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pastelwoolfie · 28 days ago

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let me talk about bayverse optimus because i’m always thinking about bayverse optimus.

he is. just. so done. after millennia of fighting and losing so much, it’s this dirtball planet of squishy and entitled humans that does him in. he has prevailed through SO much and these stupid motherfucking organics are the thing that CRUSHES him.

he’s all good in movie one. like, he finds this planet of ‘young’ life and, in their grand scheme of things, they’re innocent - they don’t know any better. yes, they kidnap bee, but like he says - were they so different? and sam, this young organic, the future of his species, he’s - well, he’s odd but he’s kind. to bee. to them. he tries to help them - he advocated for them to the rest of the humans. he trusted them. he was good. lennox, epps, his team, they’re ready to lay down their lives to protect their species - they almost lay down their lives for the transformers.

then the second movie, right? the time between the movies seems to have gone well. this planet who is so afraid of them, so fearful of their weaponry and their war, they allow them safe harbour. they accept more of their stragglers, their friends, and they work together to take down decepticons. it’s good. a mutually exclusive partnership.

then his human friend, the one ho had filled him with so much faith in humanity, he goes ‘nuh uh’ and refuses to help them again. and he goes about it all respectfully- he doesn’t force sam into anything, but he warns him he’s in like, imminent danger and sam sticks his head in the sand.

brother knows what’s about to happen. he sees it coming, he warns the people, he puts up with the government’s bullshit ‘whAt iF tHeYre aFtEr yOu’ with near endless patience.

then the exact thing he warned this small, teenage human about comes to pass. to a t. he gets kidnapped by megatron, he's going to die. but optimus foresaw it. he countered it. he and his autobots fought back -

because sam is innocent. sam just tried to help them, sam saved his life. he saved his life and the autobots then just wanted to live a normal life, free of war. was that so hard to understand?

no. but this little kid ignored his warning, got himself kidnapped, and as a result of that, he gets killed. brother literally dies for this small human who ignored all his warnings and pleading. and he stays dead. for... a decent while.

but then this kid. this kid, man, he goes to the ends of the earth to save him. yes, his planet is at stake, but sam wants to save optimus. he's person-focused, he goes about the entire movie trying to save optimus, focusing in getting him back, not the rest of his species.

sam, who ignored his warning, spent the entire duration of his 'death' struggling to save him. not losing faith in him. sam, this small, young organic, earns the matrix of leadership. he earns it. and he brings optimus back. and, okay, maybe its jarring going from one war zone to another, but - well, it’s the matrix of leadership. it has been lost for eons and this human earns it.

perhaps, that is faith enough.

then the 3rd movie happens. and optimus most certainly loses his shit. on an astronomical, war-crime kinda way he is so fucking done. because these human politics are… they’re so fucking stupid. these humans, who he has trusted the last several years with his life, have betrayed their promise to eachother and lied to him. then they continue antagonising him the entire time. particularly that bitch of a secretary woman oh my god she grids my gears and she definitely grinds optimus’ gears too.

but optimus still has respect. he’s furious with the humans, but he takes one look at buzz - a fellow star-traveller - and he can still have respect. things go up; he gets his mentor back and now there’s two primes. perhaps, it’s not all so bad?

optimus and megatron were brothers once. their friendship ran deep, that’s obvious. when sentinel fucking murders ironhide in the most cruel and cold-hearted way, optimus. he’s so done.

the people closest to him die or betray him. these humans who he’s become close with decide they need to be rid of the autobots, his family, to protect the earth. which is very much a stupid idea to literally everyone because the decepticons are still around? like hello?

optimus can overlook lots of humanities errors as a part of their species being so young. but that move? that was just. so incredibly braindead. but you know what? you know what?

optimus still rises above that. he and the autobots forge a plan to save the earth still.

