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healthinformationget · 2 years ago

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#Ben Napier Weight Loss Gummies

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ofmdrecaps · 6 months ago

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08/28/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Rhys Darby; Taika Waititi; Con O'Neill; Samba Schutte; Guz Khan; Leslie Jones; Nathan Foad; Bronson Pinchot; Connor Barrett & Brian Gattas; Fan Spotlight: OFMD Colouring Pages; Never Left Podcast Raffle;

== Rhys Darby ==

New line up information for 'Rhys Darby's Saying Funny Things Society' on Oct 1st in Largo LA!

Source: Rhys Darby's Substack (free version)

If you're not already subscribed to Rhys' Sub Stack, please do, there's some fun content there, including Bill Napier videos and daily drawings by Rhys! This weeks Bill Napier Weather Report

Source: Rhys Darby's Substack

Rhys and Rosie's son Finn's band "Great Big Cow" has a new music video out on youtube! Wanna support the Darby family? Check it out!

youtube

Source: Great Big Cow Youtube

== Taika Waititi ==

Looks like Taika's gonna be at Eden Park on 09/29/24 for the Haka Record event!

Source: Taika's Instagram

== Kristian Nairn ==

New Article about Kristian Nairn's book -- as well as a mention of OFMD! Thanks @adoptourcrew for the share!

Source: Adopt Our Crew's Twitter

== Con O'Neill ==

Con recently performed "An Invocation" by Ben Tufnell! Thanks @ringasunn for sending the info my way!

Source: Ben Tufnell's Instagram

== Samba Schutte ==

Samba out with his beautiful baby <3

Source: Samba's Instagram

Next up in Samba land-- the absolute sweetheart Katrina aka kmostran over on twitter was kind enough to share her birthday gift with the rest of the us! Samba did a quick cameo for her, and talked about all our clowning <3 Happy belated birthday Katrina, and thanks for spreading the love!

Source: Katrina aka kmostran on twitter!

== Guz Khan ==

BTS of Man Like Mobeen!

Source: Guz Khan's Instagram

== Nathan Foad ==

Nathan keeping us all on our toes with laughs and love!

Source: Nathan Foad's Instagram Stories

One of Nathan's Projects-- 'Dope Fiend' is heading to Denmark for the Mix Copenhagen (LGBTQ+) Film Festival from Oct 25-Nov 3rd!

Source: SungazerProduction Instagram

== Leslie Jones ==

Leslie rocking a SERIOUSLY slick white suit for The Daily Show!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Leslie Jones (@lesdogggg)

instagram

Source: Leslie's Instagram

== Bronson Pinchot ==

Bronson's back with more Ned Low shorts! Not sure why but it wont let me share it properly-- so you'll have to visit on instagram here.

Source: Bronson Pinchot's Instagram

== Conner Barrett & Brian Gattas ==

Our darling Hornberry, and Siegfried celebrated 18 years together on September 27th!

Source: Connor's Instagram

== Fan Spotlight ==

= OFMD Colouring Pages =

Our friend @patchworkpiratebear is back with more OFMD themed Colouring Pages!

Source: Patchwork Pirate Bear's Tumblr

= Never Left Podcast Raffle =

Are you a patron of Never Left Podcast? Would you like to be? Well nows the time to support your favorite podcast by joining their patreon! They're giving away one of Ed's Emerald rings!

Source: Never Left Podcast Instagram

== Love Notes ==

Since I am fading fast tonight lovelies, I'm going to go ahead and replace tonight's Love Notes with goofy Moo Deng memes, hopefully they make you smile like they did for me <3 Sending so much love your way, hope you are making it through the weekend safely (especially you folks getting hit by the hurricane). Please reach out to the crew if you need some help loves <3

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Danielle Peterson (@hollabackcards)

instagram

Source: Tulip Season on Tumblr

#daily ofmd recap #ofmd daily recap #connor barrett #brian gattas #rhys darby #rhys darby faction #ofmd #our flag means death #never left podcast #samba schutte #con o'neill #guz khan #leslie jones #nathan foad #kristian nairn #bronson pinchot #taika waititi #Youtube #Instagram

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dis0rderly-cl0wn-nerd · 1 month ago

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Designated Driver

Jack Napier x Fem!Reader (Ledger!Joker x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Jack Napier, currently enlisted in the army, finds himself in a crowded bar on a Saturday night as the designated driver for some of the guys in his squad. While waiting around, he meets Y/n, who's in a similar predicament.

