#then hopefully I make a good impression so I can apply for something else at the same company

[pernesophe]

I have a phone interview today for a position that would quite literally change my current living and healthcare situation dramatically, so if you have any spare good vibes please send them my way because I’m nervous 😓

[meanbossart]

I LOVE DU drow and I love your art style! I also really like how you draw Astarion's hair, it looks flowy but still with his trademark curls.

Can you give any advice on drawing Astarion's hair? I find it a nightmare to draw. Whenever I free hand it, it just doesn't have the amount of curliness I want, and when I try to use a reference it ends up looking rather stiff.

Take care and thanks for the art 😊

THANK YOU though to be honest I'm shocked to find this ask in my inbox because every time I draw Astarion a war is waged between me and his hairdo. But sure, lets give this a shot!

First of all I feel like its a good idea not to be too attached to his in-game model hair when drawing unless your style is very realistic. The only reason why that dry-noodle helmet looks so regal and bouncy is because of the high-detailed graphics. Like you mentioned yourself and many of us have experienced, if you try and stick to it too closely in most art-styles it just ends up looking terribly stiff.

Instead, I suggest just keeping growth-direction and shape in mind and applying as much movement as you want to it when you draw it. Here's some things to remember that might help you with that:

-I employ the liquify tool a lot when sketching his hair because I never get it big enough on the first try, lol. This can also aid you with "distorting" more curliness into your lines if you aren't used to doing that right off the bat, just try not to become too reliant on it!

-I usually leave the areas around the ears and back alone but imply a lot of movement with the top and front of the hair, taking as many liberties as I want even if it's not entirely faithful to the model. I feel like the impression of curliness comes entirely from the silhouette of the hair and little fly-ways that I add, and everything else I just try to do without overthinking it too much for a more natural look.

In truth, I feel like a lot of times we get stuck on things like parting-placement, right amount of curl, which brush we're using yada-yada when in reality we are neglecting what actually makes a character's hair recognizable: Hairline, growth pattern, and shape. If you get these three things right I feel like everything else is entirely just stylistic choice. It's worth pulling away for a moment and checking on these things if you feel like you're continually unhappy with your outcome!

-Astarion has a hairline capable making most men over 30 cry. It's very low on the forehead and tight on the temples with the slightest hint of a widow's peak. As someone who drew a lot of big-foreheaded characters with receding hairlines prior, this was a STRUGGLE for me to get used to and a big reason why I felt like I couldn't get his hair to look "right" for the longest time.

-His hair swoops to the right side of his face in a fanning kind of shape and is the longest at the front and top. You can imply a strong part if you want, you can split it into sections, you can have it falling over his forehead or not at all - as long as it's going in the right direction you will probably be fine.

-A mistake I would catch myself making often was getting the shape totally wrong - making it too slick at the top and putting all the volume in the back when that's pretty much the exact opposite of what his hair does. IT'S ALL AT THE FRONT AND TOP, REPEAT IT TO YOURSELF LIKE IT'S A MANTRA: IT'S ALL AT THE FRONT AND TOP.

And lastly, if you absolutely hate how his hair looks or hate to draw it, you can forego all of this and just do whatever you want. These tips are only worth something if you like how I draw his hair specifically.

Hopefully this was helpful at all!

[sniigura-archive]

Thinking about a 3-way with Adam and Lucifer where Lucifer brags about all the Amazing Sex Tricks(tm) he knows and how he'll be so good you'll rethink your relationship with Adam...but in the end Lucifer can't make you cum no matter what he does, and then Adam make you cum super easily. Lucifer gets haunted by that for the rest of his life. XD

WAITTTTTT…..this opened up my third eye i had to write this. ur onto smth anon…….

cw/tw/tags: threesome, mention of alcohol but everyone can consent, voyerourism, fingering, clit rubbing, oral (m and f receiving), p in v sex

You didn’t think Adam would ever allow this, or be into it. It’s probably more of an ego thing, than anything else. For the both of them.

Maybe it’s the few drinks Adam had, that made him take more risks. But fact is Adam is the opposite of a light weight and it takes more than 2 shitty beers and half of a cocktail you didn’t like for him to be even tipsy.

With your legs spread open, your back leaning against Adam’s chest and Lucifer between your legs, you could only pray that you wouldn’t regret this. If Adam wouldn’t have agreed, you would have probably just flipped Lucifer off.

Fuck, even with Adam agreeing it felt more like a test. Which is why you first said no, and Adam assured you it would be okay. Man, you’re a sucker.

Well, now you’re here, with Lucifer between your legs, after all of his bragging of how he’s better than Adam. Hopefully he lives up to his words? Or, well hopefully he’s at least decent so this whole fiasco is worth it. Adam kissed the side of your head, massaging your breast and tugging at your nipples. His already hard dick was pressing against your lower back. Hopefully he will fuck you good tonight.

You nearly forgot Lucifer was even there, but of course he had to put the attention back to him.

Lucifer lifted the hood from your clit and put his dry finger on it, applying far too much pressure and starting immediately a fast pace of rubbing. It was overstimulating, in a bad way. It was near painful, it felt like he was trying to rub your clit sore. Yikes. At least he wasn’t rubbing your left lip and asking you how good it feels? Nevermind, you prefer the lip rubbing because you were going to die if something happens to your clit.

Your hips jolted away from Lucifer, and you pressed your lips in a tight line, trying to keep yourself from swearing at Lucifer. In a bad way. Looking nervously to Adam up, even he looked not quite impressed. Well, it’s because he knows your body, nearly as well as his own body. His brows were furrowed and his fingers twitched around your tits, ready to throw Lucifer out.

“Ouch! Dude, you want to give my clit a fucking friction burn? And now you scratch it with your long ass nails? Jesus….” You sternly told Lucifer, putting your foot on his shoulder and pushing him away.

You pinched your nose bridge, while Lucifer looked up at you with big, surprised eyes. He’s the personification of a kicked puppy right now. You felt Adam shift behind you, laughing at your words.

“Yeah, right sorry, let me, uh, let me do something…else?” It was more of a question than anything, where did his confidence go?

Lucifer whipped his hand on the sheets, a nervous gesture. Your patience was running thin. Shit, Adam spoils you too much, you can’t take bad sex anymore. He better never leave, or let you at least make a dildo of his dick. That’d be great. Lucifer grasped your thighs into his hand and lowered his face towards your pussy. He licked a strip up your weeping cunt, and wrapped his lips around your clit.

Your eye lids fluttered shut, good to know he can do one thing right at least. Sadly, he was only unusually talented for a moment, before he ruined it again. How he did it this time? Having weirdly sharp and big canines isn’t good for eating pussy. Especially when biting down hard at your clit, not sexy at all. His tongue game was good, but that just ruined your whole mood.

Grasping his blond hair strands in your hand you forcefully tugged him off of you, while wincing in pain. You’ve had enough. No more threesomes.

“Fucking hell, I thought you were going to make my bitch reconsider being with me? I think you’re making her run straight towards my dick.” Adam rubbed his stubbly chin with a grin. This is going way better than he thought it would, “Wanna see how hot she looks when she cums?”

Adam turned you around, so now you were facing him. What a handsome face he has. He crashed his lips into yours, licking the inside of your mouth. His hands were rummaging all across your body, seemingly rubbing away the touch of another. His thick fingers found your semi wet pussy, he licked his thumb before he started massaging gentle circles on your most sensitive body part.

With his other hand he started to slowly enter a thick finger into your throbbing pussy. You were already panting, Adam knew you too well maybe. If he tried hard enough, and you were in the mood, he could probably make you cum in 60 seconds and under. It’s not something you would ever share with Adam though, his ego was too big already.

“Lay down ‘n relax, baby.” Adams voice was gentle, but still commanding. It’s hard to refuse him.

Laying back down, you looked up at Lucifer, who was kneeling down besides your head. His eyes were fully focused on your face. Sometimes they flicked towards Adam, who was working on opening you up.

Once Adam was a sure you were stretched out enough, he flipped you over so you were now in a puppy pose. He moved one of your hands towards your clit, “Touch ya yourself for me, babe. So I can blow your fucking back out in peace. Maybe you can show the loser how much better you’re with your tongue than him.” He chuckled at his own words, while lining up his dick with your entrance.

At the mention of you sucking off Lucifer, he excitedly scrambled to get infront of your face. His dick was pale and his tip near apple red. Jesus, he was slightly bigger than Adam. But you already thought Adam was too big, so this wasn’t something that turned you terribly on. You’re thinking of ordering cock rings for Adam, to stop him from bruising your cervix constantly. You wrapped your fingers around Lucifers huge cock. He hissed at the feeling. So he’s sensitive? That’s good, you can make him cum fast thanks to that.

Adam bullied his dick into your tight hole, causing you to whine from the pressure, your fingers found your clit and you rubbed yourself in your usual motions. You won’t last long with Adam having his twitching, leaking dick buried inside you. Adam started up a gentle rhythm, easing more and more of himself into you. Man, you’re living the dream of every size queen right now. Licking up a strip from his balls towards his tip, Lucifer straight up moaned while his hands shoot towards your head, burying his fingers in your hair.

You took his tip into your mouth, but you couldn’t help but carelessly bit down on the most sensitive part of his dick. Revenge.

Lucifers hips buckled up, while he whined with tears in his eyes, “Ah, that hurts! Ssssssooorry, haaaa, you’re very…….very….pretty. Makes me ….nervous.”

Adam pressed a hand down in between your shoulder blades, causing you to take more of Lucifers length down your throat. You gagged, before regaining your cool. Adam’s piercing rubbed against your gspot, while your fingers carelessly rubbed against your clit. That’s all it took for you to cum, stomach tensing, cunt clenching, while your toes were curled up. Your eyes rolled briefly to the back of your head, while you moaned helplessly around Lucifers cock.

Lucifer moaned, while cumming into your mouth. His cum tasted like acid, so you basically spit his cum and dick out of your mouth. Yikes. Lucifers whole chest and face were completely covered in a red blush, he was breathing heavily.

After a few more ponds into your pussy Adam came inside you. He slapped your ass, before he tugged you up by your shoulders, while still being inside you. Seeing the cum dribble down your chin, and seeing the mess between Lucifers legs, Adam couldn’t help but laugh.

„She always swallows my cum. A real fucking shame.“ Adam kissed your clean cheek, while looking at Lucifers form.

„Wanna go another round, slut?“ Adam asked you, in a provocative manner.

You nodded at him, „Yeah….But. Alone.“ You side eyed Lucifer.

„You heard the woman. Get the fuck out of here.“ Adam growled at Lucifer, who scrambled to get somewhat dressed while leaving the bedroom. He cast one last, yearning look back before he was gone.

During that time Adam had already put you into a mating press, ready to make it up to you by making you see heaven.

[bridgetoesoteria]

🥰Timeless Love Reading 💟💗

Heyy back with anotha one! ➡Poll correlates with the piles⬅

Hope it resonates :)

Collective: For everyone I am getting the message that its time to break out of limiting beliefs. It may be time to face some fears or other things you have been avoiding.

I'm using a deck that I very rarely reach for these days. It was my first deck and I loved it! But it reminds me of someone who ended up really hurting me so I avoid it. But today I felt drawn to it for this reading and realized I didn't want to let them taint my life any longer.

I feel that everyone is being called to do that in someway. Take back your power in love and start controlling the narrative more.

Using Sun and Moon Tarot + The Afro Goddess Clear Vision Duo

Pile 1: Summer

4 Card Spread: The Lovers, 3 of Cups, Queen of Wands, and Princess of Pentacles. Bottom of the deck is Ace of Swords.

I'm getting a pretty bright and cheery energy. So either this is where you are or where you are headed. Yay! Love to see it 🥳 I'm bumping some Amy Winehouse right now. It always makes me feel so sultry. That's kinda the same energy I am getting from your reading.

I think you will be going out and having a great time. You will be re-discovering your sexuality. You will truly be "feeling yourself" (no pun intended!). Some of you could be getting frisky and I see the possibility of children, so take precautions if you are not ready for kids. But for others, if that is what you are hoping for this is a good sign. Some of you may be looking to expand your families.

For others, I think you will have a suitor that comes forward and makes you forget about the past. It looks healthy and honest. (This doesn't mean trust blindly. Always maintain your boundaries and trust your intuition!). Its possible they could make a proposal like asking you on a date, asking to make it official, or something else. Seems like there is romance and mutual love ahead ♥

TL;DR: You will definitely be feeling yourself, if you aren't already. Rightfully, so! What's wrong with confidence. You might be feeling a little hot in the pants *wink wink* so take precautions if you are not looking to get pregnant. You might meet someone that is a good match. Still make sure to trust your intuition and maintain proper boundaries. These are important ingredients for any healthy relationship.

Oracle: Sensei + Passion

Hopefully, you can see the images. Look over the messages and take what resonates with you. You will know its for you by the way it makes you feel.

Yeah... I know what I'm talking about when I said I saw some spicy energy in your reading. Luckies! I am also getting a bit of a marriage vibe.

Pile 2: Autumn/Fall

4 Card Spread: King of Cups, 6 of Wands, Ace of Cups, and 2 of Pentacles. Bottom of the deck is The Emperor.

Jamming to Miss Independent by Kelly Clarkson. Go listen! It may have messages or a vibe you resonate with! Omg and now Brokenhearted by Karmin is playing. I remember when I thought this was Cher Lloyd lol... anywayy..

I am getting such good energy for this pile! I love it. You could be romantics at heart. I am getting a free spirited energy. You don't let heartbreak keep you down and jaded. You always find a way to come back out on top and open your heart again. That is seriously impressive! Its not easy or common to be that resilient! (In case you're wondering, my phone is now playing Drama Queen (That Girl) by Lindsay Lohan). Go you! 😊🙌 If you aren't here right now, this is a sign that you can get there! Manifest it!

I do see someone coming in. They give me kind of goofy energy but well-meaning. They might have more serious intentions than you think or they could have a serious side. I do feel like the ball will be in your court in some way. So just know everything can go the way you want it to. I think this can apply to love overall. You're in a very attractive energy.

If you are going through a heartbreak, you will get over it. I don't mean that in a dismissive way. It just feels like you will start to snap out of it almost. The pain may linger but you will find ways and people to distract yourself.

Some of you are wondering if you should reconcile with a certain person. I see them thinking the same thing. You both feel the same way but probably don't show it. This is probably more of a communication problem and difference in love languages. If you do decide to get back together, try to get to know each other in a more light hearted way. Focus on the moment for now, instead of the bigger picture. Maybe get one of those "couple's questions" type of decks from Amazon.

Some of you may be trying for a baby and I see positive signs here. Make sure to really tune into your empress energy. Know that you have abundance interwoven in your energy and DNA.

TL;DR: Some of you may be experiencing some friction with a partner or may be newly single. You will feel like going out and doing you. I see that you and this other person may struggle with communication and understanding each other. Take some time apart to cool off. Don't make any impulsive decisions you will regret later. If you choose to reconcile, focus on getting know each other for who you truly are. Maybe do this in a light hearted way with some couple's quizzes/games.

Oracle: The One of Wonders + Oil and Water

I'm definitely getting some kind of love-hate vibe. Someone you can't live with but you also can't seem to live without. I knew I was getting an LGBT vibe when I started this reading. I think some of you in this pile could belong to the community. Whether you are single, or going through a break with you partner, I see you dusting off the "freakum" dress and wildin out. Maybe you feel like you deserve this. You've earned the right to have some carefree nights.

Hey, I'm not going to stop you. If you like it, I love it! Go ahead and get it out of your system. Just be safe my dearies. Remember you might end up having a veryy honest discussion with a partner/love interest so don't do anything you might not want to share.

Pile 3: Spring

Off the Bat: Before I even began shuffling I was getting a kind of scorned feeling. Some of you may be thirsty for some kind of revenge. That's kind of funny because I have been wanting to do a "Get Your Lick Back" reading 🤣🤣 But I didn't know if that was too messy for the first week of 2024.

4 Card Spread: Queen of Swords, The Chariot, The Magician, and The Devil. Bottom of the deck is 6 of Cups.

I think you will be taking more charge in your love life. Its like you have a fire under you that's driving this energy. You could be experiencing some kind of heartbreak or toxic cycle.

You will probably be hearing from this person or reaching out to them yourself. It will be up to you what you want to do with this situation. You could take them back and have passion but its likely that you will realize you have outgrown this situation. I think you have learned a lot about this person and you are ready to put up better boundaries.

Some of you could be leaving this person. You may not trust that they are going to maintain whatever change they are showing you. If you do know this person to be toxic and hurtful, you are making the right choice.

Regardless of your specific situation, I do think with the Chariot and Magician in the middle of your reading, you have the power to manifest whatever you need. Harness whatever surge of passion or energy you get and use it to go after what you want. Some of you will manifest communication after a fight or about a fight or betrayal.

For others I see your relationship improving. I think more effort will be put in to try and protect your foundation. It feels a bit scattered for some reason. I think your intentions are in the right place. Perhaps you would benefit from couple's counseling or something similar.

TL;DR: You will have the choice to end a toxic relationship or cycle. Some of you may find that you have outgrown a person or situation. You could manifest communication from someone that reveals some kind of truth. For others, there is a commitment to protecting what you have built with each other. If you fall into that group, consider couple's therapy! Ball is in your court no matter where you fall.

Oracle: Oil and Water + The Librarian

Read over the information for each card. I think the messages meant for you will jump out at you.

Lift Me Up by Rihanna and Demons by Imagine Dragons may have some messages you resonate with. Also check what the year of the dragon may mean for you

Pile 4: Winter

Off the Bat: I am getting a lot of air energy! I also turned off all my music and stopped sipping. Some of you could be moving into a pretty serious energy. You have priorities and don't want to waste energy on nonsense.

4 Card Spread: Page of Swords, King of Swords, 10 of Swords, and King of Wands. Bottom of deck is 10 of Cups.

Some of you could be dealing with a break up. If it hasn't gotten to that point, there may be a lot of cold energy between you and your partner or love interest. Perhaps they want to act single and keep you a secret and you just aren't cool with that? Or perhaps they have a secret of their own. I am picking up on some kind of immature and selfish behavior. I almost want to call it ridiculous. So maybe that is how you feel. Others of them may be burying themselves in work to get over some kind of pain. Whatever the case, you are not feeling emotionally fulfilled.

You feel comfortable putting a pin in things. Even though you may feel quite compatible with this person in a lot of ways, there is something missing. I feel like there may be lack of emotional availability from both sides but it could feel like they don't see you at all.

You may find yourself walking away with a heavy heart. I am seeing you represented by some very powerful cards! The Queen of Wands and High Priestess! This person may not have acknowledged your worth but that does not mean it isn't there. You have a lot of inner strength and power. Your mind and intuition are sharp. If you know you can do better, go out there and manifest it!

TL;DR: You may be kicking an unfulfilling person or situation to the side. If you are not being recognized and cherished by your partner, I think you already feel that it is time to go. You definitely have the energy to attract what you deserve. No more settling. You are walking away to get your mind right.

Oracle: Parted Paths + The Dependent

I hope you can see that. Please take read over the messages from each card and take what resonates.

Thank you everyone for stopping by. I hope it resonates. I've never done pick a card style readings before.

~K

[briskunt]

ike eveland hero/villain voice pack: no-spoilers review

got my hands on this voice pack recently and figured it would be prime content LMAO. i’m going to write down basic observations and hopefully it’ll convince y’all to support our boy 🙏

⚠️ BLIND REACTIONS TO THE VOICE PACKS BELOW! ⚠️

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

hero pack

first off this is one of the longer (if not longest ⁉️) standalone voice pack i have in my collection. hell, it might be twice as long as some other vps i have

ike has a lower voice than usual here. very warm blanket

but also a rougher type of ike, i think. he’s still the sweet guy you expect, but with a little more weight and responsibility, you know? most of the time people default him to “cute ike” so this is a really nice look into “cool ike” as well as cute

CORNY SCHWORNY SOUND EFFECT

speaking of i would be doing the audio boy a disservice if i didn’t mention the audio quality. ike vps have excellent atmospheric sound design and when i compare this one to his past vps, you can tell he had fun picking out sfx and mixing them

i’m impressed how much worldbuilding there is and how naturally it’s been implemented. this is an immersive vp

if you like when ike gets assertive and speaks up you’ll be happy. and if you like when ike gets royal-flash levels of chuuni dork you’ll be happy

CORNY SCHWORNY SOUND EFFECT RETURNS

might be my editor brain being nitpicky but he uses the same phrase to transition twice in a row and it set me off

oh holy shit he calls you that?

oh this voice pack would do numbers with a demographic

easily one of my new favorite vps. i don’t have every ike vp so apologies if this doesn’t apply, but out of my collection this one hits a niche that none of the others do: a cool, nonchalant-badass, resolute typa ike. don’t misunderstand though, he’s still as dorky as ever. honestly i think this is the dorkiest i’ve seen him in a vp

this pack is less fanservice, more story. yep, there are moments that seem romantic, but it’s very easy to imagine the relationship between ike and the listener as something else. it’s versatile and i really enjoy that considering how many voice packs go into the whole heterosexual-romance thing. i wasn’t kidding about the worldbuilding. it’s simple but effective, and illustrates the setting excellently. close your eyes when you listen to this one, it’s a good experience. ike put a lot of detail and effort into the voice performance and sfx, and it shows

if you liked luca’s pampering/scolding voice, you might enjoy this one too. definitely recommending for anyone that loves when ike takes the lead, or anyone that appreciates an ambiguous relationship between liver and listener! honestly, this would be an incredibly safe buy for even folx hesitant on buying voices. ike flexes some aspects of his wide range not just as a voice actor but also as a writer and sound designer. if you’ve heard that quilldren get well-fed from ike voices then they’ll be FEASTING on this one

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

villain

the wallpaper is only included in the villain pack. this art WILL make you sick in the head. i really love the rendering and lighting. you can recognize a lot of elements from his 1.0 outfit like the pattern on the left of his mantle, the pins (?), and his book. i’m glad i’m not tempted to change my wallpaper, because in every wallpaper included in the pack, ike or shoichi’s face would always get cut off by the clock on my iphone’s lock screen. beautiful artwork stunted by how niji awkwardly cuts off wallpapers

okay fuck what i said earlier now THIS is the longest standalone voice pack i own. and it’s not even close. looks like someone outdid himself

again low voice ike tskr tskr whatever. it’s lower than the hero pack. i haven’t compared it to the halloween eki stream, but it’s basically a faster-paced, perkier(?) eki voice

(to be clear it’s not eki. this is villain!ike. i think. will not update if it actually is him, i ain’t spoiling that)

surprisingly domestic here

he says a lot of big words

it’s giving cyrus from pokémon. you understand.

oh my god the backstory

LESGOOOOO THE LAUGH

oh he’s a little fucked up in this one

just a heads up: i’m sure it was plain before but the villain pack has way darker themes than the hero one. do i think it’s intense? not really. but if you have #yandere blocked then you might want to skip this one

once again the relationship is ambiguous here but imo it sounds more romantic than the hero one. this might be an overstatement, but if you can’t handle dubcon in general i’d also skip this. again, nothing explicit happens but if you really can’t stand when the villain has a good guy in their clutches, skip this one

anyways. that rasp is worth the warnings 😳

this is definitely a voice pack for a demographic

and i also understand why my friend popped off in the gc about it LMMAOOOOO

look. it’s a sfw voice pack. but if you’re a kinky son of a bitch you’ll find something to enjoy here. he talks down on you a bit and the subject matter sure is the subject matter.

i think of this as a more intense version of the hero pack. the setting is completely different than what you get in the hero pack and feels a lot more visceral. for example the sound effects are a bit more “realistic”, and the listener is in a dangerous place without any backup. to be clear: the listener is not evil in the villain vp.

i worry that i’m being too heavy-handed about warnings but considering some folx’ boundaries online it bears repeating! if you can’t handle yandere or dubcon, be careful. but if it’s only a mild discomfort to you, it should be fine.

regardless i doubt there will be another one vp like this for a long time. if you soaked up the eki stream like a sponge? GET THIS! if you like ike being mean and deranged get this. if you’re down horrendous sure, get this i guess, and then follow it up with ike’s white day ex if you have it? i feel like that would be a good pairing.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

overall

if you’re into voice packs then i’d say getting one of these is a must-buy. if not for the romance, then for the story and worldbuilding. if. if not the story then because hero!ike is a darling and villain!ike is hot.

even if he’s not your oshi ike’s packs are always a delight! and these are some of the most fun i’ve had with one of his releases. idk what else to say. if you like the guy even a little, it’s worth listening to. he’s definitely in his wheelhouse on both hero and villain. if this is your first ike vp you may be surprised how high the production value is considering it’s all by one guy

get hero if you want a lighthearted conflict, immersion, and a connection to the listener that isn’t necessarily romantic. get villain if you want more drama, more danger, more… uh… i wouldn’t really call it degradation but he has his moments. there isn’t a connected story, so feel free to get both but don’t sweat it if you don’t!

[tiasmediaprofession]

Blog: A how-to guide I need to follow to get my dream media job.

As suggested in the vlog the profession in the media industry I want to go into is design and digital marketing. To achieve this, I will need to follow the following plan and timeline.

1.Take the right courses and choose relevant electives

Setting yourself up from the start by learning the right skills in the right courses for your career is important. For design and digital marketing enrol and make sure you’ve done or are planning to do courses that are essential for all media degrees and more niche electives with relevance and application of graphic design, marketing, branding or even English and writing based electives. Make sure you’re doing these courses early on in your degree to make sure that its relevant to your interests, but also to organise so that if you wanted to do a design elective in your third year you would have completed all the prerequisites to not be faced with complications.

2.Express interest in internships and participate in university assisted opportunities to get as much experience as early on as possible

Sign up to get emails with opportunities and internships from the University of Adelaide careers hub. When you hear about an opportunity even remotely relevant put your name down - You never know what might help you the future and the more experience the better. “Employers are keen to recruit graduates from a whole range of disciplines, and specialist knowledge or enthusiasm for an unusual subject can be a tremendous asset”. (Gregory, 2008) Basically, any skills may turn out be good skills so just give it a shot.

3.Build up a contact list of connections

Through internships, peers in your classes and other opportunities build a contact list of people in the industry so that you can better your chance at finding opportunities that best suit you and your goals. Networking and building your contacts is one step to have actual value in your contacts list you actually need to leave an impression on them so that they will remember you among their contacts. “When you find the right people and impress those people, everything else will take care of itself”. (Leibman, 2012)

4.In final year of degree undertake an internship that is completely alike to the profession

It will give you the best first experience seeing exactly how your first job after university will be. An internship shadowing a designer or leader of a marketing team or doing entry level projects as an intern will better the understanding you have for content in the rest of your media courses but also will help you develop new skills to put on your resume. “Surveys show that more than one-third of students who intern at organizations are hired by the employer after graduation, and half of all new hires had previous internship experience”. (Scheele, 2005) Evidence, like this exemplifies how beneficial internships would be.

5.Graduate with all the skills, experience and motivation achieved from degree

Following all the previous advice in the guide at this point you should have excelled in your studies at university level and would be ready to apply your experience as soon as you can.

6.Ideally, use contacts and connections when applying to work in a digital design and marketing profession

Relying on the fact that you would have built up a great reputation with professionals you have met in the media industry hopefully that if you use your resources well your contacts will vouch for you and the skills and experience you have demonstrated to them only being a university graduate.

7.Once you have your job don’t lose motivation, apply skills learnt at university and excel creating new goals to advance in the field.

Once you’ve gotten a job, strive for more. Without a goal you won’t stay motivated to excel once you’ve settled into your career. Look for something that will be a challenge to you.

References

Gregory, Georgina, et al. Careers in Media and Film : The Essential Guide, SAGE Publications, Limited, 2008. ProQuest Ebook Central, http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/adelaide/detail.action?docID=420885. Created from adelaide on 2023-08-18 11:44:59.

LEIBMAN, PETE. I Got My Dream Job and So Can You : 7 Steps to Creating Your Ideal Career after College, AMACOM, 2012. ProQuest Ebook Central, http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/adelaide/detail.action?docID=876799. Created from adelaide on 2023-08-18 11:26:34.

Scheele, Adele M.. Launch Your Career in College : Strategies for Students, Educators, and Parents, Bloomsbury Publishing USA, 2005. ProQuest Ebook Central, http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/adelaide/detail.action?docID=495201. Created from adelaide on 2023-08-18 12:41:39.

[dark666posting]

Until He's Bored

TW: NON-CON, NON-CON, NON-CON *** Flayed Billy, dark!Billy, Lifeguard Billy

Summertime meant the local public pool was quite literally swimming with townsfolk. Normally, you'd be right along with them. Tanning and reading in a lounge chair next to the pool, but this Summer, you're looking to make a little extra money, so you apply to be a lifeguard.

"Can you swim?" The rude woman conducting the interview pops her bubblegum.

"Uh... Yeah? Why else would I-" your tone was as kind as you could keep it, you didn't want to be rude back, it was just a silly question.

