#seriously I cannot like sera I’ve tried so hard

[dippedinmelancholy]

I’ve heard that DA:I was originally planned for the MC to only be able to be human, so idk if this is intentional or not by the devs.. .

Playing Lavellan, regardless of gender or sexuality, is just so insanely isolating and depressing, especially if you’re someone like me who latched on SUPER hard to the Dalish.

The Dalish elf gets sent to see if the humans can actually work out their problems. If they can give the mages rights, more freedom than they’ve ever known, maybe that means hope for how the Dalish are treated. But then, surprise, the Dalish tries to help a human woman being sacrificed by people who have sworn to protect the good of all, and everything goes to shit.

They’re suddenly at the head of a religion that has spent hundreds (thousands????) of years hunting them, hating them horribly, so much so that one of your first conversations with Josephine she mentions some of the rumors being Dalish making blood sacrifices. You’re “claimed” by this religion, and have no choice but to work with them. No matter what you believe, you cannot escape this. From this moment on, your entire heritage, family, and beliefs will be forgotten. You are carved in history as the history that even the “savage” Dalish can be claimed and saved by Andraste.

This could be endured. It’s horrible and icky, but on its own could be endured. No one has control over how the world perceives.

But nearly every companion either refuses to acknowledge you are Dalish and that matters to you, or they (Looking at you Sera) outright are disgusted by you, and vocalize how much they hate that part of you at every chance they can. Cassandra, though I don’t think she means to, is horrible insulting by asking if there’s not some space for one more god for you, as though they haven’t used “the Maker” to hunt and punish Dalish.

Josephine is the only one who shows softness or understanding.

But you endure. There has to be a reason, and even if there isn’t, you have to protect the world, because if not you then who will? All the while, this budding, horrible fear of what happens after. No Lavellan can be foolish enough to NOT have that fear. When the threat is dealt with, the dust settles, and the humans grow more comfortable and forget how grateful they are to you, what will happen? A Dalish will not be allowed to keep such power, wielding it over humans. Especially not if you has the misfortune of being born a mage.

And then Trespasser. Your gods aren’t gods, and even if they were, they never cared about you. You’ve spent all your life clinging to the pride that even though life as a Dalish is hard, it is worth it because you are FREE. You are not servants or slaves, you are free, and that makes the suffering worth it. But you were never free. You willingly welcomed slave markings, and the world was too shattered for any of your people to ever know the truth of their history.

And though you and your people have prayed to the gods all their lives, it’s no a single one of them that gives you the mercy of this truth. No. It’s the most feared of the gods, the unspoken, the whispered, the cursed. The Dread Wolf. The rebellion of those slave markings, in your midsts, and in my case, in your bed, in your heart.

Your world is shattered. You are dying. Everything is in tatters because you were foolish enough to try and help a human woman, when no human has ever reached a helping hand to you. Yet, the only remaining constant is that you are alone.

You are alone and you are a fool.

[sassylavellen]

A little about me

and my love of Dragon Age

DA Game: - Dragon Age II. Yeah, I admit it’s not the most polished or impressive of the three, but I absolutely love the characters from II, and out of the three I have played II to completion the most amount of times.

Player Character: - Hawke. Hands down. I love The Hero and the Inquisitor but The Champion will always have a special place in my heart.

Player Character gender: - Mostly female. I have tried but I cannot make a good-looking man in the Origins creator. As for II, I’ve loved Marian Hawke too much to finish a whole round as Garrett Hawke. Inquisition is the only game I’ve ever beaten as a male protagonist.

Love Interests: - In Origins: Leliana. I’ve tried others but I always end up with her. There’s just something about her that I can’t keep away from. - In II: Merrill. To be fair, I flirted hard with Anders the first time I played II but changed my mind after he sent me in the sewers. Then Act III happened and I was glad I stopped it before it had gone further! - In Inquisition: Harding. Like my gosh Harding is bae.

