#why are there so many nugs?

[msunitedstatesjames]

Rating Veilguard companions based on their living spaces:

I'm coming up on the last handful of missions in Veilguard, and I noticed that I hadn't really spent all that much time looking around the rooms of the companions. I pretty much burst in and out, only staying long enough to hear whatever they have to say. So I decided to do a more in depth look. (There will be some moderate spoilers ahead if you haven't worked your way through most of Emmrich's companion quests.)

7. Lucanis

Okay, we've all heard the reasoning behind Lucanis's room of choice, but this "room" is still sad. As awesome as access to the kitchens is, this is just a straight up trauma room. That's without even mentioning the perilous number of candles near the bed of such a haunted (literally) man. But, at least he has somewhere to sleep, unlike some others, and he has plenty of supplies of citrus fruit, so scurvy won't be an issue.

6. Emmrich

I hate to rank this one so low. Not only is Emmrich my romance of choice, but I'm a huge book lover in real life, and I love this aesthetic. But this man doesn't have anywhere to sleep! He's in his 50s and has nowhere to sleep! Much has been said about where he might be sleeping every night. Does he sleep on the corpse slab? Does he sleep in the big red chair? Does he curl up in front of the fire like a hound? If he was 19 maybe those options would be feasible. But I'm in my early thirties in real life, and the idea of spending a night on a hard floor/slab is already unbearable to imagine, and sitting upright all night is only done if I'm so ill I can't do otherwise. No bed is just unforgiveable. Also, he's stuck with the skull and spirit of his former friend/rival seemingly listening in on everything and critiquing him constantly. Imagine just minding your own business and having a skull call you "moldering" while implying you're too old to be with your partner of choice. On the other hand, I envy the shelf space, the spiral staircase, and the gorgeous balcony view.

5. Taash

Maybe Taash likes having a gloomy room, I don't know. But sometimes this room looks like a straight up dungeon. Also, though there is some good functionality for training and such, the room lacks daily functionality due to the sheer amount of stuff everywhere. I get that Taash is a Lord of Fortune and treasure hunting is like their whole thing, but like, does Taash really need multiple huge stacks of silver bars and random sheaths of fabric here in their temporary Fade bedroom? What's the point of having so many tables if none of them have any more room to set things on when you actually need to? Some of these rugs are fantastic though. And Taash is one of only two companions with a real bed, so that counts for a lot.

4. Bellara

This is more workshop than bedroom, which I guess suits Bellara well enough. But there's a couple of issues here. First, there's some pretty spiky tools a little close to her cot. God forbid she has a nightmare and jerks upright out of a deep sleep, she'd get slightly impaled. Also, imagine trying to sleep with the smug face of the Archive looking out at you all the time. And don't forget the room is just full to bursting with mirrors. That seems like a confusing, hazardous, headache inducing horror. There is some cool elven decor though.

3. Neve

Neve has a pretty tiny space compared to some of the others, but I guess it's fitting for a noir style detective. She does have a bed, though it's only a less than stellar cot. She also has a bunch of wisps stealing her stuff all the time. But she has a beautiful view, more privacy than some of the others, and a nice desk, which is essential to a detective. And in the end this room is kind of gorgeous.

2. Harding

This whole place is fabulous. The plants are amazing. The magic butterflies are enchanting. The giant ceiling flower is beautiful. Harding doesn't have a real bed, but she has a canopy and a bedroll, which she's probably pretty comfortable in by now after 10+ years of being a scout. I also like that this room grows and transforms over the course of the story. Personally, I think this is the most aesthetically pleasing of the rooms, and I imagine there's some crickets in there to give you that peaceful summer evening soundtrack.

1.Davrin

Davrin's biggest advantage is the simple fact that he has a private sleeping area with a real bed. No one else has both of those things. On top of that, it's a functional space for he and Assan. It's open and has a nice perch for easy Assan access. It has shelf space for his carvings. He has lots of cool knick knacks. He has lots of natural light and a great view. But after looking more closely at his space I almost dropped him down a spot for one reason. NUGS. Did I miss a dialogue line about his love for nugs? Because there's A LOT of nug memorabilia in this place. There's a taxidermy nug with a face only Leliana could love. There's little nug carvings. There's bigger nug carvings. There's drawings of nug anatomy. I don't know if I'm more freaked out by the idea that Davrin brought them or the idea that Solas left them. Still, he does have a cozy fireplace/chair combo, as long as you don't mind being watched by the empty stares of a thousand lifeless nugs.

[wardencommanderrodimiss]

The council will decide your fate.

[felassan]

Thoughts on the new images of the Lighthouse Part 2. DA:TV spoilers under cut.

[Link to Part 1]

I ran out of image allowance on the first post so I'm putting the rest here in this post.

I think maybe this is Davrin's room. on the righthand side, there are floor-to-ceiling windows (one part of them even has curtains) or even the whole wall cut away - this would be perfect for allowing Assan to fly out and fly in as he came and went. ^^ Corinne Busche said this about Davrin's room:

"When you see Davrin’s room, you’d certainly assume he’d be up watching the sunrise with that view. If only it weren’t in the fade"

with windows so big or a wall cutaway, you can see why Davrin's room is said to have an amazing view like this. :D

On the right hand side of the room is lots of things you'd need if you were into wood-carving/whittling, which is implied for Davrin by what he's doing in the Lighthouse group shot: stool, workbench/table with shelf space beneath, tools, a log of wood on the bench, what looks like a saw, piles of more logs, an axe to chop them with, a stump to split them on. on the workbench are some of his finished projects: a carved nug, a carved dragon, and there are other wooden carvings he's made elsewhere in the room. on the floor nearby it's scattered with I guess wood shavings/bits of broken wood from chopping wood.

Some more carvings Davrin has made - he makes so many :) here we have nugs and an adorable bear design. sidequest to help Davrin open an Etsy store.

Another standout thing about Davrin's room is all the monster stuff. of course, he's a monster hunter. Over the fireplace is the skull of a large creature. fixed to or hung from the ceiling are the bones that make up a large creature's spine (they remind me of dinosaur bones in museums). left of his armchair near a curtain is another big skull on the wall. there's a collection of horns hung from the ceiling and more smaller skulls on the wall behind that. other items along the monster-hunter theme are bits of bone(?) or horn(?) or something on his desk, annotated anatomical illustrations of different types of creatures (which ties into how he sees it as a specific skillset to hone, how he learns monsters' weaknesses to be able to exploit them etc), and the various glass containers - some of these look to contain monster parts (specimens or trophies?). Witcher vibes!

Nug diagram and a horn-like or tentacle-y specimen in the green jar.

Assan has been scratching the back of Davrin's chair like a cat hhh. can we gift them a griffon-sized scratching post pls? and next to Davrin's comfy chair by the fire is a rug or sheepskin kinda thing of some sort on the ground - for Assan to lie on when Davrin sits in the chair? ^^ how lovely. it looks like there's also a stick, bone or chew for him on the ground near that. maybe that's Davrin's outside coat draped over the top of the chair. and btew is the nug to the right of the fireplace a carved wood nug statue or a stuffed dead nug hh?

Halla statue? ^^

Right: Another halla statue? Center: Another? Left: Animal diagram with drawings of could be a halla (top) and a set of halla horns (the biggest horns in the center).

There's a halla statue in Bellara's room and one in Taash's room too, but if these things in Davrin's are all hallas, that's a lot of halla things in one. Coincidence, monster-hunting related (as they're animals), Dalish-related, or Ghil-related? it's been wondered if Davrin's vallaslin correspond to Ghilan'nain (which would add a layer to the story of 1. an elf encounters not just one of their gods but the one whose vallaslin theirs corresponds to, 2. a monster-hunter, as she's mother of monsters, and 3. a Grey Warden monster-hunter who just may have been killing the mutated darkspawn and mutated monsters emerging from Ghil's monster-pools lately).

I wonder if the silver chalices around the room are meant to evoke the Joining cup?

What are these green things at the window?

Davrin's room has some empty shelves. I noticed some empty shelves in Emmrich's room too. I'm assuming this is where companions will display the personalized gifts we can get to give them, like was mentioned in the second dev Q&A:

Corinne Busche: "Out in the world, and there in various locations, so you kinda stumble upon them, you can buy a gift that is very personal to any one of the companions, and then you go, you turn that into them, you give it to them, they have a nice acknowledgement. And then, the thing that’s just like so sweet about it, we’ve talked about how the companion rooms evolve over time, but if you go and get them one of these, like, very personalized gifts, they’ll display it in their room. Like it doesn’t go into some stats void. It’s actually on display."

(if so, I'm assuming there's such a place in each room not just their two ones; just, those places may be out of frame due to angle in the other images).

Outside of the room you can see more ruined ancient elven Fadey architecture.

Process of elimination leaves this as Lucanis' room. Lucanis?? 😭😭 in what looks like the kitchen storage room?? if you need a snack in the middle of the night do you either wake Lucanis up when you sneak in (he'd hear you with his senses) or encounter him still up because he can't sleep well that night in the corner with his demonic aura?

it's dark - check, dude who "hides in the dark". he doesn't appear to have many belongings or personal effects - check, dude who is practical and pragmatic. he's a lot less ostentatious than Illario.

there's food everywhere, including fresh produce and a returning Dragon Age classic, giant cheese wheels. :') likely there is more food in the sacks, baskets, crates/boxes and pots. sleeping here reminds me of what was said about Lucanis being one of the team cooks in the second dev Q&A:

John Epler: "Bellara and Lucanis actually end up being, essentially, the team cooks. Bellara, you know, spending a lot of time out in nature, learning a lot about, you know, different types of cooking, is really big on experimentation, she likes to, you know, try different things. Lucanis comes from the Crows, Lucanis is very big on the finer things, so between the two of them, there’s a point in the story where they basically decide, if we don’t do this, the entire team is going to starve, so let’s just call ourselves the cook, cooks, and make sure that nobody dies of food poisoning, so."

I wonder if the chests contain food, other supplies or Lucanis' belongings.

Another one of these things. There's one in Neve's room and Bellara's too. maybe there's one in each companion room and the other screenshots were just taken from an angle where they can't be seen? again I'm so curious what these are for (or maybe they're just decor).

[Link to Part 1]

[hazbinshusk]

prompt #13: a kiss on the chest combined with a hurt/comfort request from @jx3-xd for the reader comforting husk during a storm when they find him unable to cope thanks to his feline side. 1.6k

Thunder rumbles through the walls of the hotel, and you draw your sweater closer around yourself against the surprising chill the storm has brought with it. Weather in Hell wasn’t exactly pleasant, but at least storms were usually few and far between, even if the risk of lightning strike was so much higher. This is the first storm you’ve experienced since joining the inhabitants of the hotel, and it’s been months now since you moved in.

You sidestep a cackling Niffty as she skitters past with a bucket in his hand, apparently stirred into further excitement by the storm. Charlie and Vaggie are currently assessing the windows that line the front of the hotel, concerned about how they’re holding up against the apple-sized hail now beating against them, and Angel is sprawled across one of the sofas, a trembling Fat Nuggets curled tightly in his lap.

“Shh,” the porn star coos comfortingly, stroking a gloved hand over the piglet’s back. “’s okay, Nugs. It’s just a storm.”

You cast a glance towards the bar as you take a seat on the opposite sofa, surprised to see it empty. “Hey. Where’s Husk?”

“Good question,” Vaggie says dryly as she approaches the two of you, wiping her hands with a rag from the bar. There’s a small puddle of murky water seeping under the front door, and Charlie leaps away from it in alarm, running to collect a mop. “It’d be nice if some of you could help with all this.”

She raises an eyebrow at the two of you expectantly, and Angel holds up the two hands not currently comforting his piglet. You notice then the quivering form of KeeKee underneath the couch. “Sorry, toots. Got my hands full here.”

On cue, thunder sounds again, shaking the windows in their frames. The piglet lets out a frightened squeal, burying himself further against Angel’s stomach. Vaggie turns her attention on you, folding her arms over her chest.

You grimace, fumbling for an excuse. It’s not that you didn’t care, it was just… you only got so many days off, y’know?”

“Why don’t I see if I can track down Husk?” you suggest, jerking your thumb over your shoulder towards the stairs. “You’re… gonna need someone with wings to check the windows on the higher levels.”

“Uh-huh.” Vaggie deadpans dryly, and you pointedly avoid Angel’s eye as he smirks at you before you turn on your heel and hurry back up the stairs.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Husk?” you knock lightly on the door to his room, the sound drowned out by the latest rumble of thunder. You try again, rapping your knuckles more firmly against the wood. “Husk? You in there?”

There’s still no response, but you notice the door isn’t fully closed, swinging in slightly as you knock. You hesitate for a moment uncertainly; you know just how private the bartender is, and entering his room feels like an intrusion, an invasion of his boundaries. Still, the door being open brings the first spike of concern up inside you, and against your better judgement you push the door open slowly.

“Husk?”

The room is depressingly bare, the bed dressed with the hotel bedding and the walls bare of personal decoration. Even the half-open wardrobe seems almost completely empty. If it weren’t for the half-empty whiskey bottle by the bed and the few beaten novels stacked on top of the dresser, you might not have had a sign someone lived in that room at all. You pause long enough to read the titles printed along the spines –And Then There Were None… A Study in Scarlet… Devil in a Blue Dress…

You run your fingers over the embossed letters on one of them before turning back to the rest of the room. No Husk.

“Husk?”

A noise catches your attention and draws it to the bathroom.

“Hey, I’m sorry for busting into your room, but Vaggie’s all stressed out because of the storm and—” you come to a stop as you enter the bathroom, your brow furrowing. “Husk? What’s wrong?”

The cat is squeezed the space between the toilet and the wall, his whole body curled tightly in on itself. Even in the low light cast from his bedroom you can see that he’s shaking, his eyes wide and his fur standing on end. His ears are pinned back tightly against his skull, and you come to a stop as he hisses warningly, low in his throat.

“Woah,” you hold up your hands pacifyingly. “It’s okay. It’s okay, Husk, it’s just me.”

A growl vibrates through him as you take another careful step towards him, hands still raised. He blinks after a minute, brow furrowing.

“Shit…” he breathes, pressing himself further back against the corner of the tiles. Embarrassment floods his features, his claws clutching at the end of his tail. “Shit, I’m sorry, I—”

Another crash of thunder blasts overhead, and you can hear the windows in the main room rattle. Husk yowls, fangs bared, trying to force himself further back into the cramped little space he’s sandwiched himself into. More feathers fall from his wings to litter the floor.

“Woah, okay…” you say reassuringly, and you can see the terror warring with shame on his face. “It’s okay, honey, I get it… you’re okay.”

Husk lets out a sound that’s something akin to a whimper, his eyes squeezed tightly closed. The furrow between his brows is deep, his body quivering against the tiles.

“Just…” you glance over your shoulder, swallowing. “Just give me a minute, okay?”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

You manage to avoid the other residents long enough to make a couple of trips to your own room, collecting armfuls of blankets and pillows and dragging them back to Husk’s quarters. You can still hear him hiss at each rumble of thunder as you tug the doors of his wardrobe open and push the few items hanging to the side.

Arranging the bedding into a nest within the cramped space of the closet takes only minutes, but coaxing Husk out of the bathroom takes much longer, and eventually you just have to make do with climbing into the closet yourself and waiting, humming kind and reassuring words until he finally climbs into the nest beside you, still shaking.

Husk curls in on himself, flinching with the next crash of thunder. You can feel him quivering, feel his fear, and you tug the doors almost all the way closed, until the two of you are wrapped in comforting shadows. Husk relaxes ever so slightly, and its with the next roll of thunder you feel him press into your side.

Wrapping you arm carefully around his shoulders, you let him rest there, stroking your fingertips through the fur between his ears. Husk exhales shakily as you do, and despite the way he still shudders, you can feel his muscles so slowly start to relax.

“’s okay, baby,” you murmur, letting your fingers continue down the back of his neck. Husk hesitates before he wraps an arm around your waist, burying his face against your chest. His wing curls around his shoulder, his tail wrapped tightly around his own ankle. “You’re okay.”

“Fuckin’ embarrassing…” he mutters into your shirt, but you hush him again gently.

