#and who knows if he would have actually loved andraste in a romantic way or not but i think he couldve BECAUSE she wasnt mythal

[magebutts]

also maybe im just misreading the codices, but uh...... why arent more people talking abt the very heavy implication that solas might be what the andrastian chantries believed to be the maker 💀

[heylittleriotact]

Ｍａｓｓａｇｅ(ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1/2)

Manipulation of tissue in the course of preparation of the body

“Forgive me if I come across as overly familiar, dear, but I feel I must ask: are you nervous?” Her eyes darted from his, looked at his hands, his wine glass, his own half-finished salad - anywhere but at him. “I… I uh…” Andraste’s ashes, she felt like a dull-minded idiot whenever she opened her mouth around him.

My sensual take on Rook's dinner date with Emmrich, and how it lead to them sleeping together for the first time.

Rating: Explicit

Under the cut or on ao3

Neve was right - I should have worn the old shoes…

She shifted her knee upward slightly and pressed the ball of her foot into the ground, freeing her right heel from stiff new leather and hiding her grimace of relief behind the rim of her wine glass as she wriggled her somewhat crushed toes now that they weren’t crammed together, fighting for space in the narrow toe box. 

There were a perfectly good pair of well broken in heels sitting in her wardrobe back at the Lighthouse that would have been more than acceptable to wear to dinner with Emmrich, but no, she just had to go to Dock Town earlier in the day with Neve who had all but insisted she buy herself something nice for the occasion…

‘Not saying you don’t know how to clean up - I know you Watchers are a well put together bunch, but I don’t know… maybe you’ll have a nicer evening if you’re not sitting across from Emmrich wearing the same clothes you wear to make funeral arrangements with people?‘

‘I’m almost certain he’ll be sitting across from me wearing the same clothes he wears to make funeral arrangements with people,’ Amina had pointed out, and Neve laughed.

‘How sure are you about that? I’d put my money on him showing up in the most formal, four-piece ensemble he owns if it helps his chances of getting you into bed tonight.’

She had a point - but not about sex. Amina knew perfectly well that weeks and weeks of burning tension shrouded under the polite mantle of collegial professionalism had become increasingly difficult to ignore now that they were… well - now that they were… together. That shoe was going to have to drop sooner rather than later, unless…She wrinkled her nose at the very thought: Unless he was the sort to take a courtship so seriously that abstinence from intimate activities was expected until she shared his name…

But no… surely not. Not judging by the way his hands wandered confidently around her waist and his lips eagerly roamed her neck when he kissed her against the Lovers’ Grave.

Be that as it may, she still didn’t want to overdress for the occasion - how embarrassing would that be? How oblivious?

Her face reddened at the imagined awkwardness of waiting for Emmrich at the eluvian, dressed in a lavish floor-skimming evening gown and gloves, her mass of sleek black hair time-consumingly plaited and pinned up to emphasize the small amount of grave gold that she owned, retrieved from its dusty velvet-lined box for the first time in years because she never had occasion - nor the desire - to actually wear any of it, unlike her gentlemanly new companion who clanged and clattered around everywhere he went like a sentient drawer of silverware. 

He’d inevitably appear, descending the stairs from the library wearing what he wore every day - that well-loved waistcoat, a crisp clean shirt, and his favoured combed Druffalo wool trousers. He’d look as handsome as always, and not at all underdressed for a romantic dinner in the 

Necropolis, and his eyes would widen at the spectacle of her dressed like she was heading off for cocktails with the King of Ferelden. The corners of his mouth would twitch and he’d clear his throat in a polite attempt to stifle his laughter. 

At her. 

At how absolutely stupid she looked.

‘It’s dinner - not a setup for a marriage proposal, Neve.’

‘If you say so, but if there’s a cummerbund involved, you owe me five gold.’

‘He wears a cummerbund every day,’ she sighed, turning and pulling open the door to one of the many clothing boutiques populating the market district. 

‘I thought it was a sash.’

‘Don’t let him hear you say that unless you want an hour long oration on the particulars of ‘a gentleman’s wardrobe.’’

At the sound of the bell over the door tinkling, the boutique owner appeared from behind a rack of angular Tevene formal gowns. 

She wiped her clammy palms on her pants - shit she was bad at this. She always had been. She hadn’t even been on a dinner date in what… three years? 

And now she was sitting across from him, as predicted, wearing the stiff deepstalker leather shoes she’d purchased in a state of utter panic at the shop, along with a plunging, emerald green satin blouse that Neve insisted she leave with, and a new fishtail skirt that she admittedly quite liked: it was a woven fabric, mid-length, pinstriped in black and a rich chocolate brown. The ruffled hem was arranged with thin laces that lended the article a rather pretty bustled look that she thought nicely accentuated the curve of her rear. Disaster of an evening or not, that skirt was going to become a frequently worn item.

And as for the prospect of sleeping together…

She tipped back her glass again. Found it empty. 

Dammit.

“Allow me.” 

She looked up from the empty crystal goblet to see Emmrich’s hand reaching over the table, waiting patiently for her to pass him the glass. The warm light of the candles on the table between them contrasted with the cool light of the veilfire lanterns and the subtle, ever shifting glow of the wisps that floated lazily around them, drawn to curiously observe the spectacle of the two courting Watchers taking their dinner in the Memorial Gardens. 

He had indeed dressed as she predicted: put together, poised… perfect. A man who looked like he was always prepared to hold court at a lectern, soothe a wayward spirit, or arrange a romantic meal complete with an embossed menu with gilded corners. 

He was so untouchable, so lofty and distinguished, yet there was an aspect of him that she still couldn’t quite place - perhaps she hadn’t known him long enough yet. Perhaps their relationship was still too new and he’d not seen fit to reveal such parts of himself to her for fear that she would flee. Whatever it was dwelled deep beneath that veneer of perfection, shrouded so well from view that it simply begat speculation.

Was he some sort of deviant? Was this all a facade to disguise a self-serving, narcissistic monster who would eventually wear her down and rob her of her personhood as he claimed her and reduced her to little more than a pretty possession to wear on his arm to fancy parties? 

Maybe this was just how he operated: luring in vulnerable and attractive partners until he bored of them and left them for someone more interesting?

Was he a priggish asshole and this was a finely honed act that had worked well for his purposes until he no longer had need to maintain it?

There had to be a reason why a man as genuine and kind as this hadn’t been snatched up decades earlier. 

There had to be some literal or figurative skeleton lurking in his closet, and once she tore open the doors and shed light on it, she suspected would step back and place her hands on her hips as she surveyed the stinking desiccated corpse of Truth with a grim and knowing smile, simultaneously satisfied and despondent that she had finally confirmed that Emmrich Volkarin was in fact too good to be true, just as she knew he’d be.

‘Ah yes, there it is,’ she’d say with the nonchalance of someone who’d just found a missing earring stuck behind a cushion, utterly unsurprised and proud of herself for seeing through him and catching onto his game before he could do any real damage. Then she’d gently close the doors of the closet and leave, and he would never hear from her again.

But until such time…

Her scarlet lips parted in a smile and she extended her hand, slipping the delicate crystal stem into his fingers, not drawing back when they made contact, her fingertips brushing over over his own and lingering for perhaps a moment longer than they needed to before they parted and he refilled her glass, the steady ‘glug, glug’ of the wine filling the silence between them. 

He passed it back to her and she said thank you, and this time it was his fingers that lingered - like he had been waiting for some sort of unspoken permission to touch her. 

Heat pooled in her belly, and she pressed her thighs together, letting her other heel slip from its shoe, praying he couldn’t see the flush that was heating her cheeks under the rouge that she wore on them. She drank from the glass and set it down gently, returning to the stunningly arranged blood orange salad on the plate before her, collecting a few pine nuts on her fork before skewering a mouthful of greens as silence fell between them again.

Fuck - this was just as awkward as she thought it would be - he was probably regretting suggesting this in the first place…

“What do you make of the wine?” 

Oh good, they were going to make small talk about what they were drinking: one of the most blatant indications that a date was going terribly.

“It’s nice. Refresh me on its origin?” 

He set down his fork and held up his own glass to the candlelight, swirling the semi-translucent garnet vintage and watching it recede down the sides, observing its legs discerningly. “Quite enigmous, truth be told: an entire crate of bottles was left sitting outside the main gate of the Necropolis over a decade ago with no note, no shipping manifest, each bottle containing this same wine - Adirondack Red, according to the label, bottled on well… a date that falls outside the format of any Chantry, Tevinter, or Elven calendars going back to the beginning of dated history.” He angled the glass and dipped his nose into the bowl, nostrils flaring slightly as he took in the fragrance of the wine. He took a sip, letting it roll over his tongue before smiling pleasantly at Amina. “Could it be the mystery of it that makes it taste so scintillating, or does it stand on its own merit?”

“Mhmm…” Amina breathed, realizing she hadn’t blinked in over a minute - she’d been tracking Emmrich’s every move with a gaze that was nothing short of predatory… hungry. The heat that simmered deep in her core flared and sparked, embers of its existence rising up through her like molten sap spitting from a piece of burning pine. “Merit…”

He set the glass down, folding his long fingered hands together in front of him to lean forward slightly, his expression soft and inquisitive.

“Forgive me if I come across as overly familiar, dear, but I feel I must ask: are you nervous?”

Her eyes darted from his, looked at his hands, his wine glass, his own half-finished salad - anywhere but at him. “I… I uh…”

Andraste’s ashes, she felt like a dull-minded idiot whenever she opened her mouth around him.

His hand found hers on her side of the table, covering it and imparting a gentle squeeze.

“I’m… yes. Yes, I suppose I am.” she finally admitted, staring at his hand on hers, still unable to meet his eyes.

“So am I.” 

That did it. 

His thumb danced over her skin, sending welcome jolts of sensation up her arm. She dared to lift her gaze to find him regarding her with a look of understanding affection, his moustache quirked slightly, following the curve of his soft smile. “Does that put your mind somewhat at ease?” 

“Yes, actually,” she managed, her voice wavering slightly. “Thank you, Emmrich.” 

“Think nothing of it, darling.” He lifted her hand over the table and pressed his lips against the backs of her fingers. “Do try to enjoy yourself - tonight is only for us: there is no expectation, nor misplaced assumption… not on my part, at least.”

He was right: it wasn’t that he was telling her to pretend she was having a nice time for the benefit of his ego. He truly did want her to relax, loosen up, and just… be. 

“It’s been uh… quite awhile since I’ve spent time with someone like this. I think I’ve forgotten how.” Despite the self-deprecating statement she felt some of the tension in her shoulders release as Emmrich set her hand back down on the table, and she felt safe enough to laugh a little.

His own chuckle of amusement joined hers and he sat back and picked up his fork again. “I daresay I find myself in a similar predicament, dear Rook, but I can’t think of better company in which to reacquaint myself with such things.”

Maker’s breath he’s smooth…

They finished their salad and the remaining courses with much more ease, conversation flowing as effortlessly between them as it had since Amina started taking him up on his daily invitations to tea instead of diligently avoiding him as she had in those early days in the Lighthouse. 

They covered the standard array of dinner date conversation topics: favourite colours, exactly how long it had been since either of them had been in a relationship, and what attracted them to each other in the first place. It was predictable, typical fare that neither tread too far into the realms of disclosing any damning personal flaws, nor deflected enough to draw suspicion that the other was being deliberately obfuscating. 

Normally Amina loathed this brand of superficial small talk - it really didn’t tell one much about a person - nothing important, at any rate. But perhaps it was the Adirondack wine, heady and rich, curiously rife with something that could only be described as magic. Or it could have been the way she kept catching faint whiffs of his fresh, mossy cologne when he waved his hands through the air as he spoke, but as traditionally banal as the topics were, she found herself hanging onto his every word: watching the shape his mouth made as he enunciated certain vowels and consonants, savouring the charming lilt of his tone and how she could nearly pinpoint the exact place in his chest from which his voice resonated…

Then of course there was the food itself: a varied and inspired spread that incorporated an exotic bevy of ingredients that Amina knew to be aphrodisiac in nature: figs and pomegranates, saffron, and spicy peppers that were sweet on her tongue but left her lips tingling, blood-flushed, and tantalizingly swollen. 

There was no overlooking the sensual tone of the menu, each course arranged like art on the plate; each morsel designed to arouse and stimulate all five of the senses: it was a meal designed to impress - and to seduce: to make plain his desire for her in the form of an elegant, sophisticated proposition. 

Yet here they were, well into dessert (a sinful dark chocolate gateau that was decadent and rich, but didn’t leave her feeling overfull) still trading surface based small talk and polite compliments: they might as well have been at the annual Wintersend Ball put on for all the Watchers, surrounded by colleagues and apprentices.

It was frustrating to say the least: her arousal had made itself known over the course of the evening; blood rushing to her sex, engorging her as she shifted in her chair, bare upper thighs damp as Emmrich prattled on about flowers. 

Amina set her fork lengthways across her bare plate and dabbed at the corners of her lips with her napkin before neatly folding it and placing it atop the plate as well. “That was delicious.” 

Emmrich finished the last bite of his gateau as well and his fork hovered over his plate as his eyes locked on her mouth and he leaned forward, “You’ve got… there’s a bit of chocolate still–” he laughed - not the cruel, jeering laugh she imagined earlier, but one of charmed endearment - and tapped the left corner of his mouth, “-here.”

Amina probed her tongue around the corner in question, “There?”

It was Emmrich’s turn to look bashful, blushing slightly as he shook his head and lifted a hand towards her, pausing midway to ask, “May I?” She nodded and his thumb found the corner of her mouth, delicately sweeping up the chocolate in question. 

He had been about to draw back, pleased that the offending confectionary had been satisfactorily dealt with, but Amina - having spent months dancing around this man, and having officially tired of it as of this moment - caught his wrist and drew his thumb across her lower lip, parting her mouth just enough to lick the bittersweet smudge from his fingertip, smiling when his eyes widened slightly at her audacity as she gently dragged the pad of his thumb over her bottom teeth.

“So chivalrous,” she noted, a hush to her voice that could no longer be attributed to nerves.

He reddened further, swallowed, and managed to take his hand back, promptly scooping up the dregs of his wine as he retreated back to his side of the table. His other hand, Amina observed, had vanished under the table for a fleeting moment and was accompanied by a slight shifting in his seat that did absolutely nothing to quell her very active imagination. 

He was nervous, the fact made abundantly clear now that she was actively flirting with him instead of staying within the safe, unthreatening confines of civilized conversation that he was most comfortable in. 

He wanted to bed her. He wanted to take that next massive step forward in their relationship. Why else would he have used his sway to have the Gardens cordoned off for the night just for them? Why else would he have conceptualized a culinary experience so blatantly steeped in raw erotic overtones? She knew Emmrich well enough by now to know that he didn’t make oblivious mistakes when it came to romantic gestures.  

She was more than willing to partake in his flesh if he was keen on hers, so why the hesitance?

Clumsy silence reigned once more as a skeletal servant cleared away their dessert plates and placed a stemmed cordial glass filled with an opaque daffodil coloured liqueur in front of each of them.

Knowing full well what it was, Amina plucked the delicate glass from the table with fingers that were deceptively gentle despite the scarred, gnarled state of them. “What have we here?” She asked Emmrich as the servant shuffled away. 

“Antivan Limón - a vivacious digestif that rounds out a fine meal quite nicely.” He lifted his own between his thumb and forefinger, immediately appearing relieved to be talking about drinks again.

She sipped it, savouring the bright, tart flavour as it pirouetted over her taste buds like a crisp summer breeze: light and vivacious indeed. “Mmmm… it is lovely.” She lowered the glass but didn’t set it down, softly tapping her lacquered fingernails against the patterned crystal. She looked up at Emmrich and treated him to the same soft, kind smile he’d shown her earlier. “Forgive me if I come off as overly familiar, Emmrich, but I feel I must ask: are you nervous?”

The cordial glass wobbled in his hand at her words and he used the other to steady it before putting it down on the table where it would be safe.

“I suppose I am,” he admitted, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards at the familiarity of this conversation.

“So am I,” she quipped, and she leaned over the table to place a soft kiss on his heated cheek, then the quaint line of his smile, etched into his skin from so many years of the kindness and compassion that he gave so freely; then the corner of his mouth. Then she kissed him fully, her tongue feathering past her lips to taste the summery limón that clung to his. He parted for her and she slipped into his mouth, caressing his tongue with her own for only the barest moment before pulling away and sinking back down into her chair. “Does that put your mind somewhat at ease?”

“It does,” he breathed, looking bemused, evidently not yet trusting himself to pick up the cordial glass again. Instead, he studied her, his rich hazel eyes taking in every detail of her hair, her face, and her bare shoulders. “You look truly ravishing tonight, dear.”

Emboldened, Amina smoothed the front of the low cut satin blouse with one hand, pushing her shoulders back and her chest out. “You mentioned that when we met at the eluvian earlier, but I don’t mind hearing it again.” 

The wine. It had to be the wine. And now the limón which was considerably stronger was making its way through her bloodstream too, and perhaps she should stop now before she made a complete fool of herself, but…

“What do you think of my shoes? I bought them just for tonight.” She slammed her heels back down into the shoes in question and lifted her feet under the table, depositing them tidily into Emmrich’s lap, causing him to jump with such abruptness that the table shifted and the candles wobbled, “Sorry,” she demurred, reaching out to steady a candlestick to keep it from falling over.

He looked down at the shiny, midnight blue shoes in his lap, the pointed toes catching veilfire and wisplight, his mouth wonderfully agape.

“They’re… they’re lovely, dear…” He rasped, his hands disappearing from the surface of the table to softly caress the leather against his fingers, curling them around the sides of her feet and tracing the shape of the expensive shoes, finding the silken texture of her stockings as they wandered towards her ankles. Something changed in his expression then - like he’d woken up and come to his senses. She half expected him to shove her feet off of him and admonish her for her lack of decorum. Instead he looked up at her, his eyes burning with passion. “But they’re hurting you.”

“They’re not,” she lied, tossing back another sip of limón. 

“My valiant, stalwart Reaper,” he tutted. “You do our order credit with your devotion, don’t you?” His hands curved beneath her ankles and his thumbs hooked under the pitch of the shoes, popping them free from her soles. “You concealed your discomfort admirably until we were two thirds of our way through the Vault of The Beloved.”

She flicked her hair, maintaining nonchalance even though every one of his calculated touches filled her with a ravenous need for more - for all of him - as much as he would give her. “That’s ridiculous. This is hardly my first time wearing shoes in this style.”

“Oh I’ve seen you traipse around the Lighthouse in shoes like these often enough…” he murmured, his fingers and palms still roving over her feet and ankles tenderly. Had the candles just dimmed slightly? “...and I consider myself to be quite capable of discerning the difference between your comfortable stride, and your belaboured one: I am familiar with the finer points of anatomy.”

Oh. Well that was certainly a response. A response that was… dripping with entendre?

“Been watching me, have you, love?” Her eyebrow raised, her heart made itself comfortable somewhere in the vicinity of her throat. 

“I can’t help myself, you see, though I have tried to compose myself and observe you with the deference you deserve…” He tugged the shoes fully from her feet and set them on the ground next to him, enfolding her tiny, pedicured toes in his large, warm hands. “But try as I may, I see glimpses of you in nearly everything I perceive of late: your smile fades through beams of dusty sunlight; a verdant gaze regards me from every living thing in Harding’s greenhouse… I fear I am bewitched, darling Amina, yet the eye does not go wanting when it has the privilege of looking upon you. If I am indeed under your spell, it is surely the happiest curse in existence.” 

