#so glad i went with him first on my warden

[trickerys-domain]

I was tagged by @contrivedcoincidences6 to make my OCs this picrew!! Thank you for tagging me, I finally got it done lol!!!

Iseya Tabris: A headstrong and compassionate duelist/assassin rogue. Blunt, and sometimes vengeful, to those who show corruption, incompetence, or cross her; but endlessly kind to those in need. Absolutely did not want to get married, but always wore Nelaros's ring to honor his sacrifice and as a reminder (yes, I did full ass sacrifice a whole item spot for this in game the whole game). Iseya thought she would always sacrifice anything for her family and people, including her found family and her lover Alistair. She was prepared to die to stop the blight, and would have if not for Morrigan's offer.

*Hilariously I named my Warden years prior to the release of The Last Flight novel, but it really added a great element to her character.

Marian Hawke: A two-handy Reaver Purple Hawke who loves her family especially her sister. Even Gamlen grows on her after the death of her monther as she finally is worn down enough to see him better. Marian starts off as a confident sassy jokster who tries her best to make a new life, but as the years go on and she loses and lose and loses, her jokes become a coping mechanism. A mean streak also appears. By the end she's so tired and depressed that she doesn't even notice Anders pulling away from her. She spares and stands by him anyway because she needs this one thing to stay in her life.

*I just really like the default Hawke Names, I think they fit Hawke really well.

Shiren'ne Lavellen: A compassionate, kind, yet firm and decisive person, Shiren'ne prepared her whole life to become a worthy Keeper for her clan. Yet after she ends up with a new calling she takes it with stride, understanding her role in the world is now beyond just her people, but she always rebuffs being sent by Andraste and stands by her gods. Shiren'ne's favourite thing about the Inquisition was getting to know everyone and learn so much about other cultures and customs, and was always happy to share and demonstrate her Dalish culture (within reason). And although she had been so ready to be Keeper and she is Dalish to her core, after everything she knew she could never return and instead found a new quiet life with Cullen. Shiren'ne prefers slower ritual and practical magics and leans towards old nature and healing (I wish spirit healer had been a subclass), but is eager to learn about the fade, spirits, and the journey of ones soul after death, showing this by choosing vallaslin for Falon'Din.

*Took some research, but her name essentially means Voice of the Journey. She chose the name herself for her Valleslin ceremony as part of accepting and stepping into her role as First.

No pressure tag to @wolfwhisperertf, @the-nameless-nerd, and anyone else who wants to ❤️

[danielnelsen]

i wouldnt go so far as to call the calling a good book necessarily, but it's so much better than the stolen throne and it's actually got an interesting plot & lore, it's very refreshing when im reading them in order

[fountainpenguin]

Secret Life finale highlights for me:

- "My strategy: Kill Skizz and Tango. Will happen at some point... Or, just maim them and watch them die in a corner." - Scar

- Scott on Grian's loyalty: "I have never seen a man drop a pair of sunglasses faster in my life [than last season after Joel died]."

- I think I reblogged someone's speculation weeks ago that at the dawn of final session, everyone's task book would just say "Win Secret Life." Congrats to them for Apollo's gift of prophecy.

- Martyn's beat of pause before saying to Joel "Welcome to the Out of Context video."

- At the start of the season, Etho said Joel was the first one he wanted to kill because "He's cheeky." When Joel is asked who he wants to kill, he says "Etho." Glad you're enjoying your rivalry, boys, smh...

- Joel, once again giving into his Shrek origins, watching Bdubs' wool globe go up in flames and chirping "My world's on fire; how 'bout yours?"

- Tango does not break his "pathetic death" curse. Just blipped out of existence. Love that for him.

- Spitting, crying... BigB panics and flees into his creepy backrooms for safety. Immediately vanishes into the tunnel maze. Scar pursues and skids to a halt because he hasn't seen it yet and is thoroughly creeped out.

- Scar coming up to surface and trying to describe how BigB disappeared. Martyn looks down at where they're standing and is just like "Oh, that's the backrooms." Mental image of Scar as that meme that goes "The. what."

- Scar describing BigB as a sneaky squirrel. "Squirrel" was the name of BigB's horse in Double Life.

- Joel's anxiety about entering a Nether portal on the final episode, specifically because of how he and Etho perma-died in Double Life

- Whatever was going on with Martyn flinging ender pearls up the ladder seconds before he died

- Additionally, people in the background commenting that they think Martyn's teamed up with Cleo and the only reason he was near them was an attempt to bear down and kill them

- Scar to Bdubs, watching Cleo and Etho from a distance: "Look at this- Mom and Dad are bringing their new ugly stepson to meet us, Bdubs." /camera pans to the warden chasing them

- Bdubs tells Scar that Cleo said he was her favorite son and Scar IMMEDIATELY, without responding or even waiting for Bdubs to finish his sentence, jumps a wall and books it to Cleo to confirm... Mental image of him swinging dramatically over it with one hand, his shawl billowing behind him

- Scar chases Cleo while they're both being pursued by a warden, asking her if he's her favorite son. Doesn't let up until she assures him she "just said it to keep Bdubs happy." what is wrong with the Clocker family.

- Joel somehow pulled off a beautiful PVP kill on Skizz despite having only 2.5 hearts

- In earlier episodes, Joel had people say "The florist sends his regards" on his behalf before striking. Before killing Skizz, he says "Scar sends his regards" since Scar really wanted to kill Skizz but bequeathed the fight to Joel instead.

- Scar trotting up to Etho and Cleo, who are watching him from a cliff, and announcing "I am not up to anything nefarious!"

- Scar's weird spiky wall design is really pretty

- slkdjfskldjfsklj?!?!?!? I had a bullet point on this list that said "Honorable non-finale mention to Scar getting both the Green and Yellow kill on Etho this season" but now I see I need to correct that:

- Shout-out to Scar killing Etho - in Etho's front yard - THREE TIMES this season. Etho rushing back to his base, tripping over his feet and saying "I'm going home, everybody- I'm dying at my home-"

- Scott to Scar: "I went down to BigB - to get him - and I see what you mean; he does just talk his way out of things so you feel bad; you just leave him." / Scar: "That's why you don't let him speak. You just inner monologue. You start talking about Star Wars so you can't hear his charms."

- As Scar drives his sword into Cleo, he says "Good-bye, Mom- This is for you telling Bdubs [he's your] favorite." Geez, dude. Scar killed both his parents; this family is a mess. Bonus points for Joel fumbling in the background like "Oh my gosh- Scar, you savage-"

- I watched multiple POVs until I was caught up to the standoff between Gem & The Scotts vs. The Mounders... So picking up from there with Scar's POV b/c his is the one I randomly started with today: I love how Joel basically went "I am once again throwing caution to the wind and charging into battle with a murderous Red rage in my eyes and no one behind me" like he ALWAYS does.

- Bdubs and Scar decide to back him up... Amazing.

- Scar has gotten 4 kills (Tango, Etho, Cleo, Impulse) and he was super close to getting BigB as well before Scott sniped the kill. Geez... The man is vicious today. During Limited Life, Grian made a comment that went something like "Of course Scar is only destructive / successful when I'm not on his team" and honestly? Yeah...

- Pearl begging Scar to kill her- Pearl warning Scar that if she perma-kills Gem, she'll go up 10 hearts- Scar refusing, insisting that he doesn't want to turn on her because it feels lame...

- Scar got Gem, he got Gem... GeminiSlay is DOWN!

- SCAR SWEEP WITH THE BOW!!

Oh my goodness, I saw his episode title ("Can Villain Scar Win?") and the words that went through my head were "Welp, that's a spoiler that he's dead." I see I was wrong.

GG, SCAR WIN!!! Man who wanted so desperately to have friends, only to trip and fail time and time again... GoodTimesWithVictor!!

My heart, Scar letting that zombie knock him down to half a heart... playing up like he didn't just watch the lightning bolt mark Pearl's demise. He wanders, calling out to Pearl, asking where she went... quietly giggling and muttering to himself as that zombie pushes at him... GG, Scar. GG.

My goodness, is this the only time we haven't seen the winner die in their perspective? Scar slams that success button for winning the game, gets 5 hearts, turns back, and that's it... That's the game. End scene.

What a LAD!!

[weaveandwood]

The First Time

Pairing: Alistair x Female Mahariel (Ellaria, a dual wielding rogue) Words: 4.2K NSFW

Summary:

Alistair Theirin did not expect many things that had happened to him since he became a Grey Warden. He didn't expect to be betrayed at Ostagar. He didn't expect to lose his mentor. He didn't expect to be one of the only two Wardens left in Ferelden that he knew of. He didn't expect to be traveling with such an...eclectic group.

Above all of this, he certainly didn't expect to fall in love with his fellow Grey Warden, a Dalish elf named Ellaria. Could she feel the same?

AN: In my playthrough, the scene for Alistair asking to spend the night with my warden triggered after the Urn of Sacred Ashes quest, which requires everyone to take off their clothes. I thought the timing was hilarious, and this one shot was born.

Read on AO3! comments and reblogs are very appreciated!

Alistair didn’t know what made him start feeling this way about Ellaria. He paced around his tent - and really, pacing was being generous. It was more like turning in circles. Slowly. He was a tall man and it was a small tent, after all. 

Was it her bravery? She had been tireless, fierce, stunningly brutal every day since he met her. Whether it was leaping onto an ogre to deal the killing strike or telling off his half-sister in Denerim, she was unwavering. 

Could it have been her beauty? When she was cleansed by fire to retrieve a pinch from the urn of sacred ashes to help Arl Eamon, just hours before, he had never seen her so…exposed. He would have to be a blind and incredibly stupid man to not admit that seeing her in that state of undress sent a hot flush through him he was surprised Morrigan did not comment upon. 

Maybe it was that she listened to him. He had mentioned his mother’s broken amulet as a regret he had, in passing, never expecting her to place it into his palm with an excited smile. Of course I remembered, you are special to me.

Or was it before that? At the Circle Tower, when they passed the tortured templar she remarked to him that she was glad he was not a templar anymore. Or even the first time they spoke at Ostagar, when she called him a strange human. 

How it started didn’t matter, he supposed, just that it did. Perhaps he fell for her over time, a trickle of interest slowly turning into a waterfall of feelings that landed on him all at once. He fell in love. With a fellow Grey Warden. During a blight. And they were the only two left to end it. Perfect timing, really. 

Which is why he couldn’t wait any longer.

He left his tent knowing she was on her shift for watch duty, and found her staring into the nearby campfire while absentmindedly petting Barkspawn. The fire cast a warm glow on her, turning her white hair and fair skin almost golden. Her brow was furrowed, a sure sign she was deep in thought. Tomorrow they would journey into Orzammar and with the way their luck was headed, into the Deep Roads. He closed his eyes, pushing the thought out of his mind. Still, the Deep Roads was where Grey Wardens went to die, and he would never forgive himself if something happened with words left unspoken or actions left undone. 

He felt his heart start to race as he drew nearer to her before settling down on the ground beside her. A pit threatened to form in his stomach before she glanced over at him and gave him a soft smile that instantly reassured him. She took his hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world, like it was something easy, something instinctual she just did when they were near each other. He sighed.

“Is everything okay? Why are you not resting like all of the others? Tomorrow will be a long day of travel,” she said, her attention focused on him now instead of the images she must have been seeing play out in the flames. He thought he saw a glare from Barkspawn. 

Now or never. 

“I…I really don’t know how to ask you this,” he stammered as he looked at her from the corner of his eyes, her face turned to him. Those deep green eyes he adored were highlighted by the orange light of the fire. This was not helping. He dragged his hand down his face. “You’d think it would be easier by now, but every time I’m around you, I feel as if my head is about to explode - in a good way! I just can’t think straight!” He felt his cheeks starting to burn hot and his resolve starting to waver. 

She laughed, the sound high and clear in the crisp night air. Oh, he loved all of her laughs, but this one in particular was his favorite - the one laugh she had when she was caught off guard by something he said or did. He loved it so much that he did everything he could to coax it out of her while they were at camp after long days of fighting darkspawn, bandits, and demons, no matter how silly it made him look. 

“You know, I feel the same way when I’m around you,” she said. Barkspawn had flopped over on his side and she was scratching his belly now. Lucky dog. He would give anything to feel her fingers on his skin, to only feel each other instead of fumbling around clothes or armor when they kissed in his tent in the evenings, away from the prying eyes of their companions. Well, friends at this point, he supposed. You couldn’t walk away from the things they had seen without being friends at least. He scolded himself internally, not wanting his mind to wander to Sten or Wynne or, Maker forbid, Zevran while he was trying to drum up the confidence to ask what he was attempting to. He turned his body to face her, keeping her hand in his. His heart now felt like a war drum, one beat away from pounding through his chest. She did the same and earned a whine from Barkspawn once her hand stopped scratching. 