“Don’t worry about it,” you reassure him, tucking your chin between his ears. Husk sighs into your chest. “You should see me around heights.”

He hums what could almost be a laugh, the sound broken by his still shaking breath. The two of you stay like that in some kind of limbo, and while he still jerks with each rumble from the sky above, he doesn’t growl or hiss. Instead, you just feel him settle further into your embrace, your fingers still mapping a slow, repetitive path through his fur.

“You didn’t have to do this, doll.” he murmurs after a while, bumping his muzzle up against the underside of your jaw. It makes your heart jump in your chest, and you smile softly.

“Sure, I did.” you tell him. “I wasn’t gonna just leave you alone. Besides, you’re getting me out of helping downstairs.”

Husk hums a broken chuckle, nuzzling deeper against you despite himself. Your face warms as you feel his lips press against your sternum through the thin fabric of your shirt. “Thank you, baby.”

“You’re welcome, Husk.” you say softly, and he shudders as your fingers find the fur at the base of his neck.

“What’s that?”

You follow his gaze down to the book set beside your thigh. You shrug the shoulder he isn’t leaning against. “I wasn’t sure how long a storm like this would last… or if you’d want me to stay. So, I… it’s one of yours.”

He assesses the cover through golden eyes as you lift up The Devil in The Blue Dress. “It’s a good one. Have you read it?”

You shake your head.

“You should.”

A soft smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you feel his nose brush against your sternum again, and you set the book against your opposite knee, opening to the first page. The soft sound of your voice as you begin to read aloud does nothing to drown out the next wave of thunder, but this time, he doesn’t tense or jump, just stays curled comfortably against your side.

“I was surprised to see a white man walk into Joppy’s bar. It’s not just that he was white, but he wore an off-white linen suit and shirt with a Panama straw hat and bone shoes over flashing white silk socks. His skin was smooth and pale with just a few freckles. One lick of strawberry-blonde hair…”

send me a prompt and either husk or blitzø

[fartasticdurge]

A Bone to Pick

Bellara's at it again, with a new serial to tickle your funny bone. But you don't have to believe me, listen to what other fans of the serials have said so far: "Bones, Groans, and Puns Galore!" "Bone-Tickling Humor and Pun-Filled Lore!" "Bone Dry Humor, Pun Wet Wit!"

Watch Rook struggle to navigate her relationship with Emmrich and get romantic advice from the other men in her life.

You can find the rest of her serials here.

Rook was walking towards the kitchen of the Lighthouse, wondering if she could get Lucanis to finally make some desert like he’d promised. Rook hoped she would hang out with Spite while Lucanis whipped something delicious for them and hopefully enough time would have passed to make it socially acceptable to get in the same room with Emmrich. If he wasn’t avoiding her again.

Emmrich had gone to discuss whatever book they were talking about in their stupid book club, so Rook was left to entertain herself for a couple of hours. She wasn’t even sure why he would go in the first place as he would come back talking her ear off about magical and anatomical inaccuracies and how some of the members would react to his suggestions. When he would talk to her, lately, it seemed like he would rather do anything else.

Granted, knowing Emmrich meant that he would likely go into a long description of what the right version would be, and likely everyone wouldn’t even care about the right, to begin with.

Harding almost made Davrin join, given some of the titles they talked about in their silly little meetings, heroic adventurers with gruesome fights and steamy nights. Rook thought it was hilarious how neither of them seemed to notice how they craved stories about people doing what they did. Granted, some of Rook’s companions didn’t have the steamy nights to keep them company, so she supposed, in a way, she could understand where they were coming from.

Rook, however, did have the steamy nights. Well, she used to. Emmrich was busy with many things, and lately, it seemed like he was constantly trying to become busier. Everyone needed some random rune, spell or corpse whispering and if she were honest, it started to bother her how little attention she was getting, but she could hardly get him alone to broach the topic.

More often than not, Rook would walk into his chamber after a long day of killing Antaam and Venatori and whatnot, hoping to let off some steam, only to find anyone from Neve to Lucanis, to Davrin and even Taash ask all sorts of questions about all his fields of expertise.

Rook groaned at the memory of Emmrich practically running off to his book club just moments ago as she reached the doors of the kitchen, finding Davrin and Lucanis laughing with an open bottle on the table. That, at least, was bound to be interesting, considering how awful things stood between them for the past few days.

“No, no. I had to kill a man once who did magic on nugs.” Lucanis said as he leaned back into his chair, crossing his arms. “A hundred little pigs with hands came after me. All together in one big, writing ball. Have you ever tried to stab a ball of angry nugs? That was a bad job.”

“I’ve got a better one.” Davrin said as he leaned forward in his chair. “You know what the Wandering Hills are named for?” He asked without waiting for a reply. “it’s a monster. Big heap of red tentacles that crawls around, devouring everything in it’s path.”

If nothing else, it was nice to see Davrin and Lucanis sitting together, their laughter echoing softly as they swapped stories so engrossed that they didn’t even notice Rook enter the room.

“The damned thing was a hillside. Size of a village. You try fighting a hill with a sword some time.”

“How did you kill it?” Bewildered, Lucanis asked, his voice barely above a whisper, a tremor of uncertainty in his tone.

“Lamp oil. Everything stank of burned tentacles for miles, after.”

“If the two of you were going to open a bottle, you might have told me, first.” Rook teased, her laughter echoing through the room, making her presence known.

“It’s not a good bottle.” Davrin spoke, the firelight catching his slightly unfocused eyes, revealing his inebriation, a wide, goofy grin stretched across his flushed cheeks.

“Might have to pick up a supply. I have a feeling we’ll need it.” Lucanis said as he looked at her. His cheeks were suspiciously flushed as well, but he was nowhere near as drunk as Davrin. Then she remembered Spite. Of course, he wouldn’t let loose like that.

“What about you, Rook? What’s the worst job you ever been on?” Lucanis inquired.

A few missions from her days with the Shadow Dragons sprang to mind. And then to a few others before she joined them, though she didn’t particularly like to think about those. The most recent memory, however, brought a bittersweet smile to her face, prompting her to recount the tale of Varric, Harding, and Neve’s first encounter with Solas, a story filled with unexpected twists.

A hush fell over the room as Davrin, emboldened by the shared stories, finally seemed to find the courage to ask, his voice a low murmur. “So what’s up with you and Emmrich?”

From the second she sat down, Rook could practically hear the questions brewing in the room, a symphony of curious voices just waiting to erupt. She would usually handle them better than Emmrich seemed to be, particularly around the age difference.

“What do you want to know?” The ruby liquid swirled in her glass as she asked, a daring glint in her eyes, challenging them to a daring exchange.

Davrin, startled by her candor, shifted uncomfortably in his chair, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow as he considered his next question. “Well… how come you’re not with Emmrich now, helping him with his bone magic?”

Rook shook her head, a chuckle escaping her lips, as Davrin’s relentless puns continued, each one more groan-inducing than the last.

“Yes, how come you’re here with us and not somewhere in his tower?” Lucanis asked.

“I’m not always in his tower.” Her cheeks flushed slightly as she mumbled a little sheepishly.

“Really?” Davrin asked. “We’ve hardly seen you in the kitchen for a glass since you two started boning.”

A wide, warm smile stretched across Lucanis’ face, the crinkles around his eyes deepening as a mischievous glint sparked within them. A wave of warm, hearty laughter washed over the room from him, dissipating the tension she’d sensed and replacing it with a comforting energy.

“So what should I do?” With a loud thud, Rook slammed her empty glass onto the table, a final, sharp sound that punctuated her question. The wine, a cheap, vinegary blend, was truly atrocious, but Rook was certainly feeling its effects by now — a dull headache and a loosening of her tongue.

“You should go and just tell him what’s up. Men love women who take initiative.” Davrin emphasized, his voice booming through the room, commanding attention. The sound of his words resonated on some level with Rook, like thunder in a silent sky, igniting a spark of inspiration, and it was better than anything she had tried so far, so she was inclined to heed his words.

“Rook, you’re the leader of this group. Just tell him what to do. I can make sure he fulfills his contract. Or he could become the contract. Up to you.” Lucanis added.

“Yeah, just tell him to dust off the old bone and wield it like you do your sword, warrior!”

By this point, Rook has had enough of their shenanigans and puns about her and Emmrich and decided to up the stakes with a challenge.

“Okay, how about we play a round of Diamondback? If I win, you promise to stop bothering Emmrich with those bone jokes,” Rook said, casting a glance at Davrin. “And whatever it was you said to him,” she added, turning her gaze towards Lucanis.

“I never said anything.” Lucanis replied. “Well, I never did. Spite did.”

“Deal.” Davrin said, his laughter echoing in the kitchen.

A heavy, wine-soaked haze hung in the air, the sharp tang of cheap alcohol mingling with the lingering cheesy scent of Lucanis’s Cacio e Pepe. Rook stared at her hand, the cards pinched between her fingers as if they were about to spring to life and bite, her mind a blur of time. A Black Queen smirked back at her, and the Gilded Serpent lay coiled beside it — promising misfortune rather than salvation. Lucanis leaned back in his chair, his lips twitching with a barely suppressed grin, his Silver Blade and Storm Knight spread neatly before him. But it was Davrin who sealed the match, his final card sliding onto the table with a soft, inevitable finality: the Diamondback itself — a flawless win, the game’s namesake gleaming from the worn card face.

Rook’s eyes narrowed, and her jaw tightened, but there was no denying defeat. She almost forgot what she agreed to do, until she saw Davrin’s smile sharpening, dark eyes glittering as he leaned forward. “Well, well, Rook. A promise is a promise.” He tapped the edge of his winning card, voice silk and steel.

“You’re going to march in there and show Emmrich who’s the boss. And you have to tell him exactly what I told you to say. I’ll know if you won’t.”

Lucanis let out a low whistle, a wicked grin spreading across his face. Rook groaned, tossing her losing hand onto the table. “I swear, one day I’ll wipe that smug look off your face.”

But even as she scowled, there was a fire lingering in her—the kind that only Emmrich could put out, so the prospect wasn’t really unappealing. She just hoped she wouldn’t forget the words, as Davrin would most certainly ask Emmrich about it later.

Rook took in a deep breath and pushed open the door to Emmrich’s chamber, her footsteps a loud contrast to the darkness of the room. She couldn’t see anything, and even as she had her arms outstretched, she stumbled against something heavy, almost falling, her lack of balance not helping, and she cursed the blasted object.

“Son of a Fereldan bitch!”

She heard movement from up top and a familiar voice calling out to her from the darkness. “Rook? Is that you?”

“Of course it’s me. Who else would walk into your tower in the middle of the night?”

She heard the sound of footsteps on the staircase getting closer to her, and she took a deep breath, her mind already scrambling to remember the words exactly.

“There you are. I have a bone to pick with you, mister!”

She glared at Davrin when he told her to say that, his suggestion grating on her nerves, yet the moment the words left her lips, a wicked cackle erupted, surprising even herself. She was about to continue her speech, but as Emmrich ascended the last few steps of the grand staircase, his presence filled her vision, she forgot all the words. The familiar, musky scent of his cologne combined with the refreshing chill of the room’s air left her breathless, her mouth agape in silent shock.

The long, bone-white gown Emmrich wore, ruffled at the neck, swayed slightly as he moved, the candelabra in his hand throwing flickering shadows. The neatly pressed collar added a touch of elegance, and the vibrant green bow made him resemble a present, tempting yet unattainable to her touch, given how he avoided her as of late.

She didn’t realize she was walking towards him and bumped into the heavy object again—the mortuary table she realized, cold and smooth beneath his fingertips—its presence now clear in the light, the same table he used for his corpse whispering with the dead.

“Maker-forsaken piece of–”

“Rook, are you inherited?”

“No.” Rook said quickly, her hands clasped behind her back as she fought to stay upright, the dizzying swirl of the walls making her unsteady.

With a heavy sigh, Emmrich placed the candelabra on the mortuary table, the green magic swirling around his fingertips banished the darkness, revealing the harsh Fate light from the windows. She wondered, her breath catching, if the light played tricks on her eyes, or if she truly saw the magnificent, sculpted lines of his body beneath the thin nightgown, a longing to touch him burning within her.

“Rook!”

The sudden, piercing sound jolted her from her thoughts. Startled, she turned to see Manfred, his bony hands clapping together with a sharp, echoing noise. The tension in the air broke, filling the room with a sudden jolt that shattered the awkward silence and her wandering thoughts.

“Ah, Manfred!” Emmrich called out to him. “Kindly procure a selection of refreshments and convey them to Rook’s room, if you please.”

“Rook!” Manfred hissed in agreement.

Emmrich guided Rook outside of his room in silence, his fingers barely grazing the small of her back every once in a while, which ignited the fire within her for more of his touch. But it all seemed unimportant, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she did something to make Emmrich push her away. Her mind conjured images of potential situations where she might have offended him and she grimaced at the thought of her latest offence of showing up all demanding in his room when he was clearly sleeping.

“Are you angry with me?” A tiny, hesitant sound escaped Rook’s lips, barely audible as a question.

“I’m not.” Emmrich said, his voice tight and his face a mask of forced calm that didn’t quite mask the tension radiating from him as they entered her room.

“You are.”

“I’m not angry, I’m just disappointed.”

The words stung more than anything else he could have said. She would have preferred Emmrich’s explosive anger to this unsettling silence. In the vastness of her small room, she felt the magnitude of their disconnect. The walls seemed to expand, stretching to hold the weight of her emotions. Every corner echoed with the absence of his voice, leaving her feeling alone, mirroring the void in her heart.

Regardless, always the gentleman, he carefully helped her to the couch, the soft fabric yielding beneath her weight. Rook thought he might at least sit with her and talk, but as he turned to leave, she instinctively grabbed his cotton nightgown sleeve, the cool fabric a contrast to her own feverish skin.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” Rook blurted the words before she could stop herself.

Emmrich’s eyes widened, a silent gasp passing through his parted lips before he pushed them close together, gathering his composure once more. “I have not.”

Rook chuckled at his expression, despite the gnawing pain in her chest. “You’re awful at lying.”

“I thought it best to give you some room.” Emmrich settled onto the edge of the couch, his words soft and measured.

“I don’t want any room.” Rook said as she drew closer to him. She stopped inches away, noticing his brow furrow and his arms pull into his lap–a subtle shift that spoke volumes. “But I guess you do.”

“Rook, I thought some time and space between us might give us both a chance to reflect on our relationship.”

“Ok? But why?”

His lips pressed together in a slight grimace, a frown etching itself onto his face as he searched for the right words; one hand absentmindedly went to his ear, tugging at it gently before falling back to his lap, the silence punctuated only by the faintest sounds of his inner turmoil. Rook imagined herself grabbing his hands, her own trembling slightly, and kissing him hard to silence the frantic thoughts that whirled in her mind, but even in her drunken state, she sensed he needed space, further amplifying her misery.

“I was hoping that some time apart might grant us the clear head to ascertain whether if this relationship is still a good idea.”

“You want to break up?” Rook asked as the pounding heartbeat grew loud in her ears, suddenly very aware of the dryness in her mouth.

“Isn’t that why you came to my room in the dead of night?”

“No, you fool. I wanted to bone you, not break up with you.”

“Rook!” Manfred startled them both, the sudden hiss of his voice cutting through the tension as he appeared with a tray laden with steaming teacups and glasses of water.

“Thank you, Manfred. That will be all.”

Despite Manfred leaving, they remained seated in silence. “What brought this on?” Rook asked.

“It’s been inferred that perhaps we are moving at a rapid pace. And I assumed your infatuation might die down with some space. Perhaps I might have misjudged your intentions.”

“Perhaps.”

“But then perhaps we should stop listening to those around us and see what works for us.” Emmrich sat in thoughtful silence, his palms slowly pressing against each other, creating a soft, muffled sound. The furrowed lines on his forehead mirrored the intensity of his contemplation.

“We could bone it out.”

“I see you’ve made the company of Davrin as of late.”

“Well I preferred the company of someone else, but that someone else seemed to have been listening to someone else–others–other people.” The thoughts made sense in her head, but when they were spoken, she wasn’t so sure anymore.

