#dai companions react

[densewentz]

Look, the final acts of the dragon age games are the big boys, the angry and exhausted turns to Red, the 'fuck you, ive had enough' hours. Act 3 in da2, Trespasser in dai- they're so cathartic in that you can finally drop the sarcasm and the optimism and the desperation to hold it together and just go tf off. absolute ragers.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

Are there any companions you can't stand?

I wouldn't say I have any that I can't stand. Something that's so engaging to me about DA is that the companions have good, bad, and a lot in between. Honestly, I don't hate any of them. There are companions that I have more issues with than others, but I like them all; even, and sometimes especially, the ones that tend to be heavily hated on by the fandom.

The only companion that might fall into this category for me is Sebastian, but I totally acknowledge that I've yet to make an effort to use him when I play DA2. I legit just forget about him. How am I supposed to have a good grasp of his character when I don't engage with him outside of his companion quests? Plus I usually romance Anders so Sebastian always leaves my party in the end with threats of bringing an army down on Kirkwall for not killing Anders, soooo... yeah. Not the greatest impression he's left me with.

I would like to have a more well-rounded opinion of Sebastian because the concept of him is interesting; he's this chantry brother who is also a prince, but his family was murdered so he puts up a bounty on the chantry board [which admittedly is SO funny] and his companion quests are about avenging his family and helping him decide if he should take back his lands or remain a chantry brother. But then I talk to him, I listen to him talk to the other companions, and it's like... oh, the chantry has become his entire personality because the dude was brainwashed and now he's saying shit like the maker was actually the one who freed Fenris from slavery, and when Fenris tells him a story about how Denarius killed a child in a ritual for more power, Sebastian just doubles down that the maker has his reasons, like....babe, c'mon now.

I feel like I've read pieces about him written by fans who love him that are more compellingly written than he is, if that makes sense. Really, I would love to be educated by those who love him, especially Sebastian romancers because of all the love interests in all of DA, he's the one I look at and go, "....okay but why?" I have a lot of fun with character discussions and other perspectives so I mean that sincerely.

Also I think it's worth noting that when I play, I tend to get super into the roleplay of my warden/hawke/inquisitor, but while they have party members they can't stand, I have opinions that are separate from them, y'know?

For example, since I've talked about it a lot recently, my mage Hawke and Aveline butt heads constantly. By the end of Act 3, they're rivalry is heated and Ed's surprised Aveline even sided with him in the end because THAT is how much their relationship deteriorated over the course of the game... but then there's my warrior Hawke who adored Aveline. The two of them were best friends and Aris always gave her the benefit of the doubt, like she had Aveline's back through and through.

I've complained about Aveline a lot in my posts so it probably does sound like I can't stand her, but that's not true. Aveline's actually a companion that fascinates me, like she makes me go, "God, you're such an asshole, tell me more right now." and it drives me crazy how she and Carver are foils, like I love it so much, I could go on and on about how foiled they are, it makes me want to bite something.

It's very easy to look at Aveline and think she's just a bitch, she's a cop, she's a bad character, #Aveline-critical, bad companion, etc. I see it all the time, and not just with her, but with every companion in dragon age, y'know? I'm not saying that's wrong or anything; some characters just don't vibe with you or you have legit reasons for hating them and that's fine. I'm just saying some of it's very surface level unless you make the effort to elaborate.

If you don't like a character, you're less likely to make an effort to understand or see anything positive about them. You're more likely to have confirmation bias, so whenever they do or say anything, you go looking for the worst interpretation. I try not to do this just because for me, that's the "boring" approach to games like this but as we've seen, I'm not immune either... y'know, Sebastian.

But Carver gets this a lot, too, and I think I've made myself clear that Carver is my favorite, I love him, the Hawke twins are S-tier companions and I would throw everyone in Kirkwall into the ocean if it meant Bethany and Carver's happiness.

Now that I'm thinking about it, the characters a lot of fans can't stand are some of my favorites?

Like a lot of people shit on Sera, and I'm like "Nah, that's my girl! Listen, she's got a LOT of internalized issues, but we're working through them okay! She's getting better!"

And Vivienne? Oh, don't get me started on Vivienne, I have a whole deal about her. She's also an asshole and I love her.

My canon inquisitor is Surana who escaped the circle and joined the dalish, becoming Lavellan. Vivienne is a reflection of what Ash could've been if she hadn't run away with Jowan. She played the game of the circle, she stepped wherever she needed to step because Ash knew she was at a disadvantage by being an elf, for one, and for two, not coming from a family with wealth that would give her special privileges. Her downfall was buying into her own hype and believing she couldn't be wrong about Jowan, believing that she could either prevent them from making him tranquil or help him and Lily run away, and believing she was above punishment because she worked her way into being Irving's favorite. Yet it all bit her in the ass and she had to run… so then years later after living outside of the circle and realizing just what the chantry is, how it conditions and abuses mages and shit, she meets Vivienne who also played the game well and came out on top, who now spouts the same shit Ash used to spout and it's makes their dynamic sooo chewable.

Then there's Cullen who's not a companion but I lump him and Josephine in with the companions anyway. They're advisors, they're in the inner circle, they count.

He's such a spineless ass in DA2 like believe me, I get all the criticisms he gets... but he's also fairly polite to Hawke even if they're openly anti-templar, he's softer spoken, and he's unwell after what happened to him in DAO and Meredith's clearly taking advantage of his state... but then he becomes an advisor in DAI who is so done with people's bullshit and blatantly honest about it, like he looks at Chancellor Roderick like "this fucking guy again" and he's so ready to just go for it, y'know? Well... unless you're a pretty lady who bats her eyes at him, then suddenly he doesn't know how words work. Like sometimes I feel crazy because I find him to be so funny in DAI, and overall a compelling character that I enjoy interacting with even when he's being a total asshole. Yeah, there's issues in his writing but I appreciate the vision the writers were going for, even if they stumbled... except for Sheryl Chee, I don't appreciate her contribution of those few posts on the DA forums that everyone uses as a smoking gun to "prove" awful things about him. Nothing gets under my skin more in character discussions than bad faith arguments and there's so much of that when it comes to Cullen.

Actually, while we're on that, can I just add a note that when I first got into this fandom, I saw someone's post about Chee doing an interview where she said all those bad things about Cullen wanting to assault the mage warden and I was like, "What? An interview? What interview?? Where??" and I couldn't find shit until much later when I read another anti-Cullen post that cited a DA forum as the source for her saying those things... so not an interview. I went digging for the forum, went into the way back machine to find it.... only to discover that this smoking gun comes from a fanfiction forum where Mary Kirby was also talking about Sten and catgirls and y'all expect me to take that seriously?

We can have discussions about whether or not Cullen's a bad person or a bad character, but the moment you bring Sheryl Chee into it, I know you're here in bad faith and your argument is void.

Sorry for the tangent and the long answer but this is the stuff I enjoy. I could talk about the characters of DA for ages unprompted that when someone does throw me a bone, I will discuss and gush about them all.

[fallout-friends-react]

Please write New Vegas companions react to the courier sitting in their lap :)

Arcade: Arcade sighed heavily. It's been yet another long day helping the followers. Feeling tired, he sat on the nearest bench he could find, and leaned his head back so he could look at the sky absentmindedly. With no warning, the Courier sat on his lap, making him jump from surprise. "W-what are you doing?!?!?! There are other places to sit???" The Courier just laughed and said this spot looked the most comfortable. Arcade adjusted his glasses, "I-uh- you.." He stuttered, clearly embarrassed. "Surely there's somewhere better for you to sit." The Courier laughed again and finally got up to sit next to him instead. Arcade couldn't think of anything to say, he rested his face in his hands to hopefully hide his red face. It didn't help much.

Boone: Boone had been keeping watch while the Courier relaxed. They watched him watch the horizon for any signs of danger. He looked bored. The Courier got up and called Boone, "Hey come sit, I'll take next watch." Boone got up without a word, listening to their command. He took a seat on their previously occupied chair. Without even bothering to go keep watch, the Courier immediately sat on his lap. They just wanted to see how he'd react. Blank. Nothing. "I thought you were going to keep watch." The Courier huffed and got up. With crossed arms, they went to do as they had promised. The Courier didn't know it because of his sunglasses, but Boone had a hard time looking them in the eye.

Ed-E: He has no lap with which to sit.

Lily: The Courier was clearly exhausted, and Lily could tell. Without thinking it through, Lily found the closest and sturdiest wall and leaned against it. She assumed a wall sit position, making the Courier confused. "Sit for a bit. I can't let my own grandchild be so tired." The Courier couldn't believe their eyes. There's no way they could sit on her lap while she's doing a WALL SIT, no one could handle all their weight while doing that. Or so they thought. The Courier noticed Lily's bulging thigh muscles. She is a nightkin after all, she's stronger than any normal human. The Courier shrugged and took a seat. Her lap was much more comfortable than expected.