“Here’s the thing, Ellaria: You are impulsive, you run headfirst into danger, you’re always putting yourself right in the middle of all the darkspawn or bandits or whoever else…being near you makes me crazy.” He saw her eyes drop and felt her starting to pull her hand away, quickly realizing he had only named negative things. He held on to her hand tighter, placing his other one on top. “You’re brave, you’re fierce, you’re protective, you’re beautiful…I can’t imagine being without you. Not ever.”

“Oh,” she said. He could see a faint flush on her cheek and the softest hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth at his confession.  

“I don’t know how to say this any better so here goes. I want to spend the night with you. Here. Tonight. In camp. Is this too fast? It might be too fast, I don’t know. I know what I feel, and what I feel is that I want to be with you. We stumbled into each other, and despite this not being the perfect time, the perfect place, I found myself falling for you in between the fighting and everything else. Honestly, even during the fighting - you’re quite breathtaking.” Visions of her sweaty and panting and covered in blood flashed through his mind. He wanted to recreate it -  minus the blood. 

“I guess you really liked what you saw in the temple today?” She laughed as he stammered and flushed a bright red, rubbing his neck with his hand. “Alistair, Alistair! I am teasing you. But…are you sure? Even though I am not…I am not human? I know what people say about elves. I have heard a lot of it on our travels,” she said, sounding uncharacteristically nervous around him. Every time someone called her knife-ear or rabbit, he saw red. He had never and would never consider her any different from any other person they had come across just because of the shape of her ears, her shorter stature, or the elegant swirling tattoo on her face. 

“Honestly, at this point I think elves are better than humans,” he smiled softly at her, stroking her knuckles with the pad of his thumb. “I really don’t want to wait anymore. I’ve never done this before and I want it to be with you, while we have the chance. In case…” he trailed off, fear of the Deep Roads seeping into his veins. 

“I want it to be with you, too,” she smiled up at him. “My first time. I was hoping you would ask.” 

This time, he was the one who laughed as pure relief flooded his system. He kissed her softly. “Come to my tent after your watch ends.” 

The next few hours felt like an eternity. Alistair had tidied up his meager belongings, everything folded and placed into a neat stack in the farthest corner of his tent, which was actually not that far away at all. He lay on his bedroll, willing at least a little sleep to come but it was as elusive as it had been most nights since their journey began. So he lay there, staring up at the fabric of his tent and attempted unsuccessfully to calm his nerves while he waited for her. 

“Alistair?” he heard her whisper quietly, checking to see if he was still awake. Finally. He bolted upright, glad for the darkness to camouflage his awkward movements.

“Over here, Ellaria,” he said softly, reaching out for her hand as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. He should have had a candle lit. Should he light one now? Or would fumbling in the dark be better than fumbling in the light? His nerves caught up to him again as the reality of what they were about to do sank in. Her smaller hand clasped in his, he felt her kneel beside him. This wouldn’t do - he wanted to see her and decided right then and there that lighting a candle was the course of action to take. He placed the candleholder down on a book he used more often than not as a table rather than reading material, the small flame throwing just enough flickering light in the tent to send the darkness fleeing to the edges and corners. 

“You are so beautiful,” he said, smoothing her hair behind her delicately pointed ear. He brushed the tip of it with his finger, eliciting a small gasp from her lips. His eyes, instantly drawn to the source of the sound, took in their gentle curve, the full pout of her bottom lip, the slightly downturned corners that made her always look like she was deep in thought. He could no longer resist, closing the distance between them and pressing his own lips gently against hers as they had done for so many nights now since the night he gave her the rose outside Honnleath. This time, however, there was an undercurrent of something different, an anticipation of what was to come as their kisses grew more intense and their tongues danced, finding a rhythm that built and built. His hands fell to her waist, grateful more than ever for the Dalish dress style - the bare expanse of her stomach was one of the first things that drew his attention to her when she walked up to him at Ostagar, before he really knew her. Now it seemed like a bonus. In addition to the privilege of knowing her, he was also able to see those muscles flex and relax as she fought, or walked, or even laughed. 

He felt her fingers, fine and light, reach for the bottom of his shirt, crumpled from tossing and turning with unsuccessful sleep. She lifted it up, smiling against his kiss as she struggled. Impatient, he broke the kiss, pulling the shirt quickly over his head, leaving him bare chested in front of her. Obviously, she had seen him without a shirt on as he washed in rivers and streams, but this was different. Everything would be different after this. She reached out, running her hands through the fine hair that dusted his chest and left goosebumps in her path before turning around and allowing him to loosen the laces on the top she wore for sleeping. She pulled it off over her head, and he traced the faint red marks on her skin from where it had slightly dug in. She let out the softest sigh as he kissed the joining of her neck and shoulder, tilting her head to allow him more access which he gladly accepted.

She laughed softly. “I do not know why I am so nervous to turn around.” 

“I promise you will get nothing but rave reviews here,” he said, placing a kiss on her shoulder, her skin smooth and cool beneath his lips. 

She turned around and his heart skipped a beat. She was gorgeous when fully clothed, but she was without a doubt earth-shatteringly beautiful half undressed. He felt himself stir as he took her in, his eyes sweeping down to her breasts, small but perfect, nipples perked once exposed to the cool night air in his tent, before meeting her eyes again. 

“Beautiful,” was all he could whisper. 

She reached one hand around the back of his neck, pulling him to her to kiss her again while the other threaded through his hair, her nails sending delightful tingles through him. He would have to remember this, he wanted her to scratch his head for hours. Now he understood why Barkspawn was so upset when he interrupted earlier. Stop thinking about the dog, Alistair. Half naked Ellaria, right in front of you . His hand moved from her waist to her breast, fully covering it and squeezing lightly. It was softer than he thought it would be, given how lean and muscular she was. His thumb traced lightly over her nipple, feeling it grow even harder under his touch. The way her body reacted to him sent a crackling warmth through him. He crashed his lips against hers, kissing her deeply and pulling her onto his lap though he knew she could feel him growing harder for her with each second that passed. She pressed her hips against his, the pressure causing him to groan softly into her mouth. The sound made her press against him again and again, her hips slowly rocking against him. He rocked his own hips back into hers, a preview of how the night would end, if all went well. He needed her. He had never been with anyone before and yet he knew he needed her more than he had ever needed anything in his life. His fingers went to the drawstring of her loose sleeping pants, untying it, ready to cross the line from innocent flirting and kissing to something else.  

She smiled and climbed off his lap to stand before him. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of her pants, pushing them off her hips slowly, exposing more of her fair skin than he had ever seen. He discovered lines of scars, both old and new. He discovered the patch of soft white curls between her legs. He discovered just how muscular her thighs were as he smoothed his hands over them, her pants and undergarments in a puddle at her feet. He thought he had a good idea of what she would look like from the temple, but seeing her up close, fully undressed? His imaginings didn’t come close to doing her justice. He stood up, his fingertips slowly tracing the outlines of her body - her hips, the underside of her breasts, her nipples, her collarbone, the sides of her neck. He wanted to commit every curve of hers to memory. He wanted to remember this for the rest of his life, no matter how long that life would be - days or weeks or months or, if they were lucky, years. 

“Ellaria, you…I don’t have words,” he said softly, reverently. He quickly undid the laces of his own pants, pushing them and his smallclothes down without the finesse he used on hers. He watched as her eyes moved over his body, taking him in.  He could feel himself flushing under the weight of her stare and felt the slightest tinge of shyness as he was fully bared in front of her for the first time. He had no worries about his size, having been told during his short time with the other Wardens that he should be proud of the sword he wielded - typical brotherly ribbing, but it did wonders for his confidence in this matter at least. She said earlier this would be her first time too, but he knew she was betrothed before all of…this, and he didn’t know what she had to compare against. He supposed it didn’t matter, at the end of things. He just hoped the rest of him was enough. That he was enough. That he deserved her. 

“Creators,” she whispered. “I am lucky,” she teased. 

She stood on her toes to kiss him, and he bent down as they did night after night to negate the vast differences in their heights. He stood a good foot taller than her, and he would be the first to admit it was easier to kiss her sitting down. He imagined it would be even easier to kiss her laying down. The thought sent a hum through him, settling into his abdomen. He felt himself pressed against her hip, impossibly hard for her. She reached between them, her fingers brushing against him with featherlight touches that caused him to gasp and press his hips harder into her. She wrapped her fingers around him and began to stroke him slowly, her hand moving from the base to the sensitive tip. He tipped his head back and saw stars. Never would he have imagined that someone else touching him would feel so…different. In a good way. In the best way. Better than his own hand felt when he pictured a night like tonight, with her. 

He wanted to make her feel this good. 

“Alistair, maybe we should…lay down?”

“Good -” his voice cracked. He cleared his throat while she giggled. “Good idea.”

They lay on the bedroll, facing each other, kissing each other. Her mouth moved from his lips to the corner of his jaw, then to his earlobe, lightly nipping at it because she knew it drove him crazy. The soft moan that escaped his lips was proof enough. His hand moved down her body - ribs, waist, hip, thigh, inner thigh.

“Can I touch you?” He whispered. 

“If you did not I would be very upset,” she replied softly before going back to work on his earlobe, then down his neck. She kissed him again as his fingers parted her, feeling this part of her, of any woman, for the first time. It was soft, warm, wet. And utterly foreign. 

“Show me where,” he said. He felt her hand on his, guiding him to where he assumed she touched herself at night. That was a thought to come back to later on a night spent alone, he mentally noted. He rubbed her in gentle circles, her hand guiding him before she pulled it away. Left to his own devices, he kept the same rhythm, her soft breaths acting as her approval of his technique. He sped up slightly, her hips starting to move against his hand. 

Her fingers wrapped around him again in a tighter grip than before, a groan escaping his lips when her thumb used the bead of moisture that had collected at the tip to help her stroke him. He couldn’t help but thrust slightly into her hand while moving his hand down to her entrance, a finger slowly slipping in and instantly wrapped in tight warmth. He moved in the same rhythm she did, easily able to glide his finger in and out, in and out, in and - 

Maker , the sounds she was making. If she felt this good around his finger, how would he be able to survive entering her? He couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Ellaria, I want to be inside you,” he whispered into her ear. 

“Please,” she moaned softly. “I am ready. I want you.” 

She rolled to her back, looking up at him as he moved between her now spread legs, using his thighs to spread them farther. His breathing picked up, his heart racing once more. No turning back now, not that he would have wanted to. This, with her, was everything he dreamed about these last few weeks. He wrapped a hand around himself and lined himself up at her entrance. It was at this moment he had a dreadful thought that he might be uncomfortable for her. He looked into her eyes, and she nodded. 

“Please,” she whispered. 

“You’ll let me know if I need to slow down, or anything?” he asked, getting another nod in return. He pressed forward slowly, so slowly , the tip entering her at last. He breathed deeply. Keeping eye contact, he looked for any sign of her discomfort as he kept pressing little by little. Finding none, he sank into her inch by inch, feeling her give and stretch around him as he entered her. Her moans filled the tent, and he was positive whoever had the next watch could hear them. A thrill went through him as he found himself almost fully sheathed inside her, the sheer realization that he was inside her sending a jolt of lightning through his veins. He stayed there for a moment, letting her get used to the feeling. And if he was being honest, letting himself get used to the feeling as well. He was not prepared for how warm she would be, how tight she would be, how wet she would be as he found himself enveloped by her. For him, all for him, because of him. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, breathless. 

“Better than okay,” she smiled. He took her in. She was…everything. Her white hair was splayed out on his thin pillow, the flickering candlelight throwing dancing waves of light over her body. She was divine, she was his religion, she was his life now. He would swear any oath to her that she wished for, any desire she had was his to fulfill. And he would, gladly. 

He leaned over her, his arms on either side of her head, and pulled back his hips, then pressed them forward. Pulled back and pressed forward again. And again. And again. He kissed her neck, the soft skin muffling the sound of his own moans, her soft gasps landing on his ears like the gentlest of butterflies. He lowered himself on top of her, needing to feel her body pressed against his, wanting her skin against his. He wrapped an arm around her back, holding her tightly as he thrust slowly, deeply inside her, each slow roll of his hips feeling better than the last, somehow. 