Emmrich let out a hearty chuckle, the sound warm and comforting, and the uneasy atmosphere lifted, everything once more in its rightful place. “Alright. I think it’s time we get you to sleep.”

“We could do other things besides sleeping, you know.” Rook’s suggestive words left a lingering sense of mystery in the conversation.

“Darling, I’m flattered, but I will, unfortunately, have to decline, given your current condition.”

“My condition?”

“Rook, you’re clearly drunk and I would never–” Emmrich said as he got to his feet. In an attempt to grab him, Rook overextended, narrowly avoiding a face-plant onto the dusty wooden floor, as Emmrich caught her just in time.

“Please stay.” Rook asked with pleading eyes, her voice filled with longing.

Emmrich’s jaw clenched tightly, a faint grinding sound echoing in the room, as he processed his thoughts. The air carried a tinge of tension, permeating the space with an almost palpable heaviness.

“No boning, I promise.” Rook added for emphasis.

“Only if you stop referring to sex as boning.”

“Deal.”

Emmrich settled in beside her, the confines of the small space pressing against them, yet Rook’s hand found his arm, pulling him closer until he was molded against her. As much as she didn’t want to think about it, the image of his thin frame, barely concealed by the sheer fabric, filled her mind, intensifying her desire.

“I love your nightgown.”

“Thank you.”

“I would love it even more if it was on the floor.”

A low chuckle rumbled from Emmrich’s chest, the vibration jolting them both.

“Perhaps if you still feel so passionately about it, I might indulge you in the morning.”

“You’re such a tease. But I hope that’s a promise.”

“It is. Now sleep, dearest.” He said, his lips brushing against her hair as he pulled her closer, leaving a tender kiss on the back of her head.

Emmrich held Rook close, his warmth a comforting blanket, and she soon drifted off to sleep.

[sapphim]

Since everyone's been so nice about the other snippet I posted 👉👈 here are the good bits from sth else with the warden squad I wrote last year (since I might never get around to sprucing up the long and boring bits). Right after Lothering before anyone involved knows how to get along with each other so they're all kind of just standing around being assholes 🩷

—

"Not to catastrophize," Alistair says, to nobody in particular, "but when they find their way back and inform us with deep regret that they have no idea where we are or where we're going and we all die in the woods after wandering in circles for weeks, I'm going to say 'I told you so'."

"That's not going to happen."

Alistair twists around to gawk at Sten. The Qunari soldier has been standing at the outskirts of the group, stone-faced and completely unmoving—as far as Alistair can tell—since they paused their slow march through the woods.

"I think that's the first thing I've heard you say all day," he says incredulously. "Humor me. Why won't it?"

"Because in this scenario you've crafted in your mind, you'll be too dead to say 'I told you so'."

"They'll be my dying words," Alistair insists. "As I lay dying in the underbrush I'll croak, 'I told you this is exactly how it would happen, Sten,' and then I'll perish on the spot. See if I don't."

"I look forward to it," Sten says. "At least then you'll be quiet."

"It'll be a touching moment," Alistair says, settling back down into his seat at the base of a tree and staring up into the canopy, "and you'll miss me when I'm gone. You'll see."

"If it will make you feel any better," Zevran pipes up from his seat on low branch a short distance away, "if the end does come—which I very much doubt, mind, given what a capable group you have assembled here—I can swear that I will ensure you a swift and dignified death."

"Absolutely not," Alistair growls.

"My apologies," Zevran says mildly, as he has found himself doing not infrequently over the last few days since his initial ill-fated encounter with the wardens. "The offer was meant with no ill intent."

"Do not stab me."

—

"What's that?" Micah asks, pointing upward. Alistair and Rafael crane their heads to look at the rustling tree branch she's indicated.

"That, my dear, is another squirrel," Zevran says.

"Squirrel," she repeats under her breath.

"Don't have squirrels in Orzammar?" Alistair says, conversationally.

"We've got nugs," Micah says. "And moles. Mice. Deepstalkers. No squirrels."

"I guess everywhere has mice," Rafael muses.

"The one thing that unites us despite all our differences," Alistair agrees. "Mice in the larder. Hey, Sten, do Qunari have–"

"They're returning," Sten interrupts, nodding curtly in the direction of more rustling brush, where glimpses of Leliana's pale skin and vivid red hair can be caught through the trees.

The mabari crashes out of the underbrush first, panting and wiggling with an excess of excitement. A few moments later, the rest of the wayward scouts rejoin the waiting party.

"We have determined the proper course to reach our destination, and located a camp site for the night," Morrigan announces. "No need to thank us."

"And we saw the fattest squirrel I've ever seen in my life," Leliana adds cheerfully. The dog barks in agreement.

Morrigan sighs. "Yes. And—more importantly—a sight which has never before been witnessed by man nor beast. A fat squirrel. Again, no need to–"

—

"Could you tell if something is possessed by a spirit?" she asks.

The young mage twists the cuffs of his sleeves between his fingers, chewing on his lip. "I– I should be able to," he says. "Yes. I– Yes, I can do that."

"Spoken with remarkable confidence," Morrigan says dryly, earning her a reproachful glare from Alistair.

"Not all that many haunted trees in the middle of the lake, I'd think," he says.

"There was a cat, once," Rafael says, "that got possessed by a demon and went on a rampage through the tower. It killed three templars before they brought it down."

"Ah, 'tis a heartwarming tale that would bring a smile to anyone's face, would it not?"

The mabari huffs and snorts in response.

"Aw, I bet a nasty demon cat would be no match for you," Alistair says, crouching to scratch the pleased mabari vigorously behind the ears. "Isn't that right, Barkspawn? Because you're a good boy! Yes you are!"

"We weren't allowed to have cats in the tower after that," Rafael mutters in conclusion.

"Not allowed," Morrigan repeats derisively. "'Tis a wonder that anything would be allowed to begin with."

"For the mice," Rafael says glumly.

Alistair extricates himself with some effort from the wet, sloppy kisses the mabari is determined to plant all over his face. "Did you get demon mice after that?" he asks, with the gleeful tone of someone who has only just considered the possibility of demon mice and finds it funnier than they probably should.

—

As they fall into line behind the Dalish elf, Micah muses aloud to no one in particular, "So, I'm not entirely sure what a cat is."

Eydis snorts derisively. "It's a surface animal with four legs and a tail. I've been here as long as you have. How do you not know that?"

"Excuse me?" Micah snaps. "You just described every surface animal. They all have four legs and a tail. Or they're birds."

"It's got fur."

"They've all got fur. You're just describing the dog."

The dog in question barks.

"Smaller than the dog. And with a fluffy tail."

"That's squirrels."

"Bigger than squirrels," Eydis huffs. "They were all over the human settlements. Pay more attention next time, brand."

"Watch it, salroka," Micah growls.

"Perhaps I could draw some pictures tonight," Leliana says appeasingly.

"Perhaps you should write a song in memory of the princess, in case I finally kill her tonight."

"Don't be so sensitive," Eydis chastises.

"I've been lead to understand that we are all strictly forbidden from killing each other here," Zevran interrupts cheerfully, "or is that just me?"

"Do not stab me," Alistair repeats.

"I swear on my life," Zevran says, "I will make no attempt to harm you unless I am paid a great deal more coin and I have reason to understand that forsaking your company would be to my overall benefit. Neither of which I forsee happening in the middle of a haunted forest. Perhaps that may set your mind at ease?"

"That doesn't set my mind at ease! Why would that make me feel better?"

"Because I am being extremely honest right now," Zevran says. "Unless you would prefer I lie?"

"I would not."

"Nobody is killing anybody," Leliana says.

"Only a fool would do the work of his enemy for him," Sten says.

"Oh! That's very wise, Sten."

"It is not. It's common sense."

[inevestigator]

THE FALL OF MINRATHOUS.

So I'm posting this on AO3, here's the link if you want to read it not on tumblr. Or you can click through. It's almost 8000 words, there's your warning. if you see tense errors no you didn't. i really tried.

tw violence, death, blood... etc.

UNTIL IT BURNS.

Minrathous has its good days. It has many more bad days. But it’s never had a day like this. The city has stood for Ages through sieges and blights, repelling invaders and would-be-conquerors with barely any effort at all.

So where are the defences now? I hear you ask. Why does the Archon’s palace sit dark and unmanned? Why do the juggernauts not jump to the cities defence as they were created to do? Where are the magisters and their magic?

The answer is simple. There’s been a coup. Like a knife sliding between ribs, the Venatori have made a play for the heart of the city. They’ve wrested control and likely killed anyone who didn’t immediately pledge their loyalty. They had an easy enough time of it. How? Well, they brought a big enough distraction. It flaps around overhead and roars sparks and flames into the night sky- and down onto the streets.

The heat is everywhere, all encompassing. Buildings tremble like leaves in the wind. People are screaming and running. Where are they meant to go? When the safest city in Thedas is burning?

A girl in her father’s arms drops a nug shaped toy in the crowd. Only then does she begin to wail, adding to the cacophony.

It bounces from foot to foot until it hits my boot. I pick it up and find the wailing child. I wish I could tell her it’s going to be alright, but the outlook is grim and I’ve never been good with kids. I hand the nug over and look at her father. “Get underground, there’s a safehouse not far from here.” I point in the direction of one of many entrances to Shadow Dragon safehouses. Even from this distance I can see someone waving people inside. The smoke makes it hard to tell exactly who it is. The list of Shadow Dragons isn’t as long as I’d like, but longer than I’d expected.  

I turn my back once I’m sure the crowd is moving the right way and throw my hands out to extinguish the nearby fires.

Wingbeats sound overhead, a roar- if it can be called that- followed by intense, searing heat. People further down the street scream an agonising sound- and then they don’t. The stench is acrid and the cobbles are melting. I pull the freezing air back to me, cloak myself in it until my eyes and lungs stop aching from the hat and the smoke. A metal shop sign melts in slow drips.

I try not to look at the charred marks that used to be people.

I let my feet take me back towards The Shop, taking the obvious routes, the ones a non-native might take. I make it three streets before my plan works out and Lace comes barrelling towards me, bow drawn, chest heaving. There’s an echo of my own agony in her expression. And something else.

“Rook-“ She falters. It’s tough being the bearer of bad news.

“-Isn’t coming.” I finish for her. A knife between the ribs. But there’s only myself to blame. There isn’t time to dwell on it. I cut her off before she can speak again, we’ve no time for excuses, either. “There’s people trapped in the temple. Can you get to them?”

Harding looks more focused for being handed a mission. She nods.

I see Bellara appear, out of the smoke- she’s holding the hand of a young boy.

“Neve!” She sounds relieved. I try to echo some of her expression back to her.

“Nice to see you too, Bel,” I assure her. “You’ve made a friend.”

She looks uncomfortable at the thought. “He was lost-“

“I’ve got it.” I hold my hand out. “Go with Harding. I’ll get him to safety.”

We exchange responsibilities. Harding and Bellara go back the way they’d come and I find my way to the nearest safehouse. Hector hovers by the door, looking ashen and afraid, but gripping his sword just the same.

“Lost kid, get him somewhere safe.” I hand over the boy.

Hector stops me before I can leave. “Viper and Tarquin- they’re out by Dumat Plaza. There’s a safehouse out there- we lost contact.”

“Of course they are. I’ll find them.”

I walk away, already forming the best route to the water’s edge in my mind.

It takes me longer to get there than I wanted, but by the time I make it there’s a few less tenement buildings on fire.

True to Hector’s tip, Ashur and Tarquin are a couple of streets east of Dumat Plaza. The wing beats are louder here. People rush past in an effort to get inside the hatch Tarquin is holding open.

The dragon screeches. There’s another rush of heat. I whirl around, throwing up a barrier against the flames but I still feel it scorching through the ice.

There’s a scuffle. “They’re going to kill each other to make it in here!” Tarquin yells, as if Ashur and I couldn’t see that for ourselves.

“I’ll draw it off,” Ashur says and fires a beam into the air, it hits the dragon on a blight boil and the thing hisses and circles. Sparks form in its mouth.  

“Great, you’ve got it’s attention, now what?” I ask.

“Now, we move.” He says, and takes off, firing magic from his fingertips again. I watch him grab a zipline- brave and stupid- and disappear out of sight. Tarquin makes a sound of devastation. We share a look- and then we both follow him off the edge.

Turns out, we’re all a little brave. And very stupid, when we want to be.

The Viper actually looks surprised as we drop down next to him, beside Our Lady of Victory.

“You didn’t think we were going to let you have all the glory, did you?” Tarquin asks, with a voice that doesn’t match the tremble in his hand.

There’s another rushing sensation and I throw up another barrier around the three of us. It staves off the worst of the flames.

“We have to get it to land!” I yell over the sound of wings and fire and roaring dragon.

“Over here!” Ashur moves into an open area and starts drawing magic from the Fade. A lot of magic from the Fade.

We follow him. Two mages and a templar against the worst.

“Alright.” I brace myself for an attack. “Light it up.”

Ashur does. I feel the veil ripple in response to the power of the beacon, watch a magical bomb land a hit on the dragon’s shoulder and detonate, rocking everything. The dragon screeches as it finds a new target.

Tarquin stands with his sword held tight. Ashur stands with his hands up, ready. I stand with my staff in the vice my fingers have formed. Andraste stands over us, unmoved.

The ground shakes as the dragon slams into it, its breath is hot and foul.

We attack as one.

The dragon doesn’t care. We’re practically useless against it.

We do a damned good job of keeping it on the ground, but everything we throw at it seems to slide right off.

Just as I’m beginning to think we might have done some damage to it, it lashes out with its claws and Ashur goes down. Someone yells. It might be me.

There’s nothing I can do, I’m rooted to the spot by a jet of flame from the dragon’s maw- barely holding my own as I replace shield after shield of ice.

I see Tarquin run to help Ashur through the flame. He’s not looking at the dragon.

I can’t help either of them, I can barely help myself.

Ashur’s hand is limp as Tarquin rolls him over. There’s too much blood.

How poignant, I think, that Ashur might die at the feet of Andraste. Burned to death at the foot of the martyr herself. You could laugh at the irony.

The dragon blasts me again. I feel the magic weaken. I use the last of it to push myself aside on an icy slick. I cower behind a rock to catch my breath and wait for the flames to come again.

They don’t. The dragon, untethered and no longer under attack, flaps its wings and takes off into the air. I don’t want to be relieved but another hit would have killed us all- and instead of going back to burning down the city, it seems to be retreating. Though not because we’ve hurt it in any meaningful way.

I scramble to Tarquin’s side. Ashur is bleeding, but breathing. I manage to muster the energy to slow the bleeding to a crawl whilst Tarquin performs some kind of templar rudimentary field healing. Together, we drag him into a nearby building and onto a box to do a proper once-over.

Part of me wishes we hadn’t.

The wound is infected, with blackness oozing from it. The blight.

All our work for nothing. Ashur is still going to die.  

I find a functioning candlehop and send for Harding and Bellara.

Imagine my surprise when Rook turns up instead.

--------

UNTIL IT’S GONE.

Sometimes the world is nice, it gives you things without you having to ask, it provides. And sometimes a bad night turns into an even worse day, and right when you think you have nothing more to lose, you find out you do.

Watching the city burn had been bad enough. Hearing people roasting in locked or blocked off rooms and streets, or people choking on the smoke, or consumed by the blight, or trapped under rubble had been worse. After Rook left (see: was sent away before Tarquin could stab them) I spent the next several hours helping rescue efforts, pulling people from razed homes, taking notes and names to pass bad news onto next of kin, if I could find any.

I am helped by the templars. Or at least, a few of them. Knight-Captain Jahvis and Knight-Templar Rana Savas found me just as dawn was breaking. They look as terrible as I feel. Jahvis’ already banged up armour was dented and cracked and I’d never seen Rana’s hair so messy. There’s a bruise on her face and a deep, nasty looking cut on her arm. Where I’d normally be able to see my face in her armour, to assess my own appearance, it’s smudged with soot and plaster and streaked with blood.

She quickly assures me most of it isn’t hers.

I can’t do the same.

We argue about it, but she can’t stop me helping. At least, not until I stumble and almost crush Kight-Captain Jahvis’ foot with a lump of rubble and find the world swaying too much to get back to my feet.