Raul: The Courier and Raul had taken a trip to the NCR embassy to visit some captain for some kind of mission. Raul didn't really listen to the details so he didn't actually know the reason for their visit. The embassy was particularly busy this day, so they were told to wait for the captain to be available. The lobby was busy enough that there were almost no seats, save for one. Raul sat down without really thinking about it. The Courier awkwardly stood in front of him. "I'd offer you my seat, but I think elders get dibs." He chuckled. The Courier just smiled in response. Raul thought for a moment, probably they wanted to sit too, god only knows how long the NCR will take. "Hey boss," he gestured to his lap, "take a seat." The waved him off, surely he wasn't serious. "No really, come on." He patted his lap. The Courier hesitantly took a seat. The two stayed silent for a couple minutes. Raul interrupted the silence by tapping on their arm, "yeah I don't think my old bones can take this. Let's try switching spots" They got some stares from other embassy patrons, but neither of them really minded.

Rex: You literally cannot sit in a dog's lap.

Cass: Both Cass and the Courier had been complaining about how tired they were from walking. Almost to see who could one-up the other on how tired they were. They happened upon a building with a missing side, but at least it still had a roof. One chair occupied the corner of what looked like a kitchen. Cass used whatever energy she had left to run to the chair and take it for herself. "HA. I got here first." She smirked at them smugly. The Courier crossed their arms and looked at her annoyed. Just as Cass rested her arms by her sides to really relax her muscles, the Courier quickly took a seat on her lap. Cass shot them a dirty look. "Oh I'm sorry was this seat taken?" The Courier reflected her smirk from before. "Uh, yeah, I'd rather take the floor if you're gonna keep this up." Cass was too tired to put up much of a fight.

Veronica: Veronica and the Courier had stopped into the first bar they could find. They were both exhausted from walking for nearly the entire day. The bar was way more crowded than either had expected. Almost every seat was taken. Veronica spotted the singular vacant chair in the corner of the room and quickly claimed it as her own. The Courier stood next to her, leaning on the wall. She could tell just how tired they were and knew their feet must have been aching. "Hey," getting the Courier's attention, she patted her lap, to signal they should take a seat. "You sure?" The Courier asked, just to be sure she was okay with it. "I insist!" She looked at them with a smile. They took a seat and were instantly relieved. Veronica invited them to take a seat herself, but she didn't expect it to be so embarrassing. She blushed slightly, and couldn't look at them the entire time they were on her lap.

Vulpes: Having finally set up camp for the night, Vulpes's guard was down. As down as it could be anyway. Sitting on a log near the campfire, he closed his eyes to relax for just a moment. The Courier saw their chance and quickly made their move to spontaneously sit on his lap. Vulpes quickly opened his eyes at the sudden weight on his lap. He lifted his arms so as to not touch them, "Um.. Is there something I can help you with?" He didn't seem as amused as the Courier had hoped for. They quickly got off his lap, feeling a little embarrassed.

[dacompanionreactions]

Hello! Love your blog! I had a kind of a silly/fun reaction. How would the DA:I companions and advisors react to a playful Inquisitor sneaking up behind them and giving them a quick tickle attack? 😊

I guess this is mostly under the assumption that they are all close w/the Inquisitor, and comfortable with sudden physical contact. Enjoy!

Cassandra yelps, a high pitched squeak that has her clapping her hands to her mouth with a horrified expression, utterly mortified at the sound she just made. She blushes furiously, but she's not going to stoop to the Inquisitor's level of childishness and return the tickle attack. She will rise above. Forget this affront to her reputation. Or so she would have the Inquisitor think... for a good tactician never reveals their cards, and always has a plan of (tickle) attack.

Varric laughs. He laughs and laughs and laughs until tears stream from his eyes and his stomach hurts. For him, it really dispells the notion of the Inquisitor being this large figure at the front of a huge military force. It's utterly ridiculous, and definitely not the intended effect the Inquisitor wanted on him.

Solas is taken off guard. He's seen and done it all, so it takes something truly special to leave him stunned. Something like a tickle attack. He stands there in a horrific, drawn out silence after the Inquisitor's attempt to tickle him, trying to process what just happened. Solas spends the next thirty seconds resembling a dumbstruck fish. He hastily closes his mouth and reaches a tense agreement with the Inquisitor to never speak of this again.

Oh, the indignity. Dorian is actually appalled at the noise he makes, which is something between a giggle and a squeak, and turns swiftly on the Inquisitor with (playful) murder in his eyes. He's not afraid to get his hands dirty, oh no, and so he rolls his sleeves up and prepares himself for an all out tickle war. Naturally, the Tevene in him begs him not to stoop so low. His pride, on the other hand, begs him to take revenge.

Sera screams bloody murder. Good luck hiding from her, for the Inquisitor chose the wrong person to start a tickle fight with. This girl is ruthless. She'll hide in the rafters and swoop down upon the Inquisitor when they least expect it. Throw in a few lobbed pies and that'll make the experience downright messy. Never mind playful, she's starting a war.

Blackwall is really ticklish, and ticklish everywhere. He can sense someone creeping about and probably assumes the worst. To be tickled instead of receiving a knife in the back is an odd kind of relief. To him, it helps to maintain a sense of normalcy. Yes, the world has gone mad, but people can still have tickle fights and laugh like children. Normalcy is the best kind of revenge.

Cole isn't ticklish. Still, he understands the concept. It's likely that he'd ask the Inquisitor why they felt the need to try and ambush him like that. He gets that they're trying to be playful and get him to laugh, but there are easier ways to do it!

The Iron Bull is not ticklish. He's not, so don't bother even trying. Except he's totally lying. Ask Krem and he'd say, "The boss is ticklish behind the ears. Don't ask how I know." He'd probably bark out a laugh, then full on lose it at the attempt to tickle him. Though he'd likely not retaliate unless he knew for sure the Inquisitor is comfortable with unexpected physical contact.

Vivienne isn't actually ticklish. Unlike Bull, when she says it, she means it. Any attempt to tickle her will be met with extreme retribution. Messing with the Iron Lady means snowballs flung at high speeds into the back of the Inquisitor's head when they least expect it. Vivienne is all smiles, icy and sharp, and when confronted all she has to say is, "What ever do you mean, my dear?"

He'd have to be really close to the Inquisitor for Cullen to be even slightly comfortable with that sudden movement. His knee-jerk reaction would be to panic. He'd also probably try to defend himself or physically remove himself from the situation. If he is comfortable, well, this man grew up with siblings. He's gonna tickle the Inquisitor right back, maybe even give into childish impulse and full body slam them into the floor... and apologise profusely after. And fix his hair.

Leliana sees it coming from a mile away. She'd turn swiftly and catch the Inquisitor's wrists in her hands, then offer them a knowing smile that simultaneously warms and terrifies. "I wish you luck for your next attempt." Is that a threat or a challenge? You decide.

Josephine would yelp with surprise, then erupt into giggles despite herself. She feels just like a young girl again, having tickle fights with Yvette until her tutors reprimanded her for terribly unlady-like behaviour. Josie would never in a million years dream of actually retaliating, but she sure thinks about it. A lot.

[nightingaelic]

Since I’ve seen you also do fallout 4 Reacts, how about this, romanced fallout 4 companions react to synth Shaun calling the mom/dad

They had known, going into this thing they shared with Vault 111's sole survivor, that the road to a happy ending wasn't going to be easy. Love was already hard enough to navigate, even without the person on the receiving end being a pre-war relic, a figurehead of the Commonwealth, and number one most wanted on multiple factions' bounty lists. Those moments of peace they managed to snatch were fleeting, but they teased of greater things, and when their fingers and the sole survivor's intertwined atop the roof of Mass Fusion as the Institute crumbled into the Charles River below, they selfishly wondered if this meant a newfound freedom for their relationship.

Then came Shaun. Pure, naive, starry-eyed Shaun, who looked up at the sole survivor with the sweetest smile and gifted them the saddest holotape, who held out his arms for one person only and folded inward if left with anyone else. He confounded everyone, not just the sole survivor's chosen partner, but it didn't matter. His remaining parent held him close during the darkest hours, told him stories and sang him lullabies until he stopped shaking and slept. It was on one of these late nights that the sole survivor's companion resolved to do right by both of them, no matter what it took, and pressed a gentle kiss into the crown of the sleeping boy's head.

Cait: "You envy him," the sole survivor said quietly the next morning as they watched Shaun skip ahead on the road to Diamond City.

Cait swallowed. "I do," she admitted. "I've told you what my own parents were like. When I look at you, I can't help but notice every last little thing they didn't do. Everything you are doing, with him. He's damn lucky, and he doesn't even know it. Then there's me, and kids... All the ones I spent time around were just as broken as I was, older souls than they deserved to be. He won't ever know that kind of fear, and I'm fucking glad of it, but it also means I can't talk to him."

