#Blackwall Tunnel

[stankhole]

inquisition companions and their medical issues/diagnosis

sera: adhd & lactose intolerance

blackwall: arthritis & depression

dorian: ibs, eczema, environmental allergies

iron bull: celiac disease

cassandra: eczema & chronic back pain

vivienne: asthma

varric: peanut allergy & dad cough

cole: dyslexia & autism

solas: carpal tunnel & male pattern baldness

cullen: myopia, hypertension, ulcers

leliana: bum knee & shellfish allergy

josephine: carpal tunnel, celiac disease, migraines

this is for you @nokdunal

[selkiesoup]

Sera: Why are dwarves so short but carve their tunnels so tall?

Blackwall: They choose to show their stature in other ways... Or it's compensation.

Sera: Okay. The second obvious reason is funny you answered. You're swinging a giant sword around.

Blackwall: That's not compensation. That's a counterweight.

Blackwall is packing a horsecock #confirmed

[ocelotrevs]

Blackwall Tunnel Southern Approach

8th June 2023

Ig: Walkuponacloud

[dragonagecompanions]

Could you do like a head cannon for like 1920 noir inquisitor companions/romances

You have to listen to this while you read.

Cassandra: She's a hardened murder cop with a hidden love for romance and no mercy for the criminal underground. She wrote the book on playing by the rules, but when things get tough she'll stab the book and do what's right.

Varric: Sometimes an author has to know his element to discover the truth. Few people would expect the renowned serial novelist to be caught dead in a speakeasy as seedy as the Hanged Man, but with a pencil behind his ear (and a hand always ready on a pistol with his lover's named carved into the barrel) he's always on the hunt for a story.

Solas: A bartender more comfortable with spirits than people, the elf behind the bar at the Dread Wolf is a hard man to read. Good for stiches in a pinch and no slouch in a fight when it suits his fancy, he owes no power in the city alliegence-- and no one knows his end game.

Blackwall: It takes guts to fake your way into a gang like the Wardens, but Thom Rainier's in too deep to back out now. With a dead man's name and street rep to keep the dogs at bay the hardened enforcer can only try to atone for his past-- and fight for a better future.

Vivienne: Very little is known about Madame de Fer, owner and operator of the more exclusive brewery this side of the Tevinter boarder, except that her gin has never seen a bath tub and the Templars don't bother her supply.

Any resemblance to the renowned socialite Vivienne the Enchantress is rarely commented onl; those who do rarely repeat the mistake.

Sera: With the gang warfare, the police cracking down on the littles and the templars hunting any unregulated booze for their prohibition on alcohol someone has to look out for the little guy. No one is really sure who Red Jenny is, but everyone knows that the street kids and pick pockets and beat down element knows her name-- and she is always watching.

The abandoned warehouse on the dock is her headquarters, full of her ill gotten gains and home to the fences who turn it into cash. Nobody starves and everyone profits. A tidy business, yeah?

Dorian: Everyone knows that there is more going on behind the scenes of the Halward Pavus Memorial Library than meets the eye, but no matter how many times it's raided the head archivist is always completely above suspicion. Books and learning are all that linger in those hallowed halls--please try to be quiet on your way out.

But everyone knows that at night Dorian Pavus puts down the index carts and hard backs to pursue his true passion-- and that the Tevinter will pay up to four sovereigns for a fresh corpse*. Medical science is varely stumbling into the light, and if his books on anatomy -so accurate as to be used as reference during surgeries- then the long hours spent on the dissecting table are well worth it.

The Iron Bull: Someone needs to make sure that the beer, wine, whiskey and gin finds its way from hidden distilleries to the thirsty patrons of the city's illicit watering holes. The Chargers are the best, expensive but worth the money to get things where they are going. With a sapper from the wars on tap rumor says they have their own tunnels under the city, but no one knows anything for certain. He runs a clean crew, dependable and honest. Madam de Fer makes frequent use of them.

And if The Iron Bull also reports to the higher ups in the Qun, the north side gang just waiting for a chance to take it all, that's his own business. Straining loyalties may bring it to a show down, but for now he's willing to ride the knife edge.

Cole: No one can really remember when the fortune teller's shop opened at the edge of town. One day it was simply there, mysterious and festooned with gauzy curtains and wreathed in fragrant incense. The nug motif is...a little odd, sure, but tame compared to the figure behind the crystal ball.

It's hard to see his eyes behind the wide brimmed hat, and those who do meet his gaze can't claim to enjoy the experience. But Cole has a way of getting into your head to the deepest thoughts and secrets waiting there and finding the best solutions. Whether he can see the future or not, enough people are willing to try to keep the doors open.

For now.

(I really couldn't figure out the romances. Hope this serves!)

(*in Canada and the US, the resurrectionist movement was still going strong into the late 1950s!)

Mod Fereldone

[stephensmithuk]

The Sign of Four: The End of the Islander

Mediæval is an archaic spelling of medieval, using the æ letter that is rare in English, but far more common in Danish, Norwegian and Icelandic, for example.