“Templar Savas, please get her out of here,” he says, with more authority than I feel he has any right to, since it’s me he’s talking about and I am fully capable of standing up on my own. Just as soon as the world stops swimming.

“Neve.” Rana’s voice is firm, but caring. Truly, she has a gift. The gift is making me grind my teeth. “You need to sleep.”

“Or you could give me one of your templar issued lyrium potions and I could get back to work.”

Her face tells me everything I need to know about what she thinks of that plan. It’s almost worth it for the exasperation alone.

“Now, Neve. Go home. That’s an order.”

“I don’t take orders from you.” I snap, looking up at her too quickly. The world spins again.

She hooks her arm into mine and lifts me to my feet. She’s stronger than I give her credit for.

I don’t pull away. She walks me away from the rescue efforts.

We both know she already knows where I live, so she simply waltzes me back through the tattered streets in the direction of the Broken Spine bookshop where I reside.

The daybreak does what it does best and resets the streets to business as usual. Everyone climbing out of the safe houses and starting to pick up the pieces. People chatting and sweeping and throwing buckets of water onto the fires that were still burning.

I want to stop and help.

Rana doesn’t release my arm.

We round the corner and I watch a cat wind its way through the legs of a woman with a broom, mewing for food. Business as usual.

Rana stops. I do not- and am unceremoniously jerked back by our connection.

“Neve-“ There’s something broken about her voice that makes my head snap around.

Then I see the booksellers.

Or more accurately, see what’s left of it.

People are still throwing water onto the flames.

I unhook my arm from Rana (she lets me) and surge forward, exhaustion be damned.

I call for the Fade and it answers, reaching the doorway of the shop, I throw my hands out, ice spilling from my fingers. There was a decisively final hiss from the fire as it fizzles out. Someone cheers. I look around at the devastation.

Soaked ash and pages stir in the sea breeze. I peer up through the hole in the ceiling at the space that used to be my apartment. My bedframe is a half-melted, tangled mess, looming down through the floor like a metal spider.

Rana’s armour clanks as she catches up to me.

“Neve…” she says, again. I hate the pity in her voice.

“You’d best get back to work, Knight-Templar Savas. Looks like you’ve followed your orders. Best go see if there’s more.” It’s cold, even for me.

Rana sighs. “You know where to find me.” Then she leaves like the good soldier she is.

I test the stairs. They’re not very stable. I stabilise them with magic. My head throbs.

By some miracle, I still have a front door, so I unlock it and watch it swing open to reveal the true extent of damage done. The front and centre of the room are destroyed, open to the street and the bookshop below.

There isn’t even enough floor for me to walk across. I don’t have the magic left to make one. I can already see there’s no point. My clothes trunk stands melted, the fabrics within turned to ash, the bed twisted, my desk and documents burned.

Everything I had.

Everything not currently at the lighthouse, that is.

Hollowness settles inside my chest, something deeper than sadness. Something hungry and gnawing. Something black and bleak. The emptiness of having nothing.  

I turn my back on the remnants of my home and walk away.

I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t have anywhere to go. Nowhere that won’t be full of dozens of refugees that need the space far more than I do.

“Neve. Neve Gallus.” My name is enough to stop me from walking on. It usually is. The voice is coming from my neighbour (call me Birdy, it’s what the grandkids call me!). I can’t muster a pleasant expression. She doesn’t seem to mind. She beckons me over. “Come! Come with me. I see what happened to your apartment. You can’t stay out here on the streets in these dangerous times. Please, come on in here, sit down, have something to eat.”

I don’t have the energy to fight it, I barely have the energy to be suspicious about it, so I find myself ushered into a threadbare living space, with second hand cushions on the ground around a low table. Nothing seems to be damaged. It’s a small win. It’s what I need to be able to take a breath. Not everything is lost. Not everyone is suffering.

Birdy gestures at the cushions and I sit down. “What do you-?“ I start to question what she wants, but she shushes me.

“None of that paranoid nonsense, child, you think word doesn’t travel these streets? You think we don’t know who was out there fighting that dragon? Sit right there and let me fix you up a plate.”

I want to object to being called child, but it dies in my throat. The air smells of spice and jasmine, instead of ash and death. The cushions take the weight of my aching bones. The darkness welcomes me with warm embrace.

I swear me eyes are closed only for a moment, but when they reopen there’s already a plate of food in front of me. “Khinkali?” I ask.

Birdy smiles. “My grandad’s recipe. That’ll set you right. And there’s some tea there for you too.”

If she’s poisoning me, there are worst ways to go. My stomach growls in agreement. I reach for the plate.

I devour the dumplings in a way that most people might deem impolite. Birdy just adds more to my plate. I eat those too. The tea is warm and comforting. My blinks slow, like a particularly affectionate cat.

“There now,” Birdy proclaims. “You just lay your head down there and get some rest.”

If it’s poison, it’s painless. The weight is overwhelming and the darkness is coming whether I want it or not.

I fall asleep right there on the cushions.

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

UNTIL THE LAST.

They say sleep is important, that it can save your life, they don’t know how true that is.

It’s dusk when I wake, the dim light shining into the room cut with the red-gold colours of evening instead of the brightness of dawn. It takes a moment to orient myself in the room. This is not my room. It’s not my home. It’s not the Lighthouse. There’s a pan on the stove, a lit lamp on the table and a homemade quilt over my shoulders but Birdy is no-where to be seen.

I stretch and stand up. Something is missing, but I can’t place it. Until I do. It’s too damn quiet. Maybe I’ve just gotten used to The Lighthouse where it’s always quiet, because it takes me far longer than it should to recognise that dusk in Minrathous should be loud. There’s a distance clanking sound and one muffled voice outside, but that’s not enough.

Stealthily, or as stealthily as possible, I make my way over to the door. From there I can hear a low rumble of more voices and the sound of stones scraping. I push aside the door curtain and find that Birdy is standing in the doorway right on the other side.

She doesn’t look at me, but reaches behind to push me back into the house. “Stay outta sight,” she hisses through clenched teeth and I take two steps backwards.

Naturally, as a being of an inquisitive nature and not one for following orders, I make my way over to one of the narrow windows instead. The street is full of people, most of them people I recognise as my neighbours. They’re all standing quietly. It’s so eerie I start feeling for blood magic.

There’s a crash and a yell and I realise it’s coming from roughly the place my apartment used to be. A templar in full golden guard armour walks into my limited line of sight, pointing at the gathered crowd in exasperation.

“I say this again-“ convenient for me, who missed the last act.  “Anybody who is found to be harbouring the dangerous criminals known as the Shadow Dragons will face a swift and brutal punishment. Anybody with information on the traitor known as the Viper and his cohorts will be rewarded. We know one of them was here. Bring me Neve Gallus and you will be given riches beyond your wildest dreams.”

They’re looking for me. Of course they are, they’re answering to the Venatori and I’ve made myself a thorn in their side. I make my way swiftly to the door again, this time taking up a stance beside it, back against the wall. I wait for someone to confess, to point their finger. I wait for the templars-who-are-probably-venatori to burst through the doorway of this tiny home. I mentally apologise to Birdy for starting a fight in her house. I prepare to fight them off, drawing magic to the palm of my hand.

It doesn’t come. The silence is deafening. No-one moves. No-one speaks. No-one turns me in.

The silence draws itself out.

That means if someone is going to stab me in the back, they’re not going to do it in front of a crowd of people.

I let the magic dissipate from my hand. I let my head fall back against the wall. I let my eyes close.

How could I have expected this? My neighbours don’t know me. Why would they stand up for me?

“You’re not welcome here!” calls a voice I don’t recognise.

“Go back to your high tower!” yells another.

The silence quickly deteriorates into shouting. Pretty soon it’ll be violence.

The templars seem to sense the shift too, because they start packing up. At least from the sounds of their movements and grumbling.

Only once they’ve gone does Birdy come back through the curtain. I want to tell her how grateful I am. I want to ask what was happening. Why people chose not to hand me over. I know I don’t have the time.

“It won’t last, someone wants that gold,” I say.

She nods her agreement, setting about folding the blanket she’d laid over me. “Someone always does.”

“I can’t stay here. They’ll be coming back soon.”

“No, I don’t suppose you can. Take a bite with you.” She potters around the kitchen and hands me a bag of cheesy rolls.

“Thank you.” It’s not enough. It’s all I have for her.

“Take this, too.” She hands me a cloak. Nothing like my usual attire, but enough to buy anonymity in a city like mine. I put it on and take the bag.

“Really, thank you.” I duck out of the curtained doorway into the long shadows of the streets. It’s almost completely dark. The lamps are lit, where they aren’t knocked down or broken.

I pull the hood up on the cloak, against the light drizzle that has started. At least I have a valid reason to keep the hood up.

I have to warn the Shadows, if they don’t already know. I travel along the winding streets, head down, gait quick. It wouldn’t do to get stopped and caught now.

Rain drips from overhead, black where it’s mixed with soot from the rooftops. The streets are still strewn with blood and wreckage. I travel up past the Eastern Wharf Crossing, up through the double gates, towards The Shop and I’m stopped dead in my tracks.

The square is awash with wreckage and blood, the shopfront equally so. Shelves have been emptied and thrown aside. There are no friendly faces. No Hector on the door. Just an eerie sort of silence and several sets of cart tracks in the blood- slowly being washed away by Dock Town’s perpetual rain cloud.

There are silent, gold-clad guards on the door and slaves on the street building something out of wood. A stage? New stalls? Something worse? I don’t dare walk any closer, instead turning and walking back to the tunnels. To the Anvallenim. There are no guards back there and I slip easily into the tunnels beyond without being seen.

I sense around for Fade tears or demons and listen out for a resurgence of darkspawn. Nothing hurtles out of the dark at me immediately and so I trudge through the tunnel network until I reach the secret door into the hideout.

It hangs crooked and open. Beyond it, there is carnage. The safehouse, the beds for refugees and escapees and anyone else who has ever needed help from the Shadows are destroyed or coated in blood. Or both.

There’s not enough bodies on the ground for the blood that’s been spilled.

Maybe it’s my mind trying to compartmentalise the horror, but the facts are easier to focus on. Most of the bodies are missing.

I pick my way through the scene, through the bedrooms to the stairs- only to find they’ve collapsed. Or been collapsed. No access to the hideout from down here, then. But it’s clear the Venatori have been through.

It’s obvious that someone has sold out the Shadow Dragons.

And that the Venatori considered them enough of a threat to make a raid on their home base within a day of their successful coup.

And that I’d slept through it.

And that I was next.

It’s a lot to process.

There, in the dark, at the bottom of a collapsed stairwell and among the blood of my friends and allies, my knees give out.

I sit at the bottom of that stairwell for almost fifteen minutes before I pull myself back together long enough to make my way back to the streets.

I don’t have a plan, I don’t have anywhere to go, I don’t have anyone I can trust. What’s a girl to do, alone in the city on a night like this?

I couldn’t get back to the eluvian even if I wanted to. Well, not without fighting at least two templars. Which I could do. But I was beginning to feel like keeping my presence a secret gave me the best chances of survival. And I didn’t want the Venatori figuring out the eluvian. If they hadn’t already.

I spend the rest of my night going around to all the safehouses- and dodging searchlights from the Archon’s Palace. It’s a similar story at each, doors thrown or blown open. Blood and gore in a trail out the door. There are Templars on watch everywhere.  

In a street full of charred bodies I stop to place a bloodied nug shaped toy in my pocket.

I really should stop being surprised at finding knives in my back, but this went beyond anything I could have imagined.

The very people who had been sheltered in those safehouses during the attack had sold out the Shadow Dragons to their newest overlords, the Venatori. The position of every hideout, compromised. The Shadows, missing. Or dead.

To have survived the dragon attack only to be slaughtered in the aftermath by the Venatori. Where was the justice in that?

The answer was, there is no justice. Not in Minrathous. Not in the world the Gods were creating. There was strength and there was weakness. Unfortunately, it looked like the Shadow Dragons were on the weak end of the scale.

There’s no satisfaction in being right all the time.

I do the only thing I can think of. The only thing left to ease a troubled mind.

I check on Hal.

The stall is closed, it’s late and the barred dock houses by the cobbled swan look full to bursting and surrounded by Templars, so I don’t risk getting closer.

Finding my way to his house is easy, though the streets are emptying faster than I would like, removing some of the anonymity a crowd provides.

I’m relieved to find the house intact and the lights on.

I don’t go in, don’t even make my presence known- just knowing me is a danger today- but I catch a glimpse of Halos through the window, with his daughter. They’re both smiling. It’s a win. I breathe it in, then head for the shadiest place in town. Somewhere someone who wants to lay low might find a secluded corner to disappear into. Somewhere the Archon’s Palace can’t see. Somewhere underground.

The Threads Market looms up to greet me, mostly undisturbed. The underground vantage really helping in keeping the worst of the dragon attack at bay. It’s more crowded than usual. Lots of people have lost homes to the dragon attack and now even the usual safe spaces have been cleared out.

I try to remain inconspicuous as I pass through the market, avoiding puddles of unknowable liquids.

“Neve Gallus,” a voice from behind me startles me with familiarity. Thankfully, it was one I recognised. Sadly, it was Elek Tavor.  

“Elek,” I greet, pushing the hood back from my face. No need to hide if he knows I’m here. “How did you know?”

He looks down at where the cloak stops, just below my knees, and then back up. I sigh, heavily.

“If you’re planning to hand me over to the Venatori- I’d prefer it if you just stab me yourself instead. It’d save me a lot of trouble.”

“Relax, Neve,” he says, easy smile never faltering. “We’re friends. I’m not going to hand my friends over to the Venatori for a few measly coin. How low is your opinion of me?”

“You don’t want me to answer that question. Are we friends?” I wasn’t in a position to question offered friendship, but I did it anyway.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re paranoid?”

“Frequently.” A friendship based off him almost getting me killed and me getting him arrested didn’t sound like a good friendship, but I was running low on options.

“What about ‘you’re a mess’? Anyone ever told you that?”

I narrow my eyes at him, he shrugs.

“Hey, cool it with the daggers. Only a true friend would tell you that you look like shit… You look like shit.”

I can’t even argue with him. It’s been less than a day since the dragon attack ended and I haven’t changed my clothes or washed my face.

“Some of us haven’t had the time to spare for sprucing up appearances,” I say, dryly.

“Oh, is that it?” He’s angling to something. “So it’s got nothing to do with your little flat going up in smoke? And the Venatori search parties that have been sniffing around?”

It’s all I can do to keep from rolling my eyes. Leave it to the Threads to know about things happening in this city. That’s why I go to him for leads, though. I just wasn’t expecting it to turn into such a double edged sword.

“What’s your angle?” I ask, tired of being given the runaround.

He looks offended for a moment. It’s a very convincing ruse, I almost believe him. Then he seems to remember who he’s talking to and plasters his smile back on.

“No angle, just offering a neighbourly hand. Get you all cleaned up, get you some food, give you a place to rest free of Venatori, guaranteed.”

“And you get what?” He must think I was born yesterday if he thinks I can’t see the looming shadow of debt. Being indebted to the Threads isn’t something I’m interested in.

“Nothing, we just want to help out.” I can feel the slime dripping from his tone. Too sickly sweet to be real.

“Forget it. I’m not interested.”

“Alright, fine. You caught me. One job. You owe us finding one person of our choosing, we protect you in the here and now.”

I consider my options. Turn around, go back to the streets where the guard patrols have my name, where I don’t have a house, where the safehouses are gone and I’m public enemy…probably number five or something. I don’t warrant top of the list, I have no delusions about that.

Or agree to a nebulous job in the future. Finding one person for Threads. Probably someone who’s skipped out on a debt to them. There’s no clause saying I can’t warn them once I find them and the Threads are good for protection rackets. It’s one of their biggest markets. “Fine. One job.”

Elek smiles and points his finger at me. “You won’t regret it.”

“I already do.”

True to his word, I’m given a change of clothes and some kind of soup. It goes well with the cheese bread Birdy had given me.

I decide to eat first and clean up after.

I’m given a small room with a partially collapsed wall that has been hastily repaired with wooden planks to afford some privacy and stave off the worst of the sea breeze. It’s mostly full of boxes, leading me to believe it was probably a store room before it was turned into a rudimentary guest suite.

