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lesetoilesfous · 1 year

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Happy Friday! :D For Nate/Anders, perhaps “The self is not so weightless, nor whole and unbroken.” from the lyrics prompts?

Thank you! Ah gosh I had fun with this.

(If you’d like me to write you a da2 fic, send me a prompt from here!)

@dadrunkwriting

Pairing: Anders/Nathaniel Howe

Characters: Anders, Nathaniel Howe

Tags: reference to past child abuse, Rendon Howe is a horrifying bastard, etc

Rating: Mature

“Naaaaaaaate. Nathaniel. Ser Howe. If this is some kind of sexy hide and seek thing I should warn you that I’m going to need a minute after our little lunchtime rendezvous.” Anders pauses, scratching his chin. “Then again, we could always experiment with the old warden stami- oh. Shit.”

Nathaniel is sitting in what Anders thinks might have been his father’s bedroom. It’s long since been ransacked, but there’s a grandiose air to the palatial size of the place that gives that impression. That, and the scent of blood. Anders wrinkles his nose as he tentatively crosses the threshold: eyes catching on the old stains littered around the room like paint flecks.

Nathaniel is halfway to scrubbing at his red face, scowling as he gets hurriedly to his feet. Anders lifts his hands, palms forward in surrender. “Woah, woah, woah, slow down bronco.”

“I have no wish to speak with you.” Nathaniel snaps, trying to push past him. Anders catches him easily - he’s the taller of the two - and offers a grin when Nathaniel glares.

“I get that a lot. So, uh, what’s going on?”

Nathaniel’s scowl deepens, his dark brown eyes almost black in the shadows of the room. “I don’t want to discuss it with you.”

He tries, again, to push past Anders. Again, Anders stops him. This close, Nate smells like leather and wood-polish, the bow he wears perpetually on his back gleaming like a gemstone. Anders tilts his head to the side, enjoying the soft swing of his hair. “Mm. And we both know you’re strong enough to lay me out if you really wanted to. So how about we skip the foreplay and you tell me why you’re crying in Daddy’s bedroom?”

Briefly, Nathaniel’s annoyance is broken by confusion. “How did you -?”

Bingo. Anders gestures at the vast scale of the bedroom, the carvings on the walls, the stains - all with a lazy gesture of his fingers. “I mean, I’m not actually a complete idiot, you know.”

Nathaniel snorts, and Anders rewards him for it with a bright grin, enjoying it when Nathaniel’s cheeks graze pink, his thin lips quirking into another smaller, softer smile. Anders thinks, sometimes, that he should tell Nathaniel how Circles work. But he also thinks that might mean the man stops labouring under the impression that he’s unaware of his obvious attraction to him, and that’d be tragic. Besides, for now, there are more pressing matters to deal with.

Satisfied that he’s no longer going to try and escape, Anders drops to sit cross-legged on the stone floor, careful to lean his weight on his good leg. He pats the flagstones beside him, trying to ignore the numbing cold of the stone under his bare thighs.

After a moment, Nathaniel sighs, a gusty, performative thing that Anders thinks he could probably do competitively, and sits - in a far more graceful, less lopsided fashion than Anders had. He doesn’t look at him when he speaks. “It’s…nothing.”

Anders nods, seriously, leaning forward to prop his chin on his fist. "For sure, definitely. You’re the kind of guy who often disappears only to show up in a dead relative’s bedroom crying. That’s just Nathaniel. Everyone says so.”

Nathaniel rolls his eyes, but his lips quirk in another smile, so Anders counts that as a win. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Make me.” At this point, it’s more habit than anything, but Nathaniel’s eyes darken anyway, and Anders files that away to think about in more detail later. He relishes the tension for a moment, before reluctantly pushing them back on track. “Are you… missing him?”

Again, Nathaniel seems genuinely confused. “What? No!”

Anders spreads his arms in a surrendering shrug. “Sorry! Sorry, as I understand it people are normally fucking, sad when their Dad gets murdered in the middle of a coup. Shit, I don’t know, my old man was a bit of a dickhead.”

That, unfortunately, seems to be the bit that catches Nathaniel’s attention. “Really?”

Anders bites the inside of his cheek and breaks eye contact, suddenly all too aware of how eerily silent this bedroom is. “Yeah, you know. Standard.” As if on cue, his mind fills with vague memories. “Rough. Violent. Sold me out to the templars.” Anders forces himself to lift one shoulder in a shrug, drawing a smile across his face like steel wire. “Parents, am I right?”

