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shitpissboi · 4 years

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The More The Merrier

Summary- Just a calm night in with your favorite polycule.

Word Count- 3302

Request?- Yes

Pairing- Bakusquad x reader / Bakugou Katsuki x Kirishima Eijirou x Reader x Sero Hanta x Ashido Mina x Kaminari Denki

Warings- Detailed use of marijuana, swearing, kissing, slight making out, plus sized reader, deaf Bakugou, latinx Sero, aged up characters.

A/N- Again, I am so sorry this is late! I tried extra hard to make it good for the anon who requested it, so I really hope you enjoy it! :)

You smiled as you heard the front door open, watching your redheaded and blonde boyfriends converse as they took off their jackets and shoes at the front door. The two looked up to see you and, and the rest of your partners, all relaxing on the couch. You were on the very end, closest to the door, while Hanta and Denki sat on either side of the middle corner piece, and Mina laid next to the blonde, her head in his lap while the rest of you gamed. You heard some shuffling before a hand gently grabbed the back of your neck, leaning it back to show him smirking down at you.

“Hi Katsu, how was work today love?” You asked, smiling sweetly. Before responding, he leaned down, his eyeliner smeared and the soot from his quirk in a line in the shape of his mask. You leaned back more to give him better access and couldn’t help but smile as his lips met yours. You reached up and put one of your hands on the side of his head, signaling him to stay there. He deepened the kiss by moving his lips slightly, you following in sync with him.

“Come onnnnn, don’t hog Katsuki! I wanna kiss him too!” Denki piped up besides you, making the other blonde break the kiss and playfully glare at him. With your question unanswered, said man walked over to Denki and did the same thing he did to you, but instead of leaning down to kiss you, he lifted the blonde off the couch and held him in his arms bridal style. He quickly fixed him so he was sitting on the couch, with Katsuki between his legs and leaning so far forward that he had to hold Denki to keep him from falling. Said blonde squealed and quickly threw his hands around the other man's shoulders and blushed violently.

“You got my attention now sparky, what’re you gonna do about it?” The older man asked, leaning down even further. Your attention was pulled away as Eijirou made his way over to you, having started with Mina and ignored the situation between your two blonde lovers. You got on your knees and faced him, putting your arms around his shoulders and pulling him closer.

“Hello, my little pebble.” The red head hummed, gripping you by your waist and touching his forehead with your. He gave you a small kiss before pulling away, chuckling at the way you pouted. You sunk back down into the couch and looked to the middle of the couch when you heard a scream and a soft thud. Denki had unceremoniously fallen down after Eijirou had pulled Katsuki away to go shower, which led to dropping the poor blonde and his feet to land over his head.

Denki sat up and grumbled something you couldn’t hear, wrapping his arms around himself. Mina rolled her eyes and hugged him, whispering something in his ear that made him blush and hide his face behind his hands. You rolled your eyes at the supposed “flirt” and turned your attention to your last lover.

“Where’re you going, handsome?” You asked as he stood up and started to walk around the couch but stopped in front of you, running his hand through your hair gently.

“I’m just going to grab our stuff real quick so we're ready when Katsu and Eji get out of the shower, mi amor.”

“Okay, can you grab me a hoodie on your way back, please?” You asked with a small pout, leaning your head up and kissing his wrist.

“Why would I get you one when I can just give you this one?” The tall man asked, pulling his hoodie over his head, revealing an old and loved muscle tee, some small holes torn throughout the shirt. You lifted your arms up and he slipped the hoodie onto you while you raked your eyes over his torso. You muttered out a thank you when he was done, breaking yourself from your trance and sitting on your knees, pulling the black haired man closer by his waist. He looked down and smiled, placing his hands on both sides of your face.

“Your welcome, hermosa.” He mutters, kissing your forehead. You grinned up at him and giggled, watching as he pulled away and started his descent to the bedroom. It was only a couple minutes before he came back with a handful of stuff, you stood up and helped him set it all on the coffee table, going to grab a good couple bottles of water while he went to get the rest. You got back first and set all the bottles up in one of the top corners.

Hanta came back and sat next to you, piling the rest of the stuff on the table. He grabbed a big jar, covered in stickers, out of the mess, along with two grinders. He passed a grinder to you and opened his own, taking the top off of the jar and grabbing a nug. You opened and grabbed your own, breaking it up enough to fit in the ginder before closing the top and swiveling it back and forth.

You repeated the process a couple times before the grinder was filled. You set the grinder down and slid the bong and a water bottle toward you. You checked to make sure the bong was clean before pouring the appropriate amount of water in, setting the bottle aside and grabbing the grinder again. You packed the bowl as full as you could, making sure to keep just a little bit of room at the top, and put down a layer of kief.

You pushed the bong toward the middle of the table and put the grinder next to it, getting up and heading to the kitchen. You went in the junk door and grabbed a bunch of pamphlets out of the junk draw, walking back and tossing them on the table. You noticed Sero was done rolling the joints and was sitting back, so you sat next to him and threw your legs over his, curling up so your head was laying in the crook of his neck. His arms instinctively wrapped around your form and held you against him.

“We doing takeout for dinner tonight?” He murmured, resting his head atop of yours. You hummed and nodded.

“I gotta ask Suki if he’s okay with it but I figured since he just got home he wouldn’t want to cook, and you could probably use a night off from it too.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine with it, we haven’t had takeout for a while so he shouldn’t cause a fuss. I’m more than okay with it.” The black haired man chuckled, running his hand gently up and down your leg absentmindedly. You gave a small chuckle back and snuggled into him more, turning your eyes to the tv as the game was turned off and Hulu was turned on. Only about ten minutes passed with you peacefully resting on your boyfriend before your last two boyfriends finally walked into the living room.

Eijirou sat at the other end of the couch, his right leg against the couch and right dangling to the floor. Mina sat between his legs, her legs hanging over his right one, and Denki sat next to her, their shoulders touching but his legs crossed. Katsuki came to sit with you and Sero, sitting on the other side of you and wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you back so you were laying against his chest instead of Hanta’s. The blonde hero just leaned over you though, taking the kiss from the other man’s lips that he was supposed to get when he walked in, muttering a small but definitive “There!” as he pulled away.

You smiled at your two boys but turned away to let them have their privacy, leaning over to grab one of the joints from the table that Sero had rolled, and a lighter. Leaning back, and still sandwiched between the two men, you brought the joint to your lips and lit the other end as you inhaled. The smoke filled your lungs with a pleasant burn to the back of your throat, holding the smoke in as Katsuki took the joint from you. You just rolled your eyes at his impatient ass turned toward Hanta, giving the blonde a smirk then leaning in toward the other.

Said man leaned in as well, opening his mouth so he could inhale the smoke flowing out of yours. Getting impatient yourself, you closed the distance between you two, molding your lips together as he exhaled the smoke through his nose. Your lips moved together in sync, the taller man setting a slow but steady pace. The pomeranian growled behind you and grabbed the back of your shirt, gently yanking you back and handing the joint off to Hanta. He took it but continued to glare at Katsuki over your flustered state.

“You can’t just pull her back like that man!”

“Oh yeah, what are you going to do about it Tape Face?”

“You really want to go down this road again, bebe`?” The black haired man asked, slightly gripping the others neck with his hand. Your eyes widened and you quickly rolled off of the two, calmly making your way over to the rest of your partners. You grabbed the take out pamphlets and sat in the middle corner, facing the other three. Denki immediately abandoned his position and bounced over to you, climbing into your lap and sitting right between your crossed legs. You smiled at the adorable man, kissing his cheek and running your fingers through his black and blonde hair.

“Hey cutie, you come here often?” He joked, leaning up to face you. You couldn’t help but laugh at his badly timed and overused joke.

“You're lucky you're so cute, dummy.” You laughed, placing a quick kiss on his lips. He smiled and blushed a little, quickly leaning back to hide it and grabbing the bong from Mina in the process. He proceeded to take his hit while you turned toward Eji and Mina, thrusting the pamphlets toward them.

“You guys can pick what to eat tonight. I was gonna ask Suki and Hanta too but they’re a little busy.” You explained, nodding over to said men who were still arguing. You only reached out to grab the joint that Hanta had set on the table.

“Hey baby, can you hold this while I hit that?” You asked, holding out the joint to him and reaching toward the bong in his hand. He just nodded, wanting to see how long he could possibly hold the smoke in.

“Your quirk hurts your lungs enough Denks, trying to hold it for so long is just gonna make it worse.” You sighed, giving him a quick kiss on the shoulder before bringing the bong to your lips and inhaling while lighting it. Said man just waved you off, his face starting to turn red from how long he was holding it. You pulled the bong away after a good couple seconds and handed it over to Mina, who passed it to Eijirou. You exhaled the smoke upwards, grabbing the joint back from Denki right before he doubled over, the smoke finally getting to him.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” You sighed, rolling your eyes and running your hand up and down his back comfortably. He reached over and grabbed a water bottle from the table, chugging half of it before finally starting to calm you. You rolled your eyes again and brought the joint to your lips, grabbing the hand he wasn’t using to drink and molding his fingers so only was being pointed.

Used to this by now, he simply let you do what you needed to do. You brought his finger up to the end of the joint, squeezing his wrist twice once he was close enough. He sent a small shock to his fingertip, effectively re-lighting the joint for you. You quickly started to exhale, moving your hand to the back of his neck and running it through his hair to show your appreciation. Over his coughing fit, he hummed and leaned into your touch, giving you a quick kiss on the side of your head. You pulled the joint away, holding your breath for only a couple seconds, and then exhaled, passing the joint off to Mina to pass to Eijirou again.

“Wait, I can smoke the joint this time?!” Mina asked, staring at you wide eyed.

“Sorry pebble but not today, they just handed it to you cuz they can’t reach me. You know you and Denks can only smoke joints on special occasions, both of your quirks are really hard on your lungs!” Eijirou piped up, gently taking the joint from Mina and handing her the bong, making sure to give her a kiss on the forehead too.

“But-but it can be a special occasion! Please Eiji, just one hit?” The pinkette pouted, giving her best puppy dog eyes to the red head.

“How about this, when us four get to the roach, we’ll make a time bomb and let you hit that.” Eijirou suggested, taking his own hit from the joint. (If anyone doesn’t know, a timebomb is where you put a roach in the bowl and then fill the rest of the bowl, mostly done with kief :)

“Oooh okay! That’s definitely better than the joint!” She smiled, giving Eijirou a quick kiss back on his lips and then taking her hit from the bong, proceeding to pass it to Denki.

“Wait, if Mina can hit the time bomb, can I?!” He asked excitedly, practically bouncing in your lap.

“Sure, but just be careful please, you already hurt your lungs today, love.” You gave Eijirou a look before answering, only answering him once the red head gave you a nod. He cheered and let out an excited thank you, hugging you tight to him. You just laughed and hugged him back, smiling at the excitement and enthusiasm that he still held, even after years of knowing him.

He worked on calming himself down as Mina passed the joint to you. You took your hit and then looked over to Hanta and Katsuki, giggling at the scene before you. Hanta was sitting similarly to Eijirou, except both legs were wrapped around Katsuki’s torso and resting on his thighs. Katsuki was lying between his legs, his head snuggled into the crook of Hantas stomach and thigh.

You're not sure how, or when, they got into that position, but you aren’t surprised. Katsuki comes off very harsh and domineering, but once you got to know him, you learned how nice and caring he can actually be. It takes a while, especially since he has no interest in making friends (ever), but it’s definitely worth it once you get past his walls. He would do anything for those he cared about, even more so with the 5 of you, who he was completely whipped for.

When Hanta and Eijirou step up, it’s very easy to see the dominating nature melt away into something soft and almost unrecognisable, only showing that side to the 5 people that he loved and trusted the most. The blissful look on his face and the uncharacteristically relaxation of his muscles gave his true feelings away, even though he would swear up and down that he couldn’t stand it when Hanta did that later on.

Your smile softened at the peaceful look on his face, noticing Hanta look down on him with an equally loving look in his eye. He looked up when he noticed you starring, giving his famous triangle smile and scratching the back of his neck. You gave him a smile back and reached over, gently rubbing Katsuki’s lower leg. He opened his eyes and looked up at you, a small smile still on his face. You reached over as far as you could with Denki in your lap, and handed him the joint. His face lit up a little as he took it from you, quickly bringing it to his lips and taking a long drag of it.

Your attention was captured by said man in your lap as he handed you the bong, getting up to head to the bathroom, Mina getting up too so she could use it after him. You quickly took your hit off the bong and set it on the table, having cashed it, and sat up so you could pack it again. You took the fresh roach from Hanta and placed it in the bowl, grabbing the grinder next to you.

You heard Eijirou on his phone in the background, ordering from some random take out place for all of you. You opened the second compartment on the grinder and set one half down, grabbing the very small spoon off the rolling tray and starting to transfer the kief from the grinder to the bowl. You held the roach steady as you packed around it, filling the bowl as much as you could with the small herb.

By the time you were done so was Eijirou, so you grabbed the bong and the lighter and moved toward him. You handed him the bong and he thanked you, quickly taking his hit before passing it back to you. Before you take your hit, he grabbed your hips and pulled you toward him, making you let out a small surprised squeal. He had moved so he was sitting back against the couch, his legs spread apart comfortably. He moved you so you were sitting between his legs but facing the rest of the couch, your shoulder against his chest and your legs hanging over his.

You blushed and giggled, welcoming the warmth of your space heater boyfriend. He chuckled and kissed the top of your head, apologizing for scarring you. You told him it was okay and leaned up to kiss his nose, making him laugh again. You sat up straight to take your hit but relaxed against him as soon as you were done, passing the bong to him so he could hold it. You heard Mina and Denki come back in but paid it no mind, the beautiful haze clouding your mind. As the two got comfortable on the couch, your feet somehow ended up under Denki’s thighs, allowing you to let out a sigh of content, your cold feet getting some much needed warmth.

Eijirou tightened his grip around you and smirked, easily recognizing you fading in and out. You smiled again and snuggled into him, allowing your head to rest on his broad chest. He lifted your head for just a second to pull your hoodie over your head, his hand lingering to cup your face. You smiled gratefully and kissed his hand as a thank you, leaning into the touch.

The redhead smiles and kisses your head, muttering a small “welcome”, having known you long enough to know what your small gestures mean. He held you tight against him, running his now free hand up and down your arm and resting his chin on your head. You opened your eyes briefly to see Denki and Mina sitting next to each other, giggling as they tried to hit the bong at the same time. You rolled your eyes and looked over to your last 2 partners, still in the same position that they were in.

You smiled and let your eyes close, relaxing into your boyfriend. You loved all of your partners, even if they were loud or harsh or idiots, it didn’t matter to you. They were your idiots. And you wouldn’t change it for the world.

Masterlist

Posted 1/4/21

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cheeseburgersinparadise · 3 years

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If you had to design a McDonald’s stuffing challenge for us, what would it be?

McDonald’s only?? hmm. I know they have those family packs/meals that are supposed to serve 4 people so that would definitely be fun to try. Do they still have the platter of like 50 nugs? If so, I think I’d try to get the family meal plus a big nugget platter with all the sauces and expect you to finish as much as you could. You can choose the soda though, because I try to be nice :3

Or it might be fun to get like 2 of each thing from the dollar menu, or three complete meal combos of your choice….also could do a burger challenge with 10 cheeseburgers or something similar.

