#I CANNAE DO EET

[inquisimer]

❛ for the first time in years, i felt something that i thought had been lost to me. ❜ please for siobhan and loghain? since i like pain

HELLO PAINNNNNN

you know I still haven't made this Decision™ but the lead up has me👀

anyway have them being.....them🥺😭 for @dadrunkwriting

~~~

Inquisition tents dotted the sand of the Western Approach, far enough from the looming shadow of Adamant to stay safe, but close enough to foreshadow the reckoning that the morning would bring.

Someone had ensured there would be ale to keep morale up. Most of the soldiers were gathered in bunches around a giant bonfire, frothing mugs in their hands and smiles notwithstanding across their faces.

The Inquisitor was off with his Commander, reviewing the plan for the umpteenth time, and his sister, ever the rogue, flitted between the troops with a flirtatious smile and sleight hand.

In the back of the camp, two shadows danced against a nondescript canvas. Siobhan maintained a soft ball of mage light, casting shadows in the weathered crevices of Loghain’s face. She stretched across his chest, both of them lying on a combined pile of bedrolls, their armor tucked neatly in the corner. She raised one hand and combed it gently through his shortened hair.

“I miss the braids,” she said softly, smirking.

“Well maybe if you hadn’t set them on fire—“

“Well maybe if you hadn’t been so frustrating—“

He silenced her with a kiss, pressing his chapped lips against hers. “You love it,” he teased.

“Mmm you wish,” she murmured against his lips. She ducked her head into his collarbone, exposed by his unlaced shirt, and sighed. When she spoke again, the humor had leaked from her voice.

“I’m sorry.” The apology was heavy with implications. Loghain’s arms around her middle tightened instinctively and he frowned.

“For what?”

She gestured aimlessly about the space. “For….this. For bringing you here. Of all places to drag you into risk, the ass end of Orlais? I think you deserve at least one apology.”

“I think your memory is faltering.” Loghain raised a brow, eyes and hands loose with the hint of whiskey they’d snagged earlier. He tucked a stray hair behind her ear and carried the motion down to cup her jaw. “You didn’t drag me anywhere, Siobhan. I followed. And I would do it again.”

Siobhan huffed, her eyes cast aside. It might have been a joke, but Loghain’s frown deepened. He read the tension in her shoulders and the ire that flowed around her like a second skin.

He sat them both up. She straddled his lap, arms looped around his neck, and she still wasn’t looking at him.

“Siobhan.”

Her lips pursed and her gaze remained focused on a particularly dull corner of their tent.

“Siobhan.”

He hooked his fingers under her chin and pulled it down sharply. Finally, instinct snapped her cracked marble eyes to his storm weary ones.

“Fuck,” she hissed, jerking back. Her hands fisted against the back of his neck.

“Look at me,” he insisted, hand gripping her chin. “I would do it again.”

“You shouldn’t have to!” She reasserted herself, pressing them against the ground. Her palms went flat, flexing against the bedroll beneath them. “That thing should have died in the Vinmarks! And even though he didn’t—you shouldn’t be here—you wouldn’t be here if—“

“If I’d never met you?” he preempted her protest. His eyes darkened. “Would I even be here, in the broader sense?”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t suggest that I would have been better served without you.” His gruff voice sliced severely through layers of cynicism and guilt. Siobhan glared down at him. He could practically see the sparks and smoke from her mind at work.

“I was” —his tongue darted out, uncertain and searching against his lips— “directionless. Orders are easy to follow, but a man needs something worth following to make the effort worth the time.”

“I spent years, aimless, killing darkspawn and wandering, no end in sight. Then Stroud dragged me to the Deep Roads and I dragged your meddlesome brother out.” He wasn’t one for speeches and the extensive words wore on him. But there was still a furrow in her brow, doubt in the creases of her lips, the corners of her eyes. That would not do.

“And Carver dragged me to Kirkwall, in the end.” His hands found the back of her head, traced the contours of her braid, and pressed her forehead down to his. “And to you. For the first time in years—years—I felt something I thought had been lost to me.”

Images of an insistent, but patient cabinet maker, tenacious and wise and incomparable in all ways flashed across his mind. He had cast away that gift, with little thought for what he was abandoning. Never again.

“Do not suggest you have given anything to me but grace,” he said sharply. “Grace—and more than that, when others never would.”

“What I have done—whatever good I rendered or peace I wrought—what does it matter?” Her voice cracked and she broke his gaze with closed eyes. He imagined that if he were a mage, he might feel the Veil bend with the force of her regret.