… a plan that also lets optimus get his revenge and let out some of that pent up anger because oh my GOD does he need to punch something. and punch something he does! the way in which optimus fights in the battle of chicago, as well as many of the other autobots, is borderline feral. they give zero flying fucks about how they go about it, they just want bodies. blood for blood.

just look at how bee kills soundwave. how optimus kills shockwave. how the wreckers kill- well, anyone, really.

optimus is done playing nice. he is done extending his hand for peace and he wants blood. just look at his duel with sentinel and megatron.

and movie 4? oh dear. coming off the betrayal of his mentor, the death of one of his closest friends, and the humans deciding they don’t want transformers at all? being forced into hiding? optimus loses one of the things that he’s clung to thus far. he’s lost hope. there’s no longer an ‘enemy’ around for him to swear revenge on, it’s the humans targeting him now. not the decepticons. the humans, who he has lost so much to save.

he died for them. and now, they want his body once more.

when he finds out they’ve already killed a shit load of his friends? out the window. all of it. noble prime gone, borderline shattered glass prime is in the driver’s seat and, once more, he wants blood. not decepticon blood - no. this time, he wants a human head.

no more is his oath to protect humanity. they have forsaken him and everything he stood for, everything he thought they stood for, and he wants his revenge before he wants out.

it was only a matter of time.

#transformers #transformers brainrot #optimus prime #wolfie bayverse moment #transformers bayverse #bayverse optimus prime #wølfieramble #the moral here i think is that i love peter cullen #that man could tell me to do anything and i’d race to do it #he says jump i say how high

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eggiesins · 4 months ago

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See Me As I Am

Taking a stab at a Dragon Age drabble. The sad tired templar war criminal has consumed me. Feel free to check it out below the cut or on Ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59049958

As always, let me know what you think, and I hope y'all enjoy!

“Lace and taffeta?” Leliana asked, incredulous as she took a step toward Josephine. “Are we to send her to the court of Orlais wrapped up like festival candy? What if action is necessary?” She hit her palm with a fist to emphasize the statement.

Josephine nodded smoothly before replying. “The dress restricts movement, yes, but it is in line with current Orlesian fashion and gives us an advantage with the court as soon as she steps inside the Winter Palace. Not to mention, the silhouette of the red uniform would only heighten her short stature and,” Josephine paused, struggling to find the right words. The Inquisitor was already uncomfortable with the conversation, and she would prefer to not further aggravate the situation. “her...distinct curvature. If she is to pass as fully human to play the Game, a properly fitted dress with heels for height would be the best way to mask the more Dwarven features.”

Leoric had long since gone quiet while her two advisors bickered. To be honest, she wasn’t really even listening anymore. Either way, attending a masquerade ball at the Winter Palace to solve an assassination attempt wouldn’t be fun at all. There was no use letting herself get worked up about something as simple as what she would wear, but the loud arguing between Leiliana and Josephine combined with her grumbling stomach and that damned fly that kept buzzing around the council room had her growing ever more agitated. Whether anyone noticed the rapid bouncing of her leg, the way she had chewed her lip to the point of nearly bursting, they said nothing about it. The tension coiled inside her chest, a familiar anxiety and agitation, a build up of nervous energy threatening to overwhelm her any minute now.

“Okay!” Leoric finally shouted as she stood. Leliana and Josephine immediately turned to face her with wide eyes. Even Cullen, who up until this point had started nodding off in a corner, having finished detailing his security plan for the event, jerked back to attention at the sound of Leoric’s shout. She cast him an accusatory glance for his inaction.

Leoric sighed heavily before she continued in a monotone voice. “Look. However you want to dress me for this thing, I’m sure I’ll hate it either way so why not pick something that does both? Is there a way for me to dress ‘prettily’ enough while still having the mobility to defend myself if necessary? Bonus points if the dress comes with a hidden sleeve for a dagger or two.

“Actually, while we’re on the subject, let me clarify. I hate the Great Game, I hate the idea of being stuck in a room full of back-stabbing, stuffy nobles who are all wearing masks, and, oh yeah, might be assassins.” Leoric let the emphasis on the last word hang in the air before continuing. “Either way, it’s going to be miserable. Either way, how I feel about the situation won’t change a damn thing. I didn’t ask to become the Herald of Andraste, didn’t ask for the title of Inquisitor. I didn’t choose to become a symbol for the Inquisition. The person that I am, the real half-human being that I will be after this Breach is closed, none of it matters anymore.”

She watched as her advisors’ faces fell, feeling a little guilty, and more than a little mortified at how vulnerable she was making herself. She had struggled with her loss of identity since the moment she woke up in Haven, suddenly a hero and beacon of hope. It didn’t matter who she was, what she liked, or what she wanted anymore. Leoric no longer mattered, only the Inquisitor, Andraste’s Chosen. But not once had she shared those thoughts with anyone in her inner circle. Even Varric, skeptical snarky Varric, was starting to believe in her divine patronage more than her. It was nerve-wracking, revealing so much, allowing herself to be so afraid and so hollow in front of people she had only known for a few months.