"You're hired, you start tomorrow. at 4 PM." She tosses you a lanyard with a whistle at the end. "Get a red bathing suit. One piece." The woman walks away, ignoring the fact that you are wearing a red one-piece with shorts over it.

"Thanks!" You call to the woman, but she's long gone. You roll your eyes before heading back to your car. As you walk past the busy water, you feel someone's eyes burning into the back of your head. You turn around and spot a man in the life guard's chair. He's staring at you intently, bringing his whistle to his lips slowly. His half-lidded eyes travel up and down your body as you furrow your brow and walk a little faster.

"Fucking weirdo," you huff to yourself as you pull your seatbelt over your shoulder. You toss and turn in your bed for hours, excited about a new Summer Job. You become less excited when you remember the guy that was blatantly checking you out at the pool. Hopefully, he won't be the one training me, you think to yourself.

You arrive at 3:45 PM, eager to make a good first impression. It's a Monday, so there are drastically fewer people and lifeguards here.

"You're early," A voice echoes down the lockers where you're stuffing your belongings away for the day. You turn and see the man from yesterday walking toward you. You roll your eyes to which he raises his eyebrows. "Not too excited for your first day?"

"No, of course I am. Sorry." You force a smile, trying to dismiss his gawking as regular men behaviour.

"Billy," he smirks, sticking his hand out to shake yours. You take his hand firmly and give him your name in return. He starts guiding you around the area, explaining where everything is. You take in his information, thankful he's so knowledgeable. Over the next few hours, you start to enjoy his company. Maybe he's not that weird, he's certainly not ugly.

"What made you wanna be a lifeguard?" Billy asks, fighting with his whistle. You're both sitting at a small picnic table by the pool, the only swimmers that came today we're a mother and daughter and they're leaving as the two of you chat.

"I know how to swim and I need money," you quip. Billy laughs with his white, perfect teeth on display. The sun casts a gleam against his tan, sweaty chest. After a few more hours of chatting and routine pool cleaning, he leads you to show you how to lock up.

"Alright, now follow me," he says. His voice is different now. Deeper, more urgent. You notice, but chock it up to him being tired after such a slow day. He's walking fast and you lose him behind a corner.

"Billy?" You cup your hand around your mouth to amplify your voice as you call for him. No answer. You wander for almost an hour, wondering where he went. "Do I just... Leave? I don't-" you're cut off when he reappears behind you. "Holy shit, you scared me, man," you clutch your chest and laugh, your pulse races from the fear.

"Y/N," Billy stalks closer to you, slowly. You take a step back when you notice he's dripping sweat, almost causing a puddle in the floor beneath him.

"Billy, are you okay?" Your eyes are wide and you're shaking as you step back, but he only draws closer. In the blink of an eye, he has both of your arms pinned to your sides with just his hands. You can't budge even a centimeter, his strength was like something out of a superhero movie. At this distance, you could finally see the small, black veins rising in his skin. His face was dark and his eyes were hollow and looked like he was in pain.

A loud shriek escapes your lips, he looks like a monster. He picks you up like you're nothing and carries you to a nearby office. He throws you on the concrete ground roughly, knocking the wind from your lungs. Towering over you, he seethes through his teeth.

With a quick dragging of his arms across the office desk, he clears the top and grabs you by the front of your bathing suit, hoisting you up onto the desk, ripping it in the process. You scream and kick at him, but he's like a stone statue. He grabs the sides of your arms again and slams you down, hard. You struggle against him, blushing with embarrassment as he stares at your exposed breasts through the tears in your suit.

"Hold very still," he whispers. "It'll be over soon." He positions himself between your legs as they hang off the desk. A swift hand travels to his waistline, tugging his swimming shorts down and exposing his twitching erection that wasn't spared by the terrifying black veins.

"Stop! Please don't! Billy, please!" You twist and scream, but he effortlessly overpowers you. The sound of your pleas only makes him harder, his eyes threatening to roll back as he listens to your crying.

"Hold still or this is gonna hurt," another whisper flows from his lips before he reaches between your legs and pulls your bathing suit to the side. You sob loudly, begging him to release you, promising you won't tell anyone if he'll just let you go right now.

"Billy," you blurt between his rough, painful thrusts. "Please, it hurts. It fucking hu-" he cuts you off with a hard, burning slap to the face. You scream in pain, unable to stop your body from becoming wetter at the sensation.

"You must like getting slapped around." Billy's voice is cold and comes out in sharp huffs as he bucks into you. "You're begging me to stop, but you're so fucking wet."

"Please, it hurts," you whine, tears falling down your cheeks steadily. He laughs as he picks up his pace, the sharp breaths he inhales indicating he's nearing his climax. You squeeze your eyes shut, desperate for it all to be over.

"I'm sorry," he whispers against you, his voice sounding like his normal self. You open your eyes and see the veins are retreating. You feel a sense of relief as his skin returns to normal, but he doesn't stop fucking you.

"B-Billy, Billy stop," you beg, once again working up the strength to squirm under him. He's still much stronger than you, but not like before.

"I'm almost done," he huffs. You burst into tears again, begging and crying for mercy.

"I can't take it! Please!" Your back arches against your will and your legs start to shake sporadically. You finally orgasm, soaking his dick in your arousal as he continues to pump inside you.

"You're gonna take it." Billy thrusts as fast as he can before finally slamming in one last time. You feel his cock twitch and flex inside you as he finishes. He nearly collapses, falling on top of you on the desk. You're both covered in sweat, the only sound is the off-beat pattern of both of you breathing heavily.

After a few moments, your chest begins to heave with uncontrollable sobs. Billy raises himself on his hands, hovering over you. He scans your ripped bathing suit that now exposes your breasts. His eyes finally meet your crying face. He seems dissociated or confused. He climbs off of you and runs a hand through his hair.

"B-Billy..." You attempt to sit up, but you're too weak.

"I-I-" he starts. "I don't know what happened. I don't-" he sounds shocked.

"Please help me," you sob. He only laughs in return. He walks to the door to the office and locks it. "Billy?"

"I was gonna draw this out over a few weeks. Maybe follow you home a few times. For some reason, I just couldn't stop it." Billy makes his way back over to you. Your last drop of adrenaline kicks in and you try to get up and run away, but he quickly grabs your arm and yanks you back to the desk.

This time, he bends you over at the waist, pressing your head firmly against the wooden desk.

"Billy, stop! Please stop! Please, I can't take anymore, I won't tell anyone!" Your begs make his eyes roll back as he takes in a deep breath through his nose. You kick at him, desperate to spare yourself the inevitable pain and possible damage if he fucks you again.

"Keep begging, I love the way you whine." He gently rubs your clit before lining up at your pussy. You're dripping his cum and your arousal down your legs as he uses the head of his dick to play with your hole. "You're so wet, don't pretend you don't want it." He chuckles, knowing his cum is pouring out of you.

"Please... Please..." Your voice is weak and quiet now, you're finally giving up. He releases a long, satisfied sigh before slipping his cock past your folds. You sob quietly as he goes to town on you like he didn't just fill you with cum only moments before. Small, loud whimpers escape your lips as he smacks your ass repeatedly.

His moans sound like growls, like an animal tearing apart its prey. He's rough and merciless, fucking into you like a sex toy. You try one more time to fight, to get away, but he quickly and easily holds your arms behind your back, pinned with just one of his hands. The pit in your stomach builds up again and you know you're nearing another unwanted climax.

You sob out a moan and find your vision going blurry. Your eyelids flutter while your eyes roll back in your head. Billy laughs at you, watching himself fuck you out of consciousness. You finally pass out and he finishes inside you a second time.

"Fuck!" He yells as his dick flexes inside your tight walls. He slips out of you and stares at your unconscious, fucked out body. Your legs are shaking and your breath is still shallow sobs of pain and violation. Billy smiles, proud of his work. He takes a seat in the office chair, waiting for you to wake up.

About an hour passes and you finally open your eyes. You're facing the door. Relief washes over your body as you realize you survived the horror that just occurred in this room. You begin to raise yourself off your chest, your weak arms wobble under your weight.

Suddenly, you realize the door is still locked. Meaning... You turn your head the other way and see Billy smiling at you with his silver whistle pinned between his white teeth. He stands and makes his way toward you, hand on the bulge in his shorts.

"No!" You scream, but it's no use. He's just going to keep taking you until he's bored.

And he doesn't really ever get bored.

[tanoraqui]

this stunning art says it’s time for my long-awaited (to me) extended headcanon breakdown of the kings of the Noldor

Finwe

Finwë was a good king, he really was. He was responsible, inspiring; he dared to trust and to explore; he was probably even pretty good at administration and politics

He led his people through dark lands to light and they loved him for it

He just could NOT apply these skills to family. Perhaps because he loved them all too dearly to put his foot down properly, perhaps because he kept hoping that in the promised land of bliss it would all somehow work out...but his family WAS politics...

And Feanor kinda WAS the favorite, but also the child most obviously in need of care so he got the attention for that too...

Finwe was a good king but a merely alright father, overall

Though he did try

Fëanor

Fêanor would've been, was, a terrible king and Fingolfin was SO right to say so. Fëanáro 'constantly traveling' Curufinwë. Fëanáro 'okay, buckling d- ooh what’s THAT academic/crafting/parental discipline? I bet I can revolutionize it!' Curufinwë (and then he does, of course). Fëanáro “if I sublimate all grief and guilt into victimized rage, I never even have to think about the process” Curufinwë.

This elf had 20 char, 20 int, and 10 wis at best, and alas the char+int made people THINK he'd be a good king when he insisted loudly and eloquently

But they and he were WRONG! 

Fëanor has only ever read and/or signed paperwork out of spite

Fëanor would do much better as that Miles Vorkosigan kind of character, where he’s close to the throne, loved dearly and trusted utterly, but not given any sort of desk job, and instead just kind of aimed at problems sometimes while everyone else sits back and waits for the inevitable, hopefully beneficial explosions

Fingolfin

Fingolfin was a good king. He had a natural knack for responsibility, practicality, foresight, complex problems and politics, and if he wasn't as naturally charismatic as Fëanor (no one was) he was still damn compelling, and he worked at building alliances

Fingolfin studied debate like a craft. Fëanor's speeches could rile a crown but Fingolfin's rhetoric could make you forget you'd walked into this room with a different position. The only one who could out-argue him was Anairë

(Fingolfin may or may not have developed entire rhetorical strategies, ie, honed the ability to be antagonizingly calm and logical, for the primary purpose of pissing off Fëanor. It worked.)

The Noldor would do entirely well with Fingolfin as king forever. He wants the job and he wants to do it well, with intelligence and care, so he would. Whatever natural talents he lacks, he appends himself to acquiring. He would even check and balance himself so as to not lose control like either his father or his...Fëanor

(the Ice was a very good time for asking oneself things like “why am I doing this” and “what could I have done better”, and he carefully maintained the habit in Beleriand, and afterward)

Fingolfin thinks he has the capacity to be calm about things but actually it’s a lie that he tells so well he convinces even himself, until he does something like completely snap, personally challenge Morgoth to a duel, and permanently injure him with his dying blow.

Finarfin

Left out of this art but i'm including him anyway! Finarfin never wanted this goddamn job. 

Finarfin wanted to live on the beach with his beautiful wife and children, and go home to his family for working holidays (working bc extended birth family). Finarfin is the ONLY child of Finwë born with a natural capacity to be Chill and not need to impress everyone he meets. (Possible other exception: Lalwen.)

Nonetheless, Finarfin rose to the challenge when he needed to, and after centuries of experience he's very good at it. He has a knack for finding the best people to delegate to, which is an UNDERVALUED skill especially in his overachieving family

Finarfin is also the only member of his immediate family who unironically enjoys reading reports and signing paperwork. It’s peaceful. Does nobody else appreciate peaceful things? (They do not.)

Also he's secretly simmering with resentment, rage and vengeance and one day i WILL write about him kicking Morgoth's ass personally, with the help of all his few remaining relatives at the end of the First Age (which wins him a few points with the still-hardline Fëanorians when they get out of Mandos)

(That said, most of Finarfin’s reputation for skilled peace-making in tumultuous early Second Age Valinor was based on him sending his eldest son to talk to the most fiercely squabbling factions, because almost every variation of Elven kindred came out of the First age liking or at least grudgingly respecting Finrod)

skipping the obvious next in line for a moment to talk about Fingon

In an ideal world, Fingon would never have been king

Yes, he was swayed by the idea of exploring new lands and ruling them in his own right - but he was also in his elf!mid-20s and still living with his parents or at least firmly under their dominion, and that of his grandfather and the Valar. Of course so many of these people wanted to get away to somewhere more independent, royalty and not! And it’s inescapably noticeable that when he got to Middle Earth, all his notable acts were as his father’s field general, not as Lord of Dor-lomin - a fief later given to Men anyway - and the great alliance formed during his brief tenure as High King was the Union of Maedhros…

Fingon could be a decent king, if he had to be, but only in the unexplored post-story way that often happens to protagonists after they save the kingdom and get the girl, where in your practical heart you know that they wouldn’t really be able to enact all the reforms one might dream of...

Because Fingon’s proper role in a story isn’t kingship - it’s to be a Hero. He climbs the dark mountain and rescues the missing prince, with a song, a knife and a prayer. He leads the defeat of the orc army and he figures out how to fend off the dragon. He is valiant and a loyal friend; all who meet him know it immediately and cannot help but love him for it.

And for both of these features he challenges the Enemy at his door and so dies, and the High Kingship of the Noldor in Beleriand dies with him

Turgon

...because I love Turgon, I do. Turgon’s natural state is to be an upper-middle-class dad, mayor of a medium-sized town whose re-election is never challenged, who often takes afternoons off to take his daughter to doctor appointments or soccer games. Turgon should get to wear the most expensive jackets in the Land’s End catalogue. Turgon, I think, was a much happier, open person before Elenwë died on the Ice, and he never forgave the Fëanorians for her death, not unto the end of Arda itself. Turgon is a cat person but he’s best friends with a dog person (despite...hiccups) (to Finrod being a dog person; not to their best-friendship)

And Turgon was a great ruler of Gondolin! 

But the only reason the Quenta Silmarillion acknowledges him as a High King is that the Quenta Silmarillion was told mostly by a Gondolindrim

Gil-galad

Like Finarfin, Gil-galad spent much of the Second Age trying to pull endlessly fractal factions of elves into a coherently, or at least non-violently, co-habitating community. Finarfin, however, gets to deal with this mostly in continuous drips and drabbles as people re-embody; Gil-galad had this problem ALL AT ONCE from Day One. One day when Gil-galad re-embodies, they’ll amicably debate who had it rougher

Gil-galad also, like Finarfin with Finrod, 100% cheated by sending Elrond to deal with the most fractious factions, because almost every elf left in Middle Earth at the start of the Second Age was vulnerable to Elrond looking authoritatively Disappointed in them. (Gil-galad was vulnerable to Elrond looking Disappointed in him, albeit not so much the ‘authoritative part. Disappointing Elrond was emotionally tantamount to a capital crime.)

Gil-galad was also very good at managing this chaos in his own right, without alienating anyone and even with generally endearing himself to everyone

Despite [checks wordcount] 21k and counting of AU to the contrary, my preferred Gil-galad headcanon is that he was Just Some Guy from Nargothrond who stepped the fuck up after the city fell. He unofficially led and represented the Noldor in Balar and then more officially during the War of Wrath, possibly while deliberately misleading a wide variety of people with a wide variety of implications about his parentage...and afterwards there was a whole public ceremony where Celebrimbor, Elrond, and Galadriel all declared him “king” and “cousin” and the question never really arose again during his reign.

HOWEVER my TRUE Gil-galad belief is expressed in @herenortherenearnorfar’s excellent fic “Five Gil-Galads Walk Into A Bar”, which proposes that no matter what his parentage, Gil-galad would always turn out roughly the same, because the Noldor (and etc. Second Age elves) needed a king and so he became one.

And he was good at it

But when he re-embodies, he content to leave the High Kinging to someone else, and simply take over managing the sub-kingdom of Tol Eressëa (where they welcome him gladly)

(Potential honorable mention: Lalwen

Lalwen, whose characterization is of course based entirely on headcanon, might be Queen of Tol Eressëa for a few thousand years, unless Finrod gets stuck with the job - but I think he more likely centers his life around Tirion, while ofc traveling a great deal? 

Lalwen doesn’t want to be queen of anything, but she’s the only member of the House of Finwë who survived Beleriand while remaining in good standing with the Valar—good enough to come home, at least. She can do admin, or at least, she can competently delegate admin. She can do politics, second only to Fingolfin in the family for it - she’s no rhetorician nor speechifier, but she has very good people skills. She wants to help make her people’s, all people’s, lives better wherever she can, and she gets along alright with most varieties of Beleriand veterans, and she’ll do her duty if her little brother asks it... But she just does not want to be the one In Charge. She’s so happy when Gil-galas re-embodies.)

And at last, the poor little orange meow-meow of the First Age…Maedhros

Maedhros is ideal High King of the Noldor, or at least, he would’ve been. First let me tropily ramble a bit:

Just as Fingon should never have been King, Maedhros should never have been forced into such a protagonist-y role. It broke them both. In a story that wasn’t a tragedy, Maedhros would’ve been the tier-1 supporting character whom the hero rescues in Act 1 and who then has a compelling but not central character arc, and at the end we know we’ve won because we’ve put him on the throne while the hero retires to the country and/or runs off to have more lighthearted adventures with their new spouse (and/or stays and marries him, @Fingon if you must.) He’s the Jonathan of Conte. The Roy Mustang. The Rhy Maresh (Shades of Magic trilogy, V.E. Schwab, strong rec.) And then in the next-generation series, he’s a Reasonable Authority Figure who’s secretly badass.

Unfortunately, of course, The Silmarillion is not that story.

But there is, I swear, a Better Timeline out there somewhere wherein they just had more time before Morgoth Ungoliant struck. A timeline where Fëanor and Fingolfin had the opportunity to test a tentative truce without the worst circumstances in the world forcing it into overdrive and then breaking. A timeline where that went about as well as expected (ie, poorly), and Finwë soon put up his hands and said, “Alright, you know what, oh my beloved sons you are both demoted; I’m going on extended vacation and Maitimo is ruling Tirion in my absence” - and it would’ve worked because Fëanor would’ve been pleased that it was at least his son (Nelyafinwë indeed, ha!) and Fingolfin would’ve been satisfied that a) it wasn’t Fëanor, who is infuriating AND objectively bad at the job, and b) at least Finwë was treating them equaly for once

And moreover it would’ve worked because canonically Maedhros is the chief inheritor of Fëanor’s crowd-rousing fire, and he also shows Fingolfin’s practicality and responsibility (and tendency to suicide in extremis), and Finarfin’s ability to humble himself in the name of peace for his collective people...an ability to build eclectic but solid alliances best otherwise demonstrated by Finrod and maybe Finwë himself...let’s mine the raw headcanon and say Lalwen’s stubborn loyalty and determination to make everyone get along, and Findis’s possession of a firm moral compass...

It’s just that, of course, the loyalty and responsibility got twisted somewhere along the way, until the moral compass was first shoved to the bottom of a bag and then tossed out entirely, while his blazing spirit carried others along with him, and the losses from that meant that when push really came to shove on humbling himself for a greater cause, he couldn’t see a glimmer of hope that it would work, and...

Maedhros vibe as a king IS “beloved, must-respected, distinctly older brother who won’t start fights but will end them”

The difference between Maedhros as king and Fingolfin as king is mostly that Maedhros has a slightly greater natural affinity for it, especially the crowd-rousing - he’s got that Fëanorian 20 Charisma while Fingolfin is rocking a mere 19. Practically, there’s very little difference - way less difference than, say, Fëanor is happy with, in terms of how his eldest son and eldest half-brother do politics and project management. But Fingolfin is just slightly more studied at it; Maedhros has had to practice, of course, but he more does (older brothery) kingly things as an unthinking default

As mentioned in another post, I like to think that being a naturally skilled healer has always gone hand in hand with leadership in Arda, and Maitimo was no exception, but Angband and Thangodrim just Broke something in him and he never used Song nor any particular craft to heal anyone ever again...until, perhaps, after much healing in Mandos.

I think Maedhros’s surrender of the crown was clever politics, but also pure practicality in that he was well enough to snark about Thingol, practice clever politics, etc, but he wasn’t well enough yet in body or spirit to handle the job of High King of the Noldor as all their fractious fractions settled into a new life of siege warfare in a strange land. But he got better, and in the wake of Dagor Agraleb, there was a conversation like,  Fingolfin: You seem very well again, nephew. Maedhros: I am, thank you for noticing, Uncle. Fingolfin: Are we going to have a problem about that? Maedhros:  Fingolfin:  Maedhros:  Maedhros: No.  Maedhros: But, weirdly thank you for asking.

...But if everyone gets re-embodied eventually, changed forever but newly healthy in it, and has until the end of Arda to gravitate toward the personal ideal forms of their lives...well, for entertainment’s sake, I like to think that Maedhros come out of Mandos very determined to be nothing but a responsible older brother, publicly deferential vassal, and world’s best one-handed house-husband...but these people over here could also use some Responsible Older Brothering...and these people over here...and Fingon doesn’t want to sit in this committee but someone sensible ought to...if no one steps up and manages this new bridge project, it’s never going to get done...Uncle, have you tried this to make the bronzesmiths and the pewtersmiths stop fighting...

One day late(?) Fourth Age, Maedhros is trying to pick the perfect jewelry to match today’s court outfit and Arafinwë pokes his head in to be like, “here, try this” and hands him the High King crown. Maedhros says, “Oh, perfect– wait–” Arafinwë is already sprinting away shouting, “No takebacks! Eärwen and I will be on the beach!”

BUT I also think that sometime in the late Second Age, the semi-meritocratic, ever-insquabbling (like infighting but pettier) artisan guilds of the Noldor, + some political philosophers, give rise to the idea of general democratic elections for high office. So it’s probably a little more complicated than that.

[marta-bee]

You know, I was originally going to choose Merry for all the reasons @emyn-arnens mentions, but seeing the above reminded me how there are so many different ways to be competent, and how each of the hobbits capture different elements of it.

Merry, obvious, I absolutely agree with the above. I'd also add how he studied the maps in Rivendell and generally listened and added to his knowledge wherever he could. Our little man was always listening, always learning, and very skilled at applying that skill. But Sam had a whole other set of practical competencies - cooking, finding water, organizing gear and knowing what to cast aside and what to keep. I'm not saying Merry was only book-smart with no practicality, but the skills Sam brought to Frodo's side of the quest were I think much more developed than Merry would have been accustomed to as future Master of Buckland.

Frodo definitely had a knowledge of other peoples I think the other three lacked; I get the impression while they all had Bilbo's stories, Frodo had probably been tutored, and in more than just hobbit-lore. And that's a competency too because not only does it help him make allies, it also gives him this ability to keep pressing on. It's formal knowledge, more like what we'd describe as academic, book-learning, but it's a knowledge of peoples and past histories more than the geography and politics Merry seems more focused on. And while it's been a while since I've actually reread the book, I think Frodo is uniquely able to resist the ring's pull? Not immune to it, but he has a greater resistance. At the darkest places he seems to almost subconsciously pull on the old stories. So there's a skill being applied there, an ability to endure and persevere. Bronwe athan harthad, you know?

And Pippin also has a similarly psychological, maybe even spiritual capacity. It's not perseverance so much as hope, or maybe the ability to inspire hope in others. He's so young and there's something about him that seems to remind others you can change. Part of that's naivety and just operating in a very stratified culture coming from a world that didn't have so many divisions. I'm thinking of the way he uses pronouns differently so it seems like to everyone else, he's talking as equals to the Gondorians even without meaning it. Certainly there are several moments with Beregond when he reminds him all isn't lost. He prompts Gandalf to leave the battlefield so he can go and save Faramir from the Pyre; and though that was tragic, it's also a moment of him (Gandalf) being prompted to reconsider the path he'd committed himself to. There's also such a lightening of the sense of doom when he finds Merry after the Battle of the Pelennor Fields, though I'm reluctant to attribute that to his capability, it's probably more about just love and connection to better days. With the rest, though, there's just this reminder that you can always turn aside, for good hopefully, from the direction you had committed yourself to. Doom's not yet certain; change, and so hope, is still a possibility. And that's as key to victory as the ability to read maps or stew coneys, in my mind.

How the heck am I supposed to choose when they're all so durned capable but along polar opposite lines like that? And that's without throwing Fatty into the mix. A lost cause, I say.

Okay, okay, reading comprehension test for everyone who's read LOTR, since this poll has fallen to the film fans.

Not your favorite. The most competent (skilled and equipped for the journey). There is a correct answer to this.

[sundayswiththeilluminati]

The unplanned fourth part to my apparently-a-series on Essek Thelyss in the context of real-world espionage (parts 1, 2, and 3), today we look at an aspect of his story that doesn’t always apply in a D&D world: how do you prosecute espionage? 

Psych! That’s not the real question. The real question is: do you prosecute espionage? The answer is a) not as obvious as it might seem; and b) going to differ between D&D and the real world, because D&D governments are storytelling tools and IRL governments are...not.

The benefits of prosecuting espionage are obvious: the interests of justice are served, the person responsible can be punished appropriately and in accordance with the law, the full extent of their crimes are revealed (including potentially exonerating other suspects), counterintelligence gets to chalk up a win, and other people thinking about committing espionage themselves are hopefully discouraged. But there are a surprising number of arguments in the “against” column.

Some agencies that identify enemy assets want to leave them in place for their own purposes. For about 20 years during the Cold War CIA reserved the right to just plain not tell the Department of Justice if they had proof someone was engaged in espionage because they wanted the opportunity to turn them as double agents, feed them misinformation, etc. rather than outing and punishing them (President Gerald Ford ended this arrangement by executive order in 1976). This isn’t necessarily a good idea IRL, but it forms the bread and butter of RPG espionage storylines and is definitely something to think about in a D&D context.

In the real world, ideally someone can only be found guilty of a crime and punished accordingly after a trial, and an agency often finds itself with sufficient evidence to doubt a person’s trustworthiness but not enough hard proof to take to court. In those cases agencies may decide to leave that person in place but cut off their access to classified info. Ironically, sometimes this means promoting them - moving the person into a higher-ranking job in a different area that just so happens not to deal in secrets. Sometimes the asset realizes they’re close to being rumbled and goes along with the effort, maybe taking retirement early or changing jobs before they can be pushed, and the whole matter will quietly lapse without anything so formal as a trial. Sometimes someone makes a mistake and sidelines a loyal, competent employee. That’s a judgement call.

In the real world, ideally someone can only be found guilty of a crime and punished accordingly after an open trial. Given how severe the punishments are for espionage, civilized countries do try to stick to that even though holding such a trial carries risks. Providing proof that someone stole secrets generally requires talking about said secrets, which means revealing classified info in court, which may negate trying to keep the information secret in the first place. They may also not want to reveal in court how they figured out that person was a spy, especially if it was a double agent or cryptographic source that fingered them. In D&D-land where monarchs are common and still wield judicial power, fantasy rulers may hand down whatever punishment they please based on whatever evidence they (or the DM) will accept, so this isn’t as much of a concern.

Even a D&D monarchy that doesn’t have to worry about revealing secrets in court might think twice before publicly punishing a high-ranking spy, though, because the only thing more embarrassing than failing to convict a major spy is succeeding. A government having to admit that its people were compromised, especially high-ranking people, is a body-blow to its standing both at home and abroad. It damages trust in the government, makes the public feel unsafe, and makes allies hesitant to share information lest their secrets be leaked as well. Lower-ranking government employees may think, “My boss is selling secrets, why not me too?” or “Why bother to follow security protocol when some mole will give it all away?” Every decision and contribution made by the asset becomes retroactively suspect, even those that had nothing to do with whatever secrets they leaked. The foreign nation to whom they passed information inevitably gets drawn in as well, negatively affecting those relations. And of course everyone involved looks very, very bad.

All of which leads me to say I think there’s a chance - maybe not a good chance, but a chance - that Essek could privately confess the affair to the Bright Queen without major public repercussions. Leylas Kryn could simply declare him a traitor and order his public execution without justifying herself, but it would raise a lot of questions and none of the answers would help her or the ruling dens; Den Thelyss allowing Den Kryn to unilaterally execute a high-profile member - a child of the umavi - without explanation would stoke ferocious rumors about what Essek might have done and cast a major shadow over the entire den. But publicly declaring what Essek had done also doesn’t do the Dynasty any favors. It makes everyone involved look very bad - how could they miss a spy at the highest level? so close to the Bright Queen herself?? who can be trusted??? - especially Den Thelyss, which might lose its place among the ruling three as a result. Publicly outing such a high-ranking Kryn official as compromised might set off the Dynasty equivalent of a Red Scare, too, since the Explorer’s Guide to Wildemount mentions the constant and well-justified Dynasty fear of agents sent by Lolth to destabilize the Kryn out of sheer spite that they got away from her.