Author's Note: It snowed so I got to stay in and write today. Small mercies I tell you. I was having trouble finding time to finish this. This doesn't take place inside my backstory fic I wrote for him. It's more like a what-if scenario. I thought of this while I was brainstorming ideas for future oneshots and I just had to write it 🤭 This might actually be dumb but it seemed like a good idea at the time lmao.

Taglist: @alittlesmartcookie @furisodespirit @lightsabergirl @gothic-aesthetic-gal

How he got roped into going to a rowdy southern bar on a Saturday night, was beyond Jack.

He was not at all thrilled to be there. Some of the other guys in his squad begged him to come, mostly because they needed a driver. By a little bit, he was too young to legally drink, but he also outright refused to. For reasons he wouldn’t disclose to them.

Jack knew if even one of them fucked up and got arrested over the weekend, they were all in for it. So being the responsible one, and to save his own hide, he agreed to go along.

While the guys were up front at the bar flirting with girls and acting like complete fools, Jack sat at a table nearby, brooding and absently playing a triangle peg game. He wasn’t in uniform, but his dog tags were hanging over his shirt. That combined with his build and his army approved haircut made him easily recognizable as a soldier.

The bar was bustling with people and so fucking loud. Country music was obnoxiously playing at full blast over the speakers, grating on Jack’s nerves and reminding him once again that he was undeniably in the deep south.

He glanced at his watch and groaned, slamming his head down on his forearms. It was only 2030 hours, or 8:30 for a civilian. This never ending night was dragging on and on. His head was killing him and he just wanted to get back to the barracks so he could take a shower and sleep. He probably wasn’t going to be able to anytime soon.

Jack decided to pass the time by people-watching. In these circumstances it would be very interesting. He noticed a young woman around his age angrily leave the bar after arguing with one of the rowdy girls his squad members were flirting with. The woman looked tired and annoyed just like he was. She obviously didn’t want to be there either.

The woman got closer to his table and then pulled out a stool across from him, sitting down with a weary sigh. Jack tried to pay her no mind and kept his head down.

She looked over at him and chuckled. “I’m guessing you’re the driver, huh?”

“Yep.”

“Me too. For the girls I mean.”

Jack said nothing and nodded, trying not to make eye contact with her. But she insisted on talking to him.

“My name’s Y/n. You?”

“Jack.”

She smiled. “You’re very responsible, Jack.”

“If I let them get wasted and go do something stupid, my sergeant will kill me.” Jack grumbled.

“Heh. Fort Benning, right?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s your rank?”

“E-3.”

“Uh, layman’s terms.”

“Private First Class.”

“Ooh, snazzy.”

Jack snorted. “Hardly.”

“How long have you been enlisted?”

“Uhh, close to a year and a half I think.”

“Where are you from?”

“You know where Gotham City is?”

“Yeah.”

“About 3 or 4 hours away from there.”

“Wow. That’s pretty far. How’re you liking Georgia?”

“Love it.” Jack muttered.

Y/n laughed. “I get it. I don’t like the heat.”

“Tell me about it. You step outside for a second and then you’re soaking wet."

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of hooping and hollering from the bar. The girl Y/n had argued with earlier was standing on the bar downing another shot.

“Oh my God… Seriously Holly?” Y/n whispered to herself, clearly embarrassed by her friend’s behavior.

Jack facepalmed. He would have laughed if he wasn’t stuck in a similar situation.

“Girl, get down from there!” Y/n hissed at the girl who was blissfully unaware.

“Just let them have their fun, they’ll tire out eventually. I hope.” Jack said with a small yawn. Damn, he was tired.

Y/n sighed. “I guess so. Do you want anything?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I ate something earlier.”

“Alright. Well damn, what’re we supposed to do all night?”

“I don’t know but this noise is killing me…” Jack complained, rubbing his temples.

“Wanna go wait outside?” Y/n suggested.