Ceylon was the name used for what is now Sri Lanka until 1972, when that country (which become independent in 1948) become a Republic. Today, the name only really remains in the country for Ceylon tea, apparently for marketing reasons.

There has been a police force dedicated to the Thames since 1798, being founded as the privately funded Marine Police to tackle the high volume of cargo theft from ships there. Two years later, the government set up the Thames River Police to replace the successful force. The Metropolitan Police took it over in 1839 and made it the Thames Division, it now being called the Marine Policing Unit. Historically, they also did search and rescue, today done by the RNLI.

They had just acquired their first steam launches by 1888, historically relying on rowing boats that had proved inadequate in an 1878 two-ship collision that had killed 600 to 700 people.

Gravesend is on the south bank of the Thames, twenty-one miles from Charing Cross. It was the first port of entry into London for a long time, but the opening of Tilbury Docks on the other side of the river took much of its traffic. The pilot station for the Port of London remains there, along with a RNLI lifeboat station.

There was also a ferry from Gravesend to Tilbury until March 2024, when it stopped due to lack of funding from the 'bankrupt' Thurrock Council, despite being popular.

Pocahontas is also buried in Gravesend.

The Downs is a ship anchorage off the port of Deal in Kent; ships would - and still do - anchor there to protect themselves from strong southerly or westerly winds (as the coast blocked them) or if waiting for suitable winds to head elsewhere. Indeed, the port town grew up to deal (pun intended) with their needs during their says.

There would be six bridges east of Westminster Bridge on the Thames at this time; Tower Bridge, opened in 1886, would be the easternmost crossing point that a pedestrian or carriage could use at this point. The Thames Tunnel was by now a railway tunnel. Those to the east of that were reliant on ferries until 1897, when the western part of the Blackwall Tunnel opened, in a few years becoming the bottleneck it still is to this day.

St Paul's Cathedral, at 111m high, was the tallest building in London from 1710 until 1939 when Battersea Power Station was completed at two metres taller. . Today, there are still restrictions on building new skyscrapers in London to ensure the catherdal can still be viewed.

The Tower of London had been a tourist attraction since at least the Elizabethean period; it was getting over 500,000 visitors a year by the end of the century, but still retained some non-tourist uses.

The Pool of London is the bit of the river from London Bridge to Limehouse - it was the site of the original port until the Docklands were built to deal with massive overcrowding. The maritime industry here effectively collapsed along with the rest of the docks in the 1960s, but this area hasn't seen as much regeneration as parts further east.

The West India Docks were three large docks and associated buildings built at the beginning of the 19th century (1800 to 1802) to deal with trade to/from the British West Indies, to wit the sugar produced by the slave labour in the plantations there; Robert Milligan, its architect, was a slave trader who was unhappy about the delays and theft of his goods at the wharves, so wanted a more secure facility. Closed in 1980, it was converted into the Canary Wharf development, with the famous Underground station built in the former middle dock.

Now I have mistaken a Newfoundland dog for a coat-wearing homeless person in the dark myself - they are very big dogs. However, this has to be taken in the context of the rest of the description of Tonga.

Barking Level is where the River Roding enters the Thames. It is a largely industrial area today.

Plumstead Marshes were an area of low-lying soggy ground that was used by the Royal Arsenal (see "The Bruce-Partington Plans") as a testing range; no human inhabitants (since Roman times, when the water levels were lower) and the soft ground could absorb explosions better. They were drained in the 1960s and most of the area become the new community of Thamesmead; one of those "futuristic estates" that instead became crime-ridden due to bad planning and lack of amenities, which have not yet been fully corrected.

A slightly graphic (including a nasty facial/eye injury) discussion of the problems of recovering bodies from the Thames can be found in this February 2024 news article on the search for a chemical attacker's body: https://news.sky.com/story/the-traumatising-search-for-dead-bodies-in-the-thames-and-why-dozens-are-found-every-year-13071612

[sourcreammachine]

AMY’S BRIDGES

how are you supposed to cross the river in east london?

tower bridge is the last bridge over the thames until the big ol’ suspension bridge way further out. everything else here is tunnels (mostly)

for road tunnels, there’s the rotherhithe tunnel - the tenth most dangerous tunnel in europe due to lax safety features, where large vehicles including busses are banned, and “a rare example of a road tunnel where traffic, pedestrians and cyclists all share the same bore”. for the love of sin, don’t go in that hole. then there’s the blackwall tunnel for road traffic only, which only one bus route uses, and it’s under-construction neighbour the silvertown tunnel, the road traffic-only worst tunnel ever that’ll increase congestion in the docklands, won’t benefit drivers with an easier route, and won’t ease congestion out of blackwall due to not offering alternative modes bar busses

so, then there’s the tunnel of the windrush line, crossing from rotherhithe to wapping and connecting to the DLR and the jubilee. but this line serves central-south london, not south east, where it doesn’t connect to anything. its utility as a crossing in-and-of-itself is really only for the people very close to it anyway. but there’s the jubilee - when approaching from waterloo way on this is a good connection to canary wharf and the dlr. but its last station before the tunnel is at canada water, over a kilometre before the river. it’s worthless as a crossing. out of north greenwich (aka Dome) it’s got two tunnels to canary wharf and canning town - but the only reason you’ll have to cross the river there is if you happen to find yourself on the peninsula. which is why it’s fucking ridiculous that mayor disgraced journalist racist cunt built his zip line there - basically fucking mirroring a route between two tube stations. there is the elizabeth at the end of the docklands, but i don’t know if anyone would use it for the only purpose of crossing the river there, because it’s served by the only ray of hope, the DLR, which plugs greenwich into canary wharf and woolwich into the royal docks. and that’s yer lot