By the time Campaign 2 ended the latest clash between Empire and Dynasty had been settled and neither side seemed to want to stir it up again right away. The fact that both stolen beacons have been returned also bolsters the case for letting the matter lie. A confession from Essek clears up remaining doubt on the Bright Queen’s end - while he doesn’t know every Empire agent in the Dynasty, he can tell her exactly how the beacons were stolen and who else was involved, probably clearing the names of many currently under suspicion. Essek would have to resign as Shadowhand, of course, and leave the Dynasty (at least for a couple centuries), but he never seemed interested in being Shadowhand and he wants to go exploring anyway. Den Thelyss definitely wants the whole affair swept under the rug and would go along with whatever story made that happen. Other than Verin I don’t get the impression many people would miss Essek except as a lost opportunity. I hope they’d give him long enough before leaving Rosohna to pack up his cool leyline-weathervane though. He could totally mount that on Yussa’s tower. Or Allura’s!

And that concludes this particular train of thought re: Essek Thelyss in the context of IRL spies and espionage. Again, all of this is only as relevant to the campaign as the players decide it is, so don’t go giving people crap for being “unrealistic” about their versions of how the beacon trade went down. Frankly the last thing you should want here is realism, because “realistic” espionage is a callous world of deception, manipulation, and general human pettiness with no sense of narrative flow.

None of what I’ve talked about is an excuse for Essek’s actions. But it is a reason. It’s why and how a person entrusted with precious national assets could get into a headspace where it seems reasonable, even necessary, to trade them away to foreign enemies. It’s how a person of otherwise decent character & beliefs can end up committing terrible crimes. It’s why that person might sincerely regret what they’ve done, and not just because they fear punishment. The Warmind Rasputin paraphrases Octavia E. Butler saying, “Misdirected by accident or intent, intelligence can foster its own ecstasies of growth and decay.” In other words: sometimes you get too far into your own head. Without an anchor to reality, without perspective, your own mind gets twisted up. Sometimes you just need a friend (or seven) to grab your arm and say, “Breathe.”

(This accidentally turned into a series on Essek & IRL espionage: Parts 1, 2, 3, 4)

[qvid-pro-qvo]

tales from the war room

the monster of a dragon age: inquisition fic that i've been working on that almost no one asked for. special thanks to @hotchseyebrows for being a beta and an encouragement, and to FluffyNinjaLlama on YouTube for an excellent playlist i used as a resource.

a female!inquisitor x cullen rutherford fic. verdanna, the inquisitor, is a dalish mage.

word count: 24,397

rating: mature, for the slow build and burn of something greater than themselves (warnings that apply also apply to the game - canon-typical violence, implied sexual content, as well as a healthy mixture of angst and fluff).

link to the fic on AO3.

-

A familiar face enters the room with Cassandra, and it is here Cullen properly meets the Herald of Andraste.

It was quick, the first time he met her, but the impression was immediate. A commander is nothing without his soldiers, after all, and she did her part in saving the ones with him at the Temple that fateful day.

“You’ve met Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition’s forces,” Cassandra confirms, nodding to him. He meets her gaze before shifting to look at the elven woman in front of him.

“It was only for a moment on the battlefield. I’m pleased you survived,” he offers.

Josephine and Leliana introduce and reintroduce themselves, offering themselves as ambassador and spymaster. But the pleasantries are over quickly, as war looms on the horizon. Thus the war room becomes such, and the first meeting begins.

“I mentioned that your mark needs more power to close the Breach for good,” Cassandra tells the Herald.

“Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help,” Leliana answers, too quickly for Cullen’s liking.

“And I still disagree,” he responds, turning to face her, brow furrowed. The Herald’s gaze follows them both. “The templars could serve just as well.”

“We need power, Commander. Enough magic poured into the mark -” Cassandra offers, but Cullen just straightens his spine.

“Might destroy us all. Templars could suppress the Breach, weaken it so -”

“Pure speculation.”

The dismissal is clear, and Cullen finds himself defensive. “I was a templar. I know what they’re capable of.”

Josephine lifts a hand and turns to the Herald, her tone firm. “Unfortunately, neither group will even speak to us, yet. The chantry has denounced the Inquisition. And you, specifically.”

“Didn’t take long at all for them to find an excuse to hate an elf,” she responds, voice dry.

“That’s not the entirety of it any longer,” Josephine clarifies. She holds her scroll with all of her newfound authority and hardwon knowledge. “Some are calling you - a Dalish mage - the ‘Herald of Andraste.’ That frightens the Chantry. The remaining clerics have declared it blasphemy, and we heretics for harboring you. It limits our options. Approaching the templars or mages for help is currently out of the question.”

Cullen can’t help the way his mouth feels glued shut at the revelation. Disparaging the mages, as a former templar, in front of an elven mage - clearly a misstep. But when he looks at the woman before him, there appears no ill will. Simply observation, curiosity. A glint of humor in her eye.

“And how am I the Herald of Andraste?”

The question is a fair one. One Cassandra answers easily, stating the facts - a woman coming from a hole in the sky with a woman silhouetted behind her. But even as the Seeker explains, the logic in her mind clear, it is obvious that the Herald doesn’t quite see the connection. Her face pinches a little.

“Even if we tried to stop that view from spreading -”

“Which we have not.” Cassandra interrupts Leliana, eyes narrowed at her, but Left Hand simply lifts her chin.

“The point is everyone is talking about you.”

At this point Cullen feels inclined to step in. His focus on the Herald has revealed just what he suspected - the word the Inquisition has created seems to weigh on her mind, judging by the way her brow is now furrowed, her jaw clenched.

“It’s quite a title, isn’t it?” he offers. Tilts his head. “How do you feel about that?”

It’s an olive branch, he supposes. One for his misstep earlier, so hastily disregarding the Herald’s own kind. It seems to catch her by surprise as she looks at him.

“It’s… a little unsettling,” she admits.

He can’t help his chuckle, and smiles as she does, a little quirk of her lips. “I’m sure the Chantry would agree.”

But no matter how she feels, Leliana and Josephine make it clear. The hope she inspires is equal to the fear she instills.

“So if I wasn’t with the Inquisition?”

Cullen stops that train of thought with a head shake and the simple truth. “Let’s be honest: they would have censured us no matter what.”

The next steps are decided. Leliana tells of Mother Giselle, a Chantrywoman willing to speak with and hear out the cause of the Inquisition - even if the face is one of a declared heretic, elven mage or otherwise. Cullen offers his own advice, to expand the influence of the Inquisition where she can, while she is in the Hinterlands and wherever she travels. And Josephine is clear in telling her that the more agents they recruit, the more their reach spreads, hopefully for the betterment of Ferelden and beyond.

Thus concludes the first meeting of the Herald and her advisors, and the war room christened. Cullen moves to follow Leliana and Josephine as they leave with Cassandra, but what stops him is the stillness of the Herald, her eyes following him closely.

“Do you need something?” he asks.

“No, no,” she says, but her gaze dips. He sees the light shine on her tattoos, the gentle glow almost making the red markings fade into her skin. There’s something… fiery about them, and just as he thinks it, the supernatural shine seems to dim. “Sorry. Just… thinking.”

Curiosity hits him again. He takes a step toward her. “About?”

She still seems hesitant, just as she did before. But there is a beat less before she answers, a sign Cullen takes as positive. “No one… really asked me how I was doing. I suppose I was just shocked it was the Templar who would be the first.”

His brows lift in surprise, before understanding sinks in. The irony isn’t lost on him, as well as the reality. The title she was given overwhelms all else - even her feelings on the title in the first place. With a little hum, he shrugs.

“I simply know if I was straddled with the hope of Andraste and her followers, especially as someone not of the faith… well. I perhaps would be feeling the pressure of that title, too. The good thing is that the people you have met are here to help moving forward, including myself,” he tells her, offering what he hopes is reassurance.

Her pinched brow seems to release, and her features smooth. It suits her, the relief, release. “Thank you, Commander.” She turns from him, moves to leave the War Room.

“Of course, Herald.” And then something rather embarrassing hits him. Even he is not immune to the hyperbole surrounding the face of their cause. He coughs, swallowing, and when she looks back with a raised brow, he smiles again. His face feels warm. “I regret to say that’s the only title I know you by - so perhaps some of the pressure could be relieved if more knew your name.”

Both of her brows lift, but then she’s smiling, a big grin that makes him feel stunned to his spot. She turns to him, gives a small bow, and nods to him. “Verdanna, of the Clan Lavellan. And as I said before, it’s a pleasure, Commander.”

“Verdanna,” he repeats, with a smile he can’t help. He bows back, and hears her little chuckle. “Cullen Rutherford. And the pleasure is mine.”

She goes, then. Leaves with a grace in her step, an ease to her movement. Something otherworldly, something magical. It seems cliche, considering the rumors about her, but for a moment he fully believes them all. Blessed by Andraste seems right. Fair.

He’s glad to be serving the cause, and glad that she is the one leading it.

(With further pressure, he might admit, even if she wasn’t the Herald, she would be one he wouldn’t soon forget, that smile in his thoughts more than he’d care to say.)

-

The Herald returns with Cassandra beside her, her steps into the Chantry still hesitant, uncertain. Whether because of the religious banners on the wall or the weight of her title, it’s uncertain, but Josephine meets her regardless, urgent.

“It’s good you’ve returned,” she greets them, as Cullen and Leliana strut towards the travelers. “We… heard of your encounter.”

Cassandra is mystified, the Herald similarly so. “You heard?”

“My agents in the city sent word ahead, of course,” Leliana says simply, Cullen close behind.

Cullen’s voice is strong as he looks at them both. His gaze fixes on the Herald. “It’s a shame the Templars have abandoned their senses as well as the capital.” For a moment, he’s grateful that neither have any clear injuries or signs of weariness, but the urgency of the meeting doesn’t fade.

The Herald meets his eyes and nods, the standard greeting between the two of them. She starts to move past him, her shoulder brushing his arm. “At least we know how to approach the mages and templars now,” she says to them. Perhaps even to him, as they all fall in step.

“Do we?” Cassandra says, voice weary. “Lord Seeker Lucius is not the man I remember.” Cullen can’t help but think the same, the report from Val Royeaux troubling in more ways than one. Striking a Sister? Abandoning the city, the Chantry, all together?

“He has taken the Order somewhere,” Leliana says, pensive, “but to do what? My reports have been… very odd.”

A sudden rush of defensiveness floods Cullen. He finds himself addressing Leliana and the Herald, as if to stand up for his former brothers in front of them. In front of her. “We must look into it. I’m certain not everyone in the Order will support the Lord Seeker.”

But it’s Josephine he doesn’t expect, and her suggestion comes in a calm dissent. “Or the Herald could simply go to meet the mages in Redcliffe, instead.”

Cullen whirls on her, walking backwards for a moment before the steps, eyes narrowed. His years of training, the Templar influence, shades his words before he can soften them. “You think the mage rebellion is more united?” he asks, voice sharp. “It could be ten times worse!”

But the Herald, a mage herself, disagrees. She steps forward, the face of their mission, and looks to them all. “I could at least find out what the mages want.”

If anything Cassandra looks even more exhausted. “No doubt what they’ve always wanted. Support for their cause.” But Josephine’s voice echoes the Herald’s sentiment, and even with Cassandra’s warning, the Herald doesn’t hesitate.

“So it’ll be dangerous,” she states, “but I’ve been in danger since I’ve walked out of the Fade.”

A… very fair point. Cullen holds his tongue for a moment more because of it.

“If some among the rebel mages were responsible for what happened at the Conclave--” Cassandra starts.

Josephine is quick to rebut. “The same thing could be said about the Templars.”

Cullen’s eyes follow the discussion, before he lets out a little sigh. The ambassador had a point, whether or not he wanted to admit it. “That’s true enough. But right now, I’m not certain we have enough influence to even approach the Order safely.”

“Then the Inquisition needs agents in more places,” Cassandra relents, turns to the elven woman still shoulder to shoulder with her. “That’s something you can help with.”

The Herald seems to pause. It’s as if Cassandra’s suggestion has taken her by surprise, but she lifts her chin to appraise the room. “A Dalish mage, spreading the good word of the Inquisition,” she hums. “And we’re sure this won’t make us seem… desperate? Or worse?”

The tone is light, but there’s a valid concern there, and Cullen finds himself watching the Herald’s eyes. She doesn’t turn to face him, but he doesn’t miss the way her brow furrows, nor the shift in her feet. Nerves, from her, seem so foreign, already her legend larger than life.

“Not at all,” Leliana counters. “But you are the face of our cause. There is no one better placed to convince those around us of the value of the Inquisition. And the more people we get on our side, the quicker we can truly begin the fight to close the Breach.”

“But surely there are others?” she tries. The red of her tattoos shine in the torchlight, and Cullen sees every line of them, the focus on the forehead. “To help the people see the value.”

“That is what we are here for, as your advisors,” Cullen says. And when she looks up, his voice softens. He sees the concern. The fear. The hesitance. “But you, Herald… you can give this… organization a voice. A name. An understanding to the people, a cause. As the Herald of Andraste, your voice has merit and value. More than the rest of us.”

Cullen is shocked by how much he means what he says. It’s earnest, firm. But that doesn’t discount the way the reality of the situation settles over them all. An elven mage, called the Herald of Andraste by the people, and the Herald is the first to laugh. When Cullen looks over, her eyes meet his. If he blinked, he would’ve missed the little wink.

But he doesn’t blink at all, and so his cheeks pinken at the motion.

“Your Maker help us all, then, Commander.”

-

Cullen can’t help the way his jaw twitches. His days with the Templars, with the Circle, sits heavy in his head, and as he looks at Cassandra, he feels… betrayed. How can they all not see the risk?

“Never mind the problem of the mages,” he finally relents, holding his arm tight against him, one hand on the hilt of his sword. His eyes don’t look towards the Herald, but he sees the way she stiffens. “But the truth of the matter is we don’t have the manpower to take the castle, anyway. Either we find another way in, or we give up this nonsense and go get the Templars.”

He has tried his best, truly, to watch his tongue when talking about mages. He’s told her himself - there were plenty of mages he judged without cause, and plenty more who walk the world without incident. But he can’t help the way it slips out, the problem of the mages… even in front of her, a mage in her own right, and a brilliant one at that.

“Redcliffe is in the hands of a magister,” Cassandra shoots back, and Cullen’s jaw tightens further. “That cannot be allowed to stand.”

Josephine pipes up. The letter from Alexius spread on the table before them all. “He asks for the Herald of Andraste by name. It’s an obvious trap.”

The next sound is laughter. A little chuckle. Cullen lifts his gaze to the Herald who is very carefully avoiding his eyes now. “Isn’t that kind of him. And what does Alexius say about me?”

There is no humor in Leliana’s voice. “He is so complimentary that we are certain he wants to kill you.”

“Not this again,” Josephine sighs out, but Cullen can’t help reemphasizing his point.

“Redcliffe Castle is one of the most defensible fortresses in Ferelden. It has repelled thousands of assaults.” When he turns back to the Herald, his face softens. “If you go in there, you’ll die. And we’ll lose the only means we have of closing these rifts.” His voice matches it, and when it does, he finally gets her to look up at him. “I won’t allow it.”

She looks back at him, steady. Eyes narrowed at him. He feels the weight of his stance on the mages, what he knows to be true, hit him with all the force of Cassandra’s shield. As well as something else. His determination to protect her from death, as well as the cause. But she doesn’t seem moved by his urging, simply lifts her chin as Leliana steps in. “And if we don’t even try to meet Alexius, we lose the mages and leave a hostile foreign power on our doorstep.”

Josephine brushes it off with a wave of her quill. Leliana’s eyes narrow at her, but she does not back down. “Even if we could assault the keep, it would be for naught. An ‘Orlesian’ Inquisition’s army marching into Ferelden? It would provoke a war. Our hands are tied.”

“But the magister -” Cassandra tries.

Cullen stops her before she begins. His eyes are narrowed now. “Has outplayed us,” Cullen tells them all. It echoes in the empty space.

The final tally is three for, two against. But Cullen and Josephine’s words settle over the room like a shroud. Energy ripped away from the three of them. Bitterness and frustration in his and Josephine’s words. It’s the first time Cullen feels out of step with the Herald. The first time he feels… uncertain.

And then the Herald speaks. And she does it with fierce determination, a glint in her eye, her mage’s staff on her back. Cullen finds him just as aware of it as he is her. He’s always so aware of her.

“We can’t just give up. There has to be something we can do,” she insists.

“We cannot accept defeat now,” Cassandra agrees, looking around the room. “There must be a solution.”

The Herald pushes on. Cullen finds himself ready to interrupt before she fixes him with a glare. It is meant to silence him, and it succeeds. “Other than the main gate, there’s got to be another way into the castle. A sewer? A water course? Something.”

There’s a brief pause. From everyone in the room. Cullen can’t help the furrow to his brow - the Herald hasn’t ceased her glaring, and he feels the need to shift in his boots. “There’s nothing that I know of that would work,” he tells her, voice less antagonistic. Placating. She doesn’t seem swayed. His previous words leave a sour taste in his own mouth.

Then. Leliana speaks. “Wait.” The whole war room turns to face her, and Cullen can breathe again. “There is a secret passage into the castle. An escape route for the family. It’s too narrow for our troops, but we could send our agents through.”

“Too risky,” Cullen counters, sighing. “Those agents will be discovered well before they reach the magister.”

“That’s why we need a distraction,” Leliana responds easily, addressing the Herald. “Perhaps the envoy Alexius wants so badly.”

It all clicks for Cullen, then. “While they’re focused on Lavellan, we break the magister’s defenses. It could work, but… it’s a huge risk.”

“Fortunately. You’ll have help.”

A new voice is heard, a surprise to all. Smug, cocky…and distinctly Northern. It makes Cullen’s jaw clench as the doors open, a tall Tevinter stepping forward, mustache curled, hair coiffed.

The dislike settles instantaneously in the commander’s soul. But even the disdain pointed at him from Cullen and Cassandra doesn't stop his stride into the room, the agent with him informing them of his presence.

“Your spies will never get past Alexius’s magic without my help,” the Tevinter tells them, and his eyes fall onto the Herald with ease. Cullen’s chin lifts. Does he know who he approaches? “So if you’re going after him, I’m coming along.”

The presence of the Tevinter. Journeying into Redcliffe, surrounded by enemy mages, a man who has studied the craft for decades. The commander feels his whole body tense, glances around the room before turning to the Herald. “The plan puts you in the most danger,” he tells her. “We can’t, in good conscience, order you to do this. We can still go after the templars if you’d rather not play the bait. It’s up to you.”

It isn’t even a moment later she responds. Voice firm. “Bold of you to assume you can order me at all, but I understand the point.” The Herald’s smirk is clear, and she looks toward the mage like she knows him. It’s almost… warm. “We’ll go to Redcliffe. Cassandra and Vivienne will join me and Dorian.”

Dorian. So she knows the man. It doesn’t ease Cullen’s suspicions - if anything it’s too convenient.

“That’s the plan?” Cullen asks, trying to help her see reason. He wants to turn to the other advisors for backup, assistance, but her eyes are already on the mage again before he can ask further.

“I, for one, can’t wait,” Pavus says. He looks to the Herald with an expectation. “What excursion could be more delightful than going to stop a Tevinter cult?”

And she, much to the commander’s surprise, laughs. It’s boisterous, and loud, and Pavus’s smirk is almost as quick as hers. “Well, then. Let’s get you some armor, Dorian.”

“What? I’ll have you know I’m wearing the finest the North has to offer.”

“How long has it been since the North has seen Southern lands? Come on. Let’s get you something that will actually hold up to a sword.”

Dorian’s laugh matches the Herald’s, and the two of them walk out together - there is more laughter down the hall as they talk.

“Tevinter cult?” Cassandra says, and her jaw twitches with her forlorn anticipation. “The Herald certainly knows how to pick her battles.”

“And her companions,” Leliana offers as well, though there is a hidden joy in her tone.

“His name is Dorian Pavus,” Cassandra fills them in, “and it seems that is… how he is all the time.”

“Our work with the Imperium is minimal,” Josephine says, “but I recognize the surname. Another Pavus is a part of the Magisterium in Tevinter. The house itself is quite powerful.”

Mage. Tevinter. Connected. A recipe for the disaster. Cullen feels his shoulders lift, almost to help his gaze follow the elf down the long stretch of hall to the rest of Haven. “Pavus,” he murmurs, voice bitter. “We must keep an eye on him.”

“If anything, the Inquisitor certainly will,” Leliana intrudes again. There is nothing to miss in her tone and this time it’s enough for Cullen to scowl. He turns his head downward to the map, to hide it, but he can’t help the feeling that Leliana’s keen eyes are on him anyway.

-

“It’s not a matter for debate,” Cullen tells the gathered council, eyes narrowed. “There will be abominations among the mages, and we must be prepared.”

Josephine cuts in, tilting her chin up at him. “If we rescind the offer of an alliance, it makes the Inquisition appear incompetent at best, tyrannical at worst.”

It’s then the Herald approaches. Before he can stop himself, their eyes meeting prompts his anger. “What were you thinking? Turning the mages loose with no oversight? The veil is torn open!”

The Herald’s voice stays steady, even as Cullen’s grows louder. “We need them to close the Breach. It’s not going to work if we make enemies of them.”

“I know we need them for the Breach, but they could do just as much damage as the demons themselves!” He can’t help his indignance, but his memories of the Circle seem to cloud his vision, his mind. He can barely think of anything else.

“Don’t you think I would know that?” Her voice seems to echo around him, clearing his thoughts. He doesn’t shake with it but feels buffeted by the sudden force, and is reminded suddenly and clearly how much of a mage the Herald truly is.

No one else seems to notice. Cassandra pushes on, her hand reaching to gently touch Cullen’s elbow as she turns to him. “I may not agree with the decision, but I support it. The sole point of the Herald’s mission was to gain the mages’ aid, and that was accomplished.”

“The voice of pragmatism speaks,” the Tevinter Pavus interrupts, appearing in his sudden, loud manner. “And here I was just starting to enjoy the circular arguments.”

Cullen can’t help how his eyes roll in response, in part because his anger still simmered beneath the surface. Fresh and hot and vibrant, even as he reels from the Herald’s voice in his head.

Cassandra turns, slowly to face the mage, voice bordering on that same frustration and anger as Cullen at the interruption. “Closing the Breach is all that matters.”

The quiet agreement from the Herald settles in all of them. “I got a taste of the consequences if we fail. Let’s make sure we don’t.”

Solemn. Haunted. That is the Herald Verdanna’s response. Cullen finds himself turning to her. Not even Cassandra’s confidence seems to sway her, and he sees the way that her eyes drop as Leliana takes over.

“We should look into the things you saw in this ‘dark future,’” the spymaster urges. “The assassination of Empress Celene? A demon army?”

Pavus sounds as unbothered as ever, even joking. But it seems to bring a smile to the Herald’s lips, something that Cullen feels a hit of something about. Something he doesn’t have time to process. Not fully, but Leliana’s words from last time settle in his head as the Tevinter speaks. “Sounds like something a Tevinter cult might do. Orlais falls, the Imperium rises. Chaos for everyone.”

Already Cullen sees the way Pavus is wooing her, and it makes jaw ache with tightness. It comes out in his response. Eager to please, reaching out to her, desperate to pull her back to the side of the Inquisition, not the Imperium. “One battle at a time. It’s going to take time to organize our troops and the mage recruits. Let’s take this to the War Room. Join us. None of this means anything without your mark, after all.”

But when she jokes, it’s not toward him. She smiles at Pavus, instead, and it feels quite like getting slapped. “And I hoped to sit out the assault on the Breach. Take a nap. Maybe go for a walk.”

“What is it they say? ‘No rest for the wicked’?” Cullen attempts again. He can’t help the way he tries, perhaps his smirk too wide with it.

Fortunately, it’s the right thing to say, judging by the way her lip curls up for a moment. Unfortunately, it’s fleeting, and once again Pavus interrupts, unwelcome. “I’ll skip the war council. But I would like to see this Breach up close, if you don’t mind.”

No matter what his joke got, Dorian’s words get an even bigger smile from Verdanna. “Then you’re… staying.”

“Oh, didn’t I mention? The South is so charming and rustic. I adore it to little pieces.”

She grins at that, warm. Heartfelt. Cullen wonders what happened in the future, what’s happening now. “There’s no one I’d rather be stranded in time with, future or present.”

Pavus matches her enthusiasm. “Excellent choice. But let’s not get stranded again anytime soon.”

Their back and forth sets the commander’s teeth on edge, and Cullen has to interrupt at some point, to preserve himself. But it earns him a look from the Herald as he does. “I’ll begin preparations to march on the summit. Maker willing, the mages will be enough to grant us victory.”

“I’ll assist,” Cassandra says.

“At least there’s progress,” Leliana offers, turning to the War Room, but when she looks at Verdanna, her eyes are not met. “Herald?”

There’s a pause. “Before we meet, I think I will take that walk. In a moment, Ambassador. Lady Leliana. Commander.”

“Meet us there when you’re ready,” Josephine says with understanding, and then the Herald is gone into the dusk.

The day ends and the next begins, and Cullen finds himself anxious. He supposes that he should expect days of preparation before an attempt at the Breach, but the way her eyes regarded him at their last meeting - his stomach churns with the implications.

Never mind the fact that when he did see her yesterday, it was with Pavus at her side. Joking together, if her laughter was to be believed. Avoiding Cullen’s own gaze as they walked from fire to fire, the Thedas natives avoiding the Dalish Mage and her Tevinter like the plague.

But this is the next day, and Cullen has not seen the Herald once. He finds himself walking throughout the makeshift stronghold to soothe his mind, but as he approaches the bridges with the remnants of that first battle, he finds himself looking at Verdanna.

Her eyes gaze out over the frozen lake, hair braided back to keep it from whipping in her face with the cold. Her clothes seem too thin for the weather, but he sees the fur lining just peek out over the top of her collar as he approaches.

The sun sets. Even more chill ready to settle in their bones. And yet he finds himself no longer moving, stopping at the sight of her profile.

“Commander,” she eventually calls out to him, when the tension between them grows too thick. “I suppose you found me.”

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” he tells her, taking a step back. “If it’s better for me to go--”

“No.” Her voice is a command, and he stops from turning toward Haven once more. “Stay. It’s all right. The view isn’t mine to hoard. I was just… thinking.”

He doesn’t take another step back, instead going back to neutral. Taking a step towards her seems too daring, but he does manage one toward the stone railing, leaning against it as he does, hand at his side. “There has been… a lot to think about.”

Her chuckle is dull. “Oh, Commander. You have no idea.”

There’s a new look in her eyes. As if already she has seen too much. It doesn’t take too many leaps in logic to realize what’s haunting her, especially as she fiddles with the amulet around her neck. Another pendant in her thoughts.

A few minutes pass. Silent between them. Eventually, his guilt from the day prior overwhelms him, and he stands up straight to bow his head to her. “Herald, I sincerely apologize if what I said at our last meeting offended you. Even though I left the Templars, I still - I still remember every moment of my time with them. If my disagreement upset you --”

“I appreciate you saying what you mean, Commander,” she tells him. “And I don’t mind opinions. But don’t you think that explaining the dangers of magic to a mage seems a bit… unnecessary?”

He finds himself lifting his chin. Defensive as he steps closer to where she stands against the rail. “No offense, Herald, but I believe you just came from a situation where a mage didn’t fully reckon with the dangers of his magic.”

“You know what I mean,” Verdanna snaps. Her tone is sharp, but not nearly as biting as he’s sure it could be. The exhaustion seems to undercut it. “The elves have had magic for a long time. We know how to handle it.”

“You know how to handle it,” he counters.

“I meant ‘we,’” she growls out. Pushing off of the stone wall she was leaning against. “My clan has managed it just fine for as long as I’ve been around.”

He sighs, moving to take another step towards her. “And your clan has been around for longer than you’ve been around, Lady Lavellan. But I don’t want to argue with you. Not when you’re obviously…” He pauses to find a gentle word, but finds himself spurred to speech by her glare. “Hurting. From your journey.”

Moments stretch again between them. A standoff. But instead of pushing past him, she simply sinks back against the gray stone, sighing and gazing out again over the frozen lake.

“It was… horrible, Cullen,” Verdanna finally whispers. Her head drops, and one hand lifts to cradle her face. Pushing at her brows, rubbing at her nose. “All of the people around me, withering away. Turning into red lyrium. Going mad. All because I abandoned them. I abandoned all of you.”

All of you. It echoes in his head. “Did you see me?” Cullen can’t help but ask it as he stares out over the rest of Haven with the Inquisitor. “In that future?”

“No… but it wasn’t hard to imagine what happened to the commander of the Inquisition’s forces.” Her voice is hollow, as she stares out over the tents and buildings below the Chantry. His gaze follows hers, but he doesn’t see what fascinates her about the horizon. A few heartbeats pass. “Why do you hate the mages so much?” she finally whispers, and Cullen’s gaze whips toward her.

