#i’m magic you stupid cankers!

[reyturnofbensolo]

🤣

[heartslogos]

newfragile yellows [48]

Lavellan makes a soft, disturbed humming chirp.

This particular humming chirp is different from all the other sounds Krem has learned over the past nine months, and in total - over the past almost six or seven years he’s known the woman.

“I am having the baby,” Lavellan says.

“Yup,” Rocky muses, “That you are. Kind of late to go back now.”

Krem starts to get a sinking feeling in his stomach as Lavellan stares at the wall, hand resting over the swell of her stomach.

“Now,” She says.

“What?” Varric asks, looking up - and judging from the way his face slowly grows pale - is coming to the same conclusion Krem is.

Lavellan nods once to herself, “I am having the baby.”

She pauses and smiles beatifically, “Right now. My water broke.”

And that’s how Krem finds himself crammed into Varric’s shitty mini-van with Lavellan dreamily floating around the side of the car as Stitches and Dalish attempt to convince her to get inside while Varric calls Cassandra from the front.

“No, listen, Pentaghast, we need your plates.”

“My what?” Cassandra asks.

“Your plates - your special foreign important person plates. Lavellan’s water broke and we need to get her to the hospital.”

Varric’s phone is connected to his car, so all of them get to hear what sounds like Cassandra getting out of her seat and grabbing someone by the back of the neck, snarling pull over, and the very quick and immediate sounds of tires squealing, doors opening and slamming shut, people rearranging themselves, and a siren turning on.

“I will be there in five minutes.”

“You don’t even know where we are.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes.”

Cassandra is indeed with them in five minutes - because Lavellan still can’t be convinced to get into the damn van - and with one look, Lavellan is immediately climbing into the back seat of Cassandra’s black, shiny SUV.

Some extremely nervous men in suits get out as the rest of them get in.

“Where’s Bull? Dorian?” Cassandra asks.

“Bull’s at the airport,” Lavellan answers, the only calm person among them as she pets Grim’s knee. Grim is staring at Lavellan like she’s grown a second head as she half climbs on top of him to make room for Dalish to squeeze in.

“Dorian?” Cassandra asks.

“You aren’t going to believe this,” Varric says, “But Bull is at the airport to get Dorian. Dorian’s flight was delayed and they’re behind by three hours.”

“We were going to induce the labor tomorrow,” Lavellan says as Krem and Stitches finish loading Lavellan’s things into the back of the truck, “What a coincidence!”

Lavellan pets her belly, “But you are a naughty baby! You should really wait until your daddies are present.”

Cassandra makes a high pitched groan and revs the engine.

Actual minutes later - thanks to both the combined star power of everyone present, Cassandra’s terrifying driving, and Lavellan’s overall magical charm, in addition to the arrival of everyone else they know and their star power and magical charm - Lavellan is checked in and everyone is crowding in the waiting room.

Krem is nearly one hundred percent certain that no civilian hospital has ever had this many high profile people crammed in their waiting room - with more on the way.

“What, did you plan for all of us to be in the delivery room with you or what?” Sera had asked, meeting them just as Cassandra’s car squealed into the patient drop off zone.

“That would have been ideal, yes,” Lavellan had said, “Which reminds me - has anyone told Bull and Dorian that their child is being born?”

The answer was no.

Everyone looks up as the men of the hour run into the room, almost crashing into the reception desk -

“Uh, is one of you the father?” Because really, there’s only one person these two people are here to see considering the rest of the damn room.

“I’m the father,” Dorian says at the same time Bull says, “I’m her husband.”

The two grimace and the room, collectively groans. Of course.

Bull covers his face with a hand and waves the other at Dorian, “You go, it’s your kid being born.”

Dorian glares, “And she’s your wife.”

“The three of you didn’t even think about this, did you?” Vivienne asks - it isn’t even really a question at this point - , flipping a page in a five month old magazine.

“Nope,” Bull says.

“But we do know the theme for baby’s first birthday party.”

-

“What’s wrong with Dorian?” Lavellan asks, walking into the room and reclaiming her seat. Cole immediately lies down with his head on her lap, facing her barely present baby bump, touching the tip of his nose to her stomach. She begins to wind her hand through his hair and Cole begins to mumble something - most likely poetic and mildly disturbing. Like a single drop of ice down the soul.

Dorian groans softly, arms over his eyes as he lies across the love seat, phone loosely held in his hand.