Favorite Companion (based on usefulness to the party): - Origins: Again, it has to be Leliana. I always bring her for her rogue abilities. And when I learned she could stun enemies by singing. - II: Bethany. She’s the perfect healer, so I can take whoever else I want. - Inquisition: Sera. I love the bow and arrow combat style and so if I’m not a rogue Inquisitor I always bring Sera with me. (I pick her over Varric based on her specialization class.)

Favorite squad configurations: - Origins: Leliana, Alistair, Morrigan - II: Bethany, Varric, Aveline (Merrill after Act 1) - Inquisition: Cassandra, Sera, Dorian

Companions I don’t really use much: - Origins: Ogrhen, Zevran or Sten. IDK I know a lot of people love Zevran but in my first go through he betrayed me and I had a hard time trusting him after that. - II: Isabella. Seriously girl maybe if you put some pants on YOU WOULDN’T KEEP DYING. Also Carver. Screw Carver. - Inquisition: To this day I have never had Cole in my party. Now it’s like a running in-joke. I don’t really use Solas or Blackwall very much either.

Favorite characters: - Origins: Leliana and Alistair. - II: Hawke and Bethany. And Varric. And Merrill. And Aveline. Oh heck I love them all (except Carver and Anders) - Inquisition: Harding, Cassandra, Dorian, and Iron Bull. I wish Harding was a companion...

Least Favorite companion: - Origins: Zevran. I’m expecting a lot of hate for that.... - II: Carver. Screw Carver. - Inquisition: Cole. I never quite understood him.

Classes: - Rogue. It’s my favorite fighting style of them all. But I do like to switch it up, Origins and Inquisition are fun as warriors and as much as I dislike Carver, I enjoy the Mage combat system in II. Inquisition is fun as a bow and arrow rogue.

Mages or Templars? - Mages.

Favorite Mission: - In Origins it was when The Warden is captured and the companions have to rescue them. - In II, it might be All That Remains. Even though I hate it in the moment, that was the level that really made me love the game’s narrative and the emotions I felt. - In Inquisition it was Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts. The second time I played it, my Inquisitor found all the clues and exposed the Dutchess in front of the court. That felt SOOOOO good!

Least Favorite Mission: - Origins: The Sloth Demon and the endless fade puzzles. - II: The Arishok fight. Screw that fight. Just screw it. - I honestly don’t know if there’s one mission I hate... I mean, I find The Hinterlands to be annoying but I fully recognize the cause of my annoyance is a personal thing, because that early in the game I wasn’t ready to be dropped in an open world with little direction. Looking back on it I’m fine but I just jarred my experience so much the first time.

Favorite DLC: - Origins: Awakening. That was horrifying. - II: Eh... I guess Mark of the Assassin... no wait I hate the stealth mechanics. Legacy then. Tallis is cool though. - Tresspasser. BEST MUSIC SCORE YET.

Non Dragon Age Bioware Title: - Knights of the Old Republic II. Hands down. Mass Effect is great and all, but KOTOR II was possibly the greatest RPG I’ve ever played.

[gingerninja-blr]

No Respite Here

Ysmere’s head hit the pillow and he let out a low groan of exhaustion as he hooked the bed curtain with his toes and dragged it up to where he could reach it and pull it the rest of the way shut. Blocking out the rising light of dawn. 

 He had no sooner dragged the blankets up to his chin and closed his eyes when he heard Cullen’s usual four heavy knocks on his bedroom door before the door opened and the Commander called for him to wake up as he climbed the stairs. 

 He rolled onto his back and stared up at the canopy blearily and gave a resigned sigh as he rubbed his face and reached to open the curtain with a leaden hand. 

 So it had been since the day they had arrived at Skyhold. Working through until dawn, and getting to bed only to be ousted the moment he shut his eyes. The Inquisitor felt he hadn’t gotten a decent rest since he’d collapsed in the snow in the Frostbacks after stumbling, battered, defeated and wounded, away from the ruins of Haven.

  “They’re waiting for you at the war table, Inquisitor.” Cullen said. “Oh, and good morning.” He added, an afterthought as he stood waiting expectantly. 