“Alistair…” she whispered, “more, I want more.” 

A fire pooled in his abdomen, desire taking the lead. He moved back to his knees, his hands grasping her hips. He picked up his pace, moving faster, thrusting a little harder. Together, they lost themselves to the moment. There was no Blight, no darkspawn, no archdemon. There was only this tent, this candle, this feeling. She held onto his arms, arching her back against the bedroll. He watched her breasts move each time their hips met. He watched the muscles of her stomach flex when she rocked her hips to meet him each time he thrust into her. He watched where their bodies met, her slick arousal coating him - the image alone making him veer dangerously close to the edge. He could feel it, just on the margins of his awareness. 

“Ellaria…I…” he panted. “I don’t know if I can last much longer.”

“Just a little longer, please, I am almost...there,” she moaned. 

“As you wish,” he joked, hoping that just a little longer was not that long at all. He focused on keeping the same rhythm, keeping the same pace, and listening to the sounds she was making. He felt her start to tighten around him - a little at first, then tighter and tighter. Her body tensed up and she grew quiet. He took one of her hands in his, squeezing, and she threw her head back and cried out, his name on her lips as she found her release, her orgasm rocking through her, making her tremble and shake beneath him. The feeling of her pulsing and fluttering around him made him lose what little control he had remaining. He dug his fingertips into the one hip he was still holding and thrust into her with reckless abandon. The fire in his abdomen turned into tension, building and building, moving lower and lower. He kept eye contact with her as he drove into her one last time, calling her name as he felt his release fill her. He could have sworn for that moment that the world stopped turning.

He looked at her - she was sweaty and panting, his mental images from earlier come to life. He fell down onto the bedroll beside her, laughing as their shoulders touched.

“Why are you laughing?” 

“According to the Chantry sisters, I should have been struck by lightning by now, and here I am...suspiciously lightning free.” 

“Maybe I should be thankful for their error - I do not want to be struck by lightning. You should have mentioned that was a possibility before we spent the night together, I may have changed my mind,” she teased before rolling onto her side to face him. Maker, she was so beautiful - even more beautiful now than she was when the night began. Something swelled within him he had no hope of ever containing. Not now. Especially not now. He didn’t want to contain it. It was bad timing, a bad situation, and probably doomed, but he had to get it out.

“I love you,” he said. 

Her eyes widened slightly before she broke out into a smile. 

“ Ar lath ma, vhenan. I love you, too.”

[bluerose5]

When Anders didn't show up for supper that night, Gale tried not to worry.

Given all that he had been through, Anders needed time to himself, he tried to reason, but it was a futile effort.

He could only pour over scrolls for so long before he went in search for him.

Not that he had to go far.

Anders was still in camp at least, perched on an outcropping of rock that overlooked the nearby lake.

He waved his hand through the air in intricate patterns, and wisps of light burst forth in an array of colors, forming shapes as he willed it.

Before Gale had a chance to announce his presence, Anders angled his head ever so slightly to the side and spoke.

"Surprised it took you this long to come find me," he greeted.

After a split second of hesitation, Gale stepped forward to join him, taking a seat on the rock beside him as silver moonlight shined down on them from above.

"How did you know I was there?" he asked, watching the first wisp dissipate before Anders crafted another.

"I was what my people called a Grey Warden, remember?" he said as way of explanation. "Always had to be alert in case of a random darkspawn attack." His face scrunched up then, nose wrinkled in disdain. "And it always paid to be vigilant in the Circles."

Gale watched him closely, how he steeled himself at the mere mention of the Circles, how guarded his expression became.

It hurt in a way that he had no words for, to hear what he had suffered in that Thedas of his for simply possessing magic.

It was mind-boggling to Gale, the very notion...

In an attempt to turn both of their minds away to less infuriating subjects, Gale nodded at Anders' light display.

"Having fun?" he asked, glad to see it when Anders cracked a smile.

"Yeah, I guess I am," he admitted in a small whisper. "It's calming, you know, to be able to cast for the sake of doing it. To not have to use my magic for battle for once. To not have to hide it for fear of the Templars or the Chantry.

"Maker, I can't even explain to you how happy I am to finally be able to wear robes out in the open again!" Anders laughed, even as his eyes started to glisten with unshed tears. "It might be strange, having to use a source of power other than the Fade, but..."

He trailed off with a shrug, then looked over at Gale, golden brown eyes drinking in the sight of him from head to toe.

Gale shivered when a nightly breeze trailed over him.

Goosebumps spread over his skin like wildfire.

Smirking, Anders leaned in and whispered, "But I had an excellent teacher."

Gale's heart skipped a beat.

"Is that so?" he breathed.

"Mm-hmm..."

Anders' eyes darted down to Gale's lips, and he sank his teeth into his bottom lip.

Gale swallowed thickly in response.

He couldn't help it. He was drawn in like a moth to a flame.

He leaned in closer as well, so close that he could feel Anders' breath upon his lips.

Their noses brushed. They adjusted the angle, but then uncertainty struck Gale at the most inopportune moment.

He averted his eyes with a bashful grin.

"I, uh, ahem." He cleared his throat. "Are we really about to...?"

"To kiss?"

"Uh-huh."

"I don't know," Anders answered. "Are we? Because I'm certainly not opposed."

"Neither am I," Gale said, perhaps a bit too fast, had it been anyone else, "but you deserve a more romantic display, surely!"

"Heh." Anders chucked and shook his head at him in disbelief. "Gale, what could possibly be more romantic than this? Here I am, embracing my freedom with a smart, handsome man such as yourself and getting swept up in the moment under the night sky. Let me spell it out for you: if there was ever a time for you to make your move, then this is it."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Okay, alright. On that note, I must confess," he told him, "that it has been a while since I've been with anyone physically. Turns out, self-imposed isolation isn't exactly conducive to matters of the flesh."

"No matter," Anders said. Reaching out, he grabbed Gale by the fabric of his robes and dragged him forward until their lips were only a hair’s width away. "I have to say it's been a while for me as well. Perhaps this is something we can explore again. Together."

"And Justice?" Gale asked, concerned. "Is he okay with this too?"

"Trust me," Anders said, huffing out a breath of a laugh, "you would know if he had an issue with it. He doesn't." Not now. Not when they had the luxury to focus their attention elsewhere. Not when they didn't have a current cause to consume their days. Anders tightened his grip, pressed himself against him. "Now, kiss me."

"You don't have to tell me twice."

Their lips barely brushed when a voice pierced through the darkness.

"Mr. Dekarios!" Tara called out. "Mr. Dekarios! Where are y— Oh, there you are! And Mr. Anders, too. How delightful!"

They jumped apart, wide-eyed with shock, when their resident tressym made an appearance.

Their faces instantly flooded with warmth, neither of them quite able to meet each other's eyes.

Tara sat down a few feet away, staring at them intently.

"Mr. Dekarios! The gravest emergency has occurred, and I need your immediate assistance." It was then that she sensed the tension between the two, her ears perking up. "Wait! I wasn't interrupting anything, was I?"

"No!" they both answered, but Tara was far from dumb.

"Oh, my! I was, wasn't I? Well, by all means, don't let me interrupt," she said, yet she made no move to leave, watching them as her wings fluttered.

Gale grimaced.

Anders had to slap a hand over his mouth to muffle his giggles, ignoring Gale's glare while he got to his feet.

"Why, Lady Tara, our conversation can surely wait in the face of what sounds like a dire circumstance," Anders said, bowing lightly to her. "May I?"

She tilted her head up and said, "You may."

Anders gathered her into his arms.

"What a gentleman!" she praised as he pet her. "Isn't he such a darling, Mr. Dekarios?"

"Yes, Tara, he is," Gale said, following their lead as he stood up with a groan. "Now, what is this emergency you spoke of?"

"Ah, yes!" She ruffled her feathers. "Sir Astarion left at the most inopportune time to go hunting. Usually, he is up for such a task, but my feathers need preening and my fur needs brushing before I head to bed. It is a task of the utmost importance, you understand."

"But of course," Anders readily agreed. "Let's see to that at once, shall we?"

"Leave it to you to encourage her," Gale sighed.

"Try not to get jealous," Anders teased, leading the way to his tent. "I'll make sure to spare some time for you later. We still have much to discuss, after all."

"That, we do."

[amethystfairy1]

I keep thinking about Cub in TTSBC and How he got into college, if that was his first time topside and he was from the Deep Dark with no support?? Does he have family (I feel like warden mutants wouldn’t do super big groups like blazeborn clans)? And I was thinking how he probably hasn’t gone back since he went up, and also how overstimulating the near surface would be for a warden mutant. Like…there is redstone everywhere and they for sure can hear it. All the rail carts and people on top of that? At least topside you can find quiet places, but if you were fully in the near surface, you’d have to find a hideyhole like tango’s house for even relative peace. I was also thinking that Cub might be able to hear Grian’s wings if they moved under his sweater, whenever they meet, but he probably hasn’t spent enough time around other hybrid types to pick that out. He probably tries to ignore bodily sounds as a habit. I just…Cub. I want more Cub. I want to knowwwwwww.

Cub, Cub, Cub!

I'm serious I was not expecting TTSBC!Cub to be the brainrot for so many folks and yet here we are 😆 I'm so glad you like him so much, I love him too and I have lots of plans to write more for him I promise!

But for now...

I actually made a 'Warden Lore' post not long ago in response to another ask, but basically Cub got a scholarship through the acclimation program! Cub in the present day is 35, he's the same age as Scar. That makes him three years older than Pearl and Grian, and five years older than Jimmy. When he went topside via the acclimation program he was one of the first new batch of kids to do so post-Anarchy. He's another gutter rat with no family and no support, and you're right! Warden Mutants are very solitary my nature...a lot of them are also tangled up in organized crime groups that moved to the Deep Dark after Etho's gang with it's lab-backed support forced them to stop operating so publicly within the Depths.

You're absolutely right! Cub hasn't gone back to the Deep Dark since he was eighteen. He does occasionally return to the Under-City, but only like once a year. He goes to a clinic in the near-surface for his medical check-ups. And he does hate the near-surface for all the reasons you said, it's soooo loud and sooo crowded and sooo busy and he also has to ride the rail carts which made so much noise, so Cub puts off his medical check-ups for as long as possible every year because he doesn't wanna go. 😭

Cub does have the tendency to tune things in and out to avoid getting completely overstimulated every five seconds, because I mean...the poor guy's hearing is insane, and it gets stronger the more anxious/scared he gets because it's a survival mechanism, so when he starts having a panic he's gotta try his best to keep his calm because once he starts spiraling things only get ever louder.

Poor Cub. 😓

[avrorean]

wait why does Nanna not like Cullen?

I'm gonna take this as like, a character question and hope you're not offput or slighted as a cullen fan or a mage warden/cullen shipper ofjgodsfjosidd.

So it isn't really about Nanna not liking Cullen. Something I think needs to be understood is Nanna is First Enchanter Irving's apprentice - that isn't something I made for her specifically, that's dialogue confirmed in the Tower for every mage warden. You are Irving's Talented Apprentice. She's been witness to plenty of his arguments with Greagoir and has no doubt heard his complaints outside of them, something implied when you choose dialogue with him that's critical of the Knight-Commander. She's already primed and trained against trusting templars, because Irving doesn't trust the templars, and in some ambient dialogue with other mages you can understand why. They show almost immediately that the Templars already abuse their power over the apprentices, the youngest or least capable, in small ways; wariness is for her own safety.

In fact in this instance, it doesn't really have anything to do with Cullen himself or what it's assumed he would do. We know at this point he's very dedicated to not being inappropriate with his charges, he's sympathetic to an extent (but fun fact, if you play a male mage, you see he already has those seeds of paranoia against mages planted this early; cause that's what templar training does), it's extremely unlikely that he'd ever hurt her on his own. I'm sure he'd be very sweet in a vacuum.

But even disregarding that the threat that exists inherently, as I'm about to show, as soon as there's an order from someone higher than him, her life is in danger. And as Irving's apprentice, this is something she is already very aware of.

Cullen: O-Oh, um, h-hello. I...uh, am glad to see your Harrowing went smoothly. Warden: Hello, Cullen. Cullen: Th-They picked me as the Templar to strike the killing blow if...if you became an abomination. It's nothing personal, I swear! I-I'm just glad you're alright, you know? Jowan: psst, someone likes you! Warden: Would you have really struck me down? Cullen: I would have felt terrible about it... But... But I serve the Chantry and The Maker. And I will do as I'm commanded.

Slow down there, Romeo. all that just from saying hello. thanks buddy.