His thumbs curved into the balls of her feet, cradling her arch and working slow circles into the tense, cramped joints as she took in his words - played them over in her mind… lived in them.

She didn’t know what she’d been expecting him to say, but it… it wasn’t that. 

“Emmrich…” she sighed, taking another mouthful of limón and letting her head fall back. The stupid shoes were agony, but his fingers were rapidly undoing the damage they’d done.

“They are stunning shoes, for what it’s worth.” He gathered her right foot in both his hands and began languidly massaging, “But you needn’t sacrifice your comfort in an effort to impress - I assure you: you’ve already accomplished that.” 

Unable to help herself anymore at his words, her left foot dallied, stretched, and found what it was looking for - the growing bulge in his pants, pinned against his thigh. She curled her toes against it, marking the catch of Emmrich’s breath and the flutter of his eyelids as she felt him under her toes, her heart beating faster, mouth going dry, touching for the first time this aspect of his anatomy that she had so often fantasized about late at night in her room, her own fingers moving inside her as she fucked herself to climax imagining they were his hard, hot cock pounding into her instead. 

It was her favourite thing to think about recently.

“Is this alright?” She asked, watching his throat bob; watching his eyes glass over and then darken with lust.

“Yes,” he whispered, his voice straining as he watched her continue rubbing her petite, stocking-clad foot against his hard, clothed cock under the table. “Oh… darling, yes…” 

Amina swallowed the last of her limón and set the glass on the table, tugging her right foot from Emmrich’s hand and softly caressing his cock with both feet now. “Don’t worry about me, Emmrich: I knew exactly what I was getting into when I selected those shoes.” 

His fingers clasped over her toes again and stroked her feet over his length, his hips arcing subtly into her soles. “I had rather been hoping we might get to know one another better tonight, but I must say: I didn’t anticipate dessert taking this turn,” he murmured, something even more sinful than the chocolate gateau dwelling in his smile.

“Would you like me to stop?” She meant it: she wanted him to enjoy himself, not feel uncomfortable.

“Of course not–”

She traced the shape of him with her flawless feet again, coaxing a soft hiss from him. 

“But we should–”

“- get out of here?” She finished for him. “Indulge in a nightcap back at the Lighthouse?” 

Neither of them were inexperienced in this arena: they both knew that ‘a nightcap’ consisted of Emmrich burying himself to the hilt between her legs, and both of them finally finding the release they craved after what felt like an eternity of yearning for one another. 

“That sounds like a marvelous idea, dear.” He nodded tightly, threw back his entire glass of limón in a single go, and slipped Amina’s shoes back on her feet before standing, the front of his pants visibly straining as he swept around to her side of the table and pulled her chair away from the table - gentlemanly even in his haste to leave this place. 

Amina rose to her feet with Emmrich’s hand and twined her fingers between his as he began to lead her from the table, snagging their coats from the nearby coat rack and draping them over his forearm, concealing his arousal from anyone they might might pass by on their route back to the eluvian. 

She managed not to limp the distance to the doors of the garden, and before they left the gardens behind, Amina halted and squeezed his hand. “Wait - before we go: this was beautiful,” she looked over her shoulder at the candlelit table, now empty. “It was the most thoughtful, heartfelt dinner anyone’s ever arranged for me, and…” she saw some of the urgency leave his face: his brows softened, his jaw relaxed. “Emmrich… I’m… I’m so glad I met you.” 

And she stood on her toes and curled her fingers around the back of his neck, bringing her lips to his in a bruising kiss that caused him to rock back half a step, throwing his free hand back to catch himself before they tumbled backwards into a hedge from the momentum. 

When he was sure he steadied himself, he leaned forward into the kiss, carding his fingers through her silky hair, returning her enthusiasm with a muffled groan as he licked into her mouth, tasting her lips and her tongue, feeling the smoothness of her teeth and the warm, wet heat of her. 

He pulled away, pupils blown wide, cradling her jaw in his hand as he looked down at her, a thin strand of saliva still connecting them both. “And I you, my sweet Amina,” he breathed. “I only regret that it took so long for us to find one another.” 

“Oh I fully intend on making up for lost time,” she purred, gently adjusting his treasured collar pin, worrying at her lower lip with her teeth. “Don’t you worry about that.” Her fingers drifted from the pin to his jaw, feeling the realness of him against her flesh. “What I am concerned about is a matter of logistics: where, my handsome suitor, do you propose we enjoy our nightcap?”

Surely he had a bed. She’d never actually asked, but it would be lunacy for him to pack Manfred through the eluvian, back to the Necropolis and up the lift a few dozen levels to his apartment every night… wouldn’t it? There was no way he slept in his armchair or at his desk - not when she’d seen the slow, tentative way he’d unfold from a sitting position sometimes, and heard the brittle cracking of his poor knees as they straightened, worn ligaments and tendons protesting.

She was thirty-six and her knees weren’t in much better condition due to the physical demands of her vocation: she could sympathize, and for that reason, she knew if he didn’t have a bed, he most definitely would have made it everybody’s problem by now. 

Oh no, he had a bed, and tonight she was going to learn where in the damned Lighthouse it was, and then she was going to fuck him in it until he couldn’t think straight.

He shouldered the door open, and guided her over the threshold before him, taking care to close the heavy slate doors behind him before turning to her, his eyes glinting. “As it turns out, I do in fact have a bed, darling - did you assume I slept in the laboratory, standing upright like a horse?”

“Of course not: that would be silly.” 

“Tremendously,” he concurred, his moustache twitching with a wry smile the instant before he swept one arm around her shoulders, the other behind her knees. 

“Hey–!” She warbled out, startled at this new development, and her feet left the ground as he scooped her up, cradling her to his chest, the coats still draped over his forearm.

“You didn’t actually think I was going to let you hobble the entire way back home, did you, dear?”

Home. He’d said home…

Amina knew her face was beetroot as she scrambled for words. “You - you could have just magically healed my feet!” She squirmed halfheartedly in his grip and he snorted in amusement, his breath washing over her face. 

“Now where would be the fun in that?” He teased, kissing her nose and setting off down the corridor through the cavernous vault. “But if you find it truly undignified, I’ll gladly set you down and take a moment to tend to your feet...” 

She glanced up at him. He was looking ahead to make sure he didn’t trip on anything and send them flying. The sharp angles of his cheeks and jaw stood out against the dusty tomb light diffused throughout the vault, and he still looked well-pleased with himself as he strode onwards, not struggling at all with the task of hauling her bones around. 

“I suppose this isn’t so bad…” She leaned her head close to Emmrich’s neck and nuzzled into the expanse of exposed skin between his collar and his jawline, inhaling deeply, filling herself with the comforting scent of him. “My hero… whatever would I do without you?”

He crooked his neck against her ministrations, her breath tickling him - or arousing him - she was unsure which. “I’m hardly a hero, darling - just a gentlem—“

“Professor Volkarin!”

Oh dear.

She felt Emmrich go rigid under her and he turned to address whomever had called out to him: it was an apprentice mage - a young man, no older than nineteen with a shock of curly red hair and a pointy little beard growing from the very tip of his chin.

His eyes went from Emmrich to Amina, then back to Emmrich, widening the entire time.

“Oh - I - s-sorry Professor, I didn’t know you - uh - I know you’ve been… away… b-but I was w-wondering if you could help me understand a few things about uh… Ley lines and their relation to dowsing and other methods of cyclomancy. You see, I’m running into some difficulty wi–”

“Hamish.” Emmrich’s interjection wasn’t unkind, but there was a firmness in his tone that garnered respect and immediately shut Hamish up. “I have absolute faith that a young man of your intelligence doesn’t require a dowsing rod to divine the truth of the matter, which is that I am presently indisposed–”

Amina buried her face in Emmrich’s shoulder to conceal her grin and stifle the giggle that slipped past her lips. 

“— now be on your way and submit your questions to me in writing and I shall respond in due course when time permits. Now: good evening to you.” The farewell was delivered with curt finality that indicated the matter was not up for debate, and Amina peeked up from Emmrich’s shoulder to see Hamish soundlessly opening and closing his mouth as he struggled to come to terms with the abject horror of accidentally interrupting his professor during what was obviously a romantic evening. 

“Y-yes - of course! Good - good evening to you, Professor…” he bowed jerkily to Emmrich. “Lady.” He tipped his head further down and then turned and fled so quickly Amina thought he Fade-stepped away. Perhaps he had.

When she trusted the lad was out of earshot, Amina laughed properly, curling her fingers into the worn but lovingly kept material of Emmrich’s waistcoat. “I think poor Hamish thinks he’s ruined your chances with me and destroyed his career because of it.”

“Hmm…” Emmrich mused. “I suppose that depends: did young Hamish spoil the evening with his uncouth interruption?”

“Not even close.” She licked his neck - planted a wet, sucking kiss on the hot flesh there.

“Then he has nothing to fear,” he declared, tilting his head down and claiming Amina’s lips in one more deep kiss before setting off again towards the eluvian.

Towards home.

[catofadifferentcolor]

Terrible Fic Ideas #8: DA:I, but make it female!spirit!Inquisitor

If you haven't noticed, I've been on a Dragon Age kick lately. One of my favorite AUs is A Herald Named Desire by ushauz, wherein the male Qunari Inquisitor is really a desire demon in disguise. It's a lovely story - the discussions on slavery and religion and agency make me insanely jealous I didn't write them, and the whole chapter covering why exactly Anders blew up the Chantry is A+++ - if occasionally too cracky for my tastes.

But also made me wonder: what if the Inquisitor was a Spirit of Curiosity?

aka the A Curious Thing Happened on the Way to the Conclave fic

Just imagine it:

Normally the only thing that exists in the Fade are spirits and demons. A mortal falling out of it makes no sense. So instead of one of the default Inquisitors falling out of the rift we get a Spirit of Curiosity who was, well, curious about the Conclave.

I suppose any spirit would do, but I want a Curiosity spirit because the idea of a happy-go-lucky Inquisitor who is delighted to be chained to Haven's chantry floor, asking a thousand questions a minute of her captors from why am I here? to why is it so cold? to oh, is this what pain feels like? I don't think I like it amuses me greatly.

Cassandra and company aren't inclined to believe the spirit (whom I will call Aisling from here on out) is actually a spirit. Instead she assumes Aisling is exactly what she looks like: a young Dalish elf who has never left her clan before and may be a touch soft in the head. It’s not until they run across Varric, who confirms that Hawke’s apostate informant and paramour from The Tale of the Champion was really cover for the spirit who basically grew up alongside Hawke, whom he is disgustingly in love with.

Which is to say: young!Aisling came across young!mage!Hawke while he was dreaming in the Fade and the two became fast friends and, later, romantic interests. This has the side effect of 1) causing Bethany and Leandra to survive, because Aisling is always poking about and watching while Hawke is awake, and 2) all of their dating has been done in the Fade while Hawke is dreaming, which is difficult to say the least, though he's aware of her to some degree while he's awake.

Also, a Hawke that has a tendency to ask a thousand questions, because he knows Aisling is watching and dying to ask them herself.

Either way, you now have a Spirit of Curiosity as Herald of Andraste. (And, later, as an inquisitive Inquisitor.)

The plot basically proceeds as in canon, but with the side effect of both the mages and the templars being recruited - because if Aisling asks why not? enough times eventually everyone gives in.

Hawke shows up earlier too - probably right after the first trip to the Hinterlands - and makes a scene while doing it. It starts with him demanding they release Aisling (believing her to be bound and forced to work with the Inquisition) and ends with Aisling throwing herself into Hawke's arms like a scene out of a rom-com. It's disgustingly saccharine.

Fenris also tags along, because getting him and Dorian in a room together is something I want desperately in DA4. (Romance or bromance, dealer's choice here.)

There's some tension over whether Corypheus can bind Aisling, as with Cole. Unlike with Cole, it turns out she doesn't need an amulet because she bound herself to Hawke when she was newly formed. Some angst with this, as Hawke worries this means he forced their whole relationship, but quickly resolved as fluff is the goal.

Add in a whole bunch of embarrassing shenanigans regarding what it means for an immaterial spirit to suddenly become flesh, starting with does she need to eat? sleep?, reaching an embarrassing height with will she menstruate and who will explain reproduction to her if she does?, and concluding with Hawke and Aisling stumbling through non-Fade sex for the first time.

But mostly its happy-go-lucky eager-puppy Inquisitor who loves talking and asking questions of almost anyone; a charming Hawke tagalong who loves watching the chaos his oldest friend and lover (not always inadvertently) creates with her questions; and the Inquisition slowly learning that just because Aisling comes across as painfully young and naive doesn't mean she doesn't understand what's going on or is incapable of taking care of herself.

Bonuses include: 1) Dorian and Hawke constantly having to keep an eye on how much time Aisling spends in Skyhold's library, because she'd spend every second reading at the expense of basic self-care if allowed; 2) at least one instance of Aisling asking increasingly personal questions of a disagreeable noble until they stomp off in an embarrassed rage, at which point those watching realize that she was doing it intentionally to get the horrible man to go away; and 3) Aisling conducting what amounts to a lot of cognitive therapy and/or socratic questioning with nearly every troubled, troubled member of the Inquisition, to varying degrees of success.

And, of course, every joke that can possibly be made about a curious, questioning, inquisitive Curiosity Spirit running the Inquisition.

As always, feel free to borrow, just let me know if you do.

More Terrible Fic Ideas

[theheraldsrest]

“Companions (+Scout Harding and Varric) when they realized they were in love? Thank you, have a good day!”

Heehee, hooho, I’m very tired. We both work with schools and sometimes it gets hectic. Had one kid who knew what Dragon Age was and went on an entire rant about how wrong the Qun is. I’m so proud of him.

-LordLex

Cullen

-Kept brushing it off, could only see it as admiration. How you held yourself through different obstacles, being made the Herald, having to fight off waves of enemies and looking to help the people, it was truly a sight to see

-But then you started coming by to see him more often, even if you just spoke. Why did he keep stuttering? And he couldn’t stop himself from glancing over at you. Were you looking at him, just now, as well?

-Tried to keep up his professionalism but couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face when he saw you approaching him or when your voice came out of nowhere.

-And after helping him with his personnel quest, Maker help this man. He can’t help but to look for you whenever he leaves his study, listening for your voice or laughter. Love is complicated and Cullen sure as hell knows nothing about it.

Josephine

-She had lost all hope after the attack on Haven, thinking that all that you did was for nothing and it only ended up with you getting killed. But you saved so many lives and-there you were, alive. Injured but alive.

-Compared to most of the people she meets, you were very well mannered, not trying to gain favor, but honestly cared for her when you asked her if she wanted to talk for a second. Josey didn’t think much of it but started to enjoy the time spent with you, the conversations you’d have.

-At some point, she started to take mental notes about such small things: your favorite food, where you came from, what makes your nose wrinkle and what makes your lips turn up into that wonderful smile.

-She felt horrible about getting you involved in her family business but, when it came down to it, she wouldn’t have any regrets, thinking you two had grown closer through this experience

Solas

-You caught his eye and it wasn’t just because of the mark. You were...different. That’s the closest word he could connect you to. You were strong and powerful but also kind and gentle. Working with those around and yet you’d also be by yourself with a thoughtful look.

- He fell in love when you started asking for his advice Kidding, but he does get very excited when you start questioning about magical studies and the fade and the history behind certain artifacts

-He tries to distance himself from everyo1ne but you always seem to pull him back, pull him into conversations, going out of your way to spend time with him, even when you didn’t even seem to understand what he was saying

-With his personnel quest, he’s completely taken by you. You do so much for others, for him, when you really should care for yourself. He doesn’t want to feel this way, he doesn’t want anything to do with mortals. But you...you’re a different story.

Cassandra

-It’s been a hell of a ride for Cassandra on the rollercoaster of emotions. First she despises you, then gives you an inkling of doubt, then suddenly she values you as a friend. And now...flirting?! How dare you

-When you started to change your tactics and be more direct, she continued to try and brush them off as nothing more than friendliness. Sometimes would humor the idea, but you had more important matters to deal with

-Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast does not fall in love, there’s too much to do and too much to take care of. And with the Inquisitor no less! Preposterous! She could lie to herself but that didn’t change how she’d drop whatever she was doing to talk to you

-Even with her personal quest out of the way, she has more emotions to sort through, including what she thought was admiration for you

The Iron Bull

-Bull doesn’t ‘fall in love’, it’s always just someone curious or someone wanting some company or something new. Never ‘in love’ and he didn’t think that would ever be something he’d have. He’s a soldier, meant to be used

-Started out as admiration. Was impressed with how you handled yourself and the inquisition. It’s not easy being a leader when you’re thrown head-first into war with a darkspawn

-Starts to question his feelings a bit after helping him during his quest. There’s still admiration, but with every touch, with every word, there was something else. Maybe he just appreciated you more?

-And then you brought him the other half of a dragon tooth. He had spoken about it so off-handedly, not expecting anything further from it and yet here you were, wishing to commit yourself to him. It was that moment that he truly fell in love with his boss.

Dorian

-Doesn’t seem like it, but he’s a romantic. He used to picture the perfect life with someone he truly loves, but since the issues with his family, he had basically given up on that life. Until you

-Most of his partners so far were just flings, so you can bet that he thinks he’s sick when he starts feelings butterflies in his stomach around you or looking to you to lend an ear

-He’s not used to someone caring for what he has to say or actually treating him more than that ‘evil magister from tevinter’, he likes it but is so confused

-He wants to accept these feelings but he’s so unsure of himself, so unsure if this is more than just another one of his flings. Gods, he hopes it is

Sera

-She doesn’t much care for relationships or ‘caring’ or ‘feelings’. If someone’s fun, she’s gonna hang around them more often. Nothing more to it

-Except it’s more than that with you. You’re big and important, nobles talk about you like you’re one of them and lower class praise you like Andraste gave birth to you, but you don’t hold yourself like any of that. You’re not a prick, you’re a goof and you actually enjoy Sera’s company

-She’s so excited when she sees you coming, when you look to her, you’re so easy to read and it’s easy to make you smile and laugh and- Sera’s falling for you

-She’s so inexperienced with these things, she doesn’t know what to do and she doesn’t want to screw up what you two already have. So, for now, she’ll lay low, admiring from a distance

Blackwall

-Blackwall respects the person you are. A fierce warrior but at the same time a kind leader. And he knows you respect him as well, as a person and as one of your companions

-He didn’t know he had more feelings than that till you started to flirt with him. He would have never considered it, not because he didn’t like you, but because he didn’t think he’d ever have that kind of chance with someone

-He pushes them down, trying to convince himself that he didn’t deserve it. You don’t want him, you’d be making a mistake. He could hurt you, he could hurt who you are. But sometimes he’d slip up, let something show

-After his quest, he fully believes that now you’ll truly see he doesn’t deserve you, but he’d forever love you

(Bonus!)