It’s enough that I can strip down and wash the ash and blood from my skin using a washcloth and a basin of freezing water that I expend a little magic over to bring up to room temperature.

I can also give myself a thorough check-over, following the dragon attack. It looks like the enchanted robes and hastily applied ice magic have protected me from the worst of the fire damage, there’s no obvious burns. Though, there’s bruising all up my left side. I must have hit something pretty hard at some point.

I check for broken ribs, just in case I haven’t felt it by now. Nothing.

There are scrapes and cuts almost everywhere I had exposed skin- and some places I didn’t. But nothing major or life-altering.

I also take a moment to remove my prosthetic. The relief is instantaneous, it’s not designed for days of wear on end. The end of my leg is tender to the touch. What I wouldn’t give for a hot bath. I lay an icy palm over it instead. That helps too, but reminds me to be quick about changing.

The clothes I’ve been provided are nondescript, beige trousers and an overlarge once-white shirt. Elek has included a scarf in my signature colour of choice- and I wrap it around my waist as a makeshift belt. To keep the shirt cinched and stop it slipping.

There’s a knock at the door and I consider the option of putting my leg back on to answer it, in case I have to make a run for it. But the Venatori are unlikely to knock, so I use my staff for support instead. It’s not the intended purpose, but it allows me to move the two steps to open the door.

Elek is on the other side. He eyes my make-shift cane and raises an eyebrow.

“Looks like I was right, and you could use this.” He holds out a real cane. I take it gratefully and swap my weapon for a walking stick. I miss the crutch that used to sit beside my bed for late night stumbling around the apartment, topped with a cushioning enchantment to make it easier on my arm.

The stick will do. I’ve had worse. Elek looks like he’s waiting for something.

“Thanks,” I say, after thinking about it for a moment.

“Right. Thought you’d like to know that we’ve got people posted at every entrance to the Market. If they get so much as a whiff of Venatori or Templars they’re to report in. So, we’ve got eyes out.”

He almost means it to be comforting. I almost appreciate the effort.

“You’ve had your eyes all over the city all day.” It’s a statement of fact, not a question. I know he has, because I would have done the same if I were him.

“Sure. What about it?”

“What happened to the Shadows, Elek? I can’t get near their base. The place is trashed. Someone sold them out.”

He has the good grace to look cut up about it.

“Look, Neve, not even we knew where the hideout was until today-” he stammers.

“I’m not accusing you, I’m asking for details.” I’ll save my judgement on who sold out the Shadows until I have enough information to make a correct accusation.

“Right. You might wanna take a seat.” He gestures at the pallet bed in the room behind me. I can almost believe he cares. Almost.

“I can handle it.” I sit down anyway, because my arm is aching where I’m gripping the cane.

He hovers in the doorway. In another life I might have made a joke about him being a gentleman.

“The hideout,” I prompt, when it feels like he’s never going to start speaking again.

“Right.” I’m fed up of hearing that word. I grit my teeth. Elek continues, “there was no word from the Archon’s Palace at all last night. Not since the reports that there had been dozens of Venatori agents spotted heading into the Magisterium. The dragon- well, you saw it. The Palace didn’t fire on it once. They were totally cut off- for hours. And then just after dawn there was some paperwork dropped off to the Templars. Along with a boost of recruits.”

“The Venatori,” I say. He nods.

“They took charge of everything, and around mid-afternoon- they attacked the Pawn Shop. At least, that’s what it looked like to people outside. Like I said, we had no idea the Shadows were in there… Until they started dragging people out and tossing them into slave carts, prison transports, whatever else they had. Some of them badly bleeding, some of them not moving at all… we don’t have an exact number. But they dragged them all away.”

The soup was starting to feel like it was about to come back up.

“Where did they take them?” Maybe if I focus on the details, I can stop thinking about the blood on the steps.

“Some of them went down towards the docks, to the warehouses, to the templar holding pens- wherever there was space.”

That explained the miscellaneous cart tracks I’d seen in the plaza outside the Shop and the crowds around the dock slave pen.

“Did you recognise anyone being taken away?” It was worth asking. Elek didn’t know Ashur or Tarquin and I intended to keep it that way. But The Viper is recognisable, especially in his current state. “Or see anyone distinctive?”

He shook his head. “No, just a lot of people in grey jumpsuits. And a lot of slaves.”

The refugees. Anyone who had been hiding out in the Shop while Ashur secured them a way out of the city. They were going to get sent straight back to the slave pens, or their old masters, or the slave market.

And it would be foolish to think the Dragons were just going to be imprisoned. That wasn’t nearly public enough for the Venatori. They had to prove they had control.

I had to prioritise.

“Thanks, Elek. You’ve given me a place to start.”

“What are you going to do?”

I reach for my metal leg. “Whatever I can.”

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

UNTIL THE DROP.

They say the city never sleeps, it just does a very good impression of it. There’s always a shady deal happening in a nearby alley, always someone or something curled up in a doorway, always a virtuous soul looking to fall. The work never stops, and I should have known that would also be true for the Venatori.

Elek manages to get my clothes cleaned and mended, I don’t ask how and he doesn’t offer the information. I feel better in my armour, even though I know it makes me more noticeable, more obvious.

The thing is, I’m not really hiding.

It’s easy to see that most of the templars aren’t doing their jobs, or don’t care enough about the regime change to properly screen every person walking past them and who could blame them? A city this big?

Finding one criminal is like finding the cursed gem in a chest of jewels.

Easy, if you know what you’re doing.

Luckily for me, the templars don’t. And unluckily for the Venatori, I’m not currently for hire.

And I’m an expert at remaining unseen, if I do say so myself.

I keep my head down as I weave through the morning market. It seems almost normal, if not for the empty stalls and added guards on every corner. They’re too busy picking on a beggar who has the misfortune of being an elf to take notice of me in the early crowds.

The cheese seller yells about finest Orlesian offerings and the fruit seller offers 30% off bruised apples. I move past them both. The Temple of Andraste looms up on my right, just over the bridge. There’s dozens of people crowded outside the gates. Crowded, I realise a moment later, close to the Wall of Light.

I jut out my chin and keep walking.

That’s the other thing about the templars- they’re going to be looking for someone suspicious. They’re not going to be looking for someone acting like they own the place.

There are people weeping openly under the covered walkway. That’s not unusual.

What is unusual is the crowd gathered at the other end of the street. Someone is talking over the top of the chatter and opinions seem to be divided. There are some shouts of encouragement and some jeering and each step closer opens up the pit in my stomach, filled with the fear that I’m not going to like what I see when I round the corner.

It isn’t too late to walk away- but I already know I won’t. I make it to the back of the crowd and push my way forwards, brandishing my staff at anyone who dares turn to snap at me. It makes them back off.

The horror, it turns out, is warranted.

The structures the slaves had been building the day before, the ones I’d mistaken for stages or market stalls, stand as fifteen foot monuments to the new regime. In the form of gallows.

And on those gallows, familiar figures. Both the hooded Venatori agents holding onto the levers and the…equally hooded Shadow Dragons, standing on the raised plinths.  

My blood is ice, and so is the air around me. The temperature plummets. People in the crowd edge away.

I adjust my grip on the staff in my hand.

There’s some small, sensible part of me that tells me this isn’t. That I’m surely hopelessly outnumbered and that giving up my life to try and save four people isn’t worth it.

I don’t care.

The Fade is within easy reach and I summon blades of ice as if it was nothing, throwing my arms wide and watching the ice arc and slice through rope and Venatori alike. Blood splatters the walls and cobbles. The Shadows on the gallows are free from immediate danger. I’m not.

Chaos erupts in the crowd. I’m pushed and jostled as people attempt to flee. Alarms are raised. Armour clatters as Templars try and control the crowd, or maybe just try and push their way through it to get to me.

I move without thinking. There’s a slave cart between the two sets of gallows with people still in it. At least one of them yells my name. I freeze the lock and smash it to pieces with a solid blow from my metal foot.

If it had been chaos before, it’s pandemonium now, as the freed Shadow Dragons shove out of the cart and start wrestling weapons from Venatori agents and Templars alike.

There’s a rush to help the hooded, bound Shadows still on the gallows stage and I lose track of where they go as I’m dived on by two Venatori with their usual bloodletting tools.

I push them back with freezing blasts and thrust my arm upwards to convince the ice to follow suit, going right through a zealot. I barely have time to admire my handiwork before a blade skims across my ribs as another zealot swings at me. My coat takes the brunt but I still feel the bite. I toss him away with another freezing blast of magic.

More Templars pour into the plaza.

“Run!” Someone shouts. And the Shadows do.

Say anything you want about the Venatori, but they know how to pick a staging ground with few options for exits.

There’s the way the Templars are coming- from the direction of the Chantry and the Market, or the way that leads down towards the Wharf Crossing and the docks.

Everyone chooses the latter option.

There’s no sense to it, only a mad scramble through the streets. Some break away towards the tunnels, some towards the southern docks, some towards the northern docks. It’s a blur of shoving through crowds and past Templars trying valiantly to block the route.

But they can’t catch everyone, and most of the people running aren’t Shadows or wanted criminals, they’re just scared civilians.

The scattered crowd begins to blend in with the regular crowds. The Templars seem out of their depth.

I take the opportunity to slink away, towards the docks, hood pulled up over my head, staff shoved hastily between the folds of fabric.

I am stopped, abruptly, as I reach the Wharf Crossing, heart sinking, blood running cold. Again.

More gallows. Only these gallows have bodies hanging from them. They sway in the breeze, ropes and wood creaking. The Shadow Dragon basic gear the only identifying features.

The dawning realisation that this must be happening across the city is chilling. That there could be untold numbers of dead and that I hadn’t so much prevented a tragedy as released a basket of chickens inside a slaughterhouse.

“Dumat’s Teeth…”

I’d been stood still too long, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the gently swaying figures. The regular day crowd moved around me, at odds with the scene unfolding. The bar was still open, the paper seller still shouted from the corner, the food vendors still peddled their wares.

The only indication that something was wrong with this picture was the sidelong glances people kept giving the gallows. And the smell.

And the extra guards posted on the exits.

I struggle to maintain control of my breathing, of the anger that bubbles up again.

I can’t fight forever and I shouldn’t sacrifice myself for the sake of the dead. The dead don’t care.

So I walk away, with confidence, strolling past the guards with a steady, even gait and a determined air.

One of them turns, I hear the armour scrape slightly. “Hey, you-“

So much for that plan. I break into a run.

There’s a clattering sound as the Templars give chase.

My foot aches.

My knee hurts.

I long for my bed.

I miss my home.

I really miss not being hunted down like a dog in my own city.

I don’t look back and I easily outpace the Templars.

I take turn after turn, side streets and narrow alleys and rooftop highways until I’m sure the Templars are gone and there’s no-one on my trail.

Or at least, I thought there was no-one on my trail.

“Neve.” Tarquin appears out of an alley. I stare at him blankly, not sure how he managed to find me, but not angry that he has. His expression is an echo of the rage and grief I feel. I brace for more bad news. Instead, he says, “Come on. Ashur needs you, we’ve got lots of work to do.”

Ashur was alive. Ashur was still fighting. Ashur had a job for me.

A job. I could focus on a job.

And get back to making Minrathous better.

One step at a time.  

This…was going to take a while.

Time to send a letter to the Lighthouse and get to work.

[daitranscripts]

Skyhold Ambient Dialogue

Mage Specialist Banter

Skhyold Masterpost

—

Necromancer PC

Viuus: I think we can agree this was for the best.

Helaine: I will not, and she cannot. She is quiet as the grave.

Viuus: You, my friend, are mistaken.

Helaine: I am not your friend.

Viuus: Ooh, I've been "knight-enchanted"!

—

Rift-mage PC

Your Trainer: I am [Their] Trainer.

Helaine: It is a mistake. Power so new and unproven is no boon to the field.

Viuus: Lighten up, Helaine. She knows her business. And little else.

Your Trainer: I am [Their] Trainer. And you're an ass.

Viuus: (Laughs.) You see!

—

Knight-enchanter PC

Helaine: A choice well made, I should think.

Viuus: If you like that sort of thing.

Helaine: You’re one to talk.

Viuus: Someone has to make up for glassy-eyes here.

—

Helaine: The last battle, the grand melee, you couldn't see the ground to walk on it. Ten thousand dead or more.

Viuus: And then?

Helaine: There is no "and then." Ten thousand dead.

Viuus: Right, right, early night for you lot.

Rift-mage PC Your Trainer: A bad time for the ground to open up and heave the bodies skyward like so many playthings. (Nervous laugh.) Viuus: The lady knows how to throw a party.

Non-rift mage PC Helaine: Go play with your skulls.

—

Viuus: We dress them sometimes. Anoint them with the finest scents.

Helaine: You are not seeming any more acceptable.

Viuus: Right, right. Because it's far more reasonable that the Orlesian nobility do the same to their pet nugs.

Helaine: You will speak no ill of Mister Snuffles.

Rift-mage PC Your Trainer: The energy stored in a Fade shard can compress seventeen nugs to the size of a man's head. They fit right in. Viuus: Well… I do love a parlor trick.

Non-rift mage PC Viuus: Why not Lord Snuffles? Dare to dream!

—

Viuus: Who’s buying?

Helaine: She’s buying.

Rift-mage PC Your Trainer: I am buying!

Non-rift mage PC Viuus: Leave her be.

—

Viuus: It’ll be soon.

Helaine: I expect so.

Your Trainer: I am agreeing.

—

Helaine: An epic effort.

Viuus: Never seen the like.

Your Trainer: I can’t remember better.

[invinciblerodent]

yeah, you know what, I nuked this post last night because I got very uncertain about the room immediately after posting, but after some further scrutiny, I'm reposting it now with some slightly calmer, more hinged commentary lol

consensus seems to be (from the tweet I initially was going off of about the view from his room, and the qunari paraphernalia and training equipment in the basement-room kind of confirming that that one must be Taash's, despite this one having a lot of dragons in it) that this IS indeed Davrin's room, and I wanna talk about some (though not all) parts of interest in it!

Overall the room looks very airy and open, but cozy and warm, if a touch on the sparse side- I'm getting a little bit of a hunter's lodge vibe, which is fitting for a monster hunter like him.

1.) he apparently loves nugs. and dragons. and bears. and animals, and learning about animals in general, if those diagrams are anything to go by. and I love that for him.

2.) no seriously there are six wooden nug bobblehead-looking things visible just in this one snapshot in his room. this man is INTO nugs. (I hope he and Leliana get to meet. he deserves to pet Schmooples XIV.)

3.) his carving station! it seems to be a fairly common Warden hobby, and he seems to take it seriously too- just look at that dragon's wing and how thin the part it attaches to the body with is, he's very skilled!

he was making something in this piece of promo art too!

3.5.) please ser Davrin please i want a little carved nug as a little gift i would cherish it forever i wouldn't ask for anything else for the next 20 birthdays i have please

4. Assan's "landing pad", maybe? I like the thought of him taking little nightly laps around the Lighthouse, but geez, it looks so dangerous to have the wall just open like that- must feel the most like sleeping under the open air though?

4.5.) from this and Taash's open ceiling I'm guessing that it just fully does not rain at the Lighthouse, which is great, no wet griffon smell in bed

5.) really loving that Veilfire sconce on the wall- it looks exactly like the asset from Inquisition, and it could be a pretty subtle hint to something Dalish going on!

6.) the clothes/blankets/whatever those are on the cozy chair seem to mirror the colors of his outfit, the Warden blue and the light brown leather- is he perhaps prone to leaving his clothes strewn about? 👀 both Wardens and the Dalish should be used to traveling a lot and living light, so it would make sense for him to not be a super neat person overall! (maybe the only reason the room isn't a right mess is that he doesn't have many possessions, they don't even fill both bookcases)

7.) god if Rook doesn't get to cuddle with him in his cozy chair by the fire (or on those furs, I'm not picky) and watch the sunrise together after a night of vigorous lovemaking that tests the limits of even that fabled Grey Warden stamina, I am going to be very, very sad

8.) Davrin darling. why do you have this. and does it really need to watch. ..... can we turn it so it faces the wall at least. god, Dorian was right (among various other things) about the horrible little feet nugs possess.

anyway the trend continues and everything I learn about this guy makes me want to eat one (1) more brick altogether until i assemble a castle in my stomach from which he can rescue me like the charming knight he is, thank u for ur time

[sirfrogsworth]

My First "Viral" Post

Like, 20 people told me to submit my Brady Bunch GIFset to @world-heritage-posts and hundreds more tagged it #worldheritagepost.