Nathaniel doesn’t react to his grin this time, instead looking down at his calloused hands. Silence swells between them, and Anders doesn’t quite have the presence of mind to break it. Eventually, Nathaniel does.

“I thought it was normal.” Nathaniel speaks so quietly that Anders finds himself leaning in, though he isn’t entirely sure he wants to. Nathaniel clears his throat, but keeps his eyes fixed on his hands. “He said it was normal. He said I was lucky. If I was whipped, or didn’t eat, or -” Nathaniel stops, mouth snapping shut with a click of his teeth. Anders tries very hard not to feel like the room in which they’re sitting gets colder.

“Or?”

That’s all the encouragement Nathaniel needs. “There was this girl. When I was a boy. An elf. One of the servants. Nassa.” A flicker of a smile passes across his face, like the sun breaking through a clouded sky. Then it passes. “She was my age. And I…she was funny. Clever. Kind. I liked her. I knew I wasn’t supposed to talk to the elves but I didn’t understand why.” Nathaniel’s jaw tightens, and he lifts his head, turning to look away from Anders into the corner of the room. “Father found out. So he brought me in here, and he made me watch, as he cut off each of her fingers.”

“Blood and ashes.” Anders swears, vehemently. The corner of Nathaniel’s mouth twitches in a bitter smile.

“I never saw her again. I don’t know if she died of her injuries, or…or worse.” Nathaniel chews the inside of his cheek. “I wasn’t allowed to have friends. I wasn’t allowed to rest, or play. It feels stupid, even now, to complain of living in such luxury but -”

“No. Don’t you dare. Not with me. Come on, you know me better than that.” Anders smiles, as encouragingly as he can, despite the horrible feeling in his chest that he will not want to hear what Nathaniel says next.

Nathaniel’s voice thickens, his dark eyes glittering in the shadows. “I was just so scared. All the time. And I thought - I thought it was normal? I thought that was just how everyone lived. But Mahariel…” Nathaniel trails off. The silence stretches between them, heavy with ghosts. Anders breathes, and tries not to think about anything at all. “I feel like I don’t know who I am anymore.” The admission is quiet, and given on a voice that breaks as he says it. After a moment he glances up at Anders, gaze searching.

Anders offers his best smile, and leans forward, covering Nathaniel’s shorter, stronger fingers with his own. “Well, that’s easy, you’re Nathaniel Howe.” Nate starts to frown, opening his mouth, and Anders raises his voice as he continues. “And you’re fucked up. Maybe more than you realised. But take it from a guy who’s made being broken his whole profession: it doesn’t actually change who you are.” Anders hesitates, expecting to be cut off. But Nathaniel is looking at him, and listening to him, and he isn’t entirely sure what to do with that. He swallows. “Like...yeah, they can cut you. And bully you and scare you and whatever else. But at the end of the day there’s alway this bit that’s just, essentially you. That was there before they started hurting you and that sticks around after. So your Dad was a monster, and that sucks, and if I had the right spells I’d bring him back just to burn him again myself.”

Nathaniel snorts, and Anders thinks that’s a victory. He’s turned their hands over, and laced their fingers together. Anders squeezes his hand. “But when push comes to shove, when the axe meets the ogre…you’re not a scared little boy any more. You’re all honourable and shit.” This time Nathaniel laughs out loud, and Anders grins, and his cheeks ache with it. “You’ve got integrity coming out your ears. You’re brave, and loyal, and dutiful. Picture of a storybook knight, Ser Aveline eat your heart out. And you are so much more than what he made of you.”

Nathaniel’s breath catches, and when he goes to pull his hand out of Anders’, Anders holds him tight. For a second, Nathaniel just looks at him, dark eyes almost unreadable. And then he’s surging forward, bow-calloused hand scratching at Anders’ cheek as he holds his face, tightly, and kisses him. Tears tickle Anders’ nose and cheeks, but he does Nathaniel the favour of not mentioning them, melting under the hunger of his kiss the way he always does and resolutely denying the butterflies in his stomach. After a moment that is both longer than it feels and far, far too short, Nathaniel pulls back, still holding Anders’ cheek.

“Anders, I -” Nathaniel catches himself, and breaks eye contact, clearing his throat. “Thank you.”