Lots of possibilities!

#chzburger answers

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thessalian · 2 years

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Molly!Warden vs Old Home Week

Alistair: You’re ... packing your gear. Why are you packing your gear?

Molly: Eh, bit of a loose end, feeling a bit of wanderlust ... thought I might track Morrigan down. You’re still without an heir as far as I know--

Alistair: Well ... I haven’t exactly been looking...

Molly: I know, I know, and this way you can maybe take a look at the ladies Eamon keeps throwing at you, and broach the subject of threesomes gently.

Alistair: Molly!

Molly: No, but seriously. It’d be good to know where she went, and how that kid of hers - and yours - is doing.

Alistair: I ... can’t come with you. You know that.

Molly: Yeah, I know. Wish you could but it’d be awkward for everyone, especially having the king swanning around the Korcari Wilds again. But I’ll have company. Assuming I can pry Woof out of the kennels. The kennelmasters took one look at him and basically went, “We’re low on war dogs so we are getting you so laid...”

Alistair: Well, at least he hasn’t been the only one the last little while.

Molly: Aww, you’re adorable when your head’s in the gutter. I’ll be back.

Alistair: You’d better be. We still need more war dogs and winter is coming--

Molly: And winter won’t be all that’s coming when there’s a lamp-post requiring licking, I know.

The Korcari Wilds

Molly: Yeah, I know she was here, Woof, but she hasn’t been back here since before we came and killed Flemeth. Well. Probably killed Flemeth. Killed her big honking dragon-form, anyway. The hut looks deserted, though ... except the fire--

Ariane: Hold it right there!

Woof: *snarrrrrrrrrrrrl*

Ariane: Okay ... maybe we both put the weapons down and explain what’s going on?

Molly: Dalish, right? Okay, which of the Witches of the Wilds are you after.

Ariane: Either-or, really. One might help with the other. Morrigan took our book!

Molly: I don’t remember Dalish being much on reading.

Ariane: Well, books aren’t exactly durable but this one was about eluvian. Not sure if place or artefact but either way, it or the doorway to it killed two good Dalish folk before we smashed it. We had a book and Morrigan stole it and--

Molly: Yeah, okay, I’m looking for her anyway and I’d rather you not shank her to get your book back. Not until I’m sure what her intentions are, anyway.

Ariane: There’s another book in that mage library but they won’t let me in!

Molly: You’re in luck, then. Grey Wardens basically have a “Get Into Everywhere Free” card. Also I’m the only reason any of those mages is still alive and ... not abominazing. C’mon; I can at least talk us past Carroll on the dock--

Darkspawn: RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Molly: ...Why? I cleared out the Wilds twice. I murdered Mother, Architect, Archdemon and every other conceivable reason you have to be on the surface. So why are you here?!?

Ariane: You expect them to answer you?!?

Molly: After Amaranthine, I’m just relieved they’re not. Go for the mage first, please.

Ariane: Oh. Right.

Stabnation: *ensues*

Kinloch Hold

Hadley: It looks a little different than when you were last here, I know.

Molly: Significantly fewer bloodstains and abominations, yes. How much furniture did you have to throw out?

Hadley: You probably don’t want to know. In any case, feel free to avail yourself of our library.

Ariane: They make things so easy for you.

Molly: I saved their lives and also can’t be possessed. They probably like me.

Gossipy Mages: I heard the Hero of Ferelden took on a pirate wench and three greased nugs ... between the sheets!

Molly: *ahem*

Gossipy Mages: ...oh. Oh sod.

Molly: Replace “three greased nugs” with “the king of all Ferelden” and you’re edging towards accuracy on that story.

Gossipy Mages: ...wut.

Ariane: ...did you really?

Molly: No; Isabela and I were both keen but he still hadn’t kicked some of the Templar habits. Took about six months of lamp-post licking before he’d consider a threesome. Now he’s actually kind of keen on the idea as long as it’s not Morrigan again.

Ariane: ...How ... do I know when you’re kidding?

Molly: You don’t. That’s the glory of being me.

A good long while later

Ariane: You know what book we wanted! Why did you have to go reading every other book?

Molly: Look, when I did finally get high status enough to get into the Shaperate, I didn’t really have time for reading, okay? And the library in the palace is great and all, but this is about mages punching people. But fine, fine, I’ll get the translation guide and we can look at that book on elven artefacts you’re squeezing--

Finn: NOOOOOOO! You’ll break the spine!

Molly: And you are...?

Finn: A bit better versed in this kind of thing than you are. Also I can recommend talking to the statue in the repository. Just need to get the key from Hadley.

Molly: Out of interest, can you do that spell that rips the mana out of casters through their skin and makes them very very dead?

Finn: I ... actually always wanted to try that!

Molly: Good. Come on; show us to your chatty statue.

Ariane: You seem very relaxed about the ... chatty statues.

Molly: Found two in the Wending Wood. Avvars. It was a thing. C’mon.

Sandal: Enchantment?

Molly: I don’t know why I’m even surprised anymore. So while I redo my runes on my sword, Hadley, we need into the repository.

Hadley: Sorry, but the sentinels are kind of going crazy--

Molly: Just let me deal with it. I’ve probably stabbed worse.

Hadley: On your head be it.

Finn: Do people just ... let you do whatever you want?

Molly: A lot of them heard what happened to the last people who tried to stop me, so generally, yeah. So. Mage basement. Oh, but first, Finn, here.

Finn: Why ... why are you carrying around Tevinter robes and gloves and boots and things?

Molly: Talking darkspawn mage. It was a thing. Now, get dressed and mage basement.

Finn: Is she always so weird?

Ariane: On short acquaintance, yes. The dog is worse. The dog brings me flowers. I’m not sure why.

Molly: He’s sowed his wild oats and is looking at settling down, maybe?

Ariane: ........................Could you please just hold up a sign that says when you’re joking?

Molly: And ruin my fun? Hell no.

#Molly!Warden #Thess liveblogs Dragon Age #witch hunt

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sinsbymanka · 3 years

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Rubatosis from fun word prompt for any Anders-centric ship of your choosing?

Hello! For the @dadrunkwriting challenge. I wanted to do a little bit more for this but I’m trying to stay short. I may come back and add to it.

Rubatosis: The Unsettling Awareness of Your Own Heartbeat

Pairing: Anders & Merrill

Rated: M to be safe

CW: Blood Magic

Two weeks passed since they left Kirkwall, and Anders still hadn’t gotten used to Merrill’s neverending chatter.

Maybe it was because he, for the first time, found himself alone with the woman. There was no Hawke to redirect her inane questions to, no Varric to engage her in friendly banter. It was just two of them and Anders has never felt less talkative in his life. In fact, he could use some good, proper silence to plan. To think. To try and come to terms with his new life.

“What do you think that cloud looks like?” Merrill asked.

Anders looked up at the blue sky and the white, puffy clouds drifting lazily across it. He didn’t scream. Barely.

“Hawke’s drooling mabari,” he answered sarcastically. “And a big, juicy steak.”

“Really?” Merrill looked over her slim shoulder, eyes wide. “I thought it looked like a fennec myself.”

She turned that bright gaze back to the sky and squinted into the clouds. “I suppose I could see the steak, though.”

Anders barely repressed a hysterical laugh. How had he ended up trekking across the countryside with Merrill of all people?

Easy question. He blew up the Chantry, and everyone that was unlucky enough to be in it, before Hawke sent him packing just before Templar reinforcements showed up. Anders was a fugitive now, and he couldn’t afford to be picky when Merrill was sent alongside him to help him get as far from Kirkwall as he could. One companion was about as good as any other.

“I really don’t see the mabari at all. Are we looking at the same cloud?” Merrill asked.

Maybe the Templars would have been preferable.

Before he could summon the proper retort about Merrill and her ridiculous games, non stop talking, or any of the other things that had done nothing but annoy him since their escape from Kirkwall, he heard the clatter of hooves on the dirt road behind him.

Merrill froze and Anders followed her lead. They both looked over their shoulders at the sound of thundering hooves just in time to hear the accompanying shouts of men and women. Angry men and women.

“I knew that innkeeper was looking at us strangely,” Merrill murmured.

Anders barely heard her over the roar of blood in his ears. The fear always came back like this, sudden and intense, causing his stomach to turn and bile to rise up his throat. The sound brought back memories, metal armor and stone walls too high to climb, a lake separating him from the world outside…

“Run!” he yelled.

Merrill didn’t need to be told twice. They both sprinted from the road just as the figures of men and horses came into view. Anders heard the triumphant shout as they were spotted, felt the sucking drain of their powers around him, the popping of his ears.

“Duck!”

Merrill hit the ground just in time as the smite flew over their heads. She scrambled up in a moment, staff in hand. Her eyes flashed, deadly and sharp as the blade at her hip. She hollered something in Elvhen as Anders shoved himself up off the ground before it burst into a tangled forest of thorns.

Then her fingers closed around his arm and she pulled him onwards into the cover of the trees. He twisted around as a male scream pierced the air just in time to see a templar dragged to the dirt in his shiny armor.

That meant he wasn’t looking forward when Merrill dragged him right into a low-hanging branch. It whacked against his head with a worryingly hollow hunk that almost drove a laugh from his lips.

Irving always said his head was empty.

“Ooops!” Merrill chirped. “Sorry! Humans are just so tall.”

“I’ll be a lot shorter if you take my head off,” he huffed breathlessly as she dragged him onwards. Despite his height advantage, he very much felt like he needed to keep up with her as they raced into the forest.

Branches hit unprotected skin with the same sharp bite as a whip, snagged at his cloak and shirt. He barely had time to regret the mending he was going to have to do before Merrill bit off a sharp Elvhen oath and skidded to a stop.

The forest floor in front of them abruptly ended in the jagged edge of a cliff. Below them, nothing but a rocky ravine. Anders stood on the edge of the precipice, Merrill’s hand still latched on his arm, and the sound of clanking coming closer.

“There’s a way around.” She sounded so determined, so sure. “We need to-”

Her eyes blazed green as the ivy climbing up the ledges, reminded him of the brightness of the soft grass beneath his feet on the days they left Kirwall behind. The freedom of being out from behind the city walls, the blue sky above. Knowing he’d never be back in the circle again. There was some peace in that, even if the alternative was death for being an abomination.

In the grim tip of her pink lips, Anders could see the same grim reality on Merrill’s face. No matter what happened, she’d not be taken alive either. No use for a blood mage in a proper, respectable circle.

“No.” His tongue darted out to lick at his lips and he felt Justice’s power crackle beneath his skin. “I think we’re trapped like nugs in a sewer.”

“I do like nugs,” Merrill murmured, already sliding into a stance prepared to attack and defend. “And you do like sewers.”

“I do not!” he protested quickly.

It was the last thing he said before the templars burst into view and they had no choice but to fight for their lives. A blast of energy from him sent them skittering backwards like iron-clad beetles into Merrill’s vines, but they kept coming like roaches ready to feed on their corpses.

Sweat dripped down his forehead and burned in his eyes. Lightning sizzled, ozone around him crackled. Beside him he heard Merrill’s staff thunk against metal, heard the distant scream of another templar being toppled over the cliff behind them.

Then a blade appeared in the corner of his vision and he lashed out with his staff, catching it in the enchanted wood. He grunted, forcing the other man back with all his wiry strength.

He never saw the silence coming.

It hit him like a fist, dropped him like a punch in the stomach. His vision swam, his ears popped. Anders scrambled to reach for the last vestiges of his mana, but it was gone, gone. Justice, his magic, the noise of battle, everything was fading.

Above him a blade shimmered in the afternoon sun, piercing the clouds. Anders’ heartbeat thudded in his throat, his fingertips. He counted the remaining beats, wondered how long it would take to count the very last one.

Would he even feel the very last one?

A shrill scream. Then something sizzling. The smell of iron and the splash of something warm against his face.

Then screams. So many screams. His heart thudded uncomfortably and he looked around as men began to drop. They clawed at their eyes and began to utter prayers to Andraste, the Maker, anyone to save them. But their Maker went silent long ago and there’s nobody to save them from the blood bubbling over their lips.

A blood mage, after all, can’t be silenced. Maybe that’s the real reason the templars killed them on sight.

Merrill’s hand dug into his shoulder, pulling a fistful of feathers from his coat. “Anders! Anders get up!”

He staggered to his feet and reached blindly for Merrill’s hand. Their fingers twisted together and she pulled him upwards. He caught sight of blood dripping down her pale skin, the bright fury of her gaze.

And then they ran.

It took him far too long to realize there was too much blood. It slid down to where their fingers were entwined, dripped onto the ground. Merrill started to weave and stagger before she slumped against him.

Only then did he notice the horrific gash in her thigh, through the thin leggings she wore. He caught her in his arms and held her to his chest as her eyes fluttered closed over her pale cheeks, vallaslin stark on her cheekbones.

“Oh don’t you dare,” Anders rasped, slowly lowering her to the ground. “I swear on Andraste’s dirtiest knickers, if you make me go tell Hawke I got you killed…”

“It… it’s not so bad,” Merrill insisted, a bold statement considering the sheer amount of blood soaking her clothes. Anders tried to summon mana to his fingertips, only to come up heart wrenchingly short.

He had nothing. Nothing. And Merrill… Merrill needed healing. Merrill needed healing or else…

“Anders-” she whispered.

He tugged his cloak from his shoulders. “Where’s your knife?”

“Anders, it’s okay. Hardly hurts at all.”

“That’s cause you’re going into shock.” He pried her blade from her hand and sliced a long strip from his cloak. “You’re not stupid enough to cut into your own artery are you?”

“Templar,” she murmured quietly.

A templar blade to her unguarded leg, probably at the same time he got hit with the silence. And yet she used that blood to bring them all to their knees. Anders didn’t know whether he really disapproved.

Merrill’s eyes shut, her chest rose and fell shallowly. He quickly tied the makeshift tourniquet around her thigh, watching her face. “Merrill! Merrill, you gotta stay with me. Talk to me.”

They fluttered open one last time, fixed on the clouds above them. A small, soft smile graced her lips just before unconsciousness claimed her.

Anders thought he knew all the iterations of silence, the way it settled in your bones and drove you slowly insane. The way it haunted you, the way it comforted you. But he had never heard silence like this before. Silence so pristine he heard his own heart begin to fracture as his fingers flew to try and staunch the bleeding that continued with each faint beat of Merrill’s own.

If she survived, he would never complain about her talking ever again.

#manka writes #dadrunkwriting #anders #merrill #templars #blood magic

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tummyachesandchocolatecakes · 4 years

Text

The nugget stuffing

I wrote this one yesterday and it’s been sitting in my drafts ready to post, hope you like

Eliana couldn’t get the memory of the shop assistant out of her head when she told her that all this food was for her. She was buying food for her latest livestream, and apparently it’s not normal to buy 5 large bags of frozen nuggets just for yourself, who knew!