SO

with such awful crossings, the two halves are totally blown apart. road traffic needs to happen, yes, but in a dense cityscape people need to be on the transit systems to reduce the burden. what can we do?

the pool of london is dead. big ships do not need to go up there. london bridge has a clearance of ~9m for river boats, so any bridge we build further out doesn’t need any more clearance. this does mean the Belfast will have to move, unless we’re okay with trapping her in. the top of rotherhithe to limehouse is the best place for a mass transit-only bridge, it may be narrower than tower bridge, and connect two areas that are totally splayed open. there should be some sort of transit mode going vertically from limehouse (for the dlr), up mile end and forking to either hackney or stratford, and down to surrey quays, and then forking to greenwich for the dlr there and west laterally, either north-ish up to elephant & castle or south-ish to brixton, or better yet, both. i say mode because a lot of things could work here, but the best would be a mix of things. here’s my idea

amy fuck presents the Limehouse Bridge

with a length-over-water of 250m, this carfree bridge connects a major transit avenue to an area prime to host connections for the people of southeast london. from the centre of limehouse, exactly where the rotherhithe tunnel’s bendy route emerges, the road south intersects with Cycle Superhighway 3. from CS3, we’ll bulldoze the tired-looking building blocking the view, and fly over to rotherhithe, bulldozing some gentrified townhouses to cut past a playing field to have plugged in to both rotherhithe street and salter road

i propose two primary pubtrans modes using the bridge: the dlr, and trams. expanding the heavy tram network, often more akin to light rail, will be vital to making the transit of central-south london as good as the north, and connecting up the dlr will cement its use in the southeast as well as the northeast

i’ll cover my dlr proposals first, though, perhaps the name docklands would have to be dropped at this point. with possibly a light rail route up north, from the limehouse bridge the light rail network can return round surrey quays to connect into greenwich, creating a vital and necessary corridor. in addition, from greenwich the route can continue to woolwich and the thamesmead extension, creating a lateral backbone to ensure usage of the dlr’s tunnels rather than the road tunnels. in addition, the lateral routes can provide vital transport for the greater southwark area with two branches, one forming a new corridor to elephant & castle, through an area with appalling connections relative to its centrality, maybe even continuing onwards to waterloo or vauxhall, or even to parliament itself. the second is to serve as an area backbone for communities, through bermondsey, peckham, camberwell and brixton, perhaps continuing to battersea or closing the loop at vauxhall. the limehouse bridge will be the linchpin of this new system, its connectivity bringing rotherhithe and the surrey quays to life, becoming a counterweight of humanity against the looming towers of canary wharf

the heavy tram systems i propose, however, i will not illustrate. because i believe they should spread out from their start in wimbledon, croydon and beckenham to form a much larger network for south london, replicating, surpassing the north’s tube, much larger than i can draw today. from limehouse bridge, the heavy tram network can integrate the areas south of the brixton spoke: crystal palace, dulwich, norwood, streatham, clapham, tooting, bromley, lewisham

all of which leaves limehouse bridge: pedestrians, cycle superhighway, light rail, heavy tram, no motor vehicles. a triumph of modern planning, the aorta of the east

so with the dlr from this bridge serving the greenwich and deptford regions, no more crossings will be needed here due to the dlr’s tunnel at the end of the isle of dogs. it’s all plugged in - and the dome has the jubilee tunnels, which could be co-opted by any new over-ground “underground” lines to serve the area if they are needed. destroy the fucking cable car. fell it. yell timber

prioritising those heavy trams now, we can connect charlton through silvertown and eastenders with a new tunnel. with the unnecessary silvertown road tunnel opening 2025, more road connections aren’t needed. so - pubtrans from charlton to newham - then heavy trams in the tunnel like it’s a miniature channel tunnel. also feature pedestrian and cycle access, obviously

there had been suggestions that the suffragette line (formerly the goblin) after barking riverside might cross the river to thamesmead, where that dlr extension might go. do it. this has to be commuter rail now, as we’re threading suburbs together. after that, we’re probably well served enough until the dartford suspension bridge

but… cars and road traffic are an unfortunate reality. with ground broken (or water broken?) on the silvertown tunnel, unholy amounts of heavy traffic are going to be funnelled through greenwich and poplar. removing passengers who can be removed can only help us so much. the unfortunate truth is a woolwich road bridge, replacing the ferry, is a good idea. toll it to high hell obviously, but it should help ease congestion that has now been caused by the silvertown. with plentiful other passenger connections, and ensuring anti-car policies are kept up to make sure only people with a damn good reason are driving through the area, this bridge could be helpful. but of course, without any of that, it would be a polluting, congesting disaster. but we were on a spending spree anyway

anyway. bridges

[daitranscripts]

Trespasser Pt. 12

Lower Walkways

Trespasser Masterpost Previous: Jerran

The party continues through some tunnels.

