#fun malaphor

[the-ellia-west]

Fun Malaphor of the Day

Biting up the wrong Bullet

#funny stuff #funny #funnyshit #shit #random shit #shitpost #fun malaphor #malaphor #malaphors

[theyuniversity]

#English #grammar #humor #malaphor #trivia #fun fact

[coquelicoq]

does anybody else say "hay is for horses, cows, and sheep. too bad you're a jackass" when someone yells "hey!" at them or is that another thing my dad made up

#my dad says so many things where i'm just like oh that's normal and then i grow up and lo and behold NO ONE SAYS THAT! #but also sometimes i assume he made it up and he didn't!! #i assumed he made up hitch in my giddy-up and he did not (though i still hold that he uses it nonstandardly (to mean wedgie)) #i wasn't sure about 'can be. sure would!' but that seems to be a him original #he also loooooves malaphors. he likes to pair them: e.g. wake up and smell the roses/stop and smell the coffee #which is cute BUT. he thinks he made them up! like each of them individually but also the concept of malaphors (mixed idioms) 🙄 #though he doesn't call them that. he calls them [his name]isms (because he thinks he made them up) #one time i was trying to figure out if a term my family uses is unique to us or not and i looked it up and got a hit on urban dictionary #so i opened it and IMMEDIATELY COULD TELL THAT HE WROTE THE ENTRY. HE PUT OUR FAMILY WORD IN URBAN DICTIONARY. #katymacky if you're reading this i am REELING over the knowledge that your dad also says jean-claude pennay!!! #WHERE ARE THEY GETTING THAT FROM??? DO THEY SUBSCRIBE TO THE SAME 'DORKY DADS OF THE PNW' MAGAZINE?????? #idioms #or something idek #swears #i guess??? #really struggling with how to index this lol #fun with words #my posts #oh also i almost didn't use the oxford comma for once in my life because the cadence of this has a pause after 'horses' #and then 'cows and sheep' are kind of run together #hay is for HORSES‚ COWS and SHEEP. too bad you're a JACKASS #i actually think in this case this maybe came from my stepmother? because i don't remember him saying it until after he met her #but maybe that's just because she says HEY! a lot more than other people i would have seen him around?

[hellenhighwater]

you have a delightful way with words!

Thanks! I'm what happens when two people who spin words for a living spawn, and then that larva spends the majority of her developmental years unattended in a library instead of properly socializing! It might make for fun reading but this is how I actually talk pretty much always, and I have nothing but pity for the unfortunate innocents who get stuck in conversation with me. My average sentence starts with too many syllables and then gets sidetracked into a deranged cacophony of mangled similes and malaphor.

And if it's a nightmare to spit out a digestible sentence when I'm sober, it is far worse when I'm drunk. You can tell I've had a few too many because I start talking like I'm really reaching for that scrabble high score.

The problem is that some corner of my brain decided that It Is Forbidden To Use An Important Word Twice In The Same Paragraph and now I just wind up using increasingly contrived synonyms because my mind will try to backspace out if I don't. I cannot stop myself, I can only hoard increasingly esoteric vocabulary until nothing I say makes any sense at all.

I hope you are having fun. Thank you for the compliment.

#i am endlessly trying to not sound like a pretentious dick but I also dont actually have a great baseline for how to not talk like this #because a significant majority of my family also talks...well not like this but certainly weirdly #can i do the alphabet backwords? no probably not but drunk me can spell words youve never heard of babey #i have gotten shit for this repeatedly from fellow shitfaced people

[starlightkun]

dr_magic2303 ❧ teaser [renjun]

❧ teaser word count: 960 | full fic: 18.3k ❧ warnings: just cursing for the teaser ❧ genre: fluff, humor, one heavy makeout scene but no actual smut, 0.1 seconds of angst if you can even call it that, academic rivals to lovers, modern magical creatures au, college au, siren reader, human renjun ft. siren ten, same universe as strawberry sunday ❧ extra info: this work is set in the same universe as strawberry sunday but can be read as a standalone! there is no continuing plotline between fics in this universe, they simply take place in the same world/magic system and may have overlapping characters (neos may pop up in more than one work!) ❧ author’s note: y’all. get ready for this one. no spoilers but spoilers renjun and reader r both crazy (academically) and nobody should be subjected to them except each other. like they both look at the other and think “i could fix them but whatever the fuck is wrong with them is infinitely funnier to me” but they’re both Wrong. they could not fix each other. anyway as always i had way too much fun writing this that it went over my projected word count and i hope y’all have a lot of fun reading it too <33

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ explore the strawberry sunday universe more here!

Pulling your lips into an alluring smirk, you nodded, “You’re right. It doesn’t take a rocket surgeon to figure out that—”

“A fucking what?” He cut you off, his face scrunching up as he blinked at you in confusion.

“Obviously it’s going to be one of us two, since we’re the two best students in the program.”

“Well, yes.” He nodded, seeming to let go of what had presumably been another one of your jumbled human malaphors. You admittedly hadn’t been living among humans for terribly long, and for some reason their idioms just didn’t stick in your brain very well.

“I mean, we not only are dedicated to the field itself and the content we study in class, but the program too. We probably know everybody in it, professors and students, right? Between the two of us?”