El began setting up her camera and backdrop for today’s video, chicken nuggets stuffing had been the top request on her latest poll. The nuggets sat in 3 huge see through glass bowls beside her. She adjusted her bra and knickers one last time before loging in. She could see 27 users already in the waiting room for the video. For her that was a lot as she’d only been doing this a short time. The time hit 8:30 and El turned on the camera.

“Well hello there my viewers! How are we all today? Lots of familiar names logged in, I see you! As usual thank you for all the love and support! Now it’s time to get into the nugs!”

El stood up so her full body was in view.

“As you can see, my stomachs pretty flat right now. I mean it’s still pudgy,” she poked her belly and gave it a little wiggle, “ but it’s got plenty of room! So let’s go!”

El pulled the first bowl of nuggets towards her, having a sneaky look at the comments being posted. So far all very impressed, all ready for the show.

Raising the first nugget to her lips she took a bite, licking her lips seductively at the camera.

“Mmmmm these are some good nugs!”

She began eating them whole, putting nugget after nugget into her mouth.

“Oh my god these are good. My big old belly is crying out for more”

She ate more nuggets, getting a third of the way through the first bowl before stopping. She could feel her stomach telling her that actually she was pretty damn full right now. She turned side on to the camera.

“Look at this belly, starting to bloat our already.” She ran her hands over the bulge at the top of her abdomen where her stomach was filled with food. She rubbed it for a few minute, groaning unnecessarily but it pleased her audience.

She picked up the bowl and quickly finished off the rest of them.

“Well that’s one bowl down, two to go!” El smiles cheekily into the camera, again rubbing her belly.

She really was feeling stuffed now, beyond full. Her stomach was beginning to ache.

“Ugh guys, my poor belly isn’t feeling great already! I wish you were here to rub it for me and help me with this challenge!”

As expected this caused an increase in comments users all expressing their wishes to rub her belly for her. She looked at her tummy, it was pretty damn swollen at the top but not much different to normal lower down. If she was going to finish this challenge then she needed the food to move through her a bit. She spent a few more minutes massaging her gorged gut, adding in some belly button play for one of her regulars. It wasn’t her cup of tea but he tipped well so she didn’t mind.

“Here we go” she said after her brief pause. Her belly still felt full and achey but these people were paying to see her stuff herself to the brim and that’s what they’d get.

As El dug into the second bowl her stomach began to stretch out further, desperately trying to accommodate the onslaught of nuggets. She stopped every three or four nuggets to give herself a belly massage as her gut struggled with all the food.

“Guys I am really feeling this today,” El said to the camera, eager for a brief break. Her stomach hurt a lot, it was actually getting a bit hard to breath because her stomach was so jam packed. Looking down at the bowl though, El realised there was only 5 nuggets left.

“Okay my lovely viewers, these 5 as fast as I can, then a break for some much needed tummy TLC”

Grabbing the nuggets she shoved them into her mouth one after another without stopping. When the last one was swallowed she took in a deep breath. Holy shit her belly hurt. Resting her palms over her stomach it was clearly distended and solid as a rock.

“Oh man I do not feel too good.” She ran her hands over and over her tummy, though it wasn’t actually helping at all. “I need to lie down for a bit.”

El placed herself on her strategically placed love seat and lay back, groaning in pain and pleasure at the weight of the food clogging up her stomach.

Groaning and whimpering she lay there, massaging her drum tight tummy.

“I don’t know if I’m going to manage anymore food,” she groaned. As much pain and discomfort as she was in, she knew she’d be eating the third bowl. However it seemed to turn her customers on to encourage to her stuff herself more so she cheekily teased them with “oh but my belly hurts” and “no I couldn’t possibly fit anything else into my tummy it’s so sore and full” before finally going for the third bowl. The fake reluctance had given her stomach enough time to get to work with digesting the food, she could feel it moving through into her intestines. Dragging the bowl towards her she decided to eat the last bowl laying down.

Each nugget got harder to eat. Her stomach had really had enough this time. She was in pain. Actual proper pain. Each swallow was thicker and harder than the one before, and 3/4 of the way into the bowl she knew she had reached her final limit. She swallowed the mouthful of nugget and it went down her throat only to stop in what felt like her chest. The nuggets were piled almost out of her stomach into her oesophagus, sitting as solid and unmoving as rocks.

“Guys” she hiccuped, causing a gag and nugget to reappear into her mouth. She swallowed it down with a grimace, “ I’m done. I cannot...” BURP “possibly eat anymore” ... BURPPP.

She rubbed her tummy gently, but even that movement caused her to feel like puking, so she decided to massage her intestinal area instead to keep things moving. Laying on the sofe she continued to film herself for a while, some of her viewers were only here for the aftermath.

“Oh my belly...it hurts so bad...*gag* oh god I’m gonna puke...ugh my poor tummy.... please I need someone to help me rub it better...oh my god it’s hurting.... I don’t feel good”

She went on like this for a while, giving her viewers time to finish themselves off, before giving her usual closing line.

“I’ve got to go, I need to puke or shit or just be in agony. See you guy’s same time next week.” And with that she ended the live stream.

Collapsing back into her chair El wrapped her arms around her huge gut, rocking back and forth with the pain and cramps. But through all the pain she could feel her vagina tingling excitedly at how full she was. She rubbed her upset belly aggressively, making it churn and gurgle sickly, in turn increasing her arousal. Her viewers had had their fun enjoying her bad belly ache, now it was hers.

#stuffing #tummy stuffing #belly kink writing #stuffing kink #belly aches

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fantasmalforces · 3 years

Text

// Did I say 3? Oops- I meant four-

// Here are the concepts I have so far under the cut-

Known as The Wandering Wolves

Lira - Dwarf, the leader of the group, big defender with a big shield and sharp sword. Very loud personality. Rides a big brown horse named Bronze. Hates bears after being chased by five of them for a whole day. Travels with a Fennec that mostly sits around her neck named Scav. Earth themes. Lithe and muscly, high jumper. Very fast, flexible, and limber. Have fun trying to catch her. Loves leading the pack to new places, discovering new things, making maps, and getting into new adventures. Also somewhat of fashion, design, and history buff. 4’7”.

Venta - Elf mage and bard. Created her own school of magic from studies of scavenged and “borrowed” books from Irrora. Travels with a nug named Nimblet that likes to stay in her pocket. Healer mostly, but can also dish out long range magic attacks and use a bow well. Has a fairly lean and graceful body/gait. Not very strong but a skilled hunter. Very spoken and somewhat shy but very sweet. Fearful of the world beyond nature. A little naive. Rides a pale yellow horse named Gold. Loves cooking, making music, and reading. Wind theme. 6’

Lustra - Qunari; the big damage dealer of the bunch. Absolute beefcake woman. Enough muscles for ten men. Warhammer and battle axes for days. Glorious horns. Rides a huge red horse named Copper. Has a hyena with her named Carrion (can call a pack of them to help her fight if there are any others nearby). 7’10”. Acts as the big body guard or “persuader” of the group. Very jokey and good humored but knows when to get serious. Protective. Loves combat, weapon making, and tool maintenance. Fire theme.

Irrora - Human. Seasoned Rogue. Cunning, stealthy, always in the know. Former noble that became a mercenary for a while (namely assassin) so she knows how to play sides and blend in with disguises. Rides a grey horse named Silver. Has a raven on her shoulder all the time named Arvid, uses him to scout places for information and goodies. Self-assured, rational, analytical, and well informed always. Mostly a daggers and crossbow type. Poison proficient. Humble thief when she needs to be but mostly a good haggler and resourceful scavenger. Loves tinkering and inventing. Water theme. Loves the rain. 5’6”.

They live with and sometimes travel with a large band of wolves which they’ve learned to communicate with and control, hence their name. The pack protects them, keeps them warm, and helps them gather resources and intel they might need as they travel. They protect the pack and give them a safe place to stay. Their home den is somewhere deep in the forests at the foot of some mountains behind a waterfall but they rarely stay there for more than a couple weeks. They like being on the move. They have a mixed reputation. Some seek them out hoping that they can help with wildlife or hunting troubles, others say they’re the reason for wildlife troubles. They rarely tend to travel as merchants or mercenaries for hire but due to their mixed reputation, they often travel through nature and the wild to avoid trouble.

They don’t always travel with the wolves. Usually the pack will only be with them at certain times of the day or if they’re wandering through areas close to home. If they’re traveling far from home, it’s very rare to see them with the pack.

They’re very protective of their home territory and the forest around their den is protected with an abundance of wild magic created by Venta.

Rumors that they howl with the wolves. (Sometimes.)

Rumors that they are werewolves or can turn into wolves through some sort of strange magic. (False, though Lira does somewhat act like a wild wolf sometimes.)

#// ooc

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legisaskerator · 4 years

Text

vent sorry I can’t read more on mobile idk how

fjsksksjfldksk. I’ve been so depressed for the past few days and it’s got me pretty messed up but I feel like I shouldn’t be?? like that’s SO dumb I have so many reasons to be falling right now. but like it’s so expected to be sad and anxious right now I feel like I shouldn’t be for some reason, that I should just be getting on with it or like everyone else is depressed so it just doesn’t matter, idk. But I’ve just been feeling so awful and it isn’t even the election really at all it’s everything else

My car is fucking up AGAIN, mostly. I just got it back last week and the second day I was driving it the fucking error message came back up, the same one I got before. Something with my transmission. Moms boyfriend is a good mechanic so he’s been dealing with it but it’s so stressful cause I can’t afford parts at all, this is an 06 BMW that I didn’t ask for but was given to me when I needed a car and, it’s so expensive to repair. Last time the parts came to $400 and mom didn’t let me pay because they knew I couldn’t handle it right now but it’s so frustrating to have this keep happening, like ffs I’m not doing anything WRONG I’m literally not it’s just falling apart

Not to mention I really really wish my boyfriend would get a job :/ like we’re not struggling it’s not something I hold against him. I understand why he doesn’t have one, his skills are really specific and like he needs a job where he’ll be making more than unemployment gives. This man is SO talented and smart, had govt. clearance for a while for a previous job so I know he really just can’t take any old job out there, he truly needs something in his field at this point. His primary workplace shut down early in COVID and he’s been looking for months, but there’s nothing in our area. And his car is unregistered due to bullshit with the town so he’s been trying to fix that too, and it’s all sorts of frustrating for ME because I hate seeing him at home alone all day sitting on the computer doing nothing. I have to ask him to do dishes and take the trash out and i feel like I shouldn’t have to?? The trash has been full for three days now and I physically can’t bring it down two flights of stairs so I can’t help with that. But I clean around the house, I do everything that isn’t dishes trash or laundry!!! Half the time when I come home it’s not done or only half done or he’s just starting it and...man....I feel shitty but I don’t ask a lot, and I work 22 hours a week so the very least he could do when he’s home every second of the day would be to just....do the few things? I know he’s depressed, though, not leaving the house so much. But he could!! I offer for us to play Pokémon go or do things and a fair amount of the time he’d rather stay home. I just really want him to be happier, more fulfilled, cause I know he’s not. I love him with every atom in me, I just want his life to be able to get back on the track he wants it on. He’s talked about getting a bartending license which I support but that’s $500 for classes right before winter, before Christmas, If there’s going to be an emergency when we need a lot of cash I feel like December-March is that time y’know?? Emergency heating or shit idk I’m just worried, and also where would he even bar tend bars shouldn’t be open!!! What if he gets sick!!!!

Another thing that’s bugging me is that I worry he’s been smoking too much weed....now I’m not anti weed I’m quite the stoner myself, but we’ve been going through our supply faster and it’s stressing me out. I’ve been trying really hard to keep my usage levels down to save money, right? So this 1/8th I decided only three small bowls a day to make SURE it lasts longer. And yet!! It was gone in four days. His bowl is kind of big and every time I suggest maybe he get a smaller one, he gets offended cause he’s had the same bowl since he started and doesn’t want a new one. Like I get the sentimentality but it’s huge and I hear him at 3am packing it when I’ve been in bed for hours. We had one big nug yesterday when I left for work and when I came back it was gone. He claimed he only had one bowl but I really have no idea how the whole thin could have gone into one bowl like seriously. I don’t want to talk to him about it because it seems petty but he’s always saying we smoke too fast and at this point I don’t think it’s my fault. But idk. My bowl is like 1/2 the size of his, maybe smaller. How am I supposed to deal with this? It’s so petty and shouldn’t be important but, alas, here I am stressing over it. I think if he gets a job he’ll smoke less (cause he’ll at least be out of the house) which is another reason why I don’t want to bug him about it. I understand his situation, we literally live together. I just wish it wasn’t happening :///

anyway yeah two days of brain static have been really rough and I’ve been ruminating really badly, it’s good to get these thoughts out of my brain. I double dozed NyQuil so I’m just waiting to be knocked out at this point

#vent #I love my boyfriend don’t get me wrong I want to marry him #these are all very minor issues I’m just easily upset and need to get over it

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darlingrutherford · 5 years

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how does alistair propose to lana? :3 in canon first and foremost, but if it's cool, modern au as well? :D

Modern au I’ll post later, but in the meantime, here’s canon! :3

The sky was a swirl of pink and white as the air began to cool with the setting of the sun. From the hill they sat on, Alistair could just make out the forms of a pack of nugs as they scurried into brush to ready for the night while birds made their last rounds in the sky. It had been years since they ended the Blight. Years of Lana tirelessly working as Warden-Commander of Ferelden, of Alistair loyally standing at her side in constant support as he watched her settle into the confidant woman he had always seen hiding behind her past. The years had forced them apart at times, never longer than they could stand, and always returning to one another with eager embraces. They never found a need for a reminder of why they loved one another. Here, sitting on the hill in a rare moment of peace and quiet, legs pressed against one another as they fiddled with wildflowers, they had all the reasons they would ever need.

Alistair looked down at his hands as he fumbled with the picked flowers. They had done this before, made a habit of it when they had time alone, just the two of them - braiding wildflowers wherever they sat together, a way of giving Lana something to busy her hands with that didn't involve her post. Alistair smiled as he glanced at hers, not perfect by any means but still miles better than his ever were. He had accused her of practicing while he had been gone, unable to hide his grin as she scolded him for such a thought. She had perfected the shape, though, connecting the loops at just the right intervals now to fit his head perfectly once she was done.

“It must have been difficult,” Alistair commented, returning his eyes to the nearly finished crown in his hand. Wildflowers of pink and yellow weaved together haphazardly, mixing with bits of crystal grace he had picked along the way as they walked towards the hill.

“Hm?” Lana smiled as she turned her attention to him. Alistair felt a shiver run down his spine as the warmth from her gaze combatted the cooling of the day.

“When I was gone. It must have been difficult… Finding someone with the same size head as me to practice your crowns on.” Alistair grinned wildly as Lana shoved him at his shoulder with a scowl.

“It would have been impossible to find a warden in all of Ferelden with a skull as thick as yours,” she retorted.

“That why you send me off to do your dirty work? Because of my thick skull?” He teased. His fingers weaved in his last piece of crystal grace, and he turned the lopsided crown in his hands as if inspecting it.

“It is,” Lana sighed with a nod. “Although, you've gotten better as well, Alistair. I should be suspicious that you spent all your time finding someone with long enough ears to balance it correctly, instead of delivering that document.”