“Is a single life worth less because it was saved alone?” he asked softly.

“And what of the lives I could have saved? Kirkwall aside—the ones who would have lived if Carver and I stayed the hell away from the Vinmarks?”

“Those lives were never on your conscience.”

“Weren’t they?”

“Corypheus would put the onus for his actions on your shoulders. But you did nothing other than grant him freedom. Anyone who suggests you could control his actions thereafter is a fool.”

He drew her closer, just a whisper between their breaths. “And we do not parley with fools, my love.”

Her fingers threaded together at the back of his neck and she closed the space, a fierce, desperate kiss between them. Her uncertainty coated his tongue like iron and he met it with reassurance, a steady and comforting presence, as he’d served for years now. His hands found the small of her back and he stroked up her spine, soft and grounding.

Somewhere in the back of his mind was anger—at the Inquisitor, the Maker, the world, for rendering such a circumstance where she would doubt herself. She, who had given all there was to give for causes she never meant to take up.

She started to pull back and he tightened his grip, renewing their embrace.

What they faced tomorrow was unknown. But he did not have to their foe to know that she would come out on the other side, perhaps not whole, but strengthened, stronger. She had always been thus, and he would not see her change.

Even at the cost of his last breath.

[inscmnus]

LISTEN :    I’m a potato. That’s it.   I’m pretty much one of those people who are unlikely to approach first  --  I may go to , but as stated on another blog I have   ( I’m a custard )   when it comes to approaching people in practically any form.   Please don’t take this as a disinterest in writing with you , plotting with you or talking to you because it’s honestly not.   My ridiculous potato brain blares alarms at me telling me to not bug the people.                       In short :: Kay is potato.

[annalisehartmann-blog]

Accents on an Away Mission

Summary : My first fic posted on here, and posted anywhere in a while. it’s based on a funny comedy sketch on voice recognition technology with accents, and of course our very own “wictor wictor two” scene! 

Beta : None as its just been quickly done and its for fun!

Special thanks : to you all really! 

Swearing : There is some, yes.

A note : This is my first fic on here, and its meant to be funny and lighthearted and a bit silly. I know its not really star trekky or anything but its just meant to be fun! I hope you like it, or at least dont hate it! 

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Commander Spock looked at the three of you as you stood in the transporter room, getting ready for this away mission.

You hadn’t been on an away mission with enterprise crew members since your transfer onto the ship a few weeks ago, and Spock, who had been a bit of a mentor to you, decided that this would be the perfect opportunity to go and explore on a planet with the others, the others being Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott, and Ensign Pavel Chekov, two of the nicest men you had ever met in your career.

“Are you ready?” Spock asked your group, his face as serious and straight-laced as ever.

“aye” Scotty replied. “Yes Sir!” Chekov’s voice was keen.  “why-aye man, I canna wait like!” The entire room fell silent and stared at you. You blushed red. That bloody accent, that bloody Geordie accent. You were proud of it, but you’d spent years toning it down so people understood you. Now, in front of new crew members and superiors, you reverted back to your Newcastle accent. “I mean, yes sir!” You said, trying hard to remember the elocution lessons you’d been sent on. Spock nodded to the transporter operator and cocked his head to the side as he looked at you. Your eyes were closed and you were muttering to yourself “How now brown cow. How now brown cow. How now….”.

Before you could finish, there was a warm light around the three of you, and you disappeared from the transporter room. Spock, with his head still cocked to the side, simply stared ahead and said “Fascinating”.

--

As the three of you landed with a bump, you stared at the purple planet before you. The stones were a deep purple, the grass seemed to be a pale lemon colour and the sky was a burnt orange. “Zis is beautiful, no?” Chekov asked you. “Aye man, it’s a bonny planet for sure like” you said as you wandered off to look at a bright neon orange plant. “Vat eez boo-nee” Chekov asked, but he got no reply as you were already taking samples.

“Come on guys, lets get the data the cap’n wants then we’ll be home in time for tea” Scotty said. As the most senior member of the team, he was taking charge of your mission. You didn’t mind that, in fact you liked how his seniority made you feel safe.

 After a few hours of picking plants, getting readings of the energy and you heard Scotty call for you. “Are we ready to go home then lads and lassies?” You and Chekov walked over to where he was standing and the three of you prepared to beam up.