Varric

-Love is a touchy subject. Sure, he knew how to write it and a lot of his readers lapped it up, but that was only from witnessing it and experiencing the worst of it

-Who’d have thunk that he’d become rather attached to the Inquisitor, seeing them as the person they were before the mark, treating them as if they were anyone else, but always offering a shoulder if needed

-He’d worry for you, watch over you, making sure you were ok and not pushing yourself. It wasn’t until he saw you come back from the fade that he realized he cared for you, more than he ever cared for Bianca. Even Hawke would ask if he’s crazy

-Also tries to convince himself that he doesn’t deserve these feelings. You can be so close to someone without them knowing how you feel and it hurts. He had to go through it once, he doesn’t know if he can do it again

(Scout) Lace Harding

-Honestly, she hadn’t planned for you. How could she? She joined the inquisition to help and was made as one of the main scouts for the Inquisitor. She hadn’t planned on the Inquisitor having pleasant conversations with her on the few times they meet, even some playful banter

-She also didn’t plan on seeing you more often when the inquisition was moved to Skyhold. Before now, she had one of the most well-spoken attitude, but with you around she’d stumble over her own words, hitting herself for saying anything embarrassing

-She both hoped she was and wasn’t imagining the flirting, it gave her some hope that maybe you felt the same but also that maybe it was some sort of game.

-She did enjoy your company and, when given the chance, the drinks you two would share. If only you could do this more often, but then she’d be completely smitten with you

[marabrosca]

[REUPLOAD] - What You Seek Will Find You (Cullen x Lavellan)

a commission for @cullenvhenan with her OC immy 

words: 3k

summary: Cullen reflects on his heart's desires, and comes to the one thing he wants the most. (Cullen’s pov fic and his falling in love with Imryll Lavellan)

tags: pining, soft, romance, kissing

warning: contains mentions of racism/colorism but is never directly said to any poc

Read it on AO3

It was uncomfortable to see a chantry half full, Cullen decided. He couldn’t remember a time where he and his family would attend a sermon, and be joined by only a dozen people. The chantry in his youth accommodated with every seat and then some, as many late arrivals would continue to listen to the Revered Mother’s litany whilst standing in the back by the front door. Having the room be so scarce, having so many pews be empty, made the ceremony feel far more serious and intimidating than intended.

It was here that Cullen would be fulfilling his dream of joining the Templar Order, taking his vows and swearing to protect Thedas at the behest of the Andraste Herself. He peered over at the towering statue of the prophet, Her pyre burning brightly but expanding no more light into the room than a few candles. He felt himself shrink into his armor, picking nervously at his embroidered skirt as Andraste’s stone eyes bore into him. It was a dull service he had to admit. A withered old chantry Sister recited the Chant Of Light in an almost monotone voice, pausing every few lines to include the sacred blessings given to those joining the Order.

Cullen had practiced his vows more times than he could count. There were formal promises to make, but they came strictly with a list. When he had been given the list, the scroll lay heavy in his hands. The gold ribbon around it had made it seem as resplendent as the Chantry’s interior, and no less important than the impression it made. Each Templar was to choose their own vows, their own honest promises to the Maker.

Everyone is different, and we are all here for different reasons. But now we join as one, and must do what is expected of us. Therefore, it is the responsibility of one who chooses to walk the path of sacrifice, to pave the road they walk on.

It was something that was repeated to him in the upcoming weeks of the ceremony. There were many ways, as it turned out, to prove one’s faithfulness to the Maker. There was fasting, sacrificing of material goods (not that Templars had many personal items to begin with), excessive prayer, public preaching, and at least ten other things that Cullen could remember. There was only one that gave him pause: chastity, and the detachment to romantic relations, even within marriage. Cullen felt weak for admitting it, but the idea of a future in solitude wasn’t exactly appealing. Not that it was supposed to be. The idea was that a Templar-to-be would set aside personal desire and focus solely on duty, devoting themselves entirely to their service.

But Cullen saw no reason why he couldn’t do both. A part of him, a part he hid from others, was enamored with the idea of marriage. He’d caught himself many times dreaming of the day his soul-mate would enter his life, accepting the promise to live in each other’s hearts. It was indulgent and juvenile, but he wondered if perhaps one day he’d be in chantry taking entirely different vows than the ones he would proclaim that day. As far as Cullen could see, there were no obstacles in finding someone who was Andrastian. They’d have to be, wouldn’t they? Followers of the chantry and the Maker filled every space in Ferelden, and certainly he wouldn’t be traveling far from Kinloch Hold after the ceremony. Frankly, there was no reason to worry.

The young man heard his name and he stood, almost too quickly, and shuffled out of the pew, making his way to the Revered Mother. She looked at him with a kind smile, and he bowed his head in response. The woman’s hand hovered above him, pausing.

“Have you prepared your promises to the Maker, accepting His blessing as a holy child and servant of Andraste?” “Yes.” He replied firmly, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

-

Decades had passed since that day, disappearing like a dream interrupted by daylight. At no point would Cullen expect anything he had experienced, or where he was now. Snow crunched under his boots as he surveyed twenty new recruits to the Inquisitor’s forces- the DalishInquisitor – yet they served just as devout to the chantry as he had once been. An uncomfortable, heavy force weighed on him at the thought; a reminder of his skewed mind from the past. It was a part of him he didn’t want to forget, so that he would never become that man again. He didn’t, however, want it to swallow him whole. That part was harder.

Two of the newest recruits, George and Elliott, were sent to fetch a requisition officer that had been surveying the Storm Coast for some time. The men seemed eager, and promising, and gave off an air of charisma that delivered a boost in morale. Soon enough they returned with the aforementioned officer. She was a tall, lanky elf with pale skin and large, striking emerald eyes. Her black hair fell to her mid-back, lips pink and puffy in the cold. Cullen greeted her politely, taking the missives from her hands as she smiled pleasantly at him. The officer followed Cullen to the desk planked beside the staircase extending from the ramparts. He didn’t miss the almost pungent smell of perfume on her, but made no comment. The commander settled the forms into a neat pile, getting ready to turn to his scouts, when he looked up and noticed that she was still standing there. He cleared his throat when she did not have anything to say. “Thank you, Deanna, for going out of your way.”

“No problem at all, Commander.” The elf smiled at him, folding her hands behind her back.

“Ah…was there something else you needed?” Deanna twirled a finger through a lock of hair, her cheeks turning pinker than before.

“Actually, I was wondering if you were busy tonight.” She replied, eyeing the desk quickly before settling her sights on his face. George and Elliott watched the sight, impressed with their Commander’s obliviousness to her body language.

“As it happens, I am very busy tonight,” Cullen answered, turning and handing the papers over to a scout without pause. “There is still much work to be done if Skyhold is to ever be inhabitable. And I fear the most difficult challenges are yet to come. Why? Does something require my attention?” Deanna’s smile sunk to her knees with her shoulders following suit. “Um, no, it was nothing. Thank for your time, Commander.” “And you, as well.” Cullen responded with a nod, watching the elf turn and make her way up the stairs.

-

As busy as the ex-Templar seemed to be, he had set some time aside that evening to have a walk down the ramparts with Inquisitor Imryll. Soon the easy stride had turned to a pause, then to a conversation, then to a kiss. It was clearly unplanned and unexpected- quite the opposite of how Cullen had always carried himself- but there was no doubt in the way Imryll held onto his back and caressed his hair, that she didn’t object to it.

Gossip spread like the Blight within Skyhold regarding the Inquisitor’s supposed “dalliance” with the Commander. A couple of messengers and guards that had been making their way by wasted no time sharing the tale of what they had witnessed, or exaggerating it.

“It was a sweep of passion! He grabbed her and they nearly dipped as if they were dancing!” “I wasn’t that close, so I couldn’t really tell, but Ser Rutherford appeared very harsh with our Lady Inquisitor. Do you think he treats all his women that way?” “She hypnotized him with blood magic, I swear!” The only things the tales had in common was that a kiss was involved, anything else could not be answered, much to the disappointment of the staff who were almost growing bored of the mundane. When the news reached Elliott, he was quick to share what he heard over a drink on the grass with George, who turned his nose up in disgust. “See that, I just don’t get.” “What’s not to get? You don’t know what a kiss is? Do you revolt women that much?” “No, smartass.” George took a swig from his flask before continuing. “I don’t get how someone would, ya know, go for an elf. Does he seem like the type? And that elf on top of it- what’s next, a Qunari?”

Elliott let out a cackling laugh, almost catching his lip between his browning teeth. “Not your type, eh?” “Not anybody’s type.” George tried to adjust himself on the ground, reaffirming his seat in the same spot once the dizziness ceased his actions. “At least you got- at least you got some lookers here, right? Like that one from before…that, uh, Deanna. Them ones with the big eyes and the curves and all- and have you ever seen an elf that was so dark?” “Not before the Inquisitor. Her eyes are black, did you notice? Do you think she’s blind?” “I thought all elves were ivory and lanky and- where did she even come from?” “Somewhere up north.” “Up north, bah.” George, not heeding the warning his body gave him before, took another large gulp. “If you asked me, I’d kiss an ogre any day before I’d even think about kissin’ her. She wouldn’t-”

Before he could finish his ramblings, a pair of hands grabbed them both from behind, lifting them by the collars and onto their feet. George almost vomited, feeling the searing burn shoot up his throat at the assault. Both men turned sharply to be met with the fiery eyes of their Commander. The men could feel their faces turn numb and a pulse beat in the back of their skulls. Elliott dropped his mug without thinking, licking his lips in an attempt to speak.

“Commander-”

“I don’t want to hear another word.” “But-” “Not. One. Word.” Cullen’s teeth stuck out starkly against his reddening face.

The recruits gulped, bugged-eyed as George swayed slightly from the alcohol. Cullen’s gaze locked onto the mug spilling yellow liquid onto the grass. “I see that your night of leisure has given you loose tongues.”

Cullen pondered what kind of punishment should bestow them. Perhaps they were to be bound and brought to the Inquisitor on her throne, and beg at her feet for mercy after confessing their crimes? The idea was enticing, but it was likely the display would embarrass Imryll, and he needn’t put more on her shoulders regarding her reputation. Besides, she hadn’t heard the words herself, so why hurt her feelings? No, that simply wouldn’t do. They needed to learn a lesson…a long-term lesson. Without warning Cullen grabbed them by the collar again and pushed them both face-first into the dirt. “You will clean this mess, and then pack your things. At dawn, you will be deployed to the Hissing Wastes, where you will remain until the hole in the sky is welded shut.” The Hissing Wastes was the most miserable landscape in Thedas Imryll had ventured to that he could think of. It was a constant scorching mass of dry air and sand, flipping the coin completely when all was frozen over at night. Only the most hardened travelers could tolerate its climate. It was a long-lasting punishment for a crime that could permanently scar having landed in Imryll’s ears.

Without another word Cullen turned on his heel and walked back to the fortress, ignoring the groaning coming from behind him. As he moved out of sight, Elliott wobbled down to pick his mug off the ground, and George let go of all the liquid courage in his stomach that had sealed their fates.

-

Days had passed since the new blood of the Inquisition seemingly vanished overnight, but Cullen’s hands still upturned into fists at the memory. He hadn’t been there when they were carted off, but it was reported right before that they wished to beg forgiveness. Cullen dismissed the messenger with a wave of his hand and went back to his business like he was the only one in the room. He scowled, eyeing the ground with intensity as not to scream, a look that caught the eye of the curly-haired elf standing across from him. She walked up to him before he could react, kissing the knot between his eyebrows. All at once he melted, tense muscles going loose for a brief moment as he looked up. Her smile was concerned, and he felt his face relaxing as not to worry her further. “Are you alright?” she asked, grazing the back of her fingers along the side of his face, leaving goose bumps in her wake.

“Yes…I’m fine.” He let out a breath, willing himself to calm down. His hand reached up to grasp hers, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss. It made them both blush, and Imryll’s fingers curled in his grasp.

“I had been wondering this for a while,” she started, not pulling away from his hold.

“That day you kissed me on the battlements…how long had you wanted to do that?”

Cullen couldn’t help but let out a laugh, smiling despite the heat in his cheeks. Her tone wasn’t mischievous, merely curious. A part of him advised against telling her; it was unprofessional at the very least to admit that he had wanted his lips on hers not too long after meeting, before Skyhold, even. Despite not being the best of friends at the time, Cullen found himself gravitating towards her, and desired her approval for more than just reasons regarding their duty.

He smiled sheepishly before finally answering her query.

“Longer than I should admit.”

-

Springtime scarcely differed from winter when it came to living on a mountain. Everyone still wore furs up to their noses and the courtyard was rarely full. Merchant deliverers unloaded their cargo as quickly as they could before ducking into the tavern. Orlesian noblewomen paraded their flower-adorned shifts about, calling attention to their “eye to detail”, modeling their appearance after the Skyhold garden. This, in reality, was meant to turn attention away from their unseemly reddening noses each time they needed to lift their mask and cough into a handkerchief.

Despite this -and despite her own hatred for the cold- Imryll could still be found tending to her plants- the ones that would survive the elements. She frowned as she lifted a limp stem with her finger, disappointed she wouldn’t be able to expand her alchemy skills just yet. Vivienne had warned her it was too early to start studying potions that required foliage, but in an effort to impress her, Imryll had tried it anyway. And now she was thinking of a way to dispose of the dead roots without embarrassing herself.

The sound of familiar footsteps behind her turned her attention away from the frozen soil, lifting her mood in an instant. “There you are. I was worried you’d still be out here.” Cullen sighed.

“Oh, yes. I was seeing how things were going,” she replied, gesturing to the frozen soil “Don’t tell Vivienne.” Cullen chuckled and removed his cloak, draping it over her shoulders.

“You’ll catch cold out here.” His touched his forehead with hers, watching as she scrunched her nose at the tickle of the wind.

“Walk me back?” Imryll guided them the long way around, entwining her arm with Cullen’s. Halfway there her legs had “gone completely numb from the cold”, and their only solution was to duck into an archway that housed a small stone bench. The elf laid her cheek on the part of his armor still covered by cloth, and sighed as his fingers glided down her arm.

“Feeling better?” “Not yet,” she replied, moving ever closer into his arms. Cullen held her tighter, making the Inquisitor smile. Her soft, round cheek was squished up against his chest, and he had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing. The atmosphere was too serene to believe. The moon now overshadowed the sun, leaving the walkway empty aside from them. Imryll gazed out at the greenery that still grew around them. But Cullen’s eyes were transfixed on her. In these escaping moments of peace, he found himself wondering what he would do in the future. If she survived- when she survived the impending battle with Corypheus- what would he do? He had been only a child the last time he lead a normal life, even though nothing for him would be truly normal again. Would she go with him? Would she go back to her clan? His stomach coiled at the thought, as selfish as it was. He wouldn’t blame her for returning to her people when this was all over, but surly he could not join her. The Dalish didn’t welcome humans as passersby, let alone a human lover. What if she left him? Did she not feel as strongly about their relationship as he did? Would she have to choose?

And more importantly, how would he declare the choice he’s made?

He couldn’t imagine a life without her. Despite the hardships and horrors he’s endured, having Imryll walk out of his life would be the breaking point. His gaze solemnly drifted to the bare blackness of the sky, subconsciously tightening his grip on Imryll.  

“Cullen? Is something wrong?” she asked, lifting her head.

“Oh- I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” “No…” the Inquisitor waited for an answer to her question.

“I think we should go back inside. I’m sure you’d be far more comfortable with warm tea in your bed, wouldn’t you say?” Imryll perked up at the thought and reluctantly sat up to stretch.

“Will you be joining me?” Imryll asked over her shoulder, half flirtatiously. “If my lady wishes so.” Cullen responded, chuckling and standing to join her on the walk back to her quarters.

“I do. But is that what you want?”

What I want… Without warning the commander hoisted her up into his arms, leaning his head down to kiss her lips. She let out a yelp before laughing, slapping lightly at his chest as he carried her through the garden. Wind brushed roughly against the pathway flowers, sending a few white petals into the air, catching onto Imryll’s curls. Their white littered the stone, creating an almost snowy effect as he walked. They went unnoticed by Imryll, who was too distracted reaching up to playfully peck at her lover’s chin.

What he wanted…

He knew now more than ever.

-

Imryll had taken some time to teach Cullen threads of Dalish before, but nothing like this.

“Sylaise enaste var aravel…”

The sound of her native tongue caressed his ears. Everything in that moment disappeared except for her; and although he couldn’t understand the words, he felt them in his heart. He wanted her promise to be true, and he trusted that it was.

“I swear unto the Maker and The Holy Andraste to love this woman the rest of my days.”

As the words left his lips, they connected with hers. Perhaps he should have waited until Mother Giselle made the official decree, but he couldn’t wait another moment.

The kiss ended with the faint tickle of Cullen’s breath against her lips. His nose stayed atop hers, soft chestnut eyes barely open beneath his lashes. It was their first kiss as a married couple, a term they could barely comprehend. Cullen sighed blissfully, capturing the moment in his mind down to every detail as the setting sun painted them in golden light, as if the world turned just for them. Imryll’s skin blended with the rays. Her eyes reflected, but were not illuminated by the shine, creating a stark clear surrounding of white around the onyx that seduced him so many times.

Imryll took but a single step before she was whisked off her feet. A surprised yelp quickly turned to giggles as her husband hoisted her into his arms in a true bridal-fashion. Mushy bounced excitedly at Cullen’s feet and wagged his tail, attempting to angle himself so that he could leap up to join Imryll.

“Blasted-get down! I can’t hold the both of you.”

Imryll laughed joyously, taking her lover’s face into her hands.

“How long have you wanted to do that?”

Cullen smiled down at her.

“Longer than I should admit.”

[ms-katonic-of-tamriel]

DAI Playthrough idea

Inquisitor Lucien Flavius Trevelyan.  Ex-Circle mage, mostly content with life in the Ostwick Circle, likes the learning and academic side, does miss his parents, but no inclination to rebel until it was actually happening, at which point he ran off with the rebels because all his friends were doing it. Not religious, no real belief in Andraste whatsoever but kept quiet about it in the Circle.  Since leaving, he’s become a lot more open about his views, and found to his surprise more people than he thought shared them, and there’s enough anger at the Chantry for him to acquire a coterie of fans and fellow freethinkers.  He’s at the Conclave hoping to try and talk some sense into the Templars but it doesn’t go well.

Decisions!

Broadly pro-mage, not very pro-Chantry.  Not anti exactly, but very much not pro either and really doesn’t like the Herald of Andraste title.  Not up to speed on elven issues but the more he learns the angrier he gets at the Chantry, and he does find the culture fascinating.

Goes to Redcliffe to talk to the mages, finds out about the bargain with Tevinter, goes ‘what the actual hell have you done’ and ends up sorting that mess out.  Templars can very much sort themselves out in his mind.  He wasn’t harmed at the Circle but he saw things happen to others.  Gives the mages an alliance.  They were his friends after all.

As Inquisitor he wants to stand for order and justice rather than the faith or revenge and does his best to pick merciful, rational choices where possible. After Adamant, he keeps the Wardens as Inquisition allies, and at Val Royeaux, there’s a good chance of him getting all three parties to work together.  Failing that, he’ll keep Celene as Empress, with or without Briala at her side.  At the Well of Sorrows, Morrigan is getting the power - Lucien hears the words binding geas and goes nope, not for me kthnx.

Romances:

Awkward demisexual who preferred books and studying to anything else, Lucien’s got no romance experience but might consider it for the right person.