"Well, you have to start somewhere. But I get it." The sole survivor pulled her in by the waist and kissed her. "I love you, Cait. I can't tell you not to feel sad about the way things worked out- just don't take it out on him. He's been through a lot, too."

Cait rolled her eyes when they weren't looking, certain that she was always going to be the distant, red-headed stepmother to Shaun's actual parent, but her moment came sooner than expected. Batty old Moe Cronin was still hawking his baseball gear in Diamond City's town square, beckoning to anyone who wandered too close. "Swatters, right here!" he called as the sole survivor and their little family passed by, clearly aware that Shaun had perked up his ears. "Don't let down the home team! Why, even kids will appreciate a swatter in their hands, when they're traveling the Commonwealth!"

"No thanks, Moe," the sole survivor said, waving the salesman off. "He's still a little young for that kind of sport."

"I disagree," Cait cut in, putting a defiant hand on her hip. "Best to start him young, else he won't know what he's doing until it's too late."

Shaun looked between his two guardians. "Please?" he begged the sole survivor. "Mom's okay with it."

Cait could've melted, right then and there in the marketplace. Before the sole survivor had a chance to answer, she'd turned back to Moe, fumbling for her caps. "That one," she said, pointed at a lighter model splashed with indigo paint. "Seems about the right size."

Moe took it down from his display wall and presented it to the boy. "A genuine model, there. Perfect for a first-time owner. You take good care of her, kid."

Cait pulled the boy close to her hip and ruffled his hair. "He'd better. I was planning on using those caps to buy us Power Noodles."

Shaun smiled and closed his eyes as he hugged the baseball bat close. "Thanks, mom."

Curie: Although her educational modules had only been installed for the purpose of making her a better laboratory assistant in Vault 81, Curie still had the full knowledge repository of a Miss Nanny robot to draw upon stored up in her new synthetic brain. Caring for a 10-year-old boy meant following clear developmental guidelines and standards, and she set about writing a rough curriculum for him so as to give him some semblance of schooling while he wandered the Commonwealth with his guardians.

To her delight, Curie found Shaun to be especially receptive to her lessons. He was very interested in biology and history, perhaps because of the obvious blind spots that came with spending his early life inside the Institute. He wanted to know everything there was to know about the mutated creatures that walked the wasteland, coloring in the pictures of radstags and deathclaws and bloatflies alike in Curie's battered notebook as she sketched them. For history, though, Curie had to turn to those around her. The most recent history of the Commonwealth could be found with the sole survivor, who had spent most of their post-vault life at the center of it. Further accounts came from Preston Garvey thanks to his experience with the Minutemen, and Piper Wright and Nick Valentine had quite a bit more in their extensive periodical and case records. Even Paladin Danse pitched in, offering a rather thorough recollection of the Brotherhood of Steel's history on both coasts of North America and in between that left Shaun playing at being a Scribe for over a week.

Shaun's best subject, though, was language. He had an adequate grasp of English, but he began to press Curie early on to teach him French. She added it in between her other lessons, until they could carry on basic conversations. "Pourquoi vouliez-vous apprendre le français?" Curie asked him one day when it was just the two of them, curious. "Oui, ç'est une belle langue, but it is not especially common in the Commonwealth."

Shaun smiled. "Parce que ça nous appartient, maman."

"Maman?" Curie smiled back. "I did not teach you that word."

"You did," Shaun insisted, crawling into her lap to hug her. "Oui, maman, you did."

Curie ended the lesson early and gave him her pencil and notebook to draw pictures in. When the sole survivor returned that evening from their trade excursion, she presented them with the piece of art he had made, depicting the three travelers locked in battle with a mirelurk queen. The sole survivor looked over it with a smile, ran a thumb over the words he'd scribbled next to Curie's blazing laser rifle. "'Ma maman,'" they read with a grin, drawing her into a one-armed hug. "Congratulations, mom."

Paladin Danse: "I'm a liability to you," Danse argued with the sole survivor the next day, as they packed their things to hit the road again. "To both of you. You know what will happen if a Brotherhood patrol recognizes me."

"So wear this." The sole survivor tossed him a ratty shawl and a red bandanna. "Cover your face. Plenty of people do, in these parts."

"And if they recognize my voice?" Dance argued. "Only the greenest Initiates would be fooled by a disguise this thin."

"You're giving the Brotherhood too much credit." The sole survivor straightened up from organizing their pack. "Just let me do the talking and try not to worry."

"Easier said than done," Danse grumbled, picking up their wasteland fashion offerings with obvious distaste.

They were ready to go by noon, the sole survivor's pack slung over their shoulder and Shaun's hand firmly grasped in theirs. Danse brought up the rear as they crossed the bridge out of Sanctuary, and he tugged the bandanna around his neck up to cover his face once they reached the other side of the river.

When Shaun next turned back, distracted by some dry branches creaking together overhead, he giggled in surprise. "Why are you wearing that?" he asked, pointing to the bandanna.

"It's not safe," Danse grunted, lowering his laser rifle a little.

"But why does that help keep you safe?"

The sole survivor reached down to ruffle their son's hair. "It's a little hard to explain, Shaun. Some people out here don't like Danse. He's trying to hide his face from them, so they don't know it's him."

"But there's no one here," Shaun insisted, throwing his arms out to indicate the barren landscape and its silence.

"Well, you never know," Danse said, taking the bait. "Come here. Look at that tree. That big one, see it? I'd say it's wide enough to hide a man behind it. Maybe even a raider or two, if they're skinny."

"What about that one?" Shaun asked, pointing to a larger tree.

Danse nodded solemnly. "Three raiders. Easily."

He winked at the sole survivor, who was stifling their giggles. Shaun, who was staring open-mouthed at the trees, missed it. "Can I have one too, dad?" the boy asked, tugging Danse's sleeve.

"One of what?" Danse replied, unable to keep his voice from cracking.

"A bandanna." Shaun looked up at him with a smile. "We can hide together."

Danse, lost, looked helplessly to the sole survivor. Without a word, they pulled a navy blue bandanna from their pack and handed it over. Danse knelt down and carefully tied the cloth around Shaun's face. "There you go, soldier," he said when he was finished, and the words felt softer in his mouth than any of the other times he'd said them.

Mayor John Hancock: Though he was brave enough to risk a little affection after the kid was asleep, Hancock gave Shaun plenty of space during the waking hours. He wasn't blind to the way some people looked at him. Most kids stared.

Shaun wasn't any different in that aspect, but the fact that this red-coated, tricorn-bedecked ruin of a man was keeping his parent company proved too much for his curiosity. Once the stage of open-mouthed, morbid fascination had passed, Shaun's face grew more contemplative. He started to watch closely as Hancock did basic things. Eat. Sleep. Tie some cloth over a wound. Brush his teeth. He didn't seem embarrassed when Hancock made it obvious these attentions were noticed by waggling his brows or pulling funny faces in the middle of a meal- he just looked like he was filing the information away in his head. He wasn't immune to Hancock's infectious humor though, and he eventually started to giggle and make faces back. The sole survivor rolled their eyes at the pair of them, but Hancock egged them on until they, too, succumbed to the silliness.

When the trio paid their first visit to Goodneighbor and people on the street began to greet Hancock as "mayor," Shaun's eyes grew as wide as Port-A-Diner saucers. Hancock relished the attention, stopped in at every trading stall and tipped his hat to every vagabond they passed. Though Shaun kept a tight hold of his parent's hand, it was obvious he was a little lost between the attention that the sole survivor and the returning town leader were receiving. Things came to a head when a crowd gathered around the travelers and Shaun's grip on the sole survivor's hand was jostled loose. As would-be admirers moved in and separated them, Shaun's voice was thin and high under the boisterous conversations. "Ha-Han... dad!"

"Whoa." Hancock threw his arms out, pushed the crowd back. "Give us some space, folks. Yeah, you, back up or I'll sic Fahrenheit on you."

Shaun was clinging to his leg, and he relaxed a little as Hancock lifted him up to eye level with the adults. Hancock puffed with the effort. The kid was heavier than he looked. "Now this here," he said, grunting as he re-positioned the boy on his hip, "Is Shaun. He's with me."

"Is he yours, Hancock?" teased Rufus Rubins from somewhere in the crowd.

"As good as," Hancock replied proudly. He looked at Shaun and smiled. "It's okay, kid. I've got you."

When the boy smiled back at him shyly, Hancock plopped his tricorn onto the boy's head. "Ever thought about becoming a deputy mayor?" he asked. "Don't worry. It's a pretty easy job."