So I was like, "OKAY OKAY, I'll submit it!"

And they never posted it.

Which is completely fine!

WHP, it's cool. We're cool. I don't need World Heritage Post reblogs.

I have reblogs at home.

(my reblogs at home)

I am definitely *NOT* going to do the "DON'T YOU KNOW WHO I AM???" thing.

I only do cool and funny "Don't you know who I am?" interactions like Tony Hawk.

But when I submitted the post it reminded me of an even earlier time on Tumblr when there were only a few people who could make a post go viral.

The main one was called @thedailywhat. If something got posted there, it could get HUNDREDS of notes.

HUNDREDS!!!!

Oh, that's another funny thing. Several people commented "Why does this only have 20K notes!!???"

There are currently 135 million active users on Tumblr and the site got roughly 2.4 billion visits in 2023.

In all of 2010 the entire site got 50 million visitors. Not users. Just people who went to a Tumblr address during that entire year.

In any case, if you thought you created something cool and you wanted more than 10 people to see it, you had to submit your cool thing to The Daily What. It was the first Tumblr to reach 100,000 followers which was more than the actual founder of Tumblr had at the time.

It was run by a single person but he was very private and never revealed his name.

His emails were very cryptic.

I'm pretty sure he sold the site and went to live on a beach or something. But whoever bought it did not understand how to run the blog and the final post was in 2013.

I'm not surprised the new owner crashed and burned. Johnny Internets was irreplaceable. He really understood what would connect with people. Nearly everything he posted would gain decent popularity. I'm not sure people realize how much of a skill curating content can be and how hard it is to post popular things with consistency.

He would reject a lot of content outright and was very picky about what went on his Tumblr. But when he actually posted something you made, it was almost guaranteed to go viral.

Well, viral relative to the time period.

I suspect I submitted nearly a hundred things before he finally agreed to reblog me. And I still remember the first thing I submitted that he liked.

I posted this in 2010. How many notes do you think it got?

Probably a million, right?

No less than 100K.

I mean, look at how cute that panda is!

SONOFABITCH!

Back then, that was enough.

But that was just me putting words on something. My ultimate goal was to get him to post one of my original photoshops.

And do you see how he gave proper attribution? That meant a lot during a time when other curators were cropping my watermarks and claiming things as their own.

A real mensch, this Mysterious Stranger was.

These two posts got me enough traction to grow my following and before I knew it, I was The Daily What for other people. I was able to help other artists and content creators get traction and grow their following.

It was a beautiful Tumblr version of paying it forward. Only not as awkward as those weirdos who do it in drive-thru lines.

I ONLY GOT A SODA AND NOW I GOTTA PAY FOR 40 MCNUGGETS?

It's fine.

Enjoy your nugs.

[spadecentral]

🍟 3 AM Nuggies | Ruggie Bucchi x Reader

>> requested: yes, by @tulipluvlettr >> a/n: yay third req for the special!!

>> masterlist: 400 fllr. special , here!! >> summary: you and ruggie go get banned from a 7/11 >> reader prns: they/them >> warning(s): none

You woke up in the middle of the night to your stomach growling. Intertwined with your boyfriend's limbs, you weaseled your way out of bed, believing that Ruggie was successfully kept asleep.

Groaning as you open the door, you drag your feet across the floor as you make your way into the kitchen. Hissing from the light of the fridge, you stare aimlessly at its contents. Deciding against making anything, you close the door and stop back to the bedroom with a new task at hand.

"Ruggie," you say, only to see your boyfriend awake and waiting for your return.

"Yes, babe?" he groans, rubbing his eyes.

"7/11 is 100 percent open right now," you smirk. "Wanna go get some chicken nuggets?"

"It's literally..." Ruggie leans over and checks your alarm clock. "3:05 AM right now."

"And?" you ask, placing your hands on your hips.

"Valid point," Ruggie pulls back his covers and pulls on his crocks. "Lets go!"

Walking into the 7/11, you and Ruggie both split off to get whatever snacks the both of you needed. You dashed over to the counter and found the nuggets. Staring at them with intensity, the teenager working behind the counter came up to you.

"...You want some nugs?"

"O-oh, uh, yeah." you smile awkwardly.

"'lrighty then," they said, opening up the glass to get to them. "How many didja want?"

"Uh... like 20 or something?" you rub the bck of your neck.

"Babe I got the shit!" Ruggie came up from behind you with two slushies and a shit ton of candy.

"Oh hell yeah!" you smile, excited.

You could hear a groan coming from the cashier, but you didn't mind it. As long as you got your nuggets, that was all that mattered.

"Alright, follow me to the register." the cashier said.

"Actually," Ruggie said, holding up his finger. "If you could just... hand them over to me, that would be great."

You sighed as you realized what he was doing. "Ruggie..."

"C'mon! Laugh with me!" Ruggie said nonchalantly.

"H-hey... why are my limbs moving...?"

Snatching the chicken nuggets, Ruggie started running. "Lets go! Out, out, out!"

"I'm so sorry!" you yelled while throwing a couple tens on the ground.

You were most likely going to get banned from that 7/11 as well.

>> twst taglist: @ghost-hyacinth | @oseathepebble | @ventisaircurrent | @epelys | @pastelmages | @xphantasmagoriax | @atlasnessie | @divinesapph | @ze-maki-nin | @booming-spam | @rayisalive | @ruggiethethuggie | @queerlordsimon | @kyraxiyn

[fangirlstorycreator]

Alastor X Reader

Context: Alastor saves you, and you both, surprisingly grow closer. When you defend him from an old aquatence of his, Alastor's fondness for you grows. But when you find yourself in danger, Alastor will stop at nothing to get you back, especially when your in the hands of one of his enemies...

Contains: Asexual Alastor, Asexual Reader, but romance is involved, swearing, mentions of injury, kidnap, attempted sexual assault, hypnosis, Not for minors

P.S. Anytime you see writing in red, that is when Alastor is speaking with his static demonic radio voice

Part 2/4

Days had passed since you spoke to Alastor, and quite frankly, you didn't want to talk to him right now. You would never think to do something to him or manipulate him into doing something against his will, just like many overlords tend to do. Anyway, there were times you happend to catch sight of him when he wandered the halls, and it was bizarre. Because every time you saw him, weather he was walking from one room to another, helping Nifty out of the toilet again, or just wondering through the hotel, his complete concentration was on the book you leant him, An Inspector Calls. He had his head buried in that thing, paying little to no attention to anyone who walked past him, it seemed he genuinely liked the book. But that aside, you didn't speak to him, at all, you were still a little annoyed about the other day when he dragged you into his room. So you did everything you could to distract yourself from Alastor, and that day, coming down the stairs one afternoon, Angel was at the bottom putting on Fat Nuggets harness, when he saw you, smiling at you happily.

"Heya toots! I was gunna take little nugs hear for a walk. Wanna come?"

"Sure, why not"

"Sweet. Let's go"

You didn't see, but as you left the hotel, Alasor had watched you leave, smile still beaming, but his eyes spoke a different emotion. On your walk around the city, you and Angel chatted happily about your times at the hotel, and what he was having to do at work.

"Val seriously makes you do that?"

"Oh fuck yeh! That descustin smoke of his can turn into ropes, or chains, and it can force me to do whatever the fuck he wants me to do. Most of the time I just pretend I like it, otherwise I'll get some more bruises. Did you know he can hypnotise too? But only once he's kissed yah, that fuckin pink saliva of his is gross!"

"Oh Angel, that's awful. I'm so sorry you have to go through that"

"Ah it's alright, drugs help. But anyway, I've noticed you and Al ain't been talkin much. Whats up with that?"

"It's...it's nothing really"

"Ah come on toots, it's alright, I'm a good listener"

"......It's just that....I thought me and Alastor had a friendship"

"I didn't think he had any of those. I'm just kiddin baby, carry on"

"After I saw him fall alseep, and put a blanket on him so he'd stay warm.....I guess he....saw that as me attempting to break his trust, and that I was doing it to make him weaker"

"Ah, that's just Al, don't take it to personal babe. Alastor's got enemies everywhere, I'm surprised he ain't accused everyone in the hotel at this point. Just don't let it get to yeh toots, if he's got any brain cells in that head of his, he'll work out that you ain't like that"

"Thank's Angel, that does help. Say, did you know Alastor can create and use tentacles?"

"He what?! I didn't know that! I won't lie to yah, it sounds kinda hot"

"Aaand that's because you've told me how much you like bondage Angel"

"Yeehhh...I bet tentacles can do all sorts of things....Hey! There's that toy place I told yah about! You wanna come in and see it?"

"Nah I'm ok, I'll just wait outside for you"

"Are the sure babe? Little nugs loves when you walk with us"

"I know, and I love doing it. I'll be right outside, you can let him pick a new toy"

"Alright babe, I'll be a few minutes"

You leaned against the wall when Angel and Fat Nuggets entered the shop, just wanting a little quiet from all the sex talk Angel kept going on about. You rub at your eyes, then your temple, slight headache brewing. You were glad the walk was almost over, and just wanted to relax at the hotel.

"Hey there pretty lady......whatcha doin out hear, all on your own?"

Asked this creep, drool running down the left side of his chin, one hand on his belt, the other on his hip, attempting to look attractive.

"I'm contemplating weather to burn down the V's entire enterprise, what do you think I'm doing? I'm waiting for my friend, and I'm not in the mood to chat right now"

"Ahh...a smart one are you? Why don't you use that quick little mouth you've got, to give me a blowy behind the shop?"

"I would rather walk barefoot over a field of lego pieces. Piss off you creep"

"Awww, does the naughty little lady need a big strong man to punish her?"

"Considering your hands are smaller than mine, you really aren't that threatening you unsharpened pencil"

"Hey! I ain't no pencil!"

"Ughh. If there was a disease that ate peoples brains to survive, it would starve if it got locked in the empty skull of yours"

"Oh yeh? Well say that to my fucking gun bitch!"

This asshole pulled out his gun, pointing right in your face as you flinched, and yet, no bullet was fired. Opening your eyes, the gun in this guys hand had been wrapped around and was tightening in a black tentacle, squeezing tighter and tighter, causing the creep to fall to his knees in pain. That's when Alastor walks up to him, staring him down with his dark expression.

"Oh ho ho......you made a veeery big mistake there....sinner.......Noone......I repeat......NOONE HARMS THIS WOMAN!!"

"(Screams in pain) Hey I'm-I'm sorry alright?! I didn't know she was-"

"SHE IS MY FRIEND!! You'll do well to remember that......"

His tentacle tightened one last time, breaking the gun and snapping the creeps wrist like a twig. His screams of pain could practically be heard in all the streets of pentagram city.

"Now......leave......BEFORE I KILL YOU!!!"

This guy couldn't get to his feet quick enough, clutching at his broken wrist as he spead in the opposite direction, you think he even wet himself a little too.

"Hey toots! I'm sorry I didn't know you was gettin mugged out hear! Nice one smiles, seems I got to see your tentacles in action! Super hot..."

"Hmm....not what I liked refer to my...appendages Angel, but never mind. Are you alright my dear? He didn't hurt you did he?"

"No no, I'm fine. Thank's....you didn't have to do that"

"But of course I did. A young lady should not have to face a danger on her own, absolutely not. Angel?"

"Alright, before you say anythin Alastor, I was on my way out to help Y/N"

"That is not what I was goin to say. Angel, I wish to speak with Y/N alone, if you wouldn't mind? I will make sure she is safely escorted back to the hotel"

"Uh? You alright with this toots?"

"Yeh it's fine. I'll see you later Angel"

"Alright, I'll see yas later"

Angel walked Fat Nuggets down the street, allowing you and Alastor to talk alone.

"And I thought Angel would kick up a fuss. It seems he is not as annoying as usual, I'll have you to thank for that"

"What do you want Alastor?"

"Ah...yes, I do remember how things were left between us....might we take a walk? I wish to tell you my side"

".......fine......"

"Wonderful"

For the first few minutes of your walk back with Alastor, there was just silence, not uncomfortable, just silent.

"So.....I'd just like to thank you for allowing me the time to tell you my side"

"It's fine..."

"Alright......I apologise"

"Huh?"

"I apologise for my behaviour. I thought hard about your words, and what you were trying to do for me, and for that, I apologise. I must confess, I have had enemies throughout my life as a human and an overlord, infact, I've had more enemies than freshly made jambalaya dishes!"

"Ok...."

"And I......I assumed, because of my past, and those in it, that....everyone is a potential threat. I've only known one person whome I trusted dearly, and....and I don't wish to talk about them right now. But what I can tell you, is that my actions were uncalled for, and the way I spoke to you and treated you that day I brought you too my room, was very bad of me"

"I felt hurt that you thought I was a threat to you Alastor. You've been nice to me, and all I wanted to do was return the favour. Show you my appreciation, show you that I care"

"And I know that now.....I haven't.....I haven't had anyone hear in hell......see me in, what I think of as a vulnerable position.....and do anything that would give me safety. Most evil beings would take that chance to harm me...take my staff....anything cruel..."

"But I'm not like that Alastor"

"I know.....I know that now. You have shown me through your actions and kind words, that I should not.....I should not have questioned your motives.....maybe, in time.....I can learn to trust another....trust you"

"I hope for that too...."

Even though he never stopped smiling, this one he was giving you felt more genuine. It was his eyes, there weren't focused or judging, they were calm and relaxed. And his demeanor was a happy one now that he could talk to you again, it got easier and easier to speak to him on the way back to the hotel, it was just nice to feel like you weren't his enemy again. The last thing you'd want, is to be his enemy, infact you...actually liked him...more than you were letting on. He was a true gentleman back at the hotel, and he showed you that he wanted to regain your trust by showing you his radio station.

According to him, when he was showing you how he connects to his radio, he had not allowed anyone else in this area, not even Charlie. You felt honoured, like the trust was slowly building back up again, and what better way for him to to show you that, than by allowing you into his safe space, when noone else had been there before. You and Alastor laughed, talked and discussed his radio, and he even showed you how to tune it to find the right frequency, it was lovely. After the few hours in his radio room, you both went to the lobby with everyone else, to take part in yet another activity Charlie had planned, and thanks to you asking him nicely, Alasotr actually joined in with this one. But he wouldn't do it with anyone else, just you. Angel tried to push his luck in this second round of trust falls, by aiming for Alastor, but as quick as a flash, his shadow engulfs him, and moves his body to where you are stood, making Angel fall on his ass. And yet, when you did it, Alastor caught you, without any hesitation.

"Wow Alastor! You did the trust fall! And caught someone! I'm so proud of you"

"Why thank you Charlie. I couldn't let our dear Y/N possibly hurt herself in that exercise, could I?"

You could overhear Angel muttering about Alastor as he walked to the bar.

"Fuckin asshole..."

You just chuckled, Angel knew Alastor wouldn't catch him, it's not exactly surprising.

"Now then! I do believe it's time for me to exit the hotel for my overlords meeting. Take care Charlie, I'll see you very soon Y/N"

"Buy Alastor"

You say before he leaves, you didn't know overlords had meetings? Course, being a sinner, you didn't know much about overlords, other than not to mess with them. Except for Vox, he was just being an asshole the day you kicked him in the balls, overlord or not, he was a real dickhead. The rest of the afternoon was pretty slow, and you didn't feel like hanging out in the big group, so you slipped away to your room. Lying on your bed and reading another book, an idea formed in your mind, after reading two characters exchange gifts to show their appreciation for eachother. And you wondered, if you could do that for Alastor? To show him that he is important to you, especially after apologising for his behaviour. Why not? Having a think, you write a few ideas on your notepad, grab your handbag, coat and shoes, and make your way out of the hotel and towards the shopping centre in pentagram city. Unfortunately, most of the shops there, were quite modern, not something Alastor would enjoy anything from, he was far more old fashioned than this. Taking a walk around, you find an antique shop, perfect! It smelled of oak and old clothes in hear, the shop was quite dark, small, but was totally Alastor's aesthetic. You wave to the shop owner to let him know that your there, then started to browse. Nothing much caught your eye when you first looked, and you knew what you wanted to get him before you left, it was just a matter of finding something like it. Then there, out of the corner of your eye, under a stack of boxes and news papers, a flicker of colour. Moving the things out of the way, there you saw it, the perfect thing to give to Alastor. A few hours later back at the hotel, Alastor had yet to come back, and it was only you and Angel chatting in the lobby.