“That’d be nice.”

“Let’s go then.”

Y/n hopped down from the stool she was sitting on and walked towards the entrance, Jack following close behind. He grabbed the wooden doors as they swung open and held them for Y/n.

“Thank you, sir.” She said sweetly as she passed through.

Jack led her through the parking lot over to his pickup and lowered the tailgate for them to sit on. They both climbed in and sat down a decent distance away from each other. Jack’s headache was immediately soothed by the peace and quiet.

“This is a lot better.” He noted as a cool breeze ruffled his hair.

“Way better.” Y/n agreed.

Jack fished some stuff out from his pocket. “You mind if I smoke?”

“Not at all.”

Jack lit the cigarette and took a long drag, exhaling in content. He made sure to try and keep the smoke in the opposite direction. Y/n shifted her legs awkwardly and kept her eyes trained on her lap. Jack took notice.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. This is probably making you uncomfortable, I’m sure.”

“No. Why?”

“You don’t think it’s weird you’re sitting in the back of a truck with some guy you just met?”

“I have nothing better to do. I reckon you could use some company.”

Jack smirked. “You reckon?”

Y/n smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. My accent sticks out sometimes.”

“Are you from here?”

“Yeah. Lived here my whole life.”

“Mhm. You ever thought of leaving?”

“No. I don’t have a reason to. All my family’s here. I have a stable job right now.”

“Oh.” Jack said, staring off into the distance.

Y/n slid closer to him. “What’s your hometown like?”

“Boring. There’s nothing out there. It’s in the middle of nowhere.”

“Is that why you joined the army? To get away?”

“That’s part of the reason, yeah. My grades were also pretty bad.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Not yet.” Jack replied with a grim smile.

Y/n softened, realizing what he meant. “Do you think you’ll have to go to war?”

“I don’t know. Nobody really does. No one has control over what happens. It’ll be what it’s gonna be.”

“Well, hopefully not.”

Jack nodded and stretched his arms above his head, yawning once more. He flicked his wrist and looked down at his watch. It now read a little after 2100 hours. He sighed, shaking his head.

“What time is it?” Y/n asked.

"A little past 9 o’clock.”

“Man. What time do you think they’ll finish up?”

“Who knows? Those guys are crazy.”

Y/n laughed to herself. “You don’t like them, do you?”

“No. They’re always fucking up and getting me in trouble.”

“Aw. You're doing something nice for them though.”

Jack scoffed. “Yeah, to save my own ass.”

Y/n chuckled. “Be that as it may, you’re still looking out for them.”

“I guess.”

—

An hour later, Jack and Y/n were still sitting in the back of Jack’s truck, leaning against the back windshield and continuing in light conversation. Jack was so tired he nearly dozed off a time or two.

After what felt like forever, the creaking of the wooden doors and echoes of drunk laughter got their attention. They looked up to see their companions come stumbling out of the bar looking for them. Both of them breathed a sigh of relief.

“Finally…” Jack murmured.

The guys said goodbye to Y/n's friends and started walking towards the truck. One girl grabbed Y/n's hand and motioned for her to come along. "There you are, Y/n! Come on girl, it's getting late! We still have work tomorrow."

Y/n huffed. "Okay, okay! Wait a minute."

She turned to Jack, holding a folded up piece of paper. She placed it into his hand with a small grin. "Call me sometime."

Jack blushed and looked down nervously. "Oh, um...okay. Thanks."

With that, she was gone. Her friends were pulling her in the opposite direction to where their car was parked. Jack could only stand there stunned speechless.

One of the guys came over and punched his arm playfully. "Alright, Napier! You're a real ladies man."

Jack rolled his eyes and punched him back. "Shut up and get in the truck."

Everyone piled in the front, trying to make the most of the cramped space. Jack got in the driver's seat and couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of them. He started the truck and backed out of the parking lot, smiling to himself as he pondered about Y/n some more. She was a beautiful girl and very kind. Maybe he’d see her again someday.

His wishful thinking was halted at the sound of someone gagging in the passenger seat.

“Fletcher! You throw up in here and I swear to God-!” He yelled over his shoulder.

"Sorry, Jack." Fletcher managed to say, holding his mouth.