I think it's kind of funny that this is framed like a meet-cute with an awkward boy on the surface, but kind of insidiously is a prime example of why a templar-mage relationship within a Circle fundamentally cannot work. At least not healthily. You can be the sweetest, most sexless, classic courtly romance in the world, but as soon as the templar is given an order, that they'll choose the mage's life over their divine duty is slim. The templar inherently has power over their life. Even the good relationships where they do choose their love over duty, like Rhys and Evangeline, kind of inherently carry that power dynamic.

There's also just the fact that this man is not discreet even outside of this conversation. Everyone is telling her every 2 steps that this Templar is in love with you, he's so in love with you, dear maker have you heard this templar is in love with you. You hear about his crush on her LONG before you ever see this man's face. So suffice it to say that Nanna is very aware that she's caught the eye of a templar, and everything that she knows tells her this is a danger zone. So she smiles, she's polite, but this really isn't something she wants to deal with.

also I just wanna. pick through his dialogue real quick in Broken Circle

Cullen: This trick, again? I know what you are. It won't work. I will stay strong... warden: Cullen! Don't you recognize me? Cullen: Only too well. How deep they must have delved into my thoughts.... Cullen: Sifting through my thoughts... tempting me with the one thing I've always wanted but could never have. Using my shame against me, my ill-advised infatuation with her. A mage, of all things. Cullen: I am beyond caring what you think! The Maker knows my sin, and I pray he will forgive me. [...] You are a mage, and I a Templar. It is my duty to oppose you and all you are. Cullen: And to think, I once thought we were too hard on you.

I know a lot of people take this as ship material for cullen & a mage warden, but Nanna does not find this flattering. This is lowkey terrifying. Imagine you've grown up in the Circle and you're being told, in the most off-putting way possible, that your face, your person, and god knows what else has been used by a demon to tempt someone whose job all day is to watch you. Someone who every apprentice prior to this event has loudly announced fancies you, while watching you. And that it has almost worked.

I think it's also interesting to note that he exclusively refers both to his crush on her and her person in a possessive tense. She is the thing he always wanted, she is his shame, his sin, a mage of all things.

And we see in DA2 that he's still hard carrying that torch; when Hawke gets their Amell status back he immediately starts mooning about how special she was. But DA2 is arguably the worst he's ever been in regards to his feelings on mages. And in a less extreme case, it ties into something Anders says in what I believe is the rivalry romance route: you cannot claim to love me and despise what I am. And Nanna is a mage. She is a (mostly) free, distinctly not part of the circle mage. That isn't something that can change for him even if she reciprocated his feelings.

And that isn't to say Cullen isn't a victim in this scenario in regards to Broken Circle or downplay what he's going through in that scene - he absolutely has been tortured and is reacting in trauma. I don't want to downplay that at all. But I feel like to dismiss the implications of that affecting someone else like a mage warden loses some of the interesting factor to it. Nanna, and more broadly mage wardens in general, are also being extremely traumatized in this event, just in a different perspective. She's lost most of the people she's known her whole life too, her friends as well as his. She had to kill some of them herself. It isn't to lessen his suffering, but to highlight their traumas are on the same level, just different in some ways and very the same in others.

I feel similarly on this as I do with Alistair and the Landsmeet; to exclusively attribute the event to how it affects him and no one else involved is to remove the Warden as a character and exclusively view it through the lens of a player. And, yknow, its rp. I'm writing a character. It's not fun like that to just acknowledge a canon character's reaction to events and not the one you're writing.

Currently, being around him makes her uncomfortable. This isn't to say the two can't, at least in a developed Inquisition era, work things out to an extent. These two have a LOT of very complicated, very interconnected trauma that I think would be beneficial in talking to someone who gets it. That's about as close to therapy as Thedas is gonna get. If nothing else, he's made steps and he's been very open to the Inquisitor about wanting to apologize to her. But Cullen is still very Templar-minded in Inquisition, and whether the narrative wants to acknowledge that or not, is still running on a lot of his old biases. Which, that's part of the process, but without more work in that direction I don't see them being much more beyond coworkers, much less developing anything romantic between them. And I don't think it's without reason that Leliana gets increasingly more angry on her behalf in other dialogue over the fact that he keeps asking about her.

[good-beanswrites]

I'm going to do a more serious/sweet one but while trying to write Es-Fuuta sibling dynamic this happened adsfdsf

Es squinted around the scene of the crime. Amane was sitting closest to ground zero: the plate that used to hold Es’ breakfast. Mikoto was at the stove cooking eggs. Fuuta was getting a drink over at the counter. Mahiru sat on the other side of Amane, enjoying some tea. She was the first to notice their expression.

“Is everything alright, Warden?” 

They drew themselves up, glad their uniform heels gave them a bit of extra height. “Do you know where my pastry went?” 

“Ah, I had one ready for everyone! I left one out for you near the toaster~”

“Yes, and I put it on the table. Now it’s gone.” They gestured to the empty plate. Mikoto glanced over. “I was looking forward to it.”

It was an understatement. Mahiru had baked them the night before, and Es had thought about the treat the entirety of the night, and all of the morning. Their stomach grumbled, as if agreeing.

Mahiru shook her head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see anyone move it,” she said.

“Neither have I,” Amane said.

“I don’t know where it went,” Mikoto said. 

Fuuta shrugged.

Es squinted at him. He still stood with his back turned, fumbling with his drink. “Fuuta?”

There was no ‘I didn’t take your fucking pastry!’, no ‘what the hell are you blaming me for?’, no ‘how dare you?’ He just shrugged again, more exaggerated. 

Es moved around the table.  “Fuuta…”

He hurried to turn his body away from them. In doing so, he revealed himself to the others. Mahiru gasped. 

“You ate it!”

Finally he spoke, his voice desperate through the mouthful of food. “I didn’t know!” 

But Es was ready to take down the criminal.

“You ate it??” They grabbed him from behind, preventing his escape. 

“Hey,” came Fuuta’s muddled words, “get off!”

They weren’t really sure what their next move was – it wasn’t like he could give the pasty back. Still, they clung tight. Fuuta tried to shrug them off, but Es would show him they weren't some weak kid he could mess with.

“You think you can just go around stealing my breakfast with no consequences?” They yanked him back, throwing him off balance.

He did his best to stand his ground “I told you –”  he swallowed, erasing all evidence of the awful deed, “– I didn’t even know it was yours!”

“Ha! A convenient excuse!”

The two struggled back and forth. The others looked on with a mix of unease and amusement. They decided not to intervene. Fuuta managed to gain a moment of freedom, only for Es to use the momentum to take them both to the ground. 

They lay sprawled, still arguing about the bygone breakfast, when Jackalope hopped into the kitchen. He stared the two right in the eye.

“A-ah. Jackalope.” Es scrambled to their feet. They coughed. “My apologies. I was simply… delivering some justice.”

Fuuta stood as well, brushing himself off. “Some justice! This was as shoddy as your usual warden duties…”

They glared at one another. 

The rabbit just stared. 

Es bowed their head, their expression calming down. “My apologies. I may have gotten a bit carried away.” Jackalope started hopping away. Es moved to follow him, muttering, “Fuuta was the one who started it, though.”

“Like hell I did!”

“The pastry didn’t eat itself, now did it?”

“I didn’t just fucking fall to the ground myself, did I?”

“I’ve seen you do it before…”

“I swear, I’m gonna…!”

[vivispec]

Me: I'm gonna liveblog my thoughts!

Also me: Goes silent for two days

So here's my thoughts. I'm just about to go see the Wardens for the first time, so under the cut there may be spoilers pre that quest. Also am caught up on companion quests. Spoiler light, just impressions, no specifics.

I was a bit nervous going in that bellara would only be silly lady without depth, but that first quest of hers GUT me. I'm definitely excited to romance her. It fits with my Rook's story so well!

Speaking of, I'm so glad we get confirmation that Rook's been chilling with Varric for 6 months. Mine went through the ringer pre-game, so having a nice buffer where she gets to heal a bit makes the dialogue feel more natural.

I'm really surprised by Lucanis? I did not care about him before this (I don't tend to like Fandom darlings) but the more time I spend with him, the more I love him. A lot more wholesome than I was expecting. I thought Lace would be the mom of the group but now I'm wondering...

Solas is an ASS. I love it. I always found that side of him in Inquisition to be super interesting, especially when compared to a friendship/romance. With how sad he was looking in the promo material, I thought they'd maybe replaced that. SO wrong.

[animentality]

Sorry if this has been asked before, but I'm curious. How much of a part do you think ketheric played in durge's downfall? I recently replayed moonrise and ketheric is smirking and gloating and the narrator even mentions he knows exactly who you are but will never tell. Gortash's memoirs indicate that they learned about the elder brain after visiting moonrise, and the warden says that durge only ever visited once and never left. Maybe durge and Gortash learned about the brain then just ran off to conspire together, giggling and plotting, and ketheric was just done? Especially since Durge and Gortash came up with the plan without him - leaving ketheric out while in his own domain. Plus, how did orin know they were even there? I can't see durge telling their underling about their plans. Did ketheric somehow find out about her and contact her like "I know how you can remove durge. Btw pretend to be Gortash, trust me"? She had no reason to be there. Plus the way ketheric smirks at durge, commenting "treat me like you would any other chosen" when it had been just him, durge, and Gortash previously, which is basically him saying to give him the respect durge gave Gortash. I feel like ketheric probably played a major role in it and I'm interested in your take on it. Thanks so much!

I never considered the double entendre of "treat me like you would any other chosen" and that was DEFINITELY Ketheric being a little cunty elf, like ok queen, I see you, I hear you, I feel that.

EDIT: Ok, I just checked, and he apparently says, "Obey me like you would any other chosen."

Which is less iconic. But still. Have a cookie for writing that little double entendre better than Larian.

Not so sure on the "obey" part in terms of durgetash though. I highly doubt the Dark Urge ever "obeyed" Gortash just, without question.

But as for if Ketheric was involved...I don't know.

He didn't seem particularly happy to have Orin on board. The plan really started unraveling when the Dark Urge was deposed too. I doubt he liked the power struggle. I don't think he really had a huge issue with the Dark Urge, all my joking aside, only because the plan was going along well when the three of them were working together.

Him smiling and being coy could just be him being amused at their state, since he's an asshole, and the last time the Dark Urge was at Moonrise, he was mad at them about something...

Although...to be fair...I guess we never did know why he was angry at them.

The Dark Urge specific scene says that the Dark Urge was "demanding" something from Ketheric.

But I don't think we ever really know what?

Like they were working together on their brain thing...the fuck were they annoyed about? What were they demanding?

Also...in the timeline where the Dark Urge just dies...Orin hikes their body all the way back to Baldur's Gate, fully intact?

She went all the way to Moonrise, then lugged it back?

I guess that's just nitpicking, but it doesn't totally make sense to me because, first off, I don't understand if Orin tadpoled Durge at moonrise or somewhere else. secondly, I just don't see why Ketheric would support an usuper instead of the Dark Urge.

Ketheric being a smug little bitch only because he hates you on principle would make SENSE. Because he definitely knew you got fucked, since Balthazar is his advisor, and he knows what happened to you. There's no way Balthy wouldn't have told Ketheric, right? So Ketheric just straight up didn't tell Gortash because he's an ass.

And he smirks at you because he's remembering how annoying you are, and he's glad to see that arrogant bhaalspawn put in their proper place.

But the story in terms of how/when the Dark Urge got tadpoled is very scattered! I am not the only person who's noted this. It's a MESS in terms of timelines. Especially where the Dark Urge is concerned.

I really don't know how involved Orin was in the Absolute Plan before she usurped the Dark Urge.

Was she their right hand, and thus, well known? It might make sense for Ketheric to hear her out...but again, I don't think he'd be fond of a power struggle?

Also.

You get tadpoled in the opening...but the Dark Urge is the first tadpole victim.

So I guess you had the misfortune of being tadpoled twice (ahaha, just kidding, this is a nitpick, I know it's the same for everyone).

More seriously though...so the Dark Urge seems to know Enver Gortash is the Chosen of Bane BEFORE they did their little Hall of Wonders date.

But Gortash says that their gods came to them in a dream? And named them as Chosens together, and to seek out Ketheric Thorm?

But then...then they didn't come up with the plan...they got sent to Moonrise...

"Together?"

But...the Dark Urge only went to Moonrise ONCE?

So????