Renjun considered this for a moment. “Yeah, probably. We’ve both taken on a lot of SI and tutor opportunities for lower-level classes.”

“Right. So, you know those forums the school has on the online class platform? The general message boards?”

“Yes. Why?”

“I’m going to need you to sit tight with me on this until I finish talking, okay?” You pointed at him sternly. He nodded slowly. “Good. Back in the fall, about the end of September, I was on the message boards, just browsing around killing time. I was in the Tips & Advice section and saw this post. It was a gryphon who was losing feathers on one specific spot on her wing, and she didn’t know why. The witch she went to didn’t why, nobody could figure it out. I was about to reply asking if it was her left or right, when I saw that somebody else already had. It was her left, and she’s a lefty. The same person replied again, asking if she sleeps with her wings out or not. She sleeps with them out. It turns out she was stress-preening in her sleep. Username: dr_magic2303. A couple weeks later, same message board, Tips & Advice, a human is suddenly producing dark purple goop from his feet but it’s so slippery he can’t even leave to go see a doctor or a witch and he was typing the post from his bathroom. Within an hour, this Dr. Magic is back telling him someone’s put an aether ooze hex on him, and to sit down and scoot on his butt to the kitchen and gather up all these ingredients for a cleansing foot bath. And if he doesn’t have them, then he’ll have to butt-scoot his way to an apothecary or call one who does home deliveries. Now people are posting on there specifically asking Dr. Magic to come heal all their magical aches and pains.”

Renjun stared at you, unblinking. The pen had gone still in his hand.

You breathed in, continuing, “I tracked this Dr. Magic all the way back to their first post in the first week of fall semester of this year. Now, I’ve been trying to figure out who they are on my own, and I’ve made a lot of progress on who they aren’t. But I’m going to lose access to those message boards once we graduate at the end of the semester. I know Dr. Magic has to be an MCS major, there’s no way they would be able to have to breadth, depth, and flexibility of knowledge by just Googling this stuff. And you and me, Renjun, I know we can do this. Not only do we know MCS, but we know the department, the people in it. It has to be us.”

He was still staring at you, mouth slightly agape. Then, his whole demeanor shifted. He dropped his leg so that both his feet were on the ground, and he resumed spinning the pen.

“Okay. I’ll help you.” He nodded thoughtfully. “If you’ll do something for me.”

“Do what?” You straightened up.

“I’ll tell you after we find Dr. Magic.”

You crossed your arms. “No, tell me now or no deal.”

“I tell you after, but you can still say no then if you don’t want to do it.” He bargained.

“That just sounds even more concerning, Renjun. Tell me now or I’ll do it myself.”

“I’m hurt. What happened to ‘it has to be us?’”

“I’m a siren, I know how to sweet talk. Don’t take it personally.” You snorted. “Now, what do you want from me?”

“You’re a siren,” he echoed plainly, as if that were all the explanation you needed.

“And you’re a genius.” You retorted. “Tell me now or I walk out.”

“I... want to experience siren venom. For science.”

Oh, you could kiss him right now, no deal necessary. He was meeting your gaze head-on, a slightly unhinged glint in his eye. Not a hint of fear, just a craving for new experiences, unbridled curiosity. Yeah, he was a bit crazy, you were realizing four years on, and you wanted him.

“You’re insane.”

He leaned back in his seat, putting his hands up in front of him in an ‘I-don’t-care’ gesture, “If you don’t want to find Dr. Magic—”

“I didn’t say no, I said you’re insane,” you corrected him with a grin, dragging your eyes up and down his form as he sat so confidently, negotiating with a siren like it was any average Tuesday for him.

“So do we have a deal?” He set his pen down and held a hand out to you.

“You help me find Dr. Magic, then I’ll spit in your mouth.” You momentarily thought about the disparity in division of labor on that, but decided not to point it out aloud. Easiest handshake of your life. “Deal.”

You wanted to eat him alive.

⤷ blog masterlist  ⤷ anthology masterlist

#renjun #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #huang renjun #renjun x reader #renjun imagine #nct imagine #nct dream imagine #nct imagines #renjun imagines #nct dream imagines #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #renjun fluff #i: renjun #f: dr_magic2303 #dm: teaser #au: strawberry sunday

[william-barnes-poetry]

"Lita of the Dark ~ William Barnes Poetry: The Ineffable Ramblings of a Loveless Lover

'Despondent creature, morose and sullen frame, what curls your eyes to meet those you love; your bullies fully to blame. They silence every whimper of desperate malaphors; one part pain, the other part utility, they keep evening the scores.

In what they spit when you rage, does rise its bile and smoke, of which no innocence can endure, on your pleas you always choke. They take all; a bit at a time, obtuse and obvious they flay, with knives made from fractured love, the flesh falls away, what remains is never thought of, they don't worry for your pain, it's all about what you do for them in this emotional Rollercoaster game.

But I see you under all this gore; you sit there where you were before! But something has moved, something has changed, now you bleed; bloodied and caged. Your a sprite protecting a dying light, to the torments of the creeping night, meant to banish loved ones fright!... with no one there to hold it tight.

She does not see she is the source, she rages an eternal remorse, and begs for life and death of course! For those she loves against willful force. A fractured flame inside a glass, where the air depletes as they remove their mask. No clemency from a haunting past, made even now inside every task.