The room was silent now, the fly’s buzzing long since ceased. Leoric only felt the rapid beating of her heart as she turned her gaze around the room, steadfastly refusing to make eye contact with anyone present. She knew if she looked, she would only find concern, pity, possibly even doubt. It was too much.

Leoric’s voice was low and empty when she finally broke the silence. “Who I was, who I am, and who I will be are all null and void as long as the Inquisition exists. History will not remember Leoric. It will remember the Inquisitor. Find a compromise for the dress. I don’t care.” Her tone finally admitted her defeat, her resignation to her role. Leoric turned on her heel and left.

As soon as she heard the heavy thud of the door closing behind her, Leoric picked up her pace. Moving as quickly as she could without seeming manic - wouldn’t want anyone else in Skyhold to start worrying about her -she made her way out to the courtyard. Ignoring the calls of “Inquisitor!” as she rushed, only focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, Leoric finally found herself at the stables.

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Back in the war room, the advisors sat in tense silence. This was the first time Leoric had so openly expressed any resentment toward her duties as Inquisitor.

“Damn it all,” Cullen cursed, shaking his head. How did it take him this long to realize something was wrong? Even Josephine was shocked by the outburst. Was Leoric truly concealing her feelings the entire time? Or had they all fallen into the same trap as the stray pilgrims who wandered into Skyhold, so blinded by the idea of the Inquisitor, that they completely failed to even recognize the person?

“Perhaps a dress with less structure, greater mobility. Yet long enough to wear pants underneath. Orlesian silk might work, though without a bodice and petticoat it wouldn’t exactly be en vogue for the court. But it could convey the necessary decorum without being too upsetting. We might even turn it to our advantage and start a trend.”

“Leliana!” Josephine’s reprimand echoed in the silent chamber. Leliana shot the ambassador a look.

“I understand the Inquisitor’s upset, and it is unfortunate. But, she is also correct. The Inquisition doesn’t need another person to lend it humanity. If the Inquisition is to succeed, if we are to survive this and defeat Corypheus, she must fulfill her duty as Andraste’s Chosen. I care for her the same as you,” Leliana’s tone turned icy and cold. “But I will not let Divine Justinia’s death be in vain. I will not let the sacrifices of everyone here go to waste, all to spare one woman’s feelings. The Inquisitor knows this and accepts it. She does not like it, but she doesn’t need to. As long as Corypheus is defeated and the world stabilized, that is all that matters. For now, our role is to find her suitable attire to play the Game. We do not need to enjoy it, but we must do it because it must be done.”

Josephine’s expression returned to its normal composed neutrality as she heeded Leliana’s words. “We can’t forget the hidden daggers for her...”

Cullen sighed and left to find Leoric.

Leoric struggled to blink back tears of frustration as she saddled her mare. The buckles slipped from her shaky hands, and the stable boys were too terrified to step up and offer their help. Instead, they pretended not to see their Inquisitor’s tear streaked face and resumed their duties in silence.

“They don’t see me. I am not real. They see their symbol of hope and ignore the rest. They won’t remember me when all is said and done, only what I pretend to be. I’m not real. But if I’m not real, how do I still feel so much? Why does it still hurt?” a soft voice, almost a whisper, right over Leoric’s shoulder.

“Damnit Cole!” Leoric nearly jumped out of her skin as the man appeared next to her. She pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath before turning to face him. “Cole, please. Leave my thoughts to me. I need some time to calm down, and I really can’t trust myself to be nice right now.”

Cole placed a gentle hand on her cheek and bent down to kiss her forehead. “I know what it is to not be real, and what it is to be in between. I remember you, Leoric. The writer, daydreamer, the free soul chained down. You are not lost, and, by someone else who remembers, you are found. Healing the hurt will come, and we will remember.”

Just as Leoric reached up to take Cole’s hand, he disappeared. Her hurt turned dull, and tears streamed freely down her cheeks. It was comforting, having someone she could call a friend. Cole lived outside the hierarchy of the Inquisition, outside the culture that had isolated her. Unlike the others, she knew that he, at least, could follow her and not the Inquisitor.

She turned back to finish saddling the mare. The knot of anxiety in her chest calmed somewhat, but all the pent-up energy still demanded release.