Cassandra: too intimidating by far!  Also twice his age.  Even if he was into intimidating older women, Cassandra has expectations of a romantic hero who will sweep her off her feet.  Lucien has no idea where to even start so... doesn’t.  Also she will not shut up about the Maker, and Lucien has spent the past two years becoming a fervent atheist and loving not having priests around any more.  He can’t pretend to be Andrastian for her sake.

Iron Bull: Bull’s stories about his sexploits make Lucien’s eyes pop out and his hair stand on end.  As far as romance goes, Lucien is fleeing in the opposite direction from this one.  They get on well enough, and Lucien’s curious about the Qun... but not curious about anything else, thank you very much.  Still, he cares enough to save Bull from the Qun.

Dorian: a possibility, and Dorian would definitely be interested, but it’s more likely these two will end up as besties rather than boyfriends.  Never say never though. Lucien's really not OK with the way Dorian's family treated him and completely sides with him over it. If Lucien was accidentally flirting with him previously, Dorian might well choose that moment to confess his feelings. Not known how Lucien would respond.

Josephine: most likely out of all of them.  Pretty, cultured, goes out of her way to make Lucien feel at ease, Lucien would likely adore her.  Also the duel scene would be way more poignant with Lucien the inexperienced mage going rapier to rapier with a master duellist for her affections.  Plus they’re both probably demi.

The rest of them:

Cullen: hasn’t got a clue what to make of this somewhat unimpressive young man but he’s who the faithful are rallying around and the only one who can close rifts so he’ll keep him alive.  Becomes steadily more impressed with Lucien over the course of things.  Lucien talks him out of going back on lyrium, having no wish to see anyone shackled by the Circle if they don’t want to be there, even Templars.

Leliana: scares the hell out of him.  “No, don’t murder people!” becomes a common refrain.  However, over time, she softens, he starts to see her less scary side, and he’s able to talk her down from murdering Sister Natalie.  On seeing the change in her after, he’s got no hesitation supporting her for Divine.

Blackwall: they get on rather well!  Lucien respects Blackwall’s experience, always appreciates a big strong fighter to hide behind, and Blackwall’s avuncular nature appeals.  Finding out the truth about him is heartbreaking but Lucien can’t help but rescue him and give him another chance to do better.

Solas: Lucien respects his skills, does rely on his advice, but there’s something a bit off there.  He doesn’t know what though.  He wants to like Solas, but something just rubs him up the wrong way.  Still, he’s a useful companion, they do get on, Solas seems to approve of Lucien’s decision-making on the whole, and Lucien loves asking him about ancient elven culture. He's less keen on the whole 'what if the Veil wasn’t here’ angle though. Solas disappearing will feel like a betrayal and really hurt.

Vivienne: nothing in common at all.  Excellent chance he never recruits her in the first place.  If he does, he spends the entire adventure regretting it.

Varric: takes Lucien under his wing from the outset and looks after him.  Lucien’s appalled by some of Varric’s wilder exploits but does laugh anyway, and the two become fast friends.  Even if Lucien does keep wanting to know how Bianca works.

Sera: they drive each other up the wall but Lucien is somehow still fond of her.  That Tempest stuff is terrifying though.

Cole: weirds Lucien out completely, but he senses the spirit’s heart is in the right place and a spirit who turned human??  Come on, that’s a paper in its own right!  Cole’s fate could go either way, but I suspect Lucien will go for the human option.

Lucien's parents: never had any other kids. They still miss and mourn him. They've been worried sick since the rebellion started and Lucien disappeared. He never wrote because there'd been no contact allowed for over a decade and it never occurred to him. But word of their son surviving the Conclave and joining the Inquisition reaches them and they put all family business in their steward's hands and go to Haven. They get there in time to find the ashes, but returning scouts, maybe even the Chargers, can tell them Lucien is not only alive but Inquisitor and take them to Skyhold. Cue tearful reunion, Lyra as quartermaster, Davidicus joining the researchers, either available as a party member if Lucien needs them.

Training specialty: none of the mage ones appeal.  Knight-Enchanter?  “No I don’t want to be up close and personal with the enemy, I want to be far away from the stabby things!”  Rift Mage: “so... the initial innovators of this field are all dead due to the magic destroying them, and the second wave of experts are all off their trolley due to magical weirdness and seeing their friends disintegrated.  Er... think I’ll give this one a miss, thank you very much.”  Necromancer:  “NO!”

In the end, he ends up studying Artificer after persuading his advisors that just because he's a mage doesn’t mean he should only study magic.  “There’s so much else to study and learn!  It can’t just be learning about magical energies and the Fade!  There’s a rest of the world to see and study!  Why should being able to do one thing make me incapable of doing anything else?”  Cue magically enhanced traps, grenades and possibly some sort of Dwemer laser-enhanced crossbow thing replacing his staff.

Trespasser Lucien is a bit more cynical and battle-hardened and the constant pain from the Mark is no joke either.  He’s honestly not surprised at Solas’s identity by the time it comes out, not as much as he should be.  Does his best to save the dragon, would like to try and save Solas from himself if possible, but isn’t that committed to the idea.  Disbands the Inquisition entirely, thinking it has served its purpose, and then returns to his parental home.  He’s reinstated as their son and heir and is soon using Trevelyan money to build himself a whole series of prosthetic arms with a variety of attachments.  Just in time for the big society wedding involving the Trevelyan heir and the Montilyet heir whose families saw a couple in love and made the wedding decision for them.  Mostly they end up living in Antiva but Lucien’s parents are regular visitors... as are the rest of their former Inquisition colleagues.

[viviae]

can you like. tell me a little about dragon age. seeing your posts about it has got me interested in playing but i have little to no clue what it actually is

Boy can I explain nonny <3 This is a bit long so strap in and im sorry

Dragon Age is (currently) a three game series composed of Dragon Age: Origins (PS3, Xbox 360/Xbox One, PC), Dragon Age: II (PS3, Xbox 360/Xbox One, PC), and Dragon Age: Inquisition (PS4, Xbox One, PC) and its really unique because of its selling point that your actions impact the games as you progress. Like if you kill one character in one game they’ll stay dead through the rest of the series which makes you feel lived in the story and that your actions matter. Dragon Age is also an RPG so a roleplaying game kind of along the same lines of DnD where you get to make and play your own character. And yes there are romances and you can be gay.

The First Game of the series is Dragon Age: Origins where you choose from a selection of six unique (technically seven) origins or backgrounds for your character. You can be anywhere from a human noble or a Dalish elf, the unique elven culture in Dragon Age of nomadic clans dedicating to reclaiming their past. But eventually, from the events in your origin, you wind up a member of a secretive and elite order known as the Grey Wardens whose duty is to protect the world from the Blight.

The Blight is this spread of a horrible disease known as the Taint but is characterized by the presence of Darkspawn, a kind of zombie like creature who exists only to destroy the world. Grey Wardens take the heavy duty of protecting the world from the Blight, which have nearly wiped all of humanity multiple times, at all costs. And currently the country of Ferelden is under going a blight and due to events you wind up the only Grey Warden with your companion Alistair to save the world and reunite Ferelden which had fallen under a civil war.

Along Origins you meet many interesting characters. Alistair is your friendly co-warden who has a mysterious parentage that he hides under his happy go lucky attitude. In contrast to Alistair is the witch Morrigan who is your favorite goth swamp queen who would insult you and you thank her. In addition you meet your chaotic bi rogues Zevran and Leliana. Leliana is a nun who is on the run and hiding from a dark past and she is suspiciously good at murder. And Zevran is not at all hiding his aptitude for murder as an Assassin for hire who tried and failed to kill you but who can ignore that charming bastard?

Dragon Age II follows a much smaller story of a Ferelden refuge who had escaped from the Blight to the city of Kirkwall named Hawke. Unlike in origins where you get to pick your background 2 limits you to Hawke but fear not, Hawke is a loveable bastard and you can still customize them. Throughout DA2 you get to experience all the delights Kirkwall has to offer: Demons, crime, corrupt cops, and fighting your way to survive in this city and make a name for yourself.

Where Origins sets the stage for the world DA2 you are the actor in that play - literally the game is divided into 3 acts that take place over a span of 7 years. DA2′s main conflict is the argument of Mages vs Templars, as in DA’s lore while there are those who are born with magic they are forced to live in prisons policed by the Templar order and the church. You explore the more political arguments of; are the Templars right in their fears of magic as Kirkwall is filled to the brim with corrupt mages or do Mages deserve the chance to live and prove themselves freely from their prisons.

Your romancable companions in DA2 are all bisexuals as the true theme of DA2 is: be gay do crime. You have the foils of Anders: the runaway mage who fled from the prisons the mages are housed in and is determined to bring mages to freedom, and Fenris: the runaway escaped slave who curses magic for only inflicting pain and suffering in his life and wants his warnings to be heard about the dangers magic bring. In addition you also have Merrill, your cute but terrifying Dalish mage who would probably murder you with a cute smile and then go oops. And of course, my pirate wife Isabela, who lives a life free from commitment and is dedicated to the idea everyone should have a good time no matter the cost. Also while not romancable Hawke’s bff Varric deserves every ounce of praise he gets as never before has the energy of “two idiots sharing a braincell” ever been so well adapted.

Then finally we reach Inquisition. After the events of DA2 it triggers a full on war between the Mages and Templars that is destroying the land and causing severe damage that neither side can handle anymore. Desperate for an end to the conflict the Divine (err... fantasy pope) calls for a meeting on both sides... only for the entire thing to literally explode. Killing everyone present and causing a hole in the sky which now means demons are raining like cats and dogs you are the only one to survive. In Inquisition you can once again return to pick between unique backgrounds like in Origins but you don’t get to play through those backgrounds sadly.

You now possess something on your left hand which gives you the ability to patch up the hole in the sky that is pissing demons and due to being the only survivor everyone is incredibly confused about you. Eventually the Inquisition is formed around you, the character they are calling the Herald of Andraste (Andraste is fantasy Jesus) due to your ability to seal the holes. The mystery unfolds as over the course of the game you learn what caused the explosion, how you are connected, and what exactly the mark on your hand is.

DAI has the largest numbers of romance options so I’m gonna give a quick bullet point list for them all

Iron Bull (Pansexual, All Races): A Qunari (think Tiefling but big and beefy) mercenary who is far more clever than he lets on, as well as being the rope top dom of your dreams. Literally! Bull’s romance is a really healthy bdsm relationship if you are interested its very well done

Josephine (Bisexual, All Races): Your loveable ambassador and advisor for the inquisition. She is a workaholic noble who is a tried and true classic romance. Sweep her off her feet and duel for her hand all while navigating the nobility

Dorian (Gay, All Races): The flamboyant pariah rock star mage, he demands attention whenever he walks into the room. Although he wants to be all talk and no emotions make no mistake he is making puppy eyes at you the entire time and gets deeply offended if you say he is. Also not going to lie Dorian is the best piece of gay male rep in gaming history.

Cassandra (Male-only, all Races): Your stern warrior wife who is all serious no funny business... expect she is a bleeding heart romantic who reads horrible smut for fun. You wish to COURT HER?? I mean... if you want 👉👈 she won’t say no...

Blackwall (Female-only, All Races): Your weird dilf who wants desperately to prove himself every step of the way and help people. He is a constable for the Grey Wardens, but all the details on him seem murky... Ah well I’m sure its nothing, the Grey Wardens are a secretive order after all.

Sera (Lesbian, All Races): My wild child, monster chugging, beer guzzling, arrow shooting lesbian. Sera is here for a fun time and not a serious one, she’ll always make sure to keep you humble and ensure you aren’t getting to big for your breeches. 

Cullen (Female-Only, Human and Elf only): Cullen’s the Inquisition’s commander who oohh boy is steeped in a lot of trauma. Cullen’s actually a character you get to know through out the series and see just all the horrible nonsense he’s been through. But he is your tragic self loathing... he isn’t princely but he is your adorkable charming

Solas (Female-Only, Elf Only): The humble apostate who joins the Inquisition out of curiosity of the breech, he is an expert on what the hell is going on with that hole in the sky. However, he holds a wisdom that goes far deeper than your typical apostate. Smooth talking and refined he carries a heavy cloud over him.

I left out a lot and all the nonsense with books and what have you but this is the easiest overview of the series I can offer. It’s main selling points is the deep story and characters throughout the games. And of course who doesn’t love the ability to make and roleplay your own character as a bonus? The games are bit of a flawed gem and Origins in my ugly child but they are truly a delight if you are interested

[reconditarmonia]

Dear Fandom 5K Author

Hi! Thank you for writing for me! I’m reconditarmonia here and on AO3. I have anon messaging off, but mods can contact me with any questions.

Dragon Age | Fullmetal Alchemist | The Locked Tomb | Motherland: Fort Salem | Where the Sky is Silver and the Earth is Brass

General likes:

– Relationships that aren’t built on romance or attraction. They can be romantic or sexual as well, but my favorite ships are all ones where it would still be interesting or compelling if the romantic component never materialized.

– Loyalty kink! Trust, affectionate or loving use of titles, gestures of loyalty, replacing one’s situational or ethical judgment with someone else’s, risking oneself (physically or otherwise) for someone else, not doing so on their orders. Can be commander-subordinate or comrades-in-arms.

– Heists, or other stories where there’s a lot of planning and then we see how the plan goes.

– Femslash, complicated or intense relationships between women, and female-centric gen. Women doing “male” stuff (possibly while crossdressing).

– Stories whose emotional climax or resolution isn’t the sex scene, if there is one.

– Uniforms/costumes/clothing.

– Stories, history, and performance. What gets told and how, what doesn’t get told or written down, behavior in a society where everyone’s consuming media and aware of its tropes, how people create their personas and script their own lines.

General DNW: rape/dubcon, torture, other creative gore; unrequested AUs, including “same setting, different rules” AUs such as soulmates/soulbonds; PWP; food sex; embarrassment; focus on pregnancy; Christmas/Christian themes; infidelity; unrequested polyamory; focus on unrequested canon or non-canon ships; unrequested trans versions of characters.

Smut Likes: clothing, uniforms, sexual tension, breasts, manual sex, cunnilingus, grinding, informal d/s elements, intensity.

—

Fandom: Dragon Age

Character(s):

Group: Cassandra Pentaghast/Female Lavellan

Female Lavellan

Group: Charter & Rector

Genre(s):

Canon-Style Plot - Freeform

Action/Adventure

Worldbuilding

Established Relationship

Mystery/Procedural

I'm playing this game for the first time and loving Cassandra and Lavellan together so much. (I'm playing with a mod where I can romance her with a female PC!) Lavellan starts off as this confused and small and non-Andrastian prisoner who disagrees with Cassandra on so many things, but Cassandra puts so much trust and faith in her and so much on the line for her - even with Lavellans who are adamant that they're not chosen, they're just doing their best and they happen to be the ones in the position to make this choice. Cassandra is so proud to know her, and backs her up even when she disagrees with Lavellan's choices! The romance scene is really cute between two characters who are adults and have a day-to-day working relationship that isn't going to change, but are still just having fun with how charming it is in a way that builds on their friendship. Not to mention their battling together, of course - the ways they can protect each other and fight for each other's goals (and give Cassandra all the elven swords and shields), how worried they sound if the other one gets hurt...whoops, I found myself another loyalty kink ship.

I also just like playing as Lavellan generally, with how much of an outsider she feels (the "Dawn Will Come" scene is so alienating! it really works!) and how much of the game is about visiting the sites of past elven trauma and/or glory days.

My Lavellan uses the (default lol) name of Ellana, is a rift mage, sports a lovely buzzcut and vallaslin, has a lot of feelings about elf history (and visiting the Plains/Graves especially), believes in elven gods and doesn't care to pretend she's Andrastian, and besides Cass is closest friends with Solas, but don't feel that you have to write my specific PC - I'm excited to read about yours too!

But! I also love all the little hints about the work that Leliana's agents are doing, and their friendship (walking in on their card game at Caer Bronach is kind of delightful), and the letter from Rector's mother asking why he uses a code name for work (why are you ashamed of your name, Wilbur??) is one of my favorite in-universe documents. Slice-of-life or slice-of-mission with Charter and Rector would also make me really happy. Here again, just the closeness and trust and faith that these people have in one another is my jam.

Fandom-Specific DNW: Canon-typical levels of Cassandra's association with the Chantry and belief in the Maker/Andraste/the Herald shouldn't be taken to contravene my DNW of Christian themes, but I wouldn't want Satinalia fic or something focused on the Andrastian faith. Please don't put F!Lavellan in a different romance, even if we didn't match on the Cassandra ship.

—

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist

Character(s):

Group: Olivier Mira Armstrong/Maria Ross

Genre(s):

Action/Adventure

Canon-Style Plot - Freeform

Getting Together

I'll admit: I am a shallow, shallow person who loves the heartwarming and id-satisfying Briggs loyalty-kink complex (The watch! Buccaneer handing Olivier a clean pair of gloves after she kills Raven! Constant and deeply sincere saluting! Olivier’s explanation of why she wants Miles around and her lack of patience for anyone’s shit) but would like an f/f manifestation of it for actual shipping. Post-canon or AU where Maria is assigned to Briggs, or works for Olivier in Central? Does Maria foil a plot against Olivier, or Olivier save Maria's life in battle? Does Olivier order Maria into a firefight? Hit me.

Fandom-Specific DNW: Olivier/men, even mentioned.

—

Fandom: The Locked Tomb

Character(s):

Matthias Nonius

Genre(s):

Action/Adventure

Canon-Style Plot - Freeform

Fantasy

Nonius was one of my favorite new characters in Harrow the Ninth. His whole impossible arrival via evocation-by-poetry, battle with the Sleeper, and epic departure to fight the Beast made me very, very happy on levels I have trouble explaining. It was so heartwarming?! Because it was impossible, and because poetry won, and because they went off to do the best they could...I don't know, exactly. (Iiiii also just love that he's named for the Redwall mouse.) I'd love to read more about his life - being unprepossessing and very human but also paladin-like and really fucking good at being a swordsman, representing the Ninth House in slightly less decrepit times, his mysterious past with Gideon the First (and Pyrrha, sort of), however it happened that he died far from home in an unknown place and couldn't be recovered for burial, "chickenshits don't get beer"? Or, er, his afterlife - going to fight with Marta, Ortus, and Pro, re-encountering G1deon as allies...

—

Fandom: Motherland: Fort Salem

Character(s):

Group: Abigail Bellweather/Raelle Collar

Original Historical Witch Character(s)

Group: Sarah Alder & First Bellweather Ancestor

Genre(s):

Action/Adventure

Canon-Style Plot - Freeform

Mystery/Procedural

Worldbuilding

I fell hard for this show and Abigail/Raelle is the ship I’m most excited about - they get off to a bad start for all kinds of personal history reasons and have problems with each other, but when it gets down to the wire Abigail would do anything for Raelle and is very gung-ho about having Raelle’s unconventional but extremely powerful magic under her leadership, regardless of Raelle being a loose cannon. She told her she loved her!! <3 And by the end, Raelle also clearly knows what Abigail's going through (like when she talks her down in "Citydrop"), respects her leadership, and cares deeply about her and wants to protect her in return. I love that loyalty dynamic, and their competence as fighters/witches.

