#for someone who fucks the inquisitor so hard the bed breaks

[mightierthanthecanon]

Dragon Age Inquisition

Ben-Hassrath training, remember? Grew up learning to manipulate people. When it’s a hostile target, you give them what they want. But when it’s someone you care about, you give them what they need.

[yes-these-obsessions-are-healthy]

Being a thirsty Solasmancer is wild because within the canon of DA:I, Solas explicitly does not fuck, but fanon designates that not only does he fuck, but he fucks severely.

It’s really hard to stay the course and keep true to canon because canon deprived us of what literally every other romances in Origins, II, and Inquisition got. It does add to the tragic, spiritual theme of the love, but damn does it suck to remember “oh wait, canonically this could not have ever, ever happened during the events of Inquisition”. 😭

We do get that line that amounts to “I’m grim and fatalistic. That it draws you into bed with me is a nice perk”, which, if we are taking it at its strict meaning, is that he and the Inquisitor literally just share a bed and do nothing else in it, which now that I think about it, speaks to how powerful the platonic side of the relationship is. In fact, you could go even further and say that sharing your bed with Solas is a deeply intimate/meaningful gesture, because if there is one thing the man loves, it’s exploring the Fade in dreams, and he has dreamt alone for how many centuries, millennia. Sleeping together is not just ‘we are sharing a space in a manner that is reserved for those we trust and feel comfortable with”—he is also sharing one of his..dare I say, hobbies with you. The very act of sleeping together is like drinking a pint with the Iron Bull, or playing pranks with Sera. What makes it even more special than those amusements is that you are doing this with him for 6-8 hours straight, and it’s a necessary function, so yeah, it’s doubly convenient. It all lines up in such a simply splendid way.

But as I was..fandom creations that depict Solas having sex with the Inquisitor within the confines of Inquisition’s core game (or even Trespasser, I guess), is an act of terribly understandable wish fulfillment, but writing him having sex with the Inquisitor DOES change an aspect of his character, tweaks it a bit. The opportunity to “lay” with the Inquisitor while hiding his true self is one he does not take, canonically, out of principle. For a Solas to have sex with the Inquisitor, his character would have to break that link in his inscrutable moral chain. The thing about ethics, morals, people, characters, is that so much can postulated based on what line they will not cross. Clearly, Solas holds honesty in sexual relations to be important. He would not have sex with the Inquisitor under false pretenses, or more specifically, with a partner who was not fully informed on who exactly he was, because he is correct to assume that someone who had the full picture might hesitate to jump into bed with him, but that option was not able to be presented for obvious reasons. So he stamped the whole sex thing with an “N/A” and left it at that. He wasn’t going to allow a lack of information to affect the Inquisitor’s decision—he was not going to take the risk of it unfairly swaying in his favor. It would be unethical in the highest degree. The man may lie “by omission”, but he wasn’t going to let those lies deliver him the use of someone’s body like that.

[athena1138]

Character Study: Pre-Inquisition

ah shit aight lets do this. i was tagged by @gaymingbinosaur​

#1: Alena Fanellis-Lavellan 

Note: Her answers are based while she’s with the Lavellan clan, so only 3ish years before Inquisition. 

Layer 01: The Outside

Eye Colour: Silver

Hair Style / Colour: White and crazy curly

Height: 5′5

Clothing Style: Very basic. Usually leather pants and a tunic. Robes only if she’s practicing magic. 

Best Physical Feature:  Her nose. She’s grown into it by now and it suits her so uniquely well. 

Layer 02: The Inside

Fears: Capture

Guilty Pleasure: Sneaking away from camp to take naps uninterrupted. She’s very tired. 

Biggest Pet Peeve:  Thievery. She fought very hard for the things she has. 

Ambitions For The Future:  Living the life she dreamed of in the circle. Free, unrestrained, unafraid. 

Layer 03: Thoughts

First Thoughts Waking Up: “Gods not again.”

What They Think About Most: What comes next. What will she do today, what will she do tomorrow, where will she be in a year? Things like that. 

What They Think About Before Bed: Nothing. Or at the very least, that’s what she strives for. Often it’s bad memories. 

What They Think Their Best Quality Is: She doesn’t think about it much, but she knows she’s brave. 

Layer 04: Either Or…

Single Or Group Dates:

Group. She’s too shy/scared to be alone with someone like that for a while. Growing up surrounded by people will do that to you. 

To Be Loved Or Respected:

Loved. To be seen and known is a beautiful thing. 

Beauty Or Brains:

Brains. She’s not shallow, and she’s very well educated. 

Dogs Or Cats:

Cats.

Layer 05: Do They…

Lie: Not often. She’s usually very direct, unless she’s afraid of something. (Like, she’ll lie to Templars, for sure.) 

Believe In Themselves: Yes and no. She’s overcome so much in her life but she isn’t sure she can handle much more, especially without the help she had before. 

Believe In Love:.  In theory. Familial and platonic love, absolutely. But romantic? She’s only ever seen it or read about it. 

Want Someone: Not necessarily. People are risky. They come and go so often and many times they’re not good people. If she were to live her life alone, she thinks she’d be ok with that. 

Layer 06: Have They…

Been On Stage: Once. The Circle had a little fun night once a year for the mages, and one year they put on a play. She had one line and she fucked it up. 

Done Drugs: Yes. 

Changed Who They Were To Fit In: No, not really. She’s always been weird. She doesn’t even think she could change if she wanted to. 

Layer 07: Whats Their…

Favourite Colours: Orange. The color of the sun setting on the ocean. 

Favourite Animal: She thinks nugs are the bees knees. 

Favourite Book: Anything but a spell tome. Maker, she’s had enough of tomes in her life. She likes funny books, things that can make her laugh and forget herself. 

Favourite Game: Chess. 

Layer 08: Age

Day Their Next Birthday Will Be: The 2nd of Umbralis

How old will they be: Ah shit. Um. We’ll say the year before the Conclave which means 9:40. She’ll be............. 27. Yeah.  

Layer 09: I…

I Love: Being in high places.  I Feel: Worried. I Hide: All the time. I Miss: Anders. I Wish: So many things. 

Vikara Lavellan

Layer 01: The Outside

Eye Colour: Green

Hair Style / Colour: Straight, black, mid-back length

Height: 5′3

Clothing Style: She’s both very fancy and very plain. She wears mostly black but it’s cut very finely to her body. 

Best Physical Feature:  Eyes for sure. 

Layer 02: The Inside

Fears: Losing herself

Guilty Pleasure: Sneaking desserts and sweets when nobody is looking. 

Biggest Pet Peeve:  Superiority complexes. Which is ironic for multiple reasons. 

Ambitions For The Future:  To become her clan’s Keeper. 

Layer 03: Thoughts

First Thoughts Waking Up: “Listen to those birds <3 “ 

What They Think About Most: Her training. 

What They Think About Before Bed: She usually reads before bed, so that, but also she’ll think about her day and if she was happy with how it went or not. 

What They Think Their Best Quality Is: She’s very good at drawing. 

Layer 04: Either Or…

Single Or Group Dates: Single. 

To Be Loved Or Respected: Respected. Nobody ever got anywhere being loved. 

Beauty Or Brains: Yes. She appreciates beauty and she appreciates brains, but one without the other is pointless. 

Dogs Or Cats: Dogs. 

Layer 05: Do They…

Lie: Frequently. Gotta keep people on their toes. 

Believe In Themselves: Absolutely. She’s badass and she knows it. 

Believe In Love:.  Not really. She has more important things to think about. 

Want Someone: Not really. It’d be nice, but again, she’s got more important things. 

Layer 06: Have They…

Been On Stage: Nah. Not for her. 

Done Drugs: Once. She liked it very much but she’s worried about it becoming a habit. 

Changed Who They Were To Fit In: No. The world can adapt to her. 

Layer 07: Whats Their…

Favourite Colours: Yellow. 

Favourite Animal: Harts

Favourite Book: She’s very fond of nonfiction and educational books. Her favorites are books that explain the other religions in the world. 

Favourite Game: Hide and seek

Layer 08: Age- Also when I do Evie I’ll skip this since twins

Day Their Next Birthday Will Be: ah shit. I know I’ve said it before. Um, we’ll say the 1st of Nubulis, the first day of spring. 

How old will they be: 30

Layer 09: I…

I Love: my clan I Feel: anxious I Hide: personal things I Miss: the ocean I Wish: i were more powerful

Asena “Not Actually the Inquisitor” Adaar

Layer 01: The Outside

Eye Colour: Bluegreen

Hair Style / Colour: Long, black, a mix between coiled and curly

Height: 6′5 without the horns

Clothing Style: If she’s at work, dapper. She dresses up and dresses neatly. If she’s at home, she’s more laid back, just comfortable and casual. 

Best Physical Feature:  Her mascles

Layer 02: The Inside

Fears: Nothing. She’s not afraid of anything. 

Guilty Pleasure: She doesn’t have any. Pleasure is pleasure, there’s no sense in feeling guilty about it. 

Biggest Pet Peeve:  Rudeness, both to her and other people. 

Ambitions For The Future:  Take over the business. 

Layer 03: Thoughts

First Thoughts Waking Up: Just that she’s gotta get up and get busy. 

What They Think About Most: Her job 

What They Think About Before Bed: Plans for tomorrow, important things that will need doing soon, she should really write to Gemma. 

What They Think Their Best Quality Is: She’s fearless. 

Layer 04: Either Or…

Single Or Group Dates: She doesn’t date. She fucks. Groups are welcome. 

To Be Loved Or Respected: Feared. Which is respected+ in her mind. 

Beauty Or Brains: Beauty. She doesn’t think she’d ever get attached enough to care about brains. It’s a lot of one night stands for her. That’s not to say she doesn’t care about the women she sleeps with, she just doesn’t get close. 

Dogs Or Cats: Neither, they’re just collateral. 

Layer 05: Do They…

Lie: You’d have a harder time picking the truths out of her words than the lies. 

Believe In Themselves: Yes? It’s weird. She doesn’t really... think of herself. She just does. So far she hasn’t failed, so I guess you could say she believes in herself. 

Believe In Love:.  No. 

Want Someone: No. All she needs is good people at her back and Gemma and TIB to be safe and sound. 

Layer 06: Have They…

Been On Stage: Literally, no. But every interaction in her life is one big show, so metaphorically, always. 

Done Drugs: No. She’s seen what that shit does to people. 

Changed Who They Were To Fit In: Pfft. No. In her line of work? People adapt to HER to fit in. 

Layer 07: Whats Their…

Favourite Colours: Purple. 

Favourite Animal: She doesn’t really have one. Sharks are cool, she guesses. 

Favourite Book: She doesn’t have much time for leisure reading but she has a soft spot for dashing lesbian romances. 

Favourite Game: Darts

Layer 08: Age- Also when I do Evie I’ll skip this since twins

Day Their Next Birthday Will Be: She isn’t sure. 

How old will they be: Again, not sure, but she’s around 28 she reckons. 

Layer 09: I…

I Love: Money I Feel: Disillusioned  I Hide: As much as I have to I Miss: Gemma I Wish: For the safety of my friends

Gemma Cadash

Layer 01: The Outside

Eye Colour: Purple and blue

Hair Style / Colour: Short bob, straight, deep red

Height: 4′5

Clothing Style: Low-key things. Lots of darker fabrics, hoods, leather armor. 

Best Physical Feature:  Her tattoos are neat. 

Layer 02: The Inside

Fears: Being forced into things. 

Guilty Pleasure: Every time she breaks into a house, she steals every left shoe she can find. Just because. 

Biggest Pet Peeve:  Being talked down to. 

Ambitions For The Future:  She’d like to be able to retire from her life. She loves her job, but she wants to die living comfortably in the countryside somewhere. 

Layer 03: Thoughts

First Thoughts Waking Up: “Fuck over” 

What They Think About Most: Gemma? Think? Nah babe, that head’s as empty as a politician’s. She’s very impetuous. 

What They Think About Before Bed: Not much. She falls asleep fairly easily every night. 

What They Think Their Best Quality Is: Her impetuousness often goes in her favor. 

Layer 04: Either Or…

Single Or Group Dates: Single. 

To Be Loved Or Respected: Loved. 

Beauty Or Brains: Brains.

Dogs Or Cats: GIVE THEM TO HER

Layer 05: Do They…

Lie: Yeah, in her line of work it’s hard not to. 

Believe In Themselves:  Sure? She hasn’t fucked up too badly yet so 

Believe In Love:.  She’d like to, but whether or not it’ll come to her, she doesn’t know. 

Want Someone: Most days, yeah. She’s kind of a romantic.

Layer 06: Have They…

Been On Stage: No

Done Drugs: A few. She’s not a fan. 

Changed Who They Were To Fit In: No, she’s pretty stalwart in who she is. 

Layer 07: Whats Their…

Favourite Colours: Blue

Favourite Animal: Dragons. Dragons are so fucking cool. 

Favourite Book: She’s not a big reader, but she loves Varric’s cheesy shit. 

Favourite Game: She loves a good drinking game. 

Layer 08: Age- Also when I do Evie I’ll skip this since twins

Day Their Next Birthday Will Be: She doesn’t know. 

How old will they be: Again, doesn’t know. Early 30s she thinks. 

Layer 09: I…

I Love: the sky I Feel: tired I Hide: nothing I Miss: Asena, Orzammar I Wish: i had a pet dragon 

Madeira Cadash

Layer 01: The Outside

Eye Colour: Gold/yellow

Hair Style / Colour: Ashy grey cropped short 

Height: 4′8

Clothing Style: Whatever she can find. Often oversized, worn down clothes. She’s not fancy. 

Best Physical Feature:  Those lips though 

Layer 02: The Inside

Fears: Being alone

Guilty Pleasure: She likes sneaking out at night to drink with the lads 

Biggest Pet Peeve:  Unexpected, loud noises.

Ambitions For The Future:  Survive. She doesn’t have plans for anything 

Layer 03: Thoughts

First Thoughts Waking Up: “Who the fuck is bothering me?” 

What They Think About Most: Food, honestly. She loves to eat. 

What They Think About Before Bed: She likes to pretend she lives different lives. One night she’s a princess, another she’s a dashing thief, another she has an entire harem of people to love her. Just silly, fanciful ideations. 

What They Think Their Best Quality Is: She’s pretty funny when she wants to be 

Layer 04: Either Or…

Single Or Group Dates: Group. You can learn a lot about a person based on how they interact with others. 

To Be Loved Or Respected: Loved, but that’s also very scary for her. 

Beauty Or Brains: Brawns. She likes toughness. 

Dogs Or Cats: Dogs. The bigger the better. She loves mabaris especially because they can grow to be as tall as she is 

Layer 05: Do They…

Lie: When necessary. 

Believe In Themselves: Not really. She dislikes herself more than anything. 

Believe In Love:.  Nah. Love is just a daydream.

Want Someone: Frequently, yes. 

Layer 06: Have They…

Been On Stage: Yeah. She used to work in an acting troupe once upon a time. 

Done Drugs: Nope.

Changed Who They Were To Fit In: When necessary. 

Layer 07: Whats Their…

Favourite Colours: Red. 

Favourite Animal: Druffalos. 

Favourite Book: She likes books of a more..... questionable nature. If they have pictures, well all the better. 

Favourite Game: Wicked Grace. 

Layer 08: Age- Also when I do Evie I’ll skip this since twins

Day Their Next Birthday Will Be: The 21 of Matrinalis. 

How old will they be: 35 (the oldest of them all.) 

Layer 09: I…

I Love: my parents I Feel: bored I Hide: myself I Miss: home I Wish: i had some booze. 

[novamm66]

Red Sky in the Morning - Chapter 15 - Weigh Heigh

We are getting more away for the canon storyline and more into my own headcanon so this should be exciting.

This chapters name came from my one of my fav sea chants and my favourite version is below. ("It's only half you may ask. There is a reason *wink wink*)

Current favourite version: The Drunken Whaler Copilot Strategic Sound + Music

---

Met with V’s contact. will send report on Corpf C later. Hawke concerned about wardens. Going to meet with contact to learn more. Taking V, IB, & Sra.

—-

Like everywhere Kiaya went, Crestwood was in a state of disaster.

The journey there had been enjoyable. Hawke’s humour had fit right in with Bull and Sera, and they and Varric had tried to one-up each other’s stories all the way there. Kiaya had been glad to be left with her own thoughts, laughing along but with little to say.

The weather changed the closer to Crestwood they got, and Kiaya could feel a wrongness that set her teeth on edge. It was pouring and windy to the point of being miserable when they arrived at the first camp, and from there they could see the lake waters boiling with the effect of the fade rift deep below. It was infecting the water and rain, and it made Kiaya’s water magic sluggish and hard to cast.