 All Ysmere could muster in response was the ghost of a wan smirk, barely a pull at one corner of his pale lips. He leaned heavily against the corner post of his bed and pressed a hand to his eyes, breathing deeply as he willed his vision to clear of darkness and blood red sparkles as the blood rushed from his head. 

 “I’ll see you there.” He murmured sleepily to Cullen and hoped the Commander didn’t notice that the bed post was all that was keeping him on his feet. 

~~~

 He shoved the door leaving the stairwell into the Great Hall open, it seemed to take a ridiculous amount of effort. He was so weary he couldn’t even rightly recall what had transpired at the war table. He supposed it didn’t really matter, though. Cullen, Lelliana and Josephine knew what they were doing, he was just the elf with the mark that closed rifts and ran all the errands, did all the manual labour... 

 No, that was uncharitable and beneath you. A voice in the back of his mind chided. They’re working harder than you are to pick up your slack, you useless... The chiding voice continued. 

 “Ugh, stop!” He muttered, interrupting his own thoughts as he leaned against the door leading to his quarters. “You’re over-tired and feeling sorry for yourself. We’ve been through this before, just go back to bed, get some sleep. They know where to find you.” He lectured himself in a barely audible whisper. 

 “Oh, there you are, darling. I was hoping you could spare a moment, there is something important we need to discuss.” 

 He sighed inwardly and just managed to refrain from thumping his head on the heavy door before he turned to the source of the smooth, haughty voice. 

 “Of course, Madame De Fer.” He replied with his knee-jerk politeness. He felt leaden and almost drunk as he followed her up the stairs. 

 “Sit, darling, we’ve much to discuss.” Vivienne graciously indicated the plushly upholstered chair and bade him sit with a graceful wave of her hand as she took a seat on the divan that was set opposite. 

 “Of course, Madame De Fer.” Ysmere replied, starting to feel foolish in his repetitive replies, but too brain-numbed to think of anything else to say. 

 “Oh please, darling, we’re equals now, you may call me Vivienne.”  She smiled winningly, but she somehow made it sound as if his status as a social equal would not last. 

 “Thank you, Lady Vivienne.” Ysmere returned the smile none the less. 

 Vivienne’s smile broadened briefly. “Now, this alliance with the mages is all well and good, but it cannot last forever. What do you intend to do with them after all this is done? You cannot think to simply let them go free...” Was all of the conversation he could recall before he re-awoke to Vivienne’s furious glare. 

 “Had I known you would not be taking your role seriously I should never have come to this frozen waste.” Her tone was scathing. 

 “Madame De Fer, I’m terribly sorry, there is no excusing...” He started, automatically reverting to her formal title. 

 Vivienne waved him off disdainfully. “Worry not, my dear, you are obviously not taking any of this seriously, and I should have known that they would not truly put someone like you in a position of any real control. I shall talk to someone else on this matter.” She dismissed him as he jumped to his feet and very nearly bowed to her in supplication.  

 He pushed through the wave of dizziness his sudden movement caused, hoping Vivienne didn’t notice him staggering to the top of the stairs. 

 “shitshitshit... Sh-iit!” He swore under his breath with each step before slipping halfway down the stairs. His eyes bulged and he flailed his arms, wrenching his back as he scrabbled for any hold on the rough stone walls. Anything to keep himself from tumbling down the remaining steps and breaking his idiot neck. 

 His butt hit the step hard as he sat, rubbing his face slowly with his calloused hands. He was so tired he nearly felt like weeping. 

  “Ugh... So much for having any sort of friendship with her... No use apologizing. I should thank her for giving me the most sleep I’ve had all month, though...” He groaned quietly, thumping his head against the wall. 

 Ysmere looked up blearily as he heard the door open and Varric peered curiously around the corner. His eyebrows knitting as he approached. 

 “You okay, Ginger?” The dwarf put a square hand on the Inquisitor’s slender shoulder and looked him in the eye searchingly, concern clear on his broad features. 