Under it all is just a face empty of all that is true, they cannot see what's in front of them; especially if it's you. "Their monsters!" she might scream, if she could feel surprise, she accepted that here in this place; The sun will never rise.

But little light within the dark, I tell you this is true; you are the light within the dark, the light you guard is you.

It's powerful out in the world about and its warmth outshines the sun. it craves for love, craves for light! For good memories and fun. Hear it beckon to the dark; it gives and never takes, that's why these vampiric souls around seem to always take.

So hear me when i say this, i know that it is true, that the little light within the dark they take; is really you.'

#spilled poetry #poetry #spoken poetry #spilled ink #writing #art

[budsintoyland]

Wanna be more active on this blog but don't have anything to post rn art wise so FUN FACT ABOUT LESLIE!

Leslie is incredibly silly and one of my favorite things is writing stuff for Leslie BECAUSE their a stupid little silly. They tend to use alliteration which is always fun but ALSO they aren't very good at quoting well known idioms. They get all mixed up and so they say a lot of malaphors. And it's so fun to think those up.

So I'd probably say Leslie is just a silly little idiot.

Leslie would say they "ain't the sharpest bulb in the crayon box."

Worried about something that might go wrong? "We'll burn that bridge when we get to it"

Making amends after a fight? "No Worries! Water under the fish barrel"

And if you try and correct them they'll just laugh and say "You're a funny fella. Y'know that?"

#buds in toyland #TOYFOLK FUN FACT! #Leslie Legato #toytext

[merrywetherweather]

combining the idioms "tit for tat" and "eye for an eye" to get the new malaphor "tit for an eye" which I'm gonna define as paying back a petty slight with an act of gruesome vengeance.

#malaphors #we're having fun with language today

[iammycharacter]

instead of saying “this melts my heart” or some version of this saying; try replacing heart with different organs

For example

“This melts my liver”

“This warms my spleen”

“You heated my lungs”

Or sound like a country boy: “this really boils my pancreas”

#have fun!! #cursed thoughts #cursed #malaphor #maybe #it’s close enough #whatever butters my chicken I guess #my post

[the-ellia-west]

Malaphor of the day

The cat got my tongue out of water

#fun malaphor #malaphors #malaphor #shitpost #funnyshit #funny #shit

[procrastilate]

flowering tea, butter tea, 24 flavors?

Flowering tea: What is a movie you can always watch?

Short Term 12 - that shit is heartbreaking

Butter tea: Show / Tell me about one thing in your room you find awesome.

it’s kinda lame but i’m so proud of my PC like i built it and it is (admittedly, subjectively)  beautiful and i am still kinda in awe that i did that y’know

also my fossil collection and in particular my irregular echinoid, but lots of people don’t find that awesome

24 flavors: What is your favourite word?

protoconch or malaphor (more the concept of malaphors) - I can’t decide.

#ask game #i highly recommend everyone find out about malaphors #i think they are great #and as an autist that doesn't always understand expressions it is a fun way to mak efun of them and make them into franken-expressions that #make even less sense #answered #thank you!!!!!! #serostudies

[coquelicoq]

For the letter ask, can you do the letter M?

i love magnets because of that tumblr post that says no one really understands magnetism. i don't know if that's true, but it reminds me of one of my favorite things about science, which is the awareness that we only know a fraction of what there is to know. (my other favorite thing is about science is the curiosity and drive to know more than we do currently.) magnets are also fun because of the whole "opposites attract" thing, which is a cliche for a reason. also i love magnets because they allow me to stick my siblings' photos and the art they drew for me when they were little to my fridge <3

i love my tag #me when i discovered narwhals and hope to have many more opportunities to use it in the future.

i love malaphors and mondegreens and memes. i love the way our brains connect things to make new things, often on accident, and i love it when the new things are funny.

i love the moon. oh, how i love the moon. i love how lonely she is and yet how every time i look at her i know someone else is looking at her too. i love that there's just this huge body that appears in the sky every few weeks, wherever i am, and she's been doing that for eons. like, there's nothing else i can see from inside of my house that is that ancient. there's nothing else i can see on a regular basis that i know billions and billions of other people have also seen. i love how she's not visible all the time so that when she is, i still feel excited about it. i love that she can't see me back and that she doesn't care about me or about anything at all. i love my playlist of songs about the moon. i love using she/her pronouns for the moon. i love how she protects us from asteroids! when i think about the tides i get incredibly fucked up about it. we're a system! we affect each other!!!!!

speaking of. i love mutualism and mutual aid. i love that we want to help. i love that we want to be helped. i love that we want to be part of something bigger than ourselves. i love that we want to belong and to contribute.

i love it when things are meta, by which i mean i love it when things are self-referential. i love it the way i love autology, when something is an example of what it describes. i also love what tumblr calls meta, fan analysis of shows and books and whatnot, but who doesn't??

i love math. i love that math is systematic and reliable but i also love it for the exact opposite reason...i love math because it's so complex, because it's so unfinished, because it's so unpredictable. because what it's describing is complex and unfinished and unpredictable! i love the t-shirts my friends and i made in math club in high school (i, my imaginary friend) and these very bad math pickup lines i made to impress a beloved mutual.

i love mortality. i love knowing that i am mortal. i love knowing that existence is change, that things come to an end, that entropy is natural.

i love that mourning and morning are homonyms. i love that life goes on but i am changed. i love the things in life that are cyclical, that remind me that i'm part of the great turning of all things.

i love the word maybe. i love that it's a verb phrase turned into an adverb. i love the hope inherent in it. i love that you never know. you never know.