Robert Joseph MacCready: More than anything, MacCready wondered if he was being fair. He'd just gotten his own son back, and Duncan's renewed presence in his life was a constant reminder of just how much he'd missed. How long had it been, since he'd left his little boy with friends and trudged north, hoping against hope that he'd find a cure for the illness that wracked his little frame? How many pounds had he put on since he'd sent the miracle medicine home? How many inches had he grown, how many questions had he missed? He couldn't help but marvel at this little boy who was so big now, so much like Lucy and so much like him.

Shaun was older, Shaun was quieter, and Shaun was watching every time MacCready felt the need to pause, staring at his own little creation in awe. He knew it. He started consciously doing the same for Shaun, just so he wouldn't feel left out, and to his surprise, taking the extra time meant he noticed things he initially hadn't. The way he looked warily at the settlements they visited, searching for hiding spots to retreat to. The way his eyes gleamed in the light of his parent's Pip-Boy, entranced by the holotape games they collected. The way his cheeks dimpled when he smiled, the way he pronounced certain words, the way he tied his shoes and drew his letters and grabbed his guardians' hands when he was scared. Yes, Shaun was a miniature sole survivor in countless ways, but there was a little bit of MacCready in the way he approached the wasteland.

MacCready began to mix them up, Duncan and Shaun, and they laughed and corrected him and teased him to no end along with the sole survivor. It only made him smile wider. They were between Bunker Hill and Goodneighbor one day, playing "I spy" as they passed through the ruined city, when Duncan picked a rather obvious target for the guessing game. "I spy with my little eye... something that is... green."

"The water," the sole survivor guessed, pointing toward the Charles River. Duncan shook his head emphatically.

"It better not be a super mutant," MacCready said, only mildly concerned. The streets had been quiet for their entire trip.

"Dad's hat," Shaun guessed.

The sole survivor and MacCready stopped in their tracks. MacCready's hand went to his cap. Duncan nodded and giggled, and he squirmed with joy when his dad plopped the hat in question onto his head.

MacCready swept Shaun up into his arms. Shaun looked at him, wide-eyed, unused to the overt affection. "What?"

The sniper cocked an eyebrow at him. "Dad?"

"Yeah."

MacCready planted a scratchy kiss on the boy's cheek, reveling in the shriek of surprise it elicited. "Okay," he said with pride. "We do look alike."

"We do not."

Piper Wright: It was a promise that Piper had made once before, after her dad had been murdered and she'd been left the sole caretaker for her little sister. She and Nat had managed to navigate their new roles eventually, eked out a living in Diamond City and grown together as best they could. Piper had settled into something that wasn't quite sisterhood, parenthood, friendship or work partnership, and yet encompassed all of the above. The sole survivor had fit into that life alongside her fairly well, what with their transient inclinations, responsibilities to their associates, and being a lightning rod for Commonwealth intrigue, but Shaun presented a new challenge.

"Diamond City's the best place for him," Piper insisted to the sole survivor any chance she got. They were at Home Plate for now, but the wasteland wanderer had that look in their eye that suggested they were growing restless, unsure of their safety and the safety of their child. "There's a school, there's food, running water and a security force and oodles of people who dote on him just because he's a kid in the wasteland with manners, which is a rarity nowadays."

They always looked at her sadly. "A synth kid, Piper. People will notice eventually."

"So what? Nick's a synth, Diamond City got used to him!"

"We need to go soon, Piper, for his sake. It'll be okay."

"Stay, Blue."

The pair went around in circles like that whenever they got a spare moment, saying it every different way but getting nowhere. They were in the middle of one of these arguments when they were interrupted by Nat and Shaun, who blew into the little house with a gust of wind, rain, and flapping newspaper pages. The two kids had their arms locked at the elbows and were giggling wildly, but they stopped short when they saw the way their respective guardians were talking. "Is everything okay?" Nat asked warily.

"Yeah," Piper answered quickly, hiding her expression by removing her cap to scratch her head. The sole survivor had other ideas, and took this moment as an opportunity. They got down on one knee and took Shaun's hands in theirs. "Shaun, buddy, we need... I need to go on a trip. For a while. Do you want to come with me?"

Shaun's eyes flicked between them and Piper, uncertain. "Are mom and Nat coming, too?" he asked.

Nat's eyes widened and Piper's heart leapt into her throat. The sole survivor choked on their words, and tears welled up in the corners of their eyes. They looked up at Piper, their apology plain on their face. "She- we-"

Piper dove in, wrapped Shaun in a hug and twirled him up in her ratty coat. He laughed, surprised, and the reporter beamed down at him.

When the two had ceased their little dance, Piper turned back to the sole survivor and helped them up off the rug. "Come on, Blue," she said, giving them a kiss on the cheek. "We're being stupid. Let's talk this out like a family. Nat and Shaun deserve to know what's up."

Preston Garvey: Preston had thanked his lucky stars several times over the last few months that the sole survivor had risen to the challenge of becoming General of the Minutemen, but now he found himself continually second-guessing that decision. As they pursued the Institute across the Commonwealth, unearthed horrific truth after horrific truth, he'd grieved their spouse and child with them and thrown himself into the work of rebuilding the Minutemen to help them fill that void of loss. He hadn't expected, at the end of things, that the Institute would leave them something else to help fill the void - and now, looking at Shaun, Preston couldn't help but blame himself for centering the sole survivor and leaving them with responsibilities that got in the way of caring for the boy.

So Preston did what he could. When the General was in talks with traders to negotiate caravan protections at the Castle, he took Shaun walking along the shores of Dorchester Bay, hunting for mirelurk eggs. When the General was away from Sanctuary helping settlements, he tucked Shaun into bed at night and read him stories from a worn book of fables that Sturges had bought off of Trashcan Carla. When the General came home late looking like they'd crawled through a yao guai den on their stomach, he hung up their coat, pushed them into the shower, and made dinner with Codsworth while Shaun supervised and decided whether it needed more salt.

"I don't deserve you," the sole survivor said gratefully each time.

"You do," Preston always reassured them. "You both do."

Shaun was less quick to appreciate Preston's care, but slowly he warmed up to the General's right-hand man. He remembered the best spots for picking raspberries that they found together, he started to request tales about the Minutemen as his bedtime stories, and whenever Codsworth asked him about his day, he would shyly look to Preston before relating their adventures together. It was slow going, but each time the boy looked at his parent's partner, there was less and less hesitancy.

One night after a particularly long day on the road, Preston and Shaun were pinching together some ground mole rat potstickers for soup while the sole survivor washed up. Shaun had a case of the giggles and kept leaving floury fingerprints on his own face, which Preston kept trying and failing to wipe off with a kitchen towel. As Shaun fought off another of these attempts, amidst his happy laughter, he pushed the towel away and shrieked, "Dad, stooooop!"

Preston froze. In the bathroom, something clattered to the floor. Even Codsworth paused chopping vegetables to swivel his eye stalks toward the kitchen table. Shaun made a face. "What?"

Gently, Preston put his thumb over one of the flour spots on Shaun's face and rubbed it away. He tousled the boy's hair and chuckled. "Nothing. Nothing at all. Save the razorgrain flour for the dumplings, buddy, okay?"

Porter Gage: Even compared to everything else in Nuka-World, Porter Gage knew he was the rustiest piece of equipment in the park. Well, everyone in Nuka-World was an antique of some sort, hanging onto a bygone or kitted out in tattered costume from days gone by - hell, the Overboss was practically a pre-war collectible - but Gage felt stiff and dusty, even compared to them. He was old, for a raider. Raiders didn't get old. There was safety in being overlooked because of your age and lack of ambition, but it sure didn't make you interesting to the average kid.

Eventually though, that ability to be overlooked came out in Gage's favor, when it came to Shaun. Shaun was an oddity in the park. Anyone who was stuck firmly to the side of the Overboss was an oddity, but beyond that, Shaun was a kid. Raiders didn't get old, and they definitely didn't have kids if they could help it. Most of the gangs were respectful to the Overboss and their kiddo, but when they'd passed out of earshot, they talked. A liability. A loose end. Not even human, a few of them said.

Gage didn't say anything, but he did listen, and he did tell his partner what the situation was when Shaun was asleep for the night. When they had him pressed against the wall of Fizztop Grille's reception, he spun them ideas about what to do until they told him to shut up or rendered him speechless themselves. Honestly, that told him everything he needed to know. They were at a loss for what to do about the kid, too.

If he'd been a younger man, maybe Gage could've let things play themselves out. But he wasn't, so he took the boy under his wing. He gave him his best knife and his second-best pistol and taught him how to use both on the prop cutouts in Dry Rock Gulch. He taught him how to move silently through the overgrowth of Safari Adventure. He taught him the best places to check for supplies in abandoned towns, on one particularly memorable afternoon in Bradberton, when Shaun shot his first feral and only cried for a little bit afterward.

"It's alright, kid," Gage reassured him, rubbing his shoulder while Shaun tried to calm his hiccups. "They don't know themselves anymore. There's no going back. You did him a kindness."

"Doesn't feel like it," Shaun sniffled.