Physical combat, strength in general, magical strength, ability to work magic together, knowledge of the magical canon vs. out-of-the-box techniques...what parts of their skills and their bond could be challenged in the weird dimension that the end of season 1 leaves them in? Or when they get back home and new challenges await? (In my head, the decision not to send them to War College is not revoked; the unit becomes some kind of special-forces secret strike team rather than cannon fodder.) Maybe something where Raelle goes/has gone into a fight as a berserker-type for Abigail and then comes back to her, or where Abigail protects/has protected her soldier (her girl!! I love her protectiveness of Raelle towards the other cadets, imagine it in a battle!)? Or an arranged marriage AU where it's usual for witch soldiers to marry to combine their magic power or something...If including smut in the story, I'd especially be up for something d/s-y where the loyalty-kinky dynamic of Raelle being Abigail's weapon, at her command, is echoed in sex!

OR. The alternate history that the show has created is so interesting and I'm craving expansion of that through fic! Tell me about the Bellweather ancestor who was a slave and ended up powerful and influential enough to begin a dynasty, and how she met and was recruited by Alder. Or other enslaved witches, witches in the American Revolution or the Civil War, or the founding of Fort Salem and standardization of American military magic with its various influences, or Chinese or Jewish or Mexican immigrant witches who maybe came from different magic traditions and might have had to make the choice of whether or not to reveal that they had magic (if the system knows you because of your descent in the country?), serving their country but also binding their daughters and granddaughters forever.

Fandom-Specific DNW: Abigail/Adil (at all; if he's mentioned, please make them just friends), focus on Raelle/Scylla (dwelling on Raelle still having feelings for Scylla or on her getting over Scylla for Abigail; you don't need to retcon their having been together), Scylla bashing.

—

Fandom: Where the Sky is Silver and the Earth is Brass

Character(s):

Chaye Roznatovsky

Demon

Genre(s):

Fantasy

Canon-Style Plot - Freeform

Worldbuilding

Anything expanding on this story would make me really happy. Chaye’s years with the partisans, the comrades-in-arms she had and loved then and who else’s memory she holds or makes into a weapon, her journey to America, going by the surname of “no one.” The demon’s mirror world, its loss of that world (what exactly happened on the other side?) and its need to be where Jews are, demon Judaism? Or the future of both of them now that they’ve found each other!

Fandom-Specific DNW/Opt-In: DNW Chaye/demon. The premise of the story being what it is, I'm explicitly okay with antisemitism being a prominent feature of the story if you write something that covers either or both characters' backstory, but would prefer post-war antisemitism not to be a focus.

[lord-woolsley]

Stumbling Steps

Fandom: Dragon Age Inquisition (Dorian Pavus/Cullen Rutherford) Chapters: 1/1 (3105 words) Rating: Teen And Up Summary: Surrounded by at least 12 nobles Cullen had felt quite uncomfortable since they had arrived at the Winter Palace but with the evening progressing and the alcohol flowing his “suitors“ had become bolder. Cullen is in distress, Dorian saves the day. Rant: If you like it, please leave some love on ao3. ♡ Ao3: Link

Stumbling Steps

“Smile, Commander, you’re so handsome when you smile.“ “He’s just as handsome when he doesn’t.“

Cullen asked himself if the Maker intended to punish him for something. Maybe for leaving the Order, standing against the Chantry‘s will by supporting the Inquisition or more likely for the disaster that had happened in Kirkwall. That must have been it. The Maker probably blamed him for not seeing through Meredith’s grand scheme earlier or maybe he had done something wrong during his time at the Circle Tower in Ferelden and couldn’t remember anymore. Most of it was a blur anyway.

He had been the Templar recruit who had fled from the Hero of Ferelden after all because she – he still blushed thinking about it - had flirted with him. This here is what happens to guys that run away instead of facing their problems, he thought to himself.

He sometimes should have shown more initiative, he was aware of that. Blindly following orders had been his weakness in the past, one he was happy he had overcome.

Cullen didn’t know for which of these shortcomings he was punished here exactly but he had obviously done something very very wrong to deserve this.

Surrounded by at least 12 nobles he had felt quite uncomfortable since they had arrived at the Winter Palace but with the evening progressing and the alcohol flowing his “suitors“ had become bolder. Cullen was pretty sure someone had squeezed his butt just now.

“Did you grab...my bottom?“, he asked, his face flushed red but his voice angry. “I couldn’t help myself.“, the lady exclaimed, she sounded like she thought she was entitled to do to him whatever she desired. Nobles. He wanted to retch.

The woman didn’t seem to notice it or she just didn’t care. Cullen frowned and feared it was the latter because she was already holding out a hand again, trying to touch the scar on his lip. Cullen used his Templar training and dodged. He was being attacked here after all, not with weapons but with something far worse.

“Are you married, Commander?“ “Not yet... but I‘m already taken.“ It was a blatant lie but he had hoped some of them would show at least some respect considering the prospect of him being in a relationship. "Still single, then.“ Or not.

Why would he even think these people cared about someone being taken, had they harassed him the whole evening without any consent from his side, the opposite even. He doubted even a ring on his finger could have stopped or avoided this.

Cullen wanted to escape the Ballroom, run away and leave Halamshiral for good, doing exactly what he had done to the Hero of Ferelden all those years ago. He wanted to be a coward again. Corypheus, the Breach and the assassination attempt on Celene’s life be damned.

“You must dance with me, Commander, you cannot stand about all evening.“ “I‘m afraid not, thank you.“

This was definitely the woman who had grabbed his butt a few second ago. He would rather dance with an archdemon in Haven’s ruins with Solas watching and commenting on his bad posture instead of staying here for one minute longer. But he had to be polite and couldn’t risk to snap, Josephine‘s disappointment would be unbearable if he endangered their plan just because some nobles couldn’t keep it in their pants. Their cause was greater than this and he was the Commander of the Inquisition after all, he wouldn’t bow to some royals behaving abysmal.

The worst disappointment of the evening so far had been that the Inquisitor had witnessed some of the harassing and didn’t do or say anything about it. She had seen mostly the flirting, Cullen supposed. He was pretty sure Herah would have stepped in if she had witnessed someone touching him without his consent. But she hadn’t seen the extent of their actions and probably thought he was the victim of some annoying courting and bickering. No harm in that.

She had given him an apologetic look - pitiful even - and suggested he should talk to Josephine about it or Leliana if he wanted one of them assassinated. Leliana‘s methods were unconventional at least but the thought of an arrow through that horrible woman’s face was lightening his mood. Or maybe Josie could spread a handful of filthy rumors and destroy some reputations.

If he only knew where Lady Montilyet or Leliana were lingering tonight or if these suitors would let him go to search for one of them.

They had zeroed in on him and he couldn’t find the smallest gap to slip through, he was literally glued to the spot. He was being held captive by - it was embarrassing - a flock of noble ladies and their petticoats and even some gentlemen who were at least a bit more discreet, probably because they didn’t want to ruin their reputations.

He was their prey, a piece of meat, and they were hungry wolves that hadn‘t been fed for months, so it seemed.

Cullen was gazing at Herah who would soon leave him here to die - he wished for the sweet release of death at this point - Sera now seemingly glued to her side, chuckling and grinning like an idiot. Nothing unusual about that.

Inquisitor Adaar was red-faced and he was pretty sure Sera had just said something really dirty to her. About an empty broom closet and peaches and breeches. It even rhymed awfully. That must have been Seras attempt at seduction if he wasn’t mistaken completely. Not that he, by any means, was better at creating romantic phrases or paying compliments if they weren’t about the weather. She was definitely more forward than he would ever be.

His thoughts must have jinxed it because in that exact moment Sera started to make loud smooching noises. Cullen wasn’t sure if she intended to mock him or if she wanted to encourage Inquisitor Adaar for whatever awaited her in that broom closet.

Both women left his side eventually, fleeing from strangers approaching them, mostly nobles that thought it would be advantageous to be seen with the Herald of Andraste. He could understand it to an extent. Herah had it hard enough already, most nobles at Halamshiral didn’t treat a Qunari kindly. She deserved to get away from all this for a while.

Cullen could only guess what Sera and Herah were up to after Sera’s remark. The thought made him blush. At least the Inquisitor was having fun while he was suffering. He would rather have all the side effects of his Lyrium withdrawal all at once instead of being touched by strangers without manners.

He longingly stared after them, seeing Sera’s blonde hair disappear in the crowd. He was on his own now.

Cullen wished he could pay an empty broom closet a visit as well until the event was over. Sweet solitude.

"Commander, that woman you‘re in a relationship with, does she really exist?“, another lady asked and he knew he would start to blush and stutter any second in search for an excuse or an inscrutable lie.

But for the first time this evening he was lucky. When he saw Dorian stumbling to the buffet, alone, unoccupied and an empty wine glass in hand he saw his chance.

“Dorian, sweetheart, I‘m here.“ He waved at the mage and really hoped Dorian was either drunk enough not to notice his weird behavior or quick enough to catch up on the situation Cullen was currently trapped in.

The Tevinter shot him a confused look but came closer nevertheless.

“Here he is, my date, the person I told you about, the man I’m in a relationship with.“, Cullen stuttered, pointing at Dorian who was clearly trying to make sense of the situation.

“Ah, my Commander, I thought I had lost you.“ Thank the Maker Dorian was playing along. He was undoubtedly a smart man.

“Cullen, you can’t be serious?“, one of the ladies screeched in his ear, a painful noise leaving it ringing for multiple seconds. Leliana‘s ravens could learn a lot from this woman‘s high-pitched exclamation.

“Isn’t this the evil Tevinter Magister everyone was gossiping about the whole night? I know he’s with the Inquisition but we were warned about him, everyone said he should be avoided at all costs. He‘s no suitable company for someone as handsome and heroic as you.“

Hearing the word Magister Dorian rolled his eyes but he didn’t comment on it. Cullen could feel him correcting the term to „Altus“ in his head, followed by "Southerners, can’t recognize the difference between a dog and a cat.“

“That is for me to decide.“, Cullen said. "I‘m glad, Commander, otherwise this relationship would be rather one-sided, wouldn’t it be?“ Dorian was offering Cullen his arm to desperately cling to which to his own shame Cullen did.

“Amatus, you promised me a dance. I couldn’t find you until now but I‘m here to take you up on it.“ “Of course, love.“ Cullen was clearing his throat and was trying to shoot Dorian what he thought was an affectionate gaze.

One of the ladies actually had the indecency to grasp after Dorian‘s arm and was trying to shove him away from Cullen.

“I really wouldn’t do this if I were you.“, the mage said, voice sharp. "There‘s a clear lack of blood magic tonight for my taste. You wouldn’t want to witness some, would you? A real taste of a Tevinter party. I could arrange that.“

Cullen was always surprised how eloquent Dorian was and how he always found a way out of the most horrible situations. Using his status as the evil Tevinter mage everyone was making him out to be was risky but it definitely seemed to work in this case.

The woman - and many others of his suitors - looked shocked and were hiding their disapproval with throwing their hands to their faces to cover their eyes. Like this childish gesture could make Dorian vanish and disappear from the spot if they pressed their eyes shut hard enough.

“Scandalous.“, two were whispering to each other. “What a waste. A man like the Commander..., I didn’t know he shared certain quirks with the empress.“ “I wouldn’t let her hear you.“, Dorian said. "Or should I tell her myself?“ "She wouldn’t believe you, you‘re from Tevinter." "You really wanna try me? I can be pretty persuasive.", Dorian asked, his words a warning.

The lady was silent for a moment before she bowed her head, slowly shaking it.

“Of course not, I apologize.“, the woman said, clearly not meaning it. She was faking a smile which distorted her face into an ugly grimace behind her mask.

“As if these quirks are the only problem here, the evil Magister has clearly enchanted him.“, one of the gentleman said.

“With my charms and wits maybe. Or my handsome face.“, Dorian said smugly. “All assets you people are visibly lacking. And now if you would be so kind to excuse us, the Commander owes me a dance.“ “That I do.“ Cullen would grant Dorian all the dances in the world for saving him.

With their arms locked they left the Ballroom in search of a quiet spot for Cullen to recover. They were in luck, one of the balconies was empty and even had some free benches to rest on.

“What just happened?“, Dorian asked. „Apart from the obvious, of course.“ “I apologize for using you as my escape plan, Dorian, I am deeply sorry.“ “No, no, it‘s fine. Their behavior, horrible that. Reminds me of home. I wouldn’t even wish this on my father or the Venatori. Maybe on Corypheus though. He wouldn’t be able to destroy the world. Those ladies would never let him go. They would tear him to pieces with their prying gazes. Oh, Corypheus, you owe me a dance." Dorian was spinning his empty wine glass in his hand while speaking.

"Oh, I didn’t even let you get a new drink.“, Cullen said, trying to apologize. Again. ”That was obviously why you came inside, wasn’t it? And now you left empty-handed." "I wouldn’t exactly call this empty-handed. I‘ve got quite a handful." Dorian gestured to their linked arms, an amused grin spreading on his lips.

"Well, I had enough to drink for the evening anyway. I’m feeling a bit tipsy already.“, Dorian started "But let’s not change the subject over something so unimportant as an empty glass of wine - as good as the Orlesian stuff might be. I‘m just gonna get the whole bottle later." Dorian placed his empty glass on one of the benches.

"So, Commander, do tell. Why me? Wasn’t there someone else the Commander of the Inquisition could have faked an romantic involvement with? I‘m pretty sure the Lady Seeker was around somewhere." "... Nevermind, when I think about it now, she would have probably chopped your head off for the idea alone. I was the safer bet, no head chopping here. Even though: you’re aware this is enough for a scandal? You won’t be able to save yourself from the rumors. The evil Tevinter Magister", Dorian mentioned the wrong title with his typical annoyance "... and a man on top of that. We will be the talk of the evening, not even an assassination attempt can change that. In my experience Orlesians are that close-minded."

Cullen hadn’t thought of that, clearly. He had just wanted to get away from these people as far and as quick as possible, not taking the consequences into consideration. He needed to make this right at some point but this wasn’t the time for it neither could he do something about it while being trapped in the Winter Palace. This was Josephine’s strength, not his.

Cullen felt guilty for making Dorian an even bigger victim of Orlesian gossip even though he himself didn’t care too much about their insults if they only kept their physical distance. But maybe Dorian felt different about this.

“I‘m not ashamed of being seen with you, Dorian.“ Cullen said after a long moment of silence. He actually meant it.

“Oh, Commander, you do surprise me.“, Dorian said, faint smile spreading on his face. “It‘s nice having some company after all. You could think I smell of cabbages with everyone trying to stay as far away from me as possible. I was already at my seventh glass of wine when you saw me heading inside. I needed to keep myself entertained somehow. I was feeling rather lonely and a bit drunk now as well to be fair.“ “I‘m still glad you‘re here, Dorian. Can I make it up to you somehow? As a little thank you for saving me. Maybe even with the dance I promised to you earlier. I have to warn you though I‘m a terrible dancer. But one who keeps his word.“ “Are you sure? Dancing with the evil Magister, in full view of every noble in Orlais. How shocking.“ “They‘ll live.“, Cullen said.

He was surprised by his own confidence regarding the gossip. But that was the point, wasn’t it? It was nothing like idle hearsay after all and it wouldn’t bear any real problem for any of them. Especially not if they would manage to save the empress at the end of night. Orlais would be in debt to the Inquisition and only positive word of their members would spread.

“You say that now. If you can find me ten silk scarves, I‘ve got a dance that will really shock them.“ “I-", Cullen started “don’t know what to say to that. I just hope you‘re a better dancer than I am. In dances that don’t involve silk scarves that is.“

A red color was spreading from his cheeks to his throat while he was trying to get that picture of Dorian doing some erotic Tevinter dance out of his head. Without much success, he had to admit. Who would even say a thing like that? Dorian Pavus obviously.

"Oh, I am indeed.“, Dorian said, he didn’t seem to notice how flustered the Commander was at his words. Which was great, Cullen thought. It left him with the last pieces of his dignity still intact.

"Picture me a boy of 15, being forced by his mother to dance with every suitable lady in the room. You learn some things even if you don’t want to. But you see, it‘s of use now. Mother certainly wouldn’t approve of it now, as you can imagine. But enough talk. Let‘s dance.“

Dorian was bowing and offering his hand to Cullen. Every lady would have been envious of the perfection and grace with which Dorian executed that gesture. If it wouldn’t have been the evil Tevinter asking for a dance of course and some noble gentleman instead.

Cullen was certainly blushing because of Dorian’s performance but he took the mages hand in his own anyway and was instantly pulled into Dorian‘s grip whose fingers were placed on Cullen’s waist immediately.

“Is this okay for you, Commander? If this is too much physical contact after what you‘ve just been through, I understand. We can postpone our little dance or leave it be if that‘s more to your liking.“ “I’m good. You decide, Dorian.“

The mage shook his head and made some “Tsk, tsk.“ noises but started with slow and practiced steps even Cullen could follow.

“Thank Godness one of us has a little initiative.“, Dorian chuckled.

Cullen didn’t know if the nobility was actually watching them from inside the Ballroom but he didn’t lie, he couldn’t care less about it. He owed Dorian that dance and it was most definitely more pleasant than being trapped by harassing strangers, noble or not. He actually quite enjoyed himself after the horror of the last hours. A moment of peace with someone he liked.

“After our beautiful dance I’m actually quite sad you‘re not interested in men at all. A shame, that.“ “Yes, a shame.“, Cullen agreed without even thinking about it.

•

Suddenly one of the bushes next to the railing of the balcony Dorian and Cullen were dancing on started to chuckle and when both men followed the noise with their gazes to uncover its origin, they looked straight into the amused faces of Sera and the Inquisitor. Both women were trying to hide behind its leafs while failing miserably. Sera‘s laughter wasn’t exactly subtle either.

“So much for an empty broom closet.“, Cullen stated. Sera was grinning at him. “No, this is so much better." The Inquisitor nodded. “And here I was thinking our dear Commander would be the knight in shining armor tonight. How wrong I was."

[vulptilla]

I know they don't give numbers, but I wanna ask a lot, so you'll have to count the bulletpoints of each section sorry not sorry. Katla x Thrask - PRE-SHIP: 2, 4 / LOVE: 1, 5 / DOMESTIC: 4, now Katla x Blackwall - PRE-SHIP: 2 / GEN: 3, 8 / LOVE: 3, 4 / DOMESTIC: 4, now Iliana x Josie - PRE-SHIP: 2, 4 / GEN: 2, 3 / LOVE: 1, 3, 4, 9 (I hope this format helps make things neater, but klgkljdfg it's hard with ask boxes)

Aw yes, thank you! 💜 Loved replying all these, even though it took basically forever.

Katla x Thrask

What was their first impression of each other?

At first, Katla was just as suspicious about Thrask as she would have been about any templar snooping around near where Merrill lived, asking questions about mages. She was mildly surprised when it turned out that Thrask was, in fact, trying to help Feynriel and actually sympathizing with the lad, but that was pretty much it. She agreed to help him, alright, but only because she, too, sympathized with Feynriel.

Thrask, on the other hand, used to frequent the Hanged Man, so it was nearly impossible for him to avoid overhearing Varric’s stories about Katla being busy helping people in need all around Kirkwall. In fact, he had heard about her long before they actually met each other, and it was only then that he figured out that she was a mage. He hadn’t expected it, but it didn’t bother him, either. In his opinion, Kirkwall could always have used more kind and benevolent people, mages or not mages.

