#Niamh Cullen

[greypetrel]

Solas Claus is coming to town. 🎶

Yes Aisling maybe telling your child that the Dread Wolf brings gifts to good children wasn't your best idea ever. Particularly if said wolf actually shows up.

"Just a quick sketch" of the peaceful, absolutely relaxing First Day eve these two had. Related fic linked!

[shannaraisles]

No More - for @megasaurusssss

A piece for @megasaurusssss, who has also been an absolute delight with the patience of a literal saint. It was fun to dip my toes back into Dragon Age, and Chris was such a joy to write. Thank you so much!

No More

“I would have preferred to remain with the rest of the men.”

Chris couldn’t help the sting that snapped through him at the sound of Cullen’s quiet complaint. Surely it wasn’t so bad to be left alone with him, was it? All right, so they were not exactly on an even keel in terms of their relationship after everything that had happened, but even so ... would the commander rather have ordered someone else to keep watch over the declared most precious asset the Inquisition had than stay another minute in proximity?

“I ...” He paused, taking a moment to scan the sentence before he said it aloud, seeking out anything that might further upset his companion. “I can try to go faster, we ... we could catch up sooner if we don’t stop so much.”

Cullen cast him a sharp glance, taking in the heavy splint that guarded a badly broken leg and the fresh scar decorating his face. 

“You can barely walk, let alone quickly, Christopher,” he said, his tone gruff but, for a split second, his eyes were kind. “We will make our own way. Unless you believe me incapable of protecting you on a two day journey to the main camp?”

And there was the sharpness again, that prickly coat that wrapped so tightly around the commander’s heart and mind in defense against anything and anyone that might even suggest a sense of closeness he was not prepared to risk. It brought back the sting of his initial words, confusing the softness of affection with the sandpaper roughness of defensive fear. There was more than just that hostility there, he was certain of it. In fact, he knew now that hostility was not even directed personally toward him - it was born of an old fear, past trauma, and wielded like a weapon against anyone who so much as brushed up against any similarity to those that had inflicted that trauma in years gone by.

But behind the hostility, Chris had seen softness. It was there in the care Cullen showed for his soldiers’ wellbeing. It was there in the scrupulous attention to detail that had fortified and armed Skyhold within a few weeks of their arrival. It was there in the meticulous concentration on every task or problem, narrowing with laser focus until the commander found the solution that would cost the least lives on either side. It was even there with his worried oversight of the mages - overbearing, yes, but it was born more of fear of who might be harmed than of what could happen. 

“Why are you so far away?”

The question seemed to come from nowhere, rising from Chris’ chest, blurted from between frozen lips, ears barely believing what they had just heard that familiar voice say. Cullen’s head jerked up, his whiskey-warm eyes snapping to meet Chris’ gaze, wet with icy shock at the question. They both knew it had nothing to do with his physical distance. 

“You know why.”

The words were cold, but the heat was there, barely hidden beneath the surface. But was it heat from anger, or something else? Was he denying his fear, or denying his desire? Chris didn’t know. Cullen could be hard to read at the best of times, and this clearly was not the best of his times. 

“No. No, I really don’t.” Chris held up a hand, preventing his companion from interrupting with snatched, thoughtless words. “You say I’m different. You ... you treat me, treat me as though I am sometimes your friend and sometimes your lover, and sometimes I-I’m  ... sometimes it feels like I’m not even me to you. Sometimes I think you look at me, and you’re looking at someone I’ve never even met.”

Guilt, fear, a moment of frenzied fear ... all these flickered across those warm, cold eyes as Cullen let him speak. However much the commander may have wanted to shut his ears against these words, he had never done Chris the disservice of not hearing him. Not listening sometimes, certainly, but he always heard.

“I don’t know what you are looking for, Christopher,” he answered, stiff and brittle in the face of emotions rising that were unaccustomed and terrifying. “You are ... dear to me. I care for you, as far as I can. But I am more broken than you know.”

“So am I!” Frustration painted the outburst as Chris flared in the face of that outright denial. “So is everyone! You are not the only broken person in this world, Cullen! But you-you are ...” He swallowed against the choking lump in his throat, wondering why his words kept trying to dry up before they could be released. “You are the only one I know who refuses to believe he can even begin to mend.”

The ice seemed to thicken over Cullen’s eyes, the leather of his gloves creaking as he flexed and clenched his fingers.

“You do not know what you are speaking of,” he said, and in his tone, his posture, in every facet of his being was a warning. The beast within was riled, and who knew what it might do if he lost control for even a moment? “The things I have done, that I have allowed to be done ... that I have experienced ... don’t spout your nonsense to one who has lived through more than you should ever be in a position to even see.”

“You are not special,” Chris snapped back at him, more hurt than angry, more roused than riled by the heat lurking beneath the ice in Cullen’s eyes. “Well, you’re special to me, but not because of what you’ve suffered. It’s not a competition to see who’s had it worse.”

A low snarl erupted from the commander, and in a flurry of movement, suddenly Chris found himself flat on his back, one of Cullen’s hands gently cradling the back of his head, the other gripping his hip with possessive demand. Nose to nose, he could taste the commander’s breath on the air between them, his focus narrowing to the scarred lips hovering so very close to his own. 

“I would not say such things if I were you,” the former Templar warned, his breath hot against Chris’ lips. 

“Stop me, then.”

Where that challenge had come from, Chris could not have said, but barely a moment later, he did not care. Cullen’s mouth crashed into his own in a punishing, devouring kiss that was more teeth than lips, more passion than care, and more wonderful than the rushed desperation they had shared at Adamant. Chris gave as good as he got, nipping, licking, tasting, hands grasping and groping, tugging at hair, clothing, hating the breastplate that kept him from feeling the full heat and hardness of the commander flush against his form. Even the sharp lurch of pain from his splinted leg wasn’t even to make him pull away, even as he hissed in pain, filling that kiss with his own breath. But the sound of pain was enough to rouse Cullen from his passion, concern clouding that ardor in his eyes as he began to pull back.

“Your leg -”

“Forget it.”

Chris’ grip tightened in the soft fur of Cullen’s mantle, dragging him back into that needful kiss, unable to say what he needed to say, only daring to hope that this closed off, imperfect, wonderful man could somehow understand those unspoken words if he was shown in a different way. The commander groaned, and somehow that kiss softened, wordless surrender to a feeling he did not truly wish to fight any longer but did not know what to do with. Hands gentled, the snarling faded, and soon the small clearing was filled with the sounds of passion kindled at last away from the gossiping eyes of the Inquisition. 

It was awkward, what with the broken leg and the half-plate armour, but even that awkwardness was a release of some of that tension, unexpected laughter burbling between the two men as they fumbled to be rid of the cold metal, to adjust until Chris was no longer in danger of undoing the good work done in splinting his leg just for the sake of their shared desire. And even in the midst of that simmering heat, they retained enough sense not to disrobe fully ... Cullen was not a man to lose his senses so wholly as to be both naked and distracted while on the road. 

Finally there he was, hisplate and gambeson discarded, the mantle rumpled beneath them, his rust-stained undershirt hanging open to reveal the paler skin of his chest ... not quite as ripped as barracks gossip declared him to be, but no less a feast for the eyes for the suggestion of softness. Indeed, Chris was almost glad to see that softness; he knew Cullen as a man who drove himself hard, to the point of self-denial and even, perhaps, self-harm at times. But perhaps he wasn’t quite as hard on himself these days he once had been. He was certainly self-conscious, rose painting his cheeks as he panted, casting his eyes away from Chris’ earnestly admiring gaze in shy uncertainty.

“Christopher, I ...” He blew out a harsh breath, his hands trembling where they lay against Chris’ arms. “This is farther than I ... than I have ever ...”

Chris reached up, gently smoothing his fingers over those deliciously scarred lips to still the emerging burble of cautious fear. 

“Do you want to?” he whispered, curling his palm to the other man’s cheek, drawing Cullen’s whiskey-bright eyes back to his own. He needed to see the consent, as well as hear it. They both did. “I, I know I do, but ... but you have to want it too.”

“Maker’s breath ...” The curse was barely a ghost of a breath between them, a slow, longing shudder rippling through Cullen’s tense frame as he propped himself over Chris in the soft, mossy grass. “I do, I ... I do not know what, or how, or -”

His words faded, strangled in a rushing groan of fever-filled lust as Chris’ hand slipped between them to cup the straining leather of his lover’s britches. The whiskey-warmth flared to burning ardor, head dipping down to demand the kiss that was so willingly given even as Cullen now found himself rolled to his back. Chris smirked against his lips, finally in a position where he knew what he was doing more than the commander could bluff himself through it. 

“Just relax, if you can,” he murmured, trailing kisses over the blunt line of Cullen’s jaw, dragging his teeth briefly against the scratch of stubble as he let his clever fingers figure out the lacing at the commander’s waist and gain entry to the hidden jewels within. 