Anders shrugs, and ignores his sudden nerves, offering a broad, bright smile. “Don’t mention it.”

Nathaniel snorts, and slopes easily to his feet, holding out a hand to him. Anders takes it, and lets himself be hauled up. Nathaniel looks up at him, and his hand slips out of Anders’ fingers. “I won’t.”

#dadwc #nathaniel howe #anders da2 #nanders #highwayphantoms

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commander-krios · 15 days

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🎧 !!

#highwayphantoms #music #thank you for the ask!

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syrupwit · 2 years

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HAPPY FRIDAY :D how about "C17. Investigating these ancient ruins was probably a really bad idea" for Sigrun/Velanna?

Happy Friday, and thank you!! Under the cut, please find exactly 100 words of Sigrun/Velanna, or Sigrun & Velanna, for @dadrunkwriting :-)

Taking the left-fork cavern in the Deep Roads had been a bad idea.

“Not to minimize the situation,” said Sigrun, “but I’ve absolutely been in more haunted thaigs.”

“How reassuring!” Velanna intercepted a ghostly ax swing with a vine. “So our deaths won’t even merit a footnote in the annals.”

Sigrun leapt to finish the ax-wielder, then returned. “Hey, they might acknowledge Wardens who die in the most average way possible? We could still make history.”

“Not how I’d prefer to.”

Sigrun shrugged, preparing her daggers as a wave of shades rushed towards them. “Any memory is better than none.”

#highwayphantoms #dadwc #dadwc fill

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dreadfutures · 2 months

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Zero Context WIP Tag Game

If you’re tagged, make a new post and share 1-2 (a few) sentences from your most recent unposted WIP(s) with zero context – Let your followers guess!

Tagged by @anneapocalypse - I was just thinking about how I needed to start doing these again.

Ahead, the trees were sculpted toward one another into an embracing archway, as thick and protective as stone. [...] The archway lay within the woods, was made of the woods—but somehow seemed very other.

#wip game #tag meme

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dadrunkwriting · 3 months

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DWC Housekeeping - Team NA/AUS/Asia

Hi all!

It's time for some DWC housekeeping - the headcount list for Team NA/AUS/Asia is about to exceed Tumblr's limit for user mentions, so we're updating the active/inactive members list. We want to make sure that everyone on the regular headcount is still interested and make life a little easier for the admins.

If you are interested in staying on the headcount list, please reply to or reblog this post with a message by Thursday, 2/22, at 11:59pm PST. If your blog name has changed, please let us know that as well!

If you want to be inactive, you do not have to do anything. If you do not reply to/reblog this post, we will assume you want to be taken off the headcount.

Reminders:

You are not required to write or participate any set number of times, so if you think you'll want to participate in the coming months, feel free to stay on the active list.

Inactive writers can become active again at any time! Just message an admin and we'll add you back to the regular headcount.

Inactive writers can always opt in for the occasional Friday! You will not be tagged in the headcount, but if you reply to the post before 4pm Pacific Time on Friday, we'll include you on the kickoff.

Regardless of whether you're active or inactive, DADWC members are always welcome to post and tag us on Friday nights. If an old prompt inspires you, write, post, and tag! (Note: please do NOT do this if you are not a DADWC member. If you'd like to sign up, message an admin!)

Our Discord is open for both active and inactive writers. Message an admin for an invite if you'd like to join!

We will reblog/tag people on this list throughout the week to make sure everyone sees it. Changes will go into effect this Friday, February 23rd.

Thanks all!

@about2dance

@anatidae-dragonage

@ar-lath-ma-cully

@biowares-little-meow-meow

@blarrghe

@bluewren

@breninarthur

@broodwolf221

@contreparry

@demawrites

@dreadfutures

@exalted-dawn-drabbles

@fade-touched-shenanigans

@fatale-distraction

@favorofthewater

@for-the-ninth

@galadrieljones

@ghoulsbeard

@glowing-blue-feathermage

@highwayphantoms

@hunnybadgerv

@inquisimer

@kiastirling-fanfic

@melisusthewee

@nebulas-dragon-age

@nilesdaughter

@nirikeehan

@ocean-in-my-rebel-soul

@oxygenforthewicked

@plisuu

@ponticle

@potatowitch

@queenaeducan-writes

@replicatortrash

@rosella-writes

@rowanisawriter

@samseabxrn

@sharpe-teeth

@sulky-valkyrie

@syrupwit

@theluckywizard

@thiefbird

@warpedlegacywrites

@wildercrow

@zenstrike

#dwc housekeeping #team na/aus/asia

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barbex · 2 months

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Writer Game

Look what I found in my drafts!