Suddenly, the boy turned into Gage's shoulder, hugged him awkwardly around the metal mess of his armor. "I'm not any good at this like you, dad. I'm sorry."

Gage closed his eyes for a moment. Against his better judgment, he unbuckled his armor, put his arm around Shaun and pulled him into his chest. "No one's good at first, kiddo. But I'll be here until you are. Promise."

BONUS!

Deacon: Though Deacon would never admit it, Shaun terrified Deacon. He'd wanted a kid at some point, obviously, but that version of himself seemed so far removed from who he was now. Different place, different face, different circumstances and perspectives. He wasn't sure he could go back to that mindset now.

Much like the sole survivor though, he didn't have a choice. Shaun was here, curiously peeking at the papers on Desdemona's workstation and getting shooed out of Carrington's clinic. At least Tinker Tom was self-aware enough to tone down his swearing and more dangerous experimentation, but Deacon and the sole survivor agreed that the sooner Shaun got out of HQ, the better.

"They're all intimidated by you," Deacon whispered conspiratorially to Shaun on the day they finally packed up their things. "You're the best Railroad agent here, and they all know it."

"Really?" Shaun whispered back. "I thought you were the best Railroad agent here."

"It goes you, me, Desdemona, then your parent," Deacon counted off on his fingers. He shouldered the pack Shaun had stuffed to the brim and groaned. "Oof, you've got a lot of stuff already. That's how I know you're the best agent. You're already hanging onto supplies in case of the worst. Smart."

The sole survivor pulled Shaun into a half-hug, caressing his head. "I still rank under Desdemona, huh?"

Deacon winked. "You're getting there. Come on, we'll go out the back door."

Once the three emerged, blinking, into the North End, Shaun took one of the sole survivor's hands and one of Deacon's. "Where are we going?" he asked.

The sole survivor squinted at the buildings around them. "North," they answered vaguely.

"To a deathclaw farm," Deacon said solemnly. "Where they hatch the little lizards and teach them how to be big, ferocious beasts."

"Deacon."

"Sorry. Just a rad chicken farm that's helped us out once or twice."

Shaun looked up at Deacon. "Are deathclaw farms real, dad?"

Deacon choked on his witty response and fell into a coughing fit. The sole survivor looked shocked too, but a smile came over their face and they slapped him on the back a few times until his lungs quieted down.

"Uh, eh-heh, no, buddy," Deacon answered, gripping the boy's hand a little more firmly. "But you know what they say: Be the change you want to see in the world. If you want to go all-in on deathclaw farming, I'm right there with you."

Desdemona: Every day after that, Desdemona expected to wake up and find the sole survivor and their son gone. She couldn't leave HQ now, what with the post-Institute clean-up filling all their safehouses and gumming up the usual escape routes, and PAM changing her mind every minute about what predictions were most likely. All of that combined with the general atmosphere of uncertainty around the Railroad's future - what does the Railroad do, when all of the synths that can be rescued have been rescued? - kept her to-do list full and her mind racing. In the past, her busy periods were an invitation for her unlikely partner to depart on their own adventures, check in with things around the Commonwealth that didn't immediately concern the Railroad, and she fully anticipated this from them now that they had a child to care for, too.

But Shaun and the sole survivor stayed. Deacon's finest recruit rolled up their sleeves and joined her at the war table, read her notes back to her and pointed out strategic opportunities, discrepancies, details she might have overlooked. Desdemona was surprised by how well they managed to mesh with her style of leadership. In the past, anyone who had tried to butt in on her planning usually wound up clashing with her, prioritizing in different ways or misunderstanding critical operations they just didn't know the ins and outs of. Somehow, the sole survivor avoided all of these pitfalls and slid right into the fray next to her.

Shaun was less helpful than his parent, prone to doodling on less-important papers and humming along with the songs on Diamond City Radio, but his quiet presence was company enough. While the sole survivor was still catching up on the sleep they'd lost burying the Institute, Shaun seemed content to remain at Desdemona's side late into the night, watching her work.

It was on one of these late evenings, after all of the agents except the night watch had gone to bed, that Shaun let out a yawn as wide as the Charles River and blinked sleepily up at the Railroad leader. "Mom, I'm tired."

Desdemona paused her dead drop status review and looked down at him with a surprised smile. "I've got to stay up, Shaun. This is important."

"But I'm tired."

"Okay." Desdemona put her pencil down and picked him up. He was heavy, but not so heavy that she wasn't able to carry him to the cots in the back and deposit him gently next to the sole survivor. The movement was enough to wake them, and they pulled the boy in close and wrapped him in some of their blanket. Desdemona tucked them in and went back to the glow of the lanterns with the sound of Shaun's words ringing in her ears.

Elder Arthur Maxson: The Squires on the Prydwen tried to adopt the new boy into their number, of course, but to the sole survivor's dismay, Shaun's odd remarks about "life on the surface" soon labeled him as an outcast. The boy turned even further inward, befriending an odd group of individuals: Scribe Haylen, Paladin Brandis, Senior Scribe Neriah, Emmett the cat. All of them were kind and patient with Shaun, but none of them were exactly peers.

"I don't suppose you could order the Squires to be nicer to him," the sole survivor remarked with a hint of bitterness during one of their visits to the Elder's quarters.

"Let him find his own way," Maxson replied kindly. "If I interfere, they will only resent him for it."

It felt harsher when he said it out loud, but the sole survivor respected his judgment. Still, Maxson couldn't help but recall his own difficult childhood spent searching for friendship, for anyone who might see him as a person instead of a future Elder. When he next had free time, he visited Proctor Quinlan's library of holotapes and came away with a stack of games and transcribed books.

Later that evening, the sole survivor walked into their quarters to find Maxson and Shaun on the bed with their Pip-Boy, Maxson cheering the boy on as he navigated his band of adventurers through a dungeon level in Grognak & the Ruby Ruins. "Go left," Maxson urged. "There's a treasure chest down that hallway."

"How do you know?" Shaun asked, screwing his mouth up in concentration as he input the commands.

"I've been playing this game since before you were alive. See, in the corner over there."

The sole survivor joined them on the bed. "Watch out for goblins."

"Oh, dad showed me how to fight them off already."

Maxson stiffened, and looked quickly over Shaun's head at the sole survivor. Their eyes widened meaningfully, and they tilted their head down toward their son. "Did he show you the goblin village yet?"

Shaun looked up at Maxson. "There's a goblin village?"

"There... there is." Maxson swallowed his misgivings for the moment and directed his attention back to the game. He put an arm around the boy and tilted the Pip-Boy so he could see a little better. "Let's get through this dungeon together first."

Nick Valentine: To Nick's surprise, Shaun warmed up to him fast. He wasn't put off by his missing parts, his glowing eyes or the occasional whirring noises that emanated from inside his chest cavity like most kids. In fact, he liked to press his ear up to Nick's shirt and listen, trying to figure out what the noise was. "It's like your heartbeat," he always said.

"What's it saying?" Nick would ask. Shaun would imitate whatever noise he was hearing, and they would both laugh.

"He grew up around synths," the sole survivor reminded Nick when they were alone. "Er... well, he's been around synths for as long as he's... you get my meaning."

Nick raised his cup of tea to them. "I do. I'm just so used to kids being wary. It's a nice change of pace. How's he doing in class?"

"Great in science and math, horrible at spelling. He could use some practice that isn't just me peering over his shoulder, you know how he hates doing schoolwork if he can't relate it to the real world. Is there any way you could...?"

Nick held up his metal hand. "You don't even need to ask. I'll get him to help Ellie take notes on some cases."

The sole survivor smiled. "How's Ellie's spelling?"

"Impeccable."

A few days later, the little family was ensconced in Nick's office with Ellie poring over a case that had come in from Vault 81 about a missing person. Ellie had given Shaun his own clipboard and pencil, and the pair were scribbling furiously while Nick went over everything that had been written in the letter from the vault's overseer, Gwen McNamara. "Says here that she might have gone to seek her fortune with one of the local caravans," Nick noted. "If she hitched a ride with one, she might have paid them to cover her tracks, but it'd still be worth paying a visit to Bunker Hill to see if they've seen her. Shaun, do you know how to spell 'investigate'?"

"I-N-V-E-S-T-A-G-A-T-E," Shaun answered confidently.

"It's 'I' after T, not 'A'," Ellie corrected him.

"Oh." Shaun deflated a bit. "Sorry, dad."

Ellie dropped her pencil and the sole survivor choked on the Nuka-Cola they were drinking. Nick lowered the letter, perplexed, but when he caught the shy look on Shaun's face, he couldn't contain a grin of pride. "It's okay, son," he said. "We'll keep practicing together, okay? We've got nothing but time."

Old Longfellow: "The island's no place for a child," Longfellow told the sole survivor when they first brought the boy to the docks of Far Harbor.