His reward was a swallowed cry of pure, startled lust, an almost violent bucking of Cullen’s hips, and the sight of the always cool and mostly collected Commander Rutherford writhing on the rumpled folds of his own mantle, fingers digging deep into the mossy ground beneath them as his teeth bit down just shy of drawing blood in an attempt to hold back the sounds of his visceral pleasure. 

“Easy,” Chris murmured, unable to hold back his laugh at Cullen’s unintelligible response. 

The commander sounded somehow both eager and embarrassed, and oh, so ready for him to continue, finding his words only after several moments of slow, tender touches that seemed designed to reduce every bone in his body to quivering jelly. 

“I ... what about ... what about you ...”

Chris couldn’t help his satisfied grin, lips curving against the stiff line of Cullen’s throat, tasting the dampening salt-sweat of the man’s skin as he trembled in the grip of his passion. His busy hand abandoned Cullen’s cock for just long enough to wet his palm before returning, the new lack of friction somehow setting his commander to greedier trembling under his practised fingers. 

“Don’t worry about me,” he murmured, letting out a gasp of his own as Cullen’s fingers gripped his hair, dragging his mouth back for a fresh onslaught of hungry kisses. 

He’d take care of himself later, if he had to. Right now, the commander needed this release so much more than he did and, if he were truly honest with himself, leaving Cullen in his debt might give the man more motivation to see this through to the end, rather than try to pretend there was nothing left between them once this night was done. He needed Cullen to surrender to this, to accept it and even embrace it, if he could. They both deserved more than the harsh recriminations this war was forcing between them thanks to magic and its misusers. 

So Chris dedicated himself to Cullen for these too-short moments. He stroked and teased, palmed and played, urged, toyed, guided ... he gave as much as he could, learned as much as Cullen would let him, until the commander burst through his fears and worries and uncertainties to lie panting and spent in his arms, eyes whirling with as much tenderness as shock that this kind of intimacy was possible for him.

How long they lay together, he couldn’t have said, revelling in the soft silence between them, in the play of Cullen’s sweaty fingers through his hair and the sound of the man’s heartbeat slowing beneath his ear. This moment of freedom for them would not kast too much longer; too soon, the commander would return to full strength and regain his composure along with his pants and armour. But for now, in this moment, it was enough to listen to his breathing and know he had given into the heat between them. To hope that it would be the first time, and not the last. 

“I should not have allowed that,” Cullen said, his voice a mere murmur beneath the soft night breeze. “To leave us both so vulnerable ... it was a foolish whim.”

Chris raised his head, looking down at the dishevelled man in his arms in hurt disbelief. 

“Foolish?” he repeated, almost daring Cullen to clarify himself. 

The commander’s scarred lip pulled taut for the briefest of smiles, amusement flickering in his warm eyes. He drew his knuckles against Chris’ cheek, a kiss of skin to skin, before moving to set himself to rights. Chris sat up, watching him clean himself, lace his shirt, pull the gambeson back over his head, his own brow furrowed in a deep frown, uncertain quite what to say in the face of those words. 

Cullen paused under the weight of that gaze, raising a brow in curiosity at the expression on the other man’s face.

“Christopher.” He reached out, rubbing a gloved thumb between Chris’ brows to smooth out that frown. “I’m not so much a fool as to say never again. But to take such a risk with your life and mine?.”

He bent, daring to brush a hesitant kiss to Chris’ upturned mouth before drawing back swiftly to buckle his armour. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing, and I will not be much good at it,” he said, shrugging to settle the plate more comfortably before reaching for his mantle. “I daresay I will cause more harm with thoughtless words in the weeks and months to come. But ...” His expression gentled, that tenderness reemerging for Chris’ eyes only. “I believe I am done running from it. No more cowardice. No more running.”

The relief was a palpable flare in Chris’ chest. Cullen never said anything he would not hold to, never promised anything he felt incapable of delivering. If he was saying this, then ... there would be no more running. No more cowardice. No more lashing out with the intention of causing pain. And Chris could try to be more understanding of his reactions, if it meant that no more became a daily occurrence. If it meant that no more might become forever. He’d thought he had forever once, and lost it far before he could ever have been ready to be without it. So perhaps this was enough, for now. For Cullen, he could live with no more.

[brian-in-finance]

Twitter

KIN and Lies We Tell lead Irish Film and Television Academy Award nominations

Charlie Cox and Clare Dunne in KIN

RTÉ crime drama KIN and psychological thriller Lies We Tell lead this year's IFTA nominations.

The Irish Film and Television Academy Awards will take place on Saturday 20 April with winners being announced across 28 different categories celebrating the best of Irish film and TV drama. The Awards will be hosted for the first time by Emmy-winning broadcaster Baz Ashmawy.

RTÉ's KIN, which follows the notorious Kinsella family, has received 11 drama nominations including Best Drama, as well as Lead Actor for Francis Magee and Sam Keeley, and Lead Actress for Clare Dunne.

Michael Smiley plays a father on the edge in Obituary

Magee and Keeley are up against some strong competition with Michael Smiley (Obituary), Éanna Hardwicke (The Sixth Commandment) Daryl McCormack (The Woman in the Wall) also nominated. While Dunne competes with Sharon Horgan (Best Interests), Niamh Algar (Malpractice), Elva Trill (Northern Lights), Siobhán Cullen (Obituary) and Caitríona Balfe (Outlander).

The Best Drama category showcases a wealth of homegrown talent with Blue Lights, Hidden Assets, Northern Lights, Obituary and The Woman in the Wall also vying for the coveted award.

Agnes O'Casey stars in Lies We Tell

Over in the film categories Lisa Mulcahy’s gothic Irish tale, Lies We Tell, has received a whopping 13 nominations including Best Film, Lead Actor for David Wilmot, Lead Actress for Agnes O’Casey and Best Director for Mulcahy.

It will be a hotly contested battle for the Lead Actor award with Cillian Murphy (Oppenheimer), Andrew Scott (All Of Us Strangers), Barry Keoghan (Saltburn), Barry Ward (That We May Face The Rising Sun) and Pierce Brosnan (The Last Rifleman) also in the running.

Jessie Buckey stars in the romantic drama movie Fingernails

The same goes for the Lead Actress category which sees O'Casey compete with Jessie Buckley (Fingernails), Eve Hewson (Flora and Son), Saoirse Ronan (Foe), Bríd Brennan (My Sailor, My Love) and Geraldine McAlinden (Verdigris).

Also nominated for Best Film are pharmaceutical horror-thriller Double Blind, John Carney's Flora and Son, quirky sci-fi fable LOLA, John McGahern's That They May Face The Rising Sun and Patricia Kelly's debut feature film, Verdigris.

Stephen Rea will be honoured with the Lifetime Achievement Award at this year's ceremony. The award will be presented to the Oscar-nominated actor for his outstanding contribution to the Irish and international screen industry over a career that has spanned five decades.

Responding to the Lifetime Achievement Award announcement, Rea said: "So much of Irish culture has been recovered and reimagined. Music, language, literature, theatre.

Stephen Rea will receive the Lifetime Achievement Award

"And cinema can be added to that list because of the special energy of John Boorman who produced Neil Jordan's first film Angel. And to my astonishment, my first film too. Neil thrust the script and a saxophone into my hands and suddenly I was in the movies. Well, one really original movie, which was at the beginning of a new confidence in Irish cinema.

"And now many films later, IFTA have, equally surprisingly, offered me a Lifetime Achievement Award. A lifetime of collaboration with the most generous and creative artists you could ever work with. And hang out with. Thanks to all of them. Thank you IFTA."

RTÉ 🎧 Radio News Cip and Full List of Nominations

Remember her 10th IFTA Nomination? ☘️

[cityandking]

oh u KNOW i gotta know more about hypothetical papa daichi. 1, 5, 10 for dai, vesper and bran <3

fjfjfjlskdf thanks for indulging me // kids/babies questions

1. How many kids do they want? Do they have kids already?

DAI — technically(?) there's The Godling which is the baby god the party helped like. create? wake up? bring into existence? (dai is reticent to admit it but he definitely feels like the godling is Their Baby). he didn't even realize he wanted kids until the godling happened, but he thinks he'd be fine with one (he needs a gateway baby but my god he'd be such a good dad)

VESPER — vesp assumed she'd never have kids given the whole Circle thing, so she never bothered to want any. but she came from a big family (and so did cullen) and once they had one they knew they'd want another one. the twins were a bit of a surprise but she's happy with three

BRAN — bran never wanted kids and gawain was a massive surprise

5. How did they decorate their baby room?

DAI — dai's the kind of person who would consult all the baby literature, talk to zaref and his dad(s), and then just do whatever he wanted anyway. probably murals of the sun and the sky and mountains. bassinet, rocking chair, mobile. I like to imagine him and zaref sitting on the ground despairing over ikea instructions. it brings them closer than any god or void ever did.

VESPER — vesper had almost no say in the kids' rooms. for niamh her family (mostly helene) swooped in and took care of everything, and when she had the twins she was already back in her childhood home and the nursery was already set up. she's honestly fine with that; she does more than enough already and is perfectly happy not to bother with decorating a baby's room.