#hmmmm. i am sensing some themes haha #thank you for this ask! turns out M is a banger of a letter! she is doing so much for us!!!! #asks #not anon #luna #math #f #links

[flyingmustachio]

Cinnamon Popes

One of my most favorite things is making up ridiculous, dadaist, nonsense idioms and malaphors. Tonight's favorite that just popped into my head out of nowhere: "If wishes and hopes were cinnamon popes, we'd all eat Vatican churros."

I can't be the only person who does this, can I? What gems have you come up with?

#wordplay #malaphor #fun

[cloudninetonine]

SexyVoice!Player accidentally cqlling Sky or Time "babygirl," realizing halfway through the next sentence what they said, then darting away to go die in a hole somewhere. (Link trying to figure out why he liked it so much.)

I'm not a First simp (yet, probably), but what I know of him is that he's a gentleman. Consider him doing his damnedest to not stare at Player's legs, even when he knows they're flirting.

Playfully bullying Wars (why is it so EASY) but appreciating him when he's down or someone goes a little too hard on the heckling or someone not in the chain or his friend group tries it. ("Tries" because that's not gonna stand.) He's a city boi, right? Torturing him with yall, yaint, no you arent = no yaint = naint, yallmightve/yallmighta, also I feel like he and Legal would hate malaphors (mixing metaphors/idioms that mean similar/roughly the same thing). "When the cows freeze over," "it's not rocket surgery," etc.

Imagine trying to give Wolfie a bath but Player strips down a bit to get fewer clothes wet (and it's hot outside, though that might just be Twi blushing as much as a wolf can--or all the fur). Wolfie is instantly squirming away and trying to leave because hE CAN'T HANDLE THIS but this isn't Player's first rodeo and they manage to bribe him with pets or something. The rest of the chain is laughing and watching the shenanigans (and trying not to ogle) and Wolfie covers them in water and fur (GOOD LORD ALMIGHTY mans sheds a lot)

Player "ok boomer"ing legend and refusing to explain. If they ever meet a living noble/monarch who's an asshole, they'd say it to them, too.

Four or Roolie losing their marbles over Player's bobbies when Player shoves their faces into 'em in a hug (intentionally or not). It doesn't matter how much (or how little) fatty tissue Player's boobas got they got tiddy MUSCLE and the boys are suffocating. Whether that's due to being smothered in hakuna matatas or they stopped breathing from shock remains to be seen.

I can't believe I typed some of that lol what have we done. Poor mans must be exhausted and dizzy running through my mind all day (and rotating them like they're in the microwave poor sods)

There's so many fun was to refer to chesticles. I'm really glad words like "tit" and "boob" are being used more gender-neutrally now (and bosom, at least once) (and breasts, of course, but that came from breast so it feels odd idk. Then again it's weird that I don't see it used gender-neutrally as much. Probably because it's not nearly as fun a word)

-Cosmo

AAAAA THE HONRY, IT'S SPREADING!!!!

I'm not complaining though I love everything about this.

#cloud answers #Anon asks

[poetrex]

I like the cut of your gist:

a picture in hand is worth a thousand in the bush, & when the pedal tests the mettle, the sky is your oyster— a fool & his feathers soon flock together, but absence makes the heart beat faster.

#poem #fun with malaphors #malaphor #saying #malaprop

[smolpocketmonstercoffee]

Scrutiny & Aid

               The world was cool outside of the mess hall and he wished he could freeze the words that echoed around in his head at his retreat from his sister and his new comrades. He wished he could take those frozen words and shatter them to snow and leave them to the wind to carry them away and disappear.

               They went on a job and didn’t come back.

               Those words were still bitter in his throat.

               Assan didn’t know.

               And she never would.

               She had only been nine, too young and too unobservant to know that he made them go after them. Too tired to notice him slipping away from her side in the depths of the night to find them.

               And he found them.

               To him, his family had always been so huge. So strong. So unstoppable. But even the huge, the strong, the unstoppable could be made small, made weak. Could be stopped.

               There would always be someone better, Zese told him whenever Shanedan had gotten frustrated with himself at not being better. There will always be someone better than you. Better than me. And there will be someone better than that too. And until there is no one left, there will always be someone better.

               Well someone better had found his family.

               And the aftermath had left their bodies almost beyond recognition.

               If he hadn’t known them so well.

               If he hadn’t known Ore and Ghorbash’s horns. The missing fingers on Zese’s hands. The broken bit of blade lodged in Maltese’s back that had been slowly killing him by blood poisoning, too dangerously close to his spine that Katria didn’t have faith in herself enough to be able to remove it safely. The smell of magic that perpetually clung to Katria.

               He had been theirs for ten years.

               How could he have not known them so well?

               They had saved him. Had given him a purpose, a name, a day to celebrate being alive.