Whether it was the fade magic or simply the rain itself, the group's mood shifted, and everyone became irritable and on edge. Hawke most of all. Meeting the other group of Wardens who were searching for Hawke’s contact had pushed the women over the edge, and she and Kiaya had been arguing ever since. The arguing didn’t stop upon discovering the dire straits the Crestwood townsfolk were facing. Currently, Sera and Bull were fighting alongside the villagers against the walking corpses at the gate while Hawke and Kiaya argued about what they should do next.

“We need to keep moving. we can come back after we find them,” Hawke said.

Kiaya sighed, this was a conversation that they had had a few times and she was tired of it. “Hawke, we can’t just leave these folks like this. We don’t even know if we can get to the meeting place. If the locals say we can't get there, they would likely know.”

Hawke snorted and waved her hand dismissively. “They probably haven’t even checked. And just because they can’t make it doesn’t mean we can’t.”

Kiaya lost her grip on her temper and she yanked a damp shirt out of her pack with too much force, breaking the bag’s drawstring. “Fuck.” Kiaya crossed to the fire and draped the shirt over the back of Varric’s chair to dry as much as possible before she had to put it on again. Then she turned to face Hawke as she ripped open the buttons and shucked off her soaked duster.

“I don’t get it, Hawke. How does someone with your reputation turn their back on people who need help?” Kiaya’s tone was accusing, and she regretted opening her mouth the moment she finished. But she met the eyes of the other woman, ignoring Varric’s scolding ‘Smudges’ from behind her.

Hawke’s eyes narrowed but she didn’t speak, the tension in the room thrumming in time with the rain beating on the roof. Kiaya locked her mouth shut, knowing if she said anything else it would only make things worse, and waited. She had hoped to get Hawke’s advice on the situation Kiaya found herself in, but that wasn’t likely now.

When Hawke finally spoke her voice was steady and low, like the growl of a cat “I’ll tell you what happened, Inquisitor.” The last word was spoken with a sneer.

“Everything I did was to protect my family, and it was all for nothing. It was my fault my sister got infected with the taint. While I was busy saving the city my mother was butchered. I barely managed to stop the mages and Templars from tearing apart what was left of the city after the Chantry exploded. But the moment I could not execute...” Hawke’s voice wavered then hardened. “The moment I could not execute one of my closest friends, someone who had saved my life countless times, I was chased out of my home. Again.”

“Hawke, I-“ but Kiaya was cut off by Hawke’s raised hand.

“The Hero of Ferelden is buried beneath a block of stone and I haven’t slept in the same bed twice in longer then I can remember.” Hawke’s voice softened, although her face remained hard.

“I am sorry for the position you are in. That mark pretty much puts you in the centre of all this shit. But I’ve given enough and I have to protect the only home I have left, and they are all in that cave.”

Hawke broke the stare she and Kiaya had been holding to cross over to the map on the table. Kiaya almost sagged, and she realized she was holding her breath.

Once Hawke had marked the map, she turned back and shouldered her pack. “Do what you have to do and meet me there. Be careful.” Hawke’s eyes rested first on Varric before she looked at Kiaya again. Her gaze was cool, but Kiaya could see sympathy underneath. “And don’t die.” She opened the door and was gone in a swirl of rain.

“You too, Hawke,” Varric called after her. Kiaya simply stared at the door.

It was a while before Varric spoke again. “Shirt’s dry.”

When Kiaya didn’t respond, Varric cleared his throat. “Smudges, you’re soaked. Get changed.” Kiaya felt her shirt hit her back. She caught it just before it hit the floor. Kiaya stripped off the wet shirt and slipped on the dry one. The warmed cotton was a simple comfort, but a comfort nonetheless. She fumbled doing up the shirt buttons one-handed, then turned back and hung the wet one up. Without looking at Varric, she crossed to Sera’s pack and pulled out the first clothes she found and hung those up as well. She repeated the process for Bull before Varric spoke again. “How ya doing, Smudges?”

“I’m-” Kiaya sat down in a chair across from him, elbows on her knees, hands clasped under her chin as she stared at her feet. “Feeling entirely too much.”

She dropped her head to rub at the sore muscles across the back of her neck. “Fuck me. Hawke must hate me now.”

“Naw, she likes you. I can tell.” Varric chuckled at the expression of disbelief on Kiaya’s face. “If she didn’t, she would have decked you.”

Kiaya couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, I’m glad then. She would have to cream me.” Kiaya stood, stretched, then picked up her wet gear with a grimace. “Let’s go give the other two a chance to take a break, then we will make a plan for the Keep.”

“Great idea, Smudges.” Varric grinned at Kiaya grimace. He got to his feet and slung Bianca over his shoulder.

Kiaya stuck her tongue out at him as she pushed open the door and headed out into the rain.

—-

“Eggsuckingpissfucker!” Sera swore as she slipped and fell. “When it was raining, the mud washed off.”

“At least it’s warm.” Kiaya handed her a partially clean rag. “And just listen to those birds.”

“Lotsa birds means lotsa bugs.” Sera slapped the back of her neck.

They had successfully defeated the bandits that had taken over the keep, and had drained the lake to reach the rift in the caverns below. It had been a dank, slimy slog, and they were all exhausted. The better weather and safer roads made the journey to Hawke’s mark on the map uneventful and quick, but Kiaya knew her companions were eager to be done with this place and headed back to Skyhold. The hill and cave mouth showed no signs of any two-legged visitors; there was nothing around but brontos and birds.

“Keep your eyes open. We don’t know what’s waiting for us.” Kiaya said, making eye contact with Bull, Varric, and Sera in turn before Bull led the way into the cave.

The cave was dark and slippery and it narrowed quickly, and Bull had to stoop just to clear the ceiling so he and Kiaya switched and she took the lead, something the party normally avoided. She led the way until they reached a rough-hewn wall and door. Kiaya motioned for her companions to hold before gently pushing open the door and carefully slipping into the room beyond.

Two paces in and a magical force blew past her, causing her eyes to feel gritty and slamming the door shut, cutting her off from the others. The next thing Kiaya knew, she was flung into a cave wall, a gauntleted hand tight around her throat.

“Twitch and I kill you.”

Kiaya couldn’t have moved if she wanted to. Hitting the wall had knocked the air out of her, and she was having trouble filling her lungs again. Black dots swam in her vision, and all she could do was stare at her attacker as she gasped like a fish.

Shockingly white hair, glowing tattoos, and the greenest eyes she had ever seen were the only details her scrambled mind could take in as she tried to make her eyes focus and her lungs work. Instinctually, she had no doubt he meant what he said.

Kiaya blinked as Hawke suddenly appeared behind him. “Fen, put the nice lady down or I might have to let Varric shoot you.”

—-

“Where’d Smudges go?” Varric asked as he packed away the cards. It had been an enjoyable evening, for him at least: once the excitement of their arrival had simmered down and the business talk about the Wardens had petered out. It had been good for him to be with his old friends again, tense or not. Broody and Blondie had never really moved past ‘barely civil’ after Kirkwall and that hadn’t seemed to change, but the three wardens, Hawke, and Fenris seemed to make it work. Bull could read and blend into any group, and Sera could enjoy any situation with cards and drink.

Varric felt a stab of guilt that he hadn’t noticed earlier that Kiaya was gone.

“Relax, Varric. She hasn’t gone far.” Bull answered. He motioned to where her pack sat, sketchbook balanced on top.

Varric nodded, focusing again on the cards in his hands. He hadn’t realized his mouth had opened until he heard his voice. “That was a shit move you pulled earlier, Hawke, no matter how you and Kiaya left things before.”

“I know.” Hawke at least had the decency to look a little guilty from where she sat next to Fenris. “Sorry.”

“Wrong person to apologize to, Marion.” Bethany didn’t look up from the mending in her lap.

“I know that, too.” Hawke rolled her eyes. “You want me to find her now?”

“Wait until morning. I will go and check on her. I want some air before bed anyway.” Bethany shared a knowing look with Varric as she spoke, and he smiled his gratitude.

“Great.” Hawke glided smoothly to her feet, pulling Fenris up after her. “We’re going to bed.”

“Don’t forget: sound carries in here,” Bethany fired over her shoulder.

—-

Kiaya wasn’t interested in cards. She had barely been able to sit still long enough to pretend to eat. She had tried to practise her writing, but without a book for a guide or someone to help her it was a lost cause, and she had given up in frustration. Feeling too hot and closed-in, she slipped from the cave.

Kiaya had decided to agree to be Inquisitor. It was the right thing to do, she knew that, but just the thought brought a crippling wave of panic.

I have to get my shit together before I can face anything.

The cooler air and the darkness of the moonless night helped, but not much. Kiaya paced in the dark, losing track of time. She couldn’t get her heart to slow down, and she couldn’t catch her breath. Her skin felt too tight, hot, and itchy, and she couldn’t stop moving. All the while her mind raced over every bad thing that had happened and every horrible one that possibly could. One knee gave out and she almost fell. After that she sat on the ground, rocked in place, eyes staring unseeing across the black plain, simply trying to unweave the mess of thoughts in her head.

She didn’t look up when footsteps echoed out of the cave, or when a shadow separated from the darkness and spoke. “Lady Trevelyan. May I join you?”

Kiaya blinked and stared up in surprise at Warden Hawke before nodding.

“Please.” Kiaya had to stop and swallow, her throat too dry. “Please call me Kiaya.”

The other woman sat on a boulder and seemed content to just look at the stars. Which was good for Kiaya. She hadn’t quite gotten herself under control, and if she opened her mouth much more she might bawl. Bethany Hawke’s quiet company was a balm, and Kiaya was able to slow down her breathing, and her rocking becoming more gentle until she stopped.

“Thank you, Warden.” Kiaya’s voice was still shaky, but it worked.

“Bethany, please.” The other mage dropped her gaze from the sky. “I was going to see if you had more questions, but it was just such a lovely night to sit and look at the sky.”

Kiaya could hear understanding and sympathy in Bethany’s voice. “I may later, but not at the moment. I’m a bit...” Kiaya cursed herself, her voice still sounding watery.

“Overwhelmed?” Bethany said gently.

Kiaya laughed quietly. It sounded bitter to her own ears. “I would settle for ‘overwhelmed’ right now.”

“All you have to do is save the world one day at a time.” Bethany winked.

This time Kiaya’s laugh was less forced. “Oh, well when you put it like that…”

The mark flared, and Kiaya choked on a curse as pain shot up her arm. She wasn’t expecting it, which always seemed to make it worse. The world around them was washed in green light until she clamped her hand firmly to her thigh and picked up her discarded gloves.

“I used to hate gloves, still do really, but I hate having a green beacon on my hand more.” Kiaya struggled to get the fingerless glove on her left hand while the muscles spasmed and the mark crackled.

“Do the gloves help?”

“Only with not glowing in the dark. The pain will lessen.” Kiaya sighed. “Eventually.”

“We saw a rift across the plain, by the farmhouses. Could it be reacting to that from here?” Bethany asked with concern.

“It wouldn’t surprise me in the least.”

Both women’s heads snapped up and turned towards a faint sound from the hillside below. They were immediately on their feet, slipping deeper into the shadow of the cave mouth. It was still pitch black, the stars not bright enough to light the ground. Kiaya wasn’t sure, but it had sounded like the scrapping of metal on stone.

“Are you armed?” Bethany’s voice was little more than a breath in Kiaya’s ear.

“Beyond my magic, no.” Kiaya exhaled back. The only thing she had on her was a boot knife.

Bethany was silently bringing her staff to bear. “Anders and I have set traps. He will know if any trip. What do you think? Are we jumping at brontos?”

“I don’t think so,” Kiaya answered slowly, eyes and ears alert for any sign of movement in the black. The mark was still twitching and sparking under her glove, and she was getting that prickly feeling on the back of her neck that she was starting to loathe. Kiaya started marshalling her mana, a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach.

A wall of fire exploded at the bottom of the slope below. A wave of heat broke over the barrier Kiaya had thrown up, the change in the light making her eyes water. She could see eight moving shapes backlit by the fire before arrows clattered against the far side of the cave and she ducked her head. She couldn’t tell for certain how many archers there were, or if there were more attackers beyond the fire.

Bethany strode forward to meet the closest group with her staff in one hand and a spirit blade appearing in the other. Light from her staff glinted off of the red crystals that were growing out of the Templars faces. Kiaya quickly filled the air with fog and water to throw off the archers’ aim. She couldn’t see to hit them beyond the shimmering heat of the fire. She worked to maintain the cover while firing frozen bolts to distract and slow the Templars advancing on Bethany.

They needed time. Both mages would run out of mana before help arrived and without magic, they wouldn’t have a chance.

“Fall back to me, Warden!” Kiaya called above the noise of fighting and the roar of the fire.

Kiaya saw Bethany nod acknowledgement before she blasted the fighters near her back down the hill. She whirled and began running back up the short distance to where Kiaya stood.

Kiaya’s fog was disappearing; she needed all the mana she could get. Her eyes were peeled, watching for arrows in the mist. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a waver in the air, too far from the fire to be heat haze.

“Down, Bethany!” Kiaya shouted.

Bethany didn’t hesitate or look around but hit the ground immediately, throwing herself forward and almost landing at Kiaya’s feet. Kiaya released all of her power into a blast of water and ice that formed a wall curved over the cave mouth.

“We’re safe, for the moment.” Kiaya panted, offering her hand to the woman at her feet.

“Thank you,” Bethany gasped as she stared at the frozen, skewered, and very dead red templar assassin that had been right behind her.

Kiaya’s head was swimming. She could hear the pounding feet of their friends getting closer, meaning she had bought them enough time. But her mana was low enough that she might black out. Bethany caught her as Kiaya swayed on her feet.

“We need to get out of the way.” Kiaya’s words were slurred. Don’t faint, don’t faint, she chanted to herself.

“Out of the way of what?” Bethany’s question was answered by the clatter of an arrow that had found a hole.

“That,” Kiaya swallowed, “The wall is starting to break as well, but mostly, Bull won’t stop until he hits something bigger than him.”

Her words were punctuated by Bull pounding into view, a Qunari war cry echoing off the rock. He didn’t slow down as he approached the ice, slamming into and through it with the force of a charging bronto. Fenris was hot on his heels with the others not far behind.

With everyone involved in the skirmish, it was short work, and by the time they were done Kiaya no longer felt as wobbly as she had been as they all returned to the mouth of the cave.

“Shit, Smudges, you look like only slightly better then they do,” Varric said waving vaguely at the corpses down the hill.

“Thanks.” Kiaya smiled weakly. “I’m fine, nothing some sleep won’t cure.”

“You shouldn’t have been alone or unarmed.” Hawke sounded annoyed and angry but before Kiaya’s tired brain could reply, Bethany beat her to it.

“She wasn’t unarmed. She’s a mage, and if not for her I would be sliced to ribbons right now.” Bethany scolded. “Now I am taking Kiaya in for a sleeping draft. You clean this up.”

“You have to burn the bodies. And don’t touch the lyrium crystals.” Kiaya said.

“We know, Boss.” Bull replied. Kiaya could practically hear him rolling his eye. “Go, before you fall over.”

Kiaya could only nod. She wasn’t shaking anymore, but the bone-deep tiredness from using most of her mana too quickly was dragging her eyelids down.

“Beth, do you need me?”

“No, help them here. I’ve got the Herald,” Bethany answered. Kiaya hadn’t even noticed Anders standing next to them. It was the first words he had spoken since they had arrived.

The other mage nodded, reaching out to touch her arm before leaving them.

The two women turned and headed into the cave. Kiaya concentrated on not tripping over her own feet, grateful for Bethany’s arm around her waist guiding her.

“Well, you have convinced me,” said Bethany.

Kiaya tried to shake off her stupor “Of what?”

“That you can save the world.”

Kiaya groaned, then laughed. “One day at a time?”

Bethany smiled. “Exactly.”

—-

Thanks for reading!

You can find me on AO3 here.

[rekkingcrew]

Rek DMs, Some Thoughts

Buckle up, it’s Edge of the Empire tabletop Roleplaying time.

Yeah, I know I don’t post here much. I’m still doing the devaron’s angels thing, which is scratching a lot of my online itches, and I’ve got a part time job and full time parenting. 