 Ysmere sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to avoid looking Varric in the eye. “M’fine, Varric. Jus’... fine.” 

 “You wanna try that lie again? Maybe you’ll be more convincing on the second try.” 

 The elf’s shoulders drooped as he finally made eye contact and wilted against the wall. 

 “I... am so tired.” He finally admitted. 

 “Hmph, looks like tired doesn’t even come close, if you ask me. How has nobody noticed that our esteemed Inquisitor is on the verge of collapsing from sleep deprivation?” 

 “’S’not their fault. So much going on, m’jus’ the elf with the hand.” Ysmere sighed, his eyes drooping shut as he sagged against the cold stone. 

 “Ookay, Droopy. Lets get you to bed before you pass out in the stairwell, ‘cause while I probably could carry you, I really don’t want to have to.” He said as he grabbed Ysmere’s forearm and tugged him slowly to his feet. 

 Ysmere grimaced at his hand, having set it on the stair next to his ass to help lever himself to his feet. 

 “Uck... Is that... custard?” He asked, frowning at the sticky-slick coating the palm of his hand. “ Sera.” He huffed. “Wonder how hard she’ll laugh when she realizes she almost killed me...?” 

 “I think Buttercup probably meant that for Madame De Fer.” 

 Ysmere shook his head. “No, ’s meant for Dorian, he always leaves the rotunda this way so...” 

 “So he doesn’t have to speak to Chuckles. I get it.” Varric finished for him as he peered around the doorjamb, hoping there weren’t too many people in the Great Hall to see them stumbling drunkenly to the Inquisitor’s quarters. 

 Seeing only Gatzie standing in his usual place at the far end of the Hall, Varric gently took the lanky Elf by the elbow and guided him across to the door to his quarters and from there, to his bed. Even going so far as to help Ysmere undress for bed. 

 “Wait... ‘Ve got stuff t’do. Can’t jus’ go to bed.” He protested, trying to get up, only to have Varric give him a gentle shove backward into his pillows. 

 “Ah, ah. Ginger, you are going to bed, and if anyone tries to disturb you, they’ll be answering to me, and Bianca.” He stated, virtually pinning the elf in bed as he tucked the blankets tightly around his shoulders. 

 “Yanno... You’d be an excellent Dad...” Ysmere observed with a vague, dreamy smile. 

 “Me? H’oh no! Not a chance!” The Dwarf protested, turning around, but Ysmere was already dead to the world, too exhausted to even dream. Varric snorted. “Sleep tight, Inquisitor.” He murmured as he quietly closed the door behind him. 

[vannadee37]

There are currently seven four-legged loves of my life: four dogs – C.T., Dakota, Daisy, and Doc, and three cats – KitKat, Sonny and Cher. This post is really only about the dogs. As I write this, I’m thinking about what my husband and I have been through this past week with having to let our sweet, precious Daisy go, and the journey we are currently on to pick up a new four-legged rescue, who is really kind of rescuing us. 

Top: C.T. and Dakota Bottom: Daisy and Doc

First of all, let me share with you a little bit about the first two four-legged loves of my life.

The first four-legged love of my life was C.T., a German Shepherd we rescued in the summer of 1998, shortly after we purchased our first house. After almost a year of trying to deal with C.T.’s separation anxiety, I found the next four-legged love of my life at a flea market. He was a chihuahua-pomeranian mix we named Dakota. C.T. and Dakota quickly became partners-in-life, and stayed that way until we had to let C.T. go {cancer sucks, by the way, even for animals}, which was on July 5, 2010. After we buried C.T., Dakota began to grieve himself to death. I asked our vet for advice, and she said that we had two choices: (1) put him on medication, or (2) get him a new companion. Dakota’s grief and my search for a new companion happened so fast, but I didn’t want to lose Dakota after just lost C.T.

That’s when the next four-legged love of my life came around. I found three dogs on PetFinder that I thought my husband would like, and Daisy was one of the choices. He looked at all three photos and chose Daisy, whose name at the animal shelter was actually Diana. We renamed this little beagle-poodle mix Daisy.