If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think?

I have no doubt Katla would have laughed her ass off at such a ridiculous claim. Even after the two became casual acquaintances of sorts, she couldn’t ever have imagined falling for a templar, of all people, no matter how different he was from his peers or how pleasant company he might have been. She had never really thought about it, not even entertained the idea, until it happened.

Thrask had never thought about it, either, and if somebody had told him that would be the case, it would probably have made him uncomfortable. He would have brushed it off as total nonsense. Not because they were practically on the opposite sides of a brewing conflict, but because she was so much younger than him and, in his opinion, completely out of his league in all imaginable ways.

Who said “I love you” first?

Katla.

Who’s better at comforting the other?

Thrask.

Do they have any pets?

Well, not exactly, but after Katla’s Mabari hound finally accepted Thrask, they got along incredibly well. (I seriously need to pick a proper name for the doggo. I doubt “Katla’s Mabari” is something I want to stick with, lmao. Pet names are tricky.)

...I think I’m going to put the rest under a cut to not clutter everyone’s dashes with my nonsense.

Katla x Blackwall

What was their first impression of each other?

At first, Katla didn’t pay much attention to Blackwall, nor did Blackwall to her, though he noticed that unlike most of the mages he had fought alongside with over the years, Katla seemed to prefer fighting in the front lines. He could respect that.

What was their first kiss like?

Uncharacteristically chaste. The next dozen that followed were less so.

Who gets jealous easier?

Neither, I think. Blackwall isn’t the type. Katla used to have the tendency, but she had mostly overcome her insecurity issues at the point they engaged in a relationship. She’s too old for that shit.

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

They both prefer privacy, but after Blackwall’s true identity had been revealed and most of their companions either shunned or openly despised him for it, Katla would occasionally show her support (and let the others know where she stands) by taking his hand or kissing him in public. He keeps reminding her that she doesn’t have to, and she keeps reminding him that she knows she doesn’t.

What are their favorite things to do together?

They are the kind of couple that enjoys not doing anything in particular. It’s been a rough couple of years decades for them both. They really enjoy their precious moments of peace together. 

Do they have any pets?

Katla wanted to spare her old Mabari from the hardship of the journey to Skyhold, so she left him in Aveline’s care. But! After Corypheus was defeated, they retired from active service and moved to Ferelden, where they lived a simple, peaceful life. WITH CHICKENS. (Artwork by the lovely and talented @livia-arida! 💜)

Iliana x Josephine

What was their first impression of each other?

To put it mildly, Iliana was a huge fucking mess when she first met Josie. She had lived an uneventful, secluded life as a Tranquil in the Ostwick Circle of Magi, and now, she was suddenly not just cured of her Tranquility, which is known to leave people in a vulnerable state, but also both accused of the murder of the Divine and hailed as the supposed Herald of Andraste. Everyone either feared or shunned her or impatiently waited for her to make herself useful by closing the rifts, and at first, literally the only one who showed her kindness and patience was Josie. Iliana was eternally grateful for that.

Josephine, on the other hand, felt sympathy (and pity) for Iliana. She could only imagine what it was like, to be dragged along into such a mess.  

Who felt romantic feelings first?

Iliana.

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

They did! During a mission to Val Royeaux, they took an evening off to have a nice dinner in one of those fancy restaurants. It was all very proper, much courtly. Iliana had to do some serious research for it, and she maybe screwed up with the etiquette just a little bit, but it all turned out to be utterly perfect in the end.

What was their first kiss like?

After successfully thwarting a political disaster together, Iliana was overjoyed. She told Josie that she was so relieved that she could have kissed her. Josie told her, coyly, that she wouldn’t mind if Iliana did just that... and that she might even have hoped for it. 

Who said “I love you” first?

Iliana.

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

Quite often, in fact.

What are their favorite things to do together?

Walking the battlements at sunrise, braiding each other’s hair, and sailing. Iliana was terrified by the sea at first, but she quickly overcame her fear.

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

I think they might prefer using names, save for the occasional ‘sweetheart’ every now and then.

[enby-hawke]

Interview with Lucky Hawke

Tagging @factorykat and @munchyarbeyach for showing me and encouraging me to do this interview. It was a lot of fun. I’m going to go ahead and tag 

@leafo-supreme @gloomba331 @mahalzevran @alexiealducsdrawings @angryirene @glittering-peaches @ghostmage @dankou @zeesqueere @apostates-anonymous @pippii-punkstockings and I don’t know who else wants to do it. No pressure of course. 

NAME ➔ “Lucky,” he winks. “Surely, that’s not the name your parents gave you,” the interviewer says. Lucky frowns. “Rude? Do you go around insulting all your guests?” The interviewer chuckles. “Just was wondering...considering you’re-” “Alright, you do know how many times I’ve been arrested for punching people?” “Point taken.”

ARE YOU SINGLE ➔ He smiles brightly. “Happily married, twice over. And we all share a girlfriend.” The interviewer frowns. “That’s not possibly legal.” “And?” Hawke shrugs. “Andraste had two lovers, the Maker, and her husband. It’s not so weird.”

ARE YOU HAPPY ➔ Lucky sighs deeply and leans back. “Yeah, you know I think I am. Took a while to get there, but this life is all I have.” “You don’t believe in an afterlife?” the interviewer asks. Hawke smiles bitterly. “I didn’t say that.”

ARE YOU ANGRY ➔ Hawke shrugs, running his fingers through his curls. “I mean I guess you’ve seen the videos, but,” Hawke looks right into the interviewer's eyes. “Anger tells me what matters to me. I listen to it.” He smiles, though it’s a little strained. “It’s not always the enemy.”

ARE YOUR PARENTS STILL MARRIED ➔ “Yeah, I’m sure they’re having a grand old time gossiping about us kids,” Lucky laughs brightly. “Mom and Dad would have never guessed what we’d get into. I’m sure Mother’s chatting the Maker’s ear off.”

The interviewer’s bright smile falls. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know they passed.”

Hawke shrugs. “It’s just how it is.” NINE FACTS

BIRTHPLACE ➔ “Amaranthine, at the Squeez,” Lucky chuckles. The interviewer almost spits out his water. “The brothel?” Lucky laughs at the interviewer's face. “I’m not shitting you. It’s kind of a long story. Funny though.”

HAIR COLOR ➔ Dark brown

EYE COLOR ➔ Lucky chuckles. “Everyone always notices the eyes. Yeah, my left one’s brown and my right one’s blue.” The interviewer leans in. “They are rather unusual.” Lucky winks at the interviewer. “Makes me special.”

BIRTHDAY ➔ 7th of Drakonis, 9:08 Dragon

MOOD ➔ “Chipper,” Hawke grins.

GENDER ➔ “Well let’s see now,” Lucky takes out a coin and flips it. “Heads. Guess I’m a girl today.” “Ok maybe that was a weird question, but please answer seriously.” Hawke blinks putting his hands to his chest in mock shock. “I don’t understand. You don’t think I’m a pretty girl?”

SUMMER OR WINTER ➔ “Summer. Wait, winter. Wait….” Lucky scratches his head thinking deeply. “This is not supposed to be a serious question. Just whatever feels right.” “Summer’s for beaches and swimsuits but winter’s for cuddling by the fire and cute sweaters.” Lucky continues to seriously weigh his options as the interviewer tries to move on.

MORNING OR AFTERNOON ➔ “Ah, man, the morning’s only good if you’re already awake. So probably afternoon.” EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

ARE YOU IN LOVE ➔ “Would be weird if I was married and not in-love,” Lucky chuckles.

DO YOU BELIEVE IN LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT ➔ “My parents did and I thought it was bullshit until I saw a guy rip out a slaver’s still-beating heart and stuff it into his mouth.” The interviewer is seriously disturbed. “That’s….interesting.” Hawke is now daydreaming.

WHO ENDED YOUR LAST RELATIONSHIP ➔ “He did. Then she did. I’m not...,” Hawke’s chuckle is strained and then he clears his throat. “It’s all good now, though. We’re good.” The interviewer wants to press on but something in the way Hawke suddenly glares makes him think better of it.

HAVE YOU EVER BROKEN SOMEONE’S HEART ➔ “Unfortunately I’ve had too much practice with that.”

ARE YOU AFRAID OF COMMITMENTS ➔ Hawke chuckles. “You know it used to be this huge thing, and I hurt a lot of people not knowing what I want.” Hawke looks serious for once. “It’s not bad to take time to figure things out before you jump into something.”

HAVE YOU HUGGED SOMEONE WITHIN THE LAST WEEK? ➔ “Did Varric not drive me here?”

HAVE YOU EVER HAD A SECRET ADMIRER ➔ “No, when I was young, things were very different,” Hawke looks uncomfortable but quickly smiles. “Now, I just have admirers so if there are any secret ones they remain secret.”

HAVE YOU EVER BROKEN YOUR OWN HEART? ➔ “Too many times to count,” Hawke chuckles. “Good thing is, now, I’m better at fixing it.” SIX CHOICES

LOVE OR LUST ➔ “Love hands down,” Hawke answers without hesitation. “I’m surprised,” the interviewer states. Hawke looks puzzled. “Why?” “I mean...you read the book, then read the articles.” Lucky laughs. “Ok, maybe I liberally love. I’m much tamer these days, I swear.” Lucky then gives an easier grin. “Unless you don’t want me to be.” The interviewer blushes and says they should move on.

LEMONADE OR ICED TEA ➔ “This is biphobia. Stop making me choose,” Hawke teases. The interviewer politely laughs. “It’s only a question.” “Fine, I’ll mix them. Final answer.”

CATS OR DOGS ➔ Hawke chuckles. “Well, cats don’t like me much so I guess dogs.”

A FEW BEST FRIENDS OR MANY REGULAR FRIENDS ➔ “I think there are only a few people nowadays I call a friend. I used to have a lot of “friends” but,” Hawke laughs. “I’ve learned it’s better to focus on what’s already good and more good will come.”

WILD NIGHT OUT OR ROMANTIC NIGHT IN ➔ Hawke frowns again. “Biiiiiphobia.” “You really don’t have preferences?” “My preference is a good time.”

DAY OR NIGHT ➔ Hawke sighs, leaning back. “Night? I guess? Things just seem easier when the day is gone.” FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

BEEN CAUGHT SNEAKING OUT ➔ “All the time. I got better at it when I was older.”

FALLEN DOWN/UP THE STAIRS ➔ Hawke laughs. “That’s random. But uh, yeah. Both” “That actually doesn’t surprise me.”

WANTED SOMETHING/SOMEONE SO BADLY IT HURT? Hawke smiles but there’s something different about this smile. Something much more bitter. “Yeah,” he simply replies. “Care to elaborate?” the interviewer raises an eyebrow. Lucky takes a sip of water. “No.”

WANTED TO DISAPPEAR ➔ “Wow is this therapy now?” The interviewer is surprised by the quick reaction. “We can move on,” the interviewer clears his throat. “Yes,” Hawke’s eyes bore in a warning. “Let’s.” FOUR PREFERENCES

SMILE OR EYES ➔ “Wow back to the preferences?” Lucky chuckles but it’s lighter and more good-natured. The interviewer joins in. “How about what you like about each instead. We might get through these questions faster.”

Hawke puts his fingers to his lips thinking. “I love to make people laugh. A smile lets me know people are comfortable. I don’t...always know how to...but I can stare for hours at my wife’s eyes, at my husband’s eyes, at my girlfriend’s eyes. Paired with a smile meant for me,” Hawke half-smiles. “There’s nothing better.”

SHORTER OR TALLER ➔ “Well lots of people are taller than me, so it’s nice when I’m the tall one for once.”

INTELLIGENCE OR ATTRACTION ➔ “You know I’ve met a lot of intelligent assholes and attractive assholes. I usually just want someone nice.”

HOOK-UP OR RELATIONSHIP ➔ “I did the hook-up thing for a long time, and still every now and then, but there’s something to be said to have someone you know will stay by your side.” “Wait aren’t you married? You still hook-up?” “What my girlfriend and I compare hook-ups. And we’re all safe about it.” The interviewer stares blankly. Hawke shrugs. “It’s not that weird.”

FAMILY

DO YOU AND YOUR FAMILY GET ALONG ➔ Hawke laughs. “We’re a family. Caring deeply means emotions run deeply. We have our fights but we’ve learned better ways to talk to each other as we got older.”

WOULD YOU SAY YOU HAVE A “MESSED UP LIFE” ➔ Hawke sucks air through his teeth. “Messed up enough that my best friend is making royalties off of it.”

HAVE YOU EVER RAN AWAY FROM HOME ➔ “A few times,” Hawke nods. “Actually running away was how I found Boof.” “Wait, Boof?” “My mabari mutt,” Lucky takes out his phone to shows a selfie of him and a feathery golden mabari. “He’s a cutie, ain’t he?” “Why Boof?” Hawke looks puzzled again. “He named himself.” It’s the interviewers turn to get puzzled.

HAVE YOU EVER GOTTEN KICKED OUT ➔ “Not when I was younger. My dad was...protective.” FRIENDS

DO YOU SECRETLY HATE ONE OF YOUR FRIENDS ➔ “No, if I hate you, you’ll know it.”

DO YOU CONSIDER ALL OF YOUR FRIENDS GOOD FRIENDS ➔ “I don’t call you a friend if you’re not my friend.”

WHO IS YOUR BEST FRIEND ➔ Hawke glares again. “Biiiiiipho-” “Ok, we’ll just move on.”

WHO KNOWS EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU ➔ Hawke looks up thinking. He then takes out his fingers and starts counting. “Well let’s see there’s Merrill, Fenris, Isabela, obviously Varric, Anders, Aveline, my brother, and si-...sitter.” “Sitter?” Hawke chuckles nervously. “Yeah, my girl’s sitter. I always end up talking her ear off.”

[kunstpause-archive]

Three OTP Questions: Cassia Hawke and Cullen

I got tagged by the absolute best @elveny and the prompt kinda ran away with me and is full of small nods to so many different parts of our story - I’m kinda proud of it. ^^ Fluffy humor incoming.

The prompt:

1. How did they first meet? 2. What did they think of each other at first? 3. Were they immediately interested / attracted or did that come later?

Cassia had been waiting for Adriene to show up for their weekly shared dinner when Varric suddenly stood inside her kitchen, claiming to have serious and non-negotiable business to discuss with both her and Cullen. Not much later found the three of them around their kitchen table, sharing a bottle of wine as Varric started on why he had dropped by.

“When did we first meet?” Cassia asked, sending him a confused look. “You know how I met Cullen. I told you all about it!”

Cullen‘s eyes widened slightly. “You did?”

“Not the details! Just about the accidental meeting in the tavern and, well, that I spent the night,” Cassia hurried up to add, watching his face go from slightly alarmed to relieved.

“Exactly, you only told me some of it, I had to fill in a lot of blanks!” came the protest from Varric. 

“Fill in a lot of blanks for what exactly?” By now, Cassia sounded slightly suspicious.

With a dismissive motion of his hand, Varric shook his head. “Never you worry about that. The fact is I need more information!”

Two pairs of confused-looking eyes narrowed at him. “More information for...?” Cullen asked, his face holding the look of a man who wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted an answer.

“It’s a surprise for now! So, details? Who saw whom first? Was it love at first sight? What was the first thing you thought when seeing each other?” The dwarf had pulled out a notebook and was giving the couple in front of him an encouraging look.

Cassia blinked, trying to sort through the questions one by one. Cullen meanwhile seemed to have a much easier time with this. It looked like he had decided to postpone further questions and play along for now. 

“The first thing that went through my head was ‘Wow, that must be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen’,” he said, looking at Cassia with a warm smile. “Still true by the way.” At the playful wink he sent her, Cassia couldn't help herself from smiling right back. 

“Lovely,” Varric muttered, busy taking notes. “And you, Frosty?”

She wondered briefly if she should come up with something more flowery, but in the end, she only shrugged as she decided to go with the truth. “I think my first thought was something about him being much younger than everyone else in the tavern. Oh and tall.”

Varric looked up from his notes. “So, on the one side, we have incredible beauty, and on the other, well, tall and not old…” He let out a sigh. “How am I supposed to work with this?” he muttered. 

Cullen just chuckled, putting an arm around Cassia as he gave her a fond look. “If you were expecting to get something poetic and overly romantic from Cassia, you might as well give up.” There was no malice behind his words. Over the years they had known each other, Cullen had learned quickly that the woman he loved wasn’t one for exuberant love declarations or overly romantic procedures. Despite being the most eloquent person he knew, Cassia rarely spoke about her innermost feelings, preferring to show her affection, her love in other ways.

“Don’t I know it,” Varric muttered, his eyes not leaving his notes. “You know how long I’ve been trying to get a usable quote from her about your relationship that doesn’t sound incredibly boring?”

Cassia’s eyebrows rose up. “What do you mean? I love Cullen, I’ve said so plenty of times before!”

“As I said - boring,” Varric countered, still without looking up. “Can’t you be a little bit more exuberant? Andraste’s tits, you should see the pages I have of him waxing about your eyes or the sound of your voice or even the way you scrunch your nose when playing the lute…”

When no immediate answer came, Varric finally looked up, only to be greeted by a very confused Cassia looking back and forth between him and a by now slightly embarrassed Cullen.

“What,” Varric snapped. “The man knows how to express his feelings when given the appropriate amount of alcohol.” He shook his head again. “No, this won’t do! I need something more substantial. Something…” Suddenly, he lit up. “Oh, I know! Fenris said something a while ago. Telling me I should ask you about the pond incident? Tell me about that!”

Cassia felt the heat of an embarrassed flush on her face.

“The pond incident?” Cullen chuckled. “I doubt that will help you with whatever you need this for. We barely knew each other and it had nothing to do with us.” 

At his words, Varric’s smile turned into a wide grin. “According to a certain broody elf, it had everything to do with the two of you! But he was very tipsy when he told me, so I am hoping for more juicy details directly from the source!”

“I have no idea what he could have meant,” Cassia, having found some semblance of calm again, said nonchalantly. “It was a simple accident, and I barely even knew Cullen back then. He wasn’t even there!”

“You know Frosty, you are an excellent liar, and I would absolutely believe you if Broody hadn’t spilled the beans already,” Varric said with such confidence that Cassia felt the urge to strangle her best friend at the next opportunity well up in her.

“I’ll have you know that I am going to kill Fenris and that absolutely nothing he has told you is even remotely true!” she huffed as she crossed her arms in front of her, sending Varric a determined look.

Cullen had curiosity written all over his face. “Now I really want to know what this is about.”

“Well,” Varric said with a grin, “you are in luck then, and you are probably going to enjoy this!”

“Varric…” Cassia started but the dwarf simply ignored her, talking to Cullen like she wasn’t even in the room.

“So, there our heroine was, on her way to do a templars bidding after just having found her mystery man from the unforgettable night in the tavern again.”

Cassa groaned at his word, closing her eyes and only barely resisting the urge to hide her face behind her hands as Varric went on.

“A meeting that had shaken her to her core, for it was no less than half an hour later that she found herself so distracted by thoughts of the handsome man that was now no longer a stranger from the tavern to her, that she paid no mind to where she was walking.” 