Varric: Why is it so dark? Don’t dwarven ruins usually glow with… lyrium, or lave, or whatever’s running through the walls?

Sera: Dwarfy walls should glow. That’s what makes them… dwarfy.

Vivienne: Curious that the walls aren’t glowing. Even the dwarven ruins in Crestwood held on to their light.

Dorian: It shouldn’t be this dark. Dwarven buildings are usually lit by molten rock. That doesn’t just go out.

The PC finds a note.

This note is written in both common and Qunlat. The letters are shaky: ㅤㅤ ㅤ These walls of blue flame were cast by the agent of Fen'Harel as he ran through this place bringing chaos and destruction. Do not light fires from them. Do not go near them. Fen'Harel's mage-servant made them to hamper us, and they bring only death.

The continues, fighting Qunari along the way.

PC: Here they come!

They continue to fight.

Party comments:

Varric: You know, I went through one Qunari invasion. I was really hoping I’d never see another.

Cassandra: Last time, it took an Exalted March to stop the Qunari—and that barely worked. If they strike now, Thedas may fall.

Dorian: I’ve lived with the Qunari threat all my life. If it escalates, it won’t just be Tevinter fighting them.

Iron Bull: There’s got to be a mistake, boss. The Qunari wouldn’t invade now. It’s impossible.

They keep moving down the walkway.

PC: There’s one of the mining platforms. Now we just need primers.

The cavern shakes violently.

PC: This cavern is barely holding together.

They enter a dark room.

Party comments:

Blackwall: Ambush!

Cassandra: The Qunari! Look out!

Iron Bull :They found us!

Assassin: Come closer…

Assassin: You are blind, Inquisitor…

Assassin: I see you, bad. Do you see me?

Assassin: Do you fear the dark, Inquisitor?

Assassin: There’s so much you don’t see…

The party defeats the Qunari assassins and continues. They eventually come across a bridge.

Party comments:

Varric: Well, that certainly looks like a good spot for an explosion.

Cole: This is where they dig. Tricks and trials so the singing stones don’t kill them.

Dorian: What a well oiled operation the Qunari have! I think we should explode it, don’t you?

Sera: We’re blowing this thing up, right? Brilliant.

Vivienne: That looks like a perfect target. Don’t you agree, my dear?

They cross the bridge.

Party comments:

Varric: So… sneak in, get the primers, blow this mining operation sky-high? Sounds like fun.

Iron Bull: The gaatlok primers should be nearby.

Dorian: So the things we need to make the gaatlok explode are in here? Excellent.

Sera: Sneaksies, nick the primers, make everything go boom! (Laughs.)

PC: If that templar was telling the truth, the primers should be in here.

The head across the bridge towards a large room with a looming figure in the distance.

PC: We’re almost there.

They fight through more Qunari, and the PC finds the primers on a table.

PC: We’ve got the primers. Let’s go explode some gaatlok.

They stop to look out over a huge room full of lyrium containers.

Party comments:

Varric: Andraste’s ass, that’s a lot of lyrium.

Cassandra: That’s enough lyrium for an army of mages. Several armies, in fact.

Cole: They’re all singing. Coffers, coffins, corpses that aren’t dead. A song crying out in the dark.

Dorian: look at all that lyrium! I think I just heard the entire Magisterium cry out in envy.

Vivienne: Such a stockpile of lyrium… Even Orzammar doesn’t keep this much on hand.

They place the first primers and detonate them. The cavern begins to crumble and flood.

PC: That’s it! Lets get out of here and warn the others about this “Dragon’s Breath” plan.

Party comments:

Blackwall: Hopefully before this place floods any worse. Look at the water!

Cassandra: Good. Let’s move before this place fills with water.

Dorian: I doubt the oxmen or that rising floodwater will make it easy for us.

Iron Bull: Maybe red got news from her sources by now. We can ask her… you know, assuming we make it out of here without drowning.

Vivienne: We may have to swim out, my dear. Let’s hurry.

They begin to search for a way out, fighting Qunari as they go. They find some Qunari near gaatlok that looks set up.

PC: That barrel already looks primed.

The PC detonates it, opening an exit. If Jerren was told to leave, they pass his corpse on the way out.

PC: Poor man. He didn’t make it far.

They approach the exit.

If the PC is alone PC: “So… Cullen, Josephine, remember how I was going to handle the Qunari problem? Well, now we’re at war.”

If the PC is with a party PC: So, who gets to tell Cullen and Josephine we’re probably at was with the Qunari? Anyone?

Party comments:

Sera: Pfft. As if!

Iron Bull: Don’t look at me!

Varric: I’ll tell them if you want, but they’ll probably think I’m lying.

PC: (Sighs.) They’re going to kill me.