I’d really planned on doing regular updates of what happened each session. Aaaaand that didn’t happen. Which is a shame, I’d love to be able to have those summaries to look back on. But here’s the short version:

The gang, who are a crew of space chancers and criminals rolling around in a stolen police ship, were doing odd jobs together for a while, including some for the empire. Their contact, a Pantoran spymaster whose cover was as a children’s entertainer, congratulated them on their most recent heist job (where the campaign started in medias res), and gave them a new job: deliver a mysterious sealed orb to the leader of the peskiest rebel cell in the general area, led by a Rodian pirate by the name of Cheng Maxeda. They said maybe, took the orb, and then checked around and picked up a delivery job for their local Hutts going the same direction for some extra cash. 

They were brought in because the Hutt shipments had been interfered with by somebody. Their Hutts weren’t sure who, but were damn sure they were going to pay. The gang defeated a whole crazy mess of people who were being lead and bolstered by a falleen who had been surgically altered to boost their pheromone output. Then they picked up the package and made the poor decision of looking inside. It was the carbonite frozen but still living body of the cop who’d previously owned their ship that they were now knowingly handing over, because they couldn’t bring themselves to cross the Hutts. 

Moral issues aside, it was an easy job, they got well paid, the team failed a bunch of social roles and divulged more information than they should have to the Hutt point man, and Brick, the party’s wall of meat, got signed up for a pit fight. He won his round, but imperial troops broke up the match before he could win completely. TK cornered but lost a rebel bomber, and Eshi got contacted by a rebel who recognized him from a bit of backstory. Nyla chased down one of the other gladiators, an old clone with a sword who’d entered the fight because the prize included a bacta dunk and he had a friend who was hurt and dying after being caught by the Hutts trying to bust up a slaving operation. And that’s when the bomb went off, destroying some major imperial instillation bits and projecting a 40 foot holo-image of Cheng the punk rock rodian pirate queen striding across the smoking crater proclaiming she had come to liberate the outer rim. The party was presented with three job options: 1) after Brick’s pit win, the Hutts were down some muscle for a convoy and ready to pay reliable thugs 2) the rebels were looking for a study ship to bust up the hub of a spy satellite network 3) the clone and his weequay buddy (Edge and Horm) still wanted to stop the slave convoy (which was, as the party figured out, job 1). They opted for job 2, leaving town amidst a firefight with the imperials, and brought along Edge and Horm, providing Nyla with a sword fighting trainer who’d studied under a jedi, without being a jedi himself. 

The guys busted up the satellite base by hijacking a shipment truck coming in (I’d provided them information for a couple of routes, including asteroid hopping amidst giant vacuum-proof winged frog monster creatures, and they figured this best matched their skillset). Inside they found tech that looked a whole lot like our droid character TK, a completely brainwashed cyborg engineer, and the control rods that were their target. TK, who is a droid with multiple program personalities, suddenly and without warning displayed a program personality they had never seen before and destroyed the computer mainframe, remembering nothing afterward. The cyborg also had hardware a good deal like Nyla’s, and contained a message begging for help from someone held against their will and being moved between facilities. They blew up the station, retrieved valuable tech, and flew off, triumphant, to get their payment from the rebels. 

The rebels welcomed the gang, who got to know the faction a little bit better. TK nearly started a gunfight, Nyla got a haircut, and Brick and Eshi developed mouse droid beer pong in order to provide historically unique droid bits to an eccentric collector for the last bit Eshi needed to build his machine from the prototype he’d stolen from the corporate sector in his backstory, which runs on two kyber crystals and provides a similar benefit to the force power “foresee”. He used this to figure out the sphere they were carrying contained an intensely virulent ship killer plague that would likely kill them as well, and they resolved to throw that in the sun. The gang foiled an assassination attempt on Cheng and got a new assignment: break her old pirate buddy out of maximum security prison (again, they were presented with several possible assignments, some of which tied in to other plots.) Nyla and Cheng also worked out mutually that they were both force sensitive. 

The prison break went off well. It was a sort of siberian gulag set up on an ice planet, plus some eight foot carnivorous burrowing worms- yeah, those walls are pretty short, prisoners, but where are you gonna run? The gang picked up some extra supplies by agreeing to break out a Hutt operative while they were there anyway. After some exciting sky battles, Nyla and Eshi turns the ship’s forward shields into a battering ram. They made short work of the guards inside, but discovered that there was an unexpected other party there- a wookie bounty hunter who was looking into the disappearance of the guy they handed over to the hutts. That guy was a tough fight even for the team’s big heavies, and they set a load of prisoners free to help them- taking the risk that the maximum security violent shipjackers would not decide to jack their ship to escape. Luckily between the two heavies and the giant devaronian pirate they just released, they were able to intimidate them into just accepting a ride off planet. Nyla, meanwhile, fought the wookie’s cat beast in an enclosed tunnel and nearly died, but won a pretty hard solo battle, enabling her to pick up the Hutt contact and a delirious nautolan who she had a force feeling about. Eshi forgot he was a reptile and went out in the ice with no coat, then defeated his own personal corpsec bounty hunter’s attempts to come at him with robots. With great success, they headed back to rebel space, got paid, and received a message that their former imperial employer was officially fucking pissed at them. Also, the nautolan was force sensitive and having visions of the inquisitor who tried to murder Nyla. 

Faced with mounting tension and the inability to continue lying to each other, the team pretty much spilled all their secrets to each other in the absolute most fun room mate meeting I have ever witnessed. Nyla is a force sensitive ex-imperial pilot ace, TK has an extra personality, Eshi has an I-assassinated-a-king level bounty and a machine that tells the future, Thirteen (the bothan spy) knew all this and told no one, Brick likes light beer, etc. They decided they really need to murder the children’s TV spy master as their next move. Their bothan spy provided them with a dossier on him and his six lieutenants. Nyla and Thirteen went to go meet the spymaster and try to throw him off, and had to fight the stealth assassin lieutenant, which they survived. Eshi hacked the slicer lieutenant and stole her state of the art surveillance droids. Brick checked up on the Hutt-embedded spy and learned she was a pretty awful person. He also ended up scheduling a rematch with the douwutin he beat in the pit fight, who the Hutts later dropped a word in that they wouldn’t mind if he just happened to kill in that fight. The group’s one cop friend, a red-string and corkboard conspiracy melitto, got attacked by assassins, because the spies and the governor were working against each other. Nyla and TK accidentally killed the master of disguise spy lieutenant without realizing who he was. They turned the surveillance droids on the Hutts and found out the Hutt-embedded spy was working against the spymaster as well. 

The spymaster was scheduled to attend the Chancellor’s day gala on Naboo, which is fancy far outside of anything the party is probably capable of pulling off, but I wanted to give them the opportunity to try. One of the spy lieutenants there, a slimy alderaanean lesser noble, has found a packet of forbidden information that had been stolen and hidden there, and the spymaster is going in person for the hand-off. Rebuffing an offer from the planetary governor, the group made a very temporary alliance with the Hutt spy to kidnap the noble spy and use him to force a meeting with the spymaster on their terms. And that’s where we are now. 

___

All in all, I’m really pleased with how this is going. I’m having a lot of fun and my players are absolutely great. I’d... assumed that would take less time to type up, and it’s leaving out a whole lot of stuff. I started this in October, so that’s about seven months worth of weekly sessions. That it breaks pretty easily into arcs, I feel, speaks pretty well for what I’d intended of it. I have SO MANY FUCKING named NPCs. It’s over 50 at last count. Factions are helping a lot. Each faction has a main plot that’s going to move along no matter what the PCs do, hitting beats whenever I need something interesting for the background. 

I’d like to keep making some posts here about what I’ve learned, what’s worked and what hasn’t, and about each player and their character. I personally think it’s interesting, and it helps me collect my thoughts. But for now I think I’m going to bed. 

[bodyofvvater]

foil

last night i had to accept that luca and @arlessaofamaranthine‘s cosmas, my arch nemesis, defo hooked up, and also that i was defo gonna write about the aftermath, and now i’m putting the end product here where everyone can see it. it’s not my best writing and luca isnt Entirely in character (although that’s at least partially on purpose), but i had fun writing it, so here it is anyway

Luca spends more time looking for him than he would care to admit. At least he takes solace in cursing his name all the while.

Not twelve hours ago, Cosmas was in Luca’s room, a little disheveled and a lot out of breath. And Luca felt smug, letting Cosmas set the pace, knowing he thought he was in control--knowing he wasn’t at all. Afterward, Cosmas looked a particular kind of pretty, and Luca told him so knowing it would make a flush crawl up his neck. And then they drifted off to sleep, tangled up in each other yet careful not to let their hands touch. All par for the course; good bedside manner, as far as hooking up is concerned.

The problem was waking up. Cold in an empty bed, with none of the easy bickering of two friends who just did each other a very mutually beneficial favor. Maybe he should be upset; as it stands, Luca is mostly affronted.

And as if being left in his own bed isn’t bad enough, now Luca has to scour all of Skyhold looking for the son of a bitch.

Because--okay, maybe Cosmas sneaking out in the middle of the night isn’t as out of left field as he would like it to be. Luca knows Cosmas is about as far from straight as it gets. He’s not so sure Cosmas is aware of this himself.

It’s not even a week since they sat by one of the tables in the Great Hall, still chatting hours after everyone else had cleared out after dinner. And Luca mentioned growing up with no one like him around, not knowing that he wasn’t the only one. Cosmas offered a “that must have been hard for you” with all the sympathy of someone who had never had to think about it, and then that was that.

Luca might have believed him, if two drinks later Cosmas wasn’t practically straddling him, staring at his hands like he wanted to eat them.

Luca might let him, in a manner of speaking, if Cosmas hasn’t scared himself back into the closet.

It takes almost an hour of searching (why is this castle so huge?), but in the end, Luca finds him in the library. He’s practically folded in on himself, knees to his chest and chin resting on them, looking like he’s trying to blend into the chair Dorian usually occupies.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Luca wonders where the Inquisitor might have dragged Dorian off to; his active thoughts are mostly occupied with the sight in front of him. Much to his delight (and probably to the man in question’s dismay), Cosmas has done a piss poor job of not looking like he recently got fucked--if he’s tried at all. His blond hair is mussed and sticking up every which way, tangled where Luca vividly remembers his fingers clasping down. He’s got a hickey peeking up over the hem of his shirt--which appears to be unbuttoned halfway, if Luca isn’t mistaken.

He could waste time worrying about what to say. He’s not particularly fond of worrying, though, so he plunges right in.

“How long have you been here?” he asks, and tries not to snicker when Cosmas nearly jumps out of his own skin--this doesn’t exactly seem like the time to laugh at him. Later, he promises himself.

“Um…” Cosmas starts, and, okay, wow, speechless. That’s a new look on him. “I don’t know? Some… hours, maybe?”

Luca can’t resist a small scoff at that; he’s not perfect.

“Talk to me,” he says then, because he doesn’t know how else to broach this particular subject. Easier to let Cosmas do the talking.

Cosmas looks at him for a long, endless second. Luca thinks maybe it should make him weak in the knees; that might make this easier. If he could sit down next to Cosmas and take his hands and monologue about how much he loved him and how last night had meant the world to him. It isn’t true, but for a moment he considers saying it anyway, if Cosmas wants to hear it.

Instead, Cosmas speaks: “You’re a good man, Luca,” and Maker, it’s gonna be one of those speeches. “You’re a good man, and-- Our friendship is. Good.”

There’s a pause where Cosmas looks like he’s forgotten how to speak. Luca has the urge to chuckle again; he swallows it down.

“We--” Cosmas starts, then stops. A determined expression colors his features then, and he starts over; “Last night was a mistake.”

“Alright,” says Luca. Determination melts into confusion on Cosmas’s face; Luca has never realized how close the two can be.

“Just… alright?” he asks, hesitant. Like he’s scared he’s about to open up a can of worms he won’t know how to close again.

Luca saunters closer, leans against the bookcase across from where Cosmas sits. He doesn’t sit down; he likes that he’s the taller of the two in this position.

“Yes, alright,” he says, “What were you expecting? For me to plead for you to love me? Try to trick you back into bed?”

There’s a shameful silence before Cosmas sighs, “I… Maybe?”

Luca rolls his eyes; “Andraste’s ass, you’re pretty, but you’re not that pretty.”

A flash of something small and scared passes over Cosmas’s features, and Luca sort of wishes Delphine were here to tell him what that meant--but then he realizes that that would mean he’d have to tell her that he slept with Cosmas, and suddenly he sincerely hopes she’s on the other side of Thedas until he can destroy the evidence.

“It’s just that I’m… I’m not, you know, like that.”

At least he has the decency to look forlorn.

Luca suddenly feels a little sick, something cold and hard coiling in his stomach. If his pride wasn’t all he had, he might have walked away. Because it’s one thing to say you’re not into men, or that you didn’t enjoy a hook-up. Even that your friendship can never be the same.

Cosmas says it like it’s poison, and Luca knows exactly what it means. I’m not like that. I’m not like you. You’re not like me. You’re not like us.

Luca wears his best steely expression, tries to tell his rapidly beating heart to quiet. “I don’t appreciate your tone,” he says, and feels so much like his father that he could laugh if he wasn’t so angry. Or sad, or hurt, or whatever he is. It all seems to blend together.

“You know what I mean--”

“Yeah, I do,” Luca cuts him off. “I wish you didn’t.”

Cosmas looks apologetic at that. It feels like a consolation prize; Luca hates that it makes him feel a little better.

“It’s just,” Cosmas sighs, “I like women. That’s-- I always have.”

Luca rolls his eyes; “You can like both. Any. All.”

“But I don’t.”

“Forgive me for being a little skeptical,” Luca scoffs, “after having you begging in my bed not twelve hours ago.”

Cosmas crosses his arms. He looks like a petulant child. Good, Luca thinks, for once it’s not me.

“It was a mistake,” Cosmas reiterates. He looks desperate--a little crazed, maybe. Luca wants to ask why he’s this upset about it if last night truly meant nothing to him, but it feels like a waste.

“Alright,” he says again instead, “I’m not arguing that.”

“Then why are you arguing?”

“Because you’re being an ass about it!” Luca exclaims, a little louder than he was aiming for. If someone else is in the library, they certainly heard. He doesn’t care enough to look.

“I’m being an ass about it?” Cosmas asks, incredulous.

For a second, Luca thinks he sees him with the same lens Delphine does. Selfish, oblivious, destructive. A second, and then he’s back to Cosmas--a peer, a friend, and, as of last night, a lover. Both frustrate him endlessly.

“Yes, you,” he snaps. “I’m not a foil to your fragile masculinity. You jumped into bed with me as much as I jumped into bed with you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I’m not an animal. You don’t have to worry about me pouncing on you. But whatever crisis you’re having is yours to deal with--I don’t want the blame for it after you asked me to take you somewhere private.”

Cosmas goes quiet, and so does Luca, and then they’re just staring at each other.

Part of Luca knows he’s not being entirely fair. He remembers this; remembers feeling scared and alone and different, desperate for something he felt disgusting for indulging in. Reading every novel in the library at home, wondering how all the men fell in love with those women, how they made themselves do it. Mostly just wondering if they secretly fell in love with their best friends, their fellow soldiers, neighboring princes. If it was so secret the narrator didn’t even tell the reader.

He looks at Cosmas and sees a man who knows only what he wants when he has it, and spends every other moment depriving himself of it. It must be a tortured existence, Luca thinks sympathetically, all while imagining what words he could say to cut the deepest.

“I didn’t mean to imply…” Cosmas says then, sounding a little embarrassed. “I’m not-- You didn’t… take advantage of me.”

Relief washes over Luca, smothering a worry he didn’t know he had. Suddenly he feels like crying, a little bit.

“Okay,” he says instead, barely managing to keep his voice even. “Good. I’m glad.”

Slowly, Cosmas unfolds himself from where he’s been sitting curled up. He grimaces as he stands on stiff legs, and Luca almost grumbles as Cosmas is once again the taller of the two of them.

“Look,” Cosmas says with all the guilt and pity of someone trying to break up with a partner gently. Maker, no.

“Don’t,” Luca practically begs.

Cosmas, thankfully, shuts right up.

“I told you,” Luca continues, “I’m not in love with you, I’m not an idiot. Last night was fun. That’s it. That’s all it has to be.”

Cosmas hesitates. Seems to search for something in Luca’s face, body language, something. Luca wouldn’t be able to say what if his life depended on it, but whatever it is, Cosmas seems satisfied with his conclusion. He smiles--just barely, a tiny thing, but it makes Luca breathe easier all the same.

Then he sticks out a hand to shake, and Luca has to laugh.

“You want to shake on it?” he asks.

There’s still a nervousness to Cosmas as he chuckles. “I don’t know, it felt appropriate?”

“It most certainly isn’t,” Luca says, and shakes his hand anyway. It’s better than arguing.