“Yes, there were loads of flowers and stems to practice on in Orzammar, not to mention elven women with ears as fine as yours,” he chuckled. Alistair watched as Lana continued working on the flowers in her hands. She was slower than him, spending more time carefully and thoughtfully constructing the crown. It was probably why hers always looked much tidier than his, he thought. But then, she always seemed to glow brighter than the setting sun whenever he placed hers on her head, even on the occasion he made it too big and it slid to become more of a necklace than a crown. As he waited for her to finish and for them to exchange, he stared at the green grass, picking nervously at the strands in front of him.

“Are you happy, Lana?” Alistair asked. He could see her smile in his peripheral, and he hummed in appreciation as she leaned just a little more against his side.

“Six years ago I would have never expected to become comfortable being Warden-Commander. It still feels strange sometimes, but having you at my side makes it infinitely easier.”

“I meant with us, but I should have known you're all work, work, work,” he sighed. He smiled as she laughed, holding the finished crown in front of her.

“I wouldn't make flower crowns for just any of my lovers,” she teased.

“Then I am a lucky man,” he said, grinning as she placed the crown on his head. She was getting better at it. He could feel it fit more snug than usual, not sliding even as he looked down to pick his from the ground. The first time she had shown him how, his had fallen apart when lifting it towards her head. That was years ago, and now he felt confident knowing that, though lopsided and weighed with too many flowers, it would hold. His heart swelled as he placed the crown on her. It sat on the parietal of her head, balancing on the tip of her ears as it threatened to slip from the weight of the flowers. But still, she glowed, smiling from ear to ear as her cheeks blushed just as red as the first time, the flowers so out of place with their scratched up armor. Maker, but she was perfect.

“Marry me. Right now. Right here.” The words left Alistair as more of a mumble than anything. Rare were the moments he became nervous around her these days, but suddenly he found the request more terrifying to ask than fighting a horde of darkspawn alone. Lana had frozen, her eyes still locked to his as the red spread from her cheeks and filled her ears to the tips.

“But there's… There's no one here to marry us,” she said. She bit at her lower lip, unable to contain the smile that grew on her face and caused his to grow in time.

“I don't care,” Alistair said. He took her hands into his, thumbs caressing the back of her hands as his eyes traveled her image. “The Maker can be our witness. Or, that… That nug over there. I know it seems to be more interested in chewing on its foot, but that's… Beside the point. The point is, I love you, Lana. And I… I don't think I can stand one minute not being tied to you for eternity.”

“Oh, Alistair,” Lana sighed. She smiled as she slipped a hand from his to rest on his face. Her thumb drew gentle circles on his cheek as he leaned into her touch, eyes watching her with a determination and passion she had grown to know dearly. “The Maker knows I gave my heart and soul to you long ago. Surely, in His eyes, that bond can never be broken.”

Alistair pulled his arms around her, pressing his lips to hers as he held her close. The flowers from her crown pressed softly against his forehead, wrinkling where his fingers laced in the back of her hair. Being hers was the best decision he had ever made, that he was certain of. Each day he was allowed to hold her his heart would fill, and today he was almost certain would be the day it would finally burst. Maker, but he never wanted to be parted from her side again. Only for the most dire of situations would he allow it from then on, he decided. As his lips parted from hers, Alistair glanced to the side, squinting down the hill.

“Do you think that nug needs to sign anything?” Alistair asked, glancing around as he tried to locate the small creature.

“Alistair,” Lana laughed as she shook her head. She grabbed the collar of his padded armor, pulling him back down to her. And as his lips crashed to hers like a magnet that would never lose its way, he knew she was happy, and all he had ever wanted.

#Anonymous #alistair theirin #lana surana #alistair x warden #alistair x surana #lanistair #suranistair #dragon age #my ocs #fanfiction #my work

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deluxedolans · 6 years

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Grayson (sorry sis need to be fed) watching you get ready to go out with your friends and whining and making grabby hands at you so you go over and sit on the bed to do your makeup and he keeps trying to get you to take off your clothes so you cant leave him okay oll go now

omg, hi lil anonny💙 thank you so much for comin’ through!! i love feeding people because i am always starving (she’s a hungry bitch)

dude, i was talking to katie about this the other day when I got this ask!!

edit: this was supposed to be a concept, but it turned into a blurb. anon, your concept was so powerful!!!

like say you were getting ready for a girl’s night and grayson is watching you get ready. as we all know, homeboy is clingy as HELL and loves to be in close proximity to his lady.

you finish blending in the smokey colors of your eye shadow as you sit at your desk, the brush moving back and forth across your eyelids. grayson watches quietly as he sits on the edge of the bed observing you with a pout on his face, sad you’re leaving him, even if it’s only for a few hours.

grayson is upset that he doesn’t get to show off how beautiful you are to the bar you’ll be going to. so as you’re getting ready, the whole time grayson is hanging off you like a little a whiney little kid who doesn’t want to be left with a babysitter while his parents go out. grayson is kissing your face, digging his fingers into your sides trying to distract you from getting ready.

“gray, oh my god, can you stop? laura said the uber is gonna be here in 15 minutes and i’m not done getting ready.” you giggled, trying to push your boyfriend’s lips away from your neck as he pressed little pecks around your pulse-point.

“no. i don’t want you to goooooo. c’mon, babe, don’t leave me. we can have a movie night in bed, we’d be s’cozy,” grayson mumbled against your neck, the vibrations from his voice tickling you even more.

you threw your head back in laughter as grayson pulled the collar of your shirt off to the side, pressing heated kisses along your collar bone. “gray, i’ve gotta go, babe, we can snuggle when I’m home, I promise.”

pointedly ignored you as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you out of your chair onto the floor so you guys could have a make-out session. “grayson!” you laughed, pressing your hands into his chest in an attempt to wriggle away from your muscular boyfriend. “it’s laura’s birthday, i have to go!”

“tell her you’re busy … for the rest of your life,” grayson chuckled as you two playfully wrestled on the carpet, his large hands splayed across your back in an attempt to keep you pressed to his body.

“i’ll be home by 1, gray! baby, i have to go–,” your body twisting and turning in his grasp as you tried to make your escape.

“not getting away that easy, sweetheart. how could you leave me–in–in this state?” grayson whined, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

“what state?! you mean the one where you want me all to yourself for a night because you’re being a baby?” grayson’s chuckle rang out heartily at your accusation, the accuracy of your statement cracking him up.

as you continued to wiggle grayson eventually ended up taking your wrists in his hands, flipping the two of you over so he was on top. grayson leaned over you, pinning your wrists above your head, the two of you breathing heavily as you stared into each other’s eyes.

you stopped fighting grayson as soon as he was on top of you, the pressure of his body and the mesmerizing colors of his eyes distracting you completely from the situation at hand.

“give up, sweetheart?” grayson smirked, the hand that was holding your wrists rubbing circles on the skin softly.

“well, i’m in a bit of a pickle. not sure if you’re aware, but you’re almost twice my weight!” you sassed, a joking pout painted across your face.

“Y/N, the uber is two minutes away!” laura called from down the hall, most likely putting the finishing touches on her own makeup.

“that’s my cue, baby.” grayson let your wrists go, but still didn’t get off of you, keeping you trapped between his legs.

“can i pick you guys up from the bar? just wanna make sure you get home safe.” grayson scooped his arms underneath your back so you were tucked into his chest. “’’just get nervous for you, don’t want anyone taking advantage of you, or anything bad happening cause i’m not there.” grayson swallowed thickly awaiting your reply; he really hoped you wouldn’t think he was being annoying or overbearing for asking to get you at the end of the night.

grayson knew he was acting like a child in trying to keep y/n home, but at the end of the day, she was the love of his life, and any time spent without her left his heart deflated. the more grayson thought about y/n going out for a night on the town without him, the more his nerves kicked in about some creep trying to kidnap her, or her getting too drunk and ending up passed out in an alleyway; there were too many variables. it wasn’t that grayson didn’t trust you, or that he was trying to take you away from your friends, he was just fiercely protective of those he loved, always wanting to make sure their safety was ensured above all else. grayson’s heart began to race as he analyzed his words, hoping that you didn’t think he was being jealous or possessive.

you let out a sigh as your heart swelled; your boyfriend was hands down the definition of big teddy bear. grayson was the type of man who would not hesitate to knock out any guy who looked at his girl wrong. however, grayson was also the type of man who preferred giggling his heart out with his girl over any other activity; laying together with limbs intertwined beneath their fluffy cave made of covers, sheets, and blankets.

“i’ll be safe, gray. girls travel in packs, remember? you roast us for it all the time.” you said, gripping grayson’s face in your hands, rubbing your thumbs over his cheeks delicately. “i’m always down for my mans to come pick me up.”

grayson smiled, his insecurities relieved at your response. “i’ll also pick you up nuggets, if you want?” his grin widening as he saw your eyes light up.

“thank god i cuffed you, who else would know that i all i need at 1 am is snugs and nugs?”

“y/n, the uber is here!”

“love you, baby, be safe. text me when you’re ready for me to come scoop,” grayson pressed a few kisses to your lips before rolling off of you.

when you stood up to your full height, with your body and outfit on full display, grayson whistled loudly, his arms moving behind his head as he continued to admire you from his position on the floor. “you look s’fuckin’ good, babe. don’t forget who you belong to.” grayson smirked, his biceps which propped up his head as bulging as his eyes raked over your body.

“sorry, what’s your name again?” you asked before running out of the room, your heels clacking along the hardwood as you ran away from grayson. naturally, grayson chased after you with his arms outstretched playfully. both of your giggles echoed down the hallway, your love for one another ringing throughout the house like a gong as you two embraced before you parted ways for the next few hours.

#grayson dolan #ethan dolan #grayson dolan blurb #ethan dolan blurb #grayson dolan drabble #ethan dolan drabble #grayson dolan imagine #ethan dolan imagine #ethan dolan fluff #grayson dolan fluff #grayson dolan fanfiction #ethan dolan fanfiction #grayson dolan fanfic #ethan dolan fanfic #dolan twins #dolan twins imagine #dolan twins drabble #dolan twins blurb #asks

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cakelanguage · 5 years

Text

Can you believe it? I’m not dead and I’m updating the “Dorian as a young boy” fic that I’ve been neglecting for God knows how long. But chapter 5 is finally here!