               They had given him something else as well.

               A family.

               And he had been the one to bury them.

               Shanedan didn’t remember if he had wept but he did recall that Assan was so incredibly unobservant as per usual that she didn’t notice the blisters in his hands that weren’t there the night before. Ghorbash would have thumped her in the forehead for not paying attention better. But he wasn’t there anymore. Katria would have worried over his hands and scolded him for not wearing gloves. But she wasn’t there anymore. Maltese would have sighed and shook his head before telling him to go cut more firewood. But he wasn’t there anymore. Zese would have tousled his hair and said something to lighten the mood. But he wasn’t there anymore. Ore would have simply told him to keep Assan safe.

               Because she wasn’t there anymore.

               Assan was all he had left.

               And he would die to keep her safe.

               That was why he brought her here.

               She wanted to fight. He wanted her safety.

               And if anything happened to her, it would have to wait until after his corpse was cold as the stones of Skyhold’s wall.

               Settling into the snow on the outer edge of the wall, Shanedan breathed, letting the icy air whistle past his ears and carry away his thoughts like leaves on a river, snowflakes falling clinging to his eyelashes. Melting on the bare skin of his face.

               Thinking about them wouldn’t bring them back.

               Thinking about his words wouldn’t take them back.

               Assan was no doubt correcting the mood he had left behind with their new teammates, and he would let her.

               And he let the noise of the world around him lull him into a quiet sense of serenity, a temporary sensation of stillness in his forever restless soul that went uninterrupted long enough that when he emerged from it, his broken and mended bones ached, the hot grain bag was cool, and his fingertips, ears, and nose stung from the chill.

               Two hours maybe.

               He was covered in powder white and when he shook himself, the wind swept in and carried it away.

               The rest of it would melt off once he was inside either the kitchens or the stables. One or the other would want his help.

               Is-There-Anything-I-Can-Help-With Shanedan.

               The ex-merc soldier who was never satisfied by just training or screwing off like other soldiers. In the absence of an assignment, a training demand, or his sister, he had to keep himself busy. Useful. Otherwise, what was he doing with his life?

               He could hear the soldiers that he passed, taller than most but never taller than any of his own kind. Runt was murmured like a curse behind his back among Qunari but at least he was no longer raas.

               Ore and Zese and Katria and Maltese and Ghorbash had made sure of that.

               “Shanedan.”

               He blinked in surprise as he became aware of a voice not far from him, catching him off guard and directing his attention that should have been focused, and he looked back to the speaker with his brows mildly raised.

               “I trust you ae not out here in the cold because the others chased you off?” His new team leader inquired, one of his meticulous brows arched. Careful. Like he was already considering actions to take place depending on Shane’s own answer.

               A breath and the vashoth shook his head, offering the Dalish the barest whisper of a smile on his lips that didn’t break the rest of his stotic face. A poker face worth playing, he had heard someone describe him. He could lie and no one would know. But Assan knew. Somehow she knew. “No, sir,” he answered. “I was simply meditating.”

               Hanin regarded him for a moment and Shanedan watched those green eyes of his flick over his face.

               He knew what he was looking for.

               The man he had heard many things about, some benign, most good, was looking for hints of a lie that was entirely absent.

               A hard-ass, most said, but Cullen held him in great faith. He wasn’t as cold as some soldiers grumbled he was. The way he had handled the remainder of training that morning had confirmed it as well.

               And then he nodded, glancing to the gentle snow that was still falling.

               “Do you often meditate in the snow?” He asked. “The barracks are usually empty during the afternoon. If you prefer.”

               A kindness he didn’t need to offer.

               And Shanedan allowed a little bit of emotion to soften his expression. “The open air is typically kinder to my goal than doing so inside. Sounds have room to move. It’s less distracting,” he explained, one of his ears twitching as he heard a snicker and a muttered curse of his breeding behind his back that he ignored as he always did. Some soldiers still didn’t think fondly of a qunari among the army, especially not one with a hot-headed sister who had a penchant for disobedience.

               Shanedan Shanedan, some Qunari liked to tease.

               They weren’t wrong.

               I-Hear-You Shanedan.

               Hanin frowned thoughtfully, “Sounds have room to move?” he repeated, his voice sounding curious. “When some meditate, they aim to block everything out. I take it you… listen instead?”

               Without his permission, his mouth turned upwards before he corrected it, making a smile more like a smirk appear and disappear fast enough that if Hanin blinked he might have missed it entirely. “Yes, sir, I do,” Shanedan explained, turning fully to his superior officer, folding his hands behind his back and clasping his own elbows, “It’s easier for me, like floating on one’s back rather than treading water.”

               One required nearly no effort, the other demanded constant effort.

               Meditation, Zese and Katria had explained to him, was supposed to be gentle. Flowing. Why struggle and risk being pulled under the water when you could simply relax and look to the sky instead?

               His new team leader seemed to accept this, and even appreciate it almost.

               “Very good, then. It is a wise habit to maintain. A soldier’s mind is as important as their body. Too many neglect it,” the elf said, shifting and Shanedan heard the snow crunch beneath Hanin’s feet. He saw a slight smile at the corner of Hanin’s mouth. “You are without your sister,” he noted, “Though I imagine she is not one for meditation.”