Next: Dragon’s Breath

[i-eat-worlds]

Alex & Friends Part 10: The Upstairs

Featuring an ambush, a hidden room, and my questionable knowledge of London’s geography.

cw: car crashes, little violence, minor injuries, thumbtacks used as weapons,

INSUPA’s London Center was far nicer and much larger than the one in Prague. Instead of a bland concrete slab on the far outskirts of the city, it inhabited an elegant metal and glass building on the Thames. After so many years in cheap apartments in questionable locations, she’d ended up back on the polished terrazzo floors of INSUPA. They didn’t really spend all that much time inside the building. It was more like a quick pit stop to pick up supplies for the safe house, and find Alex a couple changes of clothes, as well as some toiletries. She also took a small detour to the armory to outfit herself with several knives of choice. Only forty-five minutes after the group had landed, they departed for the safe house.

They split up into two sedans, one gray and one black. Sil, Eric, and Teri took the gray lead car, and Avia, Joseph, Alex, and Aarav sat in the black second car. The car ride was mostly silent, though Aarav groaned a little when Avia said they’d be taking Blackwall Tunnel to cross the river. Driving through the tunnel felt like it took forever. Every now and then, one of the bright orange panels passed by them, breaking up the otherwise monotonous tunnel. Aarav took the time to make some jokes about how poorly London’s transportation was designed. Avia agreed, stewing at the wheel when traffic ground to a halt. Eventually, they saw daylight at the end. However, when both cars emerged from the tunnel, climbing the ramp back to surface, something went very wrong. That was an understatement.

Things went to absolute, utter shit. A large SUV slammed into the back end of the gray car sending it off the road, over the sidewalk, and into a bed of ivy. Avia immediately slammed on the breaks. “We’re under attack!” She yelled. The car jolted forward when another car hit their back end. They’d been rear ended because of the sudden stop. Several people jumped from the SUV. Their heads were covered with balaclavas, and Alex noticed the purple glow that emanated from one of their hands earlier enough to loudly shout at everyone to duck. A blast of kinetic energy hit the car, shattering the windshield. “Go, go, go!” Joseph ordered.

Alex's hands moved like lightning as she pushed open the door. Another blast flew over her head, arcing over the open car door and landing on the pavement several feet from her. This one was green, and it sizzled into the pavement. As she drew one of the knives from her belt, a distressed yelp came from behind her. When she turned around to line up her shot, she found that one of her assailants had been impaled by what seemed to be thousands of thumbtacks. Avia was watching the downed attacker with an attentive eye. The second had been knocked out by Eric. Some sort of acid burn fizzled on his shoulder, but it seemed to be healing quickly. “Is everybody alright?” Eric asked. The group nodded their heads. Teri smiled widely, an empty bag in her hand. The thumbtacks must’ve been her. It was a smart idea. Aarav looked tired, Avia looked terrifying, and Sil looked surprisingly relaxed. Joseph looked concerned, but then again, that appeared to be his permanent facial expression. “We need to get out of doge. I’m assuming the safehouse is compromised. Anybody have shelter options?” Eric said, his brow furrowed in thought.

Aarav half raised his hand. “I know the owner of a pub in Woolwich. They’d probably let us crash in his spare room, o the books.” “Any other ideas?” Eric asked. The group shook their heads. Aarav was the local. “Get what stuff you can from the back of the car while I get a clean-up crew and medical unit out here. Five minutes.”

***

The pub that Aarav had suggested occupied a three-story brick building, the windows framed with gray-blue wood. The door was set back from the street, and above it a gold lettered sign advertised “Blue Oysters Pub.” In the window hung a Gilbert Baker pride flag. Bells jingled as Aarav opened the door, leading the team inside. The pub was empty. Alex was starting to question if it was even open when a person stepped out from behind the bar. Their face lit up with a smile when they made eye contact with Aarav. “Aarav! Long time no see!” they exclaimed, pulling him into a hug.

“Hi, Nyx.” Aarav said, hugging them back. “How’ve you been?” “Good, yeah. You gonna introduce me to all your saving the world friends or what?”

Aarav chuckled a little. “Everybody, this is Nyx, they/them.” Nyx gave a little wave. “This is Eric, he/him, Joseph, he/him, Avia, She/They, Teri, She/Her, and Alex, She/Her.” Aarav pointed to each member of the team as he said their names. “Nice to meet you. Take a seat, I’ll get you some menus.” Nyx said.

Aarav leaned in closer to them. “We’ll denitely eat, but is the Upstairs open for a couple of days?”

Nyx made a face, half concerned, half intrigued. “Follow me.”

Aarav turned around to his group, tilting his head to encourage them to come. They filled in line behind Nyx as they led the group to the back of the room, through a locked door, and up a twisting staircase.

“Welcome to the upstairs,” They said, placing their hand on the wall. A white glow pulsed through their fingertips, and then there was the click on something unlocking. Nyx pushed through the wall, revealing a secret room. It was moderately sized, with no windows, walls painted light blue. Their was, a couch, a table with some chairs, and two bunk beds tucked in the corner. They were well used, and they looked comfortable.“Wi-Fi code is on the table, as is the code for the alley exit.” Eric stepped forward. “Thank you for your hospitality, Nyx. How much do we owe you?”