It's CONFLICTING information! It gets even worse when you realize ok, so they went to Moonrise together (maybe?), found the mindflayer colony, realized they could enslave an Elder Brain, then decided to seek out Helsik to steal the Crown...but when they stole it, it's mentioned by Gortash that they "crowned" the Brain and THEN started the cult of the Absolute?

So the Dark Urge would be running through the streets murdering people????

So...where in the plan did the Dark Urge go missing?

So in short.

I really don't think Ketheric was involved in the Dark Urge disappearing...and insofar as, when and how did Orin kill them...

I don't know, but their body is literally in her bedroom if the Dark Urge dies in that timeline.

So...she never tadpoled them...then...who was the first victim?

And also. WHEN DID SHE DO IT?

AAAAARGH.

Anyway.

The wiki conflicts with info in the game, Gortash is a lying slut, the Dark Urge only has three notes and two of them are just thirsting over Gortash, and the other is inviting Orin to split their skull open...

We don't have any correspondence with Ketheric on the Absolute Plan because it's too early to find that out in act 2...

It's a mess, my guy (gn).

I don't even try to piece it together most of the time.

If anyone knows...dm or anon me, and we'll figure this out.

[mumms-the-word]

A Room in Redcliffe

Part 2

Characters: Warden Alistair x Warden Amell (Lucy) Summary: It's 9:42 Dragon and Lucy Amell has finally returned from her quest out west to search for a cure to the Calling. In the last letter she wrote to her husband, Alistair, she asked him to meet her at Redcliffe at the start of summer. She's just arrived to get a room in Redcliffe for the two of them...and hope that he shows up. A/N: A (late-posted) gift for the AWESOME AND TALENTED @elspethdekarios! Glad you've joined me in my DA obsession and that you love Alistair as much as I do! This fic is a continuation of sorts of these Love Letters. Part 1 is here!

Promises, promises. Dangerous currency for a Grey Warden. She’d learned to live with so many little broken promises, they no longer hurt her. How could they, when it was no one person’s fault that the world kept churning out new problems to deal with, new evils to fight, new distractions to keep her and her husband busy?

Sleep finally overtook her sometime in the early hours of the morning, but it was the sleep of muted darkness and little rest. There were no dreams—no more dreams of darkspawn whispers and the song-like call of Old Gods deep below the surface, a blissful difference from the last decade—but neither were there pleasant dreams of home, of houses, of husbands. There was only a strange kind of suspension, until in a blink the night was over.

She awoke when the first stripes of hazy morning light filtered over her face through the shutters, but she kept her eyes shut. If she didn’t open her eyes, perhaps she could imagine his fingers brushing her hair from her face, his lips on her cheek, his voice in her ear, his warmth nearby. If she couldn’t have him in dreams, perhaps she could make-believe he was here now.

Good morning, my love. Ready for another Blight-free day?

Today. They would be back together again today.

The thought snapped her eyes open and set her heart racing. In the morning light, all the dread and anxiety had faded away, leaving only anticipation gripping her chest, a mixture of excitement and nervous energy that was a little like being a child again on a solstice morning. All of a sudden she was a bride again, waking up on the morning of her wedding, anxious to get things over with but eager, excited, giddy at the thought of seeing her love later in the day.

Her love. Alistair. Her husband. The love of her life.

At some point today, he would be waiting at the base of the griffon statue, the one commemorating their deeds in Ferelden. That was where they usually met up, on the rare occasions they were separated for Warden business and reunited here in Redcliffe. She’d counted the steps from the statue to the entrance of the Gull and Lantern yesterday on her way over. 97 steps. If he was there, if he was waiting for her, it would only take 97 steps to reach him again.

That decided it. She tossed the quilt aside and reached for her bag, her mind already three steps ahead as she pulled out her clean clothes and began to get dressed.

Whether he was there bright and early or not, waiting here in this room wasn’t an option.

———

By the time the sun was at its highest point in the sky, Lucy had walked every path in Redcliffe at least twice. Up the grassy hills and rocky slopes toward the old windmill, down toward the water and out along the docks, even up to the doors of the Chantry, though she didn’t go inside. She simply walked, because she knew if she sat at the base of the griffon statue, time would slow to a crawl. So she walked. And she watched.

If she kept moving, the villagers took no notice of her, and she was able to watch them as they went about their everyday lives. Fishermen hauling in their latest catch. Old men and women mending nets by the dockside. Mothers chasing down rambunctious children, or carrying them on their hips as they perused the vegetables and goods on display in the market stalls. Gangly apprentices trailing after their masters and mentors, heading into their shops or smithies or fields for the day.

Just normal people going about their normal lives. No obvious anxious expressions, no thoughts of darkspawn or demons or impending armies. Not since Redcliffe was claimed under the protection of the Inquisition. The village had finally settled into a kind of peaceful, everyday bustle.

She remembered when this place was little more than dusty roads and half-solid barricades, when the people cowered in the Chantry, their faces wan and gaunt after days of being attacked by the undead corpses of their friends, their families, the soldiers that were meant to be protecting them. Now those survivors had lived on. Some of them had married and had children.

She watched as a man paused his work mending a fence to accept a mug of water from his son, a child young enough to have no memories of the Blight at all. The man ruffled his son’s sandy hair affectionately and the child complained through smiles about his father messing up his hair.

So life spun on. As if the Fifth Blight were little more than a small boulder in a river, left behind as life and time flowed unerringly forward around it.

She used to envy people like this, so much. These people and their normal lives. These people and their idle worries.

Now…now maybe she could become like them. With the Calling no longer ringing in her skull, maybe she could have something normal now. Or something close.

She glanced at the sky, noting the position of the sun. She’d spent enough time wandering this part of Redcliffe. Time to return to the statue.

And hope that this time, he would be waiting for her.

———

He was here.

He was here.

Alistair.

His name stuck in her throat as she stood rooted to her place at the bottom of a grassy slope, the statue only twenty or so steps away, scarcely daring to believe her eyes. In the dozens of times she had experienced this moment in her dreams, in the hundreds of times she’d daydreamed their reunion, she never pictured herself frozen to the spot while her mind struggled to comprehend that this was reality, this was real, this was him.

But it was.

He stood facing the griffon statue, arms loosely crossed, his face tilted up toward the statue’s carved beak. He wore no cloak or hood nor any Warden armor, but there was no mistaking him, even in simple traveler’s clothing. Even the townspeople glanced and whispered, hovering to get a better look at him, but Lucy barely noticed them.

Move, Lucy. Move! You know it’s him, so go!

She couldn’t. What if this was a dream again? What if she—

Then he turned his head, bringing his profile into view, and all the doubts and second-guesses that had crowded her mind in those brief fifteen seconds suddenly crumbled into dust.

“Alistair,” she gasped. Suddenly she found her voice again as she rushed forward, nearly flying up the slope. “Alistair!”

He turned at her shout, his face lighting up immediately at the sight of her. “Lucy!”

“You’re here!”

He laughed and flung out his arms to catch her as she launched herself into his embrace, lifting her off the ground as she wrapped her arms tightly around him, burying her face in his shoulder.

This was real. He was real. There in her arms, his nose in her hair, his laughter in her ear.

All at once everything clicked into place again. That the sense of wrong that had followed her ever since she left him behind to journey out west was no longer wrapped around her like a second cloak. Even with him squeezing her so tightly he threatened to force the air from her lungs, she felt as though she could breathe again at last.

“You’re here,” she gasped, tears stinging her eyes and clogging her throat now. “Thank the Maker.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t make it back?” he asked, lowering her back to the ground but not yet letting go. He brushed his lips against her ear in a little kiss. “After all the effort you took to send me that last letter?”

She shook her head, still clinging to him. She didn’t know what she thought. It didn’t matter now.

She pulled away to cradle his face in her hands, searching for hints of what he must have gone through in the last several months away from her. But all she saw looking back at her was her husband, with unshed tears misting over his beautiful brown eyes, the dimple that deepened in his cheek as he smiled down at her, the freckles that dotted his nose, darker than normal. He must have been somewhere with plenty of sun these last few weeks. 

There would be time to ask. There would be all the time in the world to catch up.

She opened her mouth to tell him her news, that she had found it, the cure that would mean no more Calling for him, no more blighted magic in his blood, the thing that spelled out hope and futures and time for the two of them, as much as they dared to make use of. But before she could say any of it, he reached up, brushing his fingers against her cheek.

“Maker’s breath,” he breathed. “You’re even more beautiful than when I last saw you.”

Her lips quivered with barely contained sobs, a torrent of tears that she could scarcely hold back, and then his lips were on hers. She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing into him, opening her mouth to his as he kissed her like a man desperate for air.

She had missed this, desperately.

In the back of her mind, she knew they were making a scene. People would talk. People were already talking. But she didn’t care. She’d gone without his lips, his hands, his heart for over a year now, and nothing was going to stop her from savoring this moment.

“I found it, Alistair,” she wept, her mouth against his. “We don’t ever have to be separated again.”

———

“Alistair,” Lucy said quietly, her head on her husband’s shoulder. “Do you remember the first time we were in this room?”

They lay together again at last, their arms around each other, watching the evening sky quickly darkening from shades of deep orange and red to twilight purple, the shutters wide open in hopes of another breeze to cool their heated skin. Outside, the branches of the tree that grew beneath their window swayed gently, the rustling of its summer green leaves almost lost beneath the murmur of conversation one floor below them.

They’d already shared so much in the hours since they’d reunited at the statue, and yet so much was still left unsaid between them. There were scars on his body she still wanted to ask about, questions she had, desires she wanted him to sate. They’d stumbled blindly into this room within an hour of reuniting and lost themselves in the act of relearning each other’s bodies, burning touches meeting new marks and scars, tracing familiar paths, fingers curling into flesh that hadn’t been touched in months. And when they’d reached their limits, sweat-slicked and gasping, hungry for more yet needing to catch their breaths, they talked, filling the silence with everything they couldn’t write in letters.

She told him of the cure she’d found. He told her of the Elder One. They briefly discussed the future of the Wardens, musings that grew heavy with uncertainty until at last they both decided to leave it for later. There would be time to figure out the next big problem. This day was meant for them.

Which was what brought her question, quietly spoken in the lull of silence that followed another worshipful hour of heady pleasure.

“Do you remember the first time we were in this room?”

He tilted his head, resting his cheek on the top of her head where it lay on his shoulder. “Mm…right after the Blight?”

“Mhm.” She settled more comfortably against his side, in the curve of his arm around her, and whispered, “I’m still thinking about that house we talked about.”

He didn’t say anything at first. She listened to him breathe and tried to picture the pattern he was tracing along her arm as he thought.

This was what she had been missing all those months apart from him. His humor, his light, yes, but also these quiet moments that she could only find with him. Soft breaths and idle touches, the beating of his heart beneath her palm, his body firm and real against hers. If she could trade away everything she owned, everything she could lay claim to, for a guarantee that she would never have to leave his side again, she would.

At last he turned his face and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “A house in Redcliffe, you mean?”

She shrugged. “A house anywhere. Just…” She trailed off and turned to lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, picturing the vision in her mind. “Just you and me and a house of our own. Somewhere quiet and pleasant. Somewhere safe. It doesn’t have to be here. It can be anywhere. Ferelden. The Free Marches.”

“Even Orlais?” he asked, a grin in his voice.

She chuckled. “Okay, maybe not Orlais. I know how you feel about the cheese there.”

He chuckled too and she turned her head to smile up at him. He met her gaze fondly, reaching over to trace the line of her jaw with the back of his fingers. Maker’s breath, she loved him.

“A house in Ferelden or the Free Marches, huh?” he asked softly. “Is that all you want?”

She nodded. “So long as it’s the two of us and a place we can finally call home, I think I could be content.”

“Home,” he repeated in a whisper, playing with her hair. Then he sat up, leaning on one hand and looking down at her. “Just the two of us?”

She bit her lip, fingers picking at the hem of the sheets that lay crumpled over their legs. “Well…maybe the three of us. You know, eventually.”

He arched an eyebrow, grinning slightly. “Just the three of us?”

“The…four of us?” she asked, a little bit of playful hope creeping into her voice.

His grin turned mischievous as he leaned in, dropping his voice with a suggestive, “Hmm, just the four of us?”

She couldn’t help but laugh, propping herself up on one elbow. “How much higher do you want me to count, my love?”

He smirked and shrugged one shoulder. “Well, that depends. Are we counting any dogs? Any stray cats? Do the horses count? I hear breeding mabari is a lucrative trade these days—if we dabble in that, would we count every new litter of puppies?”

She grabbed one of the pillows and smacked him with it. “I’m not talking about animals, Alistair. You know what I mean.”