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It didn’t take Cullen long to figure out where Leoric had gone. Cursing under his breath, he moved quickly toward the stables, hoping to catch Leoric before she disappeared somewhere alone. When he finally spotted her, he saw the saddle fall from her horse’s back, watched as she kicked the stable door with everything she had. The sunlight drifted through an open slat in the roof, and even from a distance, he could see the wet shine of tears across her cheeks. His chest clenched at the sight and his feet began to carry him toward her. Until Cole appeared, that is.

Cullen quickly pulled himself to a stop as something sickly green twisted in his stomach. She jumped and Cullen’s eye twitched, his hand clenched. Her furrowed brows and tense jaw melted into something softer, closing her eyes as Cole pressed the kiss to her forehead. The green knotted itself more tightly within him, and Cullen was frustrated. He knew he cared for Leoric. By the Maker, she was all he ever thought about these days. He could be in the middle of paperwork, or training fresh recruits and would find himself wondering about her in the field. If she was eating well, getting enough sleep, if she might be cold during those chilly mountain nights. Sometimes his mind would wander further, though he’d never admit it. How prettily she smiled after winning an argument against Dorian, the way her brows furrowed as she worked on a poem, the afternoon light soaking her hair, her hazel eyes glowing like an emerald dipped in honey. He could kiss the tension away from her, just the same as Cole. Better, even. He would kiss her with all the passion he was capable of, hold her tightly to him as he lavished her with his lips and tongue, let her ride him until she couldn’t think well enough to worry at all. He would call her name like a Chant all its own, make sure she always knew that come what may, she was seen and she was loved.

But those were not thoughts a knight should have about his superior officer. There was still a war to be won, and she wasn’t looking, he was sure. There had been light-hearted flirtations here and there, the occasional blush dashing across her features as they spoke. But she already held the weight of the world on her shoulders. The last thing she needed was the additional burden of his heart, his issues on top. Maybe once things were over, there could be something more, but Cullen didn’t give that idea much attention. From what he understood, she intended to return to travelling with her family. She would finish her novel and live her life free of this Inquisition. Free of him.

Free of Cole, too. Cullen allowed himself to indulge in that small comfort at least.

Then, she was alone, turning back to try and saddle her horse again. Cullen approached cautiously, his mind already churning through how he could say what he should say, and none of it seemed good enough.

“Would you like a hand with that, Leoric?” Leoric’s brain froze hearing the commander call her by name. The tenderness in his voice, the worry and concern, she shouldn’t get her hopes up. She took a deep breath, refusing to turn around and let him see her like this. It was unbecoming of the Inquisitor. Her voice went hoarse as she spoke, doing her best to sound calm and collected.

“This...organization lives or dies by the Inquisitor who guides it. Should I ask for help pulling my boots on in the morning too, Commander?” Leoric winced at her tone, harsher than she meant it to be. She knew Cullen meant well, but that didn’t change the fact that, for the time being, she was his boss. He was just another among the many who expected, needed her to be a strong leader, the demigod they had all prayed for. She had acted out of line in the war room. Her emotions got the better of her and she had failed in her role. It had felt so good! But no matter how it felt to finally explode, it had done no real good for the people who needed her to be more.

Leoric gently pressed her knee into the mare’s side as she pulled the saddle belt tight. Large, gloved hands reached around her, holding the buckle steady and giving an extra yank on the belt. Wordlessly, Cullen finished cinching the saddle in place and gave it an experimental tug. Leoric sighed, trying to ignore just how warm he felt wrapped around her, the security of his solidly armored chest against her back. On a good day, the top of her head barely reached his shoulder. Today, she was tiny, wrapped in the smell of fur and leather, sharpening oil and sweat, the closest she had ever been to him. It was both comforting and infuriating. His attention only felt like pity now.

As soon as the saddle was secure, Leoric swiftly mounted the horse. She kept her gaze fixed straight ahead as she spoke.

“I’m going for a ride, Commander. I will be back. Whatever report you have can wait until then. I’d rather review it with a clear head anyway.” Cullen took hold of the horse’s bridle before she could make good on her escape. It hurt, seeing the woman who had once been so animated and full of mirth turned cold and hollow. Had he truly been so blinded by faith to not notice Leoric’s quiet death? Her slow transformation into this empty shell, the face of the Inquisition?