"So like, nothin? No sexy thoughts or feelin's at all?"

"Nope"

"That's so strange, not bad toots, just strange. Comin from me who loves sex, it's kinda hard to wrap my head around someone who don't like that kinda thing"

"I can't deny, I did feel like a freak when I was growing up, like the odd one out. But as I got older, I didn't care. So what if I'm different? I'd rather be my real self that pretend to be something I'm not"

"Hell yeh baby! I love that you don't give a fuck! And again, sorry for when I tried it on with yah before. Your gorgeous and...I thought..."

"Angel, it's fine, I promise"

"So uh, if you don't mind me askin? What are you into?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you say you don't like sex or anythin like that, but don't yah like to feel anythin physical?"

"Oh of course I do"

Unbeknownst to you and Angel, Alastor come back, but is very quiet as he slips past you. But he does linger when he begins to hear this part of the conversation.

"Sex isn't something I like, but that's not to say everything physical is uncomfortable for me. Holding someone's hand, hugging, even big bear hugs, I love those"

Alastor remains out of sight, but listens even more.

"Feeling wanted and cared for, it's a wonderful feeling. I'm not going to lie, the best feeling in the world to me, is when I'm lying in bed with a special someone, they're holding me, and I'm resting my head on their chest....I can't describe how amazing that feeling is...but it's better than perfect"

"Aww that's sweet toots. And what about kissin?"

"Kissing...I do enjoy that too. But, it has to be with someone who understands me and my boundaries, not just some random person on a night out. And it doesn't have to be all hot and dirty like most people do with a one night stand. But I do like it...slow...gentle...like the rest of the world is faiding out around me, and all that's left is me and him. Passionate...sensual....like I'm the only one in the world that matters...."

"....Well......holy fuckin shit baby.....that's gotta be the most romantic thing I've ev'a heard. To be honest, the way you describe that, sounds better than a good hard fuck!"

"Uh, thanks Angel (giggle) And thanks for listening, it's nice not to have anymore awkwardness between us anymore"

"I agree, and I ain't even annoyed with Al anymore. I can see why he hit me when I was sayin that stuff to yah"

"Yeh, sorry about him doing that"

"Ain't nothin to be sorry about toots, it's obvious the guy cares about yah"

At that moment, Alasor slips away and towards his room.

"Are you working tonight?"

"Nah, thank fuck! Mr and Cherri are goin to a club to get fucked up. Wanna come?"

"No thanks, but you enjoy"

"Oh I will baby (his phone vibrates) Hey! That's Cherri now! She says 'I'm out side you fuckin light weight' Ah, I love that bitch. A'right, I'll see yah lat'ah roots!"

And he was out of the hotel before you could say his name. It was nice clearing the air with Angel, it was awkward with him after he hit on you, but now you were friends, and he understood your boundaries. Getting up and grabbing a drink from the bar, you notice Alastor's radio stick is leaning against the bar. That's strange? He never leaves the hotel without it, that must mean he's home. Using your sence of decency, you take it and make your way to to his room. You know that if it was left around, others in the hotel might use it to fuck around. Knocking on Alastor's door, you wait patiently for him to open it. When he does, you can tell by the look in his eyes, that he is genuinely happy to see you.

"Ah! Hello my dear. I see you spotted my staff"

"Yes, I didn't want it to get lost, or fall into Angel's hands. You remember what he said about it last time?"

"Oh yes, that he would like to (looks away uncomfortably) Use it like a dancing pole"

"Yep. So, hear you go. I'll give you some peace"

Turning to walk away, your suddenly stopped when Alastor gentle rests his hand on your shoulder.

"Wait"

"What's wrong Alastor?"

"Nothing my dear.....I was just wondering....if you would care to partake in a night cap with me? I have a lovely beverage I have just prepared...it would be lovely to share in your company"

"That...sounds lovely Alastor, thank you"

Opening the door for you a little more, you entered his room, this time not dragged in by a tentacle. This time around, instead of just seeing Alastor, you were able to see his room in more detail. It definitely felt like him in hear, the colours, the books, animal skulls and candles. And yet, it wasn't unpleasant, this was just his room.

"Hear we are my dear, freshly made"

"Thank you Alastor. (Takes a sip) Oh! That's lovely! It's almost...chocolatey? Or maybe hazelnut?"

"Yes. I remember you telling me that you liked that flavour. So I made this for you specially"

"That's so sweet, you didnt have to do that. Are you drinking the same thing? It looks darker than mine"

"Ah, I do indeed have something different. I'm afraid I'm not a fan of sweets, I much prefer a savory beverage"

"Ok then. (Takes another sip) So when did you get back? I didn't hear you come through the lobby"

"I arrived a short while ago, but I came hear to make this night cap. I did not wish to disturb anyone. And that meeting was a rather long one, quite frankly I did not wish to converse anymore than I needed too"

"Then, why did you invite me in? If you didn't want to talk anymore""

"Conversing with the overlords is far more different than speaking with someone whose company I actually enjoy"

"Aww, that's sweet Alastor"

"Thank you"

".........So.......I actually was hoping to see you tonight Alastor"

"Oh really? How interesting! Do tell me why"

"Since I've been hear in hell, I've found it very hard to be around people, talk...trust. And with you....I want you to know that I do trust you. I enjoy being around you"

".....You......trust me?"

"Yes, I do. And, to show you that I mean it...(reaches into back pocket) I wanted to give you something. It's only small, but it's to show my appreciation. (Hands it to him) A gift from me"

It's wrapped up in this parchment paper, but Alastor takes great care in opening it, carefully and not tearing it too much. His eyes change, look almost like a little doe, cute, big shiny eyes. He sees that the little gift you've given him, is a little keychain, with a little red radio attached. Just like the one he has in his tower.

"Oh my......"

"I know it's not anything big but, I saw it and thought of you. I hope you like it"

"My dear sweet Y/N.......this is beautiful (holds it up and admires it).....I don't know how to thank you"

"There's no need to. I just wanted to show you how much you mean to me"

His eyes met yours, sweet, calm, not like he's looked like previously. It's strange that it's only with you that he smiles with his eyes, not just his mouth.

"My dear......I have not felt this kind of comfort since I was alive....and that was my mother. I...I do not yet feel ready to speak about her, but I want you to know that there have only been two people I have felt comfortable with in my life and afterlife. My mother, and you"

"Oh Alastor, that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me"

"You deserve to be told sweeter things my dear.....in fact you.....you deserve....better things..."

"I'm sorry, what do you mean?"

"I.......I wish to show you....my appreciation..."

He walks over to his small radio on his table, turns the dial, and this beautiful slow jazz music comes on, filling the room with a delightful, happy warmth. When Alastor turns back to you, he clicks his fingers, magically opens his balcony door to the night sky, and offers you his hand.

"Care to share a dance?"

"You want to dance with me? But I, I don't know how, I'm a little embarrassed"

"Don't be, it's just you and me...let me show you..."

Not feeling uneasy about him offering you his hand, you take it, and he slowly and gently pulls you in close to him.

"Do I have your permission to rest my other hand on your hip?"

"(Chuckle) Yes, you can"

Again, he is very gentle and slow, making sure you are comfortable with him touching you. When your the one who should be asking him, shouldn't you? Usually it's Alastor who doesn't like physical contact, and will not allow others to touch him, and yet, hear he was, leading you into a slow dance around his room, holding you close and guiding you through the steps. With the music playing in the background, and him keeping eye contact with you, it felt as if there was nothing else, like the only things to exist in this world right now, were him and you. The more you danced, the more confidence each of you became. You'd laugh lightly when he spins you, as does he, watching the pure happiness in your face, your enjoyment was also his. Lost in the music, you didn't know how long you'd been dancing with him, and nor did you care, it was wonderful. In your moves and spins, you both ended up out on the balcony, under the red stary sky, the air warm, but just the right amount of breeze to bring goosebumps to your arms. The music was still heard loud and clear out there, and feeling this bond with Alastor was truly amazing, and he did look very handsome under the red starlight. Both feeling a little danced out, the music slowed, and so did you and Alastor. Now, he just held your hand in his, swaying with you slowly from side to side, still not looking away.

"I never knew you could dance Alastor"

"Oh, I have many skills my dear. Dancing was one of my favourite ways to pass time when I was alive"

"And now?"

"Now.....it's much more pleasurable....knowing that I have the perfect dance partner"

"I'm not sure perfect is the right word to describe me. I know for a fact that I stepped on your foot at least twice"

"Practice makes perfect my dear, I myself was not always as skilled in this art as I am today. It makes a very pleasant change to dance again. I would not wish for any other person to dance with"

"That's so kind Alastor...thank you"

The moment was calm, the music still slowly playing in the background. Alastor glanced over to his hand that held yours, sighing in a relaxed way, interlocking his fingers with yours.

"I have something I must reveal to you my dear..."

"...Yes?..."

"I.....I did arrive at the hotel tonight....when you were conversing with Angel......"

"Oh? (Blushing and looking away, embarrassed) how um...how much did you hear?"

"...Enough....why are you avoiding my gase my dear?"

"Because I'm embarrassed"

His hand reaches to your chin, turning your face to look him in the eyes.

"Don't be....you spoke about what you like...what you enjoy....and it was very sweet. You...are very sweet. I....I listened, and.....I wanted....to be...that special someone...for you..."

Raising your eyebrows in suprise, you never thought Alastor would be saying anything like this to you.

"Alastor...I...I don't know what to say..."

"Then allow me to ask you two questions....1....If you care for me, like I care for you....may I have the pleasure, a chance...to be your special someone?"

Oh my god! This was so adorable! You'd never seen Alastor be like this! And you could tell it was genuine by the look in his eyes.

"...Alastor...I...........I would like that......very much"

"Ah! Oh that's a wonderful thing to hear. I promise I will show you that I do indeed care for you, above anyone else hear"

".....You uh...you said you had two questions?"

"I did....Y/N.....(his fingers brushing against your cheek)......As long as you want it....and with your permission......I would very much like to kiss you"

"Oh......Alastor........are you sure you want to? I know this kind of physical contact-"

"It is something I would not normally do. Unless it was with the right person......a person whome I trusted. So, my dear...if you'll have me....I'm yours..."

Your heart felt lighter when he told you that, you couldn't help but feel so happy, you seem to finaly have someone who wants the same thing as you, who wants you, and it was Alastor! Nodding to let him know that you would very much like that, his gases softened even more, moving himself a little closer. You couldn't get any words out of you if you tried, the way he expressed his feelings to you made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and it would appear his lips would be even better. Delicately closing the gap between you, with his hand cupping your cheek, his lips pressed to yours, gentle, a sweet and slow peck kiss at first. But once, he finaly flet your touch, his head tilted a little and he kissed you even deeper, no tounge, but there didn't need to be. It was passionate, needy, and made your head spin, if it wasn't for his other hand holding you, you'd be sure your legs would wobble and lose their strength. The moment you both slowly pulled away, it seemed as if neither of you wanted it to end, as if your lips were powerful magnets.

"I........I cannot remember I time where I......enjoyed.....wanted...to kiss someone....what is this hold you have over me?"

"(Giggle) I can't possibly tell you what your feeling, it's your body, your mind"

"And you dear Y/N....have bewitched both of them....your lips...they are softer than I had imagined"

"You've imagined my lips?"

"Does a man not imagine what paradise would feel like?"

"(Giggle) For an overlord, your very sweet, you know that?"

"Let's just keep that between you and me, hm? I wouldn't want any other overlords thinking that about me. Now my dear, is there anything else you wish to do? It is quite late, I did not know if you wished to retire to your room"

"I'm not, that tired. What about you?"

"Certainly not. As you know too well, my sleep schedule is all over the place"

"Ok...how about we just relax and maybe discuss the book I gave you?"

"Ah! An inspector calls! It would very much please me to discuss it with you! I myself have read it all the way through now, but I do have questions"

"Ask away (He puts his arm around your back, leading you inside) I'm guessing your going to ask me about what the inspector does in the end?"

"Oh absolutely! Oh, and....if...there are moments we may be able to...share another kiss....would that be alright with you?"

"Let me save you the trouble Alastor, you don't have to ask me. Just know that I want you to do that, whenever you like"

"Wonderful! Aha!"

Alastor closes the balcony doors behind him, happy that both you and him have started a wonderful new chapter in each of yours after lives. However, while it was all good for you two, unbeknownst to either of you, someone had been watching you from a building the whole time, someone who hated Alastor, and after your interaction with him, now had a grudge against you too. Vox. His face flickered with static, shouting and swearing to himself as he left the building he had been spying in. How dare his nemesis be happy? It was his job to tear Alastor apart, and instead, Alastor was happy in his stupid hotel. Vox had enough, storming to the V tower, still shouting and swearing in anger, bursting through Valentino's doors, seeing him smoking on his sofa.

"God fucking damn it!"

"What's up with you? Did your wifi cut out while you stroking your dick again?"

"Shut the fuck up Val!!

"Oooooh! Someone's being a pouty little bitch"

"Gguuhhh! I fucking hate him!"

"Who?"

"Who do you think, asshole? Fucking Alastor!"

"Ugh, him again. What's he done this time? Breathe?"

"No! Mother fuckers happy!"

"Huh? Vox, he's always happy. He smiles every second of the fucking day"

"Yeh! But he's happy in another way!"

"Ok, I'm missing a few details Vox"

"That.. asshole...has gone and got himself a little girlfriend"

"Alastor? Alastor the radio demon? Vox, are you sure you saw the right guy?"

"Oh! Just cuz you can't see anything further than your fucking hands, doesn't mean we're all as blind as you!"

"Oh chill out! I was just asking!"

"I know, I know. Sorry, alright? I just can't stand the fact that he has someone"

"Wait a second Vox.....you said girlfriend?"

"Yes"

"That means Alastor is her boyfriend?"

"Yes!"

"And he.....likes her.....wants her...needs her?"

"Are you fucking deaf too Val?! Yes! They were all lovey dovey, kissing and dancing in the hotel. Fucking bastard"

"But wait Vox, this may be a good thing!"

"Oh really? How the fuck can you see anything good about another person being on Alastor's side?"

"Think about it....(Stands up, twirling his cigarette) Have you ever seen Alastor be that close to anyone before?"

"Well, no"

"Has he been out with her in public? Protected her from anyone? Shown to the public that she is someone whome he likes?"

"Well yeh, when I saw him on the street, mother fucker didn't wanna fight me because she was there! Then! The bitch kicked me in the god damn balls!"

"Mmm...feisty....I like a girl who can fight back..."

"Get to the point Val!"

"Well...the fact that we haven't seen Alastor behave this way with anyone else...(starts circling Vox) Means this connection he has with her is strong...stronger than anyone else he's associated with.....he's let his guard down with her...."

"Which means he's vulnerable.....he has a weakness...."

"And we...can use that to our advantage..."

"Val, you fucking genius! That's it! The way to get to Alastor, is through her!"

"Now, how are we gunna do that?"

"Uhh, I'm thinking. Think think think.....Oh! One of your whores lives with both of them! Angel! We can use him!"

"Good idea, but, if I know that little whore, he won't want to do something to his friend. Unless I make him work every day for a month?"

"I've got an idea. Bring Angel in tomorrow, and I'll handle the rest"

"What are you going to do to Angel?"

"Let's just say, I'm very persuasive. And with the right...look...I'll get him doing anything I want. Tomorow, I'll take care of Angel. And you, I need you to prepare some of that strong stuff...you know....the shit that makes you light headed?"

"Ooooh....it would be my pleasure.....