Nyx smiled a little bit. “You’re friends of Aarav. Room’s free.”

“We’ll eat well, Nyx.” Aaron wrapped them into a hug. “Thank you.” Nyx smiled, planting a kiss on their cheek. “You're welcome.” Aarav ignored the blood rushing to his face as they left the room. Sil would never let him live this down.

Taglist: @pigeonwhumps

[blarrghe]

Haven't really been on Tumblr, haven't been promoting my stuff. Oops. Anyway, Whumptober.

The Purge of Wycome

M | Graphic Depictions of Violence | M/M | Canon-ish | ch. 5/? (Not more than ten on god) | 9,817

Summary: Taren Lavellan has been captured. The Inquisition searches for him in vain as Venatori cultists attempt to extract the secrets of the breach, rather painfully, from his marked hand.

Ch. 5 Snippet:

The Venatori fell easily. Too easily. Dorian wanted a fight. Toe to toe, round after round, firing everything he had against their demons and mages and the worst of their red lyrium-addled warriors. Instead he had The Iron Bull and Vivienne de Fer shattering warriors together like glass, Sera and Varric firing explosive shots to take out crowds of shades, Cole slipping through the lines with his daggers, and Cassandra, Blackwall, and the Commander all swiftly sweeping through the rest. Solas put up a barrier, and Dorian penned in what was left in the tunnel before them with a wall of flames. 

Finally, the twisting tunnels came to a dead end. Dorian stopped a ranting villain with a grotesque projection of red lyrium stuck through his chest from giving his sermon with a bout of walking-bomb. He only kept the barrier up to keep the gore at bay. 

The entire operation was reduced to ash in less time than it took to fix his hair in the mornings. 

Too quickly. He could have done that all day. 

But then they found him, and Dorian could do nothing

[vintage-every-day]

London: This photograph shows a queue of cars, trucks and vans outside the entrance to the Blackwall Tunnel in 1953.

[ocean-in-my-rebel-soul]

ocean ocean ocean!!! happy friday! From PWP prompts - biting to stay quiet ;))))

for @dadrunkwriting

Haven't written these two in forever, so here's a quick piece of smutty literature for Elara Lavellan/Blackwall! :D

-:-

Blackwall presses into her, thick and large and taking Elara's breath away. Her legs curl over his hips, ankles catching at the small of his back.

She mouths at his shoulder, and at a particularly rough thrust she can't help but moan, the noise echoing through the small chamber of the wine cellar.

"Shh, my lady," he croons, his voice rumbling in his chest. She can fairly feel the vibrations of his words. "The others will hear."

"Let them," she groans. He rolls his hips and she sees stars.

His arms bracket her against the canvas-covered crate. He's so strong, her Blackwall. Her Thom. She knows from experience he can lift and hold her easily, even as muscle-laden as she is. His thrusts have her sliding over the canvas, the fabric scraping her skin, and he shifts to fold his broad hands over her hips and pulls her onto his length.

She wails. Elara can't help it.

He catches her in a punishing kiss. "Quiet," he growls against her mouth.

Elara bites his bottom lip and tugs, drawing a low groan from him. She knows he likes it this way, rough and bratty, and though she can't call herself a brat she knows how to drive him wild. Her hands tunnel into his dark hair, following the thin lines of gentle silver, and pulls.

She smirks at the gasp that tears out of him. His fingers bruise her skin, marks she'll wear proudly beneath her clothes. "Quiet," she says back to him breathlessly.

It's quick, and it's dirty, and he pummels into her, his hips snapping in a brutish rhythm against her arse. Tension ratchets up like a bowstring pulling taut in her belly. Her limbs shake. Elara's close, so close, and--

Blackwall tips her hips, angles himself just a little differently, and she muffles her scream by biting the join of his neck and shoulder as she comes, stars exploding behind her eyelids. He roars and curls over her for another handful of strokes before he spills hotly into her body, the tight clench of her cunt like a vise grip. Her legs tighten around his hips, keeping him close, and she shakes, her arms twined around his neck. Elara pants damply against his throat, heart hammering in her own rabbit-fast.

"Thom," she moans softly, voice thready with exertion. Her chest heaves. Elara can't catch her breath. Blackwall's chest rises and falls like a great bellows, his breath hot on her temple. His hands gentle, and he lets go of her hips in favor of dropping onto his elbows above her, pressing her flat onto the canvas.

"Shouldn't have done that," he pants. Blackwall nudges his forehead against Elara's. "I don't regret it, but I'm sorry all the same."

"For what?"

"For--for spilling inside you."

She gives a weak chuckle. "That's why I have teas, you great bear. Besides," Elara says lowly, "I like it when you do."

Blackwall snorts. "You'll be the death of me yet."

She smiles and kisses him sweetly. "Never," she vows against his lips.

[batmonkfish80]

12 months ago subscribers to my Patreon were treated to my hard-hitting investigation into Fruit Crimes. With the ongoing fruitification of crime it is time to move it out of the paywall and let everyone know about them.