“I, um, well,” Cullen sighed and let go of her horse. Pretty words were not his gift. He steeled himself and spoke with sincerity. “I’d like to join you, if you’ll have me. Been quite some time since I enjoyed a ride myself.”

Leoric made the mistake of looking down at him, his hopeful expression sending a pang of guilt through her chest. She swallowed and dipped her chin in a low nod. “Try and keep up,” she murmured before urging the horse to take off. As she rode toward the main gate her heart raced and her cheeks grew warm. Leoric chastised herself.

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Leoric slowly picked her way down the steep path into the forest, guiding her mount carefully around the sharp rocks and steep drop-offs down the mountainside. Once they made it into the forest and the road flattened back out, Leoric urged the horse into a brisk gallop. The wind raced through her short hair and her thighs were beginning to burn from how tightly she clung to the saddle. It was amazing. She let her mare choose their direction as she basked in how numb the world began to feel. She could hear only the wind rushing past her, could only feel the cold mountain air chilling her lungs and the warm mount beneath her. The trees zipping by them began to blur and fade into the background.

Cullen, for his part, struggled to catch up to her. He was able to prepare a mount of his own quickly enough, but he was far heavier than Leoric and could never hope to outpace her on horseback. He caught up enough to catch sight of her riding ahead of him, almost losing his grip on the reins in the process. Even from this angle, she looked happy, free. She was beautiful. Cullen could spend the rest of the day happily riding behind her just like this.

Leoric’s smile quickly turned to panic as her mare pulled up short at a sudden log in the path, sending her flying over the horse’s head and tumbling across the ground. Her bare arms scraped across the pebbles, she sucked in a tight breath as a branch tore across the back of her thigh, drawing blood. Her shoulders bruised with the impact, and she muttered a quick word of thanks to the Maker that she remembered to secure her head and neck with her hands. As her rolling slowed to a halt, Leoric let out a low groan of pain. She’d been injured far worse during her time with the Inquisition, but now her pride was bruised as well.

“Herald of Andraste,” she wheezed to herself as she struggled to draw breath. “Dead by tumbling from her horse like an idiot.” She coughed and groaned again, curling into herself for a moment, trying to focus on feeling what parts of her had been hurt.

”-ic! Leoric!” Cullen’s worried voice called out.

“Fuck!” Leoric hissed, utterly humiliated. She didn’t think he would actually follow her. Why would anyone go so far out of sheer pity? At some point, the cost outweighed the benefit, right? The approaching hoofbeats grew louder and Leoric struggled to slowly sit up. She could still hear the hoofbeats even as Cullen’s boots hit the ground with a heavy thud, as his armor clinked and clanged against itself in his hurry toward her. He easily swung himself over the log and dropped to his knees by her side.

At once, he was checking her over, his hands running along her arms and torso before cupping her face gently and checking her eyes for any sign of concussion.

“Are you alright?” he asked in a panic. Before Leoric could respond, he pulled her in close and cradled her head into the fur mantle on his chest. “Maker’s Mercy, I saw you get thrown,” his voice began to shake. “You weren’t moving Leoric. If we los-” Cullen cleared his throat and pressed his cheek to the top of her head. “If I lost you, Leoric I don’t- I-“ “Cullen,” Leoric grumbled through a mouth full of fur. As much as she wanted to know how that thought ended, the gash on her thigh was giving her no reprieve. She gently pushed away from his chest and twisted in his lap so he could see the injury. “Fuckin’ tree got me. Sliced open by dead fucking wood.”

Cullen’s heart dropped. Blood poured steadily from the wound, it’s only blockage an array of dirt and pebbles stuck to the surrounding area. Tearing the sash from his waist, he gently lifted her leg to begin wrapping it tightly around her thigh. With every sweep of his hand between her legs, Leoric tensed and her cheeks warmed. Cullen pushed back the excited thoughts that leapt forward with each brush of his fingers across her thigh. Maker have mercy, what is wrong with me? Here he was, patching up the woman he had grown to love, the woman he feared he might have lost for good, and somehow he could not let go of the softness of her thighs despite the strength he knew was there. The pair breathed a sigh of relief as the sash was finally tied off and Cullen stood to retrieve the meager supplies he kept in his saddle.