[heartslogos]

newfragile yellows [536]

Bull watches Ellana as she walks around their camp, watching as the tents go up and keeping a mindful eye on their horses and druffalo to make sure that they’re being tended to properly. Bull tilts his head, watching her move, paying particular attention to the way her skirts move about her legs before approaching her.

“Lady wife,” Bull says. Ellana nods at him with a quick half-smile, before she turns her attention back to watching to see that the covers for their supplies are secured. It’s supposed to rain hard tonight, they could see the storm headed their way earlier as they descended into Ferelden proper. Hopefully the worst of it has already passed by the time it reaches them.

She’s been subdued ever since the news came from the Dales. It’s to be expected, and Bull wouldn’t have said anything if she decided to stay behind at Morrin rather than come with him. But Ellana is, worryingly, a little like him in that she throws herself into her duties to ignore the things that need to be dealt with. Emotionally speaking. And since Bull hasn’t got a leg to stand on in that regard he’s not going to say anything about that until someone who does comes along and he can tell them to talk to her.

He’s waiting for Evelyn Trevelyan, basically. Unfortunately it’s going to be a while before they see each other. They’ve got the whole Imperial Highway to Denerim for that, and while Bull isn’t going to rule out the possibility that Ellana sorts that out on her own, he’s also not going to hold his breath for it.

“If I were to lift up your skirts right now,” Bull says quietly, “Would our camp be more scandalized about the fact that I just lifted up your skirts or that you’re wearing armor underneath them, complete with knives?”

Ellana hits his arm lightly, snickering under her breath.

“You know I wear trousers underneath my skirts,” Ellana replies. “Everyone knows. That shouldn’t be shocking.”

“Leather and cloth trousers and trousers made of silverite bearing the style of the knights of the Dales are very, very different things, Ellana. You also don’t normally go around armed with knives.”

“I don’t usually find myself going through Fereldan roads,” Ellana points out. “Frankly, I’ve never actually been to Ferelden before so this is me preparing for the unexpected and unfamiliar. Could you fault me for that, lord husband, considering there was an assassination attempt in our very Keep only a scant few months ago?”

“Don’t you trust me to handle a few dog lords for you?” Bull asks, teasingly, taking her by the elbow and guiding her towards one of the tents set up for them. “Where’s your good cloak? The rain’s almost here, I can feel it.”

“In your old, old bones?” Ellana teases. “I’ll get it. Should I be asking you where your good cloak is? Stop fretting about me.”

“I’m not fretting.”

“You’re fretting,” Krem says, walking past them and dodging Bull’s swipe at his head with a laugh. “Relax, Chief. You doting on your lady wife is the best entertainment we’ve had since Rocky was abducted by giants.”

“Rocky was what?” Ellana asks, eyes wide, “Giants? Where were you in proximity to giants?”

“Where haven’t we be in proximity to giants?” Stitches asks. “We’re in proximity to giants so often it makes my guts hurt.”

“Everyone shut up,” Bull says. “Don’t you have work to do?”

-

Ellana wakes up to Bull quietly swearing. She brushes her hair out of her face, grimacing. It’s still dark out and even the dogs are still asleep — heavy weights towards the bottom of the bed near her feet.

“What? What’s wrong?” Ellana mumbles. “Is it your ankle? Your knee?”

“No,” Bull says, sounding much too awake for…whatever hour this is. And also angry? “Code breaking.”

“What about it?” Ellana asks, “A message from the Inquisitor? At this hour?”

“No,” Bull replies. “I fucking asked you if you knew anything about code breaking.”

Ellana’s mind is just a long string of question marks. She’s not quite sure what he’s upset about.

“What?” Ellana asks, exasperated as she hugs her pillow close, burying her face in it. “What ‘bout it?”

“I asked you if you knew anything about code breaking and then offered to teach you about ciphers and shit,” Bull says. “You were the fucking spymaster of an entire nation. And somehow I didn’t pick that shit up? What the fuck. Pardon my crassness. But what the fuck, Ellana.”

Ellana slowly turns her head, savoring every moment of dragging her skin across the sleep warm bedding as she slowly looks at him.

“This is…only dawning across you right now?” Ellana asks. “You didn’t know at the time. And I didn’t want to tell you. Is this — is this important? Are you honestly staying awake because of that?”

Bull’s hand finds her thigh, fingers splayed across the back of it as he lightly squeezes.

“I can’t believe I fucking…I asked you if you had an interest in code breaking. I was fucking teaching you the basics of cryptography. Like you were a novice. And you didn’t let it slip at all that you knew a single thing.”

He’s going to be like this until dawn and more, she knows it. Ellana sighs, reaching down to cover his hand with hers before rolling onto her side and firmly burrowing herself into her pillow and covers.

“Ellana. You let me talk to you like a fucking idiot.”

“Go to sleep,” Ellana mumbles.

“You played me.”

“Bull. Husband. Friend. Companion. Go the fuck to sleep.”

“How did you even keep that act up? How did you pretend like you didn’t know anything? How did you tone your skills down until you were a basic novice? We did practice cipher.”

Ellana groans as Bull nudges her.

“Ellana. Ellana, we spent almost an entire afternoon working on basic cipher. Just. Basic transcription. Ellana, you pretended like you were struggling with a book cipher.”

“I was a master of infiltration, sabotage, information gathering, and tactics, you think I that my talents as an actress are anything below sub-par? Bull. Go to sleep.”

[a-gay-bloodmage]

—Short Breeches—

Pairing: Blackwall x Male-Genderqueer Trevelyan (feat. one-sided Sera x “female” Trevelyan)

Pairing Type: F/M and a side of F/F

Words: 6,756

Warnings: Not Really but Still Kinda NSFW, Morally Grey Pranks, Mallie has a Lot of Issues, Mainly Involving Men, trying to help friends, some wholesome gal friendship, these kind of fics always start off as jokes and end up important, That’s How I Roll 

Mallory stared at the ceiling above him, watching the steam from his bath curl upward from the tub. His skin was slightly pink from the heat, but he didn't mind much. Today, he was taking his sweet time doing whatever he wanted. A facial mask he'd gotten from Vivienne had been applied to his soft skin, bathwater full of a rose-scented potion that kept the water warm for hours. He'd spent all of yesterday in sword training and all night doing paperwork that Josephine simply couldn't manage on her own. He ached for relaxation, but the problem with quietness and lack of activity was that his mind wandered.

I need another glass of wine, he thought, sighing as he watched the steam fog up the glass windowpanes. Maker, please, let me just get drunk and sleep for a few days... He couldn't help the fact that the stupid Warden was always on his mind. He'd been turned down—quite painfully—three days ago, and he was yet to get over it. Some bullshit about you're the Herald, and I'm just your soldier, and it'd be unprofessional, my Lady Inquisitor. Stupid stuff that shouldn't matter. He was thankful that nobody was in the room to see the unladylike pouting on his face. It was his second rejection in the brief time he'd been Inquisitor, but he was not giving up this time. Unlike Varric, Blackwall hadn't laughed kindly at his advances. It was a hard, but hesitant, rejection.

Stupid, bow-fucker dwarf. He was just thankful that Varric had decided that he wasn't below a friendship with the mighty Herald. Stupid, handsome Warden.

• • ♡ • •

He finally left the bathroom an hour or so later, a towel messily drying his long, pale blond hair. It was still morning, the sun about an hour from its zenith. He tossed his sleeping undergarments onto the bed to be put away later, took a swig from the open wine bottle on his nightstand, and walked to his wardrobe to pick an outfit for the day.

Tavern, cards with Varric and Bull, then- His thoughts halted as he realized that his armoire wouldn't open. Are you fucking kidding me? He thought, eyes wide. I have nothing but a towel! He looked at the doors, and noticed that they were sealed shut with a sort of white paste, and felt his face heat with annoyance and panic.

"Sera!" He hissed, running a hand through his hair. "Oh, Maker!" He stared down at his naked body, panic threatening to make him vomit. He felt dizzy. His masculine features were on full display.

Nobody in the Inquisition knew Mallory Trevelyan was a man except for Josephine. He'd cornered her with his sword beneath her chin and made her swear not to tell anyone what she knew after he'd learned that she'd done some snooping into the former noble's past.

"I'm gonna die," he whined, hands hugging himself. "I am so gonna die!" He cursed the fact that maids routinely kept his quarters neat and tidy, not finding a single piece of clothing on the floor anywhere.

He'd just resigned himself to the fact that he'd have to fall on his sword when a white piece of fabric caught his eye. He rushed to the corner of the room, where a throw pillow had been sneakily placed on a chair, hiding a small pile of clothing.

"Thank the Maker," he said out loud, smiling wide in relief as he pulled the pillow back.

He picked up the clothing, and felt all hope and faith fall out of him. There was nothing but a lacy white tank top and a pair of horribly mangled brown trousers. The once decent slacks had been cut severely, looking more like something found on a whore's floor. He wanted to cry as he thought of the fact that this was all he could wear.

His corset was, thankfully, in its usual place under his bed, and his fake breasts, tight tucking panties, and brassiere were still hidden away in the furthest corner of his nightstand. He finished off the small amount of wine he had left, trying to soothe his frayed nerves. He spent half an hour pulling himself together, opting for lighter makeup—as light as a man passing as a woman could afford, anyway. He stared at himself in the mirror and sighed.

His hair and makeup was right as always, a collar-like necklace covering the manish lump in his throat. The top was surprisingly decent, cut just high enough to keep anybody from questioning his fake tits. The abhorrent trousers were the real problem. He turned in the mirror, eyebrows high as he realized exactly how cut the slacks were. Half his ass hung out of them, and he could feel his genitals screaming at him from being tucked back so damn tight to keep his more masculine features from showing.

I am going to kill that girl.

• • ♡ • •

Sera all but cackled as she made her way back to the tavern, certain that the entire Inquisition would be on their knees praising her in no time. She casually tossed her knife in the air, catching it after it spun a few times. She kissed the sweet metal in thanks for its wonderful job at tearing up Mallie's ugly slacks. If anything, the Inquisitor herself should be thanking her for getting rid of the one thing in her wardrobe that wasn't baby pink or white. Inky really did have a pink problem.

She strode into the tavern like a newly crowned bastard king, taking a seat in the back where she wouldn't be noticed by someone on a quest to either kill her or thank her.

And now, I wait, she thought, smiling to herself.

Sure enough, just over half an hour later, the Inquisitor stormed into the tavern. The angle was teasing, and Sera regretted choosing to sit where she wouldn't get to see the full extent of her handiwork. Mallie looked around the tavern, her blue eyes utterly furious, and turned to make her way to the stairs to the second floor. Sera's eyes went wide, a jaw-dropped grin breaking out on her face as she knew she'd succeeded like she'd never succeeded before.

Mallie had a great ass. A really great ass. Her trousers and skirts weren't lying. Sera had managed to get the angle of the cuts just right, slit to make nearly everything hang out. Her skin was perfectly smooth, none of the usual human hair on the cellulite-free skin. Like a painting.

"Damn, Boss," Bull laughed, letting out a low whistle. "Didn't know you owned a pair of those!" The Iron Bull and Krem were in the corner by the stairs playing cards, with the Vint looking like he'd just seen Andraste Herself.

"Is Sera in her room?" Mallie asked, her sweet, low voice dripping with fake innocence.

"Not sure," Bull lied. "You should go check." He had seen Sera come in. It was obvious he wanted an excuse to watch her Her Holy Ladybits climb a flight of stairs with a pair of trousers running up her ass. Mallie huffed and climbed the stairs quickly, occasionally attempting to pull the remnants of the slacks from where they'd ridden up her butt. Sera pressed her lips together, trying to hold back her laughter. She quietly made her way over to Bull and Krem, who looked like they'd just made a mess of their pants.

"You're welcome," she whispered. Krem held a hand to his chest and nodded solemnly.

"Thank you for your service," Bull said, nodding. "You've done us all a huge, jiggly favor." Sera snorted out a laugh, and instantly heard loud footsteps on the second floor. "I think Krem here Krem-ed his pants." Sera felt her face heat from trying to hold back loud laughter.

"Sera!" Mallie yelled, her painted face looking like she was ready to kill someone. "I am going to kill you!" Sera liked it when she was right.

"Gotta catch me first!" She hollered, already halfway out the door. She cackled as she led the Inquisitor out of the tavern, her laughter slowing her down slightly. And Mallie was fast. She caught up after a minute, grabbing the elf by her waist and throwing her over her shoulder. Inky and Cassandra were probably equal when it came to muscle, with Mallie just a few inches taller than the Seeker and her arms and shoulders a little bigger.

"Inquisitor!" An uptight voice yelled. "What are you doing?"

"Uh..." Sera laughed as she was held, weakly kicking as she gave the Seeker a great view of her legging-clad ass. "I found the person who ruined my trousers." Sera attempted to reach down and touch Inky's butt, her arms falling just slightly short.

"Well," Cassandra sighed. "I do hope you're going to get to work as soon as you've scolded her," she said.

"Yeah, yeah," Mallie groaned. "It'll just take a second." She turned, hauling the elf back to the tavern.

"Like your new shorty shorts, Inky?" She asked, grinning as she looked back at the Inquisitor.

"Not at all, Sera," she said, her pink lips in a deep frown. "Not. At. All."

"That stick up your butt is really up there, isn't it?" Sera asked, giggling. "Shoved real deep up your anny!" She felt herself being carried up the stairs and tossed onto her padded windowsill.

"Get your bow," Mallie said. "You're coming with me to go seal breaches."

"What?" Sera groaned. "Just over a dumb prank?" She sighed and picked up her bow, filling her quiver with arrows.

"I would've invited you along as a friend, but now you're my prisoner," Mallie said, shaking her head. Her hair was done up all cute in a bun made of a big braid, two little locks of her hair pinned cutely to frame her more angular face. "Seriously, Sera," the Inquisitor sighed. "Why?"

"Because," Sera shrugged, putting on her gear.

"Because why?"

"Because it's fun!" Sera drawled. "Ugh, you're so much better when you're boozed!" Bits of blush showed on Mallie's ears.

She didn't say anything as she left the room, Sera in tow.

"Bull, you're coming with me," she said. "There's some breaches that need sealing."

"Do you have any idea how many innuendos were in those two sentences?" The qunari laughed. Mallie's ears were bright red.

"Nice!" Sera laughed, holding up her hand to give Bull a high five. He smiled as their hands smacked together. "Ha, breaches," she said to herself, shaking her head. "Nice." Bull picked up his weapon, and Krem waved the three off, his eyes never leaving Inky's backside. Sera couldn't blame him. They stopped by the armory to get Mallie's sword and shield, Bull and Sera making sure to stay behind the Inquisitor.

This really was the best prank ever. Sera figured she had a decent crush on Mallie, but, then again, so did half of Skyhold. She didn't blame them. Mallie Trevelyan was a perfect figurehead for the Inquisition—almost always sweet and nice, wore cute, frilly things, yet still looked great in armor, and, not to mention, her body was damn fantastic. She was six feet tall, with bright blue eyes and pale, silky blonde hair. Her arms were beautifully muscled, and her shoulders were fairly broad, but they still didn't look too manly on such a gorgeous woman—she looked like a damn warrior goddess. Her waist was perfectly pinched in, but Sera knew she wore a corset or something after the first time she'd punched her. On accident. But the best part of Mallie was her ass. All big and smooshy, perfectly muscled after years of sword training. Sera really wanted to grab it.

Mallie's only problem—that Sera knew of, at least—was her taste in men. She liked big, burly, manly men with thick cocks who could, in her own drunken words, build me a fucking log cabin, Sera. Men like Varric and Blackwall. The real problem arose when Varric wasn't interested in a relationship, and when Blackwall was too obsessed with being noble and honorable to bang her. Mallie had cried in the tavern for about two hours after she'd been rejected by the Warden, with Sera by her side as she lost herself in pint after pint of beer. It was sad, really, how much a pretty girl like her needed other people to think she was pretty. Really sad.

Sera and Bull watched as the Inquisitor got more and more antsy as they made their way to the stables, with Mallie constantly trying to discreetly fix her clothing. Everyone knew she still had a thing for Blackwall. It was painfully obvious.

"Hey," she called out, peeking around the door frame of the barn. Blackwall looked up from his current woodworking project. It looked like another child's toy.

"Ah, what do you need, my Lady?" He asked, brushing sawdust and wood chips off of himself.

"Do you know where the stable boy is?" She asked. "I haven't seen him around." Blackwall chuckled.

"Broke his foot yesterday," he said. "Dropped a salt block on 'imself."

"Oh," Mallie said, still covering her lower half with the edge of the doorway. "I hope he's okay..."