Jack hit his head against the rim of the steering wheel as he came to a red light. When he got back to the barracks, he was going straight to bed. He'd had enough nonsense for one day.

#ledger joker x reader #ledger joker x fem!reader #ledger joker #jack napier #heath ledger #the dark knight #nolanverse #my writing

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70s80sandbeyond · 4 months ago

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Ben Napier from HGTV's "Home Town"

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lasatfat · 9 months ago

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Knight's Gambit

also on AO3

“In the laboratory, the gambits all test unfavourably, but the old rule wears well, that all gambits are sound over the board.” – William Ewart Napier

As Commander of the Inquisition, Cullen spends most of his waking hours in his office, on the training grounds, at the War Table, or travelling between the three. Even his meals, when he can stomach food at all, are eaten at his desk around his paperwork, or off of a plate in his lap in between training drills. When the workload eases a little, or the walls of his office seem to press in too close, he has taken to spending time in the gardens. He can take some of his less sensitive paperwork with him, or when he has a rare moment of free time, he can play chess or simply listen to the birdsong.

It’s one of those days today, and thankfully not because of the lyrium. The Inquisitor has just returned from their excursion to Crestwood, to establish contact with Hawke’s allies in the Wardens, and each member of the party turned in mission reports of varying quality and usefulness. None of them are sensitive enough to require privacy, so Cullen is sitting in the garden to read them through.

Cassandra’s are, as usual, perfect: concise summaries of the taking of Caer Bronach, the closing of the rift in the lake, and the meeting with Warden-Commander Theirin. The crimes of Mayor Dedrick. The only issue with the Iron Bull’s reports is the amount of back-and-forth clarification they’ll require. He includes several details that appear irrelevant, but Cullen knows by now to assume that those details are important in some way. He also marks any information he plans to send to his colleagues in the Ben-Hassrath. Gideon had never written any kind of report before coming to the Inquisition, and in many ways, it still shows; some parts of his write-ups are more like blow-by-blow accounts of an expedition’s events, rather than summaries of their missions and information about the area. Hawke had submitted a report of their own, though it reads more like a personal letter, with several questions about how Cullen is doing and when they can meet for “a proper catch-up.” Finally, Cole’s attempt is borderline incomprehensible, and the few details Cullen can decipher are mostly frivolous.

(Still, at least he’d made the effort. The closest thing to a field report Cullen had ever received from Sera was a drawing of Solas engaged in lewd acts with a Despair Demon. It was both inappropriate and unhelpful, no matter how well-drawn it was).

It’s while he’s trying to unravel Cole’s prose that Cullen catches movement in the corner of his eye. He looks to his left, and finds a cat perched on the bench beside him. There are hundreds of cats in Skyhold; not even Solas can say how long they’ve been living feral in the ruined halls and forgotten libraries, roaming the abandoned streets of the village, and hunting in the overgrown fields of the farms. This cat, however, is another newcomer in these ancient walls.

“Ser Purrlock,” he says, cordially. Her ear flicks at the mention of her name, and she pushes her head against his gloved hand.

The distraction has brought his attention not only to the cat, but to the sounds of the garden around him: birds calling in the trees, the whistling of wind through the battlements, the low hum of conversation. There are two particular voices nearby that he recognises. One of them is Torunn, which would explain Purrlock’s presence. There’s the quiet scraping of stone on stone, and a little click. The two are playing chess.

“…don’t understand it, Dor,” she’s saying. “He could have his pick of most of the girls here. And half the men.”

Dorian Pavus, her opponent, hums in agreement. “He certainly has a wide appeal.”

“Right? So what’s he doing kissing me?”

At this point, it becomes obvious to Cullen that they’re probably talking about him. He ought to make himself known, or better yet, walk away and let them finish their conversation in peace, but before he can do anything, Purrlock decides to clamber onto his lap. She settles facing away from him, as if she too is reading Cole’s report.

“No, no, shoo!” he whispers. The cat turns her head to stare up at his face, and the obstinate look in her large, blue eyes tells Cullen that she’s staying put, thank you very much.

“Are you complaining?” asks Dorian.