"You wanted one, once," they had retorted, grabbing him by the lapels of his coat and planting a kiss on his bearded face. "Were you planning to leave, once you'd had the baby?"

"That was different. Wasn't as bad then as it is now."

"Take us back to your cabin on your sand bar, old man. Shaun and I are survivors. And if it gets worse, we'll get on my boat and go back to the Commonwealth."

So Old Longfellow rowed them home to his shack under the pines, and he double- and triple-checked the fog condensers he'd bought off the scientists at Acadia. Shaun followed him around, taking in the little island's woods, beach, and craggy landscape with a pair of eyes wider than a mirelurk's shell. This relationship continued for well over a month: Daily excursions to check the traps and mechanical equipment that kept them all from dying, weekly trips into town to trade and stock up, and the occasional trudge down to the beach to see if anything interesting had washed up. Sometimes the sole survivor remained behind, skinning a radstag or shucking oysters, leaving the old man and the boy to their daily chores outside in the chilling sea breeze. On one of these occasions, Longfellow was making his way toward the wood pile he'd been stocking up and didn't realize that Shaun wasn't right behind him as usual. He might never have noticed, if he hadn't caught the quiet word on the wind at his back: "Dad."

Longfellow spun and found Shaun frozen, staring at the edge of the woods. Staring back was a radstag, glowing faintly from internal radiation, with only one head and pair of antlers.

It was a ways off, but Longfellow still moved to grab the boy and pull him out of harm's way. The movement startled the creature and it huffed before alighting into the trees, its tail flying a warning as it bounded off. Longfellow pulled Shaun close and sighed, trying to catch his breath again. "Stay close, boy."

"They all used to look like that," Shaun replied softly, watching the deer's retreat. "I never thought I'd see one without two."

"Rare as hen's teeth," Longfellow agreed. "Must be our lucky day."

X6-88: X6-88 knew that technically, his role with the director was a protection assignment, but excursions to the surface and a growing trust between them had blossomed into something else. He also knew that technically, Shaun was an assignment too, one that Father had bestowed upon the sole survivor just before his death. In the safety of their Institute quarters though, they could be something more to each other. They could talk about what it was to be a synth, to live apart from the world at large, and what within their little underground haven could be changed for the betterment of something beyond mankind.

He and the sole survivor were cautious at first to talk about these sorts of things around Shaun, but the synth boy soon proved bright enough to understand the dangers of self in this place, be they realization, expression, or actualization. "It's not fair," Shaun would say at dinner. "I want to become a scientist. I want to grow up. And I can't even talk about it anywhere else."

"We're working on it," the sole survivor always said. "Dr. Li and I have some ideas. You won't always be a child, Shaun."

X6 knew that they were doing their best, but they were hiding the fact that Dr. Li had pushed back on the project multiple times. She'd believed the synth child was a waste of time and effort from the beginning, and extending that effort would take more than just a few ideas from the sole survivor. He knew they would keep trying, but it would never be fast enough for a 10-year-old boy. And every step they took toward that goal would bring the scrutiny of the Directorate, some of whom were eager to find any reason to discredit the brand-new upstart that had passed them up to lead the Institute.

"We should leave," X6 suggested as he lay in bed next to the sole survivor after another night like this. "Before it's too late."

"We can't," they replied in a whisper. "They don't have the tech on the surface to help Shaun, and we have so much we could offer the rest of the world. If we leave, we'll never see this place again."

"It would be difficult, but we would be together."

"Just give me a little more time, X6. Please."

The Courser lay awake long after the director had gone to sleep, trying and failing to come up with a better plan. As such, he was still awake when Shaun stole into bed with them, rubbing tears from his face with his little hands. X6 settled the boy in between himself and the sole survivor and wiped the rest of the tears away with the sheet.

"I had a bad dream, dad," Shaun explained, sniffling. "I've been having them a lot."

X6 didn't have the heart to correct the child. "I know," he said instead. "I've been having them too. Dreams can't hurt you, Shaun. If they try, I'll protect you."

[astralprisms]

You can't take these two anywhere

[imagine-silk]

Josephine, Solas, Dorian pinning after a café barista ☕️🍵

》I'm gonna try to make my stuff look pretty, bear with me.

【Josephine☕️】 Stops by every morning on her walk to work.

She commutes to work on foot to get a little more exercise outside of the gym. That's how she meet you and fell head over heels. In due time of course.

At first it was just passing 'thank you' and 'come again' but the two of you became familiar. Everyday you'd have her coffee ready before she walked through the door. When you started doing that she noticed and in turn noticed you.

After a while of short and curt conversations she asked you not to have her order ready so she can stay just a tint bit longer to talk. And you happily did that instead.

The two of you flirt in your own way but can't see the other's way of doing it so it takes Leliana and your co-worker to show you both.

【Solas🥮】 His gluttony lead him to your sweets.

Your shop was known for intense flavors and he has the world's biggest sweet tooth. Every other coffee shop or bakery isn't sweet enough for him, even when the workers tell him it will give him a sugar rush.

So when you give him glazed up cinnamon rolls and the sluttiest chocolate croissant he's ever had he vows to come back. You can see it in his react he was in heaven.

His flirting hits you out of nowhere. He'll suddenly build on what you said and half of the time it's absolutely filthy. Then he'll continue the conversation like he didn't really say anything.

【Dorian🍵】 He's a model who comes in when he can for a pick-me-up.

The first time you met he went in because it wasn't busy and he didn't want to be bothered by anyone. And you had no idea who he was. At first he thought you were being polite but you really didn't know and he did his best to keep it that way.

You told him his name was pretty and asked where he was from due to his accent. You made the foam art in front of him so fast and professionally you weren't even looking at it, holding the conversation. He's a suckered for skill and someone who treated him normal. Not to mention your charm and receptiveness to his flirting.

Every visit he make his interest in you known and at first you think he's teasing. Honestly, he probably is out of your league but he doesn't see it that way. When you realize that you flirt back for real.

[acourtofquestions]

Dont be angry, Finnula said. Be smart.

[gibbearish]

btw similar to the whole "if you try adderall at a party and it calms you down, get an adhd test" thing, if at some point in your life you try microdosing shrooms with a friend and end up feeling like a functional person for the first time in your life, get tested for depression. like yeah hallucinogens come with elation so youre probably gonna have some "this is the best ive ever felt in my life" vibes regardless, but like. if that in and of itself feels like finally breathing in for the first time in years, thats for sure a sign that something is up with your ability to process serotonin most of the time. feeling better than ever before should be a nice bonus, not a crushing weight off your chest

[butleroftoast]

[Sees the new Dragon Age trailer is out, gives in to temptation, breaks oath to go in totally blind, and watches it.]

Oh, hey, it looks kind of neat. Reminds me of the DAII Isabela trailer. I'm cautiously optimistic. :)

[Sees the reaction online.]

._.

[antiqua-lugar]

anyway I choose to believe Dorian and Wyll did not really unpack any of that because it is all A Lot and just hold each other all night. they can start talking tomorrow.

[zoya-nazyalenskys]

mechanics wise baldur's gate 3 really feels like what the sequel to dragon age origins should have been like

[dragonagetales]

Welcome and Rules~!

Heyya everyone, thought it was about time I made a proper into page to get this thing set up~!

The name's Finch! I've been into DA for a while now and finally wanted to take a crack at making some good old imagines and character reacts. I'm able to write for all current Dragon age games and I'm trying to catch up on the books/comics!

Rules:

I'm able to write Headcanons, Scenarios, Imagines and Character/Companion reactions with any character you'd like~! Please be sure to specify the type of request or else I usually default to hcs! There's no character limit though the more characters requested at one time the longer it will take to write, so please keep that in mind when requesting.

I usually default to the Warden/Hawke/Inq with gender neutral pronouns unless requested otherwise so if yo want the s/o to be someone else with a specific backstory/origin please let me know when you're requesting, I'd love to write for them!

I'm fine with writing NSFW hcs/scenarios, and those will be tagged accordingly when they are posted!

Feel free to be as vague or specific as you'd like! Though I love the specific ones as they give me more to work with and allow me to give you more detailed answers!

When requesting a match up please be sure to include preferred pronouns and preferences so I can best match you up! If you want a specific game matchup please be sure to include that as well! Just like requests, the more information the better, as it gives me a cleraer idea o the best dragon age match up for you~! It's no problem if you need to send in multiple asks, so long as you include an identifying feature/emoji to link them together!

If there's any questions or things you want to know feel free to ask my inbox and messages are always open, and I look forward to getting to write for you all!

[huldrabitch]

Dorian is my favourite Da character but that doesn't mean I can't also fucking hate that they added homophobia at random to the DA universe in Inquisition

[rowanthestrange]

And also with the risk of immediately going ‘lol River having kids’, the last first thing we saw her do was basically adopt three children. As unreal-but-they-feel-themselves-to-be-real as they are. Again, good shot you could keep River out of it, but just reminding.