****

Fruit Crimes

Apple Assault

In 298 AD the emperor Quintillius was enjoying an orgy when an over-excited praetor threw an apple too hard, hitting the imperial head. Believing in poetic justice the emperor offered 1000 sesterces for the largest apple in the empire. When it arrived he threw it back, killing the praetor instantly.

Banana Bribery

In 1635 the Duke of Eastphalia had by careful political plotting kept his state out of what was developing into the Thirty Years War. His efforts failed when it was revealed that he had attempted to bribe Cardinal Richelieu with one million bananas, then a very fashionable fruit. Richelieu displayed the bananas as proof of the Duke’s guilt until they turned brown and he threw them away.

Raspberry Robbery

In 1963 Bernard “Greenfinger” Smith and John “Squishy” Cole, notorious gangland figures, held up a raspberry lorry on the North Circular in an armed robbery. They took the lorry, leaving the driver by the roadside. Smith was arrested at his Mum’s later that day, Cole while trying to escape through the Blackwall Tunnel. The raspberries were never recovered.

Tomato Turpitude

In 1848 Annette Jones of Cardiff bay was convicted of crimes involving the immoral uses of tomatoes and transported to Australia. Unfortunately the judge declared the evidence too lurid to be made public and ordered the court records sealed for 200 years. Look for the special edition of Fruit Crimes on 1st January 2049 for more details.

[ocelotrevs]

North towards the Blackwall Tunnel for 10 seconds. II

[wardencommanderrodimiss]

travelogue: Glenmorgan Mine, Crestwood

“Look at that,” Ena says. The cave from the Red Templar camp opens to a small glen and a misty spring - and three scaled creatures, resting in the water. “Those aren’t dragons, are they?”

She refrained from approaching the dragon they’d spotted on the Storm Coast, but Varric increasingly suspects that he - and Solas, and Blackwall, and Vivienne, and Cassandra - are fighting a battle they will inevitably lose. And then they’ll be dragging Ena out of the fire again.

“Wyverns, it looks like,” says Blackwall.

“Do they breathe fire?” Ena asks.

“No,” Blackwall says. “They spit venom.”

This warning does not faze Ena in the slightest. Varric reaches out and grabs the haft of the axe slung over her shoulders, stopping her from taking another step forward. “Don’t,” he says.

“I just want–”

“To get a closer look?” Varric asks. “You remember last time, I’m sure. Look, you like elfy things, yeah? Those statues are big enough you can get a nice look from here and then we can go.”

“Statues?” Ena asks. “What, Fen’Harel back in the clearing?” She gestures over her shoulder, back through the tunnel; a white stone statue of a wolf dominated the Red Templar camp. 

Solas clears his throat and points upward. Ena slowly lifts her head to take in, apparently for the first time, the two massive statues looming over the spring. “Those guys,” Varric says. “Halla or harts or whoever.”

“Harts,” Ena answers. “They have the antlers.” She holds her hands up to the sides of her head, fingers splayed, in imitation of the aforementioned antlers on the statues. “Most people think that halla look like deer when they first see them, but with their horns and hooves, they’re actually more like—”

She stops. She lowers her hands. She glares at Varric. “Like what?” he prompts. 

“Like wyverns,” she says dryly, and Blackwall huffs a laugh. “Look, they still haven’t even heard us. I’ll just be a moment.”

Varric thinks he could probably drag Ena away if he had Blackwall’s help, but Blackwall already has one hand on his sword and his shield slightly raised, already resigned to the inevitable. Ena creeps forward, low to the ground, and really, she’s right that the wyverns aren’t particularly attentive.

Maybe if she just wanted to sneak right back out of there, they’d be fine. But no, she has to look at them. Just crouch there in the grass in the rain and look. And it doesn’t take long for the wyverns to look back. 

-

They give Ena a few moments to satisfy her curiosity over the bodies of the beasts - open their mouths and examine their teeth, poke at their scales and claws - before they’ll have to make their way back to the matters of wardens, undead, and Red Templars. 

“Hey, Chuckles,” Varric says quietly. “You think you can maybe find some place in the Fade where you can show her some dragons without them trying to kill us?”

Solas looks at Ena, kneeling in the wet grass, blood running down her neck from a gash in her jaw. He looks at Blackwall, blood smeared across his armor and shield. He looks at the corpses of the wyverns, pincushions for Bianca’s arrows. He sighs, no doubt thinking of the Hinterlands dragon. “I suppose I should consider something of the sort.”

[bikorarey]

Blackwall and Sera have the best banter in Trespasser

Sera: Why are dwarves so short but carve their tunnels so tall?

Blackwall: They choose to show their stature in other ways. Or it's compensation.

Sera: Okay. The second obvious reason is funny you answered. You're swinging a giant sword around.

Blackwall: That's not compensation. That's a counterweight.

Blackwall: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

[daitranscripts]

What Pride had Wrought Pt. 9

Giving Chase

What Pride had Wrought Masterpost First: Speaking With Morrigan First: Meeting Kieran Previous: Temple of Mythal

The PC enters the next room and is greeted by an explosion. Samson/Calpernia stands nearby.