“No! I just…” Torunn pauses, and moves another piece. “I don’t understand what he sees in me, y’know?”

“You give yourself far too little credit, Torunn,” Dorian argues. “You’re a marvellous woman.” Cullen almost snorts. ‘Marvellous’ is far too small a word. He could list every compliment he felt applied – and there are countless compliments that apply to Torunn – and it still would not be anything close to enough.

Torunn speaks again. “You’re only saying that because you’re trying to nick my tower.”

There’s a brief scuffle, in which Torunn presumably snatches her tower back and returns it to its place on the board. Cullen swallows a laugh. Of all the people he has played with, Dorian ranks second only to Leliana in terms of egregious cheating.

“I say it because I mean it,” Dorian insists. “Stealing your tower would have been a bonus.”

“Come on, Dorian. You know as well as I do, men like him don’t go for women like me unless they’re curious.”

He ought to be offended, he supposes, but he is too busy reviewing all of his past interactions with Torunn, wondering where he might have given her such an impression. Perhaps she speaks from past experience, but that thought somehow bothers him more.

Someone moves a piece, and by the sounds of it, takes another. “One thing I do know is not to put a man’s rejections in his mouth,” says Dorian. “If our noble Commander isn’t interested in taking it further, let him tell you himself. And it’ll be his loss,” he adds, decisively.

Torunn falls quiet for a short while. “You know, one of these days, you’re gonna have to teach me how to play this properly,” she says, gruffly.

Dorian laughs. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Torunn snorts, and they settle into a moment of more comfortable silence. Purrlock, in turn, settles into a more comfortable position in Cullen’s lap, curled around on herself in the dip between his legs.

“So, how about you?” Torunn asks, eventually. “Made any moves on our Lord Inquisitor yet?”

Cullen frowns. Listening to a conversation about himself is one thing, but Dorian’s private business is none of his concern. He tries to lift Purrlock, and receives a loud hiss for his trouble. He withdraws his hands, hushing her frantically. She fixes him with a glare uncannily similar to one of Cassandra’s glowering looks, before snuggling back down to sleep.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” says Dorian, only half-playfully.

“Oh, come on, you’re always flirting with each other,” she retorts. “He’s sweet. I think you’d be really good together.”

Dorian is silent, for a disconcertingly long time. Cullen can understand his apprehension: as a Tevinter mage, many in the south treat Dorian with suspicion at best, and active hostility at worst. To court the Inquisitor would likely attract yet more animosity, and no doubt some of it would spill over onto the Inquisitor himself. Cullen would not want to risk contributing to such danger either.

“On the other hand, he’s a strip of nothing,” Torunn adds, when Dorian doesn’t reply. “You’ll get papercuts.”

Cullen can picture Dorian’s smirk when he says, “perhaps I like papercuts.”

“Oh!” Torunn moans, disgusted. “Oh, don’t even joke about that!”

“The way they feel on my skin, it’s just so…”

“Stop!” she demands, even as she’s cracking up. “Here, take my tower. Take both my towers! Take all my fucking pieces!”

They both roar with laughter. The clamour startles Purrlock, and she finally jumps from his lap and disappears into the bushes, presumably to find a quieter place for a nap. Cullen wastes no time in exercising his freedom – he stands up, and makes a beeline for the gazebo.

Dorian catches sight of him first. “Ah! Speak of demons, and thus they appear.”

Torunn looks over. “I know he was a Templar, Dor, but that’s a bit harsh.”

They both laugh again, though Torunn tries to apologise through it. She needn’t worry.

“I must be going,” Dorian says, once he’s finished laughing. “I’ve a thousand things I need to do.” He shunts his chair back and stands, in two fluid motions, as if he’s rehearsed the movement a hundred times. “Perhaps this is your chance for an honest game, Torunn.”

He gives Cullen a look as he passes, one that says hurt her, and you’ll have me to answer to. Cullen nods; he wouldn’t expect anything less. And he wonders if Torunn will give the same look to the Inquisitor, should she be put in Dorian’s current position.

Torunn doesn’t notice their silent exchange, preoccupied as she is with resetting the chess board. Cullen takes the seat opposite her. She has been playing with the black pieces, which seems a little mean-spirited on Dorian’s part.

