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we're not kids anymore.
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@starlyhtarch
archived!  locate me here!  Â

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archived!  locate me here!  Â
standbetween¡:
@starlyht
sent a raven ⌠â i firmly believe you and i can withstand any kind of hardship, as long as we are together. â from mal!
BY ALL RIGHTS, THOM OUGHT TO BE HAPPY. the mission was a success: corypheus suffered a blow that rattled followers into the wind, samson was captured, and none of the party were loss. the inquisition needed this victory. try as he might, he canât dreg a mote of joy out of the icy dread in his gut. mal questioning him on the fourth day out from the arbor wilds helps his mood as much as a nug needs wings.Â
when thom refuses to answer, withdrawn into pensive silence, the mage helps himself to crawling into bed, straddling his hips, and forcing him to pay attention. â i firmly believe you and i can withstand any kind of hardship, â a gently tug on thomâs beard draws his eye, at last, encouraging mal to resume saying. â as long as we are together. â
the battle with samson and his templars was fiercer than anyone anticipated. harder still for you, reflects thom. he regards a long cut an arrowhead dashed across malâs cheek. everybody else assumed it was exhaustion behind the mageâs increasingly drawn eyes and nervous hands. i knew and i didnât say a maker - damned thing because you asked me not to. look at what happened. the sound an arrow forged out of red lyrium loosed from mal as it bit into his lower back visits him nightly. he became complaisant in the three years this war has raged. it was easy to start believing that mal could, indeed, survive anything.
â ⌠itâs been a while since iâve given you anything, hasnât it? â thom traps malâs hand between his so he can remove the griffon ring from his finger. â you really have turned me into a sentimental old fool. sit back a bit. â
his eyes stay low, fixed on the other hand that is now within reach. he neednât look up to know mal is staring a hole through him. â you told me once how you lot hold ⌠âgiftsâ differently from us. i donât know when this fight will end or whether either of us will see it for ourselves. i do know iâll never forgive myself if i let that stop me from living today. â
thom tucks the ring into the palm of malâs left hand and folds his fingers around it. â you already have my heart. what left is there to give other than the rest of me? â
weariness edged the dragonâs words,  as did sincerity.  i firmly believe you and i can withstand any kind of hardship as long as we are together.  the last several days were not as kind to either of them, certainly not so much as he had hoped, but together they remained. he swore hoped it meant something. Â
he too had believed more than any that he could survive anything.  arrowâs scrapes and swordâs bites were nothing to a being who trawled centuries. except now he was touched by new aches, new scars. the scrape of an arrow along his cheek far from sated his vanity. red lyrium had cut so unforgiving into his back.  and yet he did nor said nothing about it, sulking instead over corypheus and his beastsâ defeat.Â
mal ran a thumb over his loverâs hand,  more than staring a hole through him.  he willed a response, he hoped for a response, and yet could find himself unable to conjure even one.  the dragon stared a lifetime through him, or several lifetimes. the dragon stared as many lifetimes as he wished to have with his lover, brown eyes pensive and searching.
he understood the look thom offered him perhaps because he could not deny how often he knew that same look from himself;  something raw, something real. as though he were always seeing the other for the first time, anew. he stared a hole through his lover indee, far too sentimental not to understand nor to pretend not to understand. he clasped the ring gently, folding his fingers gently over the other man's. he pressed a kiss to thom's mouth.  âyou know you've had everything i could give, all of it, for a while, don't you?"
not idly do dragons offer their secrets.
suppose i can add â offended a cis person for making some dumb âonly trans characters are validâ post to the point they made some absurd passive aggressive vague post about me with an apology for being cisâ to my trans rper bingo card .
loki was so awful i think i just watched a serialized hostage video , please help those actors

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just a đ and their đśđ¤
Fallen Dragon by Bayard Wu
can't wait until i have a wife so i can say "i love my wife" and introduce her to people by saying "i'd like you to meet my wife" and get out of boring social engagements by saying "i have to go home to my wife" and talk about her to anyone who will listen to me because she's my wife and i adore her
âIn a world where vows are worthless, where making a pledge means nothing, where promises are made to be broken, it would be nice to see words come back into power.â
â Chuck Palahniuk, Lullaby
tumblr accidentally making me unfollow @standbetween is homophobic