First//Previous//Next

You can also read it on AO3

~~~~

While going with the Herald and his party was the safer option, Dorian felt dread trail his steps. As they moved further from Redcliffe, so did Dorian’s bit of safety. The insurance that at least Felix would treat him right and not as if he were a speck of dirt or a snake slithering by were getting slimmer and slimmer with each passing moment. Out here he was going to have to fend for himself.

Not that he hadn’t been fending for himself since he left Tevinter. He’d gotten here in one piece, though he’d lost quite a bit to get here. He was well in-tuned with the loss of gold that had pressed against his chest for the majority of his life. It wasn’t big in the grand scheme of things, especially if it meant he could help Felix, but he still privately mourned the loss of his birthright.

If he lost his birthright to get here, what else was he going to have to give up now that he was out of Redcliffe without Felix to help him? While the Chantry sisters barely tolerated him, they did give him small portions of food when he’d looked “particularly pitiful,” as one of the sisters would point out. Felix himself would always try to sneak food that he could without arousing suspicion. Would the Herald and his party do the same? They had agreed to let him come with them at Felix's request but he didn't know if he could trust their word.

“You’re thinking pretty loudly back there, kiddo,” Varric commented, slowing his pace to walk beside him. He actually was only a few inches shorter than Dorian was and he longed for puberty to give his height a well-deserved boost. “Care to share?”

Dorian worried his bottom lip between his teeth, shaking his head. “Nothing important,” Dorian replied.

Varric shook his head. “Kiddo, I’d like to say everyone here believes you,” the dwarf sighed, “but right now we don’t. We don’t have all the information and we’re running off the inconsistencies between Grand Enchanter Fiona’s offer and the mage rebellions current status and the word of two Altuses who are willingly going against a Magister, who happens to be one of said Altuses’ father.” Varric’s mouth quirked up in a sheepish smile. “It’s a little hard to believe.”

“So think of myself as insurance that if one of us were lying you have recompense.”

Varric looked at him sharply. “Hey, no kiddo, just wanted you to share what was going on in that head of yours.”

Dorian was silent for a moment as he thought of what to say. Should he lie and make up something? Or should he just be forthright with his feelings on what was going on? Lying probably wouldn't do him any good besides create a mask that he doubted he could keep up for long.

He sighed. “I was thinking about the fact that I’m leaving the last place I had any insurance of kindness.” When Varric didn’t say anything he took it as a nudge to continue. “I left my home, gave up something I never thought I’d have to in order to get here, and I was… sad to leave my country.” He let out a humorless chuckle. “I don’t expect you to understand. Tevinter is horrible how it is now, I’ll be the first to admit that. There isn’t enough acceptance, too much deceit hiding under honeyed tongues, and the slavery- don’t get me started on how awful that is. And no one’s doing anything or done anything about it. And Father always tells me that my beliefs would get me killed and that I will grow to accept it, but I haven’t.” He took a deep breath to halt his potential tirade. “But it is still my home, and I miss it.”

“No one is going to fault you for missing home. Hell, I miss Kirkwall and that place is sometimes like a steaming pile of nug shit.”

Dorian actually laughed at that. “Of course they will! They’ll think ‘of course he misses Tevinter, misses the slaves, the pampering, what a spoiled little snake!’ But I can handle missing home, that longing doesn’t come up often.” He sighed again. “But I had Felix back in Redcliffe, even if it was for only short spans of time when he could sneak away. But it was freely offered kindness and love that I had to leave behind.” He hiked his pack up on his back. “That is what I was thinking about.”

Varric didn't say anything more but he did clap Dorian on the shoulder giving it a squeeze before the dwarf let his arm fall back to his side.

“You both okay back there?” the Herald called back to them, a playful smirk playing at his features. “You're looking awfully serious.”

“Don't worry about it your Heraldness,” Varric said lightly.

“Now I’m worried,” the only woman in the party said.

The Herald waved his hand. “I trust Varric, Cassandra. If Varric says it was nothing then I believe him.”

Varric grinned. “At least someone in this party trusts me.”

The booming laugh from ‘Bull’ made Dorian jump. “Awe Varric, I trust you as much as I trust Rocky, you're fine.”

“Isn't he the one who blew up-"

“Yup,” ‘Bull’ interrupted proudly.

Dorian listened to them banter good-naturedly with each other with a detached longing. He had never really made any friends in the Circles, always too smart or just too much. He had never regretted not being able to before, he had Felix and Alexius and Rilienius when the man would indulge in hanging out with him. He even had Maevaris who was a delight when it came to discussing fashion and makeup; she was the one who suggested the kohl around his eyes to make him appear a little older. But he didn't have this easy banter, this camaraderie and it suddenly made him feel bereft of something special.

“-Kid? You still with us or did you go to the fade?”

Dorian came back to the present to Varric’s hand waving in his face. He shook his head to clear the fog of his thoughts, he could think later. “Yes, sorry,” he said. “What was it you were asking?”

“I thought it’d do us some good to actually introduce ourselves since we kinda jumped over that portion of our meeting.” the Herald said sheepishly.

Dorian stared for a moment before nodding his head. “That’s true, it would help if I knew all of your names.”

The Herald clapped his hands excitedly, like a child. “Excellent! I’ll go first, the names Aeren. Just call me Aeren, everyone else just calls me the Herald unfortunately.” He pointed his finger at the woman next, his grin never faltering even when the woman was giving him an icy glare.

The woman scoffed before leveling that stare on Dorian. He felt like he was about to be scolded by his mother when that look was directed at him. “Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast,” Cassandra said shortly.

Dorian's eyes widened and he clenched his teeth together to stop his jaw from dropping. “A Seeker? I haven't met a Seeker before, what do you-"

“Don't,” Cassandra interrupted.

Dorian wanted to insist and keep asking questions but held his tongue, instead just giving her a nod.

Varric elbowed him playfully. “You might already know my name, but I'm Varric,” Varric said with a smile which Dorian found himself reciprocating. He liked the dwarf, and could see them becoming friends. “Nice to meet you, kiddo.”

Dorian fought the urge to pout and instead playfully bumped the dwarf's shoulder with his own. “I’m nearly fourteen,” he insisted.

Varric shrugged. “Right now just about everyone out-ages you by ten years.”

Dorian huffed but he let himself sink into the banter.

The Tal-Vashoth cleared his throat, effectively halting Dorian’s lighthearted conversation. “I’m the Iron Bull, leader of Bull’s Chargers,” Iron Bull said evenly,

“‘The Iron Bull?” Dorian asked.

Aeren laughed. “The ‘the’ is important to remember.”

Dorian felt even more confused by that response. Why include the article in his name?

He must have said that aloud or the qunari was very good at reading people because he went on to explain. “The article makes it seem like I’m an object or a tool, not smart enough to do a lot of things. Makes business boom for my company.”

“That's actually very smart,” Dorian commented.

The Iron Bull snorted and shot him a smirk. “Not expecting a Qunari to be smart?”

Dorian shook his head. “The Qunari are matching the best of Tevinter,” Perhaps beating some of the best of Tevinter, “they, and subsequently you, are intelligent. I’m not so stooped in Tevinter’s ideals to think that you are all stupid beasts.” Although Dorian can’t deny he’s still uneasy around the Qunari.

The Iron Bull made a humming noise but didn’t say anything else to him on the subject.

Battling with the Herald and his party was… an experience. Aeren himself was a force to be reckoned with. He hefted twin axes around with an otherworldly grace, cutting through darkspawn and wild animals alike. Aeren also didn’t seem to care about getting dirty as he did nothing to wipe away the grim and blood that splashed across his body and face. No one should look that good with blood splattering their face and Dorian had a newfound appreciation for the way the Herald’s blood-stained face would quirk up in a grin when he found something amusing.

Damn hormones.

Cassandra was a powerhouse that seemed to withstand every blow that was inflicted on her and then dealt back the same damage. She had no problem standing her ground in the face of any adversary and didn’t hold back her blows. Though she had a tendency to make sure she covered the Herald’s back at every turn. Dorian felt a bit awed by her attacks. So this was just a taste of a Seeker's power.

Varric, for all his jokes and talk of being a simple storyteller, must have the eyes of a hawk based on his accuracy with Bianca. Dorian thought he himself was excellent at accuracy when it came to his spellcasting, but he felt like an absolute novice after he’d seen Varric literally do a flip before firing off two shots consecutively. Varric provided great support on the field that he, and he assumed everyone else, was thoroughly thankful for.

And then there was the Iron Bull.

A force of nature, with raging battle cries and heavy swings of his axe sinking into the flesh of every enemy they came across. Dorian definitely could see what some of his countryman were talking about when mentioning the raw power Qunari possessed. But the Iron Bull also had an almost childlike excitement when it came to battling literally anything. It was almost endearing to see the excited grin and booming laugh the Qunari would let out after a successful battle.

The only problem was that the Qunari seemed to make sure Dorian was put safely out of harm's way. More than once, he’d been picked up by the collar and put safely behind the warrior. Which was all well and good and perhaps he’d be thankful if he actually needed it.

Which he very much didn’t.

It was insulting to be underestimated like he was. As if his title meant nothing, his skills meant nothing. For Maker’s sake, he was nearly an Enchanter, well on his way to officially receiving that title and that meant absolute shit to the Iron Bull. Was he supposed to feel thankful? Being protected like he was a helpless child, a mage still training for their harrowing having to be protected when faced with real combat.

He shouldn’t feel this upset about it. He was providing good support with his shields and healing the party when they needed it, but he still felt upset. Maybe he was just feeling stressed out by the unfamiliar environment. Maybe it was because he was alone and he felt like he needed to prove himself to the Herald and his party and yet he wasn’t being given the chance. No matter how much he told himself that they were doing it for his own good, the frustrated feeling grew larger making his lips purse into a thin line.

When it happened for the fifth time, Dorian had to resist from stamping his foot on the ground. He observed the battle going on in front of him, at everyone fighting against the foes who’d chosen to attack their party. He wasn’t going to let himself be shuffled to the background any longer. Carefully channeling the power through his body, planting his feet firmly on the ground to act as further grounding for the storm magic he felt crackle through his body. The familiar crackle of electricity gathered around him before he slammed his staff against the earth, releasing the chain lightning on the parties’ attackers.

The lightning arced from enemy to enemy and he watched with satisfaction as two enemies faltered and collapsed under the assault of the electricity. He followed it up with a fireball and a roar, channeling his frustrations through his attack.

Fire licked at the outlaw’s clothes, indiscriminately searing flesh and scorching armor. He blocked out as much of the cries of pain as he could, focusing on taking down the next target. Letting himself fall into the rhythm of battle that he’d grown used to since leaving the safety of his home, he kept casting.

He tried to stay out of reach of any of the men attacking their party, but when one got too close Dorian fade stepped away, extricating himself from the location and putting enough distance between them to let a bolt of storm magic strike his opponent.

It didn’t take long to defeat the group, especially with an additional fighter now that Dorian had joined the fight. He felt proud of himself, for entering the fray even with the Iron Bull’s overbearing protective streak attempting to keep him on the sidelines. Perhaps he’d finally acknowledge that he could take care of himself.

“Kid, you finally decided to join us,” the Iron Bull commented as he slung his axe back onto his back. “Was wondering when you were going to.”

Dorian gaped at the Qunari. “What do you mean?” Dorian asked, “You were the one making sure I had no opportunity to join the fight!”

The Iron Bull shrugged, scratching his head and smearing blood on his ear. “Figured you’d join eventually, thought I should cover you in-case you weren’t ready.”

“You saw me fighting all of those demons back at the Chantry in Redcliffe!” Dorian threw his hands up, squinting at the other man. “Did that mean nothing to you?”

“I think what Tiny’s saying is that he didn’t know if you were ready to fight people,” Varric interjected as he checked over Bianca for any damage.

Dorian crossed his arms “Of course I was ready.” He jumped as a sudden hand clapped his shoulder in a reassuring grip.

“In Bull’s defense, he was just looking out for you,” Aeren added warmly. “The big guy is hired as a bodyguard, so technically he’s just doing his job.”

“He’s your bodyguard,” Cassandra muttered with a roll of her eyes.

Varric waved his hand as if to knock that comment aside. “The point is, we didn’t mean to make you feel like we didn’t trust your abilities.”

Aeren nodded. “Yeah we just…”

Dorian raised an eyebrow. “You just didn’t trust my abilities.”

The Iron Bull snorted. “I guess you proved us wrong.” Dorian sniffed and gave him a look which only made the Iron Bull laugh. “I’ll try to tone it down, Dorian.”

“See that you do! I’m perfectly capable of taking on my fair share of enemies.”

Aeren breathed a sigh of relief and holstered his axes. “Thank goodness, maybe I can sit back and watch for a bit.”

Cassandra gave him a piercing look. “That’s not funny.”

The Herald’s head hung. “Worth a shot, I suppose.”

They crested over the mountain before Haven not three hours later. Dorian's feet ached in his boots and even with the warmer clothes that Felix had given him he felt like his bones were made of ice. He wasn't used to this sort of weather at all, not when the climate in Tevinter was always warm and just the slightest bit humid as you got closer to the coast. But he didn't bring this to anyone's attention, instead keeping his complaints about the weather to himself.

"Ah, there she is," Aeren said with a sigh of relief. At least Dorian could take comfort in the fact that he wasn't the only one who was tired from their long trek. "Welcome to Haven, Dorian."

If Dorian were being honest, Haven wasn't much. The tiny village if he could call it that had no more than ten houses with the Chantry taking center stage in the back. He could see how bustling it was and for the first time Dorian really thought about the panic and unrest that infected the masses when the Breach had appeared. These people had lost their Divine and the peace talks were in shambles after the destruction of the Conclave. They'd banded together to try and stop what was going on and others had joined to help. He didn't know if there had been any instances where Tevinter had done the same.

"We should be there soon," Varric said, carefully making his way down the steep slope. "Watch your step, it's easy to lose your footing with all this snow blocking our view."

Dorian nodded absentmindedly, switching his gaze from looking at the ground and what was in front of him.

Cassandra cleared her throat and Dorian turned his head to look at her. "Just so you are aware, a scout has already made the other advisors aware of our additional company," she informed, shifting the shield on her back to a more comfortable position. "I'm sure they'll want a full report from the Herald."

Aeren groaned loudly beside the Iron Bull. "I suppose they'll want to talk about the situation in Redcliffe."

Cassandra nodded her head. "To discover that the rebel mages have sided with Tevinter, especially after Grand Enchanter Fiona came to us to ask for our aid… well let's just say Commander Cullen and Leliana are most likely chomping at the bit to find out the details."

"Very well, I'll meet with them right away," Aeren said.

"I should be there as well," Dorian spoke up. "I know the details of what's going on."

"Which you told us," Aeren said turning his full attention to Dorian. "Unless you and Felix left something out when you were explaining the situation."

Dorian resisted the urge to flinch under Aeren's sudden hawk-like gaze. "N-no I did but I can clarify any confusion that might occur after your advisors hear about the situation."

"Somehow I doubt that will go over well with them," the Iron Bull commented.

"I know that for a fact," Cassandra said. "It would be best if after the meeting, if any of them had further questions, they could ask you, Dorian."

Dorian wanted to argue with Cassandra but held his tongue. He was still an outsider; for all they knew, he could still be gathering information- have an alternative motive that would cause disruption within the council. Dorian finally nodded his head and started thinking of ways to listen in on the meeting. It'd be highly suspicious behavior, however, he'd be able to hear what the Herald's advisors really thought about the situation in Redcliffe.

"Don't think too hard about it, kid," Varric reassured, clapping him on his back. "I can show you around, introduce you to the rest of the gang."

Dorian made a noise of affirmation and started planning how he was going to now sneak away from Varric of all people. "Perhaps it'd be best if I ate something first?" Dorian asked.

"I could go for a drink myself," Bull said. "Gotta get a report from my crew but then I could meet you at the tavern."

Dorian shifted awkwardly at the mention of the Iron Bull's crew. There were more Qunari here in Haven? "Your crew?"

Bull laughed. "The Iron Bull's Chargers. Bunch of assholes, but they're my assholes."

For some reason hearing Bull sound so jovial about his crew made Dorian feel more comfortable. But it didn't deter from the fact that Dorian now realized he had a small window of opportunity to get away from Varric and to the Herald's meeting with his advisors because once the Iron Bull joined them Dorian knew he wouldn't be getting away so easily.