“Wait,” Cullen interrupted, “you fell into that pond because you were busy thinking about me?” Amusement and disbelief colored his voice and Cassia opened her eyes only to sigh. 

“Well… kind of? I was so excited, and worried of course, but mostly excited and I…” she trailed off, her cheeks flaming red by now.

“She was busy planning on how to get you to kiss her again!” Varric had no qualms about finishing her sentence for her. Nor had he any about embarrassing her further. “That is until she suddenly found herself in a pond surrounded by slightly agitated ducks.”

“Why are you even here?” Cassia groaned at Varric before letting her head fall onto her arms on the table in front of her.

Varric grinned again. “Well, as your best dwarf…”

“There is no such thing!“ Cassia mumbled from underneath her hair.

“As your best dwarf,” Varric said again, a little more forceful this time, “it is my duty to blow everyone out of the water with my wedding toast of course. Pun intended.”

Cullen meanwhile seemed to be unbothered by his fiancée's embarrassment. A wide smile was on his face. “You really walked into that pond because of me?”

“You sound far too happy about that!” Cassia said, still not willing to look at anyone in the room.

“It gets better,” Varric added. “Apparently that pond was really close to her uncle’s house, but instead of going home to change, she rather walked around the city in wet clothes. That’s how distracted she was!”

He sounded so satisfied with himself that Cassia looked up to send him a harsh glare. Unwilling to let his words stand, she sat up straight again. 

“Not true! I was very aware of how close home was, I just wanted to…” She let out a sigh, resigning herself to staying in her embarrassed state as she looked at Cullen again. “I just wanted to get the job done as quickly as possible, so I could see you again.” 

“I was more than happy that you came back the same day.” The look that Cullen gave her was so warm that Cassia smiled again. “But wait,” he added. “You wore different clothes when you came back later.”

Cassia shrugged. “Well, one of the market stalls I passed on my way to the Gallows had a mirror, and I was the spitting image of a half-drowned mabari, and I kind of wanted to make sure you were also happy to see me again, so I ran home to change after all, in the end.”

For a moment, they were just looking at each other, the last hints of her embarrassment fading away under the look of pure love she could see in Cullen’s eyes. 

“Wonderful, so this actually happened just the way Broody said it did? Finally something I can use!” Varric’s voice drew Cassia’s attention away from her husband-to-be. 

“Are you seriously planning on putting that into your speech?” she asked, a weary look on her face.

“Stories need to be told, Frosty. I don’t make the rules!” 

“I’m pretty sure you make up the rules all the time,” Cassia muttered under her breath.

Varric gave her a shit-eating grin before looking at his notes once more. “So, it was pretty much love at first sight, right?”

“No.” The answer came from both Cassia and Cullen at the same time, making Varric to be the one with the slightly confused look on his face for once.

“No? Are you seriously trying to tell me you weren’t head over heels for each other from the very beginning?” 

“On this we’ve always been of one mind,” Cullen said with a smile, and Cassia nodded.

“It was definitely infatuation at first sight, no doubt,” she said softly, “but love…”

At Varric’s still questioning look, Cullen continued, “I don’t think that you can truly love a person without knowing them. Ant we didn’t. Not at that point at least.”

“Not really,” Cassia agreed. “I also think that, for me at least, love is not something that just happens to you, you know? Infatuation does. Lust does. But love is more than that.” Her eyes were set on Cullen’s as she spoke, “It is something you commit to and that you decide on. Something that you make happen.”

“And we did,” Cullen added, his arm around her tightening ever so slightly. “We ‘fell in love’ the moment we decided to do this together, despite the obstacles.”

Cassia felt her heart beat just the tiniest bit faster at his touch, smiling at the thought that something as simple as a casual touch from him still had the same effect on her now as it had back then.

“And we haven’t stopped falling since that day,” she added with a smile.

“Praise Andraste and her dog!” 

Varric’s loud exclamation tore both Cullen and Cassia out of their mutual moment of tenderness.

“I was beginning to think I’d never get enough out of you to do this right, but this? This is definitely something I can work with! The final touch to the chapter… uh, the speech I mean!” 

Before Cassia could say anything, the door opened, and Adriene hurried inside. 

“Sorry I’m late,” her sister apologized, letting herself fall down onto a chair. At the sight of her, Varric closed his notebook with a flourished move. 

“And that is my cue to leave! Curly, Hawkes… have a great evening!” Without further ado, he stood up. 

“Ah, Varric, don’t say you can’t stay for dinner, and after I just got here!” Adriene smiled widely at him, but he only shook his head.

“You know me, books don’t write themselves!” he said with an apologetic smile.

“Books don’t write themselves?” Cassia narrowed her eyes at him.

He only grinned again. “Incidentally, neither do speeches!” And with that, he was out of the door, clearly unwilling to let anyone catch up with him.

“What was that all about?” Adriene asked a moment later, and Cassia only sighed.

“Don’t ask! I am slightly afraid thinking too closely about it.”

Her sister put on a disappointed look. “Och, damn it, I am late one time, and I apparently missed something!”

“Trust me, you didn’t miss much,” Cassia mumbled while getting up to start getting their dinner going. 

“Actually,” Cullen objected, the wide smile on his face giving Cassia pause, “you missed a rather wonderful story about your sister that I believe you would definitely want to know!”

Cassia froze. 

“Cullen,” she pleaded, “Don’t do this to me! Isn’t it enough that you know?”

Adriene had noticeably perked up at these words. “Oh, this sounds good already! Tell me! You’ll be my favourite brother-in-law!”

“I’m the only brother-in-law you have,” Cullen said in a dry tone, and Adriene waved her hand in a dismissive motion. 

“Pah, details! Tell me anyway, you might not remain my only brother-in-law after all, better to get a headstart now!”

A small throw-pillow suddenly flew through the air, hitting Cullen straight in his face. 

“I am warning you!” Cassia’s voice sounded sharp, but there was no real heat behind it.

Adriene just chuckled as she shuffled her chair in between her sister and Cullen. “Don’t be threatened into silence, I will protect you from the flying threats, now go and tell me the story, before Cass finds something more substantial to throw!”

There was a very satisfied look and a rather wide grin on his face. “So, do you remember that time your sister walked into a duck pond?” he started as Cassia slowly reached for another pillow, cursing the day when she had hoped those two would get along.

[freethemages]

I am more than happy to answer questions from the perspective of my OC Tristan Trevelyan!

Here are a collection of questions he has been asked in a wonderful server that I am a part of. It is extensive, so I am placing it under the cut. 

Is there anything you’d like to know from his point of view? Get to know him a little better! 

Here is a link to an introduction post, and you can find more info, and asks pertaining to him under #tristan trevelyan on my blog.

Okay here goes! I hope you enjoy!

Q: How did you and Cullen fall in love?

It was very slow. [chuckles] Cullen wasn’t exactly aware of his... taste for men, at the time. I think the first time either of us realised there might be something, however begrudging, between us, was Satinalia of 9:41 Dragon.

Q: How did you celebrate your first Satinalia together?

Well, we weren’t ‘together’ really, but I think the Satinalia of 9:41 Dragon counts as the first time we celebrated it ‘with’ each other and everyone else in the Inquisition. We got each other gifts, as is customary. He got me some Crystal Grace bulbs. They are my favourite flower, though I don’t think he knew it at the time! I nearly kissed him that night. I was but a terrified baby nug, and so I lost my nerve.

Q: What is your favourite thing about Cullen?

That’s a tough question. I love every part of him. Even the bits others find tough. 

Most of all though, it’s the devotion I see in his eyes, and the passion that burns behind them in everything he does. Especially when his smile reaches his eyes. That didn’t happen a lot when we first met. It took him time to learn how to be a person and not just the Commander of the Inquisition.  When he looks at me with those honey eyes... I swear in those moments I would do, and be anything for him. Anything.

Q: Have you been with any other members of the Inquisition, in a romantic or sexual way?

I... rode the bull, so to speak. Strictly physical, you understand. 

There was also a dalliance with Dorian. We decided we worked best as friends, which was ideal as it was around that time that Cullen and I began to be a little more aware of our feelings for each other.

Q: How would you feel if a secret admirer often left gifts for you?

Truth be told, I have absolutely no idea. It’s a rather strange concept for me to have a secret admirer. 

Though Cullen does leave me little gifts on occasion, and I find that very sweet. 

I’ve had myriad proposals of sex, courtship, and even marriage since taking up the position of Inquisitor. One lady, who I am sure is totally sane, expressed her desire, nay, her need, to bear the child of the Herald of Andraste. I believe the precise words in her letter were “you simply must allow me the greatest honour of accepting your holy seed into my ready loins, the Maker himself wishes it!” It was... flattering, I suppose? Orlesians, right? [nervous chuckle] ahem. Anyway, that’s my experience with admirers, though none were secret so much as just complete strangers. Thankfully these things have become less common now that people know I am not ‘on the market’, and that people have had time to get over the spectacle of Corypheus’ defeat.

Q:  Had you ever been in love before you joined the Inquisition, or at least what you perceived as love? 

No, I had not. As much as a hopeless romantic as I am, I never had the pleasure of a romantic partner before Cullen. That’s not to say I didn’t dally. I dallied a lot, in fact. 

The closest I got to romance was my crush on a templar in the Ostwick Circle, I suppose. You can imagine how well that would have gone, indeed!

Q: How do you feel about paperwork and things relating to it? There's obviously a lot you have to do as the Inquisitor. 

Oh, I absolutely loathe paperwork! Indeed there is much of it to be done. I try to get out of it as much as I can, though as I am sure you suspect, I cannot get out of much at all. Luckily I only have to deal with reports of my own activities and correspondence made directly to me. The bulk is handled by my advisers. 

You wouldn’t believe the sheer size of the piles of papers scattered about my quarters since Cullen moved in. He doesn’t seem to mind too much though, he’s rather swift and organised, though it may look like a mess to me. He assures me there is method in the madness, and he’s given me no reason to disbelieve thus far. [chuckles] I will say though that no work is allowed during our down time (my rule), so it is not so overabundant.

Q: Do you have a secret talent or passion?

It’s not really a secret, though I don’t advertise it all that much either. I am rather skilled at knife throwing. The dummy in Cullen’s office has seen an uptake in attacks since we started having competitions. The winner gets to decide what happens that night, of course. Now I like to think I’m rather skilled in that department too, but you would have to ask the dear Commander. [chuckles] no, I’m joking, please don’t ask him that, maker’s breath!

Q: Are you religious? Do you have any superstitions or rituals that you practice?

I am not religious per se, though I’m rather agnostic on the whole Maker’s existence thing. I certainly don’t subscribe to the beliefs of the Andrastian Chantry. [he scoffs] Mother would have my head for saying that...They twist faith and use it to control the masses.

What I do believe, is that Andraste was an Avvar mage, and that she was possessed by a spirit -perhaps of faith- and that it was this which led her to begin her crusade. 

Make no mistake, the chant of light was written by mere men, and that we treat such words as irreproachable is the true hubris of man. 

I think what lies beyond the fade is a great deal more complicated than any absent father figure. I do not pretend to know what it is, or if anything is there at all, but I do not believe it is the Maker as we have come to revere him. 

I have found peace in relying upon my own intellectual study of magic and the fade. Spirits are real, and must be respected and acknowledged, for they can inflict a great deal of harm, or happiness. I cannot say the same for the Maker, so I feel no loss in the potential of his non-existence. 

I admit, I really must study Elven and Avvar beliefs in much greater depth before making comment on them.

Q: Do you have any disputes with Cullen? And if yes, how do you two handle the situation?

Oh yes, we definitely have disputes! [chuckles] my darling is a... straight forward man when it comes to addressing situations. I prefer a more nuanced method. And being a mage, that usually involves magic. Cullen has come a long way but he is still... a little wary of such casual use of magic. We argue far less about that than we used to, though. 

Truly, if he always had his way, I would be out of the fray and safe in Skyhold at all times. He knows I’m capable and trusts me of course, but I cannot blame him for his protectiveness. Truth be told I feel the same on the occasions he heads out, though I know he is perfectly capable of handling things.

We are both grown men, and are able to move past things rather quickly. I don’t think either of us could tolerate going any period of time staying angry at each other, or maker forbid, not talking. We trust each other implicitly, and so this works for us. Sometimes the more emotionally charged arguments are settled because passion overtakes us. I have to say, Cullen is always a very skilled lover, but those times... are something else entirely.

Q: What is your biggest weakness?

It’s hard to say. Like most people, I am full of flaws. It’s a part of being I suppose. 

I strive to see the good in all people, which has led me to trust the wrong ones. That’s probably a contender. 

Some have said I am too soft, that the complete absence of executions rent from my judgement displays a lack of strength and will to lead. I disagree. Perhaps that is a weakness, but it is not one I will apologise for. 

They may call me the Herald of Andraste, but I am just a man. Anybody could have been in my place. I do not intend to lose myself under such a hefty title, so full of expectations. I can’t. 

Oh, and I’m dreadful with a longsword. Cullen has tried many times to help me improve. [chuckles] I am just not a close combat warrior, like my dear Lion.

Q: Have you ever thought about having kids with Cullen?

I’d love to raise a child with my love one day. Though sadly we do not have the correct equipment to create a life ourselves. 

I intend to do some research on the uses of magic and conception. Perhaps we will yet have children that possess Cullen’s beautiful blond curls. That is the sweetest sight I could ever dream of.

Q: What did the nightmare demon say to you in the fade?

He told me that the weight of Thedas would crush me. That I, an insignificant human, could never hope to carry the anchor and live. 

He also told me that the Commander would always see my magic and sneer. That he could never really love me while I was the very thing he spent most of his life fighting. But our love is strong. Ex-Templar he may be, but he is also a smart, loving, and honest man. I trust him to the black city and beyond. 

The nightmare could have wielded nothing that would have made me falter, for these are all things I have told myself and yet carried on.

Q: How was your first kiss with Cullen?

Our first kiss? It was... interesting. We were having an argument, actually. He is very obstinate. He was having a particularly bad time with his lyrium withdrawals and was on the verge of giving in. I argued that he was strong enough to keep going, he argued that he was not, the silly man. 

Anyway, it got very heated. I was yelling about how much I looked up to him and how much he meant to me and... bam. His face was on my face. Passion unrivalled. He was scarlet in the face afterwards and apologised profusely. I simply pulled him back to me and kissed him again. 

Later on he confided that he had never kissed a man before. He had no idea he even liked men that way. I was only happy to show him just how much one man can love another. That’s also the same day I learned just how soft those blond curls are, when I stroked them as he fell asleep with his head in my lap.

Q: Describe a childhood memory?

Childhood memory? Hmm, let’s see... 

ooh okay, I have one. So I was about thirteen, and my friend Artemis and I were playing dares, because what else are you going to do in a cushy prison? Knowing I had recently been making good progress on my fire spells, he dared me to... ensure that the skirts of a certain prickly templar ‘caught alight’. 

Well I did it. Only the guy’s beard also caught fire. He’d been growing this beard for longer than I had been there, and boy was he furious. 

Artemis was a good friend and took the rap. He had not been there as long as I and they were more likely to believe he did it by mistake.  That templar never stood guard on the apprentice dorms while we were still in them, though! That got a cheer.

Q: Who teases the two of you (with love of course) about your relationship?

Oh maker, absolutely everybody. Even the recruits! They always find it amusing that the Commander has a soft side. Of course, it doesn’t bother me a jot. Cullen has less tolerance for it but he’s usually alright. 

Dorian, Sera, and Bull are some of the main culprits, which I’m sure surprises nobody. Leliana and Josephine are formidable teases in the war room, too. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it. Watching him blush and stammer is always a joy. And I always make sure to... soothe his blood flow when needed, of course. 

I’m certain Varric has written a romantic tale that is only half true, but I would also be willing to bet the Skyhold vault that whatever he writes, the truth is infinitely more fantastic.

Q: What is the best/most ideal way to spend time with Cullen?

I get on at him a lot to get his bloody roof fixed [chuckles] but actually some of my favourite little moments with him are lying in his chamber, looking up at the stars over the Frostbacks, in each other’s arms, with nothing between our souls but our skin. We can just be together, two men deeply in love. Not the Inquisitor and the Commander. 

We spend most nights in my chambers now, but sometimes we still like to ascend those ladders, when the weather is not too cold. I used to miss home terribly, even the damned Ostwick Circle. But now, home is wherever he is.

Q: The anchor threatening your own existence... How does it affect your relationship with Cullen? Do you believe it to be a long lasting one?

Maker, it doesn’t bear thinking about. I... admit I’m guilty of hiding the true extent of my pain from him. He has enough of his own worries and I know this would take a huge toll on him. The anchor grows more painful every day. It’s like an acid coming from my own veins. The pain has thus far reached my shoulders. I fear that I won’t be around for very much longer, and the idea of leaving him is too much to think about; it is not an option. I simply must fight it with all I have. I will not let my own fucking arm take him away from me. Wherever Solas is, I hope he returns with some answers. He... seems to know more about this magic than he let on.

Q: If you would wear a flower crown, which flowers would it be and why?

Crystal grace. Without a doubt. Perhaps with royal elfroot wrapped around the stem parts. 

It’s my favourite flower. I know someone who would also appreciate it... I wonder if I could get him to wear a matching one... hmm. We could even have them made here at Skyhold. An excellent wedding headpiece idea, actually…

[Cullen in the background: Absolutely not.]

... Spoil sport.

Q: How do you feel about blood magic?

I suppose the official answer my advisers would want me to give is that I condemn, abhor, and despise blood magic, blah blah blah. But that is not the case. Blood magic is just magic. Can it be used for ill? Of course! So can any other magic, and any other weapon for that matter. 

Like a great many things in life, within blood magic, consent matters. I am not so quick to condemn an entire school of magic based upon the actions of a terrible few. 

Honestly, the excuses for the prohibition of blood magic are just another case of stuff and nonsense fed to us by the Chantry to keep us under their thumb.

I do not personally use it, but I have no qualms about it beyond the fact that I developed my fighting style to conserve my health. 

Oh Maker, here comes Mother Giselle... I wasn’t here! [He hides behind the tall backed chair he was sitting on]

Q: How do you feel about being at sea?

I am.... less than enthused by the idea of being at sea. The journey over the Waking Sea was not a pleasant one. It was my first time, since I had spent most of my life in the Circle, and my family trips before my magic manifested were mostly in the Marches, and twice, Orlais, which was reachable by land. 

There is always the looming threat of being consumed by the untameable ocean, but mostly I just got really, really sea sick.

Q: Describe yourself in three words?

Hmm... magic, romantic, idealistic. 

What do you think, love?

[Cullen: chuckles I was going to suggest smart, strong, and very sexy... though that is four words. Hmm.]

[Tristan shakes his head with a fond smile, and a gentle laugh]

Q: What was your first impression of Cullen? 

Well, I must admit, when he approached us after I had closed the first breach, I was a little dazed. I couldn’t tell you whether it was from exhaustion or his visage. I did notice he was handsome. And briefly wondered where he got his lip scar. There wasn’t much time to dwell, however. 

When I spoke to him later after settling into Haven, that was when I was able to drink him in as it were. Much like myself, he gets flustered quite easily depending on certain subjects, which I found endearing. I tried very hard to not fall down that hole but... well, you can see I failed. And glad I am of it.

Q: What nickname did Varric give you? 