“Latest boyfriend dumped him via text,” Bull says, putting his arm around her shoulders, hitting play on the movie.

Lavellan narrows her eyes, “Is that the one you brought to the wedding, Dorian? The one that’s off and on? Because I told you that I did not approve. I would have said more but I was worried you’d walk out on me and I would be short a best man. But I’m telling you now. He was a very thorough turnip. A bad turnip. A very bad turnip.”

“No, that’s a different one. He met this one at a symposium,” Bull says. “You’re thinking of the one Cassandra almost punched out when Dorian went to give the wedding toast. The closet-bigot turnip that we didn’t realize was a closet-bigot about until he started talking shit because he couldn’t handle one little drink without running his mouth. And Dorian thought he was just like - not a drinker at all.”

“Which is the symposium one then?” Lavellan frowns, “Have we met the symposium one? Is symposium turnip the one that said Dorian was committing a crime of nature by using a surrogate mother?”

“No, that’s racist turnip - they broke up the day we began thinking about this thing.”

“Do you have to call them all turnips?”

“Do you prefer dingdongs? Wingdings? Canker-sores? Don’t defend them. They all broke up with you for stupid reasons. And they were all concealing horrible, horrible character flaws from you.”

Dorian puts an arm over his eyes, “Via text. I’m not even good enough for a phone call. Or a public blog post.”

“Dorian, if I were a man, and your boyfriend, and stupid enough to break up with you I’d definitely make it worthy of internet drama,” Lavellan says.

“That’s not a good thing,” Bull says to her.

“It’s better than breaking up through text,” Lavellan points out.

Cole puts his hand on her stomach, “Maybe Baby can find a better boyfriend for Dorian. The Iron Bull always says babies attract a lot of dates.”

Lavellan turns to stare up at the Iron Bull, “How were you using babies to pick up dates? You’ve never had a baby before. This one isn’t even born yet.”

Bull shrugs, “Grim.”

“What?” Dorian raises his arm to give Bull a baffled look.

“Grim found a baby once and he got about fifty phone numbers before we could find the kid’s parents,” Bull says. “It’s a combination of the stoic demeanor, the baby, and the fact that he’s probably an exiled bastard son of some foreign prince.”

Lavellan turns to Dorian, “Maybe you should date Grim.”

“Not on your life.”

-

“Anyway, I’m pregnant,” Lavellan says and both Bull and Dorian freeze.

Lavellan pauses her pacing around the room, holds the phone away from her ear, shrugs, and tosses it over her shoulder.

“I’m going to make a peanut butter sandwich. Did we run out of honey?”

Bull catches it without looking.

They can both hear Evelyn screaming on the other side - “Lavellan? Ellana? Ellana! You’re what? Ellana!”

Bull glances at the phone and then deadpans, “Your sperm, your problem,” and tosses the phone at Dorian.

Dorian lurches forward in his chair, almost sliding off of it as he fumbles his catch - a few heart racing seconds later Dorian gapes at Bull, gesturing at the phone with his hand.

Bull smirks and goes back to reading pamphlets on various pregnancy things - nutrition, tips for back aches, helpful phone numbers -

Dorian glares at him.

“Our Lavellan, our problem,” And puts the phone on speaker, tossing it back onto the couch Bull is sitting on.

“You’re on speaker, Evelyn,” Dorian says.

“Bull!” Evelyn yells, “You’ve gotten Ellana pregnant?”

“Wrong,” Bull says, “Dorian’s gotten Lavellan pregnant.”

At least five different voices scream what at the same time.

“Who are you even with?” Dorian asks.

“Dagna, Malika, Josephine, Sera, and Evelyn,” Maxwell answers, “Cullen - but he’s currently choking on his own spit. Evelyn might not count because I think you killed her. She hasn’t had an asthma attack since we were like - twelve. Now she’s going blue. How could you do this to us?”

“You got Ellana pregnant?” Evelyn wheezes. “Dorian, I don’t - Bull. I. You!”

“Before you come over here, a baby strapped to your back and chest,” Dorian says, “On the upside you have someone to be pregnant with! Pregnancy buddies! You’re always complaining about how none of us know what it’s like.”

“Cullen hold the twins,” Evelyn bellows out - proving once and for all that while she is on maternity leave she has not, for a single moment, lost a single molecule of what makes her a terrifying Inquisitor. If anything it’s multiplied. “I’m going to kill Dorian and the Iron Bull. Maxwell - get Cassandra, I need her to hide the bodies.”