               “She is not,” Shanedan agreed. Assan found it impossible to sit still for longer than three minutes let alone be able to manage to match his own meditation routine that could sometimes extend to be a few hours. She also didn’t have any particular taste for brain exercises that he did. “Assan enjoys her banter and socializing more. Speaking of which,” he noted, his meditation-addled brain jarring itself awake with the fact, “she and I grew more acquainted with our team at breakfast.” There was no point telling Hanin about a second near-miss altercation with Cyrus. He didn’t doubt that he would eventually hear about it, either from conversation with another or it would be brought up should their talk continue.

               And it did.

               “That is good.” Hanin sounded pleased by the news Shanedan had shared. “It will take time for you to feel like a unit, being a young squad compared to others. The more time you dedicate to anything, the better.”

               “Such is the case with all things,” Shanedan agreed, his head tilting slightly with a thought, “My only hopes are that Assan will begin to follow your instructions without my reinforcement quickly.”

               A smirk seemed to flit across Hanin’s lips. “Indeed. As for your sister, Cullen informed me of the… nature of her transfer. I can be lenient at Skyhold while we train but I will not be on the battlefield when lives are at stake. I hope she is a swift learner. For all our sakes.”

               Shanedan wouldn’t have it any other way, as harsh as some might think that were. This place felt good, it felt like an odd sense of kindness to Shanedan, and he hoped that it would work out for her. His sister didn’t have any more chances after this squad. If she messed this up, she would be kicked out of the army and it wouldn’t matter if he liked Skyhold or not, it didn’t matter that his record was relatively unblemished and he had many more opportunities here, if she left, he would go with her and that would be the end of it.

               “I assure you that I will be paying attention on the battlefield to ensure there are no repeats of that event, sir.”

               Hanin watched him for a moment and then released a short breath. “There will come a time when you and Assan will need to be able to work independently. Building trust is what we try to do here.

               Speaking of trust, the thought that crossed Shanedan’s mind made his expression pinch slightly in resignation with an almost withheld sigh on his breath, “I also hope that she and Cyrus might avoid going completely teeth-and-claws at each other until then.”

               At the mention of Cyrus, Hanin snorted. “Those two will… clash. But while Cyrus will never admit it, he grows attached. Once the two of you have settled in, he will ease.” A pause and then a sigh that entirely mirrored Shanedan’s emotions on the matter, “Somewhat.”

               “I’m honestly surprised they don’t like each other more. They are two different brands of the same impossible stuff,” Shanedan sighed.

               Then a thought seized his brain so jarringly fast that it made Shanedan physically wince, his hold on his own expression laxing to restrained terror at the thought of Assan and Cyrus actually becoming friends and reigning terror upon Skyhold with the more assholish side of their personalities. “Please forget I said that, Divines, that would be bad.”

               This time Hanin snorted in amusement, his arms folding across his armored chest and he shook his head. “They say people can be too similar and that in itself can cause conflict. Particularly when the similarities are combative ones.”

               Wasn’t that for certain…

               A smirk tugged at the corner of Hanin’s mouth, briefly drawing Shanedan’s attention to the scar that caught the edge of his lower lip before going up no higher than the bottom of his nose all before the vashoth’s eyes went back to his team leader’s face.

               Ralon had a scar similar, further to the corner of his mouth than Hanin’s and it went halfway up his cheek, partnered with a small one on his nose. There was just something that drew his attention to those scars. Maybe it was the location? Mouths were so unique after all. Voices too.

               Hanin had a nice one.

               “But yes, I agree. The two of them would be… difficult.”

               Shanedan allowed his shoulders to relax, letting out an almost nervous breath. “Hopefully the altercations will die down quickly between them. I don’t believe the rest of the team would appreciate our moving into the squad’s barracks just to end up listening to the makings of a fist-fight in progress. Although I think it would be good sparring practice for both of them,” he added as an afterthought. Let them blow off some steam, potentially work out their differences. It would have to be refereed appropriately of course, otherwise things could go badly.

               His squad leader raised his chin, giving a slight hum in agreement. “A step ahead, I see why your sister would trust you so deeply.”

               That is hardly a step ahead, Shanedan thought, keeping his expression trained. Assan’s trust in him came from years of devotion, not mediating her fights with whoever she happens to butt heads with.

               “They will spar, and they will do it on my watch. Outside of that, well. I can only hope it will not come to that,” Hanin stated, his expression growing sterner, “I won’t have my squad turning on one another off the field. Part of being a soldier is restraint. It can be a tough lesson to learn, particularly in challenging company.”

               And Assan and Cyrus were certainly challenging to each other’s company…

               “I will try to make sure it never gets to that point.” A slight and very sly smile crossed his lips as amusement reached his eyes, “Jabs at them flirting with each other seem to work thus far,” Shanedan decided to share, a fact that made Hanin laugh.

               “An interesting tactic. I am not one to turn down what works. Whatever keeps them in line.”

               It did work, and that was what mattered.

               Shanedan let out a breath, his thoughts turning away from the conversation.

               It was cold and idly standing there, even if it was being spent speaking to his squad leader, made him feel rather useless. Perhaps…

               “If you don’t mind my asking, sir, is there anything I can help with?”