He calls me Twirly. Apparently I tend to add ‘unnecessary flourishes’ when casting with my staff. I do not know what he means, however. The flourishes are essential to looking good when casting, you see.

Q: how would you react to fanfiction or fan art of yourself? What about smutty fanfics/art?

Oh, there have been such things, believe me. [laughs] I find it entertaining, personally. Bonus points if it makes me blush. 

The Commander, on the other hand, gets very embarrassed about it, even when he is not involved. 

I suppose it comes with being painted as a ‘hero’. It’s interesting to see how far people’s imaginations can go. 

If I come across it, I will read it, be warned, prospective fanfic writers and artists! [he winks]

Q: If you and your LI could spend two weeks anywhere in Thedas on vacation, where would you go?

Hmm. There are a few possibilities. A break in Southreach might be nice, to visit Cullen’s family. Though two weeks with Branson’s child may be less than relaxing, I grant you! [chuckles] There is also Antiva City. I should love to go during the Satinalia season, but again, I doubt there would be much quiet relaxation going on, and my Lion does prefer places with a tad more… serenity. And privacy. I can get behind that, of course. So my final answer would probably be a nice secluded log cabin in the Frostbacks. Granted it is not far from where we are now, but for a lovely break all I would need is my love, a roaring fire, a nice book, and plenty of cozy blankets. Sighs It would be wonderful to just be Tristan again, and not Inquisitor Trevelyan, just for a while.

Q: Do you and Cullen have any pets? 

We don’t as of yet, but I hope we do have some in the near future. The cats that roam Skyhold are lovely, but I would love to have an animal that was just ours. Preferably a Mabari. I may not hail from Ferelden, but I consider it my home now. I like Fereldan culture. 

Q: Did you dance with Cullen at the Winter Palace? If so, how was it?

I did! Maker, the glares we got from all of his admirers. If we had danced in the main hall I dare say there would have been a riot! They all seemed to want my handsome man, and I cannot say I blame them.

I loved dancing with him. It was such a peaceful and happy moment after a long and tedious day. He is better at it that he gives himself credit for, too! I am barely any better than him, and I was raised attending balls and other such nonsense until the age of 11.

Q: What are your favourite foods? Least favourite foods?

Three words: Frilly. Little. Cakes. 

I love them. I also love a good traditional Fereldan stew. Many Marchers will claim that their food is superior, but don’t listen. Nothing is heartier than what I’ve had since being here. I think I might have been adopted over from Ferelden as a boy, haha!

Least favourite foods… hmm… I was once cajoled into tasting Anders ham as a boy, and believe me, they are not exaggerating when they say it tastes of despair. 

Q: How did you feel when you learned how the anchor worked?

When Solas held my hand up to that first rift, I was more than a little bit disturbed. It felt odd. As if the rift was pulling from my hand and feeding from my own mana. And just like that, I could bend it to my will. It was… strange. I am used to it now, but I definitely had nightmares in the beginning. I’ve never felt so intrinsically linked to something so dangerous. Learning to wield the anchor was no small task, either, believe me.

Q:Who are you closest to, other than Cullen?

I would say I am closest to Dorian and Josephine. 

Dorian and I had a bit of a fling, but we found we worked best as friends, if flirtatious ones. I trust him with my life and I hope he can say the same of me. He’s a good man. I admire him. 

Josephine is just a very lovely lady, and surprisingly fun when she lets her hair down. I also trust her with my life. She is an excellent source of gossip as well, so it is nice to sit down with a cup of tea in her office for a couple of hours and just chat. In the war room, she joins me in teasing Cullen too, which is always fun; especially when I get to make it up to him later.

[midnightprelude]

OC Interview | Lyanna Lavellan

Thanks for the tag @whimsyswastry​!

Here’s a bit about my Lavellan, Lyanna, who will eventually, one day, be in Tevinter Knights. <3

Artwork by my dear @lethendralis-paints​.

| BASICS |

Name? -> Lyanna Lavellan, Herald of Andraste, Inquisitor, et cetera

Single? -> Who knows?

Happy? -> Happiness is for those who don’t have more important things to do.

Angry? -> If you’re not angry, you might as well be dead. There are so many injustices in the world that if there isn’t something driving you to act, then you’re a fool

Parents? -> Mother was murdered by the Orlesians, father was murdered by human indifference.

 | FACTS |

Birthplace? -> Unsure. My parents traveled frequently with the clan, until my father took ill dear Denerim.

Hair? -> Red and curly, if it wasn’t painfully obvious.

Eyes? -> Green.

Birthday? -> I don’t put much stock in such celebrations. There’s nobody alive who could tell me when it was anyhow and I forgot a long time ago.

Mood? -> Murderous

Gender? -> Female

Season? -> I like summer in Orlais. Soft grass makes it easier to sneak—my victims are usually unsuspecting. I prefer it that way.

Time? -> Early morning, before anyone stirs.

 | LOVE LIFE |

Are you in love? -> I thought I was, but it was a lie like everything else.

Do you believe in love at first sight? -> Certainly not.

Who ended your last relationship? -> He did, when he took my arm and told me everything I knew of him was a lie.

Have you ever broken someone’s heart? -> His, probably, for loving him despite it.

Are you afraid of commitment? -> I wouldn’t have an answer to that question

Have you hugged someone within the last week? -> Dorian, it had been some time. It is rather lovely to see him again, I’ve missed the man.

Have you ever had a secret admirer? -> There was a young man in my company when I fought against the Orlesian chevaliers. I killed three of them when they cleaved him in two.

Have you ever had your heart broken? -> I don’t know.

 | CHOICES |

Love or Lust? -> Neither. Duty.

Lemonade or Iced tea? -> Tea, black and strong.

Cats or Dogs? -> *She nods to the snow white creature perched on her shoulder*. Fennecs.

A few best friends or many regular friends? -> Loyal friends, the number doesn’t matter.

Wild night out or romantic night in? -> It depends upon with whom.

Day or Night? ->

 | HAVE YOU EVERS |

Been caught sneaking out? -> That would imply that I had a home to “sneak out” of, which I didn’t. I have been traveling mostly since I was a teenager.

Fallen down/up the stairs? -> Of course not.

Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? -> Yes.

Wanted to disappear? -> No. I can disappear when I wish to, but I wish to be seen when it counts.

| PREFERENCES |

Smile or Eyes? -> Eyes. You cannot hide as much in them.

Shorter or Taller? -> I don’t have a preference, but given that I’m rather small, most individuals would be taller.

Intelligence or Attraction? -> Both, certainly.

Hook-up or Relationship? -> I can be convinced of either.

| FAMILY |

Do you and your family get along? -> Blood relatives? They’re all dead. I have people who count as family, but no, we don’t always get along.

Would you say you have a “messed up life?” -> I’ve never considered this question. I was too busy trying to survive to self-actualize.

Have you ever run away from home? -> My home is beneath the trees, under the stars, and has been since I was young. When my mother met my step-father, we largely left the clan, traveling around Orlais and Ferelden. He was a healer, an apostate, the only one who cared to help my father. They’re both dead now.

Have you ever gotten kicked out? -> I was, but it wasn’t my home, but my occupation for a short while. You can only pretend to be a virgin in a brothel for so long before people start to catch on. Pay’s better for virgins. I was once. I’m not anymore.

| FRIENDS |

Do you secretly hate one of your friends? -> Absolutely not.

Do you consider all your friends ‘good friends?’ -> I would die for them, kill for them, and have done both. To varying degrees and with varying success.

Who is your best friend? -> Dorian, but Cassandra was more tender than I ever expected her to be.

Who knows everything about you? -> *she laughs* I do. And the Creators, if they’re watching.

[saphylee]

12 for Tasami, 17 for Sylastian, 19 for Thelbull, 27 for Lacelee

These got long so I’m putting them under the cut!

Tasami - Tamralan x Asami

12. Do they have similar goals? If they clash, how do they deal?

They do share a similar and very important goal, I believe: to make the world a better place for everyone, regardless of the circumstances of their birth. Asami does this on an international scale while Tamralan tends to keep it more local within his clan and family. He simply doesn’t have the connections and time to devote to a larger scale operation. And they both are fully prepared to do whatever it takes to achieve their goals, including, and not limited to, murder.

I don’t know if this counts as a goal, but I feel they value a love that has no strings. Asami is very devoted to her work and Tamralan is devoted to his clan, so there can be long periods of time where they don’t see or hear from each other. It’s important for them to not have any resentment because of this. They don’t try to change each other and love each other exactly as they are. They never established themselves as exclusive, they are still rather committed to each other, and for them, it works.

I don’t see them clashing too much. There are times that he wants Asami to be more safe and there are times that she wants him to actually take care of himself for once. I feel like while they chastise each other for it and promise to try, they both know they can’t force the other and they are who they are. It turns into one of those things that aren’t worth bringing up and arguing about, and also in a way, their stubbornness and devotion to others are one of the many things they love about each other.The big clash is when Tamralan decides that he doesn’t want to wait for those fleeting moments together; he wants her to stay. But Asami isn’t one to settle, and maybe in another life, I can see Tam dropping everything to be with her and work on missions together as Thedas’ deadliest couple. But after his mom dies, he just wants to be with his daughter and grandchildren, the only family he has left. And he wants someone to wake up to everyday. Normally, he’s all for compromise, but I feel this is one thing there can’t be a compromise on.

Sylastian - Sebastian Vael x Sylathi

17. Their ways of expressing their love.

There are many ways they express their love that don’t involve saying the word! They can be rather tactile: holding hands, primping each other before going out in public, small touches as they pass, correcting stances in archery even if they can with verbal cues only, hugs, so many hugs, hair petting, brushing fingers if they’re in official company and standing close enough to touch. Sometimes when life is too much, they just press their foreheads together, close their eyes, and breathe.

Sebastian will leave notes for her to find as that was the only way they communicated for years. He remembers that his letters were sometimes the only hope thing Sylathi looked forward to. They could be simple notes, wishing her well, or complimenting a feature he loved the most about her that day: her eyes, smile, hair, her singing voice when she thinks no one is listening. He will frequently take trips with her to clan Lavellan as he knows her heritage and clan are still very important to her and he would never deprive her of that connection.

Sylathi will pray with him, usually to her gods, but sometimes to Andraste when Sebastian is facing difficult trials. In her notes to him, she would leave drawings of anything that caught her fancy that day, that made her think of him. On late nights where he can’t break away from his study, pouring over paperwork, she brings him tea and food, and stays with him until exhaustion overtakes him. The next morning, she makes sure no one disturbs him so he could sleep for at least an hour longer.

Thelbull - Thelrand x The Iron Bull

19. Describe how they communicate

A lot of their communication isn’t verbal. Bull is trained to read a room and to read people and usually can tell what’s on Thelrand’s mind before he admits it just by looking at his body language. Thelrand isn’t as effective at this as Bull is really good at hiding what he’s thinking, but Bull can’t always hide everything either. Thelrand gets more lovey and physically affectionate when he’s in a good mood and is more distant when he’s struggling. Bull is more playful and talkative when he’s feeling good, and more pensive and silent when something is wrong. They’re both prone to not bring anything up until it’s mentioned so it doesn’t take much prodding to admit what’s on their minds. Most of the time. They both still have their secrets they’re unwilling to share.

Lacelee - Lace Harding x Leonie “Lee”

27. What makes you excited about their relationship?

It’s a very natural and organic relationship. Lee is usually a blushing mess around beautiful women, but Lee was immediately comfortable with Lace from the start, and it wasn’t like Lee didn’t think she wasn’t gorgeous. It’s just that Lace is so easy going and has a very calming aura that Lee picks up on immediately. It didn’t take long for them to become friends and eventually grew into something more precious. There wasn’t a defining moment that had them develop romantic feelings. It just happened naturally. It went from Lee happy to see Lace on their missions and around Skyhold to wanting to be around her all the time, to make her smile, and just talk to her about anything and everything.

[dafheannaig13-blog]

About the Muse

 i snatched it off @heraldofwho who is very cool! 😃

Your muse’s name:

Maxwell Seumas Trevelyan, but he prefers Max

A favourite picture / faceclaim of your muse:

*casually drops a cropped version of an older drawing bc i have nothing better at the moment*

Two headcanons you have for your muse:

-Max absolutely despises templars and would happily slaughter the lot of them rrgh fuCKING CULLEN, because he has Issues.  The most he ever killed by himself in one go? Fourteen templars in the Ostwick circle, after he found out what they did to his sister.  The pent-up rage and despair and feelings of helplessness of the twenty-one years leading up to that point caused him to snap.  Max went into a berserker-like state and slew fourteen templars, including the knight-captain, and nearly the first enchanter as well.  After that, he began training as a proper reaver, because he knew that he needed to learn to control and direct his emotions, or else they'd overtake him.

Max does not regret his actions, though.  He’s not proud of it, or that he escaped the gallows due to his family name, and he doesn’t talk about it.  But he would do it again. He doesn't care what that says about him.

- Max knows how to juggle.  He has a flask of whisky in a not-so-secret pocket at all times, and carries several knives concealed about his person for the purposes of eating, stabbing, throwing, etc.  He abhors the chantry and frequently insults it, so he and Cassandra fight like cats and dogs.  He’s actually fond of her, though. She probably hates him, bc when she and Leliana first called Max the ‘herald of Andraste’, Max laughed so hard he nearly pissed himself.  He almost caused a Diplomatic Incident bc he refuses to bow to anyone--even the Empress of Orlais.  Max hates being called the herald or ‘your worship’ etc and fucks with the boot-lickers who try and curry favour with him. Dorian finds it hilarious. The only time he ever used his position to get his way was with that prick who had Dorian’s amulet--and it was a good fucking bluff, bc he’s not of the main family, just a branch of ‘impoverished gentry’ (like, they have land, but the family home is in a right state and the vault is...empty. And they’ve no staff. And Bann Trevelyan is a special individual.)

Three things that your muse likes doing in their free time:

-Music! Max is made of music (mostly bagpipes), he loves singing and knows how to play the lute. Sometimes he steals the one from Dorian's nook and uses it to ~serenade~ him. (Max knows SO MANY sappy love songs and laments.)  He has also been known to provide lullabies to the dying, even out in the field (bc how are these people dying for this cause he’s not sure he’s even on board with, they fucking die in his name how is he ever going to live with himself if he isn’t killed horribly by Coryphe-tits), to perform classic Free Marches tavern songs with Blackwall, and even occasionally rope the entirety of the Herald's Rest (or just the travelling party) into waulking songs (u know the ones they used to do when they were waulking wool, and one person sings the verses and everyone joins in the bit with just nonsense words or whatever?? Chuir m'athair mise dhan taigh charraideach, or hè mo leannan, hò mo leannan, ones like that?? good shite, cracking songs).  

Only when he's drunk, though. 

(He's drunk a lot.)

-Max has a soft spot for children. Having spent so much time in the role of caregiver, it's only too easy to fall back into old habits, especially with the number of orphans the inquisition...acquired after Haven.  He plays with the kids when he gets the chance, and can often be found making them laugh by sassing the chantry sisters and shouting various obscenities.

-Max is an excellent horseman.  He took to riding like a duck to water, and has always had a way with horses. The only horse he's ever met that didn't like him is the Ferelden Forder he got from Master Dennet--and he suspects it's because the horse somehow knows that Max was a jerk to its master.  As revenge, Max calls the horse 'Sweet Roll'; as revenge for that, Sweet Roll has eaten several of Max's gloves and bitten a hole in more than one pair of Max's trousers. The cycle of vengeance is never-ending. (Let it be known that his own horse at home, Rowan, is a sturdy Free Marches Ranger that loves him and doesn't eat his clothes.)

Seven people your muse loves / likes:

-Elinor, nicknamed Eilidh (u say it like 'ae-lee') -- She is Max's middle sister, about five years younger than he is.  She has dark hair and blue eyes like her brother, but she is slight whilst he is tall.  Elinor was a mage, made tranquil at the age of sixteen under suspicious circumstances. She was very shy and quiet, but also very compassionate, as well as the best musician in the family before she was magically castrated.  Since returning home, she has cultivated a large garden which she tends devotedly, and also has a small army of cats.  They are all named after berries.  Max fought like a wild-cat to protect her when the templars came to take Elinor away to the circle, even tried shielding her with his body, which is how he got the scar on his face. He adores her and would do anything for her.

-Catrìona, nicknamed Ceit (sounds just like 'Kate') is Max's youngest sister.  She is ten years his junior, so he more or less raised her, even tutoring her in swordsmanship, horsemanship, archery (though she's a better shot), etc.  She is a sprightly ginger-haired lass with blue eyes and loads of freckles, who talks very loudly and laughs very loudly and wILL CHALLENGE U TO A FIGHT IF U INSULT HER BROTHER OR SISTER, THANKS!  She's nearly fearless, very kind, and her best friend is her own horse, an ornery beast called Storm. (Storm bites. So does Ceit.)  She and Max play-fight and jokingly call each other names, but they adore each other.

So basically she's sort of Merida. I REGRET NOTHING FIGHT MEEEEEE

-Blackwall! Max is very fond of Blackwall. Top lad. Good set of pipes on him, right good for tavern songs. U know what they call an Ostwick tavern? Taigh-seinnse.

-Varric!  Max is convinced that Varric is one of the best people to ever exist.  If Varric knew how sincerely he means that, he would laugh. Also maybe cry. 

-Dorian!  Max is completely and utterly in love with Dorian. They’re both hopeless romantics and also bad at emotions, so it’s a mess. But a good mess? 😃

-Josephine! She is the source of all goodness in the universe, and probably the actual leader of the entire inquisition. She does all the real work, anyway. Max just kills shite. And rescues lost animals.

-Sera! They pull pranks together. She reminds him a bit of Ceit, as well, so he loves her.

-Honourable mentions:  Solas (he knows so much, and talks about his Fade Travels in that lovely story-teller voice), Harritt (best. blacksmith. evER.), Dagna (she’s fucking delightful), Master Dennet (adorably grumpy old bastard), Helisma (reminds him of Elinor, he looks out for her in case anyone gives her trouble), Fiona (a bad-ass motherfucker if there ever was one), Krem (fun to spar with), Cassandra (fun to spar with), and Grim (a good listener)

Phobia (well, fear, anyway) your muse has:

Himself.  After what he did at the Ostwick circle, Max knows that he is capable not just of killing, but of slaughter.  He does not regret his actions there (justified or not, right or wrong, he doesn't give a shite, he will sacrifice anything for his sisters) but he does worry that one day, the rage will overtake him.  That he'll hurt somebody he loves, that he might lose his friends, his family, his lover.  That he might lose himself.  Being the only son, the eldest, he was supposed to look after the girls.  He'd promised his mother--his dying mother--that he'd always protect them and look after them and just look at how that ended.  Look what he's done--look what he's let happen.  This is what happens when anyone trusts him to do anything--he fucks it up, because he's a selfish, lazy coward who can't do anything right.  He wants so badly to be good, but he's fucking terrible at it, so he mostly stopped trying--enough that everyone else thinks he has a devil-a-bit-do-I-care attitude, that he's loud and irreverent and brash and impulsive and angry and mercurial and careless.

But he does care.  He cares too much.  

That’s his downfall.  Every single time.

Tags:

I TAG YOU!  u know who u are

also @m1lkcl0uds come onnn show off Persephone, she’s adorable ❤