@celemee tagged me for this, thank you! It looks short and fun, so I'm inflicting it on everybody. Tagging: @sulky-valkyrie, @effelants, @tobythewise, @andrastesknickerweasel, @mordinette, @zet-sway, @roguelioness, @potatowitch, @for-the-ninth, @anneapocalypse, @rakshadow, @contreparry, @highwayphantoms, and everybody else who wants to!

Do you write in order? Yes. I'm a discovery writer. I write the story as it appears in the headlines of my very slow car.

Do you start with something in particular? I wish I had a system. Really, it would help so much! I often start with dialogue, but then I also like starting mid blowjob scene.

How fully formed does your writing come out on the first try? Clean draft. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Okay, listen. I write, I go back, I rewrite, I fiddle here and there, I rethink, I change everything, I write again, I rewrite, I fiddle... I'm doing everything they tell you not to do. What comes out after all that is a fairly clean chapter I'll throw into the world without a second look.

How many drafts do you go through? One. I mean, it's an unholy creation of my chaotic thought process and changes form like a shapeshifter while it grows, but in the end, at least for fanfic, it's one draft and out to AO3 it goes.

I'm terrified of having to change this process for the novel I'm writing.

Tell me about your process? Gods, I wish I had one. I think it has become clear by now that I'm just diving into the story and keep throwing it all on the page. If it looks right, it stays.

This process requires for me:

Quiet time

Tea

A little bit of life, like someone else also working nearby

Wrist protector

A good and/or pretty keyboard

I'm not even kidding, look at this pretty thing:

Thanks for reading!

#tag game #writer tag game

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exalted-dawn · 10 months

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A couple of DA Absolution comms for @seascrapes and @highwayphantoms 🥰 had a lovely time drawing all these wonderful characters

#dragon age inquisition #dragon age oc #dragon age absolution #dragon age ocs #commissions

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dismalzelenka · 2 months

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FANFICTION TIERS TAG GAME

tagged by @ass-deep-in-demons!

Okay this was kinda hard because 1. tropes I'd write vs tropes I'd read are different categories, and 2. a lot of these fall under the category of "if the writer knocks it out of the park, incredible, otherwise it's a no" BUT I tried to rank them as follows:

S - would search for by tag on AO3 regardless of fandom

A - would search for by tag for specific pairings

B - like them enough to click on a fic containing the tag if I'm searching by pairing or fandom

C - either ambivalent or the writer really has to nail it for it to work. I'll give it a chance if I'm feeling adventurous.

D - i do not like these tropes very much at all

Also this list could shift based on my mood so take em with a grain of salt I guess LOL

tagging @ladymdc, @selfproclaimedunicorn, @sulky-valkyrie, @highwayphantoms, @glowing-blue-feathermage, @camillekaze

or if you see it and just wanna do it

#tag game #fanfic trope ranking #diz should be getting ready for work and yet here we are #:D

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fanfictionamerica · 3 days

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Here is my gift for the Handers Gift Exchange 2024 @handers-time! I'm happy to present this piece to @highwayphantoms! I had so much fun writing it; I was practically giddy😍. I hope you enjoy!

Summary:

Hawke may be broken, but that doesn't mean she cannot be remade with the gentle hands of a healer.

Word count: 4k

Rating: Teen

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Pairing: Anders/Hawke, Anders/Female Hawke

Characters: Anders, Purple-Red Female Hawke, Marshal Stacker Pentecost, Varric Tethras

Additional tags: Past Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Headaches & Migraines, Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Drift Compatibility (Pacific Rim), Kaiju (Pacific Rim), Jaegers (Pacific Rim), Explicit Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Minor Violence, Friends to Lovers, Making Out, Mutual Pining, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Handers Gift Exchange (Dragon Age)

#dragon age #dragon age 2 #anders #anders x hawke #handers #female hawke #dragon age fanfiction #dragon age 2 fanfiction #pacific rim au #friends to lovers #hurt/comfort #mutual pining #slight angst #tw grief #dealing with grief #mentioned character death #handers gift exchange #handers gift exchange 2024 #handers exchange 2024

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broodygaming · 3 months

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@highwayphantoms

BOOP! 🫶🐐

#you said boop and I was like WAIT I have exact footage of that haha #farming #goats #my life is SOOO hard haha just buried in baby goats I gotta pet until they’re friendly

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sulky-valkyrie · 7 months

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WIP Game

tagged by: @squadron-of-damned-writes (frantic waving and sending of hearts and kisses!)