Can I talk about the elephant in the room with Ruby and the Doctor?

This is dumb. We know it’s dumb. But also right now our meta includes:

Song in her soul; human but plus power even the Maestro notes; the Doctor wept at the truth; Mrs Flood; paradox complexity of birth and separation from parent must stand no matter how painful; christmas; if Doctor is a god now - child of God - Jesus - Church; Carla and her fostering we know is a Doctor mirror as well as Carla’s lesbian relationship that ended sadly and Ruby was invested in being a 13/Yaz mirror; the Doctor suddenly suggesting he may have had or will have children; a Pantheon member proving they have familial relationships of a kind - at least ‘fathers’; the Doctor instinctively shielding Ruby’s gaze from the terrifying monster like you would with a child; loves the Beatles as a family trait; and she has a stupid fucking name.

Which reeheeheally would line up with her being the Doctor’s child. And out of all the options River makes sense, unless some of that meta’s a misdirect/just meant to lead you to the concept, and we’re looking for the truest form of godly immaculate conception where Ruby doesn’t have a mother-

-And she’s looking for her mother when this means of course she’d never find one, she doesn’t have one, and she should have been looking for her father.

When the kneejerk reaction passes, what’re we thinking about that?

[nightingaelic]

How about fallout 4 companions reacting to sole who is a young teen but they never knew until they took off their mask?

The metropolitan ruins of the Commonwealth had one advantage that the wider wasteland didn't have - plenty of places to hide. It was sometimes safer for travelers to duck between the urban canyons of the bygone world, pick their way through its shadowy rubble on the way to caps or glory, squeeze between crumbling walls when danger pursued them. It was commonplace to say "the ruins swallowed them" when someone on a trip went missing, and "Boston spat them out again" if and when they finally emerged.

The sole survivor was damn good at this. In fact, they were nearly as much of a phantom as the Silver Shroud, appearing at the strangest times in the most unlikely places, and disappearing again just as fast. Some Goodneighbor ghouls even took to calling them the Shroud, whenever they stalked into town like a feral cat. It didn't do them any favors that they always wore a hood over a gas mask, jumped at sudden noises and refused to let anyone close to them. It earned them odd looks, and glances of curiosity, exasperation, and sympathy for those they shared their road with.

Their companion had assumed some of this was normal vault dweller behavior, as many vault dwellers were ill at ease without a roof over their heads, but things fell into place one hot day in the summer. The shoreline was sweltering under the sun, stinking of algae and flotsam, and finally even the sole survivor had had enough. They threw their hood back, unbuckled their gas mask, and emerged the picture of tragic youth: Tired eyes in a full face, blinking in the unfamiliar harshness of the light.

They caught sight of their companion's realization and lifted their chin up. "Don't start," they said.

Cait: "Oh, hell." Cait sucked a breath in through her teeth. "You'd better start explaining some things fast, little chicken."

"No idea what you're talking about, Cait."

They tried to keep walking, but Cait grabbed their shoulder and spun them around. "You waltzed into the Combat Zone all by yourself? Took on my contract, thought you'd just tell a grown woman what to do with her time?"

"I did in all the raiders, didn't I?" The sole survivor shook her off. "And taking on your contract wasn't my idea. Tommy couldn't wait to get rid of you."

"Why, you little..." Cait balled her hands into fists. "Don't make this about me. You think you're a big shot, walking around the Commonwealth like you own the place? I'm taking you back to Goodneighbor, and then you and I are through."

"And you'll go back to the Combat Zone? Please." The sole survivor put their hands on their hips. "You'll get bored, and then you'll come looking for me again. I guarantee it."

Codsworth: Codsworth tapped his claw and flamer arms together anxiously. "Are you sure it's safe? I know this beach looks deserted, but you never know just who might turn up."

"Relax, Codsworth," the sole survivor replied. "I'll put it back on if we see anyone. It's just too hot to keep it on for the whole day."

"I shall keep an eye out." Codsworth rotated two of his eye stalks around to cover all directions. "Do you recognize this beach? I believe we visited it before the bombs fell, once or twice."

"It's changed." The sole survivor stooped down to pick up an empty mussel shell. "More junk, obviously, but it's wilder than it used to be. Like the ocean's reclaiming it. I wonder if anything valuable ever washes up."

"Perhaps we can ask Sturges to build you a metal detector," Codsworth suggested.

"Maybe." The sole survivor smiled at the bot. "Or maybe he can show me how to build one, myself."

"A fine idea."

Curie: Curie gasped. "Quoi!? You never said you were so young."

"On purpose," the sole survivor grumbled.

"This is nothing to conceal." Curie took their face in their hands. "I... I suppose I can understand why you have done this, but you shouldn't hide such things from me. I thought we took care of each other."

"We do!" The sole survivor gently pried themselves away. "That wasn't what I was worried might change. It was the how of it. People... people get protective of me, and they don't need to be."

"Mon chou." Curie smiled down at them. "Of course they are. You are still small, and in this world, this is a rare thing."

"Well, that doesn't matter." The sole survivor unshouldered their pack and sank down to sit in the sand. "Everything that happened to me in the vault still happened."

Curie sat down next to them. "Yes. Je suis - I am sorry. What you have been through is too much."

Paladin Danse: "How-" Danse shook his head. "You... impossible."

"No, it's really me." The sole survivor sighed. "Here we go."

Danse started in. "Why didn't you disclose this at our first encounter? Why were you drawn into a fight with ferals in the first place? How did you manage to conceal this from Scribe Haylen, when she checked you over?"

"I didn't know who you were, I was hoping to get some supplies out of the ordeal, and I told her I had stunted growth thanks to being frozen and malnourished," the sole survivor counted off on their fingers. "What else?"

Danse's eyes blazed. "Was any of it true? The vault, the Minutemen, your search for the Institute?"

"Yep, all of that's true." They met his gaze and frowned. "Unfortunately."

The Paladin's anger and suspicion abated somewhat. "I... that's... my apologies. I thought you and I had an understanding, when it came to being forthcoming. I was honest with you."

"You were, and we do." The sole survivor tapped their fingers once more before letting their hands fall to their sides. "I thought you might refuse to talk to me again, if you ever found out. So I didn't say anything."

The answer caught Danse by surprise, and he chuckled. "Why would you ever think that, soldier?"

Deacon: Deacon shut his gaping mouth and pressed his lips together tightly.

"That's right," the sole survivor said, their voice smug.

They continued down the beach a ways together, and pretty soon Deacon's silence began to bother the sole survivor. They kept glancing over at him, like they expected him to start spouting his opinions at any second. Finally, they drew up short by a rickety dock and got directly in his way. "Say something," they demanded.

"There is literally nothing I can say that will top you revealing yourself as a teenager," Deacon replied. "Seriously, my hat's off to you. I wish I'd thought of that, first."

Dogmeat: Dogmeat gave them a hesitant whine, so the sole survivor stuck their hand out. The German shepherd sniffed it over carefully before deciding they were still the person he had attached himself to at the Red Rocket Station, and he came away with his tongue lolling.

"Good dog," the sole survivor praised. "I know I never take it off, but I think we're safe here. Let's keep going."

Mayor John Hancock: Hancock blinked, and then kept blinking. "Did I get a bad batch?" he muttered, partially to himself. "You look like you're aging backwards."

"I promise I'm aging in the same direction as everyone else," the sole survivor assured him. "And technically I'm 220-some years old, so I've got you beat for sure."

"Oh, that can't be right." Hancock squinted and walked a little circle around them. "You're just a kid. Huh."

"Problem?"

"No. Maybe." Hancock sighed and took his hat off to scratch his head. "We get younger than you out and about on their lonesome in Goodneighbor sometimes, but that doesn't mean the wasteland's a kind place to them. My miscreant half is telling me you'll be fine, but my responsible mayoral half is saying we should go back."

The sole survivor crossed their arms. "And what about your fun half?"

Hancock grinned and plopped his hat on their head. "That half's just impressed. You're a real survivor, kid."

Robert Joseph MacCready: "Oh, I'm gonna start." MacCready tipped his hat back and rubbed his face. "You can't be older than what, 12? 13? What are you doing running around without someone to keep an eye on you?"

"You're here, aren't you?"

"You hired me." MacCready felt around his pockets for his caps. "You hired... how the hell did you scrape together 250 caps?"

"Does it matter? I paid your fee, you're here now." The sole survivor scowled. "The job doesn't change just because I'm younger than you thought I was."

"Yes it does," MacCready argued. "Not only are you a vault dweller, you're a kid who doesn't know what they're doing even without factoring in everything that's trying to kill you on the road. Trust me, I grew up in that life. And don't even get me started about how stubborn kids are in thinking they know everything."