“Don’t go easy on me, alright?” she says, which might explain it. “I hate it when people do that.”

“Very well,” he responds.

Torunn puts the last piece into place, ready to begin the game. “White moves first, right?” She gestures to his pieces. “After you.”

Cullen starts with his queen’s pawn, moving it two squares forward. She responds with her right mage’s pawn.

“How’s your head?” she asks. “Is the peppermint helping?”

“Yes, thank you.” He moves his king’s pawn next. “Though I haven’t needed any today.”

“Good.” She gestures over his shoulder, beyond the gazebo, after taking her turn. “You know mint grows in the garden here? If I can cross the right plants, I can breed some peppermint myself. Remind me after you’ve won this and I can show you, if you want.”

Cullen frowns. “We’ve made two moves each. You have every opportunity to win.”

“You’ve seen who my teacher is,” she retorts, as she moves her right-hand knight forward.

Dorian’s attempt at a tower theft is fresh in Cullen’s memory. “You make a fair point.”

Torunn smirks, taking one of his pawns. He has drawn her mage out.

“What about you?” she asks, blissfully unaware of the ground she has ceded. “Who taught you to play?”

“I suppose it was my sister,” he replies. “She would get this stuck-up grin on her face whenever she beat me, which was all the time. My brother and I practised together for weeks, in secret. The look on her face when I finally won…” He smiles, fondly, but it doesn’t last, fading from his face as quickly as it had come. “I do not write to them as often as I should.”

He tells himself that he’s too busy, that he needs time to parse through what has happened and translate it into ink on paper. In truth, he has done so a hundred times over, and each time, he found it wanting. None of it could justify him.

Torunn waits, but when it becomes clear he won’t say more, she picks up the conversation. “So, you have a brother and a sister?”

“A brother and two sisters,” he replies.

“Oh, snap!” she exclaims. “I mean, two brothers and two sisters. I’m one of the sisters, these days.”

Cullen had made both connections before, and he nods, moving one of his pawns to take one of hers. While she has never outright stated that she lived much of her life as a boy, and later a man, neither has she taken great pains to hide it. He understands the idea, at least theoretically. Sisters and brothers of the Chantry will take on a new name when they dedicate their lives to the Maker. A Divine is renamed when she ascends to the Sunburst Throne. Torunn’s reasons may be different, and the changes more than just a name or title, but she had shed an old identity, just as they had. Just as Divine Justinia was Divine Justinia, and Chancellor Roderick was Chancellor Roderick, Torunn is Torunn. That’s all there is to it.

He isn’t sure how to explain all of this, however, or if he even should. Perhaps the comparison is insulting, or he has completely misunderstood the whole concept. Instead, he realises he has remained silent for far too long.

“You are Torunn now,” he blurts, stupidly. “I believe that is most important, not who you were before.”

Torunn considers this for a moment, before she shrugs. “I don’t want to forget him,” she says. “I’m just not him anymore.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I get you.” She relaxes, visibly, and he finds himself sharing some of that relief. “Sorry. Not everyone understands it, especially Tal-Vashoth. The Qun…they kind of assign certain genders to certain jobs. If you’re a tamassran, you’re a woman. If you’re in the antaam, you’re a man. Ameqran, my mentor, he left the Qun when they told him he could either be a man or a midwife.”

“It’s a…” – Cullen searches for the right word – “…common association, I suppose.”

“True. You don’t get many men doing it here, either. The Qun just made it a hard and fast rule,” Torunn agrees. “My tama wanted me to be whatever I wanted to be. She just didn’t consider that I’d want to be a woman. I don’t blame her,” she adds, quickly. “The whole thing is completely different. It’s like learning a new language, I think. It takes a while to understand it.”

“How did you come to understand it?” he asks.

Torunn smirks. “Weirdly enough, it was Hawke.”

“You knew the Champion?”

“I think ‘knowing’ is a bit strong, but we met,” she replies. Her face falls, and she fixes her gaze resolutely on the board. “I said some really ignorant shit. Y’know, all this ‘if you could change your gender, I would’ve done it.’ And they said,” she puts on the appropriate accent, “‘what’s stopping ya? If you wanna be different, be different. Don’t take it out on me.’”