The question catches him by surprise, though he considers that it shouldn’t. The way he’s acted - he finds himself only able to focus on the great doors to Haven. “I don’t hate the mages. I know it seems I do, but it’s not the mages themselves, but what magic can bring with it. I’ve seen too much destruction to turn a blind eye.”

She lets out a small hum. “So why am I different? You didn’t hesitate to lead the forces of the Inquisition. Behind a Dalish mage as your Herald.”

There are so many reasons, Cullen thinks, looking at her. The light of the sun meets the light of the Breach, the sickly green glow colliding with the warm orange light. It makes the markings on her forehead shine. Her eyes that disarming vibrant green. The Anchor. Andraste herself. The Rifts across the country, the inspiration she brings. So many reasons why Verdanna is different, and yet he finds himself fighting warmth in his face. “You’re in control,” he settles on, voice soft. “And I know what it looks like when someone… isn’t.”

Her laugh is hollow as she runs her hand along her staff. Her thin fingers send sparks along the grip, crackles of purple that makes the hairs on Cullen’s arm stand on end under his metal armor. “I suppose I understand that,” she hums. “But the future of a whole group of people can’t be dependent on how you’re feeling day-to-day, Commander. I need to know that you’ll treat these people with kindness… abominations or no.” But any and all frustration seems to wither in her throat, and she simply sighs. Rolls her jaw. “At any rate… these people are in our camp now, and I’m going to ensure they’re taken care of. I expect my advisors to want the same.”

“I would expect no less of you,” Cullen responds, turning to face her. And when her eyes meet his in mild surprise, he can’t help the way his face flushes. “Or the Inquisition. You’ve started this journey by showing a lot of kindness to all you meet. That won’t be lost on the mages, or the rest of our forces. You show a grace that many don’t possess, including myself, and that’s -- you’re…”

There’s a pause. A small pause, but heavy. Awkward, now, thanks to Cullen’s ever so quick tongue. He tries to rectify it, but the words come out stuttering. “I’m - ahem. Blast, I’m sorry, Your Worship. For what I said before and… the mess I’m making of things now.”

She can barely look at him as she stands straight once more, but speaks anyway, interrupting. “Don’t be… I appreciate the words. I just - I saw what happens if we fail, Cullen. Who I lose. And in that future, mage or apostate, Templar or bandit, it doesn’t matter. It all crumbles before this… ‘Elder One’.”

He follows her lead. Lifts up from the stone. But instead of pulling away, letting her walk towards the Chantry alone, he finds himself reaching for her hand. Catching it. The one the mark rests in.

“I - I meant what I said in there,” he tells her. Watches as those brilliant green eyes lift to meet his. But his grip doesn’t falter with her gaze, and he makes sure she’s listening. “None of this matters without your mark. Without you. There’s more than one reason you’re in the War Room with us, Verdanna. You are more than your mark.”

There it is. Her little smile. The curl of her lips, the scar on them that almost, if he goes a little mad with it, matches his own. He wonders how she got it. Wonders how many more she has, how many more she’ll get on this journey.

But for now, he gets her smile, which slowly grows to a grin. The squeeze of her fingers, the warmth of her hand and the mark.

“Thank you, Cullen.” Her hand drops from his (too soon, his traitorous mind shouts), but he savors the memory of warmth while he can. And before she turns to walk away, she chuckles. “More than one reason.”

His brows furrow. “What?”

“Well, you said there’s a reason I’m in the room where it all happens,” she offers, grin teasing now. “I figured it was just because of my pretty face, but with the Mark and my presence --”

Cullen’s eyes widen, and his mouth falls open. “I - I did say -- but I didn’t mean to imply --”

That earns him a laugh. Low and warm, the same warmth of the Anchor, of her hand in his. The same warmth that seems to settle low in his belly as he looks at her face holding such joy. “I was hoping you implied, Commander.” And with a wink, she turns away, and he feels the color of his face surge as he watches her stroll towards the chantry. “See you back in the War Room, yes?”

At first he is simply left behind. He watches as she waves her hand, and she is suddenly pushed across the bridge toward the edge, all that closer to Haven. Another blink, and she is gone. He, however, stands on the bridge toward the Breach, with his mouth a little agape.

The chantry. Oh, Maker. He’ll have to sprint to make it…

With another few curses under his breath, he begins the hike.

Back in the War Room, indeed.

-

He stands with the other advisors, all of their gazes turned towards one mark on the table. One mark. One focus. The Breach.

“It’s time,” Cassandra says, looking amongst them. Looking lastly at the Herald. She stands next to her, close, eyes narrowed as she leans forward to press her palms on the table. “Are you prepared?”

“Our army is strong. Sound,” Verdanna murmurs. She seems to squint at the Breach, and Cullen watches as she clenches and unclenches her hand. He wonders if it aches. “I just wonder -”

Leliana lifts her hand. “The scouts have already searched ahead. What they see is reassuring, and the Breach awaits your arrival. Closing it now is the right way to go.”

“The best of the mages are ready, Herald. The best of our soldiers are ready. But you must be sure you’re ready for the assault on the Breach,” Cullen says to her, tilting his head as she looks up at him. He clears his throat for a moment, gesturing toward the map once more. “We cannot know how you’ll be affected.”

At last, Verdanna nods. Something seems to be hidden in her eyes, something Cullen wants to squint at himself. But when she stands, her shoulders pull back, and she steps back to twirl her staff, once, then twice. “All right. I’ll get Dorian, and the Bull. We’ll go before the sun sets… arrive when it’s dark.”

Everyone nods. Cassandra gestures to the door, and Verdanna looks up at her. There’s a silent moment, and then the Herald shakes her head.

“In a moment, Cassandra. I’ll come gather you all when we’re about to leave.”

She nods. Cullen blinks, and the two of them are alone, the War Room deathly quiet.

He takes a step around the table. Starts to move toward the door himself while she looks at the map. He figures it’s another moment where she prefers to be alone, a moment where she should tackle it herself. There’s drills to run, things to prepare on his end. After a moment, though, he hears her clear her throat, turns and sees her looking at him with that same narrowed, pinched gaze.

And then he realizes.

She’s nervous.

He pauses, at the door. Still reaches for where he can push. “If you want, Verdanna, I can give you some time. The Inquisition can. We don’t need to go today. We can… wait.”

“Would you wait?” she asks, standing up straight, crossing her arms over her chest. When he pauses again, she smirks. “That’s a no.”

“I think the sooner we close the Breach, the better. However we can,” he tells her. “With whoever we can.”

That earns him a little smile. It makes his heart stop, with how bright it suddenly is. She laughs a little too, and he realizes a bit too late that it makes him stand straighter. “You mean me,” she responds.

“I certainly don’t mean anyone else.”

“I’ll tell Cassandra. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled about being discredited so easily,” she teases him, and he feels his cheeks go pink. It seems to always happen with her. She laughs, and he laughs, and for a moment her pinched brows relax. She looks at ease when she does that, and the freckles from her sunned features suddenly stand out on her tanned skin. But as soon as it disappears, it comes back, and he suddenly has the urge to lift a hand, push her brows back with his thumb -

“Cullen?” she says. He realizes Verdanna’s been asking him something, and he finds his cheeks once more flushing. Always around her. Why is it always around her? “Is everything all right?”

“I apologize, Herald,” he says back. Blinks a couple of times to look at her more clearly. “What were you saying?”

“I was asking if you think we’re ready.” He has a feeling the “we” is hypothetical, as it probably was the first time she asked him.

“I do,” he tells her, firmly. Moves closer to stand next to her. “I think you’re more than ready. I think now is the time, and with you there, we have as great a chance as we’ll ever have.”

“I said we,” she tells him, a little quirk of her lips.

He reaches to squeeze her anchor as it’s flat on the table. The briefest of touches. “I know. But I said you, Herald, and I mean it.”

She lifts up fully. Faces him. It feels the closest they’ve ever stood, especially with her discerning eyes. They seem to rake him over the coals, seem to burn him with how deep they look into his heart, and just like that, the feeling is gone. He wonders if he’s been bewitched, knows the answer to that question even as he asks it. Perhaps she is bewitching… but it’s just because she’s Verdanna. “I’ll have you behind me, won’t I, Commander?” she finally asks.

“Always,” he responds immediately. He doesn’t know why that of all things seems to ease her, but… then again, maybe he does.

“Then,” she murmurs, turning to the War Room door with ease, chin lifting as her hand brushes her braid back behind her ear, “what are we waiting for? To arms, Cullen.”

“To arms, Herald,” he whispers, and just like that, she is gone again, in the blink of an eye.

-

There is joy, there is laughter. There is dancing, and singing and everything that can be praised about Verdanna is. There is hyperbole, and teasing, and suddenly everyone seems to be smiling. Even Cassandra has something akin to a smirk on her face, one that Varric does not hesitate to point out.

At Haven, the delight only grows, as those who were there fill in those who were not. The tavern is full of those taking a drink or two or many, many more, and Cullen walks through them with a lightness in his chest he hasn’t felt since this all started. But with every step, there’s one face he seeks, one he doesn’t find, not in the chaos of the hold.

He hopes she is celebrating. Thinks that she deserves it, along with the best rest she can get. If he finds her, he plans to convince her of that. But there’s a sadness in him, a selfish one. One that wonders if after this, Verdanna will need his counsel at all. Wonders if she’ll want it, or if those… feelings he’s been harboring for too long will simply need the universal remedy of time.

And then the horns blow. The bells ring. Any other thoughts vanish as he whips his head around to the sources. Some yelling from beyond the walls. A scout rushes to him.

“Ser, there’s an enemy force approachin’!” she yells over the noise. “It’s coming right for us! More than our numbers, and with monsters in their midst, and no banners to report!”

“No banners?” he asks her, eyes wide. “Are you sure?”

“I triple asked, Commander.” Her voice is slightly panicked, and he swallows.

“All right. Report to Leliana, go!” With a turn towards those below, he gestures toward the trebuchets. “To arms!” he yells out to his men. “To arms, brethren, prepare yourselves!”

“Cullen?” he hears behind him, whips his head around. It’s Verdanna, and he knows the rest he hopes for her won’t come just yet.

“One watchguard reporting,” he says quickly, turning to her and then Cassandra. “It’s a massive force, the bulk over the mountain.”

“Under what banner?” Josephine asks, but Cullen just shakes his head.

“None.”

Suddenly the door is slammed upon. Cullen draws his sword, but the panicked voice behind it insists it won’t come in. He wants to reach out to stop Verdanna, but she moves forward to open it just as he steps out to stop her.

It’s a massacre outside, a dozen bodies dead in front of the gates. All with armor Cullen recognizes, as if he sees it through a fog. So familiar, and yet…

“I’m Cole, and I came to warn you,” a voice says. Cullen blinks, and before him and Verdanna a young man stands. His hat covers his eyes, and Cullen lifts his sword as he approaches the Herald. “To help. People are coming to hurt you. You probably already know.”

“What is this?” Verdanna asks, lifting her hand to stop Cullen. “What’s going on?”

“The templars come to kill you” is the only answer. A sudden rage fills the commander, indignation as he looks to Verdanna with bewilderment. The armor is seen more clearly now, a defiled Templar’s garb.

“Templars? Is this the Order’s response to our talks with the mages? Attacking blindly?” he shouts, and the Herald shakes her head in shock.

“I don’t -”

The man called Cole simply shakes his head, and Cullen sees eyes paler than moonlight peek out at him. “The Red Templars went to the Elder One.” He whirls to Verdanna, who takes a step back. “You know him? He knows you. You took his mages.”

“His mages?” Her voice seems to shake with something like frustration, but Cole shakes his head again and points up and out.

“There.”

Suddenly fog at the top lifts. Cullen squints to the peak of a ridge, and sees a man he knows all too well. It makes his stomach churn for a moment, eyes that seem so hollow, and behind him, the fog collects to form… someone… something.

“I know that man,” Cullen tells them both, voice soft. “But this Elder One -”

“He’s very angry that you took his mages,” Cole warns.

The forces are clear now. Cullen sees what the scout saw, thousands of soldiers marching towards them in formation. No banners to be seen, simply red detailing that glows with an unholy light. One that makes his blood chill in his veins.

Verdanna’s voice brings his gaze back to the two in front of him. “Cullen! Give me a plan to help the people of Haven! Anything you have!”

He looks out toward the forces again, and feels his jaw click as he rolls it. “Haven - it’s no fortress. If we are to withstand this monster - him - then we must control the battle. Use the trebuchets, hit that force with everything you absolutely can.”

She nods. Her gaze sharpens, and he hears the sound of people running up behind him. Soldiers, mages, the team around Verdanna as she stands at the ready.

“Mages!” he calls out, no hesitation as he looks toward the forces below. “Protect the people! You have sanction to engage them! That man will not make it easy, but this is for your lives!”

There’s shouting. There’s yelling. Cullen wields his sword again, and points it forward. “Inquisition! With the Herald! For your lives, for all of us! To arms! Attack!”

But it’s not enough. Cullen watches the trebuchets rocket off their loads, watches an avalanche swarm the soldiers below. But from above, there’s a new fight, a damned dragon circling their heads and blowing its breath at their forces.

In the end, they slam the gates closed, and Cullen begins leading people away from the entryway. “We need everyone back to the Chantry. It’s the only building that will hold against that beast. At this point just make them work for it.”

“I’m going to clear the camp!” Verdanna calls to him, and when he whirls to face her, his eyes are wide.

“Herald -”

But there’s no fear in her eyes. Only resolution. “Keep leading the others, I’m going to clear the camp,” she states again, voice firm. Dorian nods behind her, along with the Bull and Cassandra. A sudden flash of light comes from her staff and surrounds the party she brings with her. “Go, Cullen! While there’s still time!”

“Be safe,” he says immediately, but her nod does not reassure him.

“Go, commander.”

There’s moments that pass him by next. Dragging a soldier through the doors with his screams of pain in his ear. The sound of swords hitting against his own. Whimpers from people in the depths of the stone walls, echoing around. It’s only when Cullen breaks out of it to the first floor, to see Verdanna once more through the doors, that time seems to slow.

“Herald!” he calls out, rushing towards her. He scans her body, sees no injuries, and manages a breath of relief for that small mercy. “Our position is not good. That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us.”

“I’ve seen an Archdemon. I was in the Fade, but it looked like that,” the strange boy says, eyes up at Cullen and Verdanna.

Cullen feels frustration overwhelm him once again. “I don’t care what it looks like,” he snaps. “It has cut a path for that damned army. They’ll kill everyone in Haven.”

But once again the boy speaks, and the commander turns to him with a glare. His words are anything but quaint - these strike fear at the heart of him. “The Elder One doesn’t care about the village. He only wants the Herald.”

“If you know why he wants me, just say it!” Verdanna tells him, eyes narrowed. But the boy simply turns to Roderick, who gazes at them with pained eyes.

“I don’t. He’s too loud. It hurts to hear him. He wants to kill you. No one else matters. But he’ll crush them, kill them anyway. I don’t… like him.”

It’s bizarre, and disorienting. “You don’t like-?!” It makes Cullen’s hands clench in fury as he looks at him before turning back to the Herald. The truth is plain in only his face, and he feels his throat close up with it. “Verdanna… there are no tactics to make this survivable. The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche. We could turn the remaining trebuchets, cause one last slide -”

Verdanna just stares at him. He sees the dots connect in her head as well, watches as she takes a brief shuddering breath. “Cullen. We’re overrun. To hit this enemy, we’d bury Haven.”

“I know.” His hands reach for hers. Hold them tightly in his grip. “But we’re dying. We can decide, here and now, how we fall. Many don’t get that choice.”

She just stares at him. Not breaking eye contact. There’s something there, something that travels through the both of them as he grips her fingers. He opens his mouth, to say anything else, but she just shakes her head, and in that moment he knows she feels it, too.

“Commander -”

Then, the faintest sound from the boy cuts through their thoughts, as if it’s meant to. He turns to face the back of the Chantry, then to face the chancellor again. “Yes, that. Chancellor Roderick can help. He wants to say it before he dies.”

Their eyes turn to face the man. He stares up at both of them, eyes distant even as he looks at their faces. “There… is a path… You wouldn’t know it unless you’d made - made the summer pilgrimage. As I have. The people can escape. She must have shown me - Andraste must have shown me so I could... tell you.”

“What are you on about, Roderick?” she asks him. Their hands are still gripping each other by their fingers, clinging for the moment to what they can.

“It was whim that I walked the path… I did not mean to start - it was overgrown. Now with so many in the Conclave dead, to be the only one who remembers… Herald...”

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen whispers. Verdanna adjusts to face him again, eyes wide.

“If this simple memory can save us, this could be more than mere accident,” Roderick finally gasps out. His eyes open once more, now seeing, it seems, the woman before him. Cullen’s eyes widen, as Verdanna’s fingers squeeze in shock, one hand dropping from his, as Roderick stares with something beyond his hatred. “You could be more.”

“Cullen,” she murmurs. Turns to him, her commander. “What about it? Could it - will it work?”

“Possibly, if he - if he shows us the path.” But then a new thought takes hold, and he pulls her closer, voice softening. “What of your escape?”

In horror, he watches as she does not answer.

Her fingers drop from his. He takes a step towards her as she looks at the doors to the Chantry. “Perhaps you will surprise it, find a way…” he murmurs. But she does not face him again.

“Inquisition. Commander. Follow Chancellor Roderick through the chantry,” she calls to those behind her. And at Cullen’s reluctant nod, they answer, moving with haste.

“I could go with you,” he says faintly, but her head shakes.

“No. No, you couldn’t.”

He doesn’t hear what Roderick says to the Herald, barely sees him as he watches her movements. Dorian, the Bull, and Cassandra step forward once more, and Cullen realizes with horror what waits for them as well. What waits for all of them.

There’s not much he can do. He orders a few men, but they’re more than willing to go with her as well. It’s something, to watch their devotion, something that both stirs his heart and makes his stomach turn with the knowledge that they will not be returning to his command. Will not be returning at all.

And her… the Lady Lavellan, the woman of the Inquisition. She looks at him one last time, nods in thanks for the men.

“They’ll load the trebuchets. Keep the Elder One’s attention until we’re above the tree line,” he tells her.

“How will I know?” she asks, and he nods toward where the chancellor and the others are going.

“We’ll send a signal up. Towards the sky.”

But when he looks back, she is gone. The doors to the chantry are open, and she stands silhouetted in reddened moonlight. There is a rush of clouds above her head, and he watches her and Dorian lift their staffs to the sky, a storm brewing between the both of them.

“Let that thing hear you, Verdanna,” he insists, as she takes her step forward. When she looks back, he has to blink. Her eyes seem to shine. “If we are to have a chance, if you are, you have to let the Archdemon hear you.”

But it seems only he knows what he truly asks her. Because as she leaves his final request goes unspoken. Let me hear you. At least one last time.

The doors close with a final thud, one that shakes the place. Cullen turns to see his men, before pointing towards the path that Roderick has begun to carve out for them. “Go!” he shouts, and they sprint away.

He manages one last look toward the doors. A last ditch effort to see her turn back. But he knows even as he does that she would never do such a thing… and knows himself enough to know that he would never disobey her orders.

-

The wind howls. And with it, a voice. It’s so faint it seems to be beyond their reach, but the breeze carries it to eager ears.

“... Leliana…”

Cullen stops. There are footsteps that crunch in the snow, alongside his own, but he lifts a hand.

“... Pavus. Pavus, do you hear that?”

Others stop, too. The wind continues to roar.

“What, Commander?” Pavus asks Cullen. “What is it?”

Again. And again. Cullen lifts his hand higher. “Quiet! Everyone!”

“Josephine… Solas… p-please…”

“That. In the wind. Is that a… a voice, Cassandra?” he asks, but the faces around him simply stare.

“Commander,” Cassandra whispers. The chill sinks into their bones bit by bit.

“D-Duh-Dorian… the Iron B-Bull… B-Buh-Blackwall…”

“There! That! Do you hear it? Coming from the pass!” His eyes whip around wildly in the direction, and he swears if he squints, he sees the faintest glow from… from a familiar staff...

“C-Cullen… Cullen, please.” It’s so clear now, so clear that he’s sure it’s coming from above. And there, stumbling forward, singed and aching, clutching her arms to her chest -

“There, Cassandra! Look, it’s the Herald!”

“Thank Andraste… thank the Maker!” Cassandra stumbles forward for a second up, before looking towards the commander and turning back. “Go, Cullen -”

His feet carry him forward, and through the snow he stomps, strides as long as he can manage. There she is, there she is. “I’m going! Go back to the camp, get a healer! Maker preserve her, just a little while longer.”

It has to be the Maker. How else does he arrive at her side so fast? “Gods… Cullen… Cullen?” she asks, and he nods frantically before he can manage to speak.

“It’s me! It’s me, Herald, I’m here. Dorian, a potion, anything.” The mage lifts his hand, produces a flame, and the warmth seems to make her shiver harder as she squints at the sudden brightness.

“D-Dorian… Cullen? Can you hear me?” the Herald whispers. He hears her voice again, as clear as day, and one hand lifts to cup her face. A pinched brow, one he smooths aside with his thumb.

“I hear you, Verdanna,” he whispers back, and feels tears drip down his nose and into his furs as he gazes at her. In a sudden movement, he sweeps her ever closer, kisses her forehead at the center of her tattoos, and presses his nose to her skin. She is alive. She is alive and in his arms, and all he can do is thank the Maker above. “Thank the Maker, I’m here. I hear you.”

-

There’s no table to stand in front of, and so they gather in front of a haphazard tent, the wind from the hells whipping through camp. In fact, there is no War Room at all, their solace in Haven left buried beneath snow and rock and ice, the Inquisition as refugees among the northernmost wilderness.

Every night, Cullen’s dreams haunt him. But now, new scenes flash in his mind. Their foe, named and armed and ready, his army stretching across the lands. Row after row of corrupted soldiers, mind after mind turned toward Corypheus’s will.

The Herald’s eyes bright and vibrant - up until she is buried in snow.

He isn’t sure he’ll ever tell Verdanna what their escape looked like. How trudging through the cold was always lengthened a few hours more so he could bring a struggling few with him to search. He’ll certainly never say how finding her slumped in the cold was a prayer answered.

But now, there is no Herald either. She sleeps, as she should, to rest and recover, while the advisors begin the newest battle.

Arguments.

He can’t help the way his voice rings out, Josephine, Leliana, and Cassandra’s so-called advice making his frustration mount. “What would you have me tell them?” he says to them, hands lifted in question. “This isn’t what we asked them to do!”

Cassandra’s eyes flash in the fire, though Cullen suspects there is much more behind the look she throws his way. “We cannot simply ignore this,” she retorts, voice sharp. “We must find a way.”

“And who put you in charge?” he fires back. Certainly not the Herald, motionless in her tent. Recovering, as she needs. Because Cullen couldn’t - the Inquisition couldn’t - protect her. “Without a consensus we have nothing.”

Josephine’s pleading cuts through their voices, looking between the both of them. “Please, we must use reason. WIthout the infrastructure of the Inquisition, we’re hobbled!”

Like the ruin of Haven didn’t do that already. Cullen brushes her off. “That can’t come from nowhere!”

Leliana rises to Josephine’s defense, and Cullen can’t help his step back as Leliana pushes forward to meet his anger. “She didn’t say it could!”

But it’s Cassandra who silences them, voice tight. “Enough! This is getting us nowhere!”

Cullen’s scoff leaves his mouth without a second to lose. “Well. We’re agreed on that much.” He doesn’t wait to see the looks on their faces, simply ducks his head and curses to himself.

This is how it is without her, he can’t help but think. Four people, too stubborn in their own ways to see the way out. The commander pulls back from them, turns away, letting his furs shield him from the howl of the wind, the chill it brings him. Hours upon hours of fighting, bickering, biting... Nothing gets done. The world around them crumbles.

But her. When she stands with them… they see where they need to go. What needs to happen. Who needs to fall. Who shall stand with them against the powers of the breach.

When Verdanna speaks, the world listens.

Cullen listens.

He looks up at the unfamiliar sky. Pushes a hand through his hair. Is this what the Maker wants to reduce them to? Is this the future of the Inquisition? Infighting and arguing until they wear themselves out. His weariness is shared by Cassandra, huddled over her map, by Josephine and Leliana, leaning against each other in the cold.

And then… he hears it. Mother Giselle’s voice, low and clear and sweet.

Shadows fall, and hope has fled

Steel your heart, the dawn will come

If the camp could fall more still, it does. Eyes lift. Ears prick. Hearts open.

The night is long, and the path is dark

Look to the sky, for one day soon, the dawn will come.

Leliana’s voice is next. A sweet, high lilt, vulnerable to the world all at once. More bodies stand to rise, and soon, a guard beside Cullen himself is singing with the two women.

The shepherd’s lost, and his home is far

Keep to the stars, the dawn will come.

Voices lift and raise. The song ascends to the heavens. Soon Cullen’s voice joins in, but he can barely hear his own sound over the unison, unity of them all.

The night is long, and the path is dark

Look to the sky, for one day soon

The dawn will come

Templars. Mages. Soldiers. Spies. Orlais. Ferelden. All for one thing. All for one woman. The final verse comes as one begins to kneel, and another, and another.

Bare your blade, and raise it high

Stand your ground, the dawn will come

The night is long, and the path is dark

Look to the sky, for one day soon

The dawn will come

The dawn will come

The shift is not subtle. The eerie silence over the camp shatters, the laughter of the people echoing around him. Cullen sees smiles on faces, hands clasped together in reunion and joy.

It’s the wind that carries the words to him. Mother Giselle to the Herald.

“An army needs more than an enemy. It needs a cause.”

He lifts his eyes, and he sees Verdanna, her name more in his thoughts than her title, stand in the flickering light of the flame. Sees the crowd gather round her, look at her, kneel before her. And then, her eyes meet his. The truth washes over him like a rising tide, and he is powerless to it.

He is her blade. She is his cause. And if the dawn does come, and if the world they live in is reborn… it will be her doing.

He lifts his arm to her. Crosses it over his chest, bows his head. And when he lifts his gaze once more, her eyes pierce him to his core.

“An army needs a cause. An Inquisition is no different,” he tells Cassandra, as the dawn does indeed rise. “Our cause is hers, is it not? She is our Inquisitor.”

“Because of her decisions. What she has done,” the Seeker agrees. Voice low. “She leads.”

Cullen nods. Thinks to himself once more. Sees her face clear as day, even as she turns away to face the crowd, to walk among them.

Finds his mind wandering as much as his heart. As to what it means… to be her commander. Realizing that he’s hers… in more ways than one.

She is our Inquisitor. She leads. And I follow.

-

Verda -

No.

The Inquisitor calls them to the new war room in Skyhold.

In a formal setting it’s required. A new rule for himself after the lines seemed to blur. But he can’t seem to help it, even in the place where their plans are made. It took so long to bring it together, and still piles of bricks impede their journey to this new war room, but no ceremony seems to insist upon her title. Not when she smiles so brightly at the use of her name.

He made the same mistake in a letter to his sister. Her name so easily on his lips that putting it to paper was nothing. And Mia, quick on the take, caught it instantly. Any reassurance of his survival brushed aside in favor of his slip, curious about why he would toss aside formality for this… woman.

But the fact of the matter is he can’t help it. It’s just so easy to resort to the ease and friendliness, the way he wants to say her name and kiss his off of her lips as a greeting. The kissing is the newest part of the revelation, one that makes his collar tight every time he thinks it. Ever since finding her body in the mountains, watching her collapse into the snow, something has shifted between the two of them, and he can’t help the way he stands at full attention when the door to the war room opens.

“Inquisitor.” Cullen can’t help the way his voice sounds so upbeat, her presence immediately lifting his spirits. He does his best to pretend like it’s simply the inspiration of her valor, her courage, her spirit! “We were…”

Josephine’s retort is immediate. “Eagerly awaiting your presence. Some of us, more than others.”

His face can’t help the way it flushes a deep red. “I wasn’t - I mean, I was…” His sigh is, and he can’t help the way his eyes fall upon her. Glancing up from the statuettes on the table. “We have work to do.”

It’s almost a plea, and surely they all hear it. He can tell that the twitch of Leliana’s lips is a meager attempt to hide her delight at Josephine’s words.

“We sure do,” Verdanna teases, and he can’t help but avoid her gaze as she grins. “To work.”

The weight of the war table settles over them shortly after - unfortunately much lightheartedness gets pushed aside with the knowledge of red lyrium sources looming over them. But he can’t help the way that he lingers over the table, bends over to spread the map out flat at the corners as he hears Josephine and Leliana’s laughter echo down the hallway, as his focus shifts to the way that Verdanna stands with her arms across her chest.

“You’re quite cute when you blush, Commander,” she tells him, a little smile and tilt of her head. He ducks his head with the words.

“I try not to make a habit of it,” he returns, lifting one hand to rub it over the back of his neck. Her chuckle makes his chest warm. “Doesn’t exactly inspire courage and confidence.”

“A shame.” He sees her legs through the multitude of figurines, watches as she walks along the edge of the table until she stands beside him. Leans on the dark wood, her arm brushing his. “Were you? Eagerly awaiting my arrival, that is.”