Meanwhile, back at the hotel, you and Alastor had been spending at least 2 hours discussing the book you loved, as well as others you've recommended to him, whilst sat together on his bed. He loved speaking to you about this, noone else in the hotel found reading as interesting or fascinating as you.

"So? Who do you think was the killer?"

"I simply cannot think of a single person! They all have an interesting tie to the young girls death, it's hard to choose anyone, especially as it seems that they are all involved"

"But do you see what I mean now? That it's one of those books you can come back too? Enjoy again and again?"

"Oh absolutely! Infact! (Walks to his bookshelf, coming back with another book) I seem to have acquired another one of your favourites while I was out for a stroll the other day. (Sits back on the bed with you) Hear you go, I hope you like it"

"(Gasp!) The Hobbit! This IS my favourite! I can't believe you remembered!"

"But of course! I listen very carefully to our interactions my dear. And when I happened upon this in the shop window, I simply could not pass it buy"

"Thank you so much Alastor. (Stifling a yawn) I wanna read it right now"

"Now? But my dear sweet Y/N, your eyes are ever so heavy. And you've been trying to hide your yawns too"

"I guess I'm not good at hiding them am I?"

"I'm afraid not"

"But I'm really enjoying myself with you. I don't want to go to bed yet"

"Hm? How about we compromise?"

"With what?"

"Lay down with me, allow me to hold you, let you get nice and comfortable. And I shall read this book to you until you fall asleep"

"Aww Alastor, that's a lovely idea. But aren't I going to stop you from sleeping? I wouldn't want to be in your personal space"

"Not at all! Why, you know I do not sleep most nights, in fact, the night you found me on the hotel sofa, was the last night I had a decent sleep. But worry not, I will be more than happy to have you in my company...and my arms"

"Alastor, has anyone ever told you, your such a romantic?"

"Aha, no, I'm afraid not. But hearing those words fall from your soft inviting lips is better than music to my ears. (Leans in and gives you a sweet peck to the lips) Now then, if you'd like to lay down with me, we can get nice and comfortable"

Even when he was lead down, Alastor was as straight as a pencil, legs together and arms folded.

That is, until he had his hand out to you and brought you down to him. Snugling in close, reasting your head on his chest and putting one arm over him. His own arm looped around your back to hold you closer, his other hand holding the book up, turning the pages with his thumb.

"Oh...your so warm"

"Aha, I always am my dear. Do tell me, are you comfortable?"

"Very"

"Delightful. Let's begin"

Turning to page one with his thumb, he started to read, and you happily closed your eyes, listening to him.

"Ahem. Chapter 1. In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an ozzy smell, not yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat. It was a hobbit hole, and that means comfort"

It didn't take long for Alastor's calming voice, the slow jazz music in the background and the warmth radiating from him, to send you into a deep sleep. Infact, Alastor has barley made it past chapter 3 before he noticed you had fallen asleep. But he didnt mind. He chuckled, seeing you so relaxed. So he carried on reading to himself, not wanting to move or disturb you, just enjoying this bizarrely blissful moment. Bizarre, because who in hell can say they've had a wonderful time? Well, it would seem that now both you and him can indeed say that.

Link to part 3

[exhausted-archivist]

Lets Talk About Nugs

Okay so I'm on the nug train of thought here now that we have Dalish eating nugs in dao. So some fun facts about nugs and what we know about them.

They're found both subterranean and on the surface. Their codices describe how they originate from subterranean areas (the Deep Roads) but also inhabit the surface despite having skin so thin it often sunburns. This is reinforced in how we see them running around topside all over Inquisition in Haven, the Emerald Grove, and just everywhere. The common nug is so common on the surface, Kirkwall carried out the Battle of the Squealing Plains (aka nug war) because they were deemed a noxious vermin thought to carry the blight (they don't).

Dwarves (surface and Orzammar), Fereldans, Orlesians, and Dalish eat them. An Orlesian might, but one also runs the risk of eating a noblewomans pet by accident and it is insinuated that is part of why they aren't so common on the Orlesian table.

Nugs eat everything from insects (with roof beetles being a favorite), worms, mushrooms, anything they can find on the cavern floor or in your pantry, and even limestone and metals. They're described as a voracious omnivore and their diet really shows it.

They're cousins to the Greater Nuggalope and may be related to the tusket.

Their main natural predators include deepstalkers and giant spiders underground and just about every carnivore topside.

Outside of food their stomach, skin, and fat are used for a variety of craftable items.

They use their pointed snouts for digging, are nearly blind, and are hairless.

Despite being called "small", their dao depiction makes them the size of a medium dog and is echoed by the Inquisition models where nugs are roughly 21" / 54 cm at the shoulder. A medium-sized dog has the height of 16-22" / 41-56 cm at the shoulder.

They are prolific breeding animals despite the high predation rates and being described as poorly adapted for non-temperate environments.

As I work on my food project as well as the Thedas bestiary I was trying to decide the role that they fill and honestly, they seem to fill the same role one would expect a pig, vulture, or the like to fill. Cleaning up the various scraps left around the Deep Roads and being rather opportunistic in whether they'll deviate from their insect diet to plant material. We have no mention of them eating meat, so I wouldn't think they were opportunistic carnivores either.

And while this may seem obvious, I've been seeing a lot of similarities to naked-mole rats. Not counting the skin or the shared subterranean home. But from the fact that the game seems to insinuate that they are at least highly resistant to the blight; perhaps like High Dragons. Much like naked mole rats have unusual longevity and are resistant to many age related disease as well as cancer. Couple that with the fact that nugs seem to live in groups; we see this in the cave system in Crestwood, and the existence of the nug king and his court.

[theheraldsrest]

how do you think the companions would react to a mute or deaf inquisitor? like one who communicates through sign language?

“Companions react to Mute/Deaf Inquisitor”

I try to do my research for the most part when I do these posts. So if I do get something wrong, please let me know! I enjoy getting the chance to understand topics further and getting to hear from you guys! And thank you anon!

-Lord Lex

Cullen

-One of the many who struggle with communication and now he’s learning that you can communicate through your hands. He’s a little worried about you being on the battlefield but he’ll try not to mother you. He knows the others have your back and, hey, you’ve been fighting before you were even part of the Inquisition so that reassures him. He struggles to learn sign-language but instead, if the Inquisitor is deaf, will communicate through simply passing along some paper. Same with if deaf but he’ll mostly speak to you and rely on a written response.

Josephine

-Josey is an ambassador for the Inquisition, of course she’s going to know a few languages. If she doesn’t, she usually tries to learn them as soon as possible. Like Cullen, she’ll be worried about you when in the field, but outside of it she finds no problems. She’ll go with you wherever when in Haven/Skyhold, translating for people or for you. Anyone who tries to disresepct you behind your back will get a stern talking to.

Leliana

-She always did say the best spy was one who didn’t speak. Maybe not so surprisingly she knows several forms of sign language for different languages and will make sure on which ones to use for you. If a message needs to be said, she’ll say it for you. Though, sometimes, she’ll watch as people make fools of themselves either by talking rudely to you when your deaf or asking why you aren’t responding when mute. Proceeds to introduce you as the Inquisitor and that you’re deaf/mute. 

Vivienne

-Not so surprised. Is actually another one who stays by your side, either translating or shutting down anyone who so happens to make a comment about you. Tries to stay where you can see her, either her hands or mouth being visible for you. Sometimes when translating for you, she’ll add in her own comment but makes sure people know that it’s her opinion and not yours. “The Inquisitor bids you welcome. I, on the other hand, hope your stay is very short.”

Varric

-Varric finds it pretty interesting, having met a few people in his travels who couldn’t speak or hear. Wasn’t able to pick up on sign language but he won’t try to exclude you because he doesn’t know what you’re saying. He’ll try any methods of talking with you or getting to know what you’re saying, including through drawings. He’s not the best artist but you both find it such a goofy way of communicating. Makes many people question how ya’ll even know what either of you are saying, especially when you’re both nodding sagely over a drawing of a nug with a crown.

Cole

-He knows you’re speaking, but the words aren’t coming out. Right for you, but not right for others. Cole is very confused on why no one else can hear you until he realises they can’t hear the ghost of your words. Don’t rely too much on him to translate, we all know his speech patterns. Especially when he does translate for you, he’ll either say everything on your mind or too little of what you want to say. But it is pretty funny when he tries to do a voice for you. Most specificly when you’re trying to act intimidating and he just makes his voice rough and tough. He’s trying his best.

Solas

-He finds no problem with it. Might find it slightly difficult when trying to translate certain elven words, especially if the Inquisitor doesn’t know elven. but that won’t stop him. Solas will try to find a way to describe it or use appropriate wording to get his point across or to explain certain words. He’s very patient with you and will even ask you to teach him a few signs so that it’s easier for you. Even tries to keep an eye on your hands if you’re mute so that he can see when you wish to speak.

Cassandra

-The one who gets frustrated the most over it. She’s trying, she really is. She does know some sign language, but only some. She’ll get words wrong or mistranslate sometimes. But even worse when she forgets because she’ll go on long tangents or going over plans and will look at you for input and it just hits her. Has to get you paper and a quill to write out responses or even she’ll write out her whole thing. Cass isn’t frustrated with you, she’s frustrated with trying to remember these things as well as sign language.

The Iron Bull

-He knows a few words and phrases but he also teaches you a few of his own. He works around it, makes sure you know it’s not a hinderance. Pretty impressed with how you power through, becoming a leader and, because of you, most of Skyhold actually knows a bit of sign-language. Unlike the others, though, if someone asks what you’re saying, he’s going to tell them either to guess or that it’s time for them to learn a new language. Bull’s only messing with people but if you ask him to stop he will. (Fun fact: Krem taught him sign language. Krem was a little excited to speak with you when he saw you using it.) Speaking of Krem, you know how he sits to Bull’s blind side? Bull will do the same for you except being your ears if deaf or being your voice if mute.

Dorian

-Genuinely one of the most curious of your group. Dorian’ll sit down with you for hours just to learn, eventually being able to have conversations with you in more easier terms. He’ll still talk (a lot) but now it’s accompanied by him moving his hands, either to help you or to just practice. He also enjoys how private it can be, not having to worry about listening ears or unwanted company. He tries to help as much as you’ll let him, either deaf or mute and will interpret when needed. Also uses it to shit talk but only around you or those in your group. Josephine cuaght him once and gave him a talking because one of the nobles actually knew sign language.

Sera

-It’s not her type of sign language. Which is either signs like moving forward or a certain finger. More frustrated than Cassandra sometimes but also has fun with it. Might be irritating with certain people as she tries to guess what you’re saying, going through charades to get your point across or even hers. She’s even tried to create her own and teach it to you. Most of the time it’s just words that already exist but smashed together like shitbiscuit. She’ll try testing things with you, like if your senses are heightened due to one of them being gone. Specificlly by throwing apples at you. Might want to work on your reflexes.

Blackwall

-He’s trying, I promise. He’s able to guess but it does little when you’re trying to get whole phrases or sentences out. It’ll take Blackwall a second to remember what that certain hand movement means but he’ll get there. Same as Bull where he’ll act as your ears but not your voice. Does not want to be responsible for that or equivalate his voice as yours. His main answer is “You give the orders, I follow them.” Sometimes will just walk up to you saying he’s got this and then try to sign to you and ask if he did it correctly. It’s a 50/50 chance he did. 

[bl00dst41ned]

*.·:·.✦ catering day ✦.·:·.*

pairing: jude bellingham x female oc (Ryan)

summary: in which it’s time for Nugget to fully move in in the house and her owners go a bit over the top

author's note: part one here, read it for content. requested by @hummusxx, delivered by me. also some things might not make sense, so like J.Lennon said, imagine. enjoy besties !

warnings/content: a very obsessed Jude, fluff, fluff and more fluff (since I love cute relationships)

word count: 839

The sun was rising, waking Madrid up. On a normal day, Jude and Ryan would have woken up way later and lazed around the house, crushing their screen time. But today was different. Jude had woken up at the crack of dawn, getting ready for the excited day he and his girlfriend were about to have.

“Ray” He softly sang in her ear, his breath tickled her neck making her scrunch her face in her sleep. “Ryan”

“You sound like a serial killer” Ryan mushed his face away, rubbing her eyes open. She wrapped her arms around him hugging him tightly as he left multiple kisses on her neck.

They stayed in this position for a few minutes, Jude almost falling asleep from his girlfriend sweet touch. She ended up letting him go and getting up from the bed.

“Jude, it’s 6 in the morning, why would you wake me up?” She was already on her way back to bed before he quickly grabbed her arm.

“We have to take Nugget to the vet at 9”

Jude had taken it upon himself to book an appointment at the veterinarian, finally putting his few spanish lessons to use. Which surprised Ryan, since he would not try to speak for his life.

The two had gotten ready, now in the car on their way to the vet. While Ryan kept her eyes on the road, Jude kept his on Nugget, his index finger rubbing his growing fur. Ryan took few glances at them and appreciating him bonding with his new pet.

Nugget had been at their house for two days now. Jude stayed glued to it most of the time not even letting Ryan take care of him unless he had practice. They tried to feed it the best they could even buying a syringe so that it was easier but they wanted to give their pet the best care.

Once they arrived at the vet, they waited a few before entering the office. The doctor examined Nugget, trying to determine its age, give appointments for his vaccins and scan it for a microchip. They found out that Nugget was actually a female, was only one week old and probably stayed outside for two to three days. He gave them a brand for cat milk to improve her growth before letting them go. Ryan and Jude left the veterinarian, Nugget stuffed in her box.

………………………..

Jude drove the cart through the pet shop, Ryan’s arm wrapped around his bicep as the couple walked through the aisle. Jude basically wanted to put everything in the cart, Ryan trying to be responsible even though she too wanted to buy the whole place.

She scrolled through her Pinterest looking for ideas as Jude complimented everything.

“Can we create her a little room in our mhouse?” He asked with a wide smile after seeing a picture on her phone.

She gave in, finding it very cute too. They looked through the shop for her furniture. They picked up a green pastel sofa, covers, cushions, everything in mini size. Jude picked up way too many stuffed animals for Nugget showing it to the little animal even though her eyes are still closed.

“Jude, Nugs can not see” Ryan broke his happy bubble making him snap his head towards her, mugging her.

“This is between me and Nugget, mind yours”

He went back into a conversation with his now bestfriend as Ryan looked through essential stuff.

“Look at this collar” She pointed to a baby blue one with clouds.

It only took a second for them to decide to take it with them.

………………………..

They ended up checking out, leaving with a full cart. At home, they immediately choose a bright and calm space in their living room to install her mini room. And they took it very seriously. Ryan drew a sketch of the space, calculating the space with her actual and future size+ while Jude did all the furnishing. Once they were done, they put the final touch, Nugget’s shoe box. Since she seemed to enjoy it, Jude and Ryan agreed to give their shirt for it to become her cover.

“Seems right to me”

They admired their work before looking around at their house.

“We should think about decorating our place too” Jude spoke, pointing at their lack of furniture.

They recently moved in, but did not take the time to buy furniture. Boxes were all around the rooms since they didn’t even had any cabinet to put their stuff into.

“Yeah” Ryan dragged, not motivated at all “Maybe another day”

As they did since they’re together, one’s laziness caused the other’s. The two decided to spend the night watching their signature movie, Paddington, Nugget layed on Ryan’s lap, after an eventful game of rock, paper scissors.

They treated Nugget like their child, spoiling her with everything to give her the warmest home. Nugget’s life had not started easily, making them want to cater her. With her addition, they have now become a family.

like and repost (hope you enjoyed it)

masterlist for more

[crossdressingdeath]

Lucanis: No, no. I had to kill a man once who did blood magic on nugs. A hundred little pigs with hands came after me. All together in one big, writing ball. Have you ever tried to stab a ball of angry nugs? That was a bad job. [...] Davrin: Rook story first, then Lucanis owes me one about this contract on a bronto. Lucanis: Mierda, that bronto...

Why do so many of Lucanis's jobs involve animals? Who is doing blood magic on nugs? Why would anyone take out a Crow contract on a bronto? I have so many questions. Lucanis and Davrin should get drunk and talk shop more often, I would love to hear more about this stuff.