BRAN — it was allllllll ocean themed. gawain knew what the water was before he knew how to walk. (luckrunner verse it's just her cabin. catch the captain on deck barefoot with a baby bjorn)

10. What type of personalities do their kid(s) have?

DAI — I don't have any Dai Baby Specifics(TM) in mind but I think any child of his would be both severely solemn and kind of a bitch. like that kid (those kids?) would be so intense and earnest and have no filter. musa's legacy. rip dairef (I think zaref would find it hilarious. dai's outwardly disapproving but inwardly amused)

VESPER — the three stubbornest children know to man or maker. between her and cullen they are tiny little powerhouses of Opinion and Bullheadedness. her siblings who are parents both laugh and tell her she's earned this. (niamh gets vesper's temper and both of their ideas of right and wrong and she is fiercely opinionated and determined to prove herself. she has their anxiety too, but she's more charismatic than either of her parents. the twins are a little more chill and solemn. at least one of them is a mage, and they do that creepy twin awareness shit.)

BRAN — gawain is a mini-bran—just as stubborn, just as hopeful, just as larger than life. it's a little exhausting but bran loves him more than words or sense and is so so so proud of him at every turn

[fooltofancy]

Who did each of your dragon age protags romance?

pile of protags lord in heaven but without any commentary whatsoever because it's all embarrassing:

dao -

niamh surana - alistair

essa tabris - alistair

da2

uh there's just a hawke for every romance and i'm like. deeply attached to the basicass default hawke designs lmao so there wasn't really much difference between them, characterwise. shallow pool of garrett/marians for all occasions.

dai

sehren lavellan - cullen, blackwall

sparrow adaar - josie

aevan trevelyan - dorian

[formulalex]

Women of the F1 Paddock

Although underrepresented there are so many amazing women in the paddock. They all are inspirational in their own way, and all have an important story to tell. So today, I’m highlighting just some of the incredible women leading the way.

Angela Cullen

Lewis Hamilton’s physio and right—hand woman since 2016, Angela Cullen is a powerhouse. Lewis has even described her as his chauffeur and confidante. 

Carolyn Paterson

Beginning her career at BMW UK as a marketing communications assistant, Carolyn is now a Press Officer at Scuderia Alpha Tauri. 

From PR schedules and briefings to writing editorials, Carolyn has a multifaceted job…and is damn good at it too! You might’ve even seen her around the paddock with Yuki Tsunoda as she also works closely with the drivers. 

Niamh Sidwell

 Niamh is a Production Coordinator at Formula 1 and has been working in F1 for almost three years!

Her role is to provide logistical and coordination support to the Creative Media team. She is almost like a director and makes sure everything runs as smooth as possible.

At the Singapore Grand Prix earlier this year she even had the opportunity to be a Assistant Producer for Track TV!

Abi Crawforth

Abi began her career in motorsport with Williams Racing as a Mechanical Engineering Apprentice in 2015, and since then she has been doing some amazing things. Now she works at Red Bull as a CNC Machinist, where she's responsible for properly configuring and setting up machinery tools according to the specifications of technical drawings in order to make car parts!

Marie-Thérèse Helayel

Marie-Thérèse is a recent graduate, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t reached amazing heights in her career already. Currently she is a Power Unit Engineer at Red Bull!

Lauren Merchant 

 The driver’s team kits are a vital part of Formula 1 and Lauren is responsible for coordinating everything team kit related at Aston Martin.

Lauren takes care of the distribution and fulfillment of all team clothing, from race wear to office wear options.

She's been with the team since January this year, with her role being a completely new one!

Sarah Fasey

You will usually find Sarah buried in her work phone on race weekends as she fulfils her role as Red Bull’s social media producer.

Sarah graduated from University of Leeds with a BA in Fashion Marketing and worked for Nike for two years as a Marketing Assistant and Digital Designer before joining Red Bull Racing & Red Bull Technology in August 2020. 

Susie Wolff

Where do I start with Susie Wolff. She is a powerhouse and a history maker in the motorsport world.

Susie started off her racing career in karting before moving on to Formula Renault and Formula Three, then moving to DTM to compete for Mercedes-Benz. 

In 2012, she was signed by Williams as a development driver and in 2014 Susie became the first woman since 1992 to compete in a Formula 1 race weekend. After her racing retirement she went on to work at Venturi Racing (Formula E) as Team Principal and then CEO. 

So now you know there are some amazing women in the paddock, doing a myriad of different jobs, and there is always a spot for you! So be brave, be bold and go chase your dream!

[sharp-teeth-and-archived]

intothewildsea asked : (where our hands touch): our muses hands touch accidentally causing them to pause mid conversation. (cullen or varric...i couldn't decide LOL)

ROYAL ROMANCE AND SPICE PART TWO. / @intothewildsea -- selectively accepting

        𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐅𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞. He had Templar training to hone his skills as a leader in a fight, but the Chantry wasn’t eager to offer training on how to be a good husband. Templars were sworn to their service, though there were no rules against pursuing a relationship (as long as it wasn’t with a mage). In a way, Cullen was married to his service. He had toyed with the idea of marriage, but he was always busy with his responsibilities to deepen any relationship to a romantic level. It was work, work, work until that work made him believe he was tainted, unloveable in a twisted way. He had made choices he regrets, but he was going to change the ways that twisted him to a horrible degree.

        Yet, it was scary for him to imagine that in the middle of his redemption, he was pursuing a marriage. He hadn’t come to terms with that yet.

        Cullen had tried to create chemistry from an awkward tension. Niamh was easy to trust, but there was so much she had to learn from him that he was slowly unwrapping himself ribbon by ribbon. Taking the slow route, he assumed, and building a relationship from its groundwork would prove favorably for himself and the Inquisition.

        The wind rolling through Skyhold had ruffled Niamh’s blonde curls, but he didn’t mind as he stood before her, a large sword lying across his hands. It was the sword straight from his side, the one he nervously fidgeted with when they were in close quarters.

        ❝ This sword has kept me company from my Templar days, ❞ he explained, staring down at the sun-shined metal. The metal was clean as if it was newly made, but the various cracks and scratches along its surface showed its age. Cullen hadn’t managed to smooth it out, but he figured he truly didn’t want to. In some way, his sword was an extension of himself and everything he had gone through.

        Niamh leaned forward, Cullen hadn’t noticed. He reached ahead to rub a gloved thumb over one of the nicks in the metal, only to brush his finger along the knuckle of Niamh’s finger. His breath hitched and he stood up straight, darting his hand away with a nervous cough caught in his throat.

        ❝ Uh… ❞ He felt like a schoolboy, mumbling to himself after the brief contact. He felt a jolt of electricity run through his system when they touched, but all of the emotion in his body was nerves, anxiety, and fear. Fear of overstepping, of taking this relationship quicker than they were ready for. ❝ My apologies, ❞ he finally supplied, looking down at the grass next to them. ❝ The sword is showing its age, but it’s reliable all the same. ❞

[notsoterriblymisanthropic]

From Bristol ABC:

Niamh is in prison as a result of using self defence against police violence at only 19 years of age. She is a gentle soul, with much love and appreciation to give!

Niamh welcomes letters of love and support to make the days go by easier and quicker.

Write to: Niamh Cullen A2966EX, HMP Downview, Sutton Lane, Sutton, SM2 5PD

[morganaseren]

Hi! What do you think would happen if, in an au where the conclave didn't explode, Niamh was found because the new Inquisition wanted her to join it's ranks? Leliana and the others agree that she is a good choice for whatever role they need of her, maybe a commander to replace Cullen or something like that, and thus people are sent out to dig into rumors of her whereabouts.

She's ultimately found completely by accident at some point.

Oh, wow, y'all are curious today, aren't you? 😂 Well, let's see what I can think up for this!

If the explosion never happens with the Conclave, then that means Divine Justinia is still alive. Given she was originally meant to be Corypheus' sacrifice in order for him to obtain the Anchor, that also means he likely still has the Orb of Destruction in his possession. Following along that line of thought, he could attempt to go after Justinia again, which would certainly warrant getting more protection in the form of a certain Elementalist. 😏 ("A monster capable of our world’s destruction beckons us at our gates, so…” She idly flexed her hand, conjuring lightning which interweaved itself between her fingers. “…better to let another monster of equal caliber face it.” - Niamh, chapter 13 of OtSttCA)

Of course, if the Breach never forms in this AU, then no Herald of Andraste would exist, which means the role of Inquisitor could more or less go to anyone.

While I can see Niamh accepting the role of Commander in this AU per your suggestion, I can't foresee her wanting to be the overall leader of the Inquisition, especially if you recall her reaction regarding it in chapter 17. That said, I can't imagine it would be easy trying to find or convince Niamh to actually join the Inquisition.