               Is-There-Anything-I-Can-Help-With Shanedan, at your service indeed.

               The request seem to take Hanin aback, as though he hadn’t expected it. A long moment of stillness between their eyes and Hanin cleared his throat. “I… yes,” he said, sounding a little distracted as though he was rifling through his thoughts for just what Shanedan wanted, “There is new equipment at the blacksmith’s forge that needs to be moved to the armory. I was just heading there.”

               “I will help if you would like” the vashoth offered peacefully.

               “By all means. Come. The master smith does not take well to tardiness.”

               Wasn’t that a fact that Shanedan had become familiar with over the last month…

               With a simple motion, slight bend at the waist, mild turn of the wrist, he allowed Hanin to lead on, following easily. His boots gave noise that would have been otherwise absent otherwise.

               For a time, they walked in silence that both of them seemed to be mutually at home with, although it did not surprise Shanedan when Hanin decided to speak. “What are you and Assan hoping to get out of this?” he inquired when they climbed the stairs to the Great Hall. “People join the cause for various reasons. What’s yours?”

               And the Qunari held his own silence a bit longer before he replied.

               “Assan came because I suggested we come,” he stated. He had heard much about the Inquisition and the fight that they were leading to protect people. It paid as well. It offered a sense of security. “Assan wanted to fight, so that’s what she’s doing. My goal in joining the inquisition’s army was in hopes of ensuring stability for my sister’s life.”

               His eyes flicked over Hanin.

               He was his squad leader and he had asked.

               There was no point in omitting facts like that.

               “In case anything happens to me.”

               If anything he had heard about Hanin was true, then the elvish man would not miss the weight of his goal.

               “Both are fine goals,” he said after a moment, glancing over to meet Shanedan’s grey eyes. His eyes seemed soft almost, “Ones to be proud of. They will serve you well.” There was a brief pause before Hanin added, “War is a dangerous business. There are no guarantees, as I am sure I do not need to tell you. But you are under my command now albeit against your will. Your sister’s life, and yours, weigh equal to me.” Hanin pushed the door open to the storage area of the forge as he stated, “The bond of family—blood or chosen—is worth protecting. I, too, would not see it broken.” And then their eyes met, as though that would be enough for him.

               And although Shanedan had faith in him and his words, there was still a part of him that wanted to see those words come into action. A part of him that wondered if they were really true.

               A doubt that had he had never been able to shake in other people.

               It wasn’t anything against Hanin.

               Shanedan had just learned far too well what happened when you put too much trust in other people too early on.

               He had scars to prove it.

               “Against my sister’s will, yes, but not against mine, Hanin,” the vashoth decided to state, his voice gentle yet firm, stormcloud grey gaze absolutely unwavering with his team leader.

               He was his sister’s tag-along after all. He had chosen to transfer with her rather than remain in his previous squad, a squad he could have stayed in but chose otherwise. It was not a completely awful thing to transfer considering the fact that Assan and Shanedan both thought that their previous squad leader was rather incompetent to his duties.

               “I heard good things about you and what you are doing with your squad,” Shanedan continued, words calm and steady as his gaze, “Things that I was able to confirm not only during training this morning but at breakfast as well.”

               But there were other things he wanted to confirm as well, things Hanin probably didn’t know Shane would be judging him on, particularly on the battlefield. Respect and compliance were different than trust and only a great few people had ever earned Shanedan’s complete trust. Warfare was Shanedan’s playground and he had hopes that this team leader might have the chance to be one of them.

               “I appreciate that, Shanedan. We all do what we can for the cause and for the people we serve alongside.”

               Stepping into the forge storage, Hanin and Shanedan both picked up a crate, Hanin grunting from the weight while Shanedan maintained his silence, his expressions straining for a moment and Hanin shoved the door back open, holding it open for the Qunari and then they walked to the armory.

               “Before we continue further with your training, is there anything about you or your sister that it would be best I know?” the squad leader inquired.

               It was hard to talk and keep his breath level at the same time and for a moment Shanedan felt a little envious at Hanin’s strength, he didn’t seem half as bothered by the weight as Shanedan personally felt he himself was. Swallowing, he said shortly, “Assan’s impatience is her main issue. She’s strong but her technique is lacking a bit. Observation as well. And her footing isn’t stable when she’s not on flat ground,” he informed his companion, reminding himself of his breathing, “As for myself, there will always be things I could be significantly better at.”

               “I see. And what things do you seek to improve.”

               Sweat on Shanedan’s hands weren’t helping with his traction and he adjusted his grip on the crate. “Strength for one. Stamina. Endurance. I would like to improve my hand-to-hand as well.”

               His stamina and his hand-to-hand wasn’t really something that he needed to polish as they were two of his most proficient skills right alongside blocking and dodging but there was always room for improvement. What he really wanted to improve was disarming his opponent but why not improve all of it?

               It wasn’t as though he had exposed all his cards to Hanin yet with that spar against Cyrus.

               Only Assan knew all the tricks he had up his sleeve. Anyone could be an enemy.

               “I had a feeling,” he heard Hanin say. “You are already fast and precise. Strength and stamina make the most sense.” He saw Hanin shift the crate a little higher in his arms. “Just as well you offered to tag along. As far as endurance goes, this is decent training in and of itself.”