“Enterprise, come in Enterprise” Scotty said into his communicator.

The communicator beeped and replied. “Please state your requirements” the ladies voice spoke.

“Vat eez this?” Chekov asked, his face quizzical. “Aye its that new voice recognition that they added to the equipment. It’s meant to save us time” Scotty said. He cleared his throat and spoke again. “Enterprise three to beam up”

“Please state your requirements”

“ENTER-PRISE THRRREEE TO BEAAM UP” Scotty repeated, his accent becoming thicker.

“Please state your requirements” “Ach, in the name of…..” Scotty tried not to lose his temper. He exhaled and spoke slowly. “Enterrrprise. THREEEEE TO BEAM UP!” “THREEEEE TO BEAM UP” “you’re just saying it the same way!” you cry at Scotty.

“Please state your requirements”.

“Occccc bloody thing, here, you try lassie” Scotty said and threw the device at you. You grabbed it, cleared your throat and spoke into it. “hello, enterprise man, come in, we’re trynah get home!”

“Please state your requirements”.

“Howa man, come in Enterprise, whats ganin on here like?” your voice was high pitched, you were getting as irritated as the scotsman. “It’s neet graftin that like!” you shouted and tossed the communicator to Chekov.

“Eeets vat?” he asked you. “its neet graftin, its broken!” you said getting exasperated. “I vill try, it was invented in Russia you know, voice recognition!” he took the communicator in his hand, cleared his throat and spoke into it. “Enterpwise, vree to beem up!”

“Please state your requirements”.

“Howay man we’re ganin be here forever!” you shouted, grabbing the communicator from Chekov. Scotty came over and took the device from your hand. “Look it can’t be that hard, can it lass?” he said. Clearing his throat, Scotty shrugged his shoulders a few times and spoke into the communicator in a posh English voice. “Hello, kind Enterprise, would be awfully able to get us home please before we die on his fucking godforsaken bastarding purple fuckin’ planet, away to Christ, just let us go hame!!” Scotty’s Scottish accent was thick and heavy as he shouted into the communicator.

There was silence. You went to speak and Scotty put his index finger up to sssh you. Chekov whispered. “eez et broke?” You shrugged and mouthed “I don’t know”. Silence.

“Beeeep”

The three of looked at each other.

“Please remain calm and state your requirements”.

“Calm? Calm? Is that thing telling me to remain calm?!” Scotty’s face was as red as a beetroot with anger. “Don’t tell me to remain calm lass, I bloody programed you!” his voice was loud as he shouted into the commincaor. “THREE TO BEAM UP. TO BEAM UP. THR-EEEEE T-OOO BEEEE-AM UPPPP!”

“If you would like to return to the Enterprise please say yes”

“AYE!” the three of you replied in unison.

“Please remain calm”.

You stared at the communicator. Grabbing it, you exhale a few times, and open it, staring into it. “Listen tuh wor. ah want tuh gan hyem, ahm hungry, ahm starvation an' ahm stuck on this planet see please just let wor contact the ship. If ya don’ stap this like, I’m ganin greet man, I swear I’ll greet!”.

Chekov goes over to Scotty “let me up” he says, standing up on Scotty’s shoulders. “Eeef we wabe it above high, maybe eet vil sense us”.

Scotty looks at him like he’s lost the plot but at this point hes ready to try anything. “up ye get lad!” he said. Chekov stands on Scotty’s shoulders as he waves the communicator around in the air, both of them shouting “hello! Hello!” up at the bright orange sky.

You stand up on a rock, waving your arms. Suddenly there is a beep. The commincator beeps and there is a voice “Spock here, away party come in”

“Aaawyyyyy hello” “aaaaye helloo spock come on!” “eeez us heelllo” The three of you shout at the same time.

“Away party do you copy. Please speak slowly and clearly”

Scotty sssh’s everyone, with Chekov still siting on his shoulders, he creeps over to you and the three of you stare at the communicator, not one of you daring to speak.

Scotty nods at you. “How now brown cow. How noooow brrrooown cow!” You say. The communicator beeps at you.

“Please state your requirements”

The three of you lose the plot. You start screaming into the communicator, “how way man, Geordie for life! Toon army, toon army, toon army!” Scotty picks up the communicator and throws it away. “For FREEEEDOM! SCOTLAND! SCOTLAND! ENTERPRISE!!” Chekov is hollering like a native American on Scotty’s shoulders and he runs around, shouting at the communicator.

Not one of you notice the white lights surrounding you, as you suddenly find yourselves back on the enterprise, you dancing on the spot shouting “toon army” and Chekov and Scotty dancing around hollering and shouting “freedom”.

The three of you stop in the spot as you notice Commander Spock and Captain Kirk staring at you.

“Good mission?” the Captain asks with a quizzical look.

“Yes Sir”

“Aye Sir”

“Yees Sir!”

Spock simply looks at you with his cocked to the side. “Fascinating”.

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