"He'll be back in no time," Blackwall said. "I can set you up, if you like, my Lady." Mallie smiled shyly at that.

"That'd be wonderful!" She said. Sera turned to Bull, pretending to gag at the obvious flirtation between the two. Bull smiled and shook his head in amusement. Mallie carefully followed after Blackwall once his back was turned.

"One for you, Bull, and Sera, eh?" He asked, walking over to where the horses were kept. Sera hated horses. They were too tall and looked too weird. "Glad we've got Mountie, then," he said. "Only one who can handle a qunari." Bull chuckled. Sera stayed clear of the massive horse.

"You want to come with us, Beardy?" Sera asked. Mallie's head whipped around to look at her, charcoal-lined eyes wide. "We've got breaches to check out." Sera's eyes found Mallie's butt again. "A whole lot of breeches." Blackwall turned after adjusting a strap, obviously not trusting Sera's tone.

"What do you... oh my," he said, noticing Mallie's awful trousers for the first time. "Did something happen, my Lady?" Mallie's ears were bright red, her shoulders even managing to turn pink.

"I'm fine," she said quickly, trying to pull the short, short trousers down to no avail. "Sera ruined my clothing this morning."

"I'd offer you something to cover up, but I'm not sure a lady would want a man's clothing," he said awkwardly, the skin above his beard pink. Sera watched the encounter, trying to fight the urge to scream. As much as she liked Mallie, she was desperate to just shove Blackwall's manbits into Mallie's ladybits and get everything over with. 

"Don't give her anything!" Sera said quickly. "A prank's a prank and has to be fully carried out—no outside intervention!" She paused. "And your clothes smell all gross," she added, snickering. "Like a barn." Blackwall cleared his throat awkwardly and resumed dressing the horses.

"Well, if you're going to go closing breaches, I'd like to come along, especially if you're wearing... less than adequate clothing, my Lady," he said.

You just wanna see her butt, Sera thought. Weird old beardy man. She tuned out their awkward conversation, leaning against Bull's side nonchalantly. Can't blame him, though.

They began to ride out, but Varric stopped them before they could leave, telling them that he'd been instructed by Cassandra to come along. Something about needing breach documentation. Mallie sighed and told him to ride with Bull. Sera looked back at him questioningly, and he had just held up his journal and a quill.

Sera loved it when her pranks made history.

• • ♡ • •

Finally, the five were riding their horses out the gate and down the mountainside. Mallie knew where to go—some dumb little town an hour's ride from Skyhold and another hour's walk to the stretch of countryside they needed to get to—so they all let her lead.

"So, what's with the lack of pants, Girly?" Varric asked a few minutes into the ride.

"Sera, a knife, and some sort of paste to shut my wardrobe," she groaned. "Why is everyone intent on knowing about this?" Varric laughed, shaking his head.

"Hey, I'm just here to help," he said. "And really? You couldn't just muscle the doors open?" Mallie mumbled something Sera hardly heard. "What was that?"

"I didn't want to break the wardrobe," she said. "It's really nice... and expensive." Bull, Sera, and Varric all laughed at her shy tone, with Blackwall simply nodding in agreement.

"With those biceps of yours, I wouldn't doubt you could snap some nice oak doors clean off, Girly," Varric said. Mallie's pink ears turned a darker red. Sera had noticed that over the time she'd know Inky, comments about her arms had always rubbed her the wrong way.

Don't know why, she thought, staring at the Inquisitor's muscles. She should be proud of those... I'm jealous! She hated how string-bean-y her elven arms always insisted on being, despite the fact that she was always using a longbow.

The five of them made light conversation as they rode, with Mallie staying surprisingly quiet. She was usually the most talkative one, always waving her hands about and being excited over dumb stuff. Sera and the men always found their eyes drifting to the front, watching Mallie bounce on her horse. Her posture was real noble-like, all practiced and perfect, while Sera worked to remain upright as her bony backside rutted against the saddle.

• • ♡ • •

"I friggin' hate horses," Sera said, rubbing the inside of her thighs. "Hurt like hell!" Her crotch was sore in the worst way, and she fought the urge to rub her palm against it.

"I agree," Bull grumbled, handing the reins of his towering beast to Blackwall. "I'd much rather use my own damn feet." Varric shook his head in a sort of disbelief.

"You people have no sense," he laughed. "I'd take a horse over having to walk miles on foot any day."

"That's because your legs are as long as my pinky toe," Bull said.

"Exactly." Sera turned to complain to Mallie, and forgot all discomfort as she watched the Inquisitor grope her own butt, probably trying to knead out the soreness.

"Nice show, Inky!" She laughed, watching Mallie jump, her hands suddenly at her side. Bull and Varric turned to look. "Hey! Why'd you stop?"

"I have no idea what you're on about," she said, readjusting the shield slung across her back. "We should start walking."

Sera stuck out her tongue. "Lead the way, then, oh beautiful, own-butt-groping Herald!" Mallie rolled her pretty blue eyes as she passed Sera, the rest of the little party falling in behind her. Several minutes passed in silence before anyone spoke.

"You know, Varric," Bull said, "I believe I asked you before how you don't get the asses mixed up when you shoot." Sera muffled a laugh behind her hand, knowing exactly where the conversation was going. Bull was staring straight at Inky's backside. "I see now that some would be... hard to mistake." Mallie kept facing forward so that they couldn't see her, but Sera knew she was getting all squirmy.

"Knock it off, you two," Blackwall sighed. "I'm sure you're making her mighty uncomfortable."

"Hey," Bull smiled. "If Mallie has a problem with it, she hasn't hesitated to speak up before."

"Yeah," Sera added. "You're not all prissy-like, are you, Inky?"

"No, but I am confused as to why you're all so intent on staring at my ass," she said. "Talking about it, too."

"Hey, you look good in those shorty-things," Sera laughed. "Real good..." Blackwall seemed to be getting slightly sweaty at the topic of conversation, and Sera knew his eyes were on the Inquisitor.

"I feel naked."

"Naked is good, yeah?" Sera said. "Especially when you're all smooshy like you are! Me naked is... meh. I'm all bony bits and little elf-y knockers."

"Sera, please, I look far better in a nice, long, baby pink dress," she smiled, shaking her head. "Not these brown rags that cover less than half my ass."

"Can we vote on who's right, then?" Sera laughed. "I'll go first! I say Inky naked would be way better than Inky in some dumb, frilly, nob-y dress."

"I'd like to make an informed decision," Bull said. "See both my options before making such an important choice." It was obvious his answer was naked. Varric nodded.

"For her sake, I'll say the dress," he said, smiling.

"Alright, Beardy," Sera grinned, running up to the Warden's side. "You can either be right or say dress." Mallie looked back over her shoulder at him.

"This is hardly appropriate," he said, manly cheeks all lit up pink. "Can't we talk about jousting, or something?"

"Naked it is, then!"

"I didn't say that."

"Nope," she smiled. "You implied you wanted to see Inky's ladybits. Implied, yeah?"

"Sera, please, nobody wants to see me naked," Mallie laughed.

Finally, she's sounding like the same ol' stupid Inky! Sera thought. "You've got no idea, do ya?" She asked, laughing.

"What?"

"I didn't think you'd have to be Ben-Hassrath to know half the Inquisition is drooling over you, Boss," Bull laughed in that low laugh of his. Mallie froze, turning around.

"What?" Her eyes were wide, jaw slightly open. Sera wanted that stupid expression on the Inquisitor's face to be immortalized in a painting. "You're joking."

"Come on, Girly," Varric chuckled. "Really, you're the Herald, six feet tall, blonde, all starry blue eyes and sweeter than a bag of sugar!" Mallie turned back around and kept walking.

"Says the man who turned me down real hard," she said, her voice joking, but still slightly bitter.

"I've got Bianca, don't take it personally," he said, laughing. "I'm surprised you haven't jumped at all the opportunities ol' Tiny's been tossing out."

Mallie laughed. "I'd rather keep my innards in one piece," she said. "And besides, I prefer somebody who won't just slap me with a belt and call it sex."

"Low blow, Boss." Sera laughed at that. She'd heard all sorts of gossip about the kind of weird, kinky stuff Bull was into. It was all too complicated for her. Sex shouldn't need fancy rules to be fun.

"She'd probably jiggle," Sera laughed. "If you slapped 'er butt with a belt!"

"Sera, don't even think about it," Mallie said, a smile on her pink lips.

"What? You're not some qunari, you can't tell me what to think!" She laughed. "If I wanna think about slapping your butt, you can't stop me! See? Thinking about it right now!" Maker's tits. Now I really do wanna slap her butt.

"Bull, could you please restrain her before I end up with a hand print?" Bull laughed.

"I'm no arishok, Boss, and she's a loose cannon."

"Sera," Blackwall sighed. "I can't believe I have to say this, but will you please not touch the Herald's backside?" Sera laughed and ran forward, landing a solid smack on Mallie's ass. The Inquisitor let out a low groan before promptly slapping her hand over her mouth.

"Did it!" She laughed. "And it does jiggle! A lot!"

"Sera!" Blackwall hissed, looking deeply offended on behalf of his lady. Or, at least, his should-be lady.

"You should try it! She's so smooshy!" He gave her a stern glace and shook his head.

"I am a soldier in the Inquisition's ranks, not a teenage boy," he said. He glanced over at the two other men who were attempting to hide their laughter. "Though it seems I'm the only mature man here." He stepped close behind Mallie, blocking Sera's view of the nice red mark on Inky's butt. "Are you alright?"

"It's nothing," she said, ears red. "Really."

"Been smacked harder, Boss?" Bull asked.

Mallie turned back to glare at him. Her lips curled up into a dark smile. "Yes, I have." Varric raised an eyebrow at that.

"And would you be willing to describe that encounter, Girly?" He asked. "In detail. It's for... documentation. As per the Seeker's orders."

"I doubt you'd want to hear those details," she laughed. "It'll leave your... ears sore for a week." She never seemed to get mad at anything. Thank the Maker.

"Now you've gotta tell!" Sera complained. "You can't say something like that and not finish it!"

"What if I like being a bit of a mystery?" She asked, her voice all smooth and sexy. Sera couldn't help but be jealous of how easy it was for Mallie to be charming.

"You're an open book, Girly," Varric commented. "Wear your heart on your sleeve, your ass out your pants, and so on and so forth." Mallie only shook her head with a smile.

"You're all so immature," she said. "Seems like it's just you and me, Blackwall." 

"Seems so, my Lady," he sighed, a smile beneath his beard.

Ugh. Flirty idiots.

• • ♡ • •

The rifts were baby rifts. At least, that's what Mallie called them. Sera preferred waste of our frigging time.

"Tell me again why you made us come here?" She groaned, firing an arrow and hitting a tiny something-demon right between its weird, bulging black eyes. It shriveled up and died after a second of high-pitched screaming. "These rifts are piss."

"I didn't ask to be out here, you know," she said, sighing as she sat down on the grass. The red mark on her ass was still slightly there, but had been fading. "Cassandra wanted me to finish them off before they got any bigger." She leaned back, lying down with her left arm stretched out to the side. The anchor pulsed slightly.

Sera sat down near her, falling back slowly until she was using Mallie's stomach as a pillow. Her face scrunched up slightly.

"Either your butt's the only smooshy bit you've got, or you've got abs of steel!" She sat up, looking down at Mallie's stomach. It was hard, and probably a corset. But why Mallie wore a corset on a mission full of walking made her head hurt. Nobody normal would ever do that. She moved to lift her shirt, but felt an iron grip wrap around her wrists.

"I can put up with people seeing my ass," she said. "But I draw the line at my stomach." Sera frowned.

"How come?" She was frustrated. Mallie was always so weird. She didn't make sense. As soon as anybody did one little thing they didn't know was wrong, Mallie was different. Defensive. Like someone caught in a huge lie.

"Because, if it's not obvious, I don't particularly like my body," she said, standing up and letting Sera go. "We should start the walk back to town." The three men stood up from the grass, all watching the exchange. Mallie made her way ahead, not seeming to care that she was leaving everyone in her dust.

"I don't get it," Sera huffed. "She's got all that body and she doesn't even like it." Nobody said anything, and nobody moved to hasten their pace to catch up with the Inquisitor. "She's got great legs, and a great ass, and a curvy waist, and muscles, and pretty makeup, and pretty hair and she doesn't even like it!"

"Some people dislike the body they were born into for no reason at all," Bull sighed. "It's just something in their head they can't fix, Sera."

"Varric, when we get back to Skyhold, I want you to get that creepy ghost boy-thing and lock her in a room with it and let me listen," she muttered. "I wanna know why she hates her stupid, pretty self."

"Calm down, Buttercup," Varric said, "you can't force those things out of people. She'll tell you when, or if, she wants."

"It's not fair. I tell Inky everything."

"Everybody has to have some secrets," Varric said. "But you only wind up hurting yourself and them if you try to pry too much. It's all about patience, Buttercup." Sera crossed her arms, watching Mallie walk ahead with those perfect legs and that perfect butt.

"It's still not fair," she said. "How Inky thinks she's not perfect when she is. She's the, the friggin' Herald! Of Andraste!"

"Hmm," Varric hummed. "I'd say that somebody said something a long time ago that stuck like salt in a wound," he said. "Maybe your arms are pretty manly or you're too damn tall for a lady."

"That's a shitty backstory," she huffed. "She's all strong and pretty. Words shouldn't hurt her like that. Maybe she's got some gross scar on her stomach or something. Is that it?"

"Who knows?" Varric said. "I'm an author, not a mind reader, Buttercup. I make up stories." Sera huffed and looked over at Blackwall.

"This is all your fault."

"How is any of this my fault?" He asked, brows knotting together. "I've hardly done a thing this whole time."

"You made her cry, you know," she said, crossing her arms like a child. Blackwall's eyes went wide at that. "When you up and spat on her feelings."

"I did no such thing," he said, frowning deeply.

"Yes you did!" She couldn't help but be angry. Mallie was her friend, and back in the Jennys, friends stuck up for their friends. And she was a Jenny to the core. "You went and told her you were too, too noble and shit to be with her!" Blackwall stared straight ahead, his eyes avoiding the Inquisitor. "And she cried for hours!" Sera could see him shrinking into himself.

"Buttercup, calm down," Varric said, moving between the two. "I'm sure she doesn't like being talked about so literally behind her back."

"He deserves to know how he made Inky feel," she grumbled.

"Sera, leave him alone," Mallie called out from the front. "It's not his fault I can't handle being turned down." She waved her hand dismissively at the thought, trying to laugh off the definitely-not-a joke.

"Fine," she said, glaring at the dirt. "But you can't stop me from being mad at him." Mallie sighed, shaking her head.

"I know," she said. "But please, don't go thinking that me crying over someone is anything new. It happens like, once a week." Sera hated it when she talked like that. She deserved to be happy with someone. She didn't deserve to be turned down and lose herself in beer over and over again. Sera glared at Blackwall, and she knew he saw her from out the corner of his eye, even if he was trying to ignore her. She didn't like having to pick one friend over another. 

She was going to help make things right.

• • ♡ • •

Meet me in the tavern at sundown, please.

She tossed the crinkled up note through the barn door, making sure it hit him before running. She'd used her best handwriting, making sure it was all loopy and cute. That's what Mallie's handwriting surely looked like.

I'd like to meet you in the tavern at sundown, my Lady.

She folded the note carefully, and knocked on the door twice before bolting down the hallway, grinning to herself. Blackwall's handwriting was probably practiced and professional, but still a little messy.

The two had been dancing around each other for a week, at least, and Sera's most recent prank only made it obvious nobody was going to be happy until they knocked bits.

She sat down in the midst of the Chargers, nabbing a beer from Dalish. The tattooed elf raised an eyebrow at her, but didn't say anything about it. She put her boots up on the table, leaning back in her chair.

"What's got you all stoic?" Bull asked, looking over from his chair.

"I'm waiting," she said. "Mallie and Beardy are getting on my nerves and I'm going to fix it."

"And how's that?" Bull chuckled. "It's not like you can just wave a staff and make all their sexual tension vanish." He seemed quite interested in her plan.

"Friggin' wish I could," she laughed, rolling her eyes. "Hey, elfy!" She elbowed Dalish in the arm. "You got any spells to get people knocking bits?"

"You speak as if I'm an apostate, Sera," she laughed. "Don't you recognize a fellow bowman?"

"Oh, ha ha," Sera said, taking a sip of her stolen beer. "Notes and shit can only go so far."

"Notes?" Bull asked, seeming intrigued.