Per OtSttCA's timeline, Niamh came back to Ferelden to see if the Divine could succeed in securing an end to the Templar-Mage war. Since the Conclave isn't destroyed, I can only imagine it would still take a bit longer to making that happen. Niamh likely stays in the country with the intention to oversee its progress, but she largely keeps herself out of sight of the Chantry's many watchful eyes.

I could see her trying to lay low in the Frostback Basin with the Avvar. Niamh probably came across one of their hunting groups by accident when they're set upon by a pack of wyverns—a hearty food source in such unforgiving terrain but still remarkably dangerous beasts overall. Niamh subdues the wyverns with her magic, and in the aftermath of the battle, she checks on the condition of the Avvar hunters. Once she's assured they're alright, and upon discovering she's so close to Avvar territory though, she had every intention of leaving out of respect, but Thane Svarah "Sun-Hair" invites her into Stone-Bear Hold as an honored guest.

Niamh's inner scholar would likely enjoy learning more about the Avvar, so she truly takes the time to study their customs and beliefs along with the various ways in which the mages and Augurs use their magic.

Leliana and Cassandra find themselves in the Frostback Basin to investigate Niamh's whereabouts, especially since there were sightings of her helping with a negotiation on the behalf of an Avvar trader. They could also be in the area to investigate what happened to Ameridan, leader to the previous Inquisition who disappeared several Ages ago. Honestly, I think the entire premise of the Jaws of Hakkon DLC would be an interesting way to introduce Niamh's recruitment into the Inquisition! ...Of course, getting her to agree to join is another matter entirely. 😅

Following the aftermath of the Blight, Niamh had no intention of fighting for any further wars ever again, but that's essentially what Justinia and her respective Hands are asking her to do. Bear in mind that Justinia only planned to reform the Inquisition if peace couldn't be reached between the Templars and the mages. If Niamh's being asked to join it, then it's because they're asking her to be an active military commander to what is otherwise a religious organization—the same one that's taught her all her life to hate herself for what she is.

Leliana wants Niamh to join because their only other viable Commander candidate is Cullen, who she feels is too controversial a figure due to his history as Knight-Captain of Kirkwall's disastrous Circle. Knowing that Cullen is even in the Inquisition causes Niamh to balk even harder about joining, much to Leliana's dismay.

Niamh returns back to Stone-Bear Hold when she hears word that the Jaws of Hakkon are planning to move against Thane Svarah's group. Knowing it could be their only chance to get Niamh to reconsider her decision to join, Leliana offers Cassandra and herself as aid (along with a small contingent of her own agents) for the chance to have Niamh at least hear them out again. Niamh—not wanting Stone-Bear Hold to suffer due to her stubbornness should they be overrun without help—reluctantly agrees.

Per the events of the DLC, they do end up figuring out what's going on, which means Ameridan's fate and actual identity is finally revealed. At such a revelation, Leliana steels herself for what she assumes is Niamh's absolute refusal to join the Inquisition. To her surprise, she does the opposite. ("Make no mistake. Becoming the Inquisition's Commander never would have been my first choice, but the Chantry hid the fact that Ameridan was an elven mage for centuries, Leliana. If nothing else, this entire incident has shown me the lengths such an institution will go to in to hide anything they deem as remotely inconvenient to their rhetoric. I don't know what type of history your Divine intends to carve out, but I will not allow my people to become yet another scapegoat just so that the Chantry might escape more hurtful truths.")

So Niamh joins as a reluctant member of Justinia's War Council, but despite her reservations, she gives her absolute all as their lead strategist and Commander, especially once Corypheus finally makes his appearance. Also, thinking about Niamh in full Commander regalia is doing wonderful things to my mind right now... 🤤

Since Niamh's not out doing active fieldwork like she would be as Inquisitor, that means she'll be at Skyhold more often, which would allow her and Leliana to actually catch up with one another more easily.

Other than that, I imagine most of the in-game decisions will still play out in much the same way it would in OtSttCA.

At this point, I don't know who's going to end up as the Inquisitor for this group. My canon Hawke might be a fun character to play off of Niamh. 😂 I think this could still be an interesting AU to write though. Not my best work so far, but I hope you enjoy my thoughts on this!

[intothewildsea]

@sharp-teeth-and-wide-grins (cullen)

Niamh had never thought that she would be part of an arranged marriage.

It had been somewhat suddenly sprung upon her. An alliance, she’d been told, was needed between the Inquisition and the Selkies, but a regular old alliance wouldn’t do. Selkies were careful creatures, not quick to trust, and they wanted something substantial. Something that would show that their kind would be treated well.

So, it was proposed that a marriage be brokered.

She hadn’t been forced into it. They’d asked and she’d agreed, though it was a little reluctantly. They’d asked her because she’d already integrated herself into the human world well enough - she knew about them and their ways. She was an ideal candidate.

She didn’t feel much like one though as she stood in the hall and waited to be introduced to her fiance. Fiance. The word felt awkward on her tongue. She wondered if it would ever stop feeling that way. Nervously she smoothed out some of the wrinkles on her skirt. 

[thechildofmythal]

Feelings of Failure Part 2/3

I surprised myself and decided to continue this piece.

Read the first part here on Tumblr (there's also a link to AO3) if you like. It's the ending of the battle of Adamant Fortress. The Inquisitor returns from the Fade, is injured, Cullen is angsty and feels he has failed her.

In this second part, they're back in Skyhold and the Inquisitor is mostly recovered from her injuries. Cullen, however, has taken a turn for the worse. This is a canon-compliant but expanded view of the scenes in Inquisition where Cullen goes to meet Cassandra and then sends his lyrium kit flying across the room.

Trigger warnings: PSTD, mentions of self-harm, addiction, withdrawal symptoms, depictions of pain and trauma, body-dysmorphia.

I wasn't exactly ok with how in-game Cullen is ranting and hitting things and is generally fucking hurt, and all the Inquisitor says is, "You can" and then Cullen says "Alright", like that's it? No, that's not it.

So here's to the road to healing.

Read the second part here in AO3 (only for registered users!)

or you know, read the whole chapter under the cut because I love you guys.

Part two

words: 5183

After returning from the Adamant Fortress back to Skyhold in the back of a horse carriage, Inquisitor Ellana Lavellan had been bedridden to recover from her injuries. Healing spells and the best care the Inquisition could offer had her healing quickly, but she couldn’t help feeling useless. She was visited by her friends daily, healers a few times a day, her chambermaid Niamh took care of her and brought her food and tea, and she insisted on receiving reports on the aftermath of the battle. Josephine’s fine handwriting told of how she had informed the world about what had taken place in Adamant, Leliana’s notes were detailed in speculation, and Cullen’s neat handwriting was… not as neat as usual, she noticed.  Ellana squinted at the writing to make out the words. His report was short and very matter of fact. Cullen had not been in to see her at all in the days they had been back in Skyhold, but Ellana found a small personal note scribbled to the bottom of his report:

I hope you’re feeling better soon. It is strange knowing you are in Skyhold but not seeing you up and about.    -C

“Why don't you come and see me, then, if you miss me,” Ellana muttered to herself, drawing her fingertip over his handwriting, as if touching him instead of a piece of paper. Oh how she missed him. She hoped he was well - he hadn’t seemed well after the battle in the Western Approach, or what little she had seen of him during their journey back to Skyhold.

After a few days of rest and extensive use of healing herbs later, Ellana finally found her leg could carry her weight. The ribs still ached and were bruised, but she could breathe and move more or less normally. She was very happy to get permission to get out of bed and walk - the healer was very persistent - walk , not run or jump, around Skyhold to help the recovery.

The Inquisitor’s appearance in the Grand Hall stirred mild applause and appreciative murmurs all around. As she hobbled through the Grand Hall, many congratulated her on the victory in the Adamant fortress and wished her a swift recovery. Ellana thanked every one of the well-wishers, even though she recognised very few of them.

She was eager to get outside. Ellana noticed she had gotten used to sleeping and working and eating within stone walls, but she had spent too many days trapped indoors now. The Dalish elf relished the feel of wind in her hair and fresh air in her lungs when she finally got outside to the Skyhold grounds. She was met by some of her friends near the tavern, and more surrounded her as the word got around that the Inquisitor was up and about.

Iron Bull, Blackwall and Sera gathered around and got Ellana a comfortable chair to sit on outside the tavern. Dorian appeared from the library soon enough and arrived to give his dear friend a kiss on the cheek. He even made Sera move so he could sit next to Ellana. Even Josephine and Leliana noticed the gathering and joined. Ellana felt warm and happy to be surrounded by some of the best people she had ever known, even though she noticed a few of her inner circle were not present.

“How are you doing, Boss?” Iron Bull asked her eagerly as the people were gathering.

“Better, thank you. It’s so nice to be outdoors. If I was going to spend another day inside I would have gone mad,” Ellana laughed holding her side with her hand.

“Your well-being is our top priority, Inquisitor,” Josephine reminded sagely. “I’m sure it will lift the spirits all around Skyhold to see you up and about.”

“Yeah, everybody’s been all jittery while you’ve been stuck in bed,” Sera chimed in.