“Of course,” he answers, and the ease of it surprises him. He looks up at her, green of her gaze hitting him alongside the sudden clarity. And her little laugh after he says it, bright and joyful, immediately puts a smile on his face. “I always… enjoy our time together. Fleeting though it may be.”

He can’t help but wonder if it’s a blush on her cheeks, that travels up to the tips of her ears. But no matter what it is, she radiates warmth and it’s because of him.

“I do, too, Commander,” Verdanna replies, and for a moment he settles into the touch at his side, smiles and bites his lower lip before glancing toward the door once more.

She seems nervous. It’s strange, because ever since Haven’s demise her steps have been so assured. And yet she fidgets before him, fingers fiddling with her belt.

“Verdanna,” he says, but she’s quick to interrupt.

“I never thanked you, Commander,” she says in a rush, and he blinks at the sudden ferocity. “I mean - I realized that, this morning, as I assessed what we managed to save from Haven.”

He blinks again, taken aback. “For what, my lady?”

Once again her inability to meet his eyes startles him. There’s no more stammering, but she still seems nervous. “For saving me. At the pass. At Haven. You… heard me. Somehow, at least, that’s what Dorian said.”

That makes his cheeks blush. Pavus was there, when they found the Inquisitor in the snow. He realizes then, that the magister saw the whole display, and his cheeks are matching hers in their… pinkness. “Ah.”

“Yes. Ah.”

“It was -” he starts, but there’s so much to say and he doesn’t know how to say it. How to even speak, in that moment. It was nothing, but at the same time… wasn’t it everything? After a moment to clear his throat, he starts again. “I told you that I’d be there for you,” he eventually gets out. “Behind you, always. That didn’t stop after the Breach closed. And it… it won’t ever stop, if I have anything to say about it.”

She looks up at him, then, green eyes so wide they remind him of the dinner plates that Josephine lays out for the visiting dignitaries. She seems shocked by what he says, but he means every word. More than perhaps any other vow he’s spoken. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t thank you. You all saved my life, Cullen. You did.”

He remembers how tightly they clung to each other before she went to face the person they now know as Corypheus, remembers how their fingers intertwined as the world around them seemed to shatter. Now, with the world holding together, at least for a moment he craves that touch once more.

So he takes the leap. Reaches forward, to grab her fingers, and as he does she immediately responds. Grips his hand, squeezes it tight, and he feels what he felt before. An understanding. A knowledge.

Dammit, he feels her.

“I’d do it all again,” he murmurs. “In a heartbeat. And if I were in your place -”

“I’d do the same,” she whispers, and his eyes widen like hers did before.

Suddenly she smiles. Drops his hand, but keeps the touch lingering. “Don’t look so surprised, Cullen,” she says. “Do you really doubt my willingness?”

“Not at all,” he insists, horrified. But then she starts laughing, and he realizes that her tone is teasing. He blushes, lifts a hand to scratch at his neck, and ducks his gaze. “We must - I-I mean, I must be going. There are… things to attend to.”

“Of course,” she says. “But… we’ll see each other again.”

“Whenever you would like.”

She chuckles again, low and warm. It makes the hairs on his arms raise at the rush it gives him. “I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you later today, Commander. If you’ll let me.”

And in that moment, there’s not a single reason on his mind for him to ever say no to something like that.

“My time is yours, Lady Inquisitor. And whenever you need me… I’m yours, too.”

-

Skyhold offers more than just a new place to lay Cullen’s head. It offers a new beginning.

Seeing Verdanna later means more than just another passing chess game. Means more than glances across the courtyard, or banter in the war room. It means her coming to his quarters with a purpose, and finally a damned kiss on the battlements. It means stolen moments once the doors close, finally kissing those smirks off of her face, lingering doubt being pushed aside in favor of lingering touches.

But even as the Inquisition grows with every passing day, the truth of the matter is that Skyhold, and its relative safety, still has a threat that looms. Cullen sees the way that Redcliffe haunts her, moments of peace interrupted by a sudden grip on a bannister, a fierce conversation around the roundtable. She reminds them all what looms, the overwhelming threat of an empire crumbling to pieces, and soon (too soon, too damned soon), they’re once again in the war room.

“We’re all in agreement, Inquisitor. We have to reach the empress before Corypheus. The only question is: how?” Cullen tells Verdanna as she struts in, hand gripping her staff.

Josephine glances toward Cullen. “We know how. I have our way in. The real question is: where is our enemy hiding?” The commander doesn’t miss the fond look that Leliana gives the ambassador, pride clear on her features. He also doesn’t miss the confidence that seems to fill Josephine. This is her element. “At the urging of Grand Duchess Florianne, the Empress is holding a ball. Absolutely everyone will be there. During the festivities, Celene will be meeting for peace talks with the usurper Duke Gaspard and the Ambassador Briala.”

“The assassin must be hiding within one of these factions,” Leliana tells them all, and the wheels start turning.

They discuss all the players. Gaspard. Briala. Celene herself. Ideas and conspiracies whirling around them, the reality settling on top of them all like a cloud.

“What better place for an assassin to hide than the empress’s own household?” Leliana finally sighs out, her brow pinched.

Too many people to name float into the picture. The elves with Briala, the soldiers with Gaspard, and the throne all for Celene. Cullen watches as Verdanna lets out a sigh of exasperation, unable to help leaning forward as she rubs at her own forehead.

“Do we need to go to the peace talks? The empress must have a personal guard. We could just warn her that she’s in danger.”

“We’ve made the attempt, but…” Josephine’s eyes dart to Leliana, who scowls.

“It seems that our messages never reached her. Someone intercepted them,” the spymaster admits, and Verdanna gives a short nod. The disappointment isn’t lost - usually Leliana can do the next to impossible.

Cullen speaks up, to remind, reassure. He leans forward on the table again, meeting Verdanna’s eyes with his own. “It is better that we don’t leave this to chance. If Orlais falls to Corypheus, nowhere is safe.”

There’s a beat, and then a small sigh. “We shouldn’t waste any time, then,” Verdanna mutters. “Let’s go to the Winter Palace.”

And with that it’s decided. But Cullen watches the choice do little to ease the Inquisitor’s worry. Josephine and Leliana help her figure out some of the logistics, who to bring, who to leave home (“my lady, if you must insist on Sera, we can figure out… other arrangements for her”), and some early lessons on what to expect at the grand Winter Palace. Figurines are moved around, messages written out for the allies who will be in attendance. There's a plan to follow, though, and then the whirlwind of activity leaves behind an exhausted Inquisitor and fresh worry lines on Cullen’s features.

“You don’t seem reassured by their crash course,” he tells her, as Josephine and Leliana leave the space that he is quick to fill beside her. “Not eager to mingle with the nobility?”

“I don’t think the nobility is particularly eager to mingle with me,” Verdanna counters, sighing as she pushes away from the table and moves to the back of the room. Her eyes gaze out the tall windows. “But, to answer the question, not in the slightest.”

Their privacy allows him to take the opportunity to comfort. Wrapping an arm around her waist already feels like second nature, and he leans in to kiss her cheek, chaste. “Well, we’re on the same page on that point. I don’t think I have a jacket that fits well enough for an Orlesian party.”

Her hum seems to echo in the empty room, and her lips twitch upward. But it falters, and Cullen can’t help his little frown as she turns from him. “You’re telling me. I don’t think anything I wear would gain me any sort of approval given the natural accessories.”

At first, Cullen considers her tattoos. The deep red coloring is warm against the cool brightness of her eyes. He finds himself reaching for them without thinking, tracing her forehead. But when she shakes her head, the self-flagellation clicks, and his fingers drop.

“Your ears,” he murmurs. Heart shattering at her worn look towards him.

“Among other things. Josephine was very clear,” Verdanna tells him. “I’m already starting off on the wrong foot because of my heritage. Being Dalish, an elf, and a mage simply ensures that I’m going to be clawing my way upward in their eyes.” Her laugh is hollow. “Even as the Inquisitor I’m going to get called knife-ear. Potentially to my face.”

A sudden surge of anger fills Cullen at that prospect. Feels himself scowling at the thought. “Oh, no. They’ll simply whisper it. And wish they hadn’t,” he mutters. Her laughter dissipates it quickly, however, especially as her hand lifts to settle on his arm.

“Down, boy. No need to defend anyone’s honor and spark a whole new war. I’ll be fine.”

“Yes, but I wish you didn’t have to be.” He turns to face her completely, suddenly hit with the danger. “There will be assassins. Enemies on all sides, posing as friends. And there’s nothing we can do but run towards the danger and hope.”

Her gaze softens a bit. “I know it feels counterintuitive. But we’re doing the right thing. And you will be there, Commander, along with other friends.” After a moment of letting him mull over that good news, she seems to not be able to help a smile.

“What is it?” Cullen asks, voice pitched low. A bit of concern still seeps through, unable to be helped, but that quickly fades at her fingers gently tug on his furs.

“Well, there is a plus side to all of this,” she finally says, turning back to the window and leaning against his shoulder, watching the sun crawl between clouds.

“And what is that?”

“I do think that I’ll enjoy seeing what formal wear Josephine can scrounge up for you. Perhaps something with… strong shoulders.”

Cullen’s eyes narrow, but there’s something playful in his tone. Playful. In the war room. Who is he becoming? “Oh, don’t think for a moment you’re getting out of anything. Our dear ambassador wants us to match.”

Her laugh echoes, and he feels her fingers scratch at the back of his neck. It makes him shiver. “Just us two? Isn’t that a little on the nose?”

“And fuel for egregious gossip,” Cullen confirms, but his voice goes a little… strained. “Not to worry, though. The whole landing party will be fitted in the finest Antivan tailoring. A proper uniform.”

There’s a sudden moment, when he’s very aware of how close she really is. How her breath is now hot on his ear, and her lips barely brush the edge of his cheek. “Well, I’ll be delighted to see you in a proper uniform, Commander.”

And just like that, she turns away from him. He whips to face her, but her fingers are waving in a cheerful goodbye, a look over her shoulder simply dastardly.

“See you in Halamshiral!” she sings, and then with a flourish of her hand, the door opens and closes behind her.

When he can breathe again, his next stop is his quarters.

-

The teasing does not unfortunately come out of nowhere. Cullen has seen the just short of gleeful looks Leliana has shot him as he passes her in the stronghold, the whispers of his impression on Halamshiral from visiting nobles with Josephine. It makes his jaw clench every time it’s mentioned, especially when he found so many creative ways to refuse the guests at the Winter Palace, out of worry for Verdanna and utter disdain for their company.

So when Josephine mentions it in passing during a Council meeting, their heads bent over a map as they decide how to allocate the resources of the Inquisition, Cullen automatically scowls.

“I have requests for information on your lineage from a few interested parties at the Winter Palace.” He can hear the shuffle of papers, and it seems to hit a particularly sharp point in his head. A headache brews.

“Andraste preserve me,” he scoffs, shaking his head. He doesn’t bother looking up from moving his pieces to a spot in the center of Orlais. “Feel free to use those requests as kindling.”

Leliana’s response is swift. “No! I shall take them. I want to know who pines for our commander. We can use this to our advantage.”

That gets his full attention, feels even more disdain settle in his soul. He stands up fully, looking up to see Leliana’s grin. She reaches for Josephine’s hand while moving to her side, leaning over her shoulder to read the list of names.“I am not bait!” he says to her. .

“Oh, hush.” Leliana’s hand waves him off, immediately reaching for the… not inconsequential stack of requests in Josephine’s hand. “Just look pretty, Commander. Now, where can we send a few regiments to sway our hand?”

The ambassador doesn’t hesitate. “The Marquis of Mont de Glace both took a liking to him -- perhaps another trip to the surrounding settlements to pique interest?”

“And three nobility from Ghislain alone.”

“I did hear tale the Templar connection of our commander struck up some noise at Arlesans,” Josephine adds, and her pitch has soared upward, excitement clear as she holds her pen to her chest, pushes up on her toes.

“Hold on just a moment --” Cullen starts, but the two of them are on a roll.

“And here, the protecteur of Val Royeaux showed interest in… trading strategy?” Josephine reads out, voice pitching upward as she finishes the line. Dawning slowly appears, however, and Cullen finds himself blushing deeply. “Oh. Well. Perhaps that one can indeed go in the kindling.

“I really don’t think --”

“Perhaps the strategy is not just answering one, but answering them all,” Leliana teases. It makes Josephine giggle. Their laughter echoes in the big empty room. High and bright. Cullen’s fingers lift to pinch the bridge of his nose. “A tournament for the honor of the commander, to see who in the end wins his hand --”

“I think we’re done here.”

The dismissal is sudden, and Cullen realizes then how silent Verdanna has been. Her eyes on the table as his have been, never moving, fingers gripping the edge of the map with a strength that he’s afraid will tear the paper. But there’s something more in her voice. The deadpan tone a mask over another emotion.

“Inquisitor,” Josephine says immediately, but she wipes at tears that have started falling from the corners of her eyes. “My apologies. We will continue.”

“No apologies needed, Josephine,” Verdanna answers, eyes narrowed as she stands up straight. “It’s simply clear we’re finished. Everyone’s distracted, and a break… seems necessary.”

Leliana straightens, too, eyes narrowed at her. There’s a dangerous glint in her eyes. A hidden delight. “Are you sure, my lady?” Her voice is carefully neutral, but her gaze flickers to Josephine, who straightens her spine. Peers down at Verdanna’s hands.

“Positive.” Verdanna suddenly stands, and that’s when Cullen sees the tightness in her smile, close-lipped. “Let’s take a break. Reconvene.”

And then it clicks for them all - Leliana, then Josephine, then finally Cullen. The realization moves like a ripple amongst the advisors, who all turn to look for understanding in the others’ gazes, Josephine and Leliana with matching smirks that make Cullen cross his arms over his chest and duck his head to hide his own little smile.

“I simply think it’ll do us all good,” Verdanna says to counter no one but the stretch of silence.

“Well. If that’s the only reason,” Leliana laughs.

It happens then, clear as day. The sun through the glass windows illuminates it beautifully. The Herald of Andraste, the Inquisitor herself, Cullen’s beloved Verdanna Lavellan... blushes. It’s an incredible sight, one that Cullen savors seeing, one that makes him smile despite his previous embarrassment.

“It is,” she replies. The slightest waver to her tone, a betrayal from her own voice. “It’s always good to take breaks.”

Josephine titters behind her quill. “Of course, Your Worship. We’ll reconvene, then, in an hour. Perhaps the commander needs a break as well. To read through the proposals.”

“Or some privacy with the Inquisitor. To find the perfect match, of course, Josie.”

“Oh, of course.”

There’s a growing delight in Cullen, one from the way that Verdanna’s eyes widen, blush grows brighter, and sudden stammer she develops. “I - I don’t need privacy! We don’t - I don’t know what you’re implying, Josephine -”

“Of course you do, Inquisitor,” Leliana teases, nodding as she links arms with Josephine and begins to walk towards the door. “After all, I’m sure you’ll be able to help him figure out what royal he’ll be best suited for. Or perhaps not a royal at all.”

“Perhaps the both of you could go to Orlais,” Josephine calls out as the War Room door opens. “Announce a potential engagement.”

“One that would surely shock the world,” Leliana says as they depart. “And leave a lot of disappointed fans of the commander. Think about it, Inquisitor.”

The door then shuts behind them both with a solid thud. Verdanna’s eyes don’t leave where Josephine and Leliana left from, and Cullen finds himself covering his mouth with his hand to hide his smile. He still gets a glare, however, when Verdanna turns and sees his raised brows.

“Cullen…”

“Are you, then?” he asks, before he can stop himself. “Jealous?”

“I don’t - I just don’t want the commander of the Inquisition to be used as folly for the games of my spymaster and my ambassador.” It’s a shoddy cover up, especially considering that her eyes can barely look Cullen in the face.

“You are.” His voice is a little awed, a little honored, and he takes a step around the table towards her, smiling.

“I am not!” Her voice is sharp, but she doesn’t step back as Cullen steps toward her. “Not at all.”

“Not even a little bit?” he asks, hand reaching for hers, holding it gently to pull her close. There’s a play of a smile across her lips as he does, and he can’t help the way it makes him grin. “The tiniest fraction, perhaps?”

When she looks up at him, that smile is warm, especially as he pulls her against him. “Never,” she confirms. “After all, none of those suitors got the honor of dancing with Commander Rutherford at the Winter Palace.”

“That is true,” he confirms, laughing, “but there seems to be a little something more there.”

“If there is, you’ll never find out.”

Perhaps there’s an ulterior motive in what Cullen prepares to propose. But he can’t help his curiosity, nor the way that her potential jealousy makes his mind… work. “I’ll make you a deal,” he offers, pushing her braid back behind her ear. “Tell you what. If I admit something to you, you admit something to me.”

It gets her attention, that’s for sure. Her brow raises at him as she looks up, weighing her options. “Something?”

“Something about… our feelings. And jealousy.”

He sees his own desire mirrored, then. Her eyes scan him from head to toe, fingers squeezing his hand for a moment before she smiles. “All right, Commander. I’ll bite. When have you been jealous?”

There’s the briefest hesitation, and he can’t help the way he has to clear his throat, drop his gaze to the war table for a moment to gather his courage. “There might have been a moment,” he finally states, “when he settled in Haven, that I was jealous of… you and the mage Dorian Pavus.”

“Dorian?” Her voice is delighted, and he feels a small drop of horror dawn as he realizes that she will not be the only one to know this particular secret.

“I know I’ll never live it down,” he says, sighing. “But, yes. Pavus, when he first arrived, held a lot of your time, and I was - I was jealous of the attention he got. The trust. Not something I’m proud of to be sure, but. It happened.”

Her laughter soon echoes around the room. It’s big and bold and hiccups a time or two, especially as she leans forward in her jest to press her forehead to his neck. “That is incredible. Jealous of Dorian.”

Cullen can’t help his indignance, straightening up. “I will simply say he was very good at being on your side, and the two of you were very fond of each other very quickly. He was also a mage. Traveling in time with you! And unfortunately, he is not… unattractive, so those were the dots I connected.”

It’s a moment before her laughter dissolves into giggles, and soon she is letting out a long sigh of delight. “I’m not saying your reasoning is flawed, Cullen. You don’t need to defend yourself. It’s just… it’s very cute. You’re very, very cute.”

It’s his turn to blush, though he looks down at Verdanna with a raised brow. “So were there grounds?”

Her giggle starts up again, briefly. “Hah, no, Commander. Nothing happened between me and Dorian Pavus. There’s nothing to be jealous about, Commander. Dorian is a confidante and a friend, and that’s all he is.” Verdanna’s hand reaches up to fiddle with the fur lining of Cullen’s armor before cupping his cheek, thumb stroking along his stubble in a brilliant, warm touch. “All he ever was.”

“A confidante, for sure, as I have a feeling I will be hearing this over our next game of chess.” His dry tone makes Verdanna laugh again, a sound he will always cherish. There’s a kiss shared, chaste and gentle. But when Cullen pulls back, there’s something playful he can’t help but show in his smile. “Well? Now it’s your turn.”

“My turn?”

“Admit it. You were a bit jealous at the thought of those nobility clamoring for my attention.”

“I -” Verdanna starts, but at the look she gets from the commander her eyes roll fondly. “Alright, alright. Fine. At the mention of people… desperate for your hand in marriage, I might’ve gotten… a little bit jealous.”

“Only a little bit?” he asks, and her laugh is warm as she pinches his cheek.

“Don’t push it, Commander. But, yes. I was jealous. Happy?”

It’s an ego boost in more ways than one. It makes his heart pound, his blood sing, at the thought of Verdanna coveting his time as much as he covets hers. Jealous of endless faces and names who fight for his attention just as he is the innumerable patrons who seek out the Inquisitor. It makes him desperate for another kiss, one that has one hand gripping hers and the other pulling at the buttons on her coat.

“Only so I can reassure you,” he murmurs, “as you did for me. There is no one in his hold nor in the known or unknown worlds around us that matters to me as much as you, Verdanna. And no one who you need to be jealous about. There is only you and me, no one else.” And then he has to smile. “After all… I do believe only one person got to dance with me at Halamshiral.”

A beat passes. Verdanna looks up at Cullen with softened eyes, a push on her toes to press her forehead to his. “A reassurance indeed,” she murmurs.

There’s a beat that passes as he meets her touch, holding both of her hands now and lifting them to his lips. As he does, however, the familiar light in her eyes is back, bright and vibrant and certainly plotting.

“You know… Josephine and Leliana said an hour,” she tells him. “Whatever could we do to pass the time, Commander?” Cullen feels a warmth flood his body, better than the sun on his skin.

“I bet we could come up with some ideas, Inquisitor,” he murmurs back before crashing his lips into hers with fervor.

-

Cullen’s eyes scan the map once more. There’s only one way forward, and his hand lifts to rub at his chin as he studies it. He considers shaving, as well, but it’s a distant thought. Verdanna tends to enjoy his stubble.

Not the time.

He has to shake his head to clear thoughts of her. To focus on the task at hand. It’s a luxury he shouldn’t allow, especially considering the danger ahead. But he can’t help it, especially as he hears the creak of the door as Verdanna strides in, fresh from her journey to the Forbidden Oasis and looking every title she claims. Her chin lifts in greeting to the room and she smiles, but for the moment, he considers it just for him. And then he remembers there are others in the room as Leliana speaks, clearing his head with her introduction.

“Adamant Fortress has stood against the darkspawn since the time of the Second Blight,” she states, looking at the Inquisitor.

Cullen, ever eager, jumps in. “Fortunately for us, that means that it was built before the age of modern siege equipment. A good trebuchet will do major damage to those ancient walls. And thanks to our lady ambassador…”

He turns to Josephine, who smiles graciously. “Lady Seryl of Jader was pleased to lend the Inquisition her sappers. They’ve already delivered the trebuchets,” she informs them. All the pieces falling into place.

Leliana smiles, too, but it’s tempered. “That is the good news, Lady Inquisitor.”

“And the bad news?” Verdanna’s voice sounds a little worn, and Cullen understands why. Always bad with the good, it seems.

Leliana continues. “Erimond called the ritual at the Western Approach a test. He may already be raising his army of demons in the fortress.”

“The Inquisition forces can breach the gate,” Cullen reassures them all. He trained them well. “But if the Wardens already have their demons…”

Leliana lifts her hand to cut him off. “I found records of Adamant’s construction. There are choke points we can use to limit the field of battle.”

Cullen can smile at that, turns to look at Verdanna. “That’s good. We may not be able to defeat them outright, but, if we cut out reinforcements, we can carve you a path to Warden-Commander Clarel.”

Verdanna snorts, and Cullen raises a brow at her. “So our plan is to lay siege to a legendary fortress filled with demons?” It gets a chuckle out of him, but he leans forward to look at Adamant on the map once more. Narrows his gaze. The threat continues to hover, and he feels solemnity settle on his shoulders.

“It’ll be hard fought,” he admits. “There’s no way around it, but we’ll get that gate open.”

Josephine, ever the optimist, pipes in as well. “It’s also possible that some Wardens may be sympathetic to our cause.”

Leliana agrees, at least partially. “The warriors may be willing to listen to reason, though I doubt they’ll turn against Clarel directly. The mages, however, are slaves to Corypheus. They’ll fight to the death.”

“No matter which way the Wardens go, we’ve built the siege engines and readied our forces, Inquisitor,” Cullen tells her. There is no smile now, the knowledge of another battle looming over all of them. “Give the word, and we march on Adamant.”

“I’ll need some time to prepare,” Verdanna says to the room, “but when it’s time, I’ll let you all know.” With a few nods, looks to each other, the four of them stand tall, Verdanna’s voice clear. “All right. Dismissed.”

Josephine and Leliana leave first, their murmurs for each other and each other alone. Cullen doesn’t mind, as it gives him the chance to walk around to Verdanna’s side of the table, look with her at Adamant’s position on the map. “We have the ability,” he finds himself saying, reassurance for her. “The numbers. Soon, it will be in the Maker’s hands.”

“I find myself unwilling to leave it all up to the Maker,” she murmurs back, sighing as she pushes one of the figurines forward. Cullen’s symbol, the Inquisition’s forces, pushing in towards the fortress.

He nods. Reaches up to push her braid back behind her ear, moves his hand down her back. “It’s a good thing we have you, then,” he whispers. A kiss on her cheek. “Maker or no, we have you.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Commander,” she says, but he can see the small flush on her cheeks. It makes him eager to kiss her again, but he restrains himself. Especially as her lips curl, unsatisfied by something she sees. “You will be there. At Adamant,” she says. It seems to be a dawning realization.

“Right by your side, for as long as I am able,” he promises. “Just like I was at Haven.”

If anything that deepens her frown, and she stands up straight again, takes a step back from him and the table. “I don’t want you taking any unnecessary risks for me. I don’t want the Commander of our forces by my side if that’s not his place on the field. I know you know the strategy, what we’ll need to do, but -”

But he doesn’t let her dart away, push him back. Not now. Not when he can hold her instead. A wonder he’ll never take for granted. “Watching you fight, being alongside you… it’s more than simply wielding my sword while you cast your spells.My place will be with my soldiers. But it also means that I am here,” he murmurs, placing a hand on her heart, “wherever you go.”

As he does so, he feels a raised portion over her sternum. The feeling is… odd against his fingers, until he looks up and sees her gentle smile. “With me in more ways than one,” she whispers. Her fingers lift, and she tugs at an amulet to display for him.

But it’s not an amulet, or at least, not one he’s seen before. There’s no magic coming from the piece of jewelry, and yet as he watches it dangle in the light from the windows, he feels a warmth through his body stronger than potion could give him.

“Is that…” he whispers. Awestruck.

“Your coin,” she confirms. “Luck wherever I go. And you.”

“When did you do this?”

“When we got back from Honnleath,” she murmurs to him. “I can’t go and lose the luck you gave me.”

In that moment he knows. Knows something that he is still afraid to say. Cannot speak, regardless, overwhelmed by what he sees in Verdanna. He reaches for her, pulls her close, against his body.

“Cullen,” she gasps out, surprised. But he can’t help the way he buries his face into her neck.

“Verdanna,” he whispers back, and feels her fingers lift and curl into his hair.

-

There’s a lingering horror that is felt after the siege. Cullen says goodbye to Verdanna at the gates, and later finds out how close he was to losing her forever. She goes in with the Champion of Kirkwall, and leaves without him. A decision she had to make. She comes out mourning, with even more horrors held close to the chest, and in that moment he feels so helpless to her destiny.

What will become of the famed Inquisitor? If the Champion could be lost so easily, what would become of Verdanna? Would she, too, be reduced to a title in the annals of history? The thought of that turns his stomach, the realization that so many will hear her name, her title and not know who she really is.

Needless to say, it’s not the last time he feels his coin against her skin. Not even close. Especially after Adamant.

It seems the coin holds something, if not luck. Something special, that makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end when he thinks about it. Every so often, he finds himself drifting off, gaze dropping to her collarbone, thinking about what’s hidden beneath her attire. His coin. His.

(He does limit it eventually, when Josephine’s words blur behind him in favor of remembering where that coin is, what it means for them, and being caught by the ambassador. The blush to his cheeks seems almost fluorescent when she comments on it, and Verdanna and Leliana can’t stop their giggles for far too long.)

But as the days pass, the weeks, the months, it’s clear that Adamant was simply a battle, but that the war continues on.

He watches as the weight on Verdanna’s shoulders causes her to stumble. He watches as more and more places around Thedas call to the Inquisition for help. Ferelden and Orlais crumbling with threats of darkspawn, demons, Red Templars, Venatori, rogue apostates. He watches as people within their camp stumble, too, with her expected to pick up the pieces, Blackwall’s lie sending echoes only he hears in the dead of night, when she wakes with a start about being too late to save him. He watches her fight to control the Rifts and her own magic, and the Anchor become more of a burden than a blessing.

And, on top of all that, Corypheus is on the move.

It is clear the state of the world is in the balance. But what Cullen also realizes, through all of this, is that the Inquisition is not only beloved, but ready. That Verdanna takes all of these struggles through stumble and stride and plans to keep going. And that he, despite every fear, every uncertainty, is ready to follow her.

And so, the War Room beckons.

“It’s time to plan our next attack. What’s the state of the Inquisition?” Verdanna’s voice is strong as she looks among her people.

Josephine’s enthusiasm is not missed. “We’re well-loved in Orlais. Say the word, and the Empire will send her support.”

Cullen has his own excitement. A pride that fills him as he looks at the Inquisitor Lavellan. “And your actions at Adamant denied Corypheus his army of pet demons. With Orlais’ support, our numbers match his.” He straightens his spine, lifts his chin with a small smile. “Corypheus’s followers must be panicking.”

“My agents agree,” Leliana adds.” Our victories have shaken his disciples.”

“Perhaps they’ll rethink following the darkspawn magister from the dawn of time,” Verdanna says. It earns her a small chuckle, but the collective focus is not shaken. “Where is Corypheus now?”