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP list, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it. And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Wellllllllllllllllllll so uh, this is an incomplete list and comes into two halves. It's incomplete because is it really a WIP when it's just a prompt copy pasted into a doc with nothing actually added to it? Also, when does something stop becoming a WIP? When it's done? When you start posting chapters on ao3?

These are, to my shame, all for dragon age:

"Something unexpected"

"break a curse"

"whose blood pt 2"

"twins happiest"

"saving loghain"

"in hushed whispers" (suuuuuuuuuuper original title)

"griffon and Peacock"

"Failed ritual pt 4"

"Fly little bird"

"Madman 5+1"

"Fennanders Bittersweet Angst" (can you guess the pairing)

"Call Girl Anders"

"drinks"

"Post Boom Fennanders" (can you guess the pairing?)

"Janders"

"Not Jealous"

"Spunk Mage and the Fainting Goat"

"Twins Arishok"

"Roommates Sequel"

"nathanders"

These are all original fiction:

"William Everyman's Improbable Romance"

"the other necromantic therapist"

"Shit, I'm the NPC"

"Endeavors"

"Sneaky elves"

I'm just gonna cheat and use the tag list from Secret Sanders and add a few additional beloved mutuals

@dismalzelenka @dalish-rogue @pierogipie @anderstrevelyan @favorofthewater @anatidae-dragonage @midnightprelude @highwayphantoms @thedastrash @sunnygalaxyfox @transandersrights @jellydishes @syrupwit @captaincadash @barbex @potatowitch @ocean-in-my-rebel-soul @glowing-blue-feathermage; @plisuu @blarrghe @melisusthewee @cleverblackcat @rosella-writes

#fanfic writing #wip stuff #tag games

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thedastrash · 1 year

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WIP Wednesday!

Now that my exchange pieces are waiting for Arlathan and Templartations reveals... time to pull out some huge WIPs I've been ignoring and see if I can poke at them until some plot falls out. Here's a chunk of Varric that I like, but I'm not sure where it lives yet. Tags below the cut as usual.

Wind howled over the Frostbacks, piling snow drifts against the windward side of every building in Haven. The tent Varric had been given was surprisingly large which meant it was also drafty. He was able to set up a small table and a stool within the canvas walls, but the wax wasn’t enough to keep out the wind. Snowflakes blew in under the walls, wind threatened to whip his papers out from beneath his quill, and his fingers grew numb from the chill.

Perhaps that was enough writing for the evening. Placing his work away carefully, where snow couldn’t dampen its corners, he pulled on his leather jacket. Not the best for the weather, but he didn’t get a chance to pack up when he was forcibly hauled out of Kirkwall on a death march to this frigid rock. At least it was his favorite jacket. And it had nice runes. Thank you Sandal.

“Fucking mountains. Nothing but ice and death,” he grumbled to himself as he pulled his gloves on. He braced himself, but the wind when he opened the tent still made him clench his jaw. All his warmth seemed to evaporate from beneath the collar of his jacket and his ears immediately felt raw and miserable. He should find a scarf, or maybe a hat, from the supplies, but his dignity wouldn’t let him. He’d rather be fashionable than warm.

Cassandra stood like a statue in the training yard, watching Cullen work with the recruits. This was her fault really. She’d kidnapped Varric from Kirkwall and interrogated him for days. He made sure she knew it too.

“Nice weather we’re having,” Varric quipped from behind her.

Cassandra didn’t even flinch, though she couldn’t have heard him approach. He was far too stealthy to be caught out like that, even in the snow. She turned her head and merely grunted her agreement with a slight furrow to her brow. Always suspicious, the Seeker.

“Couldn’t the Inquisition hole up on a beach somewhere? I hear Rivain is lovely this time of year,” Varric tried again.

Cassandra wasn’t having any of his good humor today. “You are free to go.”

“I will hold those words dear,” Varric laughed. “How I’ve longed to hear them from your lips.”