“What do you mean jittery?” Ellana asked.

“Well Varric’s not himself at all,” Sera explained. 

“It’s no wonder. The loss of his dear friend hit him hard,” Leliana said softly, and everyone hanged their heads in silence for a while, respecting Hawke’s memory for a few heartbeats.

“And Cullen’s too much like himself,” Sera broke the silence by continuing.

“What do you mean?” Ellana asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You know. All shouty and pouty,” Sera explained flippantly.

“The Commander has been… rather anxious after Adamant’s events,” Josephine said, placing her words carefully. 

“The pressure of command can sometimes feel like a crushing weight on your shoulders,” Blackwall mused. “I think the operation in Adamant went as well as it could. Some losses were inevitable. Perhaps Cullen needs reminding of what a good Commander he is.”

“Indeed. Now that you’re up and feeling better, perhaps you could talk to both Varric and Cullen,” Leliana suggested.

With a worried crease on her brow, Ellana nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll talk to them both today. Thanks for bringing it to my attention.”

Sera and Iron Bull were there to change the subject to other, happier things, and eventually most of the troupe decided to have lunch together in the dining hall. Iron Bull carried Ellana to lunch on his shoulder like she was no heavier than a household cat, and Dorian fretted over her like a mother hen. 

*

After lunch Ellana asked around, and finally found Varric in the tavern. She joined him and sat with the dwarf for a couple of hours - mostly talking, sometimes just sitting in companionable silence. Varric downed a few pints of ale, Ellana emptied a whole pot of tea. She felt like having a drink, too, but knowing she probably had another difficult discussion ahead of her the same day, she decided to save the wine for later.

After Varric finally expressed that they had been going on about Hawke enough for now, Ellana paused and stared at the tea leaves on the bottom of her cup.

“Have you been to see Curly yet?” Varric asked, as if reading her thoughts.

“Nope,” she replied, still staring at her tea cup.

“You should.”

“So I’ve gathered.”

“You really care for him?” Varric asked then.

“You know…” Ellana turned to look at him. “I think I really do.”

“He doesn’t seem like he lets anyone near him very easily,” Varric said thoughtfully. “But the way he looks at you…”

Ellana felt a flush on her cheeks. “What? How does he look at me?”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed,” Varric chuckled and shook his head. “He looks at you like you’ve cast an enchantment on him. All starry eyed and amazed. But to be honest, the way you look at him… ” 

Ellana had to laugh a little. “Yeah? And how do I look at him?”

“Like he’s the only man in the world, Lucky. Maybe you should go and tell him that. Again. You know, we’ve had this discussion before.”

“I know. I can’t help it if my heart has decided on a man who doesn’t let me love him as easily as I would like,” Ellana sighed.

“Love? Lucky, are we up to love already?” Varric asked and actually moved in his seat to look at her with an amused expression.

“Alright, that’s my cue,” Ellana suddenly placed her palms on the table and pushed herself up. She was happy to have conjured a smile on Varric’s face, but she was also eager to escape the question.

Ellana hobbled a few steps to stand behind Varric, still sitting in the same seat she had found him in two hours earlier. She placed a small kiss on the top of his head. “Take care now, Varric.”

The dwarf watched her go, and tenderly touched his head on the spot she had kissed. A small, sad smile curved his lips for a short while. “You too, Lucky,” he said quietly after she had already gone.

*

Ellana felt she was not fully recovered from her injuries. Climbing the stairs to reach Cullen’s office was surprisingly tiring, but her eagerness to see him kept her going.

The side door was open, and to her surprise and disappointment, Ellana found inside one fidgeting messenger, but no handsome commanders.

“Your Worship,” the messenger saluted immediately. “The Commander isn’t in right now.”

Ellana leaned against the door frame and lifted an eyebrow at the messenger. “I can see that. Where is he?”

“He’s gone to speak with Seeker Pentaghast.”

Ellana’s eyes widened, and she cursed to herself. Her memories of how Cullen had come to see her in the medical tent in the Inquisition’s encampment after the battle of Adamant were a little hazy, but she knew he took it all very badly. And after everyone she had talked with seemed to be worried about the Commander… This could only mean one thing. Ellana felt a lump of fear in her throat, and she turned to leave.

“Thank you,” she said to the messenger, who saluted again. 

Outside on the battlements Ellana stopped to take a deep breath. I should have sent for Cullen to come and see me while I was recovering, she thought to herself. I knew he wasn’t well and I should have done something earlier.

“Excuse me,” Ellana stopped two patrolling soldiers who were walking by. 

“Inquisitor,” they both saluted. 

“Do you know where Commander Cullen has gone? I think he went to speak with Lady Pentaghast?”

“We spotted him leaving his office a moment ago, Your Worship, but I didn’t see where he went,” one of the soldiers said.

“Can you find out for me as quickly as you can? I’m afraid I’m not in the shape to be running around Skyhold just yet,” Ellana explained apologetically.

“Of course, your worship. We’ll ask around and inform you right away.” 

With that, the soldiers were off, and Ellana took a moment to lean against the wall and rest. She distracted herself from her worry by daydreaming about the moments she had shared with the Commander in the battlements. Not in this spot in the middle of everything, but behind the western tower. And a few times in the secluded corner of the gardens. Once alone in the War room, too, after she had returned from a mission. His hands on her waist, stubble scratching her chin, leaving her lips reddened after all the kisses they had time for. A few times they had gotten a little heated, too. He had pressed her back against the wall with his body, tilted his head to kiss her deeply, passionately. She had lifted her leg along his, felt his hand trail along her thigh and grab her bottom. They had always had to break it off pretty quickly, usually because they were interrupted. But the way he looked at her with a lopsided smile and darkened eyes - oh Creators . Ellana was dreaming about the scar on the Commander’s lip just when the two soldiers returned.

“Inquisitor,” they saluted again, this time breathlessly. The poor sods had been running, Ellana thought. “Commander Cullen was seen going into the Armory with Lady Pentaghast.”

“Excellent. Good work,” Ellana thanked them and started towards the stairs. 

Soon Ellana approached the Armory. Her steps slowed as she heard shouting from inside, and her gut tightened in dread. The door was ajar, and she stopped outside to listen if they really were discussing what she feared they were.

“You asked for my opinion, and I've given it. Why would you expect it to change?” Cassandra’s strong voice sounded from inside.

“I expect you to keep your word,” Ellana heard Cullen’s strained voice. It made her breathe in sharply - was she imagining it, or did he really sound like he was in pain? “It's relentless. I can't -”

“You give yourself too little credit!” Ellana nodded approvingly at Cassandra’s interruption. 

“If I'm unable to fulfill what vows I've kept then nothing good has come of this!” Cullen sounded angry, and hurt. Ellana decided it was time to walk in. 

“Would you rather save face than admit–” Cullen stopped the moment Ellana pushed the door open.

Ellana looked from Cullen to Cassandra and back. They both stared at her, first, but Cullen quickly lowered his gaze, covering his face with his hand. 

“Forgive me,” he muttered, sounding both embarrassed and weary at the same time. Ellana took a few steps in and opened her mouth to stop him, but did not have the chance. The Commander quickly left through the door Ellana left open.

Cassandra remained standing where she was, and crossed her arms on her chest. “And people say I'm stubborn. This is ridiculous.”

Ellana stared after Cullen, and saw through the window that he was returning back to his office. He had looked awful - pale, tired, his eyes sunken. But he had sounded even worse - she had never heard him so strained and spiteful.

“I see you’re feeling better,” Cassandra commented on a softer note. 

Ellana turned to Cassandra. “Yes. Thank you. But I feel like I chose the wrong moment to be bedridden.”

“There’s never a good moment to get injured. The main thing is you are healing,” Cassandra’s matter-of-fact tone voice rang true.  “Cullen told you that he's no longer taking lyrium?”

Ellana nodded her head. “Yes, I’ve known for a good while now. I think he’s incredibly brave and strong to be doing that. I respect his decision.”

“I agree. Not that he's willing to listen,” Cassandra said and paused to take a breath. “Cullen has asked that I recommend a replacement for him.”

“What? Surely it’s not -” Ellana’s voice was a bit panicked, but Cassandra cut her off.

“I refused. It's not necessary. Besides, it would destroy him. He's come so far.”

Ellana turned to look after the Commander even though he had already vanished from sight. “I was a bit out of it when I was treated after the battle in Adamant, but I remember he thought he had failed somehow. I’ve expected him to come and see me now here in Skyhold, but he hasn’t.”

“We had an agreement long before you joined us. As a Seeker, I could evaluate the dangers,” Cassandra explained, and continued in a softer voice. “And he wouldn't want to... risk your disappointment.”

Ellana felt like someone was squeezing her heart in their stone cold fist. “Is there anything we can do to change his mind?”

“If anyone could, it's you,” Cassandra said without hesitation. “Mages have made their suffering known, but Templars never have. They are bound to the Order, mind and soul, with someone always holding their lyrium leash. Cullen has a chance to break that leash, to prove to himself - and anyone who would follow suit - that it's possible.”