“After Adamant, Corypheus uprooted his major strongholds and sent them marching south to the Arbor Wilds,” Cullen says. “His army clearly wasn’t prepared to flee. Our victories have them on the defensive.”

Suddenly, Verdanna’s eyes narrow with determination. Cullen feels a rush at the sight. “And that’s where we’ll keep them. Unable to flee. If he’s hiding in the Arbor Wilds, that’s where we'll finish him.”

“But what is Corypheus doing in such a remote area?” Josephine murmurs, almost a question to herself more than the room.

Leliana answers. “His people have been ransacking elven ruins since Haven,” she says, which makes Verdanna’s mouth purse. “We believe he seeks more. What he hopes to find, however, continues to elude us.”

“Which should surprise no one, but fortunately I can assist.”

The voice comes from behind Verdanna, and Cullen watches with a raised brow as Lady Morrigan steps forward. He knows of her, aware of her since she joined the Inquisition after Halamshiral. He watches as her keen eyes scan the room, landing on each advisor in turn. Verdanna brings her attention back to the topic, however, with a little bow of her head.

“You have my attention, Lady Morrigan.”

Morrigan’s low tone lilts across the room, and soon her focus is only on Verdanna. It’s unnerving, that singular focus, especially considering what seems to hide behind those eyes of hers. “What Corypheus seeks in those forgotten words is as ancient as it is dangerous. It’s best if I show you.”

There’s a brief pause. Cullen glances at Morrigan and takes a step around the table, but immediately he is trapped by her gaze.

“Not you, Commander. Only the Inquisitor.”

There’s a small, shocked silence in the room. Leliana speaks first. “What?”

“What will be revealed to her she will share with all of you. But as of now, the information I hold would be better suited for someone who knows the elves as I do… as well as the woman who holds the power of the Fade.”

“But you are taking her somewhere,” Josephine says, voice tight. “If you need safe passage to a location --”

“Where we are going, no others will be able to follow.”

There’s a hitch in Cullen’s breath, and he feels his jaw click as it clenches. “So you’re taking her… Without any other observers or people to verify your intentions. Just you and Verdanna?” he asks, her name slipping from his lips instead of her title. It earns him a look from the Inquisitor herself, as well as a raised brow from Morrigan.

“You doubt my intentions, Cullen Rutherford?” the witch asks him, voice low. He dares another step around the table. “Do you doubt your Inquisitor?”

“My concern is protecting the Inquisitor… and the Inquisition,” he states plainly, though the undercurrent of frustration peaks through. He can’t help it. There’s a part of him that dreads the idea of Verdanna losing herself, her life, because he trusted someone who shouldn’t be on their side. Blackwall’s betrayal sings in his head as he looks at Morrigan, her journey to the fade and the loss of Hawke clear in his mind -- but it’s Verdanna who stops his thoughts in his tracks.

“Lady Morrigan’s services were offered to the Inquisition. I believe she offers her knowledge to help, not to hurt,” she says. Cullen knows the brunt of this statement is directed at him, to drop his guard. “But the truth is that we need as much as we can get on Corypheus to beat him. If this offers us a leg up, we need to take it.”

“Unfortunately, Lady Lavellan is right. The longer we sit and bicker, the longer Corypheus has to find what he seeks.”

There’s a brief moment when his eyes meet Verdanna’s. Communication between them silent. After a pause, her hand lifts to her chest, where his coin rests, lifting and pulling her shoulders back.

Understanding fills him. I’m always with her. And while he reaches to settle his hand on the hilt of his sword, he looks toward Morrigan with a nod.

“Very well, Lady Morrigan. We will be here when you return.”

The waiting, however, is torturous. Cullen finds himself pacing back and forth, driving Leliana and Josephine from the room to Josephine’s desk for a short time as he moves throughout the space. But soon, Morrigan and his Inquisitor return, and indeed Verdanna tells them all what she saw. Testimony of a mirror, magicked to become a portal to what she and Morrigan call the Crossroads. If Corypheus acquires one, and learns how to use it, he will have access to pathways all across Thedas and the Fade.

“What happens when Corypheus enters the Fade?” Cullen asks them, both, eyes a little wide with the implications.

“Why, he will gain his heart’s desire, and take the power of a god,” Morrigan responds. “Or -- and this is more likely -- the lunatic will unleash forces that will tear the world apart.”

It’s shocking, the realization, but not surprising. If anything it’s a confirmation - in the end, all of them could have reached that eventual conclusion. But there’s a difference between suspecting and knowing. Verdanna echoes that precise sentiment as she looks among all standing there. “In Redcliffe, I saw the future Corypheus built. We can’t have that,” she tells them, and there is no argument.

Morrigan’s voice is sharp. “‘Twas always so, was it not? The madman would bury us all.”

“Pardon me, but -- but does this mean that everything, everything, is lost unless we get to the eluvian in time?” Josephine asks. Her eyes meet Cullen’s, and her question cuts to the heart of him.

He can’t help the way he speaks first. Eyes scanning the map as he spreads the corners with his fingers. “Corypheus has a head start, no matter how quickly our forces move,” he murmurs, looking at all the pieces.

Josephine cuts in, voice firm. “We should gather our allies before we march.”

“Can we wait for them?” Leliana counters, and her fingers move to hold one of her statuettes. “We should send our spies ahead to the Arbor Wilds.”

But Cullen’s voice raises over hers for a moment. “Without support from the soldiers? You’d lose half of them.”

Josephine cuts across him next. “Then what should we do, Commander? Let Corypheus outrun us?” The tension in the room seems to approach a dangerous tipping point, all of the advisors looking at each other for the answer none of them have. But, as always, it is the Inquisitor who leads them, and Verdanna takes her step forward to place her hand firmly on the war table.

“I advise you all work together instead of arguing,” she says fiercely. “Now is not the time for that.” For a second, her eyes scan the board, and then she raises upright once more, her voice clear, confident, commanding. “Josephine, have our allies send scouts to meet us in the Wilds. Leliana, your fastest agents will join them. Together, we’ll have enough spies to slow down Corypheus’s army until Cullen’s soldiers arrive.”

For another moment there is silence, this of a different kind -- respectful. Even Morrigan seems to appraise Verdanna with a greater understanding. This is their leader, and this will be their champion, for the betterment of all of Thedas.

Cullen can’t help the way he gazes at her, mouth a little open as warmth slowly overtakes him. Verdanna… his pride in her has him close to bursting, has him smiling despite what he knows now about Corypheus’s plan. Has him wondering if, despite Verdanna’s own unbelief on the matter, the Maker truly had a hand in bringing Verdanna to them. To him. The thought makes his cheeks a shade of red the light in the room is unafraid to illuminate, one that earns him a fond, loving look from her even as Morrigan brings them down to earth.

“Such confidence,” she says, a little smirk on her lips, “but the Arbor Wilds are not so kind to visitors. Old elven magic lingers in those woods. Beyond your understanding or mine, Lady Lavellan.”

Josephine chimes in, as always, with diplomacy on her mind. “We’d be remiss not to take advantage of your knowledge, Lady Morrigan. Please, lend us your expertise.”

Morrigan seems to not be able to help a small chuckle. “‘Tis why I came here. Although it is good to see its value recognized.”

Leliana’s eyes narrow at Morrigan for a moment, but any comment from her is interrupted by Cullen’s quick tongue. He speaks to Verdanna as the leader of her armies,, as her friend, as hers. “Any further instructions, Inquisitor?” Whatever she needs, he is hers to command.

But instead of a simple dismissal, she clears her throat. Cullen watches as she seems to think, brow furrowed, before looking towards her advisors in turn. First, Leliana, with a gentle smile. “The Inquisition began as a handful of soldiers.” She turns to Josephine next, eyes bright as she nods towards her. “Thanks to you, we’re now a force that will topple a self-proclaimed god.” Lastly, she looks at Cullen, and her smile is now a grin, her hand at her side once more reaching up towards her heart. “I could ask for no finer council, and no better guidance. No better friends.”

Cullen’s voice doesn’t waver as he mimics her motion, hand on his chest. “I speak for all of us when I answer: we could ask for no finer cause.”

No finer Inquisitor, he muses, watching as she begins to adjust the figurines with her other two advisors. A way forward, thanks to Morrigan. Resources thanks to Josephine. Infiltration, thanks to Leliana. Trained soldiers, thanks to Cullen. But belief… hope… a plan, all thanks to Verdanna.

No finer woman, Cullen thinks as well, watching her nod after a moment and look towards Morrigan. They begin to talk to themselves while Josephine and Leliana begin to plot the course her agents should take, and Cullen watches Verdanna’s head bow to Morrigan as she leaves. Always willing to respect the knowledge of those around her, fighting to understand those most would push aside -- Verdanna’s willingness to see her own limitations and turn to those who would help her overcome it is more than who she is as the Inquisitor - it’s who Cullen sees everyday. He thinks of Cole, of Sera, of Thom Rainier, of Iron Bull, of Dorian, all people pushed aside because of one reason or another… and yet brought into the arms of the Inquisition because Verdanna saw something great in them.

And as he reaches for his own figures, he brushes her fingers with his own, finds himself looking into her eyes and seeing something there that makes the world around them fade away. Sees his own struggles, so often at the surface, for a moment seem so small. Feels the constant itch for lyrium, clamoring for his attention, be pushed aside, her magic swirling in his chest, a soothe to his ache for a few seconds before she pulls away to reach for a few papers from Josephine.

These are the last moments of distraction he allows himself before focusing on the issue at hand, but he can’t help the way his thoughts turn once more to her, only her. There is no one like her, and yet the Maker saw fit for Cullen to be so lucky, to put him in her path to legend. The finest woman, the greatest Inquisitor, and as he watches her, he knows.

The truest love.

-

There’s a moment, in the Arbor Wilds, where Cullen sees her.

It’s a brief flash, really. He has soldiers behind him, pushing them forward, closer and closer to the main camp of red templars where Corypheus seems to be. His heart pounds in his ears, and he downs too many men he knows and a surprising amount he doesn’t. There are demons and Venatori and turned Grey Wardens and perhaps even a darkspawn or two. It is chaos and the ringing of battle as they go from camp to camp.

And then he sees Verdanna.

Feels her, really. In a flash of heat at his back, her magefire erupting and disintegrating a demon before it could slice through Cullen’s plate armor. It seems to scorch the back of his neck, and in a whirl of moment he turns to find the source. She stands with Cassandra, Sera, and Dorian, her staff spinning in her hand, and in a blaze of light a wall of fire ignites the forest floor, downing more spirits in its wake.

There is no moment to go to her, not now. Not when the fighting is so thick. But he finds himself drawn to her anyways, feeling a magical barrier surround him, watching the way her lightning is summoned in a moment’s notice. Another flash of purple, this one igniting head after head of soldiers, and then the dust settles, if only for a moment.

There is not much to say, even then. There is still so much fighting, and they both lead the charge, but he sees her, and for now, that is enough. She is safe, and her eyes are alight with her magic as they pass each other, fingertips brushing, hers dancing with prepared spells.

“Be safe, Cullen,” she tells him, and he feels one last barrier form around him. Another wave of demons approaches.

“Inquisitor,” he calls back to her as she turns, Cassandra taking the lead and Sera the rear. “Be well, friends. For the Inquisition!”

His men, like him, are delighted to see her. Energized, eager to fight. Ready to win. It’s long-fought, the journey to push the forces back, but in the end, they manage. And then…

Quiet.

The aftermath. The mourning of those lost, the celebration of victories won. There are certainly things to discuss, but for now he savors seeing you safe.

The journey back home is a long journey north. There’s lots to talk about, some of it serious, and other bits less so.

“Why can’t we have a big flying thing on our side, Quizzy? Not an demon, course, but something else,” Sera calls to Verdanna as she walks alongside the steeds, much preferring the ground. Dorian lets out a little snort.

“If you want to risk life and limb to attempt to train a dragon to fly for the Inquisition, dear Sera, be our guest.”

Leliana’s eyes narrow a little, playful as she glances back at Dorian. “You know, Qunari revere the dragon. Wouldn’t be a bad idea to bring the Iron Bull on an adventure like that, if someone wanted his favor.”

Dorian’s reddened cheeks are quite obvious, making Cullen raise his brow. “Well, I - certainly the Iron Bull’s approval simply emphasizes that it’s a terrible idea. Can never trust those Qunari to know common sense.”

But Sera’s voice shouts louder than the rest, especially as she elbows Blackwall beside her and speaks in the loudest whisper she can manage. “Something tells me we’re gonna be fighting a dragon soon.”

In the end, it gives Cullen and Verdanna a chance to laugh together as they banter, and he feels the comradery settle in his bones. Just as laying next to Verdanna settles, too, warming him from the inside out. Able to be in the same bed once more, able to claim his place beside her as he strokes her hair, watching her ever watchful gaze grow tired against his chest.

When Skyhold’s structure greets them in the distance, Verdanna turns to him, gentle smile as she reaches for his hand. Their steeds ride beside each other, and he glances behind them before entangling her fingers in his and squeezing them. “I’m going to call a meeting of the War Council,” she tells him, voice low. “There are… new developments to discuss.”

“As always, we’re at your service,” he says, voice strong.

Skyhold beckons. Soon their steeds are clopping through the front gate, and Cullen manages a smile through his exhaustion. That smile lingers in the War Room, pride lifting his chin and his chest as he looks over each representative. “I’m pleased to report we won the battle, Inquisitor. When you went through that mirror, Corypheus and his Archdemon fled the field. I’m not sure why.”

Morrigan’s voice is matter-of-fact, but there’s something underneath it that sends a shiver down Cullen’s spine. He does his best to avoid her gaze. “What he wanted was no longer within the temple.”

“Perhaps,” he agrees, humming. “After all, he spent so long trying to get into the Temple, he probably couldn’t have helped his forces at that point.”

Josephine’s answering hum pitches up. “Then Corypheus is finished,” the ambassador says, and Morrigan and Leliana turn to her with serious eyes. Almost nod.

“If he is wise, he will hide and rebuild his strength before he attacks again,” Leiliana says, reaching for a little statuette.

Morrigan immediately shakes her head. “No. He will not hide.”

“Meaning he will attack us directly, at Skyhold.” Verdanna turns to Cullen, and he has a flashback to their conversation at Haven, the way hellfire rained down on them at the place they started to build with the Inquisition. It makes his chest tighten.

Yet Morrigan hums, again, quite quickly. “Not necessarily, but neither will he remain idle.”

Leliana frowns. “And how could you have such insight into his plans?” Her suspicion is echoed by Cullen’s own thoughts, who simply shoots the Lady Morrigan a sharp look.

“The Well of Sorrows held many voices, and they speak to me now across the ages,” she replies. “They hold wisdom, secrets I never deemed possible. But even they fear what Corypheus has become.”

“But he’s not a god, yet,” Verdanna counters.

“Not yet,” Morrigan answers with a nod to the Inquisitor. “He is powerful and immortal, but… he has a weakness. The dragon he calls is not truly an Archdemon. It is a dragon, in which Corypheus has invested a part of his being. He doubtless did so out of pride to emulate the gods of old, which can be exploited.” Her hands spread, the answer laid out before them as she speaks. “Kill the dragon, and his ability to leap into other bodies is disrupted. He can be slain.”

Cullen knows Verdanna can’t help her little huff. It makes him smile, a quick one, as he glances toward her. “Just kill his dragon. Why didn’t we think of that before?”

Morrigan chuckles a little as well, and she turns to face Verdanna as she does. “There is a way to defeat the dragon, Inquisitor, and to match Corypheus in his power. The Well whispers it to me now. Your help will be required, Inquisitor.”

Verdanna nods. “I’ll meet you in the courtyard when I’m ready to embark,” she says, but Morrigan’s low laugh once again echoes in the room.

“No journey necessary. Simply… practice.”

Though ominous, there’s a reassurance to Morrigan’s confidence. “I’ll see to Skyhold’s defenses in the meantime,” Cullen says to Verdanna and the rest. “It can’t hurt to bolster what we have and make new what we don’t.”

“And Leliana and I will ensure that our allies know what occurred at the Arbor Wilds. News of Corypheus’ defeat will certainly help reassure those who still fear his forces,” Josephine says.

The plan falls into place, and Verdanna approves with a nod. “Then it’s settled,” she says. “For now, everyone rest. Our journey was nothing if not tedious and tiring, and there are still wounded to attend to and work to be done.”

“Yes, Inquisitor,” they all say, and with that, it is a dismissal.

She goes to all of them, eventually. Discusses with Josephine and Leliana what will be said and what will be omitted. Visits Morrigan in the courtyard. But she ends with Cullen, as he hopes, his finger tracking the words on a report from one of his men.

“How are the defenses, Commander?” Her voice cuts through his thoughts, and his head lifts to look at her with a smile as she leans against one of the walls.

“There… is good news,” he reports, sighing as he stands straight. “When we came, the decay of Skyhold had not spread to the foundations of the walls. Our boundaries are sturdy. However, walls are not always enough.” As Verdanna steps forward, he sits in his chair, leaning back with a press of his fingers against his temple.

Her steps carry her to his side, one hand on his shoulder as she looks over what he’s written. “At least there’s a place to start,” she says, voice quieter now that she’s next to him. After a moment, she perches on the armrest of the seat, letting one of her hands rub at his shoulder. “Tell me what you need, and we’ll send parties out to find it.”

“Understood,” he says, eyes on her eyes, the shape of her nose, the curve of her lips. “What’s next for you and Morrigan?”

At the mention, Verdanna simply chuckles, and he can hear her disbelief.

“Are you that worried?” he asks immediately. She shakes her head.

“No, simply that… astonished,” she says. “It’s a very complex piece of magic, with a lot of parts.”

“What does the spell do?” he asks, but again, she chuckles. Lifting a hand then lowering it once more.

“I - I don’t think I really know. It’s nothing I’ve seen, though she swears that the origin itself is Dalish in nature. And I don’t think I could describe it in a way that gives it justice,.” She smirks, then, and Cullen groans. “Or at least in words that are less than --”

“I regret ever telling you that,” he says with a wave of his hand, cutting her off as he stands and she begins laughing once more. There’s a flood of color to his cheeks. “More each moment.”

“Don’t be sour,” Verdanna giggles, which only makes his brow furrow more, makes his lips twist. “Cullen. I’m teasing.”

“You know, I told you that in confidentiality, so I surely hope I am the only one who has heard jokes of that nature,” he tells her, and her hand moves to his chest next before she leans down to kiss him .

“I know, vhe’nan,” she tells him. And as always, he believes her, especially as her lips peck against his and then a few more times on his cheek. “Better?”

“Much,” he says with a grin.

“You’re very smart,” she reassures him, hands lifting to cup his cheeks right over the color. “And incredibly brave. And distractingly handsome.”

“Distractingly?” That’s a new one, one that makes his smile only grow. It’s her turn to look bashful, simply turning away as she asks him.

“It can be hard to focus. But while we’re gone, I’ll be thankful for a distraction, I’m sure of it.”

A sudden stab of panic moves through him. He glances toward the door, looking at the way the sun seems to sit in the sky. “Are you leaving tomorrow?”

“Now, actually,” she admits, sighing. “We need Morrigan’s supplies. I came to say goodbye, and that I’ll see you back here, at the fortress.”

“So quickly?” It seems like too little, too late, this little goodbye, one he’s giving a thousand times before. But this journey with Morrigan feels different. Aches in his chest as he watches Verdanna stand and reach for his hand so he’ll stand with her. He complies, and she kisses him sweetly as he does.

“We need these components,” she whispers. “I wouldn’t go if it wasn’t important.”

“I know, my darling,” he whispers back. “I know.”

He hugs her tightly, and his eyes close as he buries his face in her neck, thankful for how she stays close to him as long as he holds her. He pulls back only when he thinks he’s memorized the sweet smell of her hair and the way her fingers feel gripping his sleeve.

“... walk with me?” she finally asks, after what feels like minutes of holding onto each other. There is a battle coming, part of a bigger war, and she looks nervous, even doing her best to push it down for his sake.

“Of course,” he answers, kissing her cheek. “Anywhere’d you like.”

It hits him as they walk down the battlements together, every so often his hands pulling her close for another kiss. It hits again as he watches the big doors open for her and Morrigan to leave, and once more as her figure disappears into the snowdrifts.

This is the endgame. But in war, there are always casualties. All he can do now is pray that what they have is stronger than Corypheus, turn to the Maker and his guidance, to Andraste and hers. But what’s stopping Verdanna’s body from arriving at their home, wrapped up tight in linens for the world to mourn her over and over again?

The answer, then and there, he realizes, is nothing.

And nothing scares him more.

-

The waiting kills him. Slowly and surely, inching through his veins like the craving for lyrium, compounding on each other until his pacing seems to run tracks into the wood beneath his feet.

“They’ll return,” Josephine tries to soothe him, “and soon. We’re almost to the end.”

But her words don’t help, and Cullen doesn’t know how to describe why. Doesn’t know how to admit that it’s the end he’s so frightened of.

What happens when Verdanna faces Corypheus for the last time? What happens when she reveals herself to him, shows her true colors to face his? What happens when she returns, when the war is over and won?

What happens if she doesn’t?

Any joy in each other’s company is soured by the impending end. The very real possibility that one of them won’t return from battle seems to be the only thing that he can think of, the thing keeping him up most nights. A world without Verdanna seems to have no color, no light, no life to it at all, and he worries that is the future that faces them.

And even now, he waits. Waits for her to return, waits for Morrigan to return, waits and waits and waits. The time ticks slowly by and he can’t help but wonder how much time he has left, even as he stands around the war table with Leliana and Josephine.

Those thoughts continue to linger, even as the doors to the war room push open. Verdanna enters with Morrigan close behind, and Cullen finds himself unable to tear his gaze away from the one who has his heart.

“Did you find what you need, Morrigan?” Leliana asks them, and the self-satisfaction in the woman is clear. She lifts her chin.

“I can match the darkspawn magister’s dragon, yes,” Morrigan hums. “As for matching Corypheus… that is up to you, Inquisitor.”

“We don’t even know where he is,” Verdanna says with a sigh, looking around the room. When she looks at Cullen, he manages the smallest of smiles.

“Then all that remains is to find Corypheus before he comes to us,” he tells her, letting himself huff out a laugh. “Simple.”

There’s a gentle sigh from the spymaster. “We’ve been looking for his base since all this began, with no success,” Leliana admits, clenching her jaw.

“Well, his dragon must come and go from somewhere.”

“What about the Deep Roads? We could send word to Orzammar, hire envoys to --”

The light hits them, before the sound. A blast of sickly green energy that shakes the hold to its foundation, and then the sound of thunder all around them. The green is answered by Verdanna’s own hand, the anchor glowing and pulling her forward, and with a shout she falls forward.

“Verdanna!” Cullen shouts, rushing to her side. His hand rests on her shoulder, but when she looks up, all he sees is the tight furrow between her brows, the determination in her gaze.

“It seems Corypheus is not content to wait,” Morrigan murmurs to them all.

Rising to her feet, leaning on Cullen ever so slightly, Verdanna gapes as she looks toward the window. “He’s in the Valley of Sacred Ashes?”

For once, Morrigan’s voice is solemn, not sly. The wisdom beyond her years ripples through her words. “You either close the Breach once more, or it swallows the world.”

Josephine’s gasp is an echo of them all as they gaze at Morrigan. “But that’s madness! Wouldn’t it kill him as well?”

The realization sets in all at once, and he finds himself looking between his compatriots -- from Josephine, to Leliana, and back to Verdanna once more. Finds himself forcing down the terror as he scans her face, the reality of their situation like a gut punch. “Inquisitor,” he says, voice still so stoic. “We have no forces to send with you -- we must wait for them to return from the Arbor Wilds.”

Verdanna meets his eyes, then, and there’s a sadness to them. But she looks past him once more to the storm brewing in the distance. “Just as Corypheus expects, I suppose.”

“We can rally the troops that are left,” Leliana tells the room. Her own gaze turns to Josie, who meets her eyes with a few quick blinks. And our friends will help us, but…”

“It’s you and the magister, Verdanna Lavellan,” Morrigan tells her. “What we do now is up to you.”

There’s another crash of thunder, a flash of green. Josephine ducks with a little gasp, and the whole group moves back from the windows, the foundation of Skyhold shaking itself.

“I know what I have to do,” Verdanna tells the room. “Keep each other safe.”

“Let’s find you shelter,” Leliana tells Josephine, grabbing her hand. With a look towards Verdanna, she nods her chin, deeply. “Good luck, Inquisitor. Maker be with you.”

“Andraste guide you, Verdanna,” Josephine tells her, voice still warm even through the low tremor. And with a final embrace for her ambassador, Cullen and Verdanna watch the two women move deeper into the hold.

Morrigan lifts her chin again. Looks to Verdanna with narrowed eyes and a toothy smile. Something flashes in her, something that makes Cullen tense, but as soon as it’s there, it’s lost in the lights dancing in the Valley of Sacred Ashes. “I will see you in battle, Lady Inquisitor,” the witch hums lowly, and with a turn she is gone almost as quickly as she arrived.

All that is left is the two of them. There is another crack of lightning, one that seems to reach for Verdanna herself. Her Anchor erupts and drops her to one knee in pain. Cullen feels his stomach roll as he watches her gasp out before reaching for her shoulders.

“Verdanna --” he starts, voice fighting to be heard over the magic brewing in the distance, but her head shakes.

“I’m all right, Cullen,” she tells him. “I’m okay.” His hands roam her body, but while no injuries are clear he can’t help the way he clings to her. Lifts her to her feet.

Always strong. For the good of the Inquisition. For the good of the world. But what about her? What if she --

“I have no forces to send with you,” he whispers. It hits him all at once. He is horrified, aghast, and his hands fall into hers, even with the Anchor burning so bright. His words had echoed over the war table, but now they shake and tremble. “No army. Almost no one. I have nothing to send with you --”

“I thought you knew me better than that, Commander,” she tells him. Urges him. “I have everything I need. Sera will stand behind me, Cassandra beside me, Dorian around me… all of our friends on the field below.”

“Let me come with you,” he all but yells over the madness outside. His voice growing evermore broken. His hands grip her arms, yank her close to terror and wrap around her without any thought of releasing. “Let me fight by your side! I will not lose you to that damned demon, do you understand? I will not lose you to him. I won’t -- I-I can’t, Verdanna. I love you.”

“Oh, gods, Cullen,” she gasps into his shoulder, and he hears the shakiness of her voice. “Don’t you realize? You are always with me.” Her hand reaches for his. Guides it up to her chest. She presses it flat, and he feels the etchings through her shirt, no armor blocking him from feeling the coin around her neck.

“Maker above,” he mutters, kissing her temple. And when she pulls back, the green of her eyes is swallowed by sickly emerald light, even more distorted by the faint shine of tears.

“I have our friends. Our family. And I have you, do you understand?”

He presses his forehead to hers. He imagines he feels every etching of her tattoos against his own skin, lifts a hand to tangle in her hair and breathe her in. One final prayer. One final plea.

“Maker guide you. Andraste guide you,” he whispers. The thundering of Corypheus’ presence looms. “Mythal guide you. Back home to me.”

Her last gesture is a kiss, firm against his lips, gripping his hands tight. “What did you say before? In front of Andraste herself? I will be back, Commander. And so will you. That is our destiny.”

With that, she unleashes herself upon the world. Turning from him with that beautiful smile, hair flying back from her face, steps confident and certain as she steps toward the doors of the War Room.

She is fearsome.

She is brilliant.

She is Elven, Dalish, magic, and he has the honor to be hers.

“You will be back,” Cullen whispers yet again, a prayer and a plea, and the wind carries it to her ears. Her back straightens, and with a nod, she pushes through the doors of the War Room, vanishes as the entrance slams to a close behind her.

-

It’s over. All is said, and done, and it’s over.

It feels too good to be true. For a moment, as Corypheus fell, Cullen feared the worst, felt bile in his throat. And yet there was nothing to doubt when he found himself arriving at the Inquisitor’s side, his eyes wide at the heap of precious metal on the ground, Verdanna standing above the burnt corpse of Corypheus.

It’s over.

All in all, the final celebration is nothing more than a party, and yet nothing less. The last party they dared to throw, Corypheus revealed himself, arrived with his army on Haven’s doorstep. Now, the threat is gone, and Cullen gazes over smiling faces and raucous laughter and drinks lifted to Andraste without worry that Skyhold will cave in.

And then she appears. At his side, like a warm summer breeze, gently touching his arm as she speaks. “Commander. What a… pleasure.”

When he turns to face her, he is glad to see her changed out of the armor she donned for the fight.. For the first time in ages, there is no furrow between her brows.

He grins. “Am I imagining it, or do we have a moment to breathe?”

There’s a hint of disbelief in her, too. She lets out a little huff. “We happen to have a moment.”

He can’t help his little chuckle, hand falling to his side as he manages to take in the sight of the great hall. “I think you’re right.”