"I know I don't know everything, that's why I hired you!" The sole survivor threw their hands up in exasperation. "It was either keep wandering around alone, or hire someone who knows how this world works. Why are you acting like I'm crazy?"

"You're 13. Every 13-year-old is a little crazy." MacCready pinched the bridge of his nose. "I can't believe this. Hancock and Daisy are never gonna let me live this one down."

Nick Valentine: "Aw, kid." Nick's eyes dimmed slightly, his telltale sign of mournful contemplation. "You're the saddest thing I've ever seen."

"That's a huge compliment coming from you," the sole survivor retorted, smirking halfheartedly. "Gonna try to take me back to the office?"

Nick surveyed the beach. "Eventually, maybe. Right now we're okay. If a mirelurk queen pops up though, you and I are gone."

"Well that's a given." The sole survivor's smile widened a little. "You never realized?"

"You spun me quite the story when you came asking for help," Nick replied. "Masterful misdirection. Now that I think of it though, Ellie mentioned something about how you seemed more naive than the average vault dweller. I really should give her a raise."

"You should." The sole survivor sighed. "Come on. I'll tell you the whole story while we're waiting for that mirelurk queen to notice us, if you want to hear it."

Nick offered them his hand. The sole survivor studied the detective for a moment before taking it. "Well hop to it," the old synth said with a smile. "I'm on tenterhooks."

Piper Wright: "You can't be any older than Nat," Piper breathed. "How did... never mind. We're heading back to Diamond City, now."

"No we are not." The sole survivor planted their feet in the sand. "I have things to do up the coast, and I'm not going back until they're done. You can go if you want, but I won't be going with you."

"Oh yes you will be." Piper seized their wrist and held it up. "I'm already responsible for one preteen, and the only way I get any sleep is if I know she's safe inside the Wall. I don't need your sudden death to mirelurks on my conscience, Blue."

The sole survivor twisted their arm loose and took a few steps back. "So don't let the mirelurks get me."

Piper lunged to grab them, but they darted around her arms and took off down the beach. "Get back here!" the reporter yelled, taking off after them.

Preston Garvey: Preston's eyes had gone as wide as the brim of his hat. "I made you the general," he blurted out.

"You did." The sole survivor shook their head. "I told you not to."

"But you didn't tell me why!" Preston put his hands up, overwhelmed. He turned back and forth on the sand, unsure of where to start. "The Abernathy farm, Tenpines, the Corvega factory... Christ, the deathclaw at the museum... how?!?"

The sole survivor looked just as bewildered as him. "Luck?"

"This can't be happening." Preston ran a hand over his face. "I've got... I've got to tell... wait, does Sturges know? Does anyone - does Mama Murphy know? Because if they knew and didn't tell me, we're gonna have a big problem."

"Breathe," the sole survivor advised him. "Are you mad at me?"

"No - yes - I don't know!" Preston hit the sand with a thump and wracked his brains. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well at first I was scared." The sole survivor sat down next to him. "And then I worried it would send you into a crisis, like the one you're in the middle of. But this had to happen at some point."

Strong: Strong snorted. "Puny human."

"Hey." The sole survivor pointed up at him with a stern look. "I said don't start, and I meant it."

"Tiny!" Strong roared with laughter, holding his belly. "Too little. Need to drink milk."

The sole survivor rolled their eyes. "Yeah, that's what Preston said, too. Good for my bones, or something."

X6-88: "You appear to be of an insufficient age to be traveling the wasteland alone," X6-88 replied.

"But I'm not traveling alone, I'm with you."

"I am a relatively recent addition." X6-88 placed a hand on their shoulder. "Standby for relay."

"No!" The sole survivor ducked out of his grip and stood their ground breathlessly. "You have to do what I tell you to, right? Don't take me back down there. Something's off about that place."

"My mission is to protect you," X6-88 said. "Institute protocol states that children are not permitted to leave the facility until they are of a certain age. You do not appear to meet the requirements, and therefore my mission necessitates our return."

The sole survivor took off running, meandering a bit in the wet sand. X6-88 gave pursuit, easily outpacing them despite the heat. He locked an arm around their waist and ignored their struggling while he tried to call in the relay request again.

"Stop!" the sole survivor shrieked. "I'm not safe down there, X6-88!"

The Courser paused his communication attempt. "Explain."

BONUS!

Ada: "I was just thinking it was a wise decision to cover your face," Ada replied. "Not everyone you meet in the wasteland can be trusted."

"R... right." The sole survivor hung the gas mask from their belt and nodded. "You live and die by first impressions, out here. Especially if you're my age."

"May I ask why you concealed your age from me?" Ada inquired. "We are relatively recent partners, but our mission to find the Mechanist and help the Commonwealth is still the same."

"I don't know. Adults get weird around me." The sole survivor shrugged. "I guess I view you as an adult, thanks to your voice module. How old are you, Ada?"

"That question does not have a simple answer." Ada indicated her frame's various parts. "My components are largely from pre-war robots, but the fastenings and hardware holding me together are varied. I was assembled in my current form about seven years ago, but I have gone through a few upgrades since."

The sole survivor giggled. "So in one way, you're as old as me, maybe even older, but in another, I'm older than you. I like that."

Porter Gage: Gage swallowed his surprise and raised an eyebrow at them. "Didn't say nothing, Overboss."

"But you're thinking it." The sole survivor rounded on him. "I'm small, but I'm dangerous. The gangs all know it. You know it."

"Sure," Gage agreed. Internally, his mind raced. Did any of the gang leaders know? Had Colter known? How the hell was he going to salvage this?

"There it is." The sole survivor shoved their weapon up against his chest. "Second thoughts, Gage?"

"Well can you blame me?" Gage shot back. "Here I am, thinking I've finally got someone with their head on straight who's still scary enough to keep Nuka-World in line, and you're not even tall enough to ride some of the rollercoasters in the park. What do you want me to think, huh?"

The sole survivor pushed him back a step. "I survived the Gauntlet, the Galactic Zone, and the fucking Safari Adventure. Think about that before you start panicking, bloodworm."

Old Longfellow: "Frolicking fog crawlers." Longfellow spat out the drink of water he'd just taken and re-screwed the top on his canteen. "You're just a kid."

"And?" The sole survivor crossed their arms. "I can still out-shoot you, grandpa."

"Cannot. Look, you've got arms skinnier than bloodbug's."

They stuck their tongue out at him. "At least I don't need to be half a bottle deep in bourbon just to get out of bed in the fucking morning."

"You watch your mouth," Longfellow warned them, wagging his finger. "Didn't anyone teach you to respect your elders?"

"Sure, but you need to be respectable, first."

Longfellow roared with laughter and clapped them on the shoulder. "Not bad, kid. Not bad. You're alright. Course, we can't go looking for Shipbreaker until you grow another foot or two. Come on, let's go."

The sole survivor ducked out of his grasp and shook their head. "Uh-uh. You promised me shrimp for dinner, and I'm not going back to Far Harbor without one."

Elder Arthur Maxson: Maxson stared at them, dismay and fury building in his chest. They had deceived him, deceived Paladin Danse, deceived all of the officers and put themselves and his soldiers in harm's way. Brotherhood law dictated that a betrayal of this magnitude warranted punishment. At the very least, a stripping of rank and removal of duties.

The sole survivor stared back at him, defiant. "Well?"

Suddenly, Maxson was looking at himself. A child thrust into an unwanted role, set upon enemy troops and deathclaws and super mutants well before they were ready to do so. He loosened his fists, took a few deep breaths, and wondered if Elder Owyn Lyons or his daughter Sarah had looked at him in the same way.

"At ease," he murmured, taking a step back. "It appears... we have things to discuss, Knight."

Desdemona: Desdemona looked them over with the air of a disappointed manager. "I didn't say anything."

"You're going to." The sole survivor put their hood back up and scowled. "Something about not accepting agents unless they're at least 16."

"At least 17."

"Whatever." The sole survivor dug their boot into the sand and unearthed a piece of driftwood. "What does it matter? We have the same enemies. I'm going after them whether I'm in the Railroad or not."

Desdemona said nothing. She didn't doubt their words - plenty of people sought revenge on the Institute without the Railroad's help - but she couldn't help but recall the laundry list of missions she'd sent them on since they had tracked her down. Raider dens, known synth reconnaissance locations, even a deathclaw nest. Something in her chest clenched tight, and she closed her eyes.

"Tell me the truth," she said, trying to shut out the sound of the ocean surf so she could focus on them. "If you take away the years in cryo, how old are you?"

The answer took a few moments. "I'm 15," the sole survivor insisted. "Almost. In about a month."

Desdemona frowned, then shook her head. "We're going back to HQ. You can make your case to the rest of the agents there."

"Make my-?"

"You're too young to be working with us at all, but you know too much now not to be involved." Desdemona turned away. "I can't make this kind of decision by myself. Let's go."