               “I could be better at those too,” Shanedan said, trying to keep the strain out of his voice as his jaw started to clench a little.

               “Of course. There is room for improvement for all of us regardless of how skilled we may be. But it is also important to acknowledge our strengths or we forget we have them. Pushing yourself is well and good but punishing yourself is not. With anything, if you take it too far, you will only cause yourself pain. That will set you back.”

               Those words sounded oddly a lot like the ones Ore and Maltese would tell him. Strange to think it had already been thirteen years since they died.

               Shane said nothing, his attention mostly on adjusting his grip so he didn’t drop the crate, the muscles attached to his collarbone protesting this exercise and making his brows pinch together.

               Pausing on the path, Hanin lowered his crate onto one of the low posts of the fence, giving Shanedan the grateful opportunity to do the same so they could stretch and shake out their muscles that had begun to tighten and burn.

               “I forget, sometimes, how large Skyhold truly is,” Hanin said, sounding like a confession, “Perhaps I am just unused to walls and towers. Viewed from the outside, they always made everything seem so… confined.”

               Leaning on the crate, Shane stretched his fingers out individually, knuckles cracking as he flexed each digit one by one. No doubt if he wanted to continue lifting crates and traveling distances like this he would have to get some gloves, his traction was so poor. Looking up at the towers, he remembered something absently about forts, all forts including Skyhold.

               “Have you ever noticed the stairs in towers are astonishingly uneven?” he asked Hanin as he steadied his own breathing. When the elf looked, he gave a slight smile, feeling wise as he explained, “They’re designed that way so that the occupants of the fort, who are used to them, will ascend quickly while attacking foreigners will struggle against them.”

               Hanin glanced back towards the towers, an eyebrow arched. “Huh. Here I just assumed time had worn them down or they had been made poorly to begin with.”

               Technically speaking, they had been poorly made but as it turned out, it worked in the disadvantage of anyone who was aiming to attack. One’s environment helped evolve habits after all.

               “Who taught you that?”

               “I noticed it when I was young; every fort I had been in had uneven stairs in the towers,” he admitted. “Zese, my teacher, eventually asked an architect for me.”

               He had been eight back then.

               Assan had still been a baby.

               “A keen eye for detail and the curiosity to pursue it. If only more people shared those traits.”

               He sounded pleased.

               And for a moment, Shanedan allowed himself to feel a little proud.

               “I had the chance to ask questions and get answers, so I did.”

               They picked up their crates to begin the final stretch towards the armory, walking side by side this time.

               “You spent much of your time in forts?”

               “Assan and I were raised by a group of mercenaries. We traveled a lot.”

               “A difficult experience, I imagine. But one that made you and your sister who you are. Do you have any family other than each other?”

               A smile like a wince tugged at Shane’s lips and disappeared.

               “No,” he answered quietly. “We’re all we have left.”

               “I see. I’m sorry.”

               Shane wished people would stop saying I’m sorry.

               “It was the risk they chose when they decided to become mercenaries. It was the risk we agreed to when we decided to follow in their footsteps. By being here, maybe the cycle will change for us.”

               He couldn’t recall how many times he had told himself that over the years.

               It had almost become a mantra at that point.

               “Very well. Your point stands true, but you are still allowed to miss them.”

               And he did.

               Reaching the armory, Hanin shoved the door open, propping it open with his body and Shane stepped inside to deposit his crate, pushing it into place and then taking Hanin’s crate from him so as to spare his fellow soldier the trouble.

               With a breath of relief, Hanin relaxed, “Some of the other squads were tasked to fetch the other crates as part of their daily chores, so we can save ourselves another trip.”

               For that, Shanedan was eternally grateful.

               Together, they stepped back out into the cold open air and Shanedan felt some form of mild surprise when he felt Hanin’s hand come to rest on his shoulder. “Thank you for your help. I appreciated the company.”

               The Qunari spared him a smile. “I’m glad to help. If you ever need any assistance, just ask.”

               There was a light squeeze and then Hanin let go. “As you were then. And if anyone gives you or your sister trouble, you can always come to me.”

               The offer was surprisingly sweet. Comforting. And a thankful smile touched Shanedan’s lips.

               “Thank you, Hanin, I will.”

               As they parted ways, Shanedan realized with some slight annoyance that he had been too focused on the conversation and hadn’t been able to figure out Hanin’s walking pattern. Next time perhaps. And Shanedan made his ways to the kitchens where three buckets of potatoes were waiting for him to peel for today’s lunch.

               Peacefully, he weathered through the cook’s scolding for not showing up sooner and then he went to work.

               And that was enough for him.

               He would do what he could here and then he would find Assan and they would move their things out of their previous barracks and into the Dawn Squad’s. There would be less privacy and he would be more hard-pressed to change the bandages that covered the worst of his insecurities without being spotted but he had time to figure it out. He would burn that bridge when he crossed it.

               Was that the right idiom?

#shanedan has trust issues can you tell? #I also love that malaphor #my ocs #dragon age inquisition #Shanedan #Assan #history reveal #Hanin Lavellan #thereluctantinquisitor #smolpocketmonstercoffee #qunari oc #other peoples ocs #RP collaboration #thank you reluct for the RP I had so much fun