"Meet me in the tavern at sundown, please," she said, trying to mimic Mallie's low, sultry tone. "Oh, dear Warden Blackwall, I love you so much and I feel my wet, pump ladybits throbbing every time I see you!" Bull laughed loudly at the stupid impersonation, and Dalish hid a laugh behind her fingers. "My Lady Inquisitor, meet me in the tavern at sundown, I must confess how I feel about you!" She pressed her two longer locks of blonde hair to her face as she spoke in a poor imitation of Blackwall. "I need your sweet, surely beautiful ladybits so badly!"

"Writing fake letters, eh?" Bull asked, shaking his head with a smile. "Certainly crafty, I'll give you that."

"Oh shove it, I couldn't think of anything else," she said, sticking her tongue out. "All their stupid flirting is driving me stinking mad!" Nobody disagreed.

Mallie was the first to arrive as the sun touched the horizon, all dolled up and looking decently nervous. She sat down at the bar, her thin skirt carefully tucked underneath her. Sera couldn't help but feel a little disappointed she didn't keep the trousers on, and had obviously found out that getting the paste on the wardrobe wet would undo it. She ordered a pint of beer for herself, seeming upset that Blackwall hadn't stuck to his supposed word and refused to come.

Fifteen minutes passed, and Sera was pushing back her chair to go sit with the lone Inquisitor when Blackwall stepped into the tavern. The sun seemed to be just about set. They obviously had differing versions of sunset. His eyes scanned the tavern before landing on Mallie, alone at the bar. He gave her a gentle wave, and sat down to her right. She said something Sera couldn't hear over the noise of the room, but they both look equally amused and confused. Mallie ordered Blackwall a dark ale. He seemed to thank her, smiling. They spent several minutes chatting, exchanging grossly pining looks that made Sera audibly groan. Thankfully, neither seemed to hear her. Mallie seemed shy, always rubbing her covered arms like she was trying to make them disappear. Blackwall was leaning against the bar, occasionally running his hand through his beard as Mallie talked.

"It's going well," Bull said, a soft smile on his face. "It's almost cute." Sera looked over at him, and could tell he knew something that she didn't. "Though she seems to be the most hesitant one in all this."

"That so, Cheif?" Dalish asked, narrowing her eyes. "Blackwall looks like the more nervous one. The Herald is, uh, casual-er?"

"They both look like idiots," Sera huffed. "Just bang it out in the back, already!" She said under her breath, making Bull and Dalish smile.

"Well, Blackwall seems to be the one thinking that," Bull grinned. Sera's face lit up. "See? He's tense, like he wants to just kiss her and get it over with, honor be damned. Admirable."

"Then why don't they?"

Bull sighed. "There's no way Mallie's going to accept that. She's too nervous." Sera hung her head back over the chair, groaning.

"She's probably got great bits," she huffed. "Bet it's all smooth like the rest of her." Dalish nodded, smiling like she was picturing it. Sera admired her taste.

"I wouldn't bet that it isn't," Bull chuckled, shaking his head. He narrowed his eye at them, and Sera returned her attention to the should-be couple. Mallie had finished her pint, and was nervously tucking an unbraided strand of hair behind her ear. Blackwall was saying something, incredibly quietly, looking nervous. He finished and looked up at Mallie. She smiled softly, her cheek resting on her hand as she leaned on the bar. She said something obviously sweet, this softness and understanding in her eyes so clearly visible from across the room. Her pink, painted lips were shimmering in the orange light of the tavern, gloss like rippling water as she talked. Blackwall was lucky to witness it so close.

He should be grateful. Sera wasn't jealous. She really, truly wasn't. Her infatuation with Mallie was one-sided, and she knew that. She didn't mind. As long as he made Mallie happy, she was content to just be her friend. And if he lets her down, I'll always be there to put my tongue up her ladybits, she thought, smiling to herself. Mallie looked out the far window, and her eyes went wide, seeming to realize that they'd been in the tavern for quite some time. She hastily said something to Blackwall, and, obviously instinctively, kissed him on the cheek before leaving. Her ears went red in embarrassment, and she quickly left the building, skirt bouncing as she moved. Aha! Kisses! Sera was excited, and swiftly removed her feet from the table, shooting a grin to Bull and Dalish, who both looked quite content. She left the mug on the table and bounced over to Blackwall, who looked to be in a state of shock that his left cheek now had a pink mark on it.

"You're welcome," she whispered, making him jump.

"For what?" He asked, seeming confused. "Have you been watching us talk?"

"Inky, and yes!" She whispered excitedly, sitting down in Mallie's seat. "She kissed you!"

"I am... aware," he said, lightly touching his cheek. "What did you do?" His eyes narrowed. "If this was a prank, I swear-!"

"No! Not a prank, I promise!" She said. "Well, maybe I wrote some notes, but-"

"You wrote that?" He asked.

"Yep! Gave one to Inky, too." She stuck her tongue out at his indignant look. "What? It's not like either of you would've said anything if I didn't! You would've just danced around each other and pretended that you didn't just want to bump bits and make out until you died!" He didn't waste breath denying the accusation. "So, what'd you talk about?"

"That's private, Sera."

"Beardy! Tell me!"

He sighed, shaking his head. "She just, she said that she didn't care about honor. It doesn't matter to her. She just... she doesn't care about me being her soldier. Or a Warden. Or anything. She's just... fond of me."

"It's because of the beard," Sera whispered, smiling. He raised a bushy eyebrow. "She really likes beards." He shook his head, laughing under his breath.

"Should've figured," he said, waving a hand about. "Just the beard, eh?" Sera laughed.

"And all your chest hair," she said, enjoying the fact that she could drop little bits of gossip. A friend having a stupid crush was no fun if you couldn't tell the crush about it. "She thinks it's all hot and manly," she said, rolling her eyes. "I think it's gross! Blegh!" She pretended to gag. Blackwall laughed. It was nice seeing him laugh. He looked much better when he wasn't all broody. A lot more fun to talk to, too.

"Ah, well, I'm glad she likes it," he said. He sighed, looking off into space above her head. "Maker, she's something, isn't she?"

"Yeah, she's a weirdo," Sera smiled. Oh, he's so friggin' in love it's gross!

"She's not only sweet, but Maker, is she beautiful or what?" Sera kept quiet. She was totally going to tell Mallie everything he said. "Just, those muscles, and those eyes, and, oh, doesn't she look amazing in battle?"

Sera nodded. "And her butt?"

"Great butt," he said dumbly. "Fantastic butt." Sera was ecstatic. Mallie would be so happy to hear this. He shook his head, seeming to pull himself out of the clouds. "I should get to bed," he said, groaning as he stood, leaving a few silvers on the counter for the barman. "See ya tomorrow, Sera."

"Later, Beardy!" He gave her a casual salute and left.

Mallie is going to be so damn happy.

[tristinai]

"16. things you said with no space between us" with Cullrian

Of course, I would be given a prompt that just begs to be smut and turn it into angst =P

“I love you.”

He stops, hands lingering over the pale flesh they had been tracing. He feels the Commander—hard and aching in his trousers, hips trapped beneath the still fully clothed mage straddling him—but it’s those words, whispered softly in a moment of reckless impulse, that makes Dorian abandon his task of disrobing his current bed mate.

With no space between them, there’s only one place for those words to go: they press to his lips as the mage breathes heavily, a confession spoken without abandon, as earnest in its delivery as every other awe-laced remark the Ferelden has ever made in the midst of their intimacy. Maker, you’re amazing or You’re unlike any other man I’ve met are words that Dorian could preen to, relish in his self-proclaimed prowess beneath the sheets.

But this?

He doesn’t quite know what to do with…this.

He looks down into Cullen’s eyes, heart hammering so loudly it’s deafening, the roiling thunder of an oncoming storm. He sees sincerity where he expects deception, words he’s heard before in his more vulnerable youth, a tool as a means to lure him into a false sense of security, make him believe he’s worth more than the occasional tumble in bed, to keep him coming, keep him devoted to a game he’s become more reluctant to play because he always loses.

And when he loses, it’s always more than another handsome face to bed. What little hope he had for being worth another man’s heart died months before he began this illicit affair with the Inquisition Commander. Trevalyan saw to that, discarding the mage quite carelessly after having his fill of him.

Dorian’s been broken more times than he can count. And he’s not about to let someone else do that to him again.

“You must forgive my horrible carelessness,” the mage says, forcing a laugh and pointedly ignoring what was just said. He dislodges himself from the Commander, nearly crashing into the desk behind him, leaving Cullen seated and looking somewhat confused and hurt. “I’m in the middle of some research and as much as I like a good distraction, I really should get back to it.”

A distraction.

That’s all Cullen is.

Distractions don’t fall in love with the disgraced sons of magisters.

Before he lets the Commander say anything, Dorian’s already out the main entrance, feet carrying him swiftly to the battlements. He may have heard his name called but it’s easy to convince himself it’s just the wind, that the disappointment he had seen in the ex-templar’s eyes had been from walking out before either could get off, and not from the silent rejection of Cullen’s affections.

Dorian knows there’s only one way this could end. And so help him, if it means ignoring the way his heart flutters every time the Commander so much as looks at him, then the mage will do just that.

He has a very selfish and keen interest in protecting that which has already been shattered beyond repair.

Ignoring Cullen is easy.

Ignoring his own guilt, a betrayal of those desires he’s forced to bury…well, that’s another beast entirely.

Each morning he wakes up ridiculously late, spends an equally ridiculous amount of time meticulously preparing himself to face another day in Skyhold, and then takes the most roundabout way from his private quarters to the library, all in avoidance of certain parties.

He hardly gets dragged out of Skyhold these days, the tension between him and Trevelyan enough to leave their companions walking on eggshells when the two of them so much as greet each other. And with the way the Iron Bull loves to flirt at the most inappropriate of times or pry into the mage’s psyche (often, some combination of both), Dorian has to ignore the lure of alcohol and drown soberly into his own state of misery he’s put himself in.

With his most recent bed mate lost, that leaves only one distraction: books.

“Another blasted account on Tevinter history by that damned Brother Genitivi…oh, how lovely, a collection of Divine Joyous the Second’s sermons on the Tevinter clergy,” Dorian mumbles, picking though the titles and tossing each of the offending books somewhere behind him. He normally isn’t so abusive, even with “knowledge” that lacks any objectivity and subjugates readers to a biased and skewed perspective on Thedosian history, but this isn’t what he had in mind when he asked for books on Tevinter.

“Ow.”

Dorian freezes, finger brushing the leather spine of another book he’s preparing to toss off the shelf.

He smells it then: elderflower and oakmoss, hears the footfall of heavy boots that stop just behind him. It’s enough to make his pulse begin to race, heat that percolates low in his abdomen whenever he’s heard that voice moan and gasp, groan his name each time he’s made the man come undone by his own tongue and hand. It makes him want to turn around and sink into the Ferelden’s arms, their audience be damned, because this is the one luxury he’s allowed himself, even when the whispers gossip of how that fucking Tevinter has corrupted ‘noble’ men like the Inquisitor and Dorian knows better than to let such poison tarnish the hard-earned respect of someone like Cullen Rutherford.

Cullen, who he has made believe harbors unrequited affection in the week since he began his vigil of ignoring the Commander.

Dorian feels it then: the panic, the urge to flee, because he may say he wishes to become a better man but he knows deep down that he’s a coward and if there’s one thing he can’t do, it’s feelings.

But he can’t move. He’s trapped in this purgatory of everything left unsaid and knows that if he turns to face the Ferelden, his resolve will crumble and he will give in once again, diligently remaining at Cullen’s side until the Commander also inevitably becomes bored of him.

Dorian knows there’s nothing about himself worth loving. So why entertain such delusions?

“If my presence here offends you so much, I suggest a weapon more terrifying than Divine Joyous the Second’s sermons,” the Commander says lightly, reaching around Dorian to place the book back on the shelf. His hand hovers close to where the mage’s rests on the book beside it, his breath tickling the back of Dorian’s neck. “It’s said Beatrix the First was a shrewd woman and could put the fear of the Maker in you. Had you tossed that at me,” and he indicates to a book not far from Dorian’s hand, on the Divine’s writings, “I’d have run out of here in fear of my life.”

It’s a poor attempt at a joke, bringing levity to a tension so thick, the mage nearly chokes on it when he shakily inhales. And he regrets it immediately: this close, he not only feels Cullen’s warmth behind him but gets a good whiff of the man and it only stirs that ache for him.

“Divine Pladius,” Dorian says, ignoring the desire to bring their hands together, feeling lost and helpless as his tone remains cool, the storm in his chest one that silently rages, “Not that I would expect to find such writings on that heretic here in the south but the man wielded Andrastian guilt more devoutly than a qunari warrior their sword. He was said to have brought the Archon to his knees in devotion, though I prefer the more colorful interpretations of such commentary.”

He’s not sure if he expects Cullen to carry the conversation in the tone he has set. It would be easy if the ex-templar would just comply but Dorian isn’t all that surprised when he doesn’t. He should know better than to be given the easy way out.

“Dorian…”

His name is a collection of syllables uttered nearly against his skin. It’s that same problem once more: with no place to go, they remain trapped in his flesh, a claim he hadn’t asked for when he began bedding the man purely out of convenience and to mend the damage wrought by their most honorable Inquisitor.

Leave, he knows he should say but the demand is lost somewhere between his fragile resolve and thirst for something more than just convenience.

“Is there something you need help with, Commander?” is what he settles on, says with an indifference that cuts him as much as it cuts the Ferelden.

Cullen is quiet. There’s the hesitation, the one Dorian knows so well because whenever he feels it, he listens to it, stops himself from doing or saying something that would make him vulnerable.

But the Commander doesn’t have that same kind of filter, not when he has shown himself to be the kind of man who whispers of love when they should have been fucking.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I thought that much was obvious,” Dorian answers, tracing his fingers over the spines of the books on the shelf, pretending to take interest in the titles.

His heart thuds dully in his chest, a dirge to everything he is afraid to want.

“If this is because you don’t feel the same—”

“Fasta vass,you think it’s that simple.”

“Then what is this about, Dorian?”

And he makes that mistake he promises himself he won’t.

He turns around.

It’s easier to break something off when one doesn’t have to face the man whose bed they’ve shared, whose body they’ve been pressed against, been inside, felt shudder and tremble beneath their hands, mapping every gasp like a landmark to a hidden trove of secrets, unveiled for their ears alone.

How Trevelyan had been able to look Dorian in the eyes and tell him he is nothing but a distraction is a cruelty the mage can’t bring himself to do to Cullen.

Because Cullen isn’t a distraction.

And seeing him now, face grim, golden eyes filled with that same sadness Trevelyan had once put in Dorian’s, made the mage realize that by denying himself everything he wants, he has become just like the men who have hurt him.

“I’m a fool,” he says, reaching with his trembling hand to cradle Cullen’s cheek.

It’s his way of apologizing because Dorian may have a lot to say but he always has a way of saying everything without saying anything at all.

So instead, he shows him, closing what little distance remains because the space between them has always been the barriers he has put up. But slowly, through the patience and affection Cullen has shown him, those walls have chipped away, leaving Dorian vulnerable, exposed. Yet everything about the way the Commander kisses him back, pulls the mage into his arms, presses him tightly and protectively against his armored chest, lets Dorian know that he is safe, that he no longer needs to hide behind the facade of careless indifference.

When Cullen breaks off the kiss, his scarred lip curling into a smile as it ghosts against Dorian’s own, he whispers once more those words that have been the mage’s undoing.

“I love you.”

And they sound so earnest and hope-filled, that Dorian has no choice but to believe them.

“Will that be a problem?”

He senses once more the hesitation in Cullen’s voice. The Commander is giving him one last chance to bail, to run, to satisfy the mage’s flight instinct that often bubbled into anxious panic at the fear of being misled and used once more.

But Dorian ignores it, looks into Cullen’s warm eyes, and though he is brave enough to stay, he still isn’t quite brave enough to voice how he truly feels with the same conviction.

So instead, he answers, “No, I don’t believe it will be, amatus.”

It’s not quite the same but it’s close enough.

[oncethrown]

2x15 Reaction: Hope and Boobs

This Episode Was Amazing 

(except for one consistent problem) 

And I’m So Excited 

(but seriously you fuckers need to commit to fixing this one thing)

This was the best episode of the entire show so far, and is a clear indication that everything is going up from here. With the exception of the Jace/Valentine exchange, and the couple seconds of Isabelle giving orders, every scene in this episode was about characters talking to each other, and deepening relationships while still advancing plots multi-episode plots which didn’t take over the character stuff. It makes the show feel more anchored and real, like you can finally really sink your teeth into it.

