#verse:

[boombambaby]

" Okay, wait a minute-- I know I'm a day late, the post just showed up for me but did I just see Katara say they FLOAT BABIES TO FIGURE OUT WHAT TRIBE THEY'RE IN???

What, so if the baby floats to the LEFT and SURVIVES it goes to the Northern Tribe?!

-- WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE. "

[charmed-redemption]

UW: Season of The Witch

[daughterofhighever-blog]

Ask Prompt - felthubris

{ Continued from ask prompt here: X }

@felthubris​

  Solas closes his eyes as he is touched, as he is always wont to do when someone reaches for him. The sensation of fingers upon a raised slash in his forearm is alien, and brings to mind the ghost of the sword he’d taken when he received it earlier this year– the whistle of metal in air, the wet sound of flesh giving beneath steel. Blood: a feral, primal perfume.

. “A defensive wound I received during a skirmish in West Orlais,” He explains in his even, quiet voice. As if to mirror the event, he lifts his forearm to mime protecting his face from harm. “I encountered a curious group of bandits who preferred to battle astride thin, dehydrated horses.”

  Elissa hummed thoughtfully, pulling her fingers back from the young scar, still red, raised, and taught. Sliding them down to his wrist, she turned his arm slightly to inspect the full length of it.

“I suppose you were fortunate enough to encounter bandits, then, rather than Templars. They’d likely have left you with more than just this.”

Pausing for a moment, the Warden lifted her eyes to look at him inquisitively. Her fingers began to knead and massage the skin and flesh of his forearm, taking care with how deeply she pressed on the scar itself.

“It pains you,” she said, more statement than question, but still with some measure of both. Having more than a few scars of her own, she was familiar with how they pulled, itched, and ached when healing this way and knew the cold never helped matters. Weather in the mountains was rarely kind, but the brutal winter winds of late chilled and soaked through even Skyhold’s thick stone. Solas wasn’t the sort to breathe a word about his discomfort, but to the right set of eyes, he didn’t have to.

[nasakc]

❛  if  you  knew  me  before  i  was  fifteen,  no  you  didn’t.  ❜ 

[naberrian-blog]

“So, tell me something. What is it like--being a Jedi, I mean.  They’re so mysterious, so calm.  Is it as meditative as it seems?”

[damcned]

                             he had made a NAME for his self.  the slayer of hunters. for centuries, he had been the GREATEST plague for the mortality of the hunters, peeking through their vile and creepiest desires and USING them against them in order to win them over and eventually kill them. but that was more like a vengeance path of blood and heart. after hunters had killed the only individual that he could call family and leaving him ALONE , it was something that he would never forgive and thus why, he started his vengeance right from the start. and for centuries, he had done the same thing all over again, almost the supernatural creatures thought that he was like a HERO. which was FAR from the actual truth of why he did what he did. and for that, being the best was recruited by marcel gerard and for months now, he had been the bounty hunter, finding any hunters that came here to wreck havoic and destroying them but his action didn’t stop ONLY to hunters.                                    getting out from the shower after a long night of preserving the streets and killing one or two rebels, the vampicubus sped at his chambers and pulling into pants that worn loosingly against his waist and a white t-shirt before closing the wardrobe door and headed to the main balcony of marcel’s lair. his eyes countered throughout the figure of a male standing there with a searching look over his features. and definitely a VAMPIRE. 

                              ‘ if you’re looking for marcel, dear, he’s not here in the moment. big guy had to do some digging and subdue his protege. but i can help you if that can wait. ‘

@beautiifulmonstrosities

[crimsonxwisp-blog]

@xusedtoberussianx

In a foreign hotel in the middle of who-knew-where, Wanda stood by the window with her arms folded, watching the rain pour down, beating against the glass like tiny bullets. Nikolai had taken her some place far away from the place she once called home, far away from anyone that might be looking for her. Steve had gone to Wakanda to do business involving Bucky, what it was she didn’t know. All she knew was she had been entrusted to Nikolai for safe keeping, laying low until Steve contacted them again. All Wanda knew was that Nikolai had been fighting on the opposite side, with Tony. Though it was no use fighting anymore, she couldn’t help but feel a little bit bitter towards him, hurt even.  With a dejected sigh, she trudged slowly to the bed, sitting on the edge of it, her eyes falling to the dark carpet.