Cullen chuckles. “That sounds like something they’d say.”

Torunn doesn’t share the laugh. Instead, she fiddles with her remaining knight, tracing the curve of the horse’s nose. “I never got the chance to apologise for it,” she says, ruefully. “I don’t even know if they’d wanna hear it.”

“They sought me out when they arrived here, and I did far worse than that,” he offers.

“Yeah, but you helped them, in the end,” she argues. “All I was to them was rude.”

She moves her tower diagonally to take his queen. Cullen thinks she might be cheating, at first, but Dorian had said she wanted an honest game. “No, Torunn, you can’t move a tower diagonally.”

She frowns. “I thought you could to take a piece.”

“I presume Dorian told you that,” he says, with a half-smile.

Torunn takes a moment to realise the implication.

“That jammy git,” she grumbles, as she moves the pieces back to their previous position. “You wait ‘til I see him. I’ll shift his tower diagonally.” She grimaces, moving her mage. “That sounded less violent in my head.”

Cullen moves a pawn forward. Torunn moves her king to take his remaining knight…and into a trap several turns in the making.

“So, are you the baby of the family, like me?” she asks.

He decides not to press the Hawke issue, and instead finish the game. “The second-eldest,” he says, moving his queen into place. “Mia is older, Branson and Rosalie are younger. Check.”

Frowning, she points to each of the squares surrounding her king in turn, tracing the moves that his pieces can make. She finds her one way out, moving the king to the right. He moves his mage to block her. “Checkmate.”

Torunn repeats the circling of her king, and finds there is indeed no way out of her predicament.

“Motherfucker.”

Cullen snickers. “It was a good game, for a beginner,” he says. “I enjoyed it.” Though he enjoyed the conversation far more.

“Yeah, me too,” she agrees. “I take it you’re too busy for another game.”

“Unfortunately.” He could happily spend the rest of the day in this sun-drenched garden, teaching her the various strategies Mia had used against him over the years. But, as always, there is work to be done: reports to review, battles to plan, trebuchets that require constant recalibration. “I’m sure you have plenty to get on with, as well.”

“Yeah, they can always use more hands in the infirmary,” she replies. “I’ll clear up here. You get on.”

She begins gathering up the chess pieces, slotting them back into the storage box. Her words are still playing on his mind. Men like him don’t go for women like me. As loathe as he is to have his personal life become a subject for gossip, the idea that Torunn might think him ashamed of her is decidedly worse. Her hand comes to rest beside the game board, and he folds his own around it, heel of his palm pressing to the ring and little fingers. She looks at his hand, and then to his face, as his other hand comes to support her chin.

“May I?” he asks, leaning in, just slightly.

Her face flushes a rather lovely shade of pink, and her mouth kinks up into a smirk. “If you want to.”

Maker, he wants to, as much as he’ll hate to ruin that smile. He catches her bottom lip between his own. There is no surprise this time. She kisses him back, with a contented little sound. Her free hand comes to rest atop his own on the table, and he desperately wishes that he’d had the foresight to leave his gloves off when he dressed that morning.

When he pulls back, she chases him long enough to press a kiss against the scar on his lip. Her smile returns, but softer.

“That was really nice,” he murmurs.

She snickers, but not unkindly. “One way of putting it, I s’pose.” Her eyes flick down to his lips again, but she only takes a deep breath and breaks their gaze. “But this won’t get the baby bathed.”

“It what?”

“I mean, you have stuff to do, and this isn’t doing it,” she chuckles.

Cullen steps back, reluctantly, giving her room to stand. He makes it down the steps of the gazebo, back to the path, before he turns back. “Torunn.”

“Mm?”

“Talk to Hawke. Please,” he adds.

She frowns at him, at first, but her face quickly softens. “I will, if you write to your family.”

Cullen exhales a laugh. He knew she would say that, but he also knows that she’s right. “Alright.”

It won’t take him long. He already has the letters written, after all.

#text #Eddie writes #video games #dragon age #dai #OC: Torunn Adaar #Cullen Rutherford #Dorian Pavus #Culladaar #Cullenmance #obligatory chess fic

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