Samson: Hold them off! Calpernia: Don’t let them pass!

They leap into the hole they created in the temple floor, leaving the party to fight red templars/Venatori.

PC: Come on. We might catch them

The party approaches the tunnel, but Morrigan stops them and gestures towards a nearby door.

Morrigan: Hold! A moment. While they rush ahead, this leads to our true destination. We should walk the petitioner’s path, as before.

Party Comments:

Cole: People are dying outside while we stand here. If we use the tunnel, more of our soldiers can flee.

Iron Bull: You forget that army fighting for us out there? Longer we play around, the more Inquisition soldiers die. There’s a hole–jump in.

Vivienne: Lady Morrigan was wrong about Corypheus seeking an eluvian. Do we trust her now? While we dally with “rituals,” Inquisition soldiers die outside these walls. Down is swifter.

Cassandra: An army fights and dies for us. The longer we tarry, the more soldiers we lose outside. Let’s jump down and be done with this place.

Blackwall: You’ve an army dying out there, Inquisitor. We’re wasting time fiddling with this magic. If jumping down will get us out faster, we should do it.

Sera: Right. Slow down. Give the baddies a chance. That’s fair and dumb! If we’re going in, let’s get in. Jump already.

Varric: We’d have to figure it out first, right? While Inquisition soldiers die in the forest? The faster we get out of here, the more people go home.

Solas: In this case, I must agree with the witch. This is ancient ground, deserving of our respect.

Dorian: Just a thought: maybe rushing through this place like a mad bull isn’t the best plan?

Morrigan (Solas or Dorian in party): You see the urgency. We cannot find the Well of Sorrows unprepared. Morrigan (neither Solas or Dorian in party): Performing these rituals may mean the difference between reaching the Well before Corypheus’s minions and not at all!

Dialogue options:

General: Are you certain? [1]

General: You want the Well, don’t you? [2]

General: We’re here to stop Corypheus. [3]

1 - General: Are you certain? PC: We don’t know what’s behind those doors. They might have a reason for going another way. Morrigan: Had they the option, they would have proceeded. That must lead to their goal. PC: Their goal? Or yours? [4]

2 - General: You want the Well, don’t you? PC: You’re very eager to reach our destination. Morrigan: Are we not all eager to stop Corypheus from achieving his mad plan. PC: It sounds like what you want is that well. [4]

3 - General: We’re here to stop Corypheus. PC: We don’t need to reach the Well first if we stop them before they find it. Morrigan: Reach the Well before they do, and their plan is ended! PC: And your plan? [4]

4 - Scene continues.

Morrigan: There is… a danger to the natural order. Legends walked Thedas once, things of might and wonder. Their passing has left us all the lesser. Corypheus would squander the ancient power of the Well. I would have it restored.

Dialogue options:

General: You’re a romantic? [5]

General: You know nothing about it! [7]

General: Why should I trust you? [8]

5 - General: You’re a romantic? PC: I wasn’t expecting your answer to be so… romantic. Morrigan: Trust me. Your surprise is matched only by my own. [8]

6 - General: You know nothing about it! PC: You barely know what the Well of Sorrows is, but you want to restore it? Morrigan: Yes! Is Thedas so full of wonders that we should leave them to die one by one? [8]

7 - General: Why should I trust you? PC: I should take your word that this is altruism and not hunger for power? Morrigan: Ah, yes. Far easier to believe the Witch of the Wilds full of greed. [8]

8 - Scene continues:

Morrigan: Mankind blunders through the world, crushing what it does not understand: elves, dragons, magic… the list is endless. We must stem the tide or be left with nothing more than the mundane. This I know to be true. I read more in the first chamber than I revealed. It said a great boon is given to those who use the Well of Sorrows… but at a terrible price.

9 - Dialogue options:

Investigate: What’s this boon and price? [10]

General: Why not tell me this earlier? [11]

General: Of course there’s a price. [12]

General: Do you want the Well yourself? [13]

10 - Investigate: What’s this boon and price? PC: What exactly did that altar say about the Well of Sorrows? Morrigan: Like most elven writing, it was insufferably vague. The term I deciphered was “halam’shivanas”—“the sweet sacrifice of duty.” It implies the loss of something personal for duty’s sake. Yet for those who served at this temple, a worthwhile trade. [back to 9]

11 - General: Why not tell me this earlier? PC: Did you not trust me enough to tell me about this price when you read it? Morrigan: I hoped to find more information. If I intended to cheat you, I would have feigned ignorance entirely. [14]

12 - General: Of course there’s a price. PC: What sort of curse should we brace ourselves for if we use the Well? Morrigan: ‘Twould be easier by far to advise you of a curse. This price is not so well defined. [14]

13 - General: Do you want the Well yourself? PC: Is your real goal the power inside this Well? Morrigan: Yes, if that is the only way to preserve it! [14]

14 - Scene continues.

Morrigan: My priority is your cause, but if the opportunity arises to save this Well, I am willing to pay the cost.

PC: And gain what?

Morrigan: That is what we must discover. The rituals may point the way.

Next: The Ancient Crypts Next: Hall of Shrines