Cassandra took a few steps to stand beside Ellana and look through the open door at Cullen’s tower.

“He can do this,” Cassandra said firmly.  “I knew that when we met in Kirkwall. Talk to him.”

*

Soon Ellana made her way back towards the side door to Cullen’s office. Before reaching it, she swallowed nervously and tried to make up her mind on how to enter. Smiling? Frowning? With a joke? With a flirt? 

She did not have to decide, because the moment she stepped in the doorway, she heard a loud roaring shout and something hit the door frame only inches from her.  

“Maker's breath! I didn't hear you enter!” Cullen breathed out sounding horrified as she turned to look towards where the projectile had come from. She realised he had thrown something at her - at the door, rather.

“I - Forgive me,” the man’s form collapsed, his head bowing down wearily as he supported himself against his desk.

Ellana took a few steps in, careful not to step on any shards of… was it his lyrium kit he had smashed to bits? 

“Cullen, if you need to talk-” she began, but Cullen waved her away.

“You don't have to -” his dismissal was interrupted by a spike of pain that had him fall against the side of his desk. 

“Cullen!” Ellana sprinted to his aid - ignoring the pain in her right leg and her side. She ducked under his arm to support him, her arms wrapping around him briefly. With her help Cullen regained his footing, and he gently pushed her away.

“I never meant for this to interfere,” he said without looking at her. 

Ellana felt a sting in her heart for having been pushed away. She looked at him - he sounded defeated and in pain. She wanted to do something, anything, to help him, to take his pain and his doubts away.

“I believe you,” Ellana said meekly, and kicked herself for not coming up with anything better.

“For whatever good it does. Promises mean nothing if I cannot keep them,” Cullen snarled and sauntered around his desk. He stopped by the window on the back wall, and Ellana saw how his hands turned into fists.

“You asked what happened to Ferelden's Circle,” Cullen said, referring back to their previous discussions. Suddenly it all came pouring out of him, and he couldn’t stop it. “It was taken over by abominations. The Templars - my friends - were slaughtered.”

Ellana had heard from other sources something of what had happened in Kinloch Hold, but now she heard the full horrifying story, and realised what it must have been like for Cullen personally. 

Cullen had his back towards her, but he continued, his voice full of hatred and hurt. “I was tortured. They tried to break my mind, and I - “ he let out a choke of disbelieving laughter, “How can you be the same person after that?”

Ellana wanted to go to him. She wanted to take him in her arms and kiss his pain away. She wanted to help him. Ellana opened her mouth to say something, but the man continued.

“Still. I wanted to serve. They sent me to Kirkwall, I trusted my Knight-Commander, and for what, hmm? Her fear of Mages ended in madness. Kirkwall's Circle fell. Innocent people died in the streets.”

Cullen’s strained voice wrenched Ellana’s heart, and she took a few slow steps closer to him. 

Finally he turned to face her, his eyes ablaze with agony as he threw his hands in frustration. “Can't you see why I want nothing to do with that life?”

Ellana reached to take a hold of his arm gently. “Of course I can. I - “

Cullen brushed her touch away. “Don't! You should be questioning what I've done!”

He walked away from her, leaving her to watch him helplessly as he paced back and forth in his office.

“I thought this would be better - that I would regain some control over my life. But these thoughts won't leave me…” Cullen held his head in his hands. “How many lives depend on our success? I swore myself to this cause! I will not give less to the Inquisition than I did the Chantry.” Cullen’s words sounded like a mantra now, and Ellana suspected it was something he had told himself over and over again. 

“I should be taking it!” Cullen hissed with insurmountable frustration, and suddenly slammed his fist against the bookshelf with such force that several books fell to the floor. He remained there, his chest heaving with heavy breathing, and he whispered, sounding disgusted with himself, “I should be taking it.”

Ellana was scrambling to find the right words. The man was in shambles before her. He was so proud and so determined it had probably been extremely difficult for him to go to Cassandra. He had probably been suffering for a lot longer and a lot more than he had ever let on. Realising it made Ellana feel a terrible lump in her throat, but she swallowed the tears and steadied her voice. She needed to get this right, or this would destroy him.

“This doesn't have to be about the Inquisition,” Ellana said as she walked across the room to Cullen. She slipped to stand between him and the bookshelf and sought for his eyes. “Is this what you want?” 

Cullen finally met Ellana’s gaze. She stood close enough for him to sense her scent. He was so exhausted, and ranting it all out to her had drained him. He was ashamed of his temper and of losing control in front of her. But there she still was, her earnest blue eyes meeting his. It was incredible. After all of this, Ellana’s eyes betrayed no remorse, no disgust, no pity. She was there, like the ever moving ocean is always there. Steadfast like the mountains, alluring like summer meadows, comforting like the sound of gentle rain on the roof.

He let out a long, shaky breath, and finally said, “No.”

He pushed himself off the bookshelf that he had been leaning against, and ran his hand through his hair. “But… these memories have always haunted me. If they become worse. If I cannot endure this…”

Cullen had brushed Ellana away before, but she risked reaching out for him once more. She cupped his face in her hands, holding his jaw, and made him look back at her. “Cullen. You are the strongest person I have ever met,” she said to him, every word weighed by emotion. “You have been through so much and come so far. Don’t take it. Please. You can do this, I believe in you.”

Cullen looked at her in disbelief. What did she see in him? He had bared his soul in front of her today, he had told her what he had been through, he had shown the worst of himself today. His anger, his fear, his bad temper, his weakness. To still have her kindness was unfathomable. 

Gingerly he touched her wrists with his hands. Slowly he pulled her hands away from his face and looked down at her hands, holding them in his bigger, gloved hands. 

“Alright. I won’t take it,” he said quietly, and let go of her hands. 

After a moment of silence, Cullen turned and paced back to his desk and lifted his hand to his neck awkwardly. 

“I’m sorry, I… I think I need to be alone now,” he said quietly. “I will take a breather and then return to work.”

Ellana inhaled deeply to steady herself. She knew what she needed to do next, and so she nodded in agreement. “A breather is an excellent idea.”

She promptly walked to the side door and locked it. Then she moved to the other side door and locked it as well. Cullen followed her with his eyes, his brow furrowing as he wondered what she was up to.

”What work do you have left for today?” Ellana asked, coming to stand by his desk, eyeing through the documents spread upon it.

”Please, I will take care of my -” Cullen began, but was interrupted.

”I asked, Commander, what tasks do you have left for today?”

Cullen blinked at her stern face. She had used her authoritative Inquisitor voice.

”Status update meeting with the officers, then troop training, then correspondence,” Cullen couldn’t avoid answering while fidgeting with the papers on his desk.

The Inquisitor promptly took the papers in question from his desk. Cullen was taken aback by her - he was used to seeing her exhibit her powerful and assertive side, sure, but being on the receiving end of it was rare for him.

”Alright,” Ellana said in a determined voice. “Cassandra will meet with the officers, we’ll revert your messages to Leliana and I’ll take care of troop training. An afternoon of mobility exercises will do wonders to the men  as well as myself, I think.”

”Mobility exercises?” Cullen repeated, stunned.

”What day is it today? It’s barracks inspection tomorrow morning, correct? I will ask Cassandra to take care of that too.”

”I will take care of my own work-” Cullen said in an increasingly annoyed voice.

”Yes, Cullen, once you’ve had a breather.”

”This is not neces-”

”Are you defying your Inquisitor’s orders?” Ellana asked sharply, looking at him in his eyes as if challenging him to try.

Cullen met her gaze, clenching his jaw.

Then the flash of pain and anger subsided. He took a deep breath in and lowered his gaze wearily. ”…no.”

”Good. I expect to see you tomorrow at noon at the War Room meeting, and until then you are off duty. It’s less than 24 hours. I’m sure you can manage that much free time.”

Ellana walked towards the door that still remained open.

”I will ask no one to bother you until noon tomorrow. But Cullen,” her voice softened and she turned to look at him, even though he avoided her gaze. ”I’m not telling you not to come to me. You can always come to me, today or any other day, and you need no excuse, no reason to. I want you to know that. Be it nine in the evening or two at night or first thing in the morning, I don’t mind. My door is always open to you.”

Cullen was not able to answer. He remained leaning against his desk heavily with both hands, unmoving.

”I’m proud of you,” Ellana said, her voice somehow soft and determined at the same time. Then she stepped out, pulling the door closed behind her.

When she had gone, the air stood still in Cullen’s office. He felt like a whirlwind had been through his room and his heart. He felt confused, he felt pain. He felt like an absolute failure. While Cassandra had refused to find a replacement to command the Inquisition’s armies, the Inquisitor had practically told him that he was unfit for duty and taken his work away from him.

What did he have left, if not his duty? He had nothing. An estranged and disappointed sister, and a lifetime of doing too little too late.