Daisy came into our lives just when we needed her. She brought Dakota out of his depression and they quickly became best buddies. Daisy was still a puppy when I brought her home. She was born on April 24, 2010, and we adopted her on July 10, 2010. She brought so many smiles to our faces and so much laughter into our lives over the years. There is no way to measure the happiness and love she brought into our home.

Dakota showing a young Daisy who’s the boss!

Dakota looks at us while we laugh at the mess Daisy made in the floor.

About five years ago, the fourth four-legged love of my life crossed our yard and into our lives. My husband named him Doc, after Doc Holliday from Tombstone, which I think is his favorite movie. Daisy was named after that line in the movie, “You’re a daisy if you do!” We rescued this pit bull/mountain cur/boxer mix (we think) from the mean country roads, but he really is the sweetest dog. He loved Daisy, and yet, he feared Dakota. Doc, without his Daisy, is lost.

Dakota, Daisy, and Doc – all in a state of slumber

So now that I’ve introduced you to all four of the four-legged loves of my life, let me explain what happened to our sweet Daisy, and why we had to let her go on March 20th, the first day of Spring.

This past week has been very hard on my husband and I, as well as on Doc. You see, over a month ago Daisy was diagnosed with intervertebral disc disease, which is common among long-bodied-short-legged dogs like dachshunds and beagles. She had some back problems in the past and I had taken her to the vet for check-ups. Each time they would tell me that it could be a pinched nerve or a pulled muscle. Except this past week was different, in that it wasn’t a pinched nerve or a pulled muscle. It was far worse.

Back at the beginning of February sometime, after I had already left for work, she jumped or fell off our bed and landed awkwardly. My husband jumped out of bed and gently picked up a yelping, whimpering Daisy. He told me about what happened and when we noticed that she seemed to be walking like a drunken sailor, I took her to our vet, Dr. Tara.

Dr. Tara did a physical exam, then took Daisy about 10-15 feet away from me and had her walk to me so she could observe Daisy’s drunken sailor walk. She came back into the exam room and said that she thought Daisy had IVDD. Surgery was an option, if we had $4000 or more just lying around the house, which we didn’t. Another option was to keep her crated, walk her on a leash, try some alternative therapy {acupressure and massage therapy}, and limit her running and jumping. Dr. Tara then told me that if Daisy suffered another traumatic injury, that it could be life-threatening, that she could become paralyzed. If that happened, then we had 12-24 hours to get Daisy to the Emergency Vet for surgery, otherwise, Daisy would be permanently paralyzed.

That thought shook me to my core. Daisy was my world, more so than Doc {my heart hurts admitting that, but it’s true}. When Daisy was a puppy, she would whine and cry all night. I would take her into the living room where I would lay on the couch under a blanket, with Daisy nestled on my chest, and softly sing to her…

“When I was just a young pup, I asked mommy what will I be. Will I be pretty? Will I be smart? This is what she said to me… Que sera, sera Whatever will be, will be The future’s not ours to see. Que sera, sera… What will be, will be.”

{It’s my take on the theme song that Doris Day sang for her show, The Doris Day Show.}

Daisy would drift off to sleep and then I would drift off to sleep as well. I would sing that song often to my sweet Daisy, like when she would come into the bathroom and lay beside the bathtub while I bathed, or after she had to have knee surgery and had to be crated. Anytime she started to whine or cry, I would start singing to her and she would settle down. The last time I sang that song to her was last Sunday afternoon, as I sat in the floor beside Daisy, who was laying in her crate.

You see, Daisy was improving. I was walking her on a leash; we kept her confined to the breezeway and the back deck; she was absolutely not allowed to run or jump, period. I was doing twice daily acupressure therapy on Daisy’s back and she was getting her mojo back, so much so that over the past couple of weeks, she had started dancing around on her back legs, jogging {as best as she could} around the yard while still on her leash, and jumping up and down off the furniture. I tried to catch her either before she jumped up or jumped down, but I wasn’t always fast enough.