The laughter fades, however. So does everyone else in the room. The light flickers on Verdanna’s face, and he can’t help but feel his hand twitch. To reach out to her face, brush his thumb along her cheek. How close he was to losing her. Losing this moment, this victory. It surges through him all at once, and he finds himself speaking to her from the depths of himself. “You brought us here. You are proof that the Inquisition has made a difference. That we will continue to do so.”

Her hand reaches for his. Their respectful distance no longer respectful, but Cullen can’t find it in himself to care. The night is young, the dawn will come, and she’s still standing in front of him, eyes bright in the firelight, not a scratch. It’s… all he’s prayed for.

“Our soldiers put their trust in you, Cullen,” she tells him in response. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for the Inquisition. For me.”

It takes him aback. He finds a ferocity in his voice as he squeezes her hand, an urgency. “I should be thanking you. You gave me a chance to… to prove myself. In your place, I’m not sure I would have done the same.” But just as soon as the energy has come, it fades. Eyes start to drift towards them, towards her, and he finds himself relinquishing his hold on her. Just for a little moment more. “I should let you mingle. I’m sure everyone desires your attention, as much as I might want it for myself.”

She nods. Steps away. But he doesn’t dare to miss the way her hand reaches to push her hair back, a mimic of his own action, the way she turns to face him even as she walks toward the other heroes.

The rest of the night seems to crawl at a snail’s pace. Cullen watches Verdanna move with ease amongst the crowd, from friend to friend. It seems all of Thedas is drawn to her, eager to make her laugh, praise her name, thank her for all she’s done. He watches as Varric promises one last game of Wicked Grace, as Iron Bull drinks to her name, as Sera teases and pokes her side and Dorian sends a wink in his direction. But even as his eyes flicker away for moments of praise for himself, for laughter and a moment with Josephine and Leliana, nothing stops him from watching her quietly slip towards the War Room.

It doesn’t take much after all. A whisper to the guard, a little look and smile. “We won,” Cullen hears her say, “relax for just a moment.” Her words are like sugar, and he imagines her lips as sweet, glancing behind him once more to take in the music before the wooden door closes with a clang.

“You managed to slip away,” he calls out to her. Her strides slow as she steps through Josephine’s space, and she turns to face him, chin lifted as the moon shines on her features, smile wide, devious.

“As did you, Commander,” she laughs, waiting for him to approach. It’s when they’re in step that she walks again, purposeful movements toward the far door, the creak drowned out by the laughter in the other rooms of the hold.

It closes behind them with a loud thud. The War Room shines with the stars in the sky, the only light from the window and the moon that shows itself, big and brilliant. The little figurines seem to glisten, and Cullen takes Verdanna’s hand as he walks toward them in the center.

“I thought I might claim more of your attention after all,” he admits when he turns to face her, his own hip pressed against the wood of the table.

“I’m glad you did,” Verdanna tells him, and he can feel the heart behind every word.

He can touch her now, but something holds him back. Perhaps it’s the ethereal light of the room, the faintest green glow of the Anchor on his hand. Perhaps it’s the fear that he will wake from a brilliant dream, and the world and the Fade will crumble around him. Something makes him falter, and as always, she is there to pick him up.

Her hand reaches for his, squeezes tight. “Now, Commander, what did we say?” she teases him. Her voice is quiet, and yet Cullen feels it reverberate down his spine.

“You mean what did I order?” he responds, and it’s with the lowest chuckle, eyes on her. “I said you would be back, Verdanna Lavellan.”

“And look where I am,” she whispers, and her other hand presses to his front, flat and warm, even through the metal of his armor. “I’m right here, Cullen Rutherford. Right… here.”

Right here. The symbol of their fight beside them, all of Thedas on the verge of war, and yet, here she stands. Brillant. And beautiful. And above all, his.

His hand slashes out. With a quick motion, he pushes aside all of the figurines, Josephine’s, Leliana’s, all of his even to the side. They fall to the ground with a clatter, some of them snapping under the drop, others under the weight of his boots as he crowds her against the war table.

“Destroying the property of the Inquisition,” Verdanna laughs, her body pressed against the edge. Cullen lifts her with ease so she sits atop the wood, over Skyhold’s representation on the map. Her Dalish markings seem to glow.

“All to please the Inquisitor,” he breathes. And with a yank forward, he is kissing her, enraptured, enlightened. Her fingers move up to his hair, his hands spread her knees wide.

There is nothing stopping them now. No self-control, no fear of discovery. All that Cullen can think is that in this moment he has her, and she has him, and somehow they have both made it to the other side.

Fuck the sanctity of the table, of the war room and their games of chess. Corypheus is dead. The war is won. Their lives have just begun.

-

i posted this on this blog for more exposure, and to keep my fics all in one place! but for more dragon age: inquisition content and shitposting, follow @inqvisitor.

thanks for reading. <3

[comfortwriting]

Unexpected - R.L

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompts

Remus Lupin (Marauders Era) x Fem Reader 

Prompts: 

62: He grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you into him, you could tell he was furious, jealous, and mortified. 

65: Your lips crashed against his whilst his hands fumbled with the zip on the back of your dress. 

Requested/About: Lupin and one of his good friends meet up a few times a month to have sex, one night at a party, Lupin sees her getting too close to his best friend and he hopes that their night of passion will change that. Unfortunately, their night of passion leads to something unexpected and only makes things worse. 

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, jealous Lupin, pregnancy, and swearing.

“So what’s going on with you and Mooney, then?” Sirius asked, leaning back in his chair, staring at your answers.

You looked over your shoulder, smiling at Remus, he looked up at you and smiled back shyly, his pale face and tired eyes more noticeable than usual.

You covered your answers with your hand, rolling your eyes at him “I don’t really know” you replied “we don’t really feel the need to put a label on things, y’know”

You and Remus considered many labels but none of them was able to justify how the both of you felt about one another without knowing each other's feelings. You’re both really really good friends that fuck, nothing more, nothing less - but outside the bedroom, his friends would always treat you as if what you had with Remus was so much more than the casual hook-ups.

“Have you fallen for our dear Mooney?”

“Now now, don’t get too excited, he doesn’t get any kinkier once he’s back to normal”

You were fine with being friends that fucked for the rest of your life, you never felt like you were in any hurry to make him your boyfriend or to put a spin on things, but not knowing how Remus felt - that sometimes bothered you, perhaps he wanted to be so much more than what you’re happy with.

Sirius stared at you, the corner of his mouth curling into a grin whilst Professor Flitwick collected in your mock papers.

James turned around in his seat, smirking with Sirius “will you be coming to the party tomorrow?” James asked.

You nodded your head and yawned, “yeah” you replied, stretching in your seat “It’ll be the last time I get to see him before the full moon”

Sirius wiggled his eyebrows up and down, causing James to smirk more, both of them breaking out into a laugh when you covered your face, your cheeks turning red.

“Look” you sighed, pointing at James “you try anything, and I mean anything at all, and you can kiss your second chance with Lily goodbye.”

James put his hands up in defence, pretending to be scared and murmuring “oh Y/N! please don’t set S-Snivellus on me, I’ll behave, I-I promise!”

Sirius couldn’t contain his laughter, shooting glares at Severus as he glared at you all from his desk. Peter looked a little afraid and cowered in his seat, you rolled your eyes at James, Remus blinked heavily to stay awake, smiling to himself at the sight of you.

You wound your hair around your wand, holding it for a moment and then letting go, watching your now springy curls twirl down and bounce, Lily walked around the room, applying the tiniest bit of blusher to her cheeks.

“You can get away with wearing such little makeup!” her friend commented as if she read your mind.

You applied your mascara and matte lipstick, looking at yourself once more in the mirror - you’d think you were going out for a meal, or to a dance, but you were only going down to the common room, you felt kind of silly for putting this much effort in, especially since Remus and you were friends; who did you have to impress?

Lily shook her head “I only wear it for special occasions, hopefully, this shade will keep that James Potter as far away from me as possible.”

“Hey” you called out, turning away from the mirror and walking towards Lily and her friend “I know you can’t stand him, and his ego is bigger than his shoe size, but James can be really nice once you get to know him” you defended your house teams seeker, walking towards the door “give him a chance.”

Bursting into the common room the smell of fire whiskey, smoke from the fireplace, and butterbeer overpowered the room, the chatter and laughter drowned out your thoughts whilst you searched for Remus.

You caught many eyes in the common room, none the beautiful shade of green you were so desperately interested in and searched for - you couldn’t find him anywhere.

“Bit lost, Y/N?” Sirius called out, nudging you in the arm playfully, another smirk creeping on his face.

You frowned, continuing to look for Remus on the spot, “I can’t find him anywhere, did he cancel?” you looked through the window at the night sky, searching for the moon.

“No, love” Sirius replied, taking a sip of fire whiskey “he’s a bit weaker tonight but he promised he’d be here.”

Part of you wanted to go into his dorm room and check, but you were friends - you couldn’t invade his privacy even if you were given permission to do so.

You nodded, feeling slightly better but also more worried about Remus, he hated the plague that was forced upon him and took over him once a month - you started to question whether or not he was already in the shrieking shack, all alone and falling apart.

Sirius noticed your sudden dip and put his arm around you, pulling you in closely “he’s going to be okay, Y/N” he said lowly into your ear “we’re all worried about him.”

Remus stood across the room, staring at you seemingly melting into Sirius’s embrace. Despite feeling sick, drained, and weak, he felt like transforming then and there, ripping Padfoots arm off his body.

“thank you” you smiled up at Sirius, part of your worries dissipating “I’m glad he has you lot to look after him”

Remus couldn’t bear it anymore, watching whilst his best friend got closer and closer to taking you away from him - he clenched his sweaty palms into fists, storming over to you with all of his strength, shivering against the cold despite the amount of heat engulfing you all in the room.

You looked over your shoulder, your eyes finally meeting those beautiful green ones you spent ages searching for. Pulling away from Sirius you hurried over to Remus and wrapped your arms around him as gently as you could, you nuzzled your face into his neck, his cool skin relieving you from overheating.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” you breathed, now pulling away and smiling at him, then frowning “I thought you cancelled.”

“is that why you were so close to him?” Remus spat, his temper ticking like a time bomb casually jolting in his stomach.

You flinched away from him, staring into his eyes feeling taken aback.

“He’s my friend” you replied as softly as you could “are you alright?”

He grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you into him, you could tell he was furious, jealous, and mortified. Your lips crashed against his whilst his hands fumbled with the zip on the back of your dress.

You pulled away from the heated kiss “not here” you pulled his fingers away from your zip.

Remus licked his lips slowly, staring at you as if you were something to eat, he grabbed you by the wrist again and lead you to his empty dorm room, fighting against his paranoia.

James and Sirius watched the two of you leave the common room, muttering to one another about the status of your relationship, debating whether or not to make a bet with the little gold that sat in the bottom of their pockets.

“Potter!” Lily called out, walking over to the two troublemakers “your hair looks ridiculous”

The two of you got undressed and couldn’t keep your hands off one another, Remus pushed you down onto his warm bed, his cold hands tracing around your breasts whilst he planted kisses down your neck, your soft moans filling the dorm room and exciting him even more.

Remus sucked on your neck softly, leaving little love bites before pulling away and taking your breast into his mouth, sucking slowly as you took his length into your hand, pumping it. Moaning against your breast, Remus pulled away and reached for the lube in the drawers on his bedside table.

“are you sure you want to?” you asked nervously, staring into his lust-filled eyes.

He nodded and smiled softly, “of course” he replied, “do you?”

You mirrored his smile and nodded your head “of course I do, Remus.”

He applied the silky lube onto his length, and then more onto his fingers which he spread across your entrance, slipping two of his fingers inside of you, pumping in and out to get you warmed up.

His cock hardened and you watched him in awe, biting your lip and moaning at the feel of his touch, he held the base of his cock with his other hand and looked into your eyes for approval, you nodded and he lined himself up against your entrance, pushing himself inside of you slowly, filling you up as your walls tightened around him.

You moaned out softly, watching his perfect scarred body move whilst he thrust inside of you, Remus moved closer and wrapped his arms around you, pushing himself deeper inside of you. Your arms wrapped around him and pulled him closer, your lips hovering against his ear, each and every one of your moans you let out not going unheard.

His lips grazed against your collarbone, the sight of his lower back and bum making you blush with each thrust. Your hands travelled up higher, your fingers now tangled in his light brown hair, Remus pulled away from you and grabbed onto your legs, propping them up upon his shoulders, his cock travelling even deeper inside of you, the head brushing against your G-Spot.

“Remus, I can feel you against my-” you scrunched your eyes shut, unable to control your moans.

Remus felt his heart flutter as you moaned out his name, seeing you look so exquisite and blissful whilst he pleasured you - no one else, just him.

Bucking his hips, Remus groaned out and gripped onto your waist, keeping you in line whilst he fucked you deeper and faster, hitting your G-Spot over and over, sending you over the edge, your hands gripping onto his bedsheets so tight that your knuckles turned white.

“You feel so fucking good!” You moaned out again, your lip now red from all of the biting “I’m-” your legs began to jolt uncontrollably “I’m getting close!”

Each and every time you came undone onto Remus, it flicked switches inside of him, his cock started to throb inside of you, twitching with each and every thrust - he felt himself - like you - getting closer and closer to bursting.

The sight of your legs jolting, your back arching, your mouth wide open, the sound of you moaning his name, telling him how good he felt, your walls tightening around him, the thought of your cum spilling down his cock - he couldn’t take it anymore, and before he could control himself, he released his seed deep inside of you, being too dazed to realise what he had done.

Remus collapsed on top of you, chasing his feeling of bliss before his other feelings of shame and disgust crept upon him.

You laid there, Remus on top of you, your heart pounding in your chest, not knowing what Remus had done, your stroked his hair and felt yourself getting closer to drifting off to sleep.

After five minutes of cooling down, Remus’s body language made it pretty clear that he wanted to be left alone, guilt and hurt surged inside of you, a few meters behind the panic - you quickly scrambled to your feet, getting dressed and hurrying out of his dorm room.

James and Lily were having the smoothest conversation together than anyone had ever seen, not a single argument had broken out and Sirius watched, scanning the room for more fire whiskey with each cup he emptied.

Seeing tears run down your face as you scrambled towards your dorm, he tried to follow you but stopped in his tracks, realising there was no way he could get up there, instead he walked towards his own, bumping into a very poorly, annoyed, and irritable Remus.

Sitting on the tile floor of the shower, you pressed your eyes into your hands, seeing colourful stars appear in the darkness. Remus didn’t say a word to you since that night and he had been at the shrieking shack for over a week, refusing to return despite the begging and convincing of Padfoot, Prongs, and Wormtail. Your period was also late, your breasts swelling and constant nausea made you worry.

You wanted to sit under the flowing hot water for the rest of the day, but you knew you couldn’t, in a few minutes time your life could be changed forever. Your hand rested on top of your stomach, the thought of another life in there bringing you to tears.

Standing up, you turned off the water and grabbed your towel, drying yourself and wrapping it around you, trying to stay as warm as possible.

Getting changed into some comfortable clothing, you walked into your empty dorm room, opening your drawer and peering over at the pregnancy test two thick red lines peered back at you through their little windows; your now stomach doing flips, your heart sinking down into your flipping tummy, and your life-changing forever.

With your test stuffed into your tracksuit bottom pockets, you hurried across the Quidditch pitch, running over to James who was too busy waving at Lily up in the stands to notice you.

“Where is he!” you demanded.

James looked confused and slightly alarmed “who? Mooney? You know-”

“No!” you hissed under your breath, trying not to cause a scene “Sirius, I need him, where is he?”

“He’s catching up on homework by the lake-”

You took off and sprinted past James, too focused on finding your best friend to thank him or care about disrupting Quidditch practice.

Finally reaching Sirius you collapsed next to him on your knees, against the tree, tears running down your face and your lips going bright red and swelling.

Sirius dumped his books on the grass without a second thought, accidentally spilling his inkpot across the pages he had worked so hard on.

“I don’t know what to do” you cried, your head going back into your hands, rocking yourself forwards and backwards.

Sirius could feel his heart pound like yours, he put his arm around you and pulled you back into his arms.

“What’s the matter, Y/N?” he asked softly, rubbing your arm “please tell me.”

You dived into your pocket and pulled out the pregnancy test, handing it to him.

Sirius stared at the test, his heart dropping when he finally understood the results, knowing how Remus would react if he found out about being the reason an innocent baby would turn into a monster.

“I don’t know what to do” you cried “he’s just my friend, this was never meant to happen.”

Sirius debating many of the plans that swam around his head, but he picked the one he knew was best.

“We can’t hide this from him,” he said softly, lifting up your chin so you would finally look at him “he’s our friend, he deserves to know.”

Remus finally broke out of hiding, appearing and feeling much better than before, but unfortunately, he had walked over to you and his best friend at the wrong time - getting the wrong end of a very confusing stick.

“deserves to know what?” he called out, his voice shaking.

You jumped out of your skin and looked at Remus, more open wounds on his face slowly healing.

“Remus-”

His eyes fell on the pregnancy test in his best friends hands “are you...” he sounded breathless.

You nodded your head slowly “yes” more tears formed in your eyes.

Remus shook his head and swallowed hard, clenching his fists, his eyes shooting daggers into Sirius.

“I trusted you, Padfoot!” you raised his voice.

Sirius got to his feet quickly, shaking his head “Remus, settle down, this isn’t what you think-”

“sure it is!” Remus flashed you a glare “you’ve always been close to her, you’ve always tried to push me out so you could have her!”

“Remus, please!” you begged, standing up and pulling on his arm “let me explain!”

“explain what exactly?” Remus croaked “that you’re carrying my best friend’s baby?”

You shook your head, hyperventilating whilst your hot tears ran down your red cheeks “no, the baby isn’t his you idiot!”

Remus paused, stopping himself from inching closer to Sirius, his eyes desperately searching yours.

“W-What do you mean?” Remus asked.

“The baby I’m carrying” you choked “it’s yours.”

Taglist: @amourtentiaa @reeophidian @inglourious-imagines @alwaysnforeverfangirl @impulse-anchor 

[tea-and-spoons]

What happens when... I develop a new food allergy?

Whether this is your first food allergy, or the most recent in a long list, it can still be a rough adjustment and overwhelming amount of change.  But as someone who has gone through this more than twenty times, I promise you it’s not the end of the world.

The majority of this post is related to severe, anaphylactic food allergies, but I’m of course always going to advocate for being careful, and some of this will apply to milder allergies too.  This advice also works if you were just diagnosed with celiac disease, or another condition that makes you sensitive to cross contamination.  I’m going to let your doctor handle the medical side of this, but I’m hoping this post will cover all the other things you need to know!

I made some pretty thorough lists of things to check, replace, or clean to make sure you’re safe from allergens- I’ll put those at the end of this post.  It is a lot- recruit a non-allergic friend to help if you can!

But before I get into the lists, here are some other things I’ve learned about getting a new food allergy.

-Update your doctors, including your dentist.  And also update any emergency info you have around, like your medical ID in your phone.

-Research other names for your allergen and what it might be found in.  Food labelling can be very sneaky, which is Not Cool, but you get really good at reading ingredient labels once you know what to look for.  I would stay away from googling too many other allergy related things though, it’s an easy way to get into a panic.

-Talk to the people you live with.  Hopefully they’re good about it, but they might take a while to understand, or might even be angry and resistant, which honestly is beyond me.  If this is your situation, I am so so sorry.  You deserve to feel safe in your own home, no matter what.  If you can set some ground rules and get people on board even a little bit, that will help, and hopefully everyone will come around eventually.

-You should also talk to your partner, or anyone you might be kissing (or who might be kissing you, even on the cheek.  Hi grandma.)  Their foods, medications, reusable water bottles, and toothbrush are all possible ways you could get sick.  So even if they haven’t eaten allergens in hours, it could still be on their toothbrush and that can be enough to cause a reaction.  This research article (Maloney JM, et al. Peanut allergen exposure through saliva: assessment and interventions to reduce exposure. J Allergy Clin Immunol 2006; 118: 719-724.) found that waiting at least an hour and having something allergen free to eat was the best way to de-poison-ify for someone you want to kiss.  I’ve also heard from other allergists that 3-4 hours is the right number.  So I would ask your allergist what they recommend for you.

(note:  I would like to keep this blog safe and friendly for spoonies of all ages, but if you are in need of more information about dating and allergies, feel free to message me and I’ll send you some links!)

-One thing that surprised me with some of my food allergies was the cravings.  Sometimes I never want to even hear the word “pineapple” again, but especially if it was something like eggs that are more a hidden ingredient, I struggled with cravings for foods I couldn’t have anymore, like French toast.  And I’m not even someone who likes food that much!  So I’m here to tell you that the cravings are normal, and will subside in a few weeks.  It also helps to just not be around things you can’t eat for a bit.  And to look for replacement recipes for your favorites- there’s so much out there, it’s really impressive.

-The other common (emotional) reaction is anxiety.  Anaphylactic food allergies can be life threatening, of course you’re scared!  It is 100% normal to be worried and afraid and anxious and terrified, especially after an allergic reaction.  That response happens to help keep you safe!  But it’s also exhausting, and can get out of control.  My best advice here is to follow the concrete steps you need to be safe, and then tell yourself that you’ve done everything you can, you know what you’re doing, and even if something goes wrong, you know you are prepared.  You can be prepared and careful AND not have to be scared all the time.  There is zero shame in seeing a therapist about this too, they can really help.  (My advice here is borrowed from my lovely therapist!)

And here are the lists I mentioned earlier!  I hope this helps you feel safer and more prepared.  Severe food allergies are a big change, but you got this!

Things to replace:

-Toothbrush (and maybe toothpaste too)

-Any food that is still safe but might be cross contaminated (like flour, sugar, spices, things that go on toast… basically any open containers)

-Kitchen sponges and rags and anything else that gets used to hand wash dishes

-Chapstick and lipstick

-Stim toys that go in your mouth

-Cast iron kitchen equipment

-Cutting boards

-Reeds (if you play a reed instrument)

-Ice cubes, if you have a tray in your freezer that people reach into

Things to clean:

-Kitchen itself, including all appliances and countertops

-Anywhere else food is kept or eaten (such as pantry, dining room, couch, in your purse, desk, locker)

-All cooking supplies (plates, pans, silverware, crockpot, basically everything)

-Potholders and oven mitts

-Pillowcases

-Dish towels

-Doorknobs

-Handles

-Light switches

-Remotes

-Cloth napkins

-Reusable water bottles

-Kitchen drawers that might have gotten crumbs or residue in them

-Retainer or mouthguard

-Lunchbox

-Toys and fidgets

-Purse/backpack

-Writing utensils

-Car steering wheel, controls, and handles (especially if you’re the driver)

-Inhaler, spacer, nebulizer, CPAP mask, and other related equipment

-Oral thermometer

-Face masks

-Phone, computer keyboards, touch screens

-Hand or wrist braces

-Video game controllers

-Any musical instruments you play, but especially if it’s a wind instrument.  Plus the case, and any cleaning equipment.

-Whatever your toothbrush is stored in

Things to check the labels on:

-All your food (what you have at home, and anything new you buy)

-Toothpaste

-Floss

-Shampoo and other hair products

-Hand soap and dish soap

-Deodorant

-Makeup and chapstick

-Medications

-Lotions

-Sunblock

-Pet food (if their food turns out to contain your new allergen, you might want to clean or replace their toys as well.  And a bath for the pet themselves!)

If I missed anything on my lists, please feel free to add on in the replies!  If you need someone to talk to or have questions, you’re welcome to message me.  And I promise this gets easier 💙

[astaroth1357]

A Lazy Day with MC and the Brothers

I was just chilling one day and thought about how a lazy day in with our boys might be like… I like hijinks, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes we ought to slow down too, you know?

Check my Masterlist for more!

Warning: Slight NSFW-ish? I dunno how to tag innuendo...

Lucifer

First off, hats off for managing to convince the guy to just do nothing for any length of time. That’s some seriously impressive persuasive powers, MC, you sure you don’t know how to charm?

Lazy Lucifer=Sleepy Lucifer. He spends so many nights up late getting work done then follows it up by getting up early in order to wrangling his brothers. It's honestly like it all catches up with him... He’s sleeping in and he’s sleeping in HARD.

Might text one of his brothers to bring them in a late breakfast at some point (never mind the fact it’s practically dinner). Beel would be the one most likely to agree to it, but he also may just eat whatever he picked up on the way there so hopefully someone else is feeling charitable… Try Asmo.

Honestly, his entire goal is to not leave the bedroom at all. If he leaves, then he runs the risk of people seeing him… wait for it... relaxing. Oh, just imagine the scandal!!

Some classical music, a bit of conversation, and maybe a good book in bed would all sound like heaven to him. They may have to get up to make some tea to go along with it, just remind him that drinking coffee on your recharge days can have the opposite effect. The taste of coffee could always just end up reminding him of work anyway…

The evening can go one of two ways. Calm and peaceful or "stress relieving." If they chose the stress relieving option, best be prepared because he'll have a whole night's worth of stress to let out and he's going to need some help… 😏

Mammon

He’s going to want to be close to the MC the whole time, they can hold onto him or him onto them, whatever works. It doesn’t matter as long as there’s still some kind of contact happening.

A whole day with just him and the MC? And they don’t even have to be doing anything? Where can he sign up??

Cue a lot of doing nothing in particular with Mammon tangled up on them in some way: hugging their waist while he checks his phone, resting their legs on his lap during a gaming session, wrapping himself around them while they just have casual conversation. That kind of thing.

When they eventually get hungry then he might pop down to the kitchen and make them some instant noodles (I wouldn’t trust much else he tries to make since… well we know he kind of just adds whatever’s around to his food).

He might start getting a little restless part of the way through the day though, so they’re going to have to do something to get that energy out… 🤔

Use your imagination, I know this fandom can.

Leviathan

The reigning Prince of Lazy Days. Everything about Levi screams “goof off/game night buddy” (at least if the MC is a fellow otaku anyway).

He probably didn’t sleep the night before because he was playing/watching something so the morning will go down one of two ways: 1) He just pulls an all-nighter and begins to progressively lose his mind as the day goes on, or 2) He’s dead to the world until 2pm. Only one of those options is entertaining so you know what I'm going with.

Things will go pretty smoothly through the morning. They don’t have to go anywhere because his room has plenty of snacks so they can just chill out and watch anime or play video games.

Buuut stuff will get more dicey as the afternoon rolls around and his sleep deprivation sets in. He’ll start losing a lot of his filter and may ramble for even longer than normal with even less coherency. He’ll also get more um… "bold" than usual.

Or he may just want to cuddle with them while he babbles on about how much he loves them and how warm they are and how much they remind him of Henry, which reminds him have they seen the latest season of “My Life with Seven Demon Brothers Who All Love Me!” yet because the main character there also reminds him of them and-

He’ll pass out eventually, probably latched onto them somehow with his tail around them tenderly. Don’t bring it up to him in the morning because he will unsuccessfully try to deny it ever happened.

Satan

Not opposed to the occasional lazy day. It actually does good for his nerves since holding in all that pent-up anger can feel like stuffing an elephant into a tea kettle sometimes...

They’re going to want to get him out of his bedroom or the library if they don’t want to fight for his attention against whatever new book he’s eating through today. When the man gets engrossed then it’s like nothing else matters, the House could split in two and he'll only notice if he suddenly can’t reach his drink anymore...

May actually be advantageous to go outside with him, take a nice stroll around the House while having some interesting conversation. They could poke his brain about anything that suits their fancy while they’re out amongst the trees and nature.

If they don’t want to go outside and rather take their chances with the book then okay but the engrossment problem still applies. He may even forget to eat...

Best way to combat his lack of attention is to be a little brat that’s juuust cute enough not to piss him off. It’s a delicate balance. That means getting real close to him, like sitting on his legs, and just occasionally reminding him of their presence with longing looks while tapping, flicking, or messing with the book from time to time (yes, kind of like an attention-seeking cat).

Play it just right and they’ll get attention on them alright, but he may also be looking to punish his “needy kitty." Hope that’s what they’re aiming for... 🤷‍♀️

Asmodeus

Really? They want to do nothing? Nothing at all? Are they sure they don’t want to do him instead...? 😏

A relaxing day with Asmo is more or less like a day spent wrapped up in mutual worship and adoration. The guy wants all of their attention and love but he’ll return it and then some. As long as they treat him like the love of their lives it will honestly be like having their own day spa day in Heaven.

If the MC wants to relax, then he’s just the sort to know how to provide for them both. The only question is how do they want it?

The man can give them a full treatment, I mean, just look at his bathroom alone! A good soak in a hot bath, facial masks, back massages, mani-pedis, just say the word MC and he’s more than willing to bestow whatever their little heart desires. That’s his job, isn’t it?

Asmo may be a party boy, but if it’s a little TLC you need, emphasis on the T, then look no farther MC. He’s the guru.

On the flipside if they’re looking for a little release well… who better to ask than Asmo right? He’ll make sure they’ll never want to leave that bed again. 🤭

Beelzebub

As long as snacks are still involved then he’s all in, babe. He’ll do nothing with them all day as long as they keep him fed.