“Whoa, hey, fine, fine, I know what you mean,” he said, laughing and trying to block her next pillow strike. He managed to wrest the pillow from her grip and tossed it behind him, onto the floor. She went back to resting on her elbow, shaking her head with amused affection.

“So, any preferences?” she asked.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, reaching out and pulling some of her hair over her shoulder, playing lightly with the ends. “Is it terrible if I say I’d be okay with leaving that number up to chance? Just see what the future holds?”

Maybe it was the soothing way he played with her hair, a habit he’d had since their earliest days, but she couldn’t find any reason to find fault with his answer. “Not terrible at all,” she murmured.

“Then we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?”

He combed his fingers gently through her hair, looping thick locks around his first finger the way he had done that first morning they’d shared this room. Her hair had been glossy, thick, and dark back then. Now there were strands of gray mixed in, souvenirs of the last ten years as a Warden, of the last year more directly. She watched him capture a lock of hair between his thumb and forefinger, watched as he fanned out the strands with his thumb, letting the light catch two stray threads of silver there amidst the dark brown. Her breath caught in her throat as he leaned in and kissed the lock of hair before shifting his gaze to meet her own, his expression so painfully full of love and longing that it threatened to bring her to tears.

“Maker’s breath, but you’re beautiful,” he whispered. “I am a lucky man.”

She swallowed hard, her throat tight. “Alistair, I—”

“I love you,” he said. “I know I don’t have all the answers, and I can’t predict anything that will happen to us next, but I do know that much.”

“I love you, too,” she whispered. “Whatever the future holds, I know we can get through it, now that we’re together again.”

“The future.” He smiled then, crooked, affectionate, and shook his head as if in awe. “We have one of those now, thanks to you. You’re amazing, do you know that?”

“Alistair—”

“I mean it.” He kissed her, stopping her protests, letting his lips linger and steal any words she might try to say to prove him otherwise. And when he finally pulled away, cradling her cheek, the love and tenderness in his expression was so deep that any further words died on her tongue.

“I love you,” he said again. “More than I ever thought possible. I love you no matter what happens next. I love you whatever the future holds. I love you, and that will never, ever change. I’m yours forever, my love.”

She nodded, unable to speak all the words she wanted to say out loud, not with more tears constricting her throat and threatening to spill from her eyes. She swallowed, reaching for his hand where it cradled her cheek, and gave his fingers a tight squeeze until at last she was able to say once more the words that mattered the most.

“I love you too, Alistair.”

[newtabfics]

Hey! Can you do an Adaman x reader for me, where she was raised by Zoroarks. She saves him from freezing in a blizzard and so he wants to marry her but she's a little wild so the rest of the clan is hesitant.

I kept this fic a little short because this concept deserves a full fic. I'm talking My Fair Lady/Tarzan level fic. This is going in the back burner of fics I want to write out. I do hope you enjoy this because this little snippet is the bare-bones groundwork of what I want to build off of.

"It's Mr. Adaman! It's Mr. Adaman!" One of the children called out before she screamed in fear at the monster behind him. “There’s a wild Pokemon with him!”

Irida hurried to the village gate and blinked. He just smiled and waved. Behind him was a woman with a Zoroark pelt on her. She looked like the lost child she remembers a village elder describing once before.

“Hey. Sorry i-if I worried you all,” he called out as he approached. Behind him, the woman stopped. He blinked and looked to her. “What’s wrong?” She scrunched her face before eying him. She hadn’t spoken any words back then, but it’s what made her so fascinating. Adamant smiled. “I know. There’s a lot of people but it’ll be okay. Stay near me.”

Beside him, Leafeon shivered as it spoke to the woman. She seemed to weigh these words before freezing and snarling as Irida approached. “You’re alive?! Sinnoh above, you scared everyone.”

He smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. I got off the path a bit.”

“Off the path!?” Sabi squeaked as she ran up and hugged him. “You fell and we couldn’t find you because of the blizzard and-and–” Her eyes watered as she looked up at him. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. We had no way of knowing the storm would hit,” He assured her. “I’m just glad Braviary kept you safe.”

“Well, yeah. I’m his warden,” She huffed, wiping her face.

Irida sighed and nodded. “I’ll send out word to stop the searches…Adaman…” She nodded to the woman behind him.

“She saved me,” He said with a blush. Irida blinked at that. “I’m bringing her home so she can be among humans again, but maybe away from the pack is a good idea. They seemed to push her to leave and–”

“You spent the last three days in a Zoroark den?!” Irida asked in shock.

“Technically two. The first day we found a random cave. When the storm cleared a bit, we began to make our way back but it started to pick up again so she guided me there to ride out the remaining storm.” He smiled. “It was very warm.”

Leafeon smirked and chatted with the woman for a moment, making her cheeks flush as she blinked at the Pokemon before making small noises, almost sounding like a little Zorua.

Irida could only stare in wonder as Adaman smiled. “Adaman…I’m not saying this as the Pearl Clan leader but as your friend…You’re an idiot.”

He winced at the jab, rubbing his neck. “Don’t worry about it. She’s very nice. Plus she can talk to the Pokemon. It’d just be a matter of languages and getting used to people. All good things in time.”

She sighed, rubbing her face. “You…”

“She can stay with me. Plus, I want to see what she’ll do when she sees grass.”

Irida glanced at the woman as she sniffed the air, eyes locking onto the cooking pot on a fire. “She would be your responsibility, but you should be aware, she might be of the Pearl Clan. Many years ago, a couple went missing, the wife being pregnant, and rather recently too. They went missing in the ice fields. About 5 years later, scouts reported seeing a small human among Zorua playing, wearing Pokemon furs. Watching them was a strange colored Zoroark.”

She nodded to the woman and Adaman smiled, taking in the purple melded with white fur. “Then one mystery is solved,” He concluded. “Which is why, someday, she’ll be my wife.”

Irida let out a shriek of shock, startling the woman and Leafeon as Glaceon sighed in annoyance. “Marriage?! This wild woman!? How?! Why?!”

Adaman laughed and shook his head. “Her valor is something I admire greatly.” Irida blinked at that, recalling his connection to the lake guardian. “I hope someday in the future, I can ask that.”

The woman blinked at Leafeon, chattering out her question to it. “Is there something wrong with the male?”

“No. As I said, she’s a friend and he might want to be your mate.’ the woman’s skin bloomed at that as she looked at him with anticipation. “You’ll need to get used to other humans though. He doesn’t want that all at once.”

She nodded in agreement, straightening as she made a resolve within herself to be his mate, even though she’d decided it the moment she scented him.

[koreanbibliophilegirl]

Do you perhaps want to info dump about your DSMP superpower AU?

Totally not asking to procrastinate on literally writing my own. Nah. I don’t even know what procrastination is.

SKLFDJSJHDJFLH INFODUMPING ABOUT MY AU? ALWAYS. I'M SO GLAD YOU ASKED.

Okay so! Where should I start? *rubs hands like that one evil toddler cousin on Christmas*

The background setting!

So the fic already has a name, but I'm keeping it AND the MC secret as a lil surprise for when the fic is eventually published. All I will say about it is, it's not Tommy. *gasp*

Tommy does appear though, so I'll start there to avoid detection I think.

He works at the bakery(yes, it's owned by Niki Nihachu), which is right around the corner from the hero headquarters. So heroes are always stopping by for baked goods, especially since Niki's girlfriend, Puffy, has a son who's one of the top heroes, and he told all his friends about how good the bakery is.

And, of course, true to all the clichés, Tommy and his two roommates work as vigilantes. They don't work only at night, though. They work at lunchtime as well, since they all get an hour of lunch break & a lot of villains are out and about around that time. Counterintuitive, but then again, there are a lot of people in the streets to nab as hostages, and some villains actively seek out heroes to fight anyway. Like Redrum, known as the sharp-clawed, since he's apparently a catshifter (or general shapeshifter, who knows) who goes around stabbing heroes.

Tubbo works at the mechanics, his boss is retired hero/hero trainer Sam Dude(known as Warden during his time)! Sam retired among controversy though, because of issues surrounding the Hero HQ's former resident healer/ex-licensed hero, Lemon Balm. Tubbo couldn't care less though, Sam's nice and lets him take spare parts home for inventing(read: making vigilante gadgets).

Ranboo helps out at the local library, with Technoblade(last name unknown) as his boss! They're also the first out of the vigilante team Bench Trio to find out that Techno is the Blood God, one of the most popular vigilantes currently active, and one half of the elusive Emerald Duo.

Phil runs a bird shelter, and when he's out as the Angel of Death, he sometimes lets the crows from the shelter follow him around!

Kristin is a hero-turned-vigilante, formerly Miss Trixtin, currently the Goddess of Death. She's a bit busy with her day job atm though so she's taking a bit of a break from her vigilante job.

Wilbur is their son who left home after an argument about vigilantism not helping reform the corrupt hero system. He's a villain called Silver Tongue now. He keeps stealing important stuff from the Hero HQ with Fundy. He gets pretty close with Tommy after regularly visiting his (adoptive) son's workplace :D

Bench Trio's vigilante names are Aerie(Tommy- telekinesis + singing to plants to make them grow), Bee Bomb(Tubbo- honey colored explosive energy balls & metal manipulation), and Endgame(Ranboo- teleportation & compression, plus they can bite through anything)!

(Double powers are uncommon but not too rare, triple powers are EXTREMELY rare.)

Tommy's bakery coworkers are Fundy Soot(villain- helps his adoptive father, Wilbur, on his little outings. Ability to go unnoticed by everyone and anyone. It works on technology as well. He's also a general shapeshifter in theory, but he can't transform into animals bigger than a fox.), Badboy Halo(civillian- he can make red vines grow out of the ground! This saved Skeppy's butt once, cuz they used to live in the same neighborhood & went to the same schools, and one time Skeppy fell off the flagpole of the middle school. Bad's vines caught him midair.), and later on Ant Frost(🤫).

Niki herself is actually a former hero who resigned, she got too much hate about her power(copying others' powers for a short while). Puffy, who was her partner, retired a few years later, since she'd decided to adopt the orphan boy who had applied for the hero training program, and she'd need more money than she was making as a hero who had lost most of her popularity. She became a therapist, and fully supported her new son Foolish throughout his hero training!

Puffy and Niki never really talked about their relationship, but since Puffy's power is reading minds & emotions, and Niki can copy her power, they didn't have to. One day they just started telling people they were taken, and that was that.

Foolish is a popular hero who can call up storms & has the additional power of building anything in the blink of an eye! His partner(both work AND romantic) is Eret, who can control people's actions if they catch sight of her glowing white eyes. Their hero names are the Golden Shark and Monarch respectively.

Tina is also a hero, she graduated the hero training program with Foolish, but her powers(always landing on her feet when she falls, enhanced senses including night vision, and stealth) coincide too much with the top hero, Dream(can't get hurt from falling, slowing down time to give himself time to think, some enhanced agility), and she didn't get very popular. This will soon change though, Tina is the GOAT and everyone will know it.

Speaking of Tina, Hannah Rose the retired hero! She runs a flower shop! She retired after one of her wings was ripped during a fight, the physical therapy took a while and her popularity dropped like a stone. She realized how unfair the hero system was to unpopular heroes and decided to retire. Her wings still haven't recovered, her flight balance is too off for her to even consider flying more than a few feet off the ground, and more than a few seconds.

Las Nevadas! Quackity! He's one of the rare triple powered people! Golden duck wings, can manipulate card-shaped objects(a form of telekinesis), and has the ability to control odds(only if he's aware of all the variables though. It won't work very well if there are unknown factors).

Charlie! May be an elder god, may be the devil, who knows! He can turn into green slime, create green slime(with various properties), and additionally, knows everything about everyone. Nobody actually knows if this is a power or not, but it's certainly terrifying paired with his cheerful, optimistic personality.

Purpled! His skin is basically invincible, fireproof, acidproof, poisonproof, you name it. He also has perfect aim, which is very handy since he's an assassin. His sibling Punz is also an assassin, but they has flight trajectory manipulation and his eyes can zoom in on anything.

Skeppy. He's not part of the mafia, but he might as well be becuase he's literally always there. Nobody knows how he does it. But. He. Is. Always. There. He can summon diamonds though so nobody's complaining😊 lol

(But seriously, he's also fun to hang out with and plan pranks with. The mafia world is full of people who want something from you/have ulterior motives, and it's nice to hang out with someone who doesn't want anything from you other than keeping him company and talking with him.)

Sam, Foolish and Punz are friends! Sam suspects Punz is mafia but keeps quiet about it(he isn't about to make the same mistake as last time), Foolish is oblivious. Punz loves his homies, but is stressed bc Foolish has a v strict moral code and would not be happy if he finds out Punz is mafia.

Uhhh who have I not talked about, KARLNAP. Sapnap was a vigilante(he failed the training program interview) who quickly got recruited by the heroes, Karl was the same but a while later! Sapnap got patrols with Dream and GeorgeNotFound(all three go by their actual names as heroes, though Sapnap's vigilante name was Flame) and immediately gained a huge following(besides his fans from his vigilante days), but Karl(a.k.a. Timekeeper) wasn't that well-known even as a vigilante. He didn't give up though, and trained extremely hard every day. Then one day Sapnap saw him in the training area and got an instant crush. They talked, Sapnap began asking to be paired with Karl for duo patrols, they started dating, and now they're both famous & known as the ultimate power couple :3

Hmm, it feels kinda anticlimactic to end like this, so have a codename compilation!

Tommy- Aerie(place to rest suspended in the air. Tommy can float things in the air so I thought the name fit.)

Tubbo- Bee Bomb(Bee Bombs are wildflower seed balls that you leave out in the garden/in pots to grow wildflowers. I thought Tubbo would like the name, since his energy balls are supposed to smell sweet like wildflower honey.)

Ranboo- Endgame(They're so overpowered with their teleportation and compression that Tommy and Tubbo insisted his appearance alone would signal the beginning of the endgame. Nicknamed Ender.)

Technoblade- the Blood God(obviously.)

Philza- the Angel of Death(also obviously.)

Wilbur- Silver Tongue(for his silver tongue.)

Fundy- either Nonexistent or Ghost, haven't really decided yet

Kristin- (formerly) Miss Trixtin, (currently) the Goddess of Death

Foolish- the Golden Shark

Tina- Carrot Cat

Eret- Monarch

Niki- (formerly) Copycat

Puffy- (formerly) Captain Puffy

Karl- Timekeeper

(Mafia Codename explanation here)

Quackity- Rey Club, King of Clubs

Purpled- Tyrian Spade

Punz- Lapis Lazuli Spade, Ace of Spades

Hannah- (formerly) Faerie, (currently) Bitterbriar Diamond

Skeppy- Adamant Heart(since he's always there anyway, they just gave him a codename.)

Charlie- Dresden Diamond, Jack of Diamonds

Ponk- Lemon Balm/Sorrento Heart(they still go by Lemon Balm as a vigilante)

Ant- Redrum

Eryn- Demon

Aimsey- Daisy(star and Eryn are villains who want to reform society as a whole by blowing up buildings. Only when they're empty tho cuz Aimsey doesn't want to kill ppl)

Velvet: Red Flag

Welp, that's all for now! If there's anything else you'd like to know, please feel free to ask further! I really enjoyed answering this, thank you so much for the ask! 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

-Lilly xx

(P. S. Almost forgot; HBomb is the owner & sole employee of a cat café with a maid event on Saturdays.)

[spandexinspace]

Mother Says

Querl visits his mother. This benefits no one. ___________________________________________

“Hello, mother.” The woman on the other side of the blue-tinted force field looks up. She has not changed much since the last time Querl saw her, tall and wiry with long blonde hair cascading around a face he can’t help but pick out every similarity in. She’s holding a prison-issued holopad, the kind the warden swears can’t be connected to any off-world network or used for anything illegal or improper, yet in her thin, sallow hands it looks as much a weapon as any blade or blaster, capable of wrecking as much havoc as she ever could with her freedom intact. He makes a mental note to question the warden about it later, to ask why someone like her, like them, is allowed near a device like that.

“Querl,” she says, her mouth twisting into a toothy replica of a smile. Her eyes remain fixed on him, still and cold, enough to send a chill up his spine. “I’m so glad you could come.”

“What do you want?” Querl crosses his arms, shifting from one foot to the other. He’d felt utterly confident when he’d first received her correspondence and had to justify the visit to his deeply sceptical friends, but as he stands there in front of her — awash in the reality of her presence — he doesn’t feel so confident anymore. What had seemed like a reasonable request at the time now feels like just another stupid, emotional mistake. He’s made a lot of those recently.

One of his thought tracks recalls those dreams he used to have as a child, the ones where she didn’t leave. Or the ones where she’d show up out of the blue to save him. In those dreams she was kind and caring, she’d listen and encourage him and smile ever so sweetly even though he could never quite focus on her face. He’d hated waking up from those dreams then, because waking up meant facing the reality of her absence. This feels like waking up.

“Is that any way to talk to your mother?” she asks, snapping him back to reality. “Now, I was reading the news the other day and came across this fascinating article about you and one of your little hero friends,” she continues, still smiling, but it’s the smile of someone who only knows how to go through the motions. Speaking in a noticeably higher voice than during their last meeting she lets it rise and fall like every word and sentence has been rehearsed a thousand times over. It itches at the back of his mind like a scabbing wound. He wonders why she cares.

“I fail to see how that requires my presence here.” As much as it had surprised him to find out that she was allowed to send messages — that she’d finally decided to do so now, after so long — he had figured she must have something important to say if she went through the trouble of doing so.

“Should your own mommy have to deign herself to reading meritless magazines to know what you are, what do the Terrans you love so much call it… up to?” Despite her well-practised enunciation the words roll off her tongue awkwardly, like someone has made last minute edits to her carefully practised script. He wants to tell himself that that’s good, that maybe she’s trying to improve and change, but it makes his skin crawl.

“Again, what do you want? You said it was urgent, and your sudden interest in my life could hardly be classified as such.”

She continues as if he’d said nothing at all.

"This friend of yours is human, is he not? How long do they live — one, two hundred years?” she says. ”Don't you think you’re being awfully selfish, stealing his entire life away while you give him only a fragment of yours? Remaining young and reckless as he grows weak and frail by your side, unable to live a normal human life because of you?" She rearranges her face into a mockery of concern. "Is that what he deserves?"

Querl grits his teeth, his hands curling into fists at his sides. Anger flares in his chest, hot and acidic. What an idiot he has been. Again. Of course she doesn’t have an actual reason to see him. This is just another game to her, a new angle to sow her misery. All she’s ever wanted from him has been for her benefit, there’s no reason for that to have changed now. The only logical decision would be to walk away and leave her alone with her poisonous words, to cut her out of his life once and for all and never come running at her call again.

He steps forward.

"As if you care."

She stands. Even now she towers above him, forcing him to tilt his head back to meet her gaze, no less imposing behind a force field and clad in prison greys. Her eyes narrow until the concern has been replaced by a sneer, but even that seems like a strange emotion to her, like something she’s heard about and only vaguely knows how to articulate.

"You care. You're as addled by your emotions as all the other mindless beings out there," she says. “And you know that my assessment is correct. You will outlive your friends and then there’ll be no one left to care for you and your fragile mind. And they will all suffer for it, as you walk alongside them and show them what the universe has denied them.”

His jaw aches, his body so tense it feels like it could snap. He imagines throwing himself against the forcefield, futilely pounding his fists into it until she stops talking. Pushing down the bile and urge to yell he forces his voice to remain steady, speaking in short and clipped words.

"Why did you ask me to come here?" he says.

"Sweetheart, mommy only wanted to make sure you're not getting in over your head." Once again her voice is saccharine, the very model of a doting mother’s voice.

He slams his fist against the force field. It makes contact with a dull thud and a jolt of pain that shoots out of his hand and into his arm. She doesn’t even flinch.

"Grife! Cut it out! We both know this is just another one of your acts. You’ve never given a nass about me unless it was for your own benefit.”

"You wound me,” she says, while actually sprocking pouting down at him like an insolent toddler. “Is it so impossible that I've changed, been reformed by the exquisite medical staff on this planetoid? Do you truly believe me incapable of that?"

“Yes! You've had two decades to learn to care and you told me you did everything in your power to achieve that before trying to kill me, why the nass would this be it? What could a pack of prison psychiatrists possibly have to say that you haven’t heard before?”

“Things and people change, Querl, you of all people should know that. You haven’t always been like this, have you?” For a second he hesitates, which is all his mind needs to catch up with him. The sudden burst of anger drains out of him like air through a compromised hull and he inches back from the force field, crossing his arms again once he comes to a stop. Had he not struggled for years himself, dealing with his feelings and trauma and the anomaly and implants and all that came with it? He’d become better with time, why couldn’t she?

“I know I have not been the best mommy to you, but I can assure you that being coupled with a human will only lead to suffering. I have had short-lived companions before, most of them did not see any longtime benefits from our relationship.” As she speaks her shoulders start to slump and she turns away from him, letting her hair obscure her face. Despite her stature she looks small. Small and lonely.

He hesitates before speaking. “I thought you said you couldn’t feel love.”

“I can’t, but they did. And it did them no favours.” She sighs heavily. “But I suppose all children need to make their own mistakes, even if they’re foolish ones.”

Querl inches backwards. This new side of her unnerves him, but as much as he rakes his mind for an explanation — desperately tries to look to her voice or demeanour for any sign of one — he comes up empty-handed. Where she’d been forward and mocking and saccharine before she’s now demure and small, a lonely woman in a restrictive prison cell. He doesn’t know if that’s the real her. If there’s any version of her that is truly real.

“I need to leave,” he mumbles.

“Thank you for visiting, sweetheart, I do get so lonely down here.” She blinks, her eyes still devoid of something. Querl retreats out the door, sighing in relief as the lock engages behind him.

------------------------------

Her words cling to him as he leaves, echoing through most of his thought tracks as he desperately tries to make sense of them. Any thought of speaking to the warden has been left behind for another day. He needs to leave. Needs to get home.

Even as he settles into a seat in the Takron Galtos shuttle, huddled in a too large coat with the hood pulled up to cover most of his face, lest he be recognised, he can’t get them out of his head. It’s not like he didn’t know. He’d always known, it just hadn’t mattered at first and then things had progressed so quickly and it had never come up. And it had been so easy not to think about it, to push any thought of age and life away, to just look at the next experiment or the next life or death situation or the next sweet moment of kisses stolen away between missions and work. Of Lyle’s warm hands against his face and of feeling like he finally belonged somewhere, too drunk on life to realise that it couldn’t last forever.

He used to think he’d die long before his ageing became an issue. His caretakers would tell him that people hated his family for what they’d done, that the galaxy was full of people who longed for the blood of a dead Brainiac on their hands, if only for a small piece of vengeance. He’d long ago accepted that as his end, that someone would eventually catch up to him. Even as he ventured out into the world and discovered its indifference he still held on to that belief. In recent years — after being lost and losing so much — he’d started to believe that he would in all likelihood die during a mission. The idea that he might die of old age had seemed preposterous.

Querl sighs and stares out the darkened window at the endless expanse of stars outside the shuttle. Perhaps she, despite her behaviour and everything she’s done, is right. Perhaps it is selfish to expect a human to live with someone so different, who can offer so little in return for a lifetime of commitment. His own experience with Coluan ageing is theoretical at best; he doesn’t know how his mental development will compare to a human, but he won’t grow old alongside them, that much is clear. Perhaps they will get another ten years together, maybe twenty. But eventually they’ll grow old, and he simply won’t. At least not for many centuries. Those who are simply his friends can presumably handle it well enough, distance themselves as needed and not be too affected by his perceived immaturity. But it would be irresponsible to put that burden on his partner. He knows it would. Querl knows he shouldn’t make his life difficult and what is making him live according to the standards of an entirely alien species, if not difficult?

The trip home feels endless, ships crawling across the stars as they slowly bring him closer to Earth. To home. He switches from the Takron Galtos shuttle to an uncomfortably crowded express ship to the inner Centaurus Arm, then to a local shuttle to Earth. It’s beyond late when he finally arrives on Legion World, and his body aches with exhaustion. But all through the journey his conversation with his mother reverberates through his mind, and he makes a decision.

------------------------------

Querl flings his coat onto the lone armchair in the living area of his quarters. It doesn’t add noticeably to the already messy state of the room, every flat surface littered with papers and holopads and mechanical parts and more or less abandoned projects he neither can nor wants to think about at that moment. He’ll deal with it later. Tomorrow. He has to do this while he’s still determined, before he can convince himself to keep living selfishly.

The door to the sleeping quarters slides open with a low hiss, revealing a considerably cleaner and sparsely lit room. Lyle is sitting cross-legged on his bed, dressed in a loose black bathroom Querl doesn’t remember owning with his still wet hair brushed back from his forehead. An abandoned holopad lies next to him on the bed, but he’s looking at Querl, smiling sweetly as his dark eyes glitter fondly. There’s a warm beauty to him that it took Querl far too long to notice, but it feels like it’s all he’s seen these last few months. The idea of losing it again makes him want to abandon every thought of doing what’s right, to instead lie down next to him on the bed and dive right back into being selfish and self-fulfilled. But Lyle deserves better.

“You’re back. How did it go?” Despite Lyle’s smile there’s a wrinkle of worry between his eyebrows and a tightness in his eyes. Querl swallows through a suddenly too dry throat, trying to keep his own face and voice from betraying him.

“She didn’t want anything of importance. I should have expected as much.” Lyle eyes him warily and Querl can only hope his suspicion stems from his, and Ayla and Gates’, general disapproval of the trip.

“Figures,” he eventually says, pushing his holopad fully out of the way and stretching out his arms over his head. “And could have told you as much. But I’m glad it wasn’t anything serious, at least.” Lyle pushes himself off the bed and closes the gap between them in one swift movement, standing so close that Querl imagines he can feel the heat radiating off of him. He cups Querl’s cheek with one hand, gently rubbing a calloused thumb over his cheekbone. It’s warm and intoxicating and Querl tilts his head, lets himself indulge in the touch just one last time before grabbing Lyle’s hand and pulling it away. He takes a step back, remembering the door only as his back hits it.

Lyle blinks.

“Querl?” he asks, the worry on his face deepening. Querl steels himself and tries to concentrate on the thoughts that have been swirling in his mind since his conversation with his mother. He pushes away any thought of Lyle’s warmth, and of the guilt his expression makes him feel.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea for us to keep doing this,” he says, voice strained.

“I- what? What this?” Lyle says.

“This, well, us.” Querl points between them, his hand numb. “It might be better for both of us if we just… if we just don’t.”

“How is that better?” Lyle steps back, face hardening. A treacherous part of Querl whispers that there’s still time to take it back, that he can lie his way out of this. He knows he shouldn’t.

“I don’t think our species’ ageing processes are compatible. Your lifespan will only last about an eighth to a fourth of mine and-”

“So, you want to break up with me, right now, because I’ll die in a hundred years or so and that’ll make you sad?” Lyle sounds, for lack of a better description, unimpressed. There’s not much worry left in his expression now.

“It’s not that,” Querl says, defensively holding up his hands in front of himself. “Being with me won’t be like being with another human. I’m not going to age alongside you and go through regular human life events with you.”

“Merde. Yeah, thanks, I know.” Lyle sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. “You can be so dense, do you know that?”

“I’m no-”

"Yes, yes you are. Do you think dating for half a year means we have to spend our entire lives together now?” Lyle doesn’t wait for him to answer. “And I sprocking know. It’s not some big dark secret you’ve been keeping from me, it’s literally Xenobiology 101.”

“Ah.”

“Ah indeed.” Lyle rolls his eyes. “Where did you get this nass from?”

What just minutes before had seemed like logical reasoning lies irreparably shattered in Querl’s mind, a mess of thoughts and ideas that for some reason seemed so orderly before. But right here, right now, in the soft light of his room and with an angry Lyle standing right in front of him, they only seem utterly thoughtless.

“Querl?” Lyle says, slightly louder and with a deep note of irritation.

“My mother…” Querl admits, glancing down and away from Lyle, unable to keep looking at him as the reality of the situation catches up to him. The tips of his ears burn and he swallows dryly as a tense silence stretches out between them.

“Cool,” Lyle eventually says, voice strung tight. “And why have you been taking relationship advice from your mother who, need I remind you, tried to murder you for fun?”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“It sure sounded like that!”

“Well, it wasn’t. Her actions don’t discredit everything she says, particularly not if she’s simply stating an objective fact.”

Lyle sighs.

“Look at me,” he says, voice sharp. Even though his stomach churns with anticipation of what he’ll face, Querl obliges. “Thanks,“ Lyle continues. ”You’ve got to stop acting like you know better than everyone else. People make their own decisions for their own reasons, you can’t make them for them and act like that’s for the greater good. And you especially can’t act like that because your unstable mum got into your head about something.”

“The thought had occurred to me before she mentioned it.”

“But you didn’t act on it before she said something. And, you know, you could just have brought it up like a normal person. It wouldn’t have been so hard to ask if I’d thought about it too, but instead you decided to be some kind of noble hero and try to break up with me for my own good.” If there’s one thing Querl doesn’t know it’s people. People are annoying and fraught with unstable emotions that threaten to spill over at any moment, there are few if any rules that govern their behaviour. Or at least so it seems, save for moments like this, when Lyle explains them with such ease that they might as well be second degree equations. It’s one of his many gifts, and perhaps the one that truly sets them apart. Querl resents it, at times. Times like these.

“Well?” Another flare of irritation.

“I suppose you’re correct…” Querl bites his lip. He didn’t do anything wrong. Except he did. But saying those two words still feels like admitting undeserved defeat. “I’m sorry.” He hates apologising. He’s not supposed to be wrong.

“Thanks, love the sincerity. Are you even taking this seriously?” He’s seen Lyle angry and irritated before, he’s even yelled at him at times. But this feels different, like there’s something unspoken hanging in the air between them, an electric current that makes his skin prickle.

“I am.”

“Uhu, and you still want to break up with me?” Lyle says, voice so calm and steady despite the edge in his words, sharp like a razor ready to cut.

“I didn’t want to break up with you in the first place.” Did he? No, he didn’t, he just had to, he only wanted what was best for them both. For Lyle.

“Could have fooled me. Actually, you know what, we’re done here. Be alone, if that’s what you want.” Just as quickly as he’d approached Querl he turns around, grabs his holopad and pushes back past him out of the room. For a moment their eyes meet and linger, Lyle’s still narrowed and glinting with suppressed anger. Querl isn’t sure what his own face says in return. Then the door slides shut behind him, and Querl is left alone.

[oboetemasuka]

Order of Attack, part 16

I was going to have a bunch of conversations in a single part, but this first conversation is as long as some of the older, shorter chapters.

So here.

Fuuta and Amane. Just in time before Fuuta's birthday ends in my part of the world.

Does this mean I'm going to have to write yet another conclusion chapter? A "proper" one? We'll see.

(Cw cults, suicide)

“Fuuta-san, how are you feeling?”

Waking up to a hovering green blob was one of the constants of this prison.

“Like crap. But… better.” Fuuta took Amane’s outstretched hands and pulled himself to a seated position. After lying down for who-knows-how-long, sitting up felt so weird these first few times.

“Better… I am glad.” Amane settled into the chair next to him. “Do you really mean it?”

“Of course… Might take a while to…” To recover. “But it’s something. Why…” Why do you ask?

“The last time you said you were fine…” She sounded choked. “Why did you…”

“...Didn’t want anyone to worry.”

“D-did you not think… we would be more worried if… if…” Amane stopped trying to hold back tears. 

Fuuta held out his right arm, and Amane accepted the wordless invitation for a hug.

“Promise me you won’t die…” she whispered.

“I’ll try. At least… I won’t do… that again.”

“You had better not.” Amane patted Fuuta’s shoulder before pulling away and sitting back in her chair.

“Y’know… I've been told… I could recover fully if I make it out of here and get to a-” Get to a hospital.

Amane stared at the floor silently.

“Oh. Sorry. Shouldn't have-”

“It is fine. Given that we are stuck here, getting to a hospital would be a trial all on its own.”

Is she bending her beliefs?

“It sucks that your eye’s gone, though.”

Amane shrugged. “It was just part of God's plan.”

“After everything, you still hold onto that?” It wasn’t surprising. This “everything”, this life-changing event… even this would not completely undo a lifetime of faith.

“This pain brought us closer together, did it not?”

Fuuta grunted in agreement. “S’pose so… But you’re so young… to have a permanent…”

“Even if this is forever, so are the bonds we forged. I would not have it any other way.”

“So cheesy…”

But it got a chuckle out of both of them, even though they needed a moment to catch their breaths after.

“Gotta hand it to you…” Fuuta said after a bit. “Living without regrets…”

“There is not enough time in the world for regrets,” Amane responded plainly. “I wish things could have turned out differently, but I would not change my own actions if I went back.” 

“Can’t say the same… I’ll never make the same mistake again.” Fuuta sighed. “But… going forward, would you do it again?”

Amane averted her eye. “I hope I would not have to.” She paused for a moment. “At least the voices understand now. A little bit.”

“Glad they stopped the baseless accusations.”

“Still, I would rather they not pity me. But it is fine. It is easier to ignore.”

Fuuta shrugged. “Guess it could be worse.”

“Voices aside, do you think a lot about the next trial?” 

“Haven't really…. Thought it was already over for me.”

“Of course it is not over. There is always hope for change.” Her tone fell. “Though I worry that the warden's sympathy is so arbitrary.”

“I'll make sure they don't regret their choice. Second chances… Hope they believe in that…” 

“I am sure they do. That is why we have three trials, no?”

“But third chances… then…”

Amane seemed to be studying Fuuta’s expression. “You are worried about Sakurai Haruka.”

Fuuta nodded. “Him and Muu.”

“You made it through this trial. They can too. We can help them.”

“So comforting.” He rolled his eyes.

“I mean it,” Amane said sincerely. “If anyone can get through to them, it is you.”

Fuuta dropped the sarcastic tone. “You really think so?”

“I do. We can visit them right now if you want.” Amane walked over to a wall where a folded wheelchair was leaning, waiting to be used. “I’ll get… um, I’ll get Kirisaki Shidou to help.”

[hustlemeanokay]

Okay. Two playthroughs done.

One with a Lords of Fortune, Elven mage, Female Rook who romanced Davrin. And one with a Grey Warden, Dwarf warrior, male rook who romanced Lace. Two wildly different personalities, two wildly different endings. And for the sake of spoilers, I'll put the rest below the cut.

So - first, my Lord Zea Laidir playthrough. She was kind - almost always picking the diplomatic option. The nice option or the sad eye option. Never really got mad, just hurt. She was a tender soul but also joyful. She liked the Lords because they were fun and jovial - not really for greed and what not. She liked the celebrating oneself aspect of bragging, if that makes sense. Anyway - since it was my 1st playthrough, I went with my core Inquisitor. Yes, an elf who romanced Solas. For the sake of the game, though, she stayed all piny after him. But the story I have written for her - she dropped him like a bad habit because reasons. But anyway! I was able to swing the save Solas ending and the Inquisitor and him strolled off into the fade together and aw, Solas was redeemed. But - you have to follow some specific steps for that, from what I understand. It's easy if you do though. Zea was an optimist, a sweetheart for lack of a better term. It hurt her that Solas was the way he was, she always felt bad for him. And she was glad to see him and the Inquisitor together in the end.

But my second playthrough - Grier Thorne. He's a grey warden and a warrior, a smart-ass and a hard-ass. A direct dude who's only got a soft spot for Lace. While Zea was saddened by Solas' repeat betrayals - Grier was pissed off. For a variety of reasons. Because he was kinda like 'yeah, okay - boo hoo, we've all had shit happen and yeah, it sucks but you had so many fucking chances to turn it around and you just keep shitting on everyone so how about you get fucked instead?' when it came to Solas. Especially at the end. He fought Solas and banished him to the fade. And man, the endings were night and day different. I know, I've read all the psychological breakdowns of about how Solas is a mirror and he'll mirror your actions etc but damn, that ending was intense. But I had to play it true to Grier, if that makes sense. Davrin was his bff, and he was still very raw over losing him and then being kicked into fade-jail. So, he came out ten kinds of pissed at Solas. To err is human, to forgive is divine - and Grier is no god - that's his way of thinking. Is it perfect? No. But that's him. The only one that can do absolutely no wrong in his eyes is Lace and yeah so maybe his team too but he'll never admit that one. Oh! And it was nice to see Dorian & the Inquisitor together again. :) It was a nice little touch to hear Dorian ask if his amatus was "okay" and that "if you aren't, it's okay, you know". (or something along those lines). They're still adorable and it's all warm fuzzies inside to know that the devs gave a nod to the two of them still being together after all this time.

Now that I've played the two polar opposite endings - I'm going to see where the other characters I have in the wings lead me. My next play through is a qunari Shadow Dragon. I'm thinking he might just trick Solas though - kind of a here's a taste of your own medicine. Because he's from Tevinter... and he's a shadow dragon... and he'd find it ironically hilarious. But that's Nels for ya. (⌐■_■)