#you CANNOT fuck me staff i am UNFUCKABLE

[milfdarthrevan]

IT'S DONE

dashboard is unfucked

[ean-sovukau]

Fr like just

FUCK OFF

I DON'T WANT FUCK

I DON'T NEED FUCK

I DON'T GIVE A FUCK

I AM UNFUCKABLE

YOU CANNOT FUCK ME

@staff

Hey @staff? :) H E L P ((Shoutout to my Patrons for supporting this animated sh*tpost!))

[galadrieljones]

Solas and Sene, First Kiss. Late afternoon sun, freshly cut flowers or herbs

It is very late, but ‘tis complete, @thevikingwoman. Thank you. you, @redinkofshame for motivating me to write tonight. ^^

For @dadrunkwriting.

The Party

It was hard staying awake. The rotunda had a purple light, and it all felt like dreaming. About a week before, Solas had kissed her wrist when they were in the Hinterlands. One of the mages in Witchwood had broken his staff, and Solas got so unhinged by this, he put the man in the dirt with his bare hands. It had been reckless. It had not been pretty.

He didn’t like this sort of thing—finishing men like this. Sene could tell. All the world had become their friendship in those days. Like sinking into the cushions. She would go to his rotunda, and she would watch him paint. They would talk about whatever. He was full of wonder, but he was also stoic. He told stories. Endless stories from the Fade. He would charm her, both of them like animals. He did card tricks, and once, he fashioned a flower from behind her ear. It was purple, a purple daisy. She had never seen one like that before. He smelled very good, and he was very strong. Tall, balanced. He treated her like an equal. She thought about that day when he kissed her on the wrist and how it had made her hungry. She wanted to swallow the whole world, and him in it. She had never felt this way before, ever.

That night, she fell asleep, on their couch in the rotunda. She’d put her head on his shoulder as he was talking. He was holding her hand. The anchor. That had been their excuse for a while. But not really anymore. Now, it was just hands. His hands were rough, like canvas stretched and scraped.

When she opened her eyes, she was somewhere else. She was in Haven. The sky was cold and like a long, gray bar. Everything was quiet, but there was a party somewhere in the distance. Like the tavern was full. She couldn’t tell. She was standing with her boots in the snow, crunching, and she looked around.

“Solas?” she said.

“I’m right here,” he said. There he was, right there. The tallest man she’d ever loved. The only man. She smiled at him, and he took her hand. “Come with me, vhenan.”

They walked for a little while, old familiar snow banks and all the little houses and tents intact. This was Haven, but it was before. Nothing had gone to shit yet. The world wasn’t ending. The Breach was just a sucking pit in the sky, and she wanted to go backward and forward, all at once. She missed the old days, when she did not have to be so in charge. Now, it was like a mean tooth, rotting in the back of her gums. She couldn’t shake it. Always there, aching. But then, she remembered. He was holding her hand. Her right hand. This was not an anchor thing. It was a them thing. He walked with his head high and his chin up, looking straight out ahead like nothing was in their way. They were headed for the apothecary. It started to snow.

He stopped them, beside an old fire pit. It looked like it hadn’t burned in weeks. The whole place felt unsettled, but still—the music. It was somewhere. She looked back, but she couldn’t see a party. By now, she had figured that they were in the Fade, but she didn’t know for sure. She was waiting for him, for his confirmation.

“Sene,” he said.

“Yes,” she said.

“Do you know where we are?”

“Yes.”

“The Fade is a malleable place,” he said, looking around. Like he was home. “It is filled with reflections and memories. You don’t have to be afraid. We can leave at any time.”

“I’m not afraid,” she said.

He smiled. “Good.”

They sat down, leaning with their backs against the apothecary’s old house. It all smelled like thyme for some reason, and roses. From where they were sitting, they could see the Breach and all of its unfucked glory. Hovering up there. A mean entity. Solas was still holding her hand.

“Do you hear a party somewhere?” said Sene, looking around.

“Sort of,” he said. “I may just be hearing what you’re hearing.”

“So like,” said Sene, studying their hands together, their fingers interlaced, “are our bodies still just asleep on the couch? Are we just asleep?”

“That is the general idea, yes,” said Solas. “This is a dream, for all intents and purposes. A memory.”

“Why Haven?” she said.

“Because it is real,” he said. “It will always be important to you.”

“And you?” she said.

He sighed. Like a great big man of high importance. They were both sitting with their knees up. Two elves, too tall. He let go of her hand then and, instead, held onto her knee. It was fast, casual, right. His hands were big. She tucked her hands into her lap and put her head on his shoulder.

“When I think of Haven,” he said, “I think of rooftops.”

“Me, too,” she said.

“It is sad that we cannot go back,” he said, and he got lost. He was staring at the Breach, like a great eye.

“Solas,” she said.

“Yes, vhenan.”

Vhenan.

“Why did you bring me here?” she said.

“Because you fell asleep,” he said.

“So?”

“I wasn’t ready,” he said. “For the night to be over. Not yet.”

“You missed me?” she said. She set her chin on his shoulder.

He put his head back, against the high wooden wall. He peaked at her out of one eye, and he relented. “Yes.”

“I think of Haven as the beginning,” she said.

“The beginning of what?” he said.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Us? The Inquisition? My entire life?”

He smirked. “You’re funny.”

“I am not,” she said.

“I didn’t mean for this,” he said.

“Mean for what?” she said.

“You,” he said. “Missing you. I’m sorry, Sene.”

“Sorry for what?”

He turned his head then, to look at her, like he couldn’t remember what he was going to say next. The snow, it was just an atmosphere, she noticed. It was neither cold nor wet. All the sounds from before, from the mystery party nearby, they had gone. It was only them now, and the wind.

She shifted toward him, dropped her knees so that she could see him better. His hand remained. Something held it there. “I thought I knew,” he said.

“Solas,” she said.

“What.”

“Can I kiss you?”

He seemed wholly surprised, and yet, relieved. Like the end of something. His eyes searched hers, but there was only earnestness, friendship, love.

“Yes,” he said.

She set her palm on his cheek, touched his ear. His hand still on her knee, she leaned forward, and she closed her eyes, and she touched her lips to his. Cold in the Fade air, then warm. Soft. They kissed. It was everything.

When they parted, they just looked at each other, and they smiled. It was like they knew.

There was a whole lot of shit coming for them. Ten thousand trials and the end of the world. But in that moment, for just a second—they knew. It was snowing in the Fade, and they were already in love. It was just a matter of time now, before one of them said it. Sealing it into existence. And then, one day, after all the running and the stupid and the highs and the lows, they’d be safe again. In the purple light of dusk, only this time wide awake, all of their fucked-up troubles behind them, and there would be friends and everybody that they knew and loved–just another party, but this one special, and he would fashion a flower from behind her ear. I do, they would say. I do.