A small noise of disgust came from Cassandra’s throat before she stalked off to speak to Cullen. Varric wondered if she was staying warm through sheer stubbornness. Her armor seemed better suited to a lower elevation, less ice, more bodies on the ground. Maybe her wrath kept her warm.

Varric made his way into the warmth of the chantry. Appropriate to have taken over a chantry for the dubious organization of the Inquisition. The fires were banked low, but the sheer number of people inside helped warm it up considerably. The air was moist with evaporating puddles and the breath of huddled people in conversation. The camp had been fairly jolly after the last success on the Storm Coast. The Chargers had cheered things up with their irreverent celebrations and their get shit done kind of attitude. The Iron Bull and company were Varric’s kind of people - loud and drunk and bloody. It made him miss Kirkwall if he didn’t keep busy.

#wip wednesday #varric tethras #dai #da2 #dragon age

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syrupwit · 2 years

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welcome to DADWC! How about "Okay So He Went A Little Overboard" for Alistair?

Thank you (two weeks later), and thank you for the very fitting prompt!

Under the cut, please find ~1400 words of disgustingly sweet Alistair & f!Brosca gen, with background f!Brosca/Leliana, for @dadrunkwriting.

“Is it that bad?” said Alistair. At his side, the dog whined softly.

Wynne’s silence spoke volumes.

He tried, “I mean, do you think Natia’s going to be… angry?”

A moment of hesitation preceded Wynne’s response. “I couldn’t presume to speak for her.”

Alistair turned to Leliana, trying his best to look pleading and well-intentioned but not pathetic, and probably inadvertently mirroring the dog’s expression. Leliana’s face retained the same courtly mask that had come over it when she first neared viewing distance of Alistair’s project, with a hint of some wild, repressed emotion about the eyes.

“Leliana?” he ventured. “You know Natia pretty well. What’s your opinion?”

Leliana’s mouth spasmed, and she cleared her throat before speaking. “Ah, well, Alistair, it’s obvious that much thought and care went into… all of this. And I’m sure she’ll recognize that, in time. I just wish you had approached me first.”

Despairing, Alistair at last looked to his least likely ally. Morrigan looked as smug as a cat who had cornered a very large beetle.

“I look forward to trampling your innards in the dirt after she guts you,” she said. Charming girl. Really lovely, that Morrigan.

Alistair put his face in his hands.

The thing was, it was Natia’s birthday. She had let it slip to Alistair a few days prior, right after they’d finished dealing with an ambush of darkspawn on the road.

“I didn’t think I was going to make it to my 20th!” she’d said, and then she had frozen up like she’d said something wrong. Despite much prodding, she wouldn’t release another word on the subject.

Natia had had a terrible childhood. There was pretty much no way she’d had a proper birthday celebration before. Not that Alistair was used to elaborate festivities, but there had always at least been something for him, a pastry or a little gift or a song. Natia was his friend, and she deserved to enjoy something like that.

He’d tried to figure out if birthdays were really bad for dwarves, like if they were considered bad luck or if you got put in public stocks as a rite of passage or something. He had waited until Oghren was blackout-level drunk to ask him about it, and had received an excruciatingly long and rambling story about the (Oghren claimed) single time he’d forgotten his wife’s birthday, so… no. Then he’d asked Bodahn about Sandal’s birthday, and the merchant’s response had been so enthusiastic and hopeful that Alistair had regretted the question.

Nobody else seemed to care when he told them about it. Well, okay, he didn’t really tell anyone else. Sten and Morrigan—come on. Wynne—she’d get all weird and sympathetic about it, like she thought Alistair was actually trying to do something for himself. Zevran—Zevran could talk circles around Alistair, liked to imply things, and was an assassin, which Natia seemed keen on forgetting but which Alistair could not.

Oghren… come on. The dog was great, but he was a dog. And Leliana—

He should have told Leliana of his intentions. She cared about Natia, and she had all kinds of experience with parties and things. But if he told Leliana, Alistair felt, she would either take over the preparations or discourage him. So he settled for telling her, “It’s Natia’s birthday the day after tomorrow,” and restricted his confidences to the dog, Bodahn, and Sandal.

