh about loa!Vol'jin but if that's the only option we get to keep him around (like, resurrection isn't actually on the table), then I'll take it.
Tyrathan better be there to help ressurect his boyfriend!!!
My greatest problem, and fear, with this setup is the following though:
They’ve recovered a character that has A. no relation to the current events (Zalazane, unless we get new information, has no relation to G’huun, the blood trolls, or even the Horde vs Alliance conflict) B. How does he get free? Does he just escape Bwonsamdi, does he murder him, does he absorb his powers??? Remember that we’ve been waiting YEARS to know more about the Loa, and we’ve already killed 4. In the eyes of Blizzard, killing one to instantly substitute him is totes ok, because who cares about the trolls and their culture, really And C. If Vol’jin turns into a Loa, which is efectively a God, his actions get limited, especially if he becomes Bwonsamdi’s “succesor”. But basically, he cannot be a leader of the Horde anymore.
Of these points, the one that really matter is A, because this could just become a sidequest with little to no relation to the “important events”, where we go, do some stuff, learn of a characters fate, and then completely forget about him. Which could happen if we Go to stop Zalazane, help Vol’jin come back so he can defeat Zal, the leftovers of Bwonsamdi proclaim him his succesor, Vol’jin says “I’ll do my best” and that’s the last time we see him. Maybe he comes in later to show support, but that’s it.
And that’s the equivalent of Blizzard going “here, this is what really happens to this character, is it better that his other end? Isn’t it cool? are you happy now? Can we go back to ignoring him?”
And I hate that.
I hope that I’m just being a pessimist crankypants and completely wrong, but this is blizzard, and I’ve known him for some years now...
But yea, that’s why I’m so relucant to the “Vol’jin Loa”, that they do this just so they get us off of their backs instead of doing it for love and understanding of the character.
It would be much more interesting if instead of just becoming a Loa, he got the powers/blessing of one temporarily, which is what actually brings him back to this world. It would be a power up, but not as hard as becoming a God, so this new chance he has becomes half a trial because he has to learn how to handle this new powers (before he was a powerfull Shadowhunter and served many Loa, but now he is like a direct conduit of the power of a specific Loa, just to put an example), but still can be the Chieftain of the Darkspears, an important member of the Leadership of the Horde, and... he could still participate in the Brewfest...
14. “Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.” halsinestro ;)
“You know what fascinates me the most about you Jordan?” Sinestro asks, smirking slightly.
“What? My nice ass?” Hal snarks.
“How skillfully you lie.”
“I don’t...!” Hal bites back his denial, glaring as Sinestro chuckles darkly at him.
“Don’t bother denying, we both know the truth of that at least. You lie better than I do some days,” Sinestro’s smirk deepens and then vanishes into a sneer. “After all, what was it you told me all those years ago?”
“You betrayed me first,” Hal snarls, brown eyes narrowing into a glare as he practically chokes on different words. Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always. “You abandoned me first! Betrayed everything the Corps stood for, that I stood for!”
“I wonder. How many time did you have to repeat that little lie to yourself to make it feel like the truth?”
“I’m not lying!”
“You’re always lying Jordan, Hal. And one day, you’ll choke on all your lies.”
If Jon and Tormund couldn't go back North (idk say it's unlivable after an actually worthwhile Long Night and not the silliness the show gave us), in a perfect scenario what would you have them do?
Hmm i think they would stay in The Gift along with the remaining Free Folk. Given it’s winter, it should be cold enough for Tormund’s liking. But for some reason the Idea of them settling in the bogs of a neck is also interesting? But it’d be too warm I guess
I'm not reading comics right now, but the little bits and pieces I see from your posts about stuff like Empyre have created this weird cracky amalgamation in my head and it's giving me life.
the xmen are straight up bonkers awful right now and it disappoints me. but empyre (the main title) is so good. icb i actually like a marvel comics event let alone a comic book in 2020.