Aeren clapped his hands. "So Cassandra and I'll be off to the Chantry for that simply delightful meeting that I'm so excited about attending, Bull is going to his Chargers and Varric and Dorian get to eat," his lip quivered as he turned towards Cassandra once more, "are you sure I can't at least get something to eat before this thing?"

Cassandra scoffed and Dorian wondered if it was Cassandra's default expression. "You should still have that goat jerky you purchased before we left the Hinterlands," she said.

"But Cassandra," Aeren drew out the vowels of her name in a whine, "that's emergency food in case we can't get some."

She gave him a blank look as they reached the end of the slope. "Seems you've found your emergency."

Dorian split his attention between listening to Varric point out different locations in Haven and taking in all the stares he was receiving from the village folk. He didn't look terribly different from them at first glance but Dorian could quickly see the differences. His clothes were a higher quality; having unnecessary decorative belts and bits of leather and fur while definitely Dorian's style, wasn't abundant in the people of Haven. It could also be the staff strapped against his back. Mages were still being oppressed and were always watched warily as if they were going to turn into demons at a moments notice.

Or they could tell he was from Tevinter, it could always be that. His safest bet was to stay close to Varric until he found an opportunity to leave and try and listen in on that meeting.

"-And that's the merchant here in Haven, he's an ass and jack's up his prices but he does have some good quality stuff if you can afford it. But if you ask me," Varric laughed and pointed back outside the gates, "just buy some schematics from Seggrit and take them to Harritt and have him make them. Takes a while to collect some materials but the Herald stops for elfroot every five minutes so you'll have plenty of time to get stuff."

Dorian's ears grew hot and he turned to look away from the dwarf. "I did notice Aeren's… affinity to collecting elfroot but I thought it might have been an elf thing."

"Are you kidding me? Every time he stops I can hear Sera's complaining and Solas looks physically pained."

"Well that's different."

"Different strokes for different folks. Guess plants don't get 'em going." Dorian snorted and shook his head. Talking to Varric was easy. "Now, you want to actually eat something?"

"Oh um- sure?" He needed to sneak away, but this was his chance. "But I have to… relieve myself first."

Varric snorted and shook his head. "Say no more, pretty sure there's a chamber pot in the tavern somewhere in the back. Or you could pick a tree."

Dorian forced his grin to look relaxed. "A tree sounds a bit better to me."

"Well I'll be in the tavern getting some grub, come join me when you're done." Varric patted him on the back and started walking away. "Gotta introduce you to Sera, she spends all her time there."

Dorian wasted no time before he was headed for the Chantry. He tried to look as calm and confident as he could manage, refusing to make eye contact with any of the people who might've been looking at him. He saw a livid looking Grand Chancellor speaking heatedly to a harried group of soldiers who looked like they wanted to be anywhere else.

"-it's bad enough that this Inquisition is allowing for the Divine's killer to walk around freely without even a slap on the wrist but to have the audacity to-"

Dorian blocked out the rest of the man's speech as he reached the large double doors. He felt oddly proud of himself, that he managed to get this far without any issues. Perhaps he had gotten lucky.

Shimmying in through the small space he created he made his way inside. It was dark and smelt heavily of musty paper, wax, and potpourri; exactly how the Chantry in Redcliffe had smelled. He hoped Felix was doing alright. He could almost see the teasing grin on his brother's face when they’d get up to mischief and his fake reprimands to appease Alexius while he gave Dorian a thumbs up once Alexius looked away. He missed Felix so much.

He confidently walked to the doors on the far wall. He knew that confidence fooled plenty of people that you knew exactly what you were doing and that you were supposed to do it. He did notice a woman dressed extravagantly in the finest fashion from Val Royeaux giving him detached curious looks but she didn't make any moves toward him so he counted it as a win.

Once he was at the door he absentmindedly leaned his head against the door, pressing his ear against the surface to try and hear what was going on. It was obvious he was listening in on the meeting but he hadn't thought of what he was going to do once he had gotten this far. And no one had stopped him yet. Perhaps his age for once might be an advantage rather than a hindrance and people would brush it off as a curious child.

Then again, he hadn’t recalled seeing anyone remotely his age since he’d entered Haven. He shoved his worries aside and pressed his ear harder against the door.

“-Either we find another way in, or give up this nonsense and go get the Templars,” A man argued. Dorian grimaced, he wasn’t liking how this was sounding.

“Redcliffe is in the hands of a Magister. This cannot be allowed to stand,” Cassandra said firmly.

“The letter from Alexius asked for the Herald of Andraste by name. It’s an obvious trap,” Another woman interjected, her voice heavily accented.

“I was actually wondering about that, why does he know my name?” Aeren asked. “Didn’t even think Magisters bothered to learn elves’s names.”

“Perhaps not in most cases, but you aren’t most elves,” The heavily accented woman said.

Aeren didn’t give a verbal response to that statement, instead letting out a sigh to show his displeasure. “Whatever, what’s important is coming to an agreement on this. We’re just wasting time fighting among ourselves.”

“A Tevinter controls Redcliffe, invites us to the castle to talk, and some of us want to do nothing.” This woman’s voice was accented as well, but this one he could place geographically. Those from Val Royeaux had a very distinct accent.

“Not this again,” the other woman muttered.

“It’s like I’m dealing with children,” Aeren mumbled. He must have been standing closest to the door because Dorian doubted he would have heard the elf otherwise.

“Redcliffe castle is one of the most defensible fortresses in Ferelden. It has repelled thousands of assaults,” the man stated simply before lowering his voice. “If you go in there, you’ll die. And we’ll lose the only means we have of closing these rifts. I won’t allow it.”

Dorian could understand the man’s hesitation especially with the fate of the rest of humanity relying on the Herald’s mark to close the rifts. That didn’t mean he agreed with the man though, especially with how quick the man was willing to cast the mages aside in favor of the Templars.

“And if we don’t even try to meet Alexius, we lose the mages and leave a hostile foreign power on our doorstep!” The Val Royeaux woman insisted. At least someone understood what was at stake if they ignored Alexius and cast aside the mages.

“Even if we could assault the keep, it would be for naught,” the accented woman spoke up again, “An ‘Orlesian’ Inquisition’s army marching into Ferelden would provoke a war. Our hands are tied.”

Cassandra didn’t seem to agree. “The Magister-”

“Has outplayed us,” the man said sternly.

Aeren seemed to be at his wits end with the discussion as he spoke up. “The Magister’s son, Felix, told me Alexius is in a cult that’s obsessed with me.” The Herald’s amusement was clear in his voice. “I doubt they’ll graciously receive our apologies and go about their business. Typically not how cults are usually run.” Dorian doubted Aeren knew much about what cults were really like, but his comment did seem to lessen the tension that was going on in the room the group was in.

“They’ll remain a threat, and a powerful one, unless we act,” the Val Royeaux woman plainly said.

Dorian was nodding his head at what he was hearing. Finally the meeting seemed to be on the right path to coming to a decision in the mages’s favor. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if the Inquisition decided that they would side with the Templars over the mages. Try to take Alexius down himself he supposed, try to wriggle himself back into Alexius’s favor to get the man’s defenses down so that he and Felix could take care of him.

He was stopped from his eavesdropping when a shadow loomed over him. For a moment his heart stopped and he wondered if it was the Iron Bull that’d found him somehow, but the shadow was much too slim to be the Qunari. He tilted his head up and met the gaze of the fashionable woman he’d seen near the front of the Chantry when he’d entered the building. She didn’t seem too interested in what he was doing, but Dorian didn’t believe that disinterest for a minute. He’d worn similar facial expressions at numerous parties he hadn’t wanted to go to until he’d discovered that he could slip away with Felix or Maevaris if he pretended he didn’t want to be there.

“And what are you doing all the way back here, child?” the woman asked.

Dorian looked at her imploringly and tried to put on his most innocent face. “I was just… curious. About the Herald. He uh… Varric mentioned that he and his advisors were having an important meeting and well I um… wanted to hear it from the source?” He was a fool and wished he’d learned how to be a honey tongued snake like his peers had been.

She seemed to ignore his verbal stumble and gave him a small smile, like one gave a particularly amusing animal. “In other words, you’re the company the Herald brought back with him after his trip to Redcliffe.”

“H-how-?”

“Oh dear, people often forget the walls have ears and that fashion is an instant identifier.”

Oh she was good. She played the game with the grace of one who was well versed in all the ins-and-outs of the rules. “There was no point lying to her at this point. “I know exactly what is going on in Redcliffe and how crucial it is that the Herald side with the mages.”

She nodded. “The mages have their leashes too loose in Redcliffe. They feel too invincible. To allow that to continue and further excommunicating them to this freedom would be detrimental to getting things back into order.”

Dorian stared at the woman. “A-are you implying that the Inquisition should side with the mages to reinstate the Circles?”

“Hm, at least some sort of control needs to be put into action, but I doubt the mages will stand to go completely back to the Circles.”

With good reason, Dorian thought but didn’t voice. “Not that this isn’t a riveting talk, but I was busy listening in on the meeting.”

“Which you aren’t supposed to be doing.”

“Be that as it may, I would appreciate being able to continue listening if it’s all the same to you…”

“Madame De Fer, Enchanter to the Imperial Court of Orlais.”

Dorian stood a bit straighter and nodded at her respectfully. “Dorian of House Pavus.”

She raised an eyebrow at his name. “You are a far way from home, Dorian.”

“I’m here to do what needs to be done.”

She sent him that amused smile again. “See that you do.” And with that she walked away as if their conversation had never happened. He didn’t waste anymore time and instead tuned back into the meeting behind the door.

“-their focused on Lavellan, we break the magister’s defenses. It could work, but it’s a huge risk,” the man said. He sounded much calmer than he did previously.

“I can definitely do distractions,” Aeren cheered.

“It’s a huge risk,” the man emphasized.

“Come now Commander, ye have little faith in my ability to get on people’s nerves.”

“Trust me we’re plenty aware of this ability of yours,” Cassandra said blandly. Dorian had to bite his lip to stop himself from barking out a laugh. Cassandra didn’t hold back her opinions at all.

He was waiting to hear more when he felt a hand against his shoulder. Dorian tensed and turned to look at the soldier who looked at him with confusion. “You’re not supposed to do that,” he said. “This is a meeting between the Herald and his advisors, he’ll give his orders once everything’s been sorted out.”

Dorian shook his head. “I have information about the magister in Redcliffe and his methods.” He prayed that this was one of Leliana’s scouts who knew about the situation in Redcliffe. The soldier blinked at him and looked between Dorian and the door like it held a complicated problem that he was trying to solve. “I just want to be able to offer my aid to them.”

The soldier warred with himself for only a moment more before he pushed open the door to the meeting room. The room instantly quieted and Dorian forced himself to not shrink away from suddenly being the subject of everyone’s attention. He could feel Cassandra’s glare and the exasperated look being sent his way by Aeren.

The soldier cleared his throat and gestured to Dorian. “He says he has information about the magister and his methods, Commander.”

The Commander didn’t seem to know how to take him his face going from a stern gaze to outright confusion. But he gestured to Dorian to speak.

“Your spies will never get past Alexius’s magic without my help,” Dorian said. It was true, Alexius had always been good at wards and he doubted any old mage would know how to create a hole in them without disrupting the whole spell or attracting Alexius attention. “So if you’re going after him, I’m coming along.”

“This mission could mean life or death for the entire Inquisition, and you’re a child,” the Commander said, not unkindly.

“I’m fully capable of holding my own.” He wasn’t going to budge on this. He was coming along whether they wanted him to or not. “I’m coming along.”

The Commander seemed to want to argue further with him, but he turned his attention to Aeren who was pinching the bridge of his nose. “The plan puts you in the most danger. We can’t, in good conscience, order you to do this.” The Commander paused before continuing on, his focus completely on the Herald. “We can still go after the Templars if you’d rather not play the bait. It’s up to you.”

Dorian opened his mouth to argue, but was silenced by an elbow hitting his shoulder. He turned to see Aeren giving a manic grin to the room. “And pass up the opportunity to be asked to be annoying? I think not.”

The rest of the group nodded and started to sort out the finer details. Dorian quietly took steps to the door only to be stopped by a hand grasping his shoulder. He was getting tired of being stopped like that.

“If this meeting is adjourned, I think Dorian and I will grab something to eat, won’t we Dorian,” Aeren said. It wasn’t a question but rather a fact that Dorian wasn’t going to get away from. The Herald walked with him out of the room, his hand never leaving his shoulder.

Dorian squirmed under Aeren’s hold. “A-aeren I-”

“I understand why you did it, but you really could’ve gotten in trouble.” The Herald sounded tired. “I really was going to let you know what the verdict was when the meeting concluded.”

“I couldn’t guarantee that you’d choose the mages.”

“You couldn’t do that eavesdropping either.”

Dorian shrugged. “I figured if it was going badly and sounded like you were picking the Templars I could burst in and try to convince them otherwise.”

Aeren laughed. “You think causing a scene would change their choice?”

“Felix always said that I had a nact for dramatics, I felt it wouldn’t hurt my chances.”

Aeren looked considering. “Huh, I guess that might have worked a little. But you’re still in trouble.” Dorian sputtered but Aeren plowed on. “For what you just pulled, I’ll be taking you to the Tavern with me, have Varric and Bull scold you some while I eat. Then I’ll introduce you to the others.”

Dorian supposed he could live with that.

#parvus magus #dorian pavus #BAMF!Dorian #dorian is a teen #my fic #dragon age fic #dragon age fanfiction #dragon age inquisition #m!lavellan #I'm finally updating this #someone please be proud of me #motivation is a fleeting mistress #but I'm trying #Young!Dorian Pavus #dragon age kink meme

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lostinfantasies38 · 5 years

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Sun Touched - Chapter 2 The Tower of Fuck All

Dragon Age Origins

Rating: Explicit for violence and language

Sirra Brosca/Alistair Theirin

They returned to the same part of the ruins where she met Alistair earlier, but they moved further back to the overhanging tower that would send someone tumbling into the canyon, if they happened to slip over the edge. Everyone was somber: subdued, anxious, ready for it to be over, yet dreading it at the same time. She had subtly observed Alistair on the way over and his mood was very telling. Sirra steeled herself – she may be a duster, but she wasn’t a coward.

Her time on the surface hadn’t been anything like she’d imagined. She knew nothing about the customs or the people or even the animals. Duncan made sure on their journey to Ostagar that they didn’t encounter any hostile wildlife, so the wolves earlier were a complete surprise. Their viciousness reminded her of stories of the tezpadam – deepstalkers – in the Deep Roads, but she had never actually fought off a pack of hungry predators before. Not counting the Carta thugs she and Leske escaped from after the cock-up in the Provings. But they were back-stabbing lackeys and deserved to die slow for working for that bastard. Too bad she’d been on a timeline and had to kill them quick.

Yet, there was something exhilarating about being topside. None of the humans gave a damn about her caste or lack thereof. When she asked Duncan about it, he explained that humans might have racist sentiments, but they did not have a caste system. It dawned on Sirra then that she could start over. She was free to live a life without worrying that she would be told to “know her place” and keep her head in the dust where she belonged. Sirra smirked to herself when she recalled the uproar she caused in the Provings; besting all the warriors of the Warrior Caste easily like she was one of them. If she could upset centuries of tradition underground, just imagine what she could do up here…well, as soon as she stopped getting nauseous from staring at the sky for too long.

Even though she missed the security of a ceiling, Sirra did love the sunlight. It stung her eyes after a lifetime underground, but Duncan assured her that would pass with time. Even so, she loved the way the light changed colors during the day and played through the leaves on the trees, seeming to dance on the ground. The Warden-Commander had patiently explained the flora to her on their two-week journey to Ostagar from Orzammar. And with stone being in short supply on the surface she had taken to occasionally touching a tree, sensing the strength and rigidity in them during times of insecurity. She may be casteless – doomed to live and die without honor or returning to the Stone, but on the surface, trees didn’t reject her and she took some solace in that. Maybe it was stupid, but it made her feel like she belonged topside. Or maybe she was simply sun-touched and her brains were addled by exposure.

It was full dark when Duncan approached them, interrupting the squabbling between Daveth and Jory that she had tuned out. He was holding a large goblet and Sirra’s blood ran cold as pieces began to fall into place. She could see that the men hadn’t caught on yet. Flicking her gaze to Alistair, the warrior quickly turned his head to avoid her pointed stare.

Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, nug shit!

The Warden-Commander explained to the men what she had already figured out and Sirra clamped her mouth shut, willing herself to keep the lunch she ate hours ago down. She didn’t want to find out if the stew was just as disgusting coming back up as it had been going down. Her ears pricked up when Duncan informed them that drinking darkspawn blood could either kill them or leave them “forever changed” – whatever that meant.

Sirra was a dwarf. She’d heard stories of men exiled to the Deep Roads and left for dead, only to be discovered years later by Lord So-and-So on an expedition as tainted, twisted versions that could never be returned to the Stone. It was the closest thing to a dwarven nightmare that the castes could imagine. Sirra had never put much stock in the stories, mainly because she was casteless, but she knew that the other castes could not imagine a worse fate than being denied the Stone’s embrace when they died.

Yet, now she was here, about to drink darkspawn blood and either die like a worthless duster or prove the shits in Orzammar wrong again. She was determined to do the latter.

Sirra was tempted to ask for the goblet first after Alistair’s melancholic Grey Warden intonation, but Duncan passed the chalice to Daveth first. She held her breath anxiously when her fellow rogue took a big gulp. He shoved the cup back to Duncan with a grimace, forcing himself to swallow and blinked back tears. Within seconds, his hands flew to his throat scratching with his blunted nails down his neck, gasping for air until he fell to his knees and keeled over. Sirra stepped back in horror, covering her mouth with a shaky hand. Alistair stood against the wall almost folded in on himself wearing a pained expression, still refusing to look at her. Her blood ran from cold to ice instantly.

Ser Jory was no better, scrambling to get away from the body of their short-lived companion, until he found himself backed against the wall. He argued with Duncan and refused to partake of the ritual. Sirra squeaked in spite of herself when Duncan unsheathed his sword and solemnly declared, “There is no turning back.”

Jory tried to fight him off, but Duncan was faster with his longsword than the knight was with his two-handed one, and ran the younger man through. Ser Jory’s blood pooled quickly on the stone heading straight for her boots from his slumped corpse on the ground and she leapt out of the way, only to come face to face with the stern glare of the Warden-Commander.

Thrusting the goblet at her, she tried to ignore the bright red stains on his normally immaculate white armor. Flicking her eyes to Alistair, he finally met her gaze and she saw the hope that swirled in his amber eyes that she would be the one to see it through. Steeling herself again, Sirra calmed her trembling hands to take a sip of the foul concoction without getting it all over herself. Her eyes burned with tears as the blood scalded her mouth and left a blazing trail of molten lava down her throat and dropped into her gut like a hot stone. She could feel the flames licking through her veins, burning away what was there and replacing it with something darker. It traveled to her heart and seared her like a brand, then it pumped the new substance from her heart to the rest of her body. Darkness descended as the fire stormed the gates to her brain and flashes of darkspawn raced through her mind.

Sirra screamed.

*~*

When she jerked awake, she had no way of knowing how much time had passed. Sirra only knew that her head felt like it was going to explode and there were lingering visions of what might be an urtok – a dragon. Duncan and Alistair were both leaning over her, concern etched on their faces as Alistair helped her stand. Their lips moved, but she was having a hard time making connections and Duncan merely patted her on the shoulder in understanding. After a little more time on her feet clinging to a nearby pillar, she felt strong enough to walk around and the movement cleared the shadows that still clung to her mind.

“I’m sorry,” she rasped, halting in surprise almost immediately. Her voice was hoarse and jagged, more so than usual. She clasped her throat, resisting the urge to clear it, somehow knowing it wouldn’t help. Duncan smiled gently and shook his head.

“It’s not permanent. The blood always burns the vocal cords. In a couple of days, your voice will return to normal or you can drink a healing potion, if you don’t want to wait.” Glancing back at her pack, Alistair beat her to it and passed her a red potion bottle with an understanding smile. Yanking the cork out of the bottle she chugged it and sighed happily as it went to work healing her raw voice.

“Thank you,” she murmured to both of them when she felt it was safe to speak. They nodded and Duncan asked her again how she was feeling. “I’m…fine now.” Sirra wasn’t able to meet his gaze, aware he knew she was lying and too proud to admit that while she was trapped between life and death she had done nothing, except scream in her mind as the change took place. The older man sighed heavily, his eyes full of pity and he looked like he wanted to say something, but he curbed his tongue with a weary shake of his head.

Alistair broke the weighty silence and passed her a pendant on a leather cord full of blood from the Joining chalice and explained that it was worn in remembrance of those who didn’t make it through. He’d obviously wrapped the wire attaching the pendant to the cord himself – she could see the indents in his forefingers and thumbs from bending it repeatedly to make sure the pendant and its contents were secure. With a teary nod at the heartbroken expression on his chiseled features, she clutched the necklace to her chest and listened to Duncan explain that she was wanted at a strategy meeting with the King. With a sorrowful smile, Duncan passed her a new set of leathers to replace her damaged ones before he took his leave.

Sirra grabbed Alistair by the wrist when he turned to go and she swallowed hard. “I want to wear it, but I don’t trust my hands to put it on right now.” Raising her hand, Sirra showed him how unsteady she remained after the events of the night and he nodded as she passed him the cord. He towered over her when he was this close, her head barely coming up to the center of his broad chest, but his height didn’t put her on edge like some humans. Gingerly he laid the pendant in the hollow of her throat, shifted her braid over her shoulder, and tied the leather in a tight knot at the nape of her neck.

He didn’t touch her, but he lingered in his position behind her and whispered solemnly. “They will be remembered, Sirra. I-I am glad you made it through. You had us both worried that…well, just goes to show I shouldn’t doubt you.” Alistair chuckled mirthlessly in the dark and she turned around to peer up at him curiously. His warm hazel eyes were captivating and lit within with something she couldn’t put her finger on, but it buoyed her nonetheless.

The taller man seemed unnerved by her scrutiny, no doubt bewildered by her ability to see in the dark, another feature Duncan informed her that humans did not possess. Sirra read every minute facial tick for signs of deceit and couldn’t find it. Surprising, she mused. Relenting at last, Sirra let her mouth relax into a light smile. “Thanks. I’m not used to people having positive things to say about me.”

Alistair scoffed, his eyes widening. “You-you’re serious? I just watched you take down at least fifty darkspawn and wild animals today. In my books, that qualifies as a massive accomplishment and definitely deserving of recognition.”

Sirra shrugged and hoped the shadows hid the flush on her pale cheeks. Praise was indeed rare, but sincerity was rarer still. Where she came from, praise was only given when someone wanted something in return, usually paid in money or sex and she wasn’t sure she’d ever been on the receiving end of genuine sincerity. She didn’t even know how to respond to that. What did you say to people when they were being honest and kind without hope of reward? When they were simply nice for the sake of being nice?

“Alistair, I-I –“

The warrior smiled softly, patting her shoulder awkwardly as he skirted around her smaller frame with a reminder that the King awaited her presence. Sirra nodded dumbly and waited for him to leave the tower before quickly changing and dashing down to the strategy meeting. Duncan flashed her a minute smile at her arrival and she gave him a clipped nod as she focused on the battle plans.

King Cailan hailed her and congratulated Sirra heartily on joining the Grey Wardens, which she had the presence of mind to only acknowledge with a short bow, catching Duncan’s nod of approval beside her. Sirra was surprised when the king requested that she and Alistair be the ones to light the signal fire. Yet again, she inclined her head at the leader of the human lords and left the meeting with Duncan who waved Alistair over from the far end of the camp. The young man clapped a fellow soldier on the back with a warm laugh and the sound of it caught Sirra off-guard. It was too bright and comforting to fit in with the oppressive darkness that held the promise of rain for the coming battle. More than that though, she was surprised by how it wrapped around her like a blanket and lifted her lagging spirit.

Bleeding Ancestors.

The warrior stood on her left as Duncan filled them in on the plan for the fight and Sirra was more aware of him than she’d been before. She tried vainly to ignore the heat that radiated off his larger body and the dulcet tone of his voice as he argued with Duncan. Alistair was not happy with their orders, but he grudgingly accepted them, like a good soldier. Unlike them, however, he couldn’t resist a teasing jibe about wearing a dress if the King asked him to dance and Sirra couldn’t help snorting at the absurd mental image.

“I think I’d like to see that.” Sirra smirked at her fellow Warden, raking her eyes down his body and trying to visualize him in a gown. Alistair grinned broadly and her stomach flip flopped at the mischievous twinkle in his eyes, knowing she’d been caught ogling him.

“For you…maybe. But it has to be a pretty dress,” the warrior teased. Duncan groaned, but Sirra was outright chortling now and Alistair chuckled lightly beside her.

Duncan rubbed a hand wearily across his forehead. “Head to the Tower of Ishal. Alistair will know what kind of signal to watch for.”

Having laughed away some of their battle nerves, Alistair turned serious again. “Duncan! May the Maker watch over you.”

Their Commander looked at them, almost sadly, for a moment before he replied. “May He watch over us all.” His eyes turned to her. “And may the Stone guard you, Sister.” Sirra’s eyes widened in surprise and she inclined her head, too stunned to answer. She was casteless and he knew it, but he still treated her with respect and afforded her the traditional words of honor for those with a place in the Stone.

Finding her tongue at last, Sirra gave him a traditional farewell. “Atrast tunsha, Duncan.” His lips curved into a smile then, which she returned as they all separated to their places. His on the front lines – theirs as supporting roles in the battle. She followed Alistair to the bridge that she crossed into the ruins earlier that day and he pointed out their destination, yelling over the sound of the catapults that they needed to reach it quickly.

Sirra didn’t need to be told twice. She ran across the bridge as fast as her short legs would allow, barely reaching the other side when a fiery projectile from the enemy plowed into the bridge and killed a couple of sappers where she had been standing mere seconds ago. Alistair steered her gently away from the carnage, his face twisted painfully in an expression that surely mirrored her own.

A Circle mage and a solider almost bowled them over, explaining that darkspawn claimed the tower, having dug through the lower levels. Sirra shared an uneasy glance with the warrior and they grabbed their weapons simultaneously, recruiting the mage and the soldier to join them in retaking the tower so they could fulfil their duty. The mage enchanted their weapons with fire and the flames warmed her hands in the freezing rain allowing Sirra to keep a firm grip on her daggers. She was thankful for the heat and the additional damage it did to their foes as they fought through a couple bands of darkspawn before they even reached the base of the tower.

She wasn’t adept at feeling them in her mind yet, but there was a sliminess thrumming steadily in the back of her mind whenever they were near. When the shrieks erupted from stealth at the doors of the tower, Sirra shouted and leapt back, letting a throwing knife fly, not even bothering to aim in her terror.

“Sorry! Damn, I forgot you can’t tell them apart yet,” Alistair yelled over the sound of his shield slamming into one of lanky creatures.

“’S okay!” Sirra shot back while burying her daggers to the hilt in the back of one preparing to rake the mage with its jagged claws. Whirling, twirling, sidestepping her way through the new darkspawn, Sirra covered the more vulnerable party members, knowing that Alistair could hold his own. Until a hurlock alpha charged towards him with its massive greataxe raised, heading directly for the warrior’s unprotected flank.

Growling in anger, Sirra tossed a shock bomb, temporarily blinding the hurlock and ending his single-minded charge at her fellow Warden. Alistair turned around as his foe fell under his blade and focused his attention on the hurlock that was denied victory. Ganging up on the alpha, Sirra slid along the wet stones and sliced up from the darkspawn’s Achilles heel into its calf. With a roar it collapsed on the ground and Alistair’s sword whistled through the air, cleanly removing the head from its shoulders and sending it flying.

They were saturated in black blood. The rain rolled the congealing blobs in between the seams of their armor, but neither of them cared. Panting heavily, Alistair froze and stared at her still on her knees next to the hurlock corpse and she returned his frank gaze with her own. She should not feel this strongly about a random human she met that very day. Normally, she wouldn’t, but today was turning out to be anything but normal. Maybe she was losing her damn mind now that she was topside. But she knew that wasn’t true – it was him.

Sirra may be a dwarf, but she wasn’t blind. Alistair was incredibly handsome with features that were so perfect they could have been carved by the finest stoneworkers in Orzammar. Long, noble nose, strong jaw dusted with stubble, hard panels of pure muscle making up his torso and arms that she had been all too aware of when he’d collapsed earlier. And Ancestors, he was tall! Taller than Duncan, taller than most of the men in the camp, and for some reason that was incredibly attractive. Even more than his Stone-hewn good looks though, was the kindness that precipitated his every action and the surprising gentleness in a man so large. Not to mention his humor and penchant for teasing. She swallowed hard as his golden eyes bored into her.

Breaking their staring contest, she tried to stand, but the slick flagstones kept her from getting purchase and she was forced to accept his arm to regain her footing. When she continued to slip even then, Alistair slid his arms under her armpits and easily lifted her out of the slippery goo she’d been trapped in and deposited her carefully a few feet away.

Once back on her feet, Sirra dashed up the ramp and pushed the heavy wooden door of the tower open, hoping the gloom would hide the furious blush that stained her cheeks. The men followed her silently, Alistair taking up the rear, and she tried to concentrate on what they were doing. They crept slowly around the curve of the room, but she raised her fist and indicated with hand signals that there was a trap ahead. An obvious sheen covered the floor and Sirra saw the wire in the flickering torch light that would ignite the barrels and set the grease on fire. Alistair asked the mage a question that she couldn’t hear and the mage nodded with a small smile. Sneaking a little closer, the mage cast a layer of ice over the grease and Sirra carefully disarmed the trap, so the four of them could finally rush the unsuspecting darkspawn.

“Emissary!”

“I got him,” yelled Alistair and Sirra focused her attention on the archers. They moved quickly through the lower level, even cutting down the rather surprising gang of darkspawn by the ballistae with ease. Sirra realized that she and Alistair were becoming more in tune with each other’s fighting styles while the mage with his fireballs was a welcome addition for taking out large groups.

“Maker’s breath,” Alistair panted when they reached the second level. “What are these darkspawn doing ahead of the horde?”

Sirra shook her head and hissed, “Weren’t you complaining that you wouldn’t get to fight?” He chuckled at her teasing.

“You’re right, there is a silver lining to this after all. But don’t forget we need to reach the beacon.”

She lifted two fingers to her temple and flicked them in silent salute. He smiled even as he jerked his chin toward the next room and flashed his hand twice to indicate the number of spawn ahead of them: ten. Sirra nodded at they crept as silently as possible to maintain the level of surprise.

Five spawn were in the main room lined with cages holding back the war hounds Alistair told her about. He pulled a lever in the room that opened all the cages and she involuntarily shrank back, remembering her encounter with the wolves and still not a hundred percent sure of these ‘hounds.’ But she needn’t have worried. The dogs headed straight for the darkspawn, knocking them over and shredding them with claws and teeth, while the humans stabbed and burned their way through the rooms in the hallway, flushing out the remaining darkspawn.

Another room at the end of the hall held three more guarding the staircase. Once dead, they climbed to the third level and repeated their annihilation of the disgusting creatures, clearing the floor. They reached the next staircase and Sirra stopped to catch her breath.

“For the love of all the nugs! Why do humans insist on climbing into the sky? Please, tell me this is the last floor?” The shorter woman wheezed from her bent position while kneading her fingers in her quivering thighs.

Alistair shrugged guiltily and sucked in a deep lungful of air. “Andraste, I hope so. Come on, let’s find out and light the beacon. I’m sure we missed the signal.”

They barreled in, but Alistair’s arm grabbed her shoulder almost instantly and reeled her back a few steps, his hazel eyes wide as saucers. Sirra followed his gaze and threw a hand over her mouth to swallow the squeak that almost spilled out at the sight of an ogre sitting on his haunches. It was eating…something. Human or darkspawn, she couldn’t say, but she didn’t really want to know, either.

The room was completely circular and there was zero cover. The beacon was just behind the giant darkspawn. There was no hope for it – they would have to fight him in order to achieve their goal. Alistair squeezed her shoulder quickly before he hefted his shield with a dark glint in his eyes. At the last minute, he bent down and breathed in her ear, “May the Stone guard you, Sirra.” She jerked at him, mouth agape. What was it with humans surprising the shit out of her today?