Food by itself wasn’t enough. Gifts, by themselves, were not enough. Decorations: not enough. An oversized, hollow clay bust of the Paragon Egon Wintersbreath, purportedly filled with imperishable dwarven sweets and a selection of interesting stones, and intended to be split open for entertainment—

“I don’t know about this, Bodahn,” said Alistair. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, of course, of course! Shatter-busts are all the rage in Orzammar these days. They have a similar custom with papier-mâché in Orlais.”

Alistair sighed and opened his purse again. “All right.”

So, yes, Alistair had gone a little wacky. Maybe he needed something to distract himself from all of the death and bloodshed and death and imminent doom and more death. Maybe he wished that someone had gone all out for him when he was a child, and here he was forcing his frustrated dreams on a comrade-in-arms whose feelings on birthdays he still didn’t actually know.

But he also genuinely wanted Natia to have a nice birthday. Now he was out of coin, half the camp had a new depth of foolishness to mock him about, and there was a little clearing full of wasted party items he had to clean up before anyone else noticed.

“What are you doing, Alistair?” said Natia.

Alistair whirled around, losing his tug-of-war with the dog over a long stick. He had been hoping to use the stick to hook the shatter-bust out of the tree where it hung. “Natia! Get out of here! I mean, nothing.”

“What is this?” She frowned, taking in the fluttering fabric scraps tied to slender branches, the flat rock piled with wrapped gifts and the little pot of mushrooms next to it. Her face was dusted with some sort of glittering powder, probably a gift from Leliana. “Wait, did you do all of this for me?”

Alistair considered denying it. Then he sighed and hung his head. “Yes.”

To his horror, Natia crumpled into tears.

“I’m sorry,” he began, as her shoulders heaved and sobs issued into her cupped hands. “I didn’t want you to know. I’ll clean it up.”

“What are you talking about?” said Natia wetly, peering at him with red eyes. “This is the nicest thing that anyone’s ever—” She shoved her face into her hands again and cried more.

Alistair wasn’t sure whether to smile. “I didn’t think you would like it,” he said. “Everyone else said that it was, uh, too much.”

“That’s what I wanted,” she sniffled. “I didn’t even know, but that’s what I wanted. Thank you, Alistair.”

“Morrigan said you were going to gut me,” said Alistair’s mouth without his consent. Luckily, she laughed. “Uh. Do you want to open your gifts?”

She wasn’t impressed with the hat or the cheese knife, but the jar of armor polish drew a little “ooh!” She smoothed out and folded the squares of fabric that the gifts had been wrapped in.

“Leliana might know how to make these into handkerchiefs.” She paused. “This isn’t a romantic thing, is it?”

“No!” Alistair exclaimed. “I know you and Leliana are—I wouldn’t disrespect your—I mean, you’re great and all, but that’s just not—I don’t think of you like that. Well, there was a week or two, back when we first met, when—but no, I wouldn’t! No. Short answer is no.”

Natia was laughing at him now. He felt a great swell of friendly affection for her, and moved to hug her before he could think better of it.

“Er, sorry,” he said, trying to pull back, but she clamped her arms around his middle and squeezed with all her Warden’s might.

“Natia, you’re kind of hurting—oof!”

“Alistair,” said Natia into his abused ribcage, “you are the best male human friend a dwarf could ask for.”

As soon as she said it, Alistair felt like it was true. Then the dog came back, wanting them to throw the stick, and he felt like it was double true.

Once Natia noticed it, she was very excited about the shatter-bust. He got another hug for his trouble when she opened and tasted the mushrooms. Shortly after, Leliana came by, and it wasn’t even awkward to be around the two of them while they flirted and argued about dwarven cuisine. They even expressed a not-unwillingness to hear Alistair's birthday song at some point.

“Should we go get the others?” he asked, moving the mushrooms out of the dog’s reach. “I don't know if maybe you want a real party.”

“Eh,” said Natia. “They’ll come around eventually.” She eyed the shatter-bust.

“It’s nice just being by ourselves,” said Leliana, also eyeing the shatter-bust with a hand on the hilt of her dagger.

“There’s supposed to be a ruby in that shatter-bust,” he informed them.

“When’s your birthday, Alistair?” Natia asked slyly.

“Get the ruby, and maybe I’ll tell you.”

Leliana was the one who ended up finding the ruby, and Alistair had fun whispering into her ear while Natia waved her hands at them and protested. Maybe he had gone above and beyond the call of friendship, but he couldn't think of a reason to regret it.

#dadwc #dadwc fill #highwayphantoms

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