Cullen pushed himself off the desk, took a few tense steps around, and suddenly, with a loud angry shout, kicked his chair over with force. The chair’s backrest shattered against the stone wall, spreading the mess of broken things around a broken man.

*

Cullen spent a very difficult and painful evening by himself. The first couple of hours he had bristled with anger at himself, culminating in an urge to do something, anything, to distract himself from the derogatory thoughts and stabbing pains inside of him. He had held a fist against the stone wall, ready to punch the ungiving wall until his knuckles bled and cracked. He hadn’t - he had, instead, crumbled into a sobbing heap against the wall. 

He had held a knife, not really knowing what he was going to do with it, other than knowing that cutting would feel different to the pain that consumed him. Holding the knife and cutting himself would have him in control for once. He had ended up throwing the knife, and several more of them, at the training dummy by the wall. 

He had looked at himself in the mirror in his upstairs loft, wondering what he had done to deserve the kindness and attention of the Inquisitor. Of Ellana. What Cullen saw in the mirror was a man in shambles - a weary, tired, sad man, whose pallid complexion, dark under eyes and scarred skin could only repulse, not attract. Every time he looked at himself in the mirror he saw the scar on his lip. Every time he was reminded of the moment he had got it. Every time he remembered how he had not allowed anyone to heal him with magic. How scared he had been. He had crawled to a corner by himself, washed his face of blood, and stitched the cut on the lip by himself using a mirror. It had hurt in so many ways, and he had been sobbing all the way through. He had looked like a gargoyle with the badly stitched lip, and all these years later he thought he still did.

At some point Cullen awakened from his wallowing by a knock on the door. After Ellana’s stern words he really had not expected anyone to come knocking. He practically crawled to the door and cracked it open to take a look at who was there - thinking that maybe, just maybe, it was her . 

No one. There was no one. Cullen opened the door a bit more, and saw that someone had left a tray of food and water and tea out for him. He sighed deeply and took the tray in, then locked the door again.

An hour later he had managed to eat. Despite the nausea, food seemed to drive away the worst of the shakes. His hands were steady enough to hold a quill. 

Cullen stayed up until well past midnight, writing in a notebook. He hadn’t known what he was going to write when he had picked up the quill. As soon as he had touched the pen to paper, however, the words seemed to be flowing out like blood from a cut artery.

*

Cullen woke with a jolt. It took a while for him to remember where he was, and to calm his breathing. He was on his bed, still with clothes on, it seemed, and the morning sun was shining through the cracks in the roof. He had actually slept through most of the night. 

After a while he descended the ladder from his loft, and stood in the middle of the mess in his office. The broken lyrium kit still shattered all over the floor by the door, the pieces of the broken chair behind his desk, the torn and crumpled papers scattered around and the ink stains on his fingers and his desk told a story of an awful evening.

Cullen picked up the notebook, and read through everything he had written the night before. 

Then he rekindled a small fire to the fireplace, taking his time to nurture the flames. He tore the first page of the notebook away and burned it in the fireplace. The painful words on the page crinkled and burned and turned to ash. He burnt every single page he had written on, one by one, watching each of them catch fire, burn and vanish.

When Cullen was done with the notebook, he took time to clean. In an hour’s time his office as well as his private room upstairs were neat and tidy. He changed clothes, and after a moment's hesitation, stepped outside to the battlements to the sunshine and the refreshing mountain air. Cullen went on a morning run around Skyhold, taking the same route the soldiers used for training.

By eleven o’clock, Cullen had exercised, bathed, shaved, dressed in his uniform and sneaked late breakfast from the kitchens. He found Gatsi near the Grand Hall of Skyhold and asked for a new office chair. The chair was delivered to him shortly after as Cullen was opening all three doors to his office.

A little before noon Cullen concentrated on taking deep, steadying breaths as he walked from his office towards the War Room.

It was going to be alright, Cullen told himself. It’s going to be alright.

Read the third chapter here on Tumblr!

[greypetrel]

∆ SIZE ∆ for Aisling and Cullen c:

Hello! 💜

Thanks for the prompt! :D Here's some dad!Cullen for you. 8 years after the Exalted Council, more or less.

RIP elfroot, you'll be remembered as a hero.

Tis the prompt list

∆ SIZE ∆  -  sender starts measuring their hand in comparison to receiver’s

He heard her before he saw her.

A loud crack, a childish yelp, and a lout thud on the ground, before the crying started. Cullen left the basket full of now dried laundry on the nearest bench and turned the corner of the house, to meet with his daughter sitting on her butt, legs splayed before her and crying, quietly and somberly as she always did -she was loud when she was happy, that was it- as one of the elfroot plants of her mother was gingerly aflame. At least it was a freshly planted cutting in a pot, left enough distant from the nearest flower bed in the paved courtyard that there was no risk of fires.

He approached the child, crouching after her and placing a hand on top of her head, caressing his same blonde curls -only, longer, Aisling declared she refused to cut more than the tips of it until Niamh wouldn’t have asked herself.

“Hey, hey, what happened?”

The child didn’t answer, but just slouched on herself more, little hands pressed in her eyes and shoulder raising as she hiccuped.

“Did you hurt yourself when you fell?”

Niamh shook her head, vigorously, in a clear no.

He looked at the elfroot, slowly succumbing to the flames. The firepit was off, and he knew perfectly what had happened.

“Are you crying because of the plant?”

A nod of a curly head, the child moved and scrambled up, dress in total disarray and wrinkled all over, stained in grass and dirt -she sat down on the meadow again- and climbed on his lap, circling his neck with her arms and crying in the crook of his neck. He hugged her back, patting her shoulder and hushing her, giving comfort that she evidently needed. The elfroot fell on itself, flames slowly dwindling as there was nothing else to burn save some moist dirt in the pot. It wasn’t windy, luckily.

“I- I tried to water it, just like mamae does...” She confessed, with evident guilt.

“And then what happened?” He asked, calmly.

“… It appeared fire, not water. I didn’t want to.”

“I know, love, I know. It’s ok, nothing happened, see?”

He kissed her head, coaxing her to let go and turn to see the pot behind her. She but peeked a little from his shoulder, looking at the still fuming ashes that five minutes ago were a plant. For a 5-years-old it was impressive how quick and effective it was -Aisling has been impressed she manifested so early after all.

“The flowerbed didn’t catch fire, it’s over. Nothing happened.”

“Will mamae be angry?” She asked, with a little voice. “She love elfroot…”

He chuckled, shaking his head and planting another kiss. “No, not really. She will tell you that you shouldn’t use magic when you’re alone, and she’ll be right.” He had to scold her, just a little, because they’re really been lucky she directed her attention to just one potted sapling. He also did the best scolding face he could muster - with Niamh, it wasn’t really much, Sera always mocked him that all recruits would riot if they saw him being so soft. But as soon as the little girl crumbled back, big hazel eyes watering and lips trembling again, he looked mischievously left and right, smiling. “But… Can you keep a secret?”

He asked her, smiling mischievously. And effectly averting another crying fit. The little one, eyes still watery and sparkly, shily nodded, raising up on his thighs to get her ear closer to his face. Because secrets were whispered in the ears. He chuckled and obliged her.

“She’d be secretly very proud that you managed to reduce the plant to ashes so quickly. Very, very proud.”

It wasn’t even a lie. When they found out, she decided the fire in the stove was the reason her dinner wasn’t ready and… stoked the fire up with no wood or tool, causing the stove to flame angrily out and the child to run away from the kitchen screaming that Doris was angry and now hated her too, Aisling confessed that she was proud she manifested so early. Early children make powerful mages, she had good hopes.

Back to now, Niamh shifted again, enough to look at him in the eyes, full of surprise.

“Really, da?”

“Of course. But you shouldn’t tell her I told you, ok?”

“Tell what to whom?”

They both turned, looking at Aisling going out of the house, drying her hand on her apron and looking at them with a smile on her face. Niamh gasped, turning to stick her face in Cullen’s neck and hugging him tight, as if it could hide her. He chuckled and hugged her closer.

“It’s a secret, we can’t tell.”

“Oh, I see. Sounds very ser- What happened to that elfroot?” She asked, assessing finally that they were facing a pot full of white ashes. Niamh hugged him tigter, elbow coming too close in Cullen’s trachea and making him humph.

“We had an accident.”

“Mmmh.”

He observed his wife padding the rest of the way to them, still with a simpler version of elven leg wraps even after all these years, and fixing her skirt to crouch down more comfortably beside him, hand raising to rub circles on their daughter’s back.

“I’m not angry, ma hallain. What were you trying to do?” She asked, soothingly.

Niamh mumbled an answer, but it was muffled and lost.

“She tried to water your plant… But evoked fire instead.” Cullen filled her in.

“That was very thoughtful! But what did we say about using magic alone?”

She coaxed her, still caressing her back soothingly, a smile on her face that the scolding tone didn’t manage to melt away. Niamh, little by little, let Cullen go, slumping back and facing her mother, with a sigh.

“That I can’t use magic on my own until I’ll be big enough.” She recited, with scarce enthusiasm and looking down, sniffing loudly.