I wrote a big long ask reply yesterday about how I’m optimistic about the new characters, because it signals that the writers are working toward a perfect ensemble mix, and I feel like this episode completely bears that hypothesis out. This was the first true ensemble episode the show has managed, that worked in the majority of the characters, involved all of them in an A, B, or C plot and didn’t short shrift anyone. Everyone got something real to work with and had an important conversation with a key person that both did something with their storyline, and highlighted something about their relationship with the other person. That. Is. Amazing.

And everything built on what came before. This show is still totally within a reasonable time frame to be finding it’s feet and maturing, and this episode was absolutely that point where the path becomes gravel on it’s way to being paved and solid.

This episode also had a feeling like the production team, writers, actors and directors have finally gelled. It’s a massive stylistic improvement over even the last episode.

But Seriously, Write More Women that Don’t Make Me Hate You

However… Shadowhunter’s treatment of women is still pissing me off, (though I have super high hopes for Aline and Izzy after this episode).

The Bleeder Den basically being a sex club full of women in lingerie was lazy and cliche as hell. Simon’s entire storyline revolving around a fridged blond, was also lazy and cliche as hell.

Clary’s inability to go a full scene without crying about a boy makes me want to slap her, and then slap everyone who wrote that scene. I’m really truly sick of all this bullshit. I understand that the writers are constrained by the books, which are popular directly because of all that bullshit, and that their hands are, to an extent, tied and I believe that they are working on it, and that’s why I’m still excited to watch every week.

Clary-wise, I will begrudgingly accept that they need to do some book bullshit first. Because they are racing through the book plot at a break neck pace, and I am willing to believe that at some point, someone will want the lead of their show to be something other than a skinny red-headed version of the average american 13 year old’s diary (back in the 90’s before teenage girls were encouraged to do or be anything other than basically vending machines that money (and possibly sex) would come out of if you put enough boy bands into them first). But right now? It’s not promising, and Clary-the-theoretical-lead being such a dumpster fire makes it that much more enraging when they through in a collage of pointless boobs.

I understand that this isn’t a completely black and white issue, cause the male characters are occasionally pretty shirtless, but there is a difference between girls coming in to audition for “Boobs in Club One, Two and Three” and “Featured Boobs In Club” and that fact that they find some very thin reasons to get Alberto and Matt out of shirts.

Boobs vs. Pecs

1. The Panning Shot

This is really the main thing. The camera consistently runs over Izzy’s body like it’s initiating awkward foreplay with her. It does the same thing to Boobs 1, 2, and 3. The camera presents shirtless men, it caresses semi-naked women. It makes me nauseous and the directors who do it should all be hit with a fish, left gaping at the absurdity of being hit with a fish, and then be hit with a much larger fish.

2. Alberto, Matt, and Harry are prominently featured in the social media featuring working out and fight training .When they are shirtless, there is an element of congratulations in the way they are framed. This awesome dude worked so fucking hard and look at the artisan abs they have cultivated in our boutique gym.  “Boobs In Club” are a standing expectation that these girls fulfill, and Kat and Emeraude’s workouts are not marketed in the same way.

3. Harry’s only extended shirtless scene wasn’t sexualized. Alec doesn’t walk into that scene dumbfounded at the sight of him, and Magnus is doing tai-chi magic. It’s almost filmed aesthetically. Beautiful Magnus, in Magnus’s beautiful loft, doing beautiful magic with our new beautiful budget that we want to make a point of. Also, there’s an element of showing off with Harry in this scene not related to his body alone- Harry’s a dancer, the quality of movement he brings to Magnus is amazing, and they are showcasing that talent, not just his bulldozing shoulders.

3. Alec is (with one exception) Incidentally Shirtless. Alec takes off his shirt to access his parabatai rune in over half of the instances he’s shirtless. He’s shirtless for plot, and they don’t do any aching panning shots of him. Also, whenever he and Magnus touch each other, they are showing as little skin as humanely possible. Their first kiss? They are both in full suits. The date? Jackets. That face grabbing kiss? Sweaters. At this rate Alec might be allowed to touch Magnus’s butt while they are both in parka’s sometime in season four. Look at the difference between Izzy crawling into bed with Meliorn in heels and lingerie, and Alec waking up in Magnus’s silk sheets. It’s a very different scene.

The one time the camera is trying not to beat off to Alec is when he’s working out shirtless and Magnus comes in to give him a file, and that pan is very clearly from Magnus’s perspective (while he’s dressed like a Victorian trying to ward off the devil) and it’s a very quick pan.

We are shown Matt, Alberto and Harry semi-clothed, we are sold Kat, Emmeraude, and Random Boobs semi-naked.

4. And then there’s Dom.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the fact that they film Dom like a sirloin steak in an ad for a restaurant that does not sell sirloin steak.

The camera pans over Dom and makes him flirt with it in a scene where Clary is left speechless at the sight of him. It makes it very clear that he is naked while he is boobs adjacent, and then leaves him naked talking to a dissaproving Alec. While he’s imprisoned, his shirt hangs off of him like maybe, just maybe, he might have boobs.

And his body is also strung semi-naked on chains and made a site of violence and penetration.

This is a problem because Jace is the most feminized male character.

I can hear your thoughts. You are thinking “Magnus wears makeup” “Alec is an awkward virgin” “Simon is sweet and nerdy”

Sorry. Everything about Magnus comes back to his power. Circle members in his club? He evicts them with arrogance and magic. Evil Shadowhunter Villainess tries to derune his friend? Defeats her with shiny new law-powers. Drug Dealer in his bar? Gets him the fuck out with a smirk and a couple pointed remarks. And he is fucking ripped, and his magic is a very physical power. Masc as fuck kiddos.

Everything Alec does comes down to paternalistic protection and inherent leader-ness. He has to take care of Jace, he has to take care of the girl Jace likes, he has to save the Institute from the Inquisitor’s racism, he creates a downworld council full of grown ass men way more politically experience than he is and holds his own. They repeat at least once an episode that he’s a natural leader. It shouldn’t, but that codes masculine too.

Simon is always the sweet nerd— but he’d been on screen for less than a minute before he was a sweet nerd with killer abs. He’s had more sex than anyone on the show. He’s in a band. He’s the only one with a car. His father figure/mentor is the manliest man on the show. He pretends to be a serial killer and get shot 10 times. A lot of bullshit manliness boxes get checked by Simon Lewis.

Jace’s storylines revolve around the go-tos of lazy female writing— abuse and romance. He also uses sex (or the promise of sex) to get things (to be fair, mostly in the books) and even though Magnus has 17,000 exes and Simon pulls it’s only when Jace gets promiscuous that the storyline judges him a little. Other men have sex because they want to, Jace has sex because he has daddy issues.  Yet another bullshit feminine trope for the one guy the camera tries to hump.

Back To Women: This Time with Optimism

Interestingly, while Clary is at her most insufferable, Izzy and Aline rise.

Aline comes across as very mature, and I love all the little last lingering shots they give her, of her knowing that she is being misled in some way. Also, everyone is thrilled to see her, and the writer’s stroke in as quickly as possible that she is a woman with real connections to the main characters. She and Real Sebastian clearly had a very strong relationship. She knows him, she can tell he’s different, and apparently they were close enough for him to be trusted with her secret about her sexuality. She and Izzy get a totally unnecessary scene together, that just demonstrates that they like and respect each other, and are most likely long distance friends. That is the fucking best.

I was not a big fan of Izzy’s yin fen plot line, but I really appreciate how they are using it moving forward. She’s there to vouch for Evil Sebastian, she’s been matured in a way that makes her fit into the ensemble of Alec and Jace a little easier and now every time she’s put in charge of something, like training Max or leading the mission to transport Valentine, it reinforces that she is smart and competent and deserves it. Especially because her confidence in her abilities is solidifying. She went from “I’m not sure I can teach my little brother shadowhunting” to “Hell yes I will transport our biggest villain to our biggest prison, and I will do a great job and I will look amazing”

Clary didn’t suck in this episode. They gave her character a goal, and Kat gave a much better performance. Also… it was acknowledged that her story wasn’t the most important thing going on, and so it wasn’t given undue time, freeing up everyone else to have interesting plots and creating a nicer balance. Another sign of a solid ensemble being set up.

(But Also where the fuck are Maia and Maryse?)

Live Reactions:

Oh god. They are really going to do this intro every time.

Oh hey! An ENTIRE FUCKING ROOM FULL OF HYPERSEXUALIZED WOMEN EXCHANGING SEX FOR DRUGS. FUCK YOU FOR THIS SHADOWHUNTERS!

That was a weird blink and you miss it sort of scene. But kudos to Will. It takes a great actor to make meaning in a short scene with no dialogue.

Bed head Alec is cute.

Listen to Izzy! Don’t pursue this plot! Go find Maia!

Izzy is back! Authority! Smarts! Let me love her, don’t fuck up/kill/disappear all your women Shadowhunters, goddamnit!

I want to like this scene between Clary and Simon. The direction is great, the lighting is great. Alberto’s choice to go quiet angry is bringing a maturity to this exchange that I didn’t expect… but I’m not invested in this at all and it just makes it aggravatingly over dramatic for a boring 6 episode episode to finally end when we always knew it was coming.

That was a gorgeous exterior shot. Unfortunately, it was by itself much more interesting than the previous scene.

This dialogue is agonizing. It sounds like CC actually wrote it and Dom and Alan are struggling to act it because it’s just so bad.

See, this Simon Luke scene is perfect. This is the kind of scene that would have been amazing between Clary and Luke, especially after Jocelyn was killed, if Kat was capable of creating believable character relationships.

This Izzy Alec scene is the kind of character scene that has been missing all season, and putting this back to back with the Luke/Simon stuff is make the whole show feel more anchored and mature.

Mentor adult Luke is a fantastic direction for this character, and I super wish we had seen this earlier.

This scene of Izzy giving orders is perfect for two reasons: 1. Leader Izzy is so important on a show full of nameless boobs (fuck you shadowhunters) and 2. We are finally getting an episode that is not drowning in plot, and they were able to push the big plot-y thing forward with a quick flash while finally highlighting character driven scenes. This is  a big deal, this has been Shadowhunter’s other defining flaw all season.

Super manipulative Sebastian is great. I feel bad for real Sebastian, because you know he must have felt like garbage giving everything up to fake Sebastian, even Aline’s big secret in a world where Alec Lightwood is the only openly gay member of their entire species.

Yes! Run real sebastian! Run!

So much Alley sex in this show.

Oh shit.

Making Luke a cop was a fucking genius move on the writer’s behalf. Absolutely fucking brilliant.

Alberto is really good in this scene.

Oh… I just realized he was turning himself in. Of course he didn’t have to stay in that car. Oh, Simon.

Oh good. Boob time.  The screen is dark, but these are all straight shadowhunters. Worth noting. This is such fucking bullshit. There were other ways to do this. Also, fuck you shadowhunters. Hire one fucking director who isn’t a filthy pervert.

(I kind of feel like an unfair equivalence might be being made between kink and murder-y deviancy... but that is so far out of my lane I’m not going to explore it)

Ughhh. At least when Quinn says “some sluts might die” Simon is like “No, we fridged a real person for my character development! She had a name, and was the source of my man pain for a full 5 minutes!”

For all the bullshit that is part of this plot, Simon’s plot during this episode is a super good example of a character entering into this world and not knowing the rules, and then having a whole story about learning to adapt. It’s the story Clary would have, if the writers would 1. Give her a goal 2. Let her actions have consequences.

The acting in this Alec/ Magnus scene is fabulous, the dialogue is fine, the lighting and directing are noticeably fantastic. And it’s fit into the overall narrative really well.

Oh! Oh Shit! Izzy and Aline just passed the Bechdel test! It’s a fucking miracle.

This glamour is not going to work, and it’s going to be so good when Ollie gets back on this. Also, Luke and Raphael working together is great, and yet another example of why this is the best episode. I said that I was getting excited about the way that this show was starting to create a real ensemble, and they are finally doing it well! Yay! Excited!

Clary isn’t the worst in the B plot. AND! They gave her a goal for this episode, (achieve Simon’s forgiveness) and Kat is actually pulling it off. I’m not rolling my eyes every time she speaks. I dig it. Keep doing it.

Well. This camera work doesn’t bode well. Slow motion villains are never a good sign.

Duncan is bad shit. Calling it now.

I’m a genius.

Oooohhhhhhhhh. Yes. This exactly what I wanted. Sebastian has to replace Valentine, Valentine is such a weak villain.

Well. I was not expecting that demon face thing.

[a-gay-bloodmage]

—Sera Was Having None of This—

Pairing: Platonic Sera x Male-Genderqueer Trevelyan, Minor/Background Blackwall x Male-Genderqueer Trevelyan

Pairing Type: M/F, Minor M/M

Words: 2,425 

Warnings: Body Dysmorphia/Gender Dysphoria, Medieval European Society Has No Word for Being Genderqueer and It's Frustrating, Mallory Still Wouldn't Use They/Them Pronouns Though, He's Still Pretty Binary in all honesty, You Pry This MlM and WlW Friendship From My Cold Dead Hands

Mallory had fallen into another depression. Well, not exactly another, but today it was worse than it'd been in a few weeks.

Ink smudged on his hand from writing in such an exhausted state, not used to having to notify people whenever he'd be out of commission for a while. All the energy seemed to be drained out of him, making the simple task of penning a few letters like crossing a mountain.

He waited for the ink to dry, eyes stuck on an open wine bottle on his nightstand.

No, he told himself. Not today. Please, Maker, Mallory, not today. He rested his face on the desk, cheek pressed against the wood. As much as he ached to drink and forget, he knew that it'd make things worse like this. He didn't have anybody to hold him back from poisoning himself with every drop of alcohol in his room—and there was certainly no shortage.

After a few more minutes of lying half on the desk, he brought himself to finally pin the note to his door, careful to make sure nobody saw him do so. He looked awful today.

"Please, do not disturb me. I am not feeling well and wish to get some rest! Thank you." It was signed with a little heart.

He all but crawled his way back up the stairs, shedding the thin blanket he'd wrapped himself in as he slid into the thick covers of his bed, tucking a large pillow between his legs and against his chest as he curled up into himself. The room was dark—curtains drawn to block out the light—but it wasn't dark enough. He could still see his hands. Any view of his flesh made him sick.

He drew the covers over his head and tried to cry out his illness.

• • ♡ • •

Sera was having none of this.

She read the note and decided that if the door was locked, she was going through Mallie's window.

She jumped onto the Inquisitor's porch, trying to ignore the fact that she'd nearly fallen a few steps back. Skyhold should really do something about its loose bricks. She knocked a couple times, waiting for Mallie to open up. Surely she wouldn't ignore knocking if it came from someone willing to scale a wall to talk.

It made Sera uneasy when Mallie didn't answer. The shut doors, the curtains covering the windows, and that note on the door all spelled trouble.

"Inky! Let me in!" No response. "I'm gonna pick your lock!" No response. "Mallie! Mallie-Mallie-Mallie!" No response.

Fuck it, she thought, pulling out a pin. I'm going in. She set to picking the locked door.

Mallie didn't respond as Sera flung open her door. The light weakly spilled into the dark room, and Sera could see the lump curled up on the bed. Despite being under a layer or three of blankets, she could tell Mallie was all curled up and pathetic.

"Mallie?" Sera went to the side of her bed, leaning forward and pressing her hands into the mattress. "Come on, what's wrong?" No response. "You drunk again?" If Mallie wasn't fighting the Breach or camping in the wilderness, she was drunk. Sera tried not to think of the implications of her habit.

"No. Go away, Sera. I don't feel good." Her tone was dangerously... wet. Like she'd been crying. A lot.

"Should I go get a healer?" She bent down slightly to be on eye-level with the blankets.

"No."

"Nonsense, dummy!" She reached forward and yanked back the covers. "Come on, fresh air!" Mallie was curled around a pillow, naked except for her loose boy-breeches. It was still weird seeing her without her makeup and tits. "Ugh, you look like shit." Mallie's eyes were red-rimmed from crying, and she was covered in a nervous sweat.

"That's why I don't want anybody fucking seeing me," she hissed, yanking the covers back over her head. "Fuck off, I'm sick."

"You depressed again?" Sera asked, pulling up the covers to look at the Inquisitor again. Mallie yanked the blankets back down over her head.

"I'm always depressed."

"No you're not," Sera smiled, jumping up onto the bed. She kicked off her shoes. "You're usually all peppy and shit."

"Still depressed, idiot," Mallie groaned. "Please, just- just leave me alone to die."