Gathering her scattered thoughts, she managed to stammer quietly, “May the Maker watch over you, Alistair.” Sirra had heard the phrase many times already during her two-week journey with Duncan to Ostagar. Yet to see the way his amber eyes shone like polished bronze when she repeated it flawlessly, was the first time she was grateful she’d been paying attention to human pleasantries.

Ducking into stealth, Sirra crept close to the ogre, trying to avoid the slick blood and crunching the bone fragments that littered the floor. She hoped to land at least one solid hit before it realized it was not alone. It was not to be. Something caught its attention and it whirled angrily on the three men huddled near the stairs. She tried to follow after it, but it moved too quickly with its massive legs and she watched helplessly as it raked its meaty hands along the ground, sending them careening in opposite directions.

“NO!”

Sirra screamed when Alistair landed hard, his head snapping up and cracking back down on the hard stone, leaving him splayed out like a broken doll halfway across the tower. Her stomach fell like a boulder to her feet; a repeat of the dread that descended on her when he collapsed hours ago with blood spewing over his lovely lips. The ogre turned when she yelled and charged her next, but she dove to the side avoiding him. A movement by the stairs revealed the Circle mage standing on shaky legs and attempting to sneak through the shadows to Alistair’s side. His cool blue gaze met her determined one and she nodded imperceptibly.

“Well, a duster’s gotta die sometime. Might as well be today,” Sirra muttered.

Reaching into her pouch on her belt, she pulled out a fire grenade and threw it directly in the beast’s face. It roared in anger, rubbing a giant hand against an eye, she smirked to see that it was damaged. Of course, that only pissed it off more. Its good eye zeroed in on her and it slammed the ground with its fists, throwing her off balance and almost causing her to lose her grip on her blades, but she ducked into a roll to move out of range of its hands. It bellowed angrily when she stood and yanked a section of the ruined stone floor to hurl it at her.

Sirra’s eye widened and she disappeared in a cloud with half formed prayers to any ancestors that might listen for help, as a casteless girl tried to fight an ogre on the surface with only two daggers and her wits. The creature tossed the stone easily, the force shaking the entire floor and knocking her teeth together with a clack. She managed to sneak behind it, but she had to act fast – its eye had landed on the mage and Alistair. She couldn’t spare more than a glance to reassure herself that her fellow Warden was alive before she launched herself from the shadows to slam her blades deep in the ogre’s sides, twisting them with a snarl for extra damage.

It reached for her, furiously trying to snatch her in its massive grip and crush her like a Deep Roads beetle. Using her daggers as climbing holds, Sirra slowly crawled up the middle of its back, just out of its reach; taking pleasure with each bite of her honed weapons into its thick skin, finding courage in its screams of rage. If she could just get to its neck, Sirra planned to rip open its jugular and send the Blighted creature back to the Void where it belonged. She kept up with her ascent, ignoring her exhausted arms and the burn in her lungs from the exertion.

“Sirra! Get down – I’m going in!”

Thank you, Ancestors, she thought and her eyelids fluttering shut for an instant in gratitude. With the last of her strength, Sirra made sure the hold on her daggers was secure and yanked them out with an upward swipe when she backflipped off the ogre and rolled halfway across the floor. Glancing up from her position on the ground, time seemed to slow as she beheld the warrior in amazement. Alistair flew through the air with a snarl of pure hatred, sword arm cocked and shield back, while the ogre roared at the new opponent with streams of blood coating its backside.

The strike was true, burying his sword deep in its neck and the momentum of the large human sent the ogre to the ground in its weakened state. Alistair didn’t lose his hold on his weapon, locking his legs around the creature’s neck to ride out the fall with ease. Alistair ripped out the blade, sending a rush of blood across the stone and slammed it to the hilt through the ogre’s open maw and twisted the blade until its arms stopped moving. With a satisfied grunt, he yanked out his sword from the mangled mess of the darkspawn’s head and jumped nimbly off the massive carcass.

Sirra managed to push herself up on her knees and breathed slowly as blood returned to her arms in a rush of pins and needles. Alistair sank to the ground in front of her and lifted her head, his mouth moving with questions, but her fuzzy brain was unable to process anything besides the fact that they were miraculously alive. Her companion paused his torrent of words; instead, he gripped her by the shoulders and squeezed – reassuring and strong, like the Stone. Sirra smiled as she stared into the gore smeared face of the crazy human who took down an ogre and chuckled. His eyes widened, his large hands fluttered across her form again, checking for hidden wounds or blood loss that would explain her hysterics. Which only made her laugh harder until tears of relief and mirth mingled with the thick layer of blood coating her features.

“You…you…” Sirra wheezed through her laughter, her hands tight on his forearms for support as she struggled to speak through her chortling. “You killed an ogre! It was…ogre-kill!” Alistair’s brow furrowed slightly and she breathed deeply to be understood. “Like overkill, except it was really ogre-kill!”

The dwarven woman crowed as all of the stress of the night leeched from her body. Alistair laughed softly, gradually increasing in strength along with hers until they were clinging desperately to each other, laughing and crying through the myriad of emotions that crashed over them. The tension finally shaken from their bodies, Alistair pulled Sirra to her feet and waved the mage over to light the beacon while he pulled a couple of rags from his pack so they could remove the evidence of battle from their faces. Now, they just had to wait for the battle to end. Afterwards, she planned to meet the other Wardens and maybe get something better to eat than that stew she had earlier.

#dragon age fanfiction #dragon age #dragon age origins #alistair theirin #alistair x warden #Alistair x Sirra #original wip #original oc #ao3 #read on ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer

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cslupus · 6 years

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Hello! It's Lupus. Here to put the chronic into the Chronicles. I don't own anything by C.S. Lewis but I believe he would smile on fanfiction and that he fully intended the reader to finish his world. I don't own anything by Tech N9ne. The italics are lyrics from his song "Einstein".

Christmas day. Topeka, KS. 2414 Se Colorado Street. Dale's house

"So, fucking Egypt, right? Yknow, I was there and damn it, I wanted to try some of that local hashish." John said this while gesturing with the hose of the hookah in his hand, half remembering to finally take a hit. He blew the next words in clouds, "It was back in late 2011 to early 2012 and they had that revolution, right? Well..." John paused to take a drink from his tall natty light and coughed. Scarlette sat inconspicuously at the end of the couch, a worn and gorilla taped hookah hose in hand as everyone listened to the man sitting cross-legged on the floor. She'd been at job Corp for a year and a half and was finally free to smoke. She was lit as fuck and did her best to follow along. He continued, "So I found some guys who put me in contact with a dealer. And this wasn't something like here in the states where you go to the place, take it home and, yknow. No, this dude led me and about 3 other guys to this fucking warehouse. There was literally this big ol' switch breaker, like 'Egor, flip the switch' style thing that they pull down to turn on this one bare bulb hanging over this circle of chairs. At this point I'm thinking, yknow. 'Yeah, I might die, but fuck it. Yolo. Let's see where this goes.' and besides, they already had my money. So we go and sit in these chairs and they break it out and we're passing it around when one of the guys there starts to speak. He said," John paused. The look in his eye had shifted to a sadder gaze. "He said he was with the Egyptian guard or military or whatever. I don't remember his rank, just that he gave orders. He told us his rank and he told us his job during the revolution. Keep in mind that this shit just happened, like, within a year of him telling this story. His job was to tell the armed soldiers guarding some building what to do. The protests were crazy and a few times, yknow, his men got nervous, and he got nervous. He finally ordered the men to fire into the air to scare the crowd back, and so they did and the crowd dispersed. Just a couple days later they were back, and after a bit he had his men fire in the air again and the crowd dispersed and backed up, but slower this time. And sure enough, a day and a half later, they're back. So he has them fire into the air again. But the crowd isn't dispersing. He's telling us about fucking hundreds of people calling his bluff and his superiors were putting pressure on him and then, for whatever reason, he looked ME in the eye, dead in the eye, and said 'So I ordered my men to fire into the crowd.' and the only thing I could think right then in that moment was 'I am so fucking high right now.'"

The room was quiet. This quiet was comically broken with the sound of someone sucking the last icy bit of fountain drink through a straw, and everyone suppressed their laughter until finally Scarlette let hers go. The rest of the room followed suit. The tension broke and Dale, the host, slid over to Scarlette and asked her to pass the Playstation controller. She handed it over and he proceeded to put on some YouTube. Music filled the spaces left by people trickling towards the kitchen where the liquor was.

If you got scratch nigga, get the fuck up Throw your hands up, if you hella fucked up Einstein, tech n9ne, two triple zip Crack a jaw, whip 'em all, if they wanna trip Ladies with the bar codes, meet me after this

Maybe you can show me, the meaning of abyss Everybody on the wall momma is a bzzz Had her at the budgetel stroking on my dzzz This ones for the psychos gang bangers and sluts Bumbs holding the pipe those college graduate fucks

Scarlette stepped out onto the front porch to smoke a cigarette.

As she untangled her ear buds, a second person came outside and lit a clove cigar.

"Sup, Eddie." Scarlette said. She looked at him and noticed his clean cut appearance and his absence of cornrows. "You look nice. Your hair is really short, though. Beard looks good."

"Thanks, clove?" he offered the little black pack over and she saw a lighter and a chillum in it with 3 black wrapped cigars and three little nugs of weed in the cellophane of a cigarette pack burned shut.

"Everything's coming in threes. Nah. I don't want one after that hash."

"Threes?"

"Three cloves. Three nugs. Three days."

"So it's true. You're going to London to live with your dad." replied Eddie.

"Yeah, got the ticket with my Job Corp. money."

"You went for culinary, right? Are you sure they'll take your certification in the U.K.?"

"There's plenty of places that pay under the table. Skill is skill and I have it. I'll start there." she said a little defensively. She didn't like to talk about her reasons for moving, but the truth was, she felt called. London was calling and she was going to answer. She just was.

"I wish you'd reconsider." Eddie said sadly. "Do you at least have some money left after the ticket? Probably just a couple hundred dollars. What if things don't go your way and you end up homeless?"

"I'm sorry, Eddie, but I'm..." she was cut off by a series of gunshots from a few blocks over. "No, seriously! Who the fuck gangbangs on Christmas?"

"Keep it classy, Topeka." Eddie replied. The put out their half smoked deathsticks with reluctance and headed back inside.

Kc mo roll Kc mo roll What do we say to haters off top Haters got beef they thinking we got We gon' get postal if it don't stop You can get ghost or you can get shot

Scarlet sat down on the sofa and looked at her novelty yo-yo/mp3 player she was given as a fare well gift from her Job Corp. friend, Sylvester.

"I wanted to, just, curate and give you the best techno and trap and dubstep playlist ever, but a bunch of shit went down at my house I had to deal with, so I ended up not having time and I was just going to give you the yoyo and let you put on whatever juggalo shit you wanted, but then my buddy gave me acid. While I was peaking, I suddenly decided to work on this list, so I'm just ripping songs off of YouTube based on how they made me trip and, if they didn't make me trip right, it was like there was this lion, this fucking golden ass lion, looking in at me through a door in my chest and it'd growl. I'd feel it growl. It was insane. But I did fill it for you. So, it's all techno. Pretty random. Glitch Mob, Timmy Trumpet, some Diplo. Give it a chance before you delete it all."

She didn't say anything but she'd been seeing a huge lion in her dreams climbing the rocks on top of Echo Cliffs as the sun's rays slanted beneath a great, black stormcloud. Then it would look at her and she'd realize something so shocking it would wake her up but she could never remember what shocked her awake. She rolled her ear buds around the yo-yo and put it back in her bag. She headed into the kitchen to find Eddie.

"No dude," Eddie said, red cup in hand "you should not learn how to crip walk. You shouldn't even say crip walk. Say C-walk. And don't do it."

"Man, I do not, for the life of me, understand why a dance should be off limits. I just don't." said Tommie. "Man, I don't give a fuck, I'm graduated! Oh damn, sup Scarlette!"

"Sup. Shit, I'm graduated, too." she said as she grabbed a cup.

"From Job Corp. Not the same. Come back when you been to college, then law school." Tommy said as he leaned forward and smiled arrogantly.

"Man, chill out you cocky motherfucker. You ain't passed the bar yet. You are not a lawyer yet. You're a juris doctorate having motherfucker. Let Scarlette have hers, man. It takes nothing from you." said Eddie.

Scarlette glared at Tommie and poured herself some soda. She didn't really feel like drinking tonight, not after her mom's drunken bullshit earlier. She was thinking about being home as little as possible until her flight. She had lots of people to visit and say goodbye to, so it felt doable.

London, U.K.

Tears flowed down her face as she picked through what was left of her belongings on the terrace outside her father's flat. Her father's girlfriend, Debra, didn't like Scarlette and exactly one week after Scarlette started her hotel job, Debra planted a chequebook in Scarlette's trunk and claimed it had been stolen. So, without a word, Loren took his daughters belongings and put them outside while she was at work. He'd never been a brave man.

Scarlette made her way down the water-stained concrete stairs, out through the courtyard, and on into the streets. She walked aimlessly, hungry but too cautious to spend anything. She thought of all the groceries she joyously bought for herself just days before. They'd all be eaten up by that treacherous bitch and her lapdog boyfriend. More tears came. She sat on a swing and cried as hard as she'd ever cried.

When she finally stopped, the world stopped with her. It was dead silent. No horns, no machines, no people. She heard herself breathing hard so she knew she wasn't deaf. Suddenly, a great shadow crawled slowly over her from behind. She looked up and saw the buildings, streets, everything, peeled up in a big wave and curling over her. She didn't understand. She didn't think. She ran.

She ducked between pedestrians, having to take great care to avoid them so they'd stop knocking her down. It was like they couldn't see her. She eventually found an alleyway and ran down it. She leaned against the wall to catch her breath. To her left she saw a window, with a man staring out at her, though it wasn't a man exactly. He had sharp features, a pointed beard and ears, and two small horns coming from his forehead. She began running again.

This happened over an over. She'd see something utterly impossible, run away, stop to rest, and see something else. A half man half horse, a dancing tree, a squirrel the size of a medium sized dog holding quill and parchment. She couldn't run anymore, but she pushed herself down a narrow corridor back to the street where she saw a boarding bus. She barely made it, almost payed the fare til she realized she still couldn't be seen, found a seat and hoped to not get sat on.

After sneaking onto busses for a while, she found herself near the center of the city. She realized how tired she was. Thoughts of food again tormented her, til she finally got off the bus to track down some fish and chips to steal. She walked with purpose and rounded a corner to come face to foot with a giant. She whimpered as she began running again.

She ran across a vacant lot and saw a tree sprout, grow big and robust, fill with apples, the split in two and decay right in her path. She tried to go around and felt her foot snared by an ancient prehensile root. She struggled as she found herself falling down a sinkhole. She felt dirt in her mouth as the Earth swallowed her and her screams. Roots scratched her face and arms. Soon she felt light through her eyelids and felt leaves along with branches. She was still falling. No matter how she tried, she couldn't keep hold of any branches. It was all she could do to cushion each collision with each ever larger branch. All too soon, she ran out of branches. She fell a whole story and a half and landed on a small boulder jutting from the flowing roots that gripped the ground with her shin taking all of her weight. She both felt and heard her bone snap and, with a wet pop, rip through the skin. She was on hands and knees. She didn't feel anything until she foolishly tried to stand. That's when the world spun out of control. She stumbled to the ground; the pain in her leg was so intense she could almost hear it. She vomited and collapsed into unconsciousness.

Not far from her, in the brush, waited a watching satyr. He nimbly negotiated through the tangled roots of the great old tree and picked up Scarlette's bag. He looked around where he saw objects from her bag fall with her and gathered what he hoped was everything. He briefly examined the contents. He picked up her phone, thinking it was a very dark mirror for scrying, and he almost let out a yelp when the screen lit up. He put it back and donned her purse with the strap across his chest, leaned down, and lifted Scarlette up in a dead man's carry. He was a simple satyr who only did simple magic, but he knew great magic when he saw it, and he knew the High King at Cair Paravel would want to make this his business.

If you wish to read more, cash me on Fanfiction.net and wattpad

#chroniclesofnarnia #narnia #fanfic #fanfiction #susanpevensie #edmundpevensie #susan pevensie #edmund pevensie #mr. tumnus #cannabis #oc #job corps #sapphic #romance #lesbianism #fiction #fan fic

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