“That’s correct, my smart child.”

Another caress on her head, and Niamh, finally convinced that nobody was angry at her, looked up to her mother, pouting.

“But when I’ll be big enough? I’m almost six already!”

She declared, very seriously, a challenge on her little round face. They exchanged a knowing look, communicating without words a request for support. She had her “Why” phase and it has been tiresome. She was inquisitive and couldn’t take an answer that she wasn’t convinced in. And she was rarely convinced.

“Six is still too little, honey.” It was Cullen this time to try and placate her. With little results.

“Seven then? When? And if Bran’s here?”

Aisling sighed heavily, knowing that the only way out was a very precise answer that, in this case was hard to give. She took time to think, as Cullen took care of the dog.

“Bran doesn’t count as proper company to practice with. You need an adult with opposable thumbs.”

“Opposible?”

“Yes, like yours and mine. They need to do this.” He rose a hand and flexed his thumb inside his palm, again and a gain, demonstrating what was an opposable thumb. “Animals can’t do this, so they don’t count.”

And observing his hand in the air, Aisling got an idea.

“And also, you need to be this big to use fire on your own.”

She declared, grabbing Cullen’s hand with hers and bending it to sit in front of the child’s face. Who looked at it very suspiciously, as if it was another spoonful of her hated broccoli. Asking Cullen to keep the hand like this, the elf took the hand of the girl, bringing its palm to splay on her father’s, highlighting the size difference.

“See? This big and you’ll be able to do all you want, when you want, on your own.” She declared, smiling smugly.

Cullen held back laughters as Niamh considered, little fingers flexing minutely where they were left. A minute of consideration, and she got back to pout at her mother, dubious.

“But you use magic on your own like… All the time.”

“I’m big enough.”

“This big?”

Niamh pointed her index finger in the middle of Cullen’s hand, pushing it slightly with a challenge on her face. Cullen was so proud of her, bright and inquisitive and headstrong, not obeying to anyone if she wasn’t really sure of what she was doing.She was a handful, it was tiring, but he wouldn’t have it any other way, and couldn’t love each of the two women before him any more.

Aisling, on her own, was not one to give up without a fight wither, and rose one eyebrow, obligingly placing her palm against Cullen’s, with a sigh. She splayed her fingers against his, probing the size difference and pushing it slightly to make him feel that it was purposeful and she was there. The way she had done, fascinated, the first night they spent together. They way she did a thousand and one time, still marvelling about him after ten years they’ve been together. He couldn’t help but smile at her, softly, as it was the first time he noticed she was there. Grateful. She answered back, the same expression on her face.

“BLEAH! Ma, da, stop it!!” Niamh protested, hands pushing at Cullen’s cheek to make him turn away. This was all Sera’s doing, he chuckled under his breath.

“Sorry, love. But anyway…”

“You’re not big enough either!!” She declared, grumpily.

“No, I’m not.” Aisling smirked at her daughter, the same expression she had when she had the final word and she knew it. “And indeed, have you ever saw me evoking fire with no other adult around?”

Niamh opened her mouth to answer, gulping breath in… and slouching back down, very grumpily.

“… No. You never use fire if not to light candles and the firepit. But papa is always there…”

“Yes, darling. I’m not big enough, and so neither are you. Give it time, the moment will arrive. But for now… No more spells on your own, ok? And definitely call someone with opposable thumbs.” She caressed Niamh’s head, lovingly, wiggling her fingers on that point on her neck that tickled her, making her giggle and swat her hand away, squirming on Cullen’s lap.

“Ok, ma’. I promise.”

A child hand sprung out, pinky outstretched. Aisling crossed it, very solemly -because pinky promises were the most solemn, aunt Mia said it and uncle Dorian confirmed it-, sealing the pact.

They rose up from the ground, Cullen handling the child to her mother to prop on her hip -with a huff because indeed Niamh was growing- and go to retrieve the forgotten laundry. With some hope, Bran would not have stolen some bedsheet again.

“Mamae?”

“Yes, ma hallain?”

“But if I learn to make thunder, can I do it on my own? You use thunder on your own, I saw you!”

Aisling couldn’t even sigh, before laughter took her, bringing her child inside again. It would have been a long year, and she would still think it lasted entirely too little.

[nyf-archive]

@mysteryfilledmidnightskies asked | Who would / do they believe without question?What’s their instinct in a fight / flight / freeze / fawn situation?What’s something they’re expected to enjoy based on their hobbies / profession that they actually dislike / hate?If they’re scared, who do they want comfort from? Does this answer change depending on the type of fear?What’s a simple daily activity / motion that they mess up often?

pt 3.

who would / do they believe without question?

dragon age muses: cole, varric, and cullen. also roland (@eritvita) bg3 muses: halsin, minsc, karlach, withers, alfira, and any of their animal companions. (pre-tadpole colette would've done anything enver gortash told her to do or said to her.) cr muses: pumat sol. no doubts about anything he would ever ask of them. oh! and orly skiffback!

what's their instinct in a fight/flight/freeze/fawn situation?

colette, molly, nox, tavriel, cullen, dorian p, and yasha are all fight response. dorian s, saraelis, and finduilas are all flight/freeze situations. dorian freezes because he's scared and inexperienced. saraelis and finduilas are freeze because while they know how to defend themselves, they feel like they're not strong enough.

what's something they're expected to enjoy based on their hobbies?

colette enjoys painting or doing something artistic because it keeps her head and her hands busy. molly likes to stitch and sew or do embroidery, surprisingly. nox likes to play instruments, sing/write songs, design costumes, and be in the background. finduilas loves to sculpt and make large art pieces cullen loves to garden and take care of animals. dorian storm likes to bake, now

professions that they actually dislike/hate?

FETCH QUESTS. FUCK FETCH QUESTS

if they're scared, who do they want comfort from?

nox wants anyone she's close to. mainly people like halsin and maybe barrae now colette wants astarion or halsin, seeing as though those are her canon romance options. but if it's pre-tadpole or post-epiphany, then it's enver. otherwise, whoever is her closest friend during interactions, that's who she chooses. molly (bg3 verse) wants their partner, whomever it is that they've chosen. molly (cr verse) seeks out yasha, niamh, beau, caleb, or essek. depending on who they're still friends with at what time. finduilas (dragon age) seeks out dorian p, cullen, cole, or varric. fin (tolkien verse) searches for any of her friends or loved ones. tavriel looks for halsin since he was her canon romance. evanora looks for gale, her canon romance, or any of her other friends. she also cuddles scratch a lot. dorian storm looks for any of his friends/loved ones. mainly dariax, orym, and fern. yasha looks for beau or molly or niamh <3 cullen looks for his love interest or cassandra, seeing as though that's his closest friend

does this answer change depending on the fear?

nope.

What’s a simple daily activity / motion that they mess up often?

oh gods this can be a lot of things. routine things like checking their surroundings, meditating, practicing/reciting spells. You name it, they probably fuck it up at least once a week.

[brian-in-finance]

Video 📹 from Instagram

Remember… the 2018 competition included Elaine Cassidy (Acceptable Risk), Denise Gough (Paula), Amy Huberman (Striking Out), and Ruth Negga (Preacher). 2024 includes Sharon Horgan (Best Interests), Clare Dunne (Kin), Niamh Algar (Malpractice), Elva Trill (Northern Lights), and Siobhán Cullen (Obituary).

[cityandking]

every odd number for vesper & rasa!

ty!! // kids/babies questions

1. How many kids do they want? Do they have kids already?

VESPER — answered!

RASA — rasa loves hanging out with kids but never felt a strong desire for kids of his own. he always figured he'd be the fun uncle, especially once dorian was in the picture (double fun uncles)

3. Was their first planned?

VESPER — nope! niamh was very much a surprise. she and cullen figured they'd have a proper talk about it when things calmed down but there's really not much calming down for the (ex) inquisitor and commander of the inquisition. (the twins were also a surprise, mostly in that there were two of them when they were trying for just one)

RASA — also no. when he picked up a little war orphan he kind of figured it would be a short-term thing. like eventually someone else would step in to take care of her? but it kept not happening and not happening and eventually rasa was like. wait am I her dad.

5. How did they decorate their baby room?

VESPER — answered!

RASA — doesn't have a baby room; it's just his normal room plus a crib

7. What are their kids names?

VESPER — niamh is the oldest, and the twins are naomi and james

RASA — years ago I named his kiddo jaenan but I'm not totally sold on the name. jaenin? jinae? I gotta think on it.

9. Where do they go on their first family vacation?

VESPER — I don't think they really do "family vacations" per se but it's either to visit the grandparents in ferelden or to visit uncle kit in ostwick

RASA — they don't super do family vacations? probably to see an inquisition member, tho. leliana in val royeaux, josie in antiva, that sort of thing. I'm not entirely sure rasa understands the concept of vacations.

[dreadstained]

anon weekend !!

lydia martin

alice cullen

sookie stackhouse

caroline forbes

niamh