"Nope, you're not dying on my watch," she said, flopping down so that she was lying on the bed, staring at where Mallie's face was beneath the blankets. "Tell me what's wrong, dummy." She pulled the blankets up just enough to peer into the darkness, her elven eyes allowing her to see Mallie's pretty blue ones.

"Nothing, now leave." She didn't yank the blankets this time.

"Nope. Staying." Sera wiggled a little closer. "Come on, tell me what's wrong, maybe cry a little, and then we can go do fun stuff. Make you less sad." Mallie's eyes were trained on the pillow she was hugging. "We can go drinking," she offered. She huffed at Mallie's lack of response. "Really? You always wanna drink, boozer."

"Sera, stop," she choked out. "I don't wanna do anything. I don't wanna go out where people'll see me. I-" She cut herself off as she began to choke on held-back tears, lasting only a few seconds before burying her face in her wet pillow and beginning to sob. "I just want to be alone..."

"Mallie, come on..." Sera hated having such a weird friend, sometimes. Not the whole sorta-lady man thing, but the fact that yesterday, Mallie was so happy. She was drinking, and laughing, and just being happy. Mallie was so much better when she was happy. But then there were days like this, where she was sobby and depressed, locking herself away and just wallowing in misery. Of course she and Beardy are in love. They're both dumb sad-sacks.

"Sera, please, I feel awful..."

"But why?" Sera frowned at her. "You're not sick, and nothing bad happened yesterday. We were, like, sealing breaches and killing demon stuff."

"Doesn't matter," she muttered, face still buried in her gross, soaked pillow. "I feel like shit because I am shit, Sera."

"No you're not," Sera laughed. It was ridiculous to think Mallie wasn't amazing.

"Yes I am!" Her muscled arms gripped her pillow even tighter, her biceps shaking with the strain. "I'm so- so stupid and I'm wrong and I'm just- just-" A scream was hardly muffled by her pillow. Sera flinched, inhaling sharply though her teeth.

"Mallie!" She instinctively reached out and grabbed Mallie's quivering shoulder. "What is wrong with you?"

"I'm what's wrong with me!" Her pretty pink nails looked like they were about to break into the pillow. "I'm so fucking wrong!" Sera didn't know what to say. "Maker, I'm so fucking wrong..."

"No, you're not," Sera repeated, soft and nervous against the heavy sadness that seemed to emanate from the Inquisitor. "Maker, Mallie, what's wrong?"

"I can't even explain it," she muttered, still not showing her face. "I just can't."

"Try then," Sera said, instinctively shrugging. "Won't know how to help 'til you tell me, stupid." Sera internally cringed at calling the crying mess an idiot again. Whoops.

"I hate this body," she said, her tears slightly quieter, but still seeming to strangle her. "It's wrong. It hurts."

Sera puffed out a cheek, squeezing one of Mallie's well-built biceps. "You're all strong and pretty and shit."

"I don't wanna be a girl," she sobbed, the sudden, odd statement throwing Sera off.

And yet you spend your whole life putting on makeup and dresses, Sera thought. Sure, Mallie had mentioned before that she wasn't all-the-way-girly, but she still liked being called a she and dressing the part. And now you tell me that's wrong?

"I don't want a cunt and I don't want real tits, but-" She groaned into her pillow. "But I want the rest and I- I don't know..."

"So you want to be a girl with man bits," Sera said, smiling at Mallie, even if the Inquisitor couldn't see her. "Why's that making you cry, Inky?"

"I just, I... I just feel wrong," she said, finally lifting her eyes from the pillow, wiping at them with shaking hands. "I probably sound absolutely mad."

"Yeah, but I always knew you were mad," Sera laughed, rolling her eyes. She could only hope that Mallie didn't think that she was being insensitive. She just wasn't someone who knew how to be mushy-gushy sweet and sentimental.

"Sera, I get that you're trying" Mallie sighed, "but you don't get it. I can't-" She looked away from Sera, messy, silky blonde hair falling every which way across her freckled face. "I don't want to be a man. I don't want to be a woman. But I want to have... stuff from both." She bit down on her lip, whining.

"Should I go get, like, Krem or something? He's all mixed up, too," Sera suggested. She really didn't really know what else to say.

Mallie shook her head. "No he's not. He knows that he's a man. I'm... lost, I guess." 

Lost was a hard word to hear coming from Mallie. Before Sera knew about what was under her skirt, the Inquisitor was one of the most fun people she'd known, even if she had her off days. She always wore a full face of makeup, pretty outfits, and her hair was always in perfect styles. She was girly and dumb and giggly, but she could drink as much as Bull. She was never lost.

Even if it wasn't a total lie, knowing that Mallie was putting on a show of happiness for everyone made Sera hurt. It hurt her to see Mallie hurt. Mallie didn't deserve to hurt.

"You're not going to get better just by lying here," Sera whispered. Her small, rough hand squeezed Mallie's shoulder. "At least get up or something. You smell like sweat and... sad." She pursed her lips. "What happened to roses and hard liquor?" She grinned when Mallie smiled, even if it was pretty damn slight.

"You're going to be the fucking death of me," she groaned, shifting around in her bed to move the pillow away from her front.

"Based on what I just witnessed, I think you're going to be the death of you."

"Eh, probably," Mallie responded, rolling her eyes. She reached over, wrapping a big, wonderfully muscled arm around Sera's thin elven body. Sera struggled against the hold half-heartedly, still not accustomed to the bare, masculine embrace, but not wanting to leave Mallie's side. The Inquisitor mumbled something out, quiet and basically inaudible.

"Huh?"

"I said thanks," she said. "I didn't think anyone would bother with this... stuff." Mallie's body was toastier than a piping hot kettle, the comforters of her bed obviously stifling in their heat. Mallie didn't seem to mind. She had often bitched about the fact that Ferelden was far colder than the Northern Marcher city she was from. "It surprises me how okay you are with all this."

"Why wouldn't I be?" She laughed. "The sky is shitting demons and I live in a tavern in a castle now! You can cry over being a not-man-not-girl-in-between-something-or-another! It's not the weirdest thing that's happened this week!" She turned over to smile at Mallie's soft, freckled face. "Did you know the friggin' tavern bard wrote a song about me? That's weird!"

"That's why you should never sleep with an artist!" Mallie was smiling. "And I heard that song, too! What was it? Her tongue tells tales of rebellion?" She was laughing, wiping away at a tear that ran down her freckles. "Fucking brilliant!" She shook her head, grinning. "Maker's tits, Sera, how do you always manage to cheer my sorry ass up?"

"I'm just that good," she said, smirking. "Your depressed butt can't handle my goodness."

"Right about that," Mallie said, poking Sera's cheek. "Thanks again, though."

"Stop with the thanks!" Sera groaned. "Friends cheer friends up. It's a friend thing! I'm just being... friendly."

"Friendly is an oddly casual word for pulling me from the dredges of self-hatred and disgust," Mallie laughed. "Most people don't bother trying to understand."

Sera shrugged. "I'm kinda nice when I wanna be," she said. "You deserve to be treated nice, you dumb, blonde bastard."

"Oh, shut it, you dumb, blonde bastard." The two of them quickly dissolved into snort-laced giggles.

They ended up just lying there, at ease with one another's presence. Sera always liked having friends who weren't touchy-feely, who gave her space but weren't obsessed with being uptight or proper. Mallie was different. She was so painfully obsessed with touching and feeling and hugging and kissing it was a miracle not everyone in the Inquisition had smudges of her makeup on them. Sera had at first been scared of it, not used to a girl wanting to cuddle her while just being friends. It was weird having a close friend pick her up in a hug and kiss her on the cheek, leaving behind bruised lungs and pink prints on her face. Closeness was weird. But Mallie was so weird that the weirdness was just another part of Mallie that Sera considered her friend.

When she looked over, she noticed that Mallie had fallen asleep, long lashes resting quietly on wet, freckled cheeks. Breathing softly and just existing as a person. Maybe she was dreaming about something. Probably her beardy boyfriend. Sera wasn't sure why someone would want to sleep with a man who smelled like a barn and had hair that probably scratched during kisses, but Mallie seemed to like him. He made her happy, so that meant he was really good. He was pretty funny, too, when he wanted to be.

"I hope you feel better," Sera whispered, smiling over at Mallie. "When you wake up, we'll bake some us cookies, alright?" She knew Mallie couldn't hear her. She didn't really care. A promise was more a promise when it was said out loud. And she really wanted to go bake cookies with Mallie—even if neither of them were good at baking. It was just fun. And they could sit on Sera's roof and throw the burnt cookies at guards and birds, too. That was always fun.

Maybe Mallie would feel better someday. Maybe she wouldn't. But, no matter what, Sera would be there. Because friends were friends no matter how weird.

[kaaras-adaar-a]

The Inquisitor’s Chambers.

// With added images! *sparkle shine* No seriously, this is my meta on Kaaras’ personal quarters. :3 Some images will not be representing his quarters correctly no thanks to in game limitations, but I will over go as much as I can because... I want to! :D 

First of all, Kaaras’ personal quarters is not his office. At first, it was, when Skyhold was still undergoing serious construction, but Kaaras is a very private person, and his sleeping area being the same as his work area honestly makes him cringe. At the bottom of the stairs there is a space allocated on the main hall that is where Kaaras’ office is--this is where he does most of his business, however, after hours people are still welcome to climb the tallest tower of Skyhold and give him a knock for work reasons (although most know when he’s retired for the evening). 

Overall, the layout of his chambers is pretty standard to in game, there’s just added features here and there.

The Fireplace (with added Kaarass for your viewing pleasure)

Standard fireplace, very large, apparently lots of extra pots for Maker knows what. First change here is that there is a Great Bear skin rug laid out at the hearth of this fireplace. Just in front of where Kaaras is standing (for a more correct reference). 

Why in the Maker he has a Halla statue there? (Aylen? Sahlin? Tavis? Merrill? HOW MANY ELVES HAVE YOU BEDDED, MISTER!?) 

Up where the Halla statue is is also a few mugs and a pot of tea that sits there (permanently, because this is our Fereldan Inquisitor and if he doesn’t have his morning, breakfast, lunch, evening, supper, before bed tea, he’s a grumpy bum, not just a luscious bum). 

This is also used as a little display area. Small tokens, from lovers, flowers, you name it. 

The Desk

First thing’s first. Andraste, that chair is AWFUL and by the Maker, Kaaras is throwing that into a woodchipper or breaking it down for firewood or something. Who knows where it’s going, so long as it’s out his sight, because it’s too small for dat qunari booty and it looks like it belongs in an old lady’s loungeroom as she listens to I Fall To Pieces by Patsy Cline. 

This desk is also A MESS and it has Kaaras frustrated just by looking at it. Those books and reports are neatly stacked to the left side. Also, drinking on the job, are you, Kaaras? *glares at* Put that frigging goblet and wine AWAY.

The drawers are actually on the right side of his desk as well. The desk overall should be sturdy (because it’s already been broken by Ezra and Kaaras’ weight as they showed the desk some very explicit love--up close and personal). His chair is far more plush and has a long back to it. Also padding for those long, hard days at work stuck in Skyhold. 

The Settee

Actually, there’s nothing wrong with this scene and it’s pretty legit. Kaaras generally lays back and reads here, so there being a book there is actually very canon to him. More water, more drinks? Well, at least I know my boy’s well hydrated! But that table should be at the end of the damn lounge and NOT where someone can randomly walk into it rounding the staircase. 

Bookshelf and Work Area

Kaaras actually DOES have a lute, and that’s where it sits. He doesn’t play it a lot, but those lucky enough to know this piece of information about him--there it is. Plain as day, standing proudly by his desk and most likely collecting dust (which is immediately cleaned away from Kaaras because he’s OCD--BioWare your speckles are dust are GORGEOUS but they send Kaaras MENTAL!). 

The bookshelf is perfect, just needs to be cleaned up. Kaaras is organised and everything is in alphabetical order by NAME not Author, because *shrug* that’s Kaaras’ OCD for you. 

At the side of Kaaras’ desk (and sometimes under) is where Ginger (his forest cat) lounges. Ginger knows he’s not allowed on the desk or Kaaras will toss him off the balcony (not really he’s not that mean but I mean he’s a mage he could probably hover him over there and scare the furballs out of him XD--NO, no being mean to the cat, he’d absolutely never!). 

On the shelves is also where he keeps and displays little tokens from his lovers (Tavis, is that a little Asaara I can see sitting there somewhere?). Flowers from lovers also go here (and on the desk). WINE also stands here, as well as a goblet here and there (re: desk). 

The Bed (AKA make Kaaras moan)

Okay, so... this is a toss up and it changes IN game because I like both and it’s a MASH up of both. Kaaras’ bed is a mash up of the Avvar and the Frostback bed, which is: 

Kaaras’ bedframe is made of wood (top pic) but as TALL as the bottom pic, it also has the overhang there that provides the smallest bit of privacy in the wrong direction of where any genitals and naked bum should be. But, hey, maybe it keeps the light out in the morning (which is also coming from that direction rofl so probably not). 

His bed is covered in pelts and furs which have been stitched together to make more of a quilt (he’s not sleeping on a full bear head, wtf--that thing belongs near the fireplace! re:fireplace). He does have normal sheets beneath the pelts and of course a mattress fit for a qunari--do you have any idea how hard that is to come by? Sheesh!). 

Kaaras sleeps on the right side of the bed, thus there is a bedside table there, just a few drawers to keep knickknacks in (and lube >.> but there’s some in his desk as well because... haaah). It’s his underwear and sock drawer, really. 

Storage (or is it?)

So this little room is off to the left side of the bed, which is pretty interesting. For one, there’s either a lot of alcohol barrels in around that corner, or it’s water. I like to think it’s water *again glares at Kaaras*. It’s actually Kaaras’ LAVATORY.

Yeah, this little thing has a frigging bucket and broom in it (KAARAS HAS TWO BROOMS re:fireplace). I’m not even surprised, really. 

I’ve always wondered where the heck Kaaras went to the bathroom, well, now you know, this little closet thing is actually the poop corner. That’s right, folks, KAARAS HAS BOWELS AND A BLADDER. Did you know that? If not, now you do! You think medieval times have luscious toilets that come up and pamper your backside after you’ve eaten and drunk all day? OH NO, my friend! It’s a damn POT and BUCKET and you gotta clean that shit (literally) out daily--or in Kaaras’ case, probably EVERY DAMN TIME he does a fart because it’s Kaaras and he’s pedantic. Also there is NO WAY this qunari is droppin a nugget out in the main room, PA-LEASE he probably waits until the whole of Skyhold is shut down and everyone’s gone because he’s that ridiculously shy. He’s the kinda man that goes “LI, can you please leave while I go to the bathroom? I can’t pee while you’re in a ten mile radius, let alone go number two.” 

Inner balcony (because two wasn’t enough outside)

Solas, get the fuck out of Kaaras’ room. No, seriously, I don’t even know why that’s there... But Kaaras is a fanboy of the Inquisition, even as Inquisitor, so... maybe that’s why. XD Oh, look, there’s OWLS! Like EVERYWHERE in Skyhold, you’d think I owned it it or something. Even Kaaras’ THRONE is an owl. Apparently it’s not just me who likes owls around here. I’m not complaining (owls will overrule humanity).

This is literally just a storage area. Kaaras rarely even goes up there unless it’s because he’s cleaning all the dust out. Say goodbye to your Inquisitor for a few hours... 

Wardrobe/Dresser

HA! ... HAAA!!!! No. Are you KIDDING ME? That is the smallest wardrobe thing I ever did see. Okay, the location is right (those paintings are not). Kaaras’ wardrobe is far taller, because this fits a bunch of toddler clothes in it and nothing fit for a qunari who has a thing for long coats and fashionable tunics. 

Kaaras has a wardrobe that that has a few drawers on the bottom of it, and the top is is doors you can open up, that’s where all his shirts and coats are hanging, as well as some of his scarves. His pants are neatly tucked and folded in the drawers beneath (underwear and socks are in the bedside drawer as mentioned before). 

On the back of the doors are mirrors, where Kaaras can stand and pick at his collars and buttons for a good 30 minutes before he realises, OMG this colour is WRONG and tries something new. Kaaras’ boots sit on the bottom of this, and underneath that is a little secret opening compartment that contains that lovely lingerie most of your muses know nothing about :O. 

Kaaras also has a dress screen to the right of his dresser, so you can’t see his naked arse getting changed--how disappointing. I know, right? Argh... 

That’s Kaaras’ personal chambers. :) And an added bonus pic of Kaaras, because... he’s a gorgeous man <333 

Mods:

Qunari Wild Iro (no longer up) / no dirt buildup  / skyhold retexure