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no one:  *nothing at all* nobody:  *not a thing* not a soul:  *not a single (1) peep* mal:  my husband was an idiot again,  wasnât he  .   :)
Validation time! Put in the tags what made you follow the person you RB this from đŤ
standbetween¡:
THATâS A WAY TO PUT IT. he was the one that introduced him to life as a mercenary. thom had been eight - and - ten, two years younger than the fast - talking ferelden, and aimless with the grand tourney fading on the horizon. vance painted a splendid picture of gold to fatten his purse and challenges to test his strength. their roads diverged when orlaisâ gilded hooks took purchase. the empire declaring its price for the head of now national traitor, former captain thom rainier, decades from then catalyzed a reunion saturated in blood. thomâs eyes wander from vance to mal.
somewhat absently, he says, â i did have a life before the inquisition, love, â before frowning. the griffon ring had attracted vanceâs eye; out of the corner of his, thom scrutinizes him. time hasnât erased a couple of old tells. â ⌠is there something on your mind, dryden? youâre staring. â
heedful, the sellsword looks at rainier. â i was admiring his ring; quality craftsmanship, that. you two are, uh, youâre this in it ⌠â ? â
â youâre observant as ever. â
â easy, big man. i didnât think you were the settling sortâs all, â vanceâs hands flicker up from his hips, placating. he cuts his eyes toward mal as though seeing him anew. the watery incandescence at the center of the band around his finger is due to lyrium, no question. rainier chose a mage. the world is burning up. he addresses the couple as one, even though itâs thomâs shoulder that his hand clasps. â congratulations. we should have drinks later to celebrate. everything goes well with your ambassador, iâll be around for a while. â
half a dozen thoughts clatter and clank through his skull. josephine? what does âa whileâ supposed to mean? the recognition dawning in thomâs blue eyes shakes a laugh from vance. a goodly number of the inquisition forces were lost in the arbor wilds. they canât afford to nitpick so close now to the end⌠. we are paid well, too, muses thom. the vance dryden of his memory wasnât a man of scruples. moxie will pocket someone his friendship; loyalty is bought with a different currency
thom moves his hand with a loverâs ease across the small of malâs back. â what do you want to do? â
everywhere red lyrium broke skin was burnt into memory. worried as he is, and has been since the temple of mythal, he respects malâs wish to forgo healers and tend to his injuries himself. for an instant again, it is the two of them alone in the skyhold garden, vance and the meandering chantry sister falling to the wayside. he flattens his hand as an unscathed space is found.
the dragon blinked,  noting the too keen and too knowing stare the stranger tried to conceal. he folded his arms across his chest even as though affronted, even as he registered the otherâs expression of surprise with some pleasure.  i think iâm as shocked as you are, for other reasons.  perhaps he couldnât so intimately know what thom had gotten up to during his younger years, but he doubted most men would so gracefully embrace that they had been making out with a dragon. he was astoundingly tender for a man who wasnât the type to settle.
of course he knew that thom had a life before the inquisition,  just as he did. both of them, far different creatures from what they now offered thedas. he shouldnât have been as surprised as he was, though, that the acquaintances would begin to trickle in after val royeaux. he shouldnât have been as surprised that thom had acquaintances living. Â
the touch placated him.   he decided he could forego his judgments and reign in his sarcasm  --   for now,  at least.  mal held his tongue and slid an arm around thomâs waist in return.  âi mean ---â  he half-turned away,  showing the part of his face unscathed by an arrowâs touch. a mischievous glint entered his eye as the corner of his mouth curled upwards.  âsâppose i never object to a bit of alcohol.â  half-addressing the other, he added,  âdepending on how much of skyholdâs swill your friend can keep down.â
me:Â signposts literally everywhere im trans because i donât want some hallmark card outing myself moment
me when my sister figures it out:
standbetween¡:
â IâM OLDER THAN YOU. OF COURSE I KNOW WHAT IâM TALKING ABOUT, â thom poked at his little sisterâs shoulder with all of the unflinching authority a lad of eight years can muster. â itâs called â â
the crackling hearth prevented her giggles from rousing mother and father. if she was heard, it would have been alright, too. for a few wonderful seconds, his liddy was back with him. fatherâs disappointment lost the edge he once feared the day she fell ill. thomâs hand now, decades from that night in markham, slowly closes as though his fingers are combing through the constellations themselves. â four, â he says. â i was eight. â
he rests his fist below the weave of their hands on his chest  a yawn that dampens his eyes quiets into a mumbled. â thereâs few things left anymore in this life for me to claim with complete confidence. liddy ⌠she wouldâve liked you. â
what sheâd think of me, however, thom doesnât voice. i would rather not dwell on. maker knows iâm a long ways from the hero iâd crow to her about becoming one day. he lost himself somewhere along the line.
ârelated to you, she would have impeccable taste,â  the dragon jested softly, though with a somber note touching his words. it was not a pain unfamiliar to him, the loss of a sibling, while neither of them had been anywhere near so young. it was a loss he would have wished to shield from his lover if he could. heâd had more than a mere inkling of how much thomâs sister had meant to him, but to carry so much grief for so much time, since such a tender age?
but,  his jesting aside, mal shook his head.  âi canât imagine how difficult that must have been for you. no matter how long --- â  little else for them to do but learn to breathe with the suffocating weight on them, with the dashed hopes of what could and should have been.  he murmured,  âa loss like that never really heals, does it?â  at least it had the grace to leave even the most hideous scarring unseen.

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valorcorrupt¡:
@starlyht liked for a little starter
   âEveryone says that thing looks like an Archdemon,â Inara frowns like this is a normal, light topic of conversation, hands on her hips and disapproval heavy on her brow. âThese fucking Orlesians have never even seen an Archdemon.âÂ
A Darkspawn incursion, the frilly fucks call the Fifth Blight. Morons.Â
   âIt doesnât look like an Archdemon, for the record.â She would know. The scars on her arm from the Archdemonâs teeth seem to itch when she thinks about it. Just makes it all more annoying. âThe Archdemon wasâŚâ Powerful. In charge. Bold. âNot a pet.â
alas,  this was not the dragonâs mageâs ideal turn of conversation, as much as the newly minted skyhold buzzed over the destruction.Â
âdonât even think i can count on a hand what an orlesian noble knows,â  he muttered, taking a drink from his glass and grimacing. the wine here had what he swore to be the flavor and consistency of piss. it wasnât exactly assisting his mood, and only by some grace had he managed to bite his tongue because he knew far, far better. and now he could do little more than silently sulk that dragons werenât pets, either, or that the entire spectacle had been an aberration. Â
âhere.â  he stood, taking his glass. he thought it a mercy that the troubadour had ceased her horrific warbling.  âwhy donât you sit? i've been here long enough and you look exhausted.â
Aramis in The Musketeers 2.05 âThe Returnâ