Prime example was last Thursday, when I brought Daisy and Doc back into the house from their evening potty break after I got home from work. She was following my into my dressing room, or so I thought. I heard her jump onto the chair by the picture window, but when she jumped down, I could tell just by the sound that she landed hard and awkwardly. I rounded the corner and in four steps, I had reached her and was helping her up. She didn’t yelp or cry. She just kind of shook herself off and acted like everything was ok. Little did I know, but she was seriously injured.

Friday morning, after I had already left for work, my husband noticed her walking awkwardly and leaning/falling over to her left side. It was more noticeable on Friday evening after I got home. It was far worse on Saturday morning, and by noon, Daisy couldn’t walk at all. By Monday night, we realized that her situation was far worse than what we initially had thought. I called the vet’s office first thing Tuesday morning while on my way to work. They could see her at 9:45 a.m. My husband took her to see Dr. Will, who coincidentally did Daisy’s knee surgery, and who is married to Dr. Tara. By 10:00 a.m., my husband was telling me over the phone that we had to make a decision, but that he had already made it.

“We have to put her down, and I am having her cremated because I cannot bury another dog.”

His sobs came through the phone, and I laid my head down on my doctor’s desk and sobbed as well. That jump down from the chair had broken her neck, and within 48 hours she was a quadriplegic. She was the kind of dog that needed to run, jump, and play around almost constantly. And for the last three days of her life, she was confined to a crate, paralyzed, unable to move, jump, run, or play. She could still move her head, and her eyes were at times bright, and yet other times, they were dull and almost lifeless.

She and I spent our last night together in the living room, me on the couch and  her in her crate. She would whine and cry until I leaned over to scratch her head or touch her. I got little to no sleep that night, but neither did she. When I left for work that Tuesday morning, I knelt down in front her of, planting sweet, gentle kisses on her head and nose, telling her that I loved her so much. Little did I know that that would be the last time I would shower her with kisses or stroke her head.

Daisy loved sitting on the bench, looking out the picture window.

I brought Daisy’s ashes home from the vet’s office on Friday morning. I let Doc sniff the cherry colored box and his tail set to wagging. He watched over me as I read the Certificate of Cremation, and then placed the certificate and the box in the glass cabinet under our television. I can see the box from my place on our couch, or better yet, I can see Daisy from where I sit.

Which brings me to today, Saturday, March 24th… my husband and I are traveling to North Carolina to pick up a new four-legged rescue. She is a one-year-old Australian blue heeler/Texas heeler mix named Daisy, but we are changing her name to Kate. Why Kate? Because Kate was the name of Doc Holliday’s girlfriend in the movie Tombstone. We have a theme going with our furbabies! You’ll see our newest rescue on our personal Instagram feeds {@vanessa_h_wood or @rpmgarage22}, as well as the one for our pets {@daisy_doc_kitkat_sonny_cher}.

My husband needs this rescue dog in his life as much as, if not more than, Doc. Both of the men in my life – my human and my furbaby – are lost. As much as I love and miss Daisy, I am trying to be strong for them and yet I’m balling my eyes out in private.

I like what my husband wrote in his last Instagram post about Daisy’s passing. “Please, do not pray for us. We would rather you hug an animal, treat it with kindness, maybe even let it lick your toes…one of Day’s favorite things. Maybe even ‘rescue’ one…like Daisy rescued us.”

With all my heart I believe that as much as we like to say that we rescued Daisy {or any one of our family pets}, I honestly believe that it was our rescued pets who rescued us.

Thank you for reading this very long post, and maybe even crying along with me. It may take years for my heart to heal, but I will cherish the memories I shared with Daisy.

Yours Truly, Vanessa

The Four-Legged Loves of My Life There are currently seven four-legged loves of my life: four dogs - C.T., Dakota, Daisy, and Doc, and three cats - KitKat, Sonny and Cher.