Leoric couldn’t believe herself. First, she blows up in the war council. Then she fell off her horse in front of the infuriatingly handsome commander and had to be patched up. And now! Now, she wondered what it might be like if said commander’s hand had lingered on her thighs a bit longer or touched her in a whole host of other places. She had a bit of an idea from his pat down, when his fingertips danced along her torso and she couldn’t help but flinch at his touch. He was gentle as he tested for broken bones and bruises, and that gentle touch sent shivers down her spine. She wanted more, and it was terrifying. Cullen had already rejected her back at Haven. He saw a dwarf when he looked at her, and she knew the human blood she did carry would never be enough. She had moved on, mostly, enough to consider him as much of a friend as her subordinate could be. He trusted her as a friend and leader, and she wouldn’t betray that trust.

Cullen returned to her side, medicine kit in hand. He knelt down and passed it to her gingerly, all too aware of the shameful heat rising in his cheeks. Leoric refused to make eye contact, muttering a quick “thank you” as she opened the kit. The tools inside were rudimentary, a needle and spool of gossamer thread, a small flask of fire whiskey, bandages, and shears. She lay down on her side, propped up on an elbow, trying to find a comfortable position to stitch herself up.

“Here,” Cullen murmured, removing his cloak and mantle to prop her up on. “I, um, well, I -can help. With the stitches, I mean. Patched up more than a few soldiers in the field before, and with a mortality rate of only 80 percent.” He laughed weakly at the joke, kicking himself internally. Leoric raised an eyebrow at him and began to laugh, softly at first and then louder until there was almost an edge to it. She calmed herself down and wiped a grimy tear from her eye. She took a long swig from the flask before she sighed in resignation.

“Help yourself, Commander,” her tone was teasing. After the day she had, Leoric didn’t have it in her to give a fuck anymore. This may as well happen now. “Try not to kill me in the process.”

Cullen chucked nervously and tried to force his background thoughts into submission as he began working. The sash had done its job, thank the Maker, and the bleeding had slowed considerably. He wouldn’t have to cauterize the wound after all. He gently picked off any of the larger stones still crusted at the edges, rinsing the rest off with his water skin. Leoric’s brain began to stutter when he slowly removed his belt, chastising herself again when he told her to bite down on it. She did so just in time for Cullen to rinse the gash with whiskey and quickly set to work on the stitches. He worked with care, deft and quick hands guiding the flesh back into place with each tug of the thread, but Leoric still wished he would hurry up and be done. The pain had long since replaced any distractions of pleasure, and she was ready to go home and be done with this awful, humiliating day.

Once she was all patched up, Cullen helped her to stand, catching her when she almost collapsed from dizziness.

“You’ve lost a good bit of blood,” he comforted. “It’ll be safest if you ride back with me. The mare wasn’t injured; she can follow.” Leoric nodded, long past caring about appearances at this point. She let Cullen lift her into the saddle, feeling his familiar warmth against her as he climbed up behind her. His sturdy arms held her up, and she couldn’t help but sink back into him, utterly exhausted.

“Thank you, Cullen,” Leoric broke the comfortable silence as they rode back to the stronghold. “For everything today. I’ve been a complete ass, and you helped me anyway. I’m sorry too. Skyhold shouldn’t see me weak like this. How inspiring is an Inquisitor who falls from her horse and has to be carried back home?”

Cullen took the reins in one hand and held her tighter to him with the other. “You were right, though. We’ve all treated you like just a symbol of Andraste, and idea of a hero. I mean, that’s not to say...” He sighed. “You, Leoric, are very much a hero in your own right. Whether you’re blessed by Andraste or not, it is still you closing the rifts, securing alliances, and fighting against Corypheus. History may not remember Leoric, but I certainly will. I’m sorry, for not realizing sooner how we were making you feel.” His voice softened. “How I was making you feel. Leoric, you are amazing, witty and funny, smart and compassionate. You deserve to be happy, content, wherever that path may take you.”

Leoric did not reply, already lulled to sleep by the gentle rhythm of the horse and Cullen’s warm embrace.

“I may serve the Inquisitor, but it’s Leoric I care for, and that won’t change,” he murmured.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #cullen rutherford #cullen x inquisitor #cullen x cadash #dragon age fanfiction #cadash is half-dwarven #of all the characters to get brainrot about #why is it the blonde cop #im jewish #blonde cops and jews don't generally get along #dragon age veilguard #dragon age the veilguard

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