Two words. Couples. Cooking. They can’t skip a meal with Beel so if they’re going to spend lazy time with the dude then they better be planning on being a tag along to the kitchen.

It doesn’t have to be a super strict though, it’s not like they’re not cooking with Barbatos or anything, so they can goof off and make a bit of a mess together. Chances are Beel will eat the ingredients to whatever they’re making anyway so... 😅

A lot of lingering touches and just being close to each other as they go. He might want to hold their waist while they stir or they end up feeding each other in cutesy ways... Really it’s a ridiculously wholesome time.

At one point a food fight may break out and they'll cover themselves in flour, tomato sauce, or some other kind of messy food substance...

Careful, MC. Whatever they get covered in will likely only make them look more delicious to him and he might want to "clean them off".... They'll need to take that out of the kitchen, though, like what if someone needs a snack??

Belphegor

The reigning King of Lazy Days. Take notes, MC, for you are watching the Master at work...

Sleeping in and cuddling is a must. He will not let them leave the bed all morning for anything less than a Category Four Emergency (i.e. “I’m going to starve to death” or “I really gotta go piss”). He will pin them under his sleeping body if he has to!

Once they’ve thoroughly missed breakfast and half past noon rolls around he might call in takeout from Hell’s Kitchen for them to eat in the attic room. Expect some cheeky conversation, probably jokes at the expense of his brothers. Cuddling is still absolutely happening, of course, they cannot shake him off.

May borrow an anime from Levi to watch while they snuggle on the couch. He has all the best blankets in the House so they will be neither cold nor uncomfortable throughout.

His hands get a little grabby during these kinds of cuddle sessions, especially during tense moments in the show because he likes to give them a little jolt to make them yelp, the jerk... 😖

If he manages to not drift off during the show (flip a coin on that chance) the night will end in the planetarium, backs on a pile of blankets while they draw pictures in the stars… All hail the King. 😏

[kiribaku-queen]

Could we please have an insecure!reader x Bokuto! (Also Todoroki x reader but separately if that’s okay?) where she starts to slowly starts to compare herself to all the fangirls and the girls that confess to them? So she slowly starts to distance herself, then meets up with then to break up. But when she says she wants to break up the boys are like “do you not love me anymore, what happened” then she basically goes on a spiel about how much better he would be with one the fangirls and just straight up says she looks like the trash but of course she still loves him. So then the boys reassure her that she’s the only one he wants and that she is perfect and blah blah blah and it’s just a nice happy ending basically :)

It’s Always Been You

Pairing: Bokuto x reader

Angst, Fluff

Word count: 3.1K

A/N: I’M BACK! I’m starting to get back into the groove of things while juggling my work but hopefully, I’ll be able to start that new series soon! Let me tell yall, when I finished plotting out and detailing everything I want to happen in this series, it was 11 pages long.... like what?

Anyway, I love love loved this prompt. It actually made me feel sad inside. I hope it wasn’t too rushed. Also, I just wanted to do Bokuto since I have a lot on my plate, writing wise so i hope that is okay! Thank you to whoever sent this in and I hope you are satisfied with this! Happy reading! (if you want to know more about my next series, DM me! I really want to talk about it LOL)

“Kotarou-kun!” you bellowed your boyfriend’s name from the stands. You would always go to Bokuto’s volleyball practice whenever you could. You had your own club activities so you couldn’t always be there to cheer him on. But when you would, Bokuto would be jumping with joy, trying new moves just to impress you. You were already impressed with the achievements he made this past year, one being the top 5 spikers in all of Japan. But he somehow still thinks that there’s more wow factor in him for you. When Bokuto hears his name fall from your lips, he automatically whips his head and gives you the widest smile.

“(y/n)!” he sings your name, waving both hands in the air. Bokuto was so distracted by you that he didn’t see that ball coming straight for him. Luckily, it missed him but just a hair. But now his team was upset that they just lost a point thanks to him. Thank god this was just practice and not an actual game. You’d never live that one down. You could see Bokuto rubbing the back of his head, embarrassed, as his team continued to scold him to pay attention.

Spike after spike after spike after spike, you were amazing at how many times Bokuto could spike the ball down without getting tired. If that was you, you would surely break both your ankles. You leaned on the railing, admiring how hardworking and how much effort he put in his sport. You’ve never met anyone more dedicated than the man who was dominating the court by just standing there.

“This one’s for…” Bokuto starts as he jumps in the air with exceptional form. You smile fondly because you know what’s about to happen. “(Y/N)!!!” he dedicates his spike to you, yelling with his whole chest and smacks the ball on the other side of the court. With the widest smile and a big thumbs up, Bokuto faces you after his great feat. His teammates clearly embarrassed with his antics. It’s practice, for crying out loud. But Bokuto didn’t care what anyone else thought. He was going to shower you with love and affection to show everyone just who captured his heart.

You giggle to yourself. You loved this side of Bokuto. In the beginning of your relationship, you admit that it was embarrassing. He was just so extra with his affection that you didn’t know how to take it. But day by day, you learned to accept and love all the things he does for you. His smile, his laugh, his iconic ‘hey, hey, hey’ line, and even when he dedicates certain moves to you. But you weren’t the only one to admired him. No, his fangirls were also in love with that. Speaking of fangirls…

When practice was over, you made your way down the bleachers and over to your boyfriend, but when the team came into sight, Bokuto was already surrounded by a herd of fangirls.

“Bokuto-san, you were super cool today!”

“Can you show me how to play?”

“Are you thirsty? Here, I bought you some water!”

“Do you need a towel?”

“Can we feel your muscles?”

Bokuto looked uncomfortable, to say the least. You stayed behind the crowd of girls, giving him some space with his fans. He sees you immediately and gives you an apologetic look. You shake your head, insinuating that it was okay. Because it honestly was. You can’t be mad at him for having adoring fans. It was natural if he was going to play professionally. And this is nothing if he was to really play on a pro volleyball team. So you could take it. Bokuto continues to interact with the girls while to watch them, waiting until he’s ready to leave.

You could see him trying to make his way through the crowd to get to you, but surprisingly, his fans were pretty strong. They refused to let him leave, no matter how many times he said he had to go. But again, you were willing to be patient.

“Look, ladies. I’d love to stay and talk, but I have someone waiting on me,” Bokuto tried one more time and pointed in your direction. All their heads whipped around to you, not looking too happy. Their stares burned at you, scaring you a bit at how vicious they could look. With them distracted, Bokuto was able to slip out of their circle and by your side.

“Shall we go?” he looked down at you, love back in his eyes. You nod and Bokuto automatically wraps his hand around your shoulders, leading you out of the court.

As you pass by the group of girls who were still staring daggers at you, you heard their whispers. You weren’t sure if they were saying it on purpose or if it was because it was the truth, but they were speaking loud enough for you to overhear.

“What does he see in her?”

“Do you see her bare face? Does she not care that she looks homeless?”

“It’s because her face is bumpy, so if she wore makeup it would look cakey.”

“No, even if she did wear makeup, it would look so bad because she doesn’t know how to put it on.”

“God, she’s so boring!”

“Her hair isn’t even done.”

“It’s like she purposely trying be a loser.”

“And do you see how her rolls are spilling out of her shirt? Embarrassing!”

You tightened your grip on your skirt. Were they really talking about you? The entire time Bokuto was walking you home, you were looking down and thought about all those comments that they made. Mean as they were, maybe they were right? You didn’t wear any jewelry. It would only get in the way. You don’t do your hair, but you didn’t think it was that messy. You liked it the way it was. No, you don’t wear makeup. Not only do you not have time in the morning, but you only use it for special occasions. Fat? Maybe you were putting on a few pounds, but you and Bokuto like to eat. It’s his fault that you look bigger than normal. Is this what people think about you? Is this was people say behind your back? You looked down at your stomach and held it shyly. Thinking about those comments just made you upset. But did Bokuto think that way? You look up at him and he’s all happy like normal. He hasn’t said that you should change anything, but maybe that’s just him being polite. But that was going to change.

After dropping you off, you went straight to your room and dug up everything you could find: makeup, clothes, jewelry, accessories, curling iron, straightener. You put everything on your counter and got to work. You were going to look pretty for once.

First, you applied your makeup. Dramatic or subtle? What do most of the girls wear at school? After a quick search, subtle it is. You admit, you weren’t the best at makeup, but it’s not like you’ve never put it on before. You just needed a little practice and this was a good opportunity. After maybe 30 minutes of applying what you thought looked like good makeup skills, you moved onto the hair. You tried something that you normally never do. Up or down? Curly or straight? Extensions or nah? God, so many options. So again, you looked at what the other girls were doing. Looking back in the mirror, you smiled at yourself. Not too bad, if you do say so yourself! You were going to wake up early tomorrow and do exactly this. Bokuto was in for a big surprise.

A big surprise, he was. Bokuto waited outside your house like he did every day. You were running a little late but he didn’t mind waiting.

“Sorry I’m late. I was doing something real quick!” you announced and presented yourself in front of your boyfriend. As soon as Bokuto laid eyes on you, he felt his heart fly out of his chest and then back again because he had to be alive to see how stunning you looked. His mouth flew open but he couldn’t form any words. His eyes grew as wide as saucers and looked up and down. He didn’t want this picture of you out of his mind.

As shocked as Bokuto was, you didn’t take his reaction the right way. Did he not like it? Why wasn’t he saying anything? You know that your look might be different than normal, but he acts like you’re a totally different person. The longer that he stared at you, the more ridiculous you looked. But what were you going to do now? It was too late to change and you were going to be late to school.

“Let’s go!” you urged, hooking your arms together and pulled him along to walk with you. You acted like his reaction didn’t affect you, but inside you were disappointed.

As the day went on, you couldn’t help but feel subconscious about your new look. Your friends said that they loved the new you, but Bokuto’s opinion mattered the most to you. Because you knew that he would tell you the truth no matter what.

In between classes, you look either go to the bathroom or look at your phone, wherever there was a mirror so that you could look at yourself. Your make up started melting and fading away, your hair wasn’t as kept like this morning. Slowly, your new look made you look like a clown. And the more you looked, the more you started to see your flaws. Now you could understand what those girls were saying. Fuck.

Tears welled in your eyes that you rubbed away the tears. But in the process of doing that, you wiped off the makeup that you forgot you had on, the makeup that took you so long to do. It all smeared across your eyes and that made you cry even more. Now you were forced to take your makeup off. You turned on the tap and rubbed all the foundation, the eye shadow, the blush, and the lipstick away. There, your ugly bare face was back.

Since you were doing that, might as well fix your hair. Pulling your hair all the way back, you put it into a bun. You stared at yourself in the mirror again. Homeless. Ugly. Bare faced. Fat. You could see it all. The realization hit you like a ton of bricks and you began to cry uncontrollably. God, you felt so embarrassed with yourself.

Bokuto immediately saw the difference in appearance when he saw you at the end of the day. Your shoulders were slouched over, your head was hung low, not to mention that your new look disappeared.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Bokuto said softly. “What happened to your new look?”

“Oh,” you jolted up. His concerned gaze made you feel uncomfortable and even more insecure about your looks. “It was bothering me, so I took it off.” You lied. And it was a good lie because he believed it without a second thought.

“If it bothers you, maybe you shouldn’t wear it to school,” Bokuto suggested. Oh, so he’s basically saying that you shouldn’t dress like that because he’s embarrassed by you. Your confidence levels just reached a new low.

“Yeah, I probably won’t,” you say discouraged and quickly walk away from him. Bokuto didn’t know what to say. Why did you look so sad?

The next day, you transitioned back into your normal outfit. You felt more comfortable but your body and the way you looked to other people was always in the back of your mind. You became so distracted by the idea that you began to distance yourself from the volleyball player.

You went to his practices but didn’t make yourself known anymore. Little by little each day, you let the fangirls take over. So he’ll spend most of his time with them instead of you. It was probably better like that anyway. The more you looked at them from afar, the more you could see the difference between you guys. You were just an ordinary student with an ordinary life with ordinary looks. There really wasn’t anything special about you. There wasn’t anything about you that stood out. Compared to these girls that were flocking all around your boyfriend? Beautiful girls. Their looks were out of this world. You could never compare to them. So why was Bokuto with you when he could have anyone he wanted? He was popular, athletic, goofy, strong. Every girl’s dream guy. It doesn’t make sense that you, a plain girl, was his girlfriend. A match that probably wasn’t meant to be.

Bokuto noticed that you were being distant. Eventually, you stopped going to his practices. Every day, he would look for you in the stands but you were never there. Whenever he has free time and wanted to spend it with you, you were also too busy or had some place to be. He never saw you anymore. You didn’t even want to walk to and from school together. He couldn’t fathom what he did wrong. He thought he treated you well. He thought that he did his best to show you that you mean so much to him. So what was going on?

Bokuto stopped by your house one day after practice because does not like how you were avoiding him. He was going to figure out what was wrong whether you continue to avoid him or not.

“Oh, is (y/n) home?” Bokuto asked your mother who opened the door instead of you. Strange, were you not home yet?

“Oh, Kotarou. No, she isn’t home yet. Would you like to wait inside? She should be home any minute now,” your mother informed, opening the door a little wider to let him in. He gladly accepted and stepped into your welcoming home. Your mother let Bokuto make himself at home and that is just what he did. He went to your room and waited for you there.

When you arrived home, you greeted your mother with a kiss on her cheek and headed for your room when your mom stopped you in your tracks.

“Oh, your boyfriend is waiting for you upstairs, dear,” your mother said. You completely froze. Your heart started to race and cold sweat ran down your back. Shit. What was he doing here? After all this time, you thought you were doing well by keeping your distance but now he shows up out of nowhere, catching you off guard. Reluctantly, you opened the door to your bedroom and sure enough, Bokuto was standing there not looking too happy.

“Kotarou,” you say but didn’t have a clue what to say after. What could you say?

“(y/n),” Bokuto sighs and walks to you. But you backup, making Bokuto frustrated. “What is going on with you? First, you don’t come to my practices. Then, you stop talking to me. You don’t even want to walk with me to school anymore. Did I do something wrong? Because if I did, just tell me so I can fix it.”

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” you admit, but now Bokuto was confused.

“If I didn’t do anything, then why are you acting like towards me? Are you mad at me?”

“No.”

“Did I say something that hurt your feelings?”

“No.” Question after question, you kept saying no. Everything that he thought he did, you answered no. You weren’t giving him any information to help him understand what was going on. All you did was stand by the door, head down and you fiddled with your fingers. Bokuto was beyond frustrated. He put his hands on his waist and let out a deep sigh.

You couldn’t see him but you could definitely hear him and feel the ambiance in the room. He was upset at you. He had every right to. But now his reaction made you feel even worse about yourself that you just wanted to cuddle up in bed and literally just forget about everything. Maybe today was the today.

“If you’re so frustrated, why don’t you just break up with me?” you opened your mouth to say. Silence.

All of Bokuto’s anger and frustration dissipated and was replaced with hurt and betrayal. The moment those words left your mouth, his stomach dropped and the pain in his heart hit him so deep that he had to take a step back.

“Baby, why are you saying that?” his voice softens in the most pained toned you’ve ever heard. Guilt starts to eat at you for saying that, but cat’s out of the bag now. You don’t answer him and continue to stare down at your feet. He gets closer and you allow him to take your hands in his.

“I’m just trying to understand. Why are avoiding me? Why are you saying that we should break up?” he asks, trying to look you in the eyes. You shrug your shoulders but don’t say anything. But that’s okay because Bokuto was going to give you all the time in the world that you need to answer back. And it took you a long while before you should say anything.

“It’s because… I think you can find someone better,” you mumble in a whisper.

“Why do you think that?” Bokuto matches your tone. You shrug again.

“I don’t know. I see all those girls around you. And they’re all so pretty and thin. I’m nothing compared to them. And then I started thinking, and… you’re way out of my league. You could do so much better if you were with someone like-”

“Do you love me?” Bokuto cuts you off.

“Yeah,” you answer anyway. “But I don’t think we look good as a couple.”

“I don’t care what other people think. I love you and only you. I picked you. Every practice, every game, I’m looking for you. Whenever I see you, my day brightens up. When I see you, I feel like I can play my best. You are my strength and my motivation. You are the only one that sticks out in a crowd full of people. You’re perfect and don’t let those other people tell you otherwise.” Bokuto lifts your chin up so that you could tell that he meant every word. Your lower lip forms a pout and silent tears streaked your cheeks. His face softens at you. Gosh, even when you’re crying and snot is coming out of your nose, you’re still so cute to him.

“You really mean it?” you cry.

“Yes, you cry baby. Now come here,” he scoops you up and lays you on the bed to cuddle. “So don’t you ever say that to me again, or I’ll quit volleyball.” He threatens. Upon hearing that, you freak out and convince that he shouldn’t. He’s laughing out loud and kisses you all over.

“Ah, I love you too much,” he says content and you cuddle for the rest of the evening.

[theoreticslut]

The Truth that you Deny // Part 1

pairing: fred weasley x reader x george weasley

word count: 2,644

warnings: none, fluff

A/N: apologies that this is a day late! I wasn’t feeling great yesterday, but i’m posting it now so I hope you all like it! also, i don’t have a lot of followers yet, but if you like my wrting and/or just this imagine maybe I could start a taglist?? let me know what you think!

“I don’t know what to do anymore, steph. I don’t understand this at all.” You pout, sighing as you lean back in your chair.

You’d been studying for hours now, which is the last thing you wanted to do on a Saturday, and the only thing you’ve managed to do is waste time and get maybe one or two questions/paragraphs done on a number of assignments. You had yet to actually complete anything.

Stephanie looks at you frowning, more than just a little bit annoyed with you.

“Maybe it’d help if you didn’t drift off thinking about your little crush every five minutes.”

“Who?” You ask, having not been paying attention.

“You’re seriously going to play dumb right now? We both know who you’re constantly thinking about.”

“I honestly don’t.”

“Oh come on, y/n. You so totally have a crush on the twins!”

“I do not. Why would you even think that?” You scoff. You, Stephanie, Katie, Lee, and the twins have been friends since first year and you had never once mentioned having a crush on either of them. Sure you might’ve been quiet and distracted around them sometimes, but you get stressed about school so easily. You spend most of the time worrying about grades and whether you know the material. In fact, while the twins were amazing friends, their pranks often drove you insane.

“Why would I think that? Y/n, have you seen the way you look at them? Do you even realize what you say to them?”

“What do you mean? I don’t say anything different to them than I do you.”

“Uh, yeah. You do. You are way nicer to them then you are me or katie or Lee. Remember when gryffindor won the last quidditch game and you couldn’t tell Fred and George enough how well they did?”

“Well they did. I was just saying the truth. It was a really good game.” You defend, not liking how steph seems to be grilling you for a yes.

“Okay, well then how about when either of them show up you’re suddenly ten times happier then you were beforehand?” She looks at you smugly like she knows she’s correct.

“Afternoon, ladies.” Fred greets as both him and George suddenly appear and sit down at the table you and Steph were studying at.

“Hey guys,” you smile catching the knowing look Steph throws your way. You roll your eyes at her and turn your attention to the twins. She can believe whatever she pleases, but it still doesn’t make it true.

“Are you girls studying?” George asks, a hint of disgust in his tone.

“Trying to. I’m not having much luck.” You sigh, throwing a playful glare at your best friend which doesn’t go unnoticed by any of them.

“Well then how about you put it away and come play a game of quidditch with us?” Fred asks, hope glowing on his face.

You sigh as frown takes hold of your face. If only you had gotten all this done already, or even better, didn’t have it to begin with.

“I’d love too, but I really need to get all of this done. I can’t put it off any longer.”

Both twins join as you pout. You know that they know that you’d absolutely love to play. While you hadn’t made the team (because you never tried out), you loved playing and were even really good at it.

You had surprised the twins over summer break two years ago when you visited the burrow for a week. Obviously since all the Weasley’s love playing quidditch and it’s almost a daily occurrence, it was bound to happen that they’d play a game while you were there. However, they really needed another player so you joined in and gave them all a run for their money (if only you had placed bets beforehand). Since then, the twins love asking you to play because you’re actually a bit of competition to them.

“Not even one game?” George asks, leaning towards you ever so slightly to try to catch your eye.

“Guys, I...no.” You sigh, frustrated that the professors gave you this much homework to begin with.

“Honestly, I’d love to play. You both know that, but I really need to get this done. Maybe tomorrow?” You ask.

“How about you put this up for awhile, come and play a game of quidditch with us, and then you finish this tomorrow?” Fred asks, looking to persuade you.

“You’re too persuasive for your own good, Weasley. As much as I’d love to play, I really ought to get this done or else I’m just going to be worrying about it tomorrow.”

“What if we study with you?” George asks, catching all of your attention.

“You two studying? That’s a really good one, George.” Stephanie replies, saying exactly what you were thinking.

“I’m serious,” he chuckles. “Believe it or not.”

“If we were to study with you later tonight and tomorrow, would you come and play a game with us?” He asks, giving his best impression of a sad puppy dog.

“George, I can’t. I’m already so behind and I want to make sure that I don’t fail. We do have the O.W.L.s this year you kn-“

“Pleeeeeease.” Both the twins beg, cutting you off.

“No, I-“

“Pleeeeeease.”

“It’s just one game, I promise.” George pouts.

You look over at Steph who’s only smirking and shaking her head at you, knowing you can’t say no. You hate that you can tell what’s she’s thinking with just that expression; ‘this is your problem, sweetie. Your the one that likes them.’

You roll your eyes at her again, mentally thanking her for all the help and give in.

“Fine! Fine. I’ll play one game.” you agree.

“Yes!” The twins shout simultaneously, high-fiving across the table.

“But you both better keep your word and study with me or else I won’t play with you again.” you threaten, even though it sounds empty even to you.

“Of course we will, gorgeous. We wouldn’t want our little lion cub upset.” Fred smirked, winking at you and George as you groan at their nickname for you.

Another lovely thing that’s come out of your few visits to the burrow. After another one of your empty threats, George laughed and made the point that even though you try to come off strong and threatening, you often fall short and sound like a child who just doesn’t quite have the bite to back up the bark. And since you’re all in gryffindor together, they made the connection to a lion cub.

Since then, it’s been expanded upon given different circumstances. Like when you were standing up for Ron one time, it changed to mumma lion. Then another time when you were confronting a girl that had been spreading rumors about one of your other friends, the twins joked about how you had become a lioness. So while it’s not your favourite nickname, it isn’t the worst one that you could’ve gotten and it’s only ever used by Fred, George and occasionally their family.

“You better watch it, Freddie.” You warned as you started packing up your books.

~.~

“And that’s another point for Y/n’s team!”

“Bloody hell, y/n. Give us a chance would you.” Fred nearly begs, rubbing his side where you may have just hit a bludger into him.

“You guys begged me to play and you both know that I don’t play nice.” You retort, not feeling any remorse.

You’d deny it if someone pointed it out, but the truth is you are extremely competitive, no matter the situation as long as it interests you. Quidditch? Bloody hell, you’d think your life depended on you winning. Proving to Lee that you could out drink him? You better have a full bottle of replenishing potion because you are going to have one of the worst hangovers of your life. Basically, if you were presented any sort of challenge, you tackled it head-on.

“He’s just upset that he’s losing. You know how he is.” George says, winking at you as his brother grumbles to himself.

“Want to play once more and whoever gets the point wins? I’m getting awfully tired.”

“Sounds good to me.” George nods.

“Yeah, let’s do it.” Fred grumbled as he and George fly back to their positions.

~.~

“Oh bloody hell” you grumble as you wake up and stretch. You don’t often play quidditch, therefore you’re a little out of shape and currently very sore.

That doesn’t even take into account that you stayed up much later than you should have last night trying to get something done.

You groan as you roll over to look at the clock to find it to be 8 AM. You’d certainly love to sleep in a bit more, but if you didn’t get a move on you’d miss breakfast and that’s the last thing you need to do if you were going to be studying with Fred and George today. You loved them, but boy could they get in your nerves sometimes. You didn’t need to be hungry on top of it.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you change into a pair of leggings and an oversized black sweater that tends to hang off one shoulder. You pull on your favourite pair of black heeled boots and move onto brushing your hair and apply the minimal makeup you’re comfortable wearing.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty. You look like your ready to spend the day studying with Fred and George.” Steph teased as you sit down next to her.

“Let me eat first, and hopefully get a cup of coffee. Then you can taunt me all you want.” You say, rubbing at your eyes as you’re not quite awake yet.

“Take my fun away.” She pouts, picking up a bite of pancake with her fork.

“But seriously, how are you feeling about today? You get to spend ALL the quality time with your boys as you like.”

She smiles, staring at you to see your reaction.

“I don’t like them like you’re implying, Stephanie. How many times do I have to tell you?” You huff, taking a sip of your much needed cup of coffee.

“Yeah-huh. You keep telling yourself that. Eventually you’ll believe it.”

“Maybe eventually you’ll get the hint.” You grumble, moodily stabbing a piece of pancake yourself.

“Someone seems to be in a mood this morning.” Fred states as he and George sit down across from you two.

You send a glare over at him as you continue eating your breakfast.

“Definitely. What have we missed already this morning?” George asks, looking from you to Stephanie as he gets himself a cup of coffee.

“Someone is denying that she has feelings for a couple certain people when it’s glaringly obvious.” Stephanie states.

“Ooh, who does our little lion cub have a crush on? Anyone we know?” Fred asks, not missing the opportunity to try and tease you.

“Steph just needs to learn how to take no as an answer. I’ve already told her that I do not, in fact, have feelings for them, but she can’t seem to accept that.”

“Again, who are they?” Fred asks.

“Don’t worry about it because I don’t like them. And even if I did I’m positive neither of them would see me in the same way so it really doesn’t matter whatever way you try to look at it.” You rant, stabbing your fork into some scrambled eggs.

You notice Fred and George share a look that can only be translated to ‘well she isn’t having a good morning. Yikes.’ You huff as you continue eating in silence, feeling all three of them look at you.

~.~

“Y/n, what does this even mean?” Fred asks exasperatedly.

“What does what mean, Freddie?” You sigh, looking up from your own parchment where you are attempting to write a paper for Potions.

“I don’t know. I can’t make sense of any of it anymore.” He pouts.

“Well then I don’t know how to help you.” You say, watching as he pouts in frustration.

“What about you, Georgie? How is everything going?” You ask, looking over to find George staring down at his parchment.

“Uh, decent?” He asks, seeming awfully confused.

“You two are some of the worst study partners around. How have you made it this far, honestly?” You chuckle, leaning back in your chair.

“Our charm and wit.” George jokingly says, winking at you which only causes you to laugh a bit more.

“Why don’t we take a break for awhile? We’ve been working at this for nearly two hours now.” Fred sighs.

You look over at him and give him a small smile. You honestly can’t believe that both of them came along with you and haven’t done much complaining until now. Neither of these boys liked their homework much, in fact it was rare to find them ever working on it.

“You two can if you’d like. I’m nearly done with this paper and if I stop now I’ll forget what I was doing.”

“Then finish the paper and then we’ll all take a break.” He smiles.

I shake my head as I smile back at him and continue working on my potions paper. I just need another paragraph or two to finish it off and then I’m early done with all of my work.

“There, done.” I say as I set my quill down. I lean back to find both of the twins staring at me.

“What?”

“Who were you and Stephanie talking about over breakfast?” Fred asks, a smile on his lips yet he sounds fairly serious, not trying to joke around at all.

“Back to this again?” You sigh, tossing your head back in annoyance. “It doesn’t matter, Freddie. Let it go.”

“C’mon y/n, we’re just curious. Maybe we could help you find out if they like you back.” George offers.

“Yeah, you’re one of our best friends, y/n and you deserve to be with someone that makes you happy.” Freddie says, looking directly at you.

“Besides, you haven’t ever been with anyone at all have you? Like not even just dating?” He adds on.

“No, and I don’t really care to. I’ve got too many other things on my mind.” You say, still ignoring the main question at hand here.

“You have no interest at all? Really?” Fred asks knowing otherwise. You know both of them have heard you talk about guys before with the other girls and you all know that you’ve said not once, but multiple times, that you can’t wait to have a boyfriend to cuddle with and to just love.

“Can’t we just drop it? I really don’t want to talk about it. Steph’s made it into a bigger deal than it needs to be.”

You look at George for some sort of support. You know he and his brother are very much alike, but he’s always been a bit

more considerate when it comes to things people don’t feel like sharing.

“If it’s not a big deal, then why don’t you just tell us? No big deal, no harm in telling right?” George asks, doing the complete opposite of what you were hoping.

“I don’t want to talk about it because if I do I’m afraid...well, I’m afraid it’ll make everything more complicated that what I want to deal with.” You truthfully state.

Both twins watch you as you go silent again, not meeting either of their gazes. If they had known it was this difficult for you to acknowledge, then they wouldn’t have pushed it so much, but here you all were; past that line that pushes your relationship with each other into uncharted territory. You guys don’t share your emotions with each other